CHAPTER XXV UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPTS AT ESCAPE
During the long period of captivity which ensued all my faculties were concentrated on finding an opportunity to escape as quickly as possible from this unbearable camp.
The proceedings against Roger Casement, which began in April, showed clearly that the English would stick at nothing in their effort to find out those details in the preparations for the Irish revolution which, with all their extensive spy system, they had so far failed to discover. Sergeant Bailey, on whose fidelity Casement relied so thoroughly, had turned traitor in order to save his life.
In international law the English could make no charge against me or my crew. I knew that well. But I also knew just as well that international law would afford us no protection if it occurred to the English to do what they thought right. It would not have been the first time in this war that the English had ignored the most elemental provisions of international law; for it is well known that the English, when it is necessary, know only one law, English law. So long, therefore, as the proceedings against Casement lasted, I had to be prepared for any new surprise. But I did not wish to wait for this, for I had not the slightest wish to share Casement's probable fate and gratify the thirst for vengeance of the English mob by hanging on a gallows in the Tower.
Whenever I got a chance I surveyed the camp as unobtrusively as possible, climbed into the most distant lofts and cellars of the old ruined castle, and examined the great barbed-wire fence to find the weakest spot. In doing so I discovered that it would be, at the very least, extremely difficult to escape from this prison. Donington Hall was at that time the best-guarded and most secure prisoner-of-war camp in England. It deserved the name 'Castle' only when regarded from a distance, for the interior of Donington Hall was more like a tenement than the former residence of the Barons Hastings.
Since the escape of Lieut.-Commander Plüschow in July 1915, no prisoner of war had succeeded in getting away, although well organised attempts had not been wanting. The difficulties were increased by the fact that the possibility of further progress after leaving the camp had got much smaller during the last six months. The patrolling of the country and the watch kept on the main roads, railway stations, and docks, were now such that it was practically impossible to get out of the country. The exemption-certificates and the food-cards, without which one could get nothing to eat on the road, increased the difficulties of escape.
If I therefore attempted to discuss the question with my friends I always got the same answer: 'It's no use. You will get outside the barbed wire and no farther.' I could sympathise with the poor fellows' hopelessness. The many recent failures and the effect of the long captivity—most of them had been pining here for a year and a half—had impaired their will and brought them into a state of dull despondency.
I had not yet been infected with barbed-wire fever, and persevered in my efforts. The hope of getting free sooner or later from this prison, was the only thing which could save one from a mental breakdown.
Unfortunately, I was soon convinced that escape before the Casement trial was finished was out of the question. I had, indeed, found a few friends who were willing to make along with me their nth attempt at escape, and there were always a few stout fellows willing to help. But we had so many difficulties to contend with that week after week and month after month went by and we were no nearer the realisation of our hopes.
The greatest difficulty was this, that it was possible only with the greatest cunning and by bribing with large sums of English money to obtain the necessary tools. In contrast to all other English camps in which N.C.O.'s and men and civilians were interned—and in contrast to many officer camps in Germany also—tools of any sort were forbidden in English officer camps, even the tiniest hammer. Even pocket-knives which were larger than the index-finger were confiscated, and the owner was punished into the bargain. Ready money—again in contrast to other camps—was forbidden. In order to be able to pay for the necessaries of life we received metal tokens for which we gave receipts. This regulation and many others, made either by the War Office or the Camp Commandant, made the execution of our plans very difficult. At the same time these regulations were very flattering to us German officers, for they showed us continually how important we were. It was characteristic of the English attitude that much more extensive measures were taken to recapture one escaped German officer than were taken to recapture ten or twenty men. Every 'Hun officer' was looked upon as the devil himself. The best proof of this is to be found in the English press.
The second difficulty was to procure civilian clothes and false papers. This also was possible only by bribing English soldiers or labourers who happened to be working in the camp. I succeeded on one occasion in appropriating unnoticed a torn jacket and a small chisel belonging to a workman who was laying drain-pipes near my hut. I left in place of them a couple of silver coins, and then from the shelter of a shrub I saw the Englishman pick them up contentedly without bothering about the stolen articles—which I had safely buried in the meantime.
The excitement which my landing in Tralee Bay and the subsequent events in Ireland had caused throughout England, and, above all, the senseless clamour which the English press kept up for months afterwards, brought it about that I was regarded as a sort of 'Sherlock Holmes,' and was watched very closely in the camp. The sentries were told to keep a sharp eye on me, and as I was conspicuous on account of my height, all eyes were turned on me as soon as I appeared anywhere in the camp. Particularly during the first months of my captivity I often heard the sentries say, when I came near the barbed wire, 'Look out! Lieutenant Spindler is coming!' Sometimes they called me simply, 'the Casement fellow,' or 'the Casement captain.' Whenever English generals came down to inspect and were present at the parade, the Camp Commandant, before walking down the front, always pointed with his stick to the right flank where I stood, and told his superior officers, 'That tall naval officer is the fellow that brought Roger Casement to Ireland.' We gradually became so accustomed to this that the strange introduction seemed a necessary part of the parade. But apart from the fact that the Englishman's statement was false, this exhibition at last began to bore me. I therefore sent a request to the colonel to omit this introduction—which he did, when I pointed out that I did not wish to be regarded as a very fine specimen in a zoological garden.
With similar intermezzos, chief among which were my numerous written complaints, the days passed. From years of experience I knew that the utmost impudence was the only thing that impressed the English. The manner in which some of the English officers treated us prisoners enraged me so much that I gradually made a sort of hobby of plaguing the camp authorities with innumerable written complaints. For many of my friends also who did not know English I composed similar letters; and I nearly always had the satisfaction of noting their success, for the complaints were always justified.
The death sentence on Casement had already been carried out. Fortunately, the proceedings had revealed no material that could compromise me. Some of us had in the meantime succeeded in manufacturing (by means of an imprint in wax) a copy of the key to the so-called clock-tower. Under this, as we had been told by a clerk who had been sacked by the commandant, was a passage nearly a mile long. This led apparently to the village of Castle Donington and was probably intended by the Barons Hastings as a means of escape in case of siege.
I need hardly mention that we made the utmost efforts to find the entrance to this passage. Unfortunately, we could work only a very short time each day in the cellar of the clock-tower, for close to the stairs which led to it was the switchboard for the alarm siren and for the electric-light which was used both day and night. Nevertheless, with the help of a large pocket-knife we succeeded after about a fortnight's hard work in cutting a brick out of the wall undamaged. Once this beginning had been made the work of cutting out more bricks went quicker. Then we burrowed farther with the little chisel I had appropriated. The rubble thus produced was wrapped up in newspapers and carried away afterwards. A few officers, of course, always kept 'Cave' above, and whenever the signal agreed upon was given, the bricks were quickly replaced, and then no one could see from the stairs that anything had been going on here. Twice we were surprised. In our extremity all we could do was to flatten ourselves against the wall, and the sergeant who had been to the switchboard went away without noticing anything.
After several weeks' work we had cut a hole about a yard and a half deep in the wall. It looked as if we should never get through. To our joy we noticed however, that the wall, when tapped with the chisel, gave a much more hollow sound now. Did this mean that we were near the underground passage? With throbbing hearts we worked on. In three or four days we reckoned we ought to be through. Then the unexpected happened. Next morning, before we went down to the cellar, we noticed to our horror a couple of locksmiths, under the personal direction of the commandant, putting a lock and also a heavy padlock on the little tower door. Our plan was discovered. How, I have never been able to find out. All I know is that the English, in their zeal, made a stupid mistake, for if they had waited until the afternoon they would have caught us going down.
That disposed of the tunnel once and for all, for the only way of getting into the clock-tower was through the little tower door. For the next few weeks we dared do nothing, on account of the very strict watch which was kept. But as no one escaped during the next month the watchfulness of the guards gradually relaxed again; so we started on a new enterprise which promised success. Through the castle chapel, which was about twenty yards distant from the scene of our former labours there must surely be some way of getting to the tower. No sooner said than done. After the evening round, I and a friend got out of bed. At the head of our beds we put dark bundles, which in the bad light might be mistaken for our heads. Then we carefully felt our way along staircases and passages down to the chapel. Under a seat on one side of the altar we carefully loosened one of the broad floor-boards, and climbed down through the opening. At first we thought we could not find bottom, for I, the taller of the two, though hanging on to the plank only by my finger-tips, could feel nothing with my toes. We boldly struck a match, and then found that we were right over a shaft. So we tried our luck at another spot, and at last succeeded. The depth under the front portion of the chapel was so small that it was only by bending low that we could stand in it. With the help of matches we felt our way forward between the old stone coffins of the long-dead Barons Hastings. A heavy, mouldy smell, which constantly made us cough, pervaded the crypt. Occasionally it became so strong that we debated whether we should retreat, for the echo of our coughing resounded from all the walls and we feared that the night-patrol might discover us. It was so uncannily still that we could hear the ticking of our watches. Now and then something raced noiselessly over our feet in the dark. Rats were apparently plentiful here. Involuntarily I thought of a story which I had read as a child. Two rascals who in the dead of night had broken into the cellar of an old castle suddenly found themselves surrounded by coffins, from which the spirits of the departed rose just as the pair were about to steal the hoard of gold. They froze with fear, and were found next morning dead in the cellar. Although I don't believe in ghosts, I must confess that for a moment I felt uncomfortable. Inch by inch we advanced. The farther we went the more icy became the temperature. At last we arrived at a massive stone wall. We felt and examined the moist stones and the crumbling mortar in between. Nothing but basalt-blocks three feet square. Who could tell but that one of these stones covered the entrance to the tunnel? Surely we should be able to find the entrance.
We found nothing remarkable that night and made our way back to bed again, intending to renew our search next night. Night after night we repeated these excursions, and were once within a hair's breadth of being discovered. The 'Visiting Rounds' lit up the chapel inside just as we were about to cover up the opening with the plank. There we stood as stiff as mummies, with our faces turned to the entrance, carrying the whole weight of the heavy oak seat on our heads, for in our hurry we had not had time to replace it in its old position.
One of the soldiers actually turned the light on our faces for several seconds. Then the heavy door was slammed and next moment we heard the 'Tommies' continue their rounds. Once again luck had been on our side. Probably the men had just turned out of their bunks and were really half asleep as they stumbled through the camp. By the time they got to our beds we were under the clothes, and we snored loudly when the same lamp was held to our faces which had almost betrayed us a few minutes earlier.
After about a fortnight's work we were unwillingly forced to the conclusion that our hopes had been unfounded. There was not the slightest indication that this massive wall contained an entrance to a tunnel. Several determined attempts to loose one of the big stones had to be given up as hopeless for want of necessary tools.
In any case we should have had to desist, for a few days later one of our comrades, Naval-Lieutenant Prondczindsky, was caught while attempting to escape, and the guards again became very strict. It was a pity that Prondczindsky's plan did not succeed.[18] He tried to cross the barbed-wire entanglement, which was eight or nine yards deep, by means of a board which he had made.
He had spent nearly five months putting together a sort of box-like structure about seven yards long, eight inches wide, and four inches deep, made from the wood of cigar-boxes. Big pieces of timber were unobtainable in the camp, and he had calculated with mathematical precision the carrying capacity of his plank.
To increase our difficulties, the guard was now increased by twenty men in consequence of this attempt. As the winter was coming on our chances became still smaller, for now there was nothing in the fields to satisfy one's hunger in case of necessity. The daily camp rations were getting visibly smaller in consequence of the activity of the submarine war, so that it was difficult now to save up even a week's food. Even bribery helped us little, for it often happened that English soldiers, with whom we were for certain reasons on good terms, came to us, who had so little, and begged a piece of bread because their own rations had become so short.
I gave up one plan after another, but took pains all the time to give the impression that escape was the last thing I thought about. I was a regular attendant at the hospital, sometimes with justification, sometimes without. I wished to give the doctor the impression that in my impaired state of health it would be impossible for me to support the fatigues of an escape. My knowledge of English stood me in good stead in intercourse with the English officers and men who were now getting more and more trustful. If they chanced to ask me whether I ever thought of escaping I told them with a most innocent look that only a fool would think of making an attempt now that the conditions had become so difficult.
I had gradually worked out a code system by which I communicated with Germany in a round-about manner. This system of communicating secret news was so well conceived that the most alert English censor would have found nothing suspicious in the contents of my letters. Even if he did suspect something, all his arts and appliances, magnifying glasses, acid-baths, photographing, and ironing of the letters, would not help him a bit. The letters revealed nothing. To make assurance doubly sure, I had my letters in code signed by comrades who were not regarded by the English as suspicious; for I had reason to believe that all my letters were stopped. In this manner I succeeded in communicating with friends in Germany, asking them for things necessary for the escape, English money, tools (the parts of which were sent separately), and so forth. The letters, which arrived safely at their destination, were understood and the various commissions executed. For obvious reasons I do not intend to disclose how the articles were sent. Unfortunately, very few of them reached me, for when they began to arrive at the camp I had already escaped.
I had read in the newspaper that some of my brave crew had escaped from their camp and been recaptured. As I learned later, they had conceived the plan (a hopeless one) of setting me free and then trying to get out of the country. Shortly afterwards I was taken to London to appear before the Prize Court. I got such short notice that I had no time to provide myself with civilian clothes with the object of escaping during the long journey or when we were in London. Without money and in uniform I could not make the attempt. Immediately after my return to camp I addressed a long letter to the Prize Court, in which I requested that the previous decision should be revised, and that the money taken from me and my crew should be restored to us.
The Swiss Embassy was kind enough to forward this letter (and many others) to the proper quarter, although the American Embassy, which was still 'neutral' at that time, had refused to transmit it. In the next chapter I shall have something to say about the effect of these letters.
It would, of course, have been a mistake to concentrate on any one plan which did not absolutely guarantee success. I therefore looked round for other methods of escaping from the camp. With the help of a friend I contrived a jumping pole (made of broom-handles) with which I intended to jump over the barbed-wire fence. Unfortunately, the pole broke in two on its first 'trial voyage.' We were not discouraged, and we made another pole. And when this broke we made more. But all these attempts failed because it was impossible to smuggle a couple of good-sized poles into the camp. To the same fact, also, was due the failure of another scheme to reach a tree outside the fence from one inside by means of a long pole. This would have required a piece of wood or rope at least twelve yards long, for all the lower boughs, especially those near the fence, had been carefully cut off.
About the time when I was busy with these plans a small motor-car used to come nearly every day into camp. With a little address and the help of the chauffeur it would have been possible to hide in it, for it was easy to distract the attention of the sentry told off to guard it. The chauffeur was, as I soon discovered, very accessible. I covenanted with him to take me out of the camp for £500.
From my own resources and by borrowing from friends who had large sums of English money, I could raise about half of this amount. The remainder was to be paid after the war, and satisfactory guarantees were given. The payment was to be made by one of my friends as soon as the man proved that I was safely out of the camp. The day and the hour were agreed upon, and everything appeared to be in order. Very few knew about my plan, for I did not want to have it wrecked by incautious gossip.
On the appointed evening I stood in the yard near the garage, provided with all necessaries, and waited with bated breath for my deliverer. Half an hour—an hour—passed. I was beginning to wonder if I had been deceived, when suddenly I heard the well-known sound of the horn in the distance. A few moments later the headlights lit up the long passage that led to the yard. As the car passed the entrance doors I noticed two English officers sitting in it. Had the chauffeur led me into a trap?
I carefully crept along the wall into the darkest corner of the garage. 'Well, now, let's get to work,' I heard one of the officers say. Then I saw him look round the shed as if looking for something. My heart beat faster. Fortunately, the Englishman's remark had no reference to me, for the two of them walked away in the direction of the commandant's office. The chauffeur began to work on the car, and swore when he found he had run out of petrol, whereupon the sentry offered to get him some. This was contrary to his orders, for he was forbidden to leave the motor. I then showed myself and was about to get into my hiding place. But the chauffeur prevented me, declaring that he was risking ten years' imprisonment by this joke (as he called it), and that he must therefore have £500 in cash on the spot, and another £500 later.
This was a low trick. It was impossible for me to pay £500 at once, and I could not guarantee to pay the second instalment, for it was beyond my means. As discussion did not help matters and I could hear the footsteps of the sentry returning with the petrol, I had, with a heavy heart, to give up my plan.