CHAPTER XXVIII THE MISSING AERODROME
About 200 yards from the camp stood two tall, very old trees. Inside one of these, which was decayed and hollow, we hid our uniforms (which were now in tatters), so that the English, when they discovered our absence, should be under the impression that we had no civilian clothes and were still in uniform. We made first for the neighbouring wood in order to reach the road which leads from Donington to Trent. We had to make our way through thick undergrowth. It was so dark that we could scarcely see our hands in front of us. Thus it happened that when we were getting out of the bushes a little later we trod on some big animal which rose snorting with rage. It was a cow which we disturbed in its sleep, and which would have angrily thrust its horns into our bodies if we had not promptly jumped back. Our way then led over hilly pasture-land and over half a dozen wooden fences to the main road.
Arrived there, we debated whether we should follow the road or go through the fields. We did not need to deliberate long. A hundred yards from us, where the road went over a small hill, we heard voices. Soldiers of the camp guard, no doubt, who were returning from furlough. No one else would be likely to be there at that time. We at once jumped over a thorn hedge into a large cornfield. In our endeavour to get away from these people as quickly as possible, for their dog had suddenly begun to bark, we rushed blindly forward, each on his own. I stopped behind a bush to listen. The dog was still barking away, but the voices were no longer audible. I looked all round but could see no trace of my companion. I called his name a couple of times. There was no answer. Then I whistled quietly. Again no answer. Suddenly there was a rustling noise near me. I held my breath, not knowing whether it was a friend or an enemy. From time to time the rustling noise went on. Then suddenly I saw a tall figure in front of me. I clenched my fist ready to strike, and then I suddenly heard myself called by name. Thank goodness—it was W. We waited for a while, and as all was again quiet, we turned our faces south. At the double we went downhill, over cornfields, clover-fields, and stubble. Our heavy clothing impeded us a good deal. We were getting horribly thirsty, but could not afford ourselves a drink, for we had only two small medicine bottles full of whisky, which we intended to use only in case of dire necessity, and did not know when we should be able to replenish them.
We had done about a quarter of an hour's run at this pace when the ground suddenly became soft. We must therefore be near the river. We plodded slowly forward. Suddenly W. gave a subdued cry. He was almost up to his hips in a morass. Next moment I was in the same plight.
By great exertion we succeeded in working backwards out of the morass, which had seemed to be drawing our legs down with irresistible force. Two steps more and we should probably never have got out of it. Even when we were clear of it the thought made us shudder.
We felt our way to the right and left. Nothing but reeds and bog. As progress was impossible in this direction we turned sharp to the right. According to our reckoning we ought in this way to find one of the bends of the river. Our only box of matches had got wet in the bog, so that we could make no use of our map. We could only hope our direction was correct. We had changed our course so often that we hardly knew in which direction we were going. We had wandered on for about half an hour when we struck a railway line. A hundred yards ahead of us the line forked. We were in a hole again. Where did these rails lead to? We knew from memory that no railway junction of any sort was shown by our map in this district. According to our calculations the line on the left ought to cross the Trent. So off we started again. We climbed the high hedges which flanked the railway on both sides, and followed the line on the far side.
In the east it was beginning to dawn. We had reckoned on being at our aerodrome by this time, and we had not yet reached the Trent. On the left something bright shimmered through the trees—water! We breathed a sigh of relief. At this point the Trent was hardly thirty yards wide. We were on the other side in no time. And now our spirits rose. The country round here seemed to be quite uninhabited. When it was almost daybreak we came to a fork in the road. At the corner stood a small battered sign-post. Now we could see where we had got to. We were nearly twelve miles out of our way! 'Rotten luck,' we grumbled, and then we hastened our pace to try to make up the lost ground. But the spirit was more willing than the body. Our legs could hardly carry us, which was not to be wondered at after what we had gone through. Our progress became more painful, and visibly slower. Once we allowed ourselves just one tiny drop of whisky and a piece of home-made chocolate in order to revive our failing strength. This brought us another disappointment. In order to make the chocolate particularly nourishing, W. had put into it all the sugar he could get. The consequence was that after eating our 'home-manufacture' we got an all-consuming thirst, which we had no means of satisfying.
We were now getting into a more populous neighbourhood, and we had to be careful in order to escape observation. We had agreed that if we were spoken to my companion would pretend to be deaf and dumb, so that his speech should not betray him. Now and again we met a couple of labourers. They looked at us with some astonishment, mumbled 'Good-morning,' and plodded on. Once we were spoken to by a man of a somewhat better class who wanted to know if we had seen a horse and cart in the direction of so-and-so. I answered in the negative, briefly but politely. Then we went on again; but we both had a feeling that the man was looking round at us. This made us uncomfortable. Ahead of us was a large village. We must avoid it at all costs! That was all very well, but on the right of the road the fields were under water and the fields on the left were in the same condition. So there was nothing for it but to keep straight on.
With our parcels, wrapped up in bright curtain material, under our arms, we marched through the village as if we were going to work. Fortunately, we met very few people, and in five minutes we had passed the last house in the village and were again in open country. In order to reach the railway-line we were making for we now had to bear to the right. We found the spot all right where the railway coming from the north crosses the Trent and bends southwards towards Nottingham. We could not be far from our objective now. The thought of this gave us new strength. We marched along for another two hours carefully scanning the country to the right and left—and found nothing, not the smallest sign which could lead us to believe that there was a flying-ground in the neighbourhood.
Where on earth could the flying-ground be? We concealed ourselves in some bushes and studied the map. We were quite right—we had made no mistake about our position. The aerodrome ought to be somewhere within a radius of two miles of the spot where we were. Once more we took up the search, scouting back to the left and right, then forwards again. We examined the country in this way for four miles round. Not a sign of a flying-ground—not even an aeroplane to be seen.
Just a moment though! Yes. W. pricked up his ears. 'Here's one coming,' he said casually, as if it had no interest for us. We could hear the drone of an engine from the north. Shortly afterwards we saw a tiny speck in the sky which rapidly grew bigger and bigger. A biplane! 'Ours!' I could hardly conceal my joy. In a few moments he was over us, and we should soon know where he was going to land. It was scarcely 1200 feet up as he passed us. Eagerly we watched his direction. But the fellow made no preparation to land; he flew on and on, straight ahead in his original direction. In a few minutes he was only a dot in the sky again. We looked at each other questioningly, but we got no answer. We discussed the pros and cons, and finally decided to go forward for a while. Perhaps we should find some clue on the way. If not, we decided we should rest for a while in a wood or cornfield and wait to see if other aeroplanes came along which might give us a clue to their objective.
The sun rose higher and higher and beat down mercilessly on our tired heads. Our thirst was becoming unbearable. If we could only find water! In the distance we could see a factory. It looked as if it were by the waterside, and we turned our steps towards it. High bushes hid us from the eyes of the operatives, and we were able to approach the factory unseen. We had not been mistaken—we had come to a river. It was none other than the Trent, which we had crossed during the night. But what a filthy, smelly stream it was! The surface shimmered with all the colours of the rainbow. Then we suddenly remembered that below Donington there was one succession of factories of all sorts, dye-works, and so forth, along the river. Angrily we turned about and looked round for a hiding-place—which we soon found.
We lay down in the shadow of some high, thick bushes and tried to alleviate our burning thirst by sucking the moisture from stalks of grass. Then we stretched ourselves out in order to get a little rest, for we were dog-tired. About two o'clock W. woke me up. A dog was barking close by. Were we being followed already? Our absence must have been discovered at the camp by this time. I carefully peeped over the bushes and looked round. A small boy was coming along the road from the mill playing with a dog. This explained the barking. I went round the bushes on to the road and then went slowly down to meet the boy in the hope of getting some information. I dropped a sixpence in the road and then pretended to be looking for something. The boy fell into the trap, helped me look for the coin, and found it, whereupon I made him a present of it. We got into conversation, and I then made use of the same dodge which had served me in the camp. I mentioned the pilot who had crashed somewhere in the neighbourhood, but the boy, of course, knew nothing about him. In the course of the conversation I learned from him that there must be a flying-ground somewhere close by. Unfortunately, the boy could give me no details, as he had never seen the place. But he was able to give me an exact description of the railway lines in the vicinity. He told me the times of departure of a few trains which went from the village to Nottingham, and I then gave him a cigarette and pretended I was going away. As soon as he was out of sight I went to W. and related what I had learned.
On the strength of this, we decided to continue our search as long as this was possible without being seen; for we were now coming into inhabited areas. We would rest at some particularly favourable spot, and then continue our march during the night. It would be safer to avoid the high roads as much as possible and keep on one side of them. This was not so easy as it sounds, for in this district there was hardly a single field, no matter how small it was, that was not surrounded by a high fence or hedge. In the majority of cases this was supplemented with a strand or two of barbed wire. Many times during the next few days we had to retrace our steps because we had struck one of the numerous unbridged canals which intersect this district. This water also was undrinkable. I longed to enter one of the farm-houses and ask for a drink of water, but it might have caused suspicion. But we were at last so tortured by thirst that we threw ourselves full length on the grass and greedily drank the dirty water from a pool which, as all the signs too plainly showed, served as a watering-place for cattle. In order to fortify ourselves further we attacked our only tin of sausage ('bribery price, 30s.'), which was beginning to get bad in the excessive heat. We had long given up all hope of finding fruit or vegetables in the fields. In this horrible country there appeared to be nothing but grass, filthy canals hedges, and barbed wire, which was gradually tearing our clothes to pieces. Luckily we had sewing materials with us, which had already helped to repair the damage caused by the wire entanglement round the tennis-court.
Three whole days we wandered round this district, now to the right, now to the left of the railway-line, hunting for the flying-ground. The nearest other aerodrome, of which we had exact details, lay too far away to be reached on foot without provisions for the journey. We had decided to travel by train only in the last extremity, for it meant jumping on a passing goods train and travelling as stowaways. If our escape had been discovered—and we were bound to assume that it had—the first precaution taken would be to have the railway stations watched. During the daytime, if we were not tramping, we hid in small thickets or in little hay-cocks which we made from scraps of hay left behind in the fields. In these hay-cocks we slept also. We employed our nights in scouring the country. But for all our search we found nothing—the little flying-ground remained a mystery.
We were beginning to get tired of this business. We had twice searched the country on both sides of the railway, and it was impossible that we should have missed the aerodrome if it existed. In consequence of the continued strain of the journey and the lack of water and food—we had now only a couple of slices of dry bread left—our strength was visibly failing. To make matters worse, the effect of sleeping on the wet ground, following our long vigil in the tennis-court drain, was that my old rheumatic pains returned, my knees and right shoulder being sometimes so sore that I could hardly move.
It was quite plain we could not go on like this, and we decided that next day we should go to Nottingham, buy some food there, and then go on by rail to London, whence we could easily reach the big flying-ground at Hendon.
But before attempting this we had to find out what measures had been taken in consequence of our escape. In a newspaper of the day before, which we found on the road, there was no mention whatever of our flight. This was certainly not what we expected. Perhaps it was a new dodge of the English to lull us into security so that they should catch us the more easily? But I couldn't believe the English were so sly, and we were at a loss for an explanation.
In gorgeous weather we arrived again on the evening of the third day in the neighbourhood of the Trent. The roads gradually became less deserted, and the numerous little villas proved that we were approaching a large town—it was Nottingham. Night after night we had watched its searchlights in the sky. From time to time we met a couple of anglers staring straight ahead as they passed. A cyclist asked us if he was on the right road to X, and I hastily assured him he was, though I had not the slightest notion where the place was. As we turned a corner we suddenly met a policeman coming towards us. Careful was the word. With our pipes in our mouths and our hands thrust deep in our pockets, we passed by, spitting and cursing in the approved manner. The man measured us from head to foot with a glance, but fortunately did not address us. The noise of an aeroplane overhead distracted his attention. We, too, looked up and saw, only about 300 feet up, a large biplane following the course of the Trent which we were now skirting. We wondered if he was searching for us.
On the left of the road a small farm came in sight, and as luck would have it we met at the same moment a boy who had asked me that same morning for a cigarette. As I had given him two or three he now greeted us with a friendly smile from the far side of the road. I went up to him and asked him if he lived here; and as he answered in the affirmative, I asked him if his mother was at home and if she would sell us some food.
He ran across the road into the house and came back at once with the news that his mother was at home and asked us to come in. W. pretended to be deaf and dumb, so I alone accompanied the boy, telling him at the same time that as the weather was so fine we intended to picnic in the open air, a plan of which the youngster thoroughly approved. His mother received me with a friendly 'Good-afternoon, sir,' and invited me to sit down in the kitchen. Then a long conversation about the war and the 'damned Germans' ensued, while the good woman was busy making some excellent tea. Then she made up a parcel of cream-cheese and bread and butter wrapped in lettuce leaves, and gave me a big bottle of tea. I paid a shilling for the whole lot, expressed my thanks, and took leave of the good people, and then hurried off with my rich booty to W., who was waiting anxiously for me under a tree. Only at one other time have I eaten so greedily and so much at one time. That was the day a year later, when I was released from captivity and a proper meal was put before me for the first time!
Thus fortified, we continued our journey. But I, first of all, called the boy in order to get some information from him. I learned in the course of the conversation that there was a large aerodrome north of Nottingham, on the other side of the Trent. This was probably correct, for we had seen several machines flying in this direction. 'Oh,' I said in astonishment, when he spoke of the big biplane which we had recently seen and which he said was stationed at Nottingham, 'I thought it was from the small aerodrome by the side of the railway.'
'Oh, no, sir,' the boy answered, with a smile at my ignorance, 'the place you mean has been closed for a long time. It was closed about six weeks ago.'
I very nearly swore. But I restrained myself in time, and took leave of the boy, saying we still had a long tramp in front of us.
So all our wanderings had been useless. The last news about the aerodrome had come to the camp about eight weeks previously. It was undoubtedly correct then. It was our misfortune that the aerodrome had been closed down in the meantime. Who could have foreseen it? But there was no time for vain regrets. Besides, we had other information now; so, up, and on to Nottingham!