At Aman we learnt that we were to be sent to the German aerodrome at El Afule. The journey lasted, as far as I remember, four or five days, as the route is a most circuitous one and brought us across the Jordan to within about 40 miles from our lines and the same distance from the coast. As soon as we learnt where we were going we made up our minds that it must be from Afule we would make our attempt to escape. We left Aman in a comparatively clean cattle truck, but the conditions gradually became worse, and we finished the journey in a truck filled to the roof, all but 2 feet, with vermin-infested maize. We were consequently covered with lice. The food consisted of a very small portion of poor bread, olives, and semi-raw meat which the Turkish N.C.O. who was in charge of us tore in pieces for us with his dirty hands. Owing to the food and to lack of exercise we suffered severely from indigestion and diarrhœa, so that when we arrived at El Afule we were a pretty miserable trio.
In the red crescent tent, where we were deposited with a sentry to guard us, there were 6 inches of liquid mud on the floor, for there had been heavy rain lately, and it started to rain again once more. So we sat on the beds to keep out of the mud; and in that dripping tent, for it leaked in innumerable places, cursed the Turks and their damnable inefficiency. We had been sitting there half an hour or so, very miserable, when several German flying officers entered the tent. After rather formal salutations we told them what we thought of their allies the Turks, and of our treatment by them. One of the Germans then told me that they were going to try and rescue us from the Turks and take us up to their mess for a feed and a bath, and we felt much cheered at the thought. Through an interpreter they tackled the Turkish sentry; but, as he had had his orders that we were not to move, arguing with him was just waste of time. The next move amused us a great deal. One of the Germans wrote a note and, without the sentry noticing, gave it to his orderly, who departed. Ten minutes later the orderly reappeared and, saluting violently, handed the note to our would-be rescuers. The note purported to come from the German Headquarters, I think, and was an order for us to be handed over to the Germans. This was explained at great length to the sentry, but made no impression on him whatever. Quite rightly he refused to let us go. However, the Germans motioned us to come too, and we all moved out of the tent in a body. The sentry was in two minds as to whether to shoot or not, but he could not hit us without shooting a German, so he just followed after. From the station we walked about 2 miles up to a farmhouse, and were introduced into the mess, the faithful sentry taking up his watch outside the door, disregarding the jeers of the German orderlies and hints that his presence was undesirable. I still feel a great admiration for that sentry. His blind adherence to the letter of his orders under most testing circumstances is typical of the best breed of Turkish soldier. In the mess, the Germans, who were mostly quite young and seemed a very nice lot of fellows, were extremely hospitable and kind. We begged for a bath, but they said a bath would be no use to us. We were "verloust," and would be introduced to a de-lousing machine the next day. The commander of the squadron was Hauptmann Franz Walz, who for a long time had been a fighting pilot on the West front and had been O.C. Boelche's circus after the latter's death. He had a great admiration for the R.F.C., but thought that we had lost a great many machines from recklessness, and owing to mad expeditions on bad machines. In answer to a question as to which was the most dangerous front on which to fight, he said that the English front was vastly more dangerous than any other. The English and French were alone worth consideration as enemies in the air. The French fought well, with many tricks, but it was seldom that a Frenchman would fight if outnumbered or at a disadvantage, or over German lines. For an Englishman to refuse a fight, however, was almost unknown. If a German wished for a fight he had only to approach the British lines, when he would be attacked by any and every British pilot who happened to catch sight of him.
At dinner that night Walz asked us whether we would mind giving our parole not to escape for so long as we were actually guests of his mess, as, if we would do so, it would be much more comfortable both for them and for us. We agreed to this, and consequently were not guarded in any way whatever. As we were having dinner an orderly told Walz that the Turkish officer who had brought us from Aman, and from whom we had been stolen, was waiting outside for us. Walz, to our great amusement, told the orderly to give the Turk a glass of wine and a seat in the corner. After dinner Walz spoke to him and refused to give us up; so the Turk retired, taking the faithful sentry with him. As we had given our parole, I asked the Germans as a matter of courtesy not to try and "pump" us on military subjects, and on the whole they were very decent about this. They left me alone, but put a certain number of leading questions to Lee and Austin. These two, however, either referred the question to me for interpretation, or drew without stint on exceptionally fertile imaginations. They found there were several of the Germans with whom Lee or Austin had had encounters in the air during the preceding twelve months, and this led to some most interesting and friendly discussion of these fights.
The next day was spent in bathing and having our clothes completely disinfected. Lee and Austin were suffering from stomach trouble and were rather weak, and it was many days before they recovered. Two days of good food and rest with the Germans put me quite right again, and when on the afternoon of the third day we left the German mess and became once more wretched prisoners in the hands of the Turks, I felt quite fit for anything and made up my mind to escape on the first opportunity.
Whilst in the German mess we had written notes which the Germans promised to drop over the lines for us. In them we merely stated that we were safe and well, and asked that small kits might be dropped over to us, and signed them Lee, Austin, and Everard. Some months later, while prisoners at Afion-Kara-Hissar, we all three received bundles of clothes and necessaries, which were dropped from British planes and they forwarded to us. How valuable those clothes were to us when they came, only those who have been prisoners in Turkish hands can understand.
The night after leaving the German mess we were imprisoned in one room of a wooden hut, in which were three beds, a table, and a couple of rickety chairs. The window was barred, and outside the door three Turkish sentries squatted over a small fire and smoked cigarettes. Our hut was one of several which stood in a large compound bordered with prickly pears. There were several tents dotted about, and here and there little groups of men sitting or sleeping round fires. Around us was that untidiness and irregularity which is characteristic of a Turkish encampment. Austin, Lee, and I had already discussed the direction in which to escape, and we decided that it would be best to make for the coast in a southwest direction. Once on the coast we believed there would be little difficulty in making our way either through the lines or round them by means of wading or swimming. If we went by the more direct route south it would be necessary to cross several very precipitous ranges of hills, and the going would be very bad. Towards the coast there was only one range to cross, if we hit the right route, and after that it would be more or less flat walking—a great consideration for tired men.