It was a beautifully fine morning, very fresh and pleasant after the rain, and though my feet hurt me I was much refreshed by the food and sleep. As I knew from experience, alas! it was not till later that I should feel the full bitterness of failure.
When we had gone about a mile we came on a sentry standing beside the path. The Arab called to him and he came up, a poor miserable underfed brute, and stood stiffly to attention. Apparently the soldier had failed to arrive in time to assist in my arrest. A few words passed, and then the Arab hit him half a dozen blows in the face with his hand. The man winced at each blow but remained at attention, and then fell in behind. To see an unresisting man hit in this way is a horrible and demoralizing sight, and I felt quite literally sick with rage. A little farther on a second sentry was treated in exactly similar fashion. A walk of a little over half an hour, through comparatively well-cultivated country, brought us to the Jewish colony, the village of Hedéra. There were many evidences that this colony had been a flourishing and pleasant little place in times of peace. The houses were of wood or stone, pretty and well built, and most of them stood in their own gardens and there were many signs that a more civilized race than the Turks or Arabs had been in occupation. In an airy bungalow I was introduced to Ahmed Hakki Bey, Turkish commandant of the place. He gave me a seat as well as coffee, brandy, and unlimited cigarettes. A Turk, who spoke French, acted as interpreter, and seemed particularly anxious to impress upon me that the Turks were not barbarians. First of all, I had to be identified. There was some difficulty about this, as the description of me which apparently had been circulated did not tally in the slightest degree with the original. However, they had little difficulty in accepting me as the "wanted" man, though the commandant said he felt a little aggrieved that I had no points of resemblance whatever to my official description. I was treated by him with great consideration and, after he had questioned me, more from curiosity than for official reasons, he asked me if I wanted anything. I answered that I wished to sleep and then to eat.
I was led by the interpreter to a very small room in which there was a bed and blankets. He was most anxious to impress me with the generous and civilized way in which I was being treated. "And yet," he said, "all Englishmen say that Turks are barbarians, don't they?" "Ah no," I answered, "only those who have not come into close contact with the Turks may have a false opinion of them." "Then you do not now think the Turks barbarians?" "Since I have been a prisoner in their hands I have completely changed my mind." As a matter of fact, in pre-war days I always imagined the Turks to be rather good fellows. I had already changed my mind, and I was soon to be quite converted. The Turkish official is as corrupt, cruel, unscrupulous, and ignorant as any class on earth. That some of them have a thin or even fairly thick coating of European civilization only makes them in my opinion the more odious. I came across a few—a very few—who seemed notable exceptions, but that may have been because I did not have time or opportunity to penetrate the outer coating of decency.
During this conversation I took off most of my clothes, which were still very wet, and got into bed and soon fell asleep. When I awoke the room was crammed with people, who had come to look at me. I counted sixteen at one time in that tiny room. Women came as well as men, and I was subjected to a hail of questions, either through the interpreter or by those who could speak German or French. One of the Jews who had been my host a few hours before came in and, seizing an opportunity, whispered to me in German, "We did not take it; he did," indicating the Turkish officer who had captured me. I knew he was referring to my watch, and determined to complain to the commandant. The whole position was most undignified, but I did not see how I could help it. After all, I was being treated with a crude and barbarous generosity which was rather astonishing.
About midday I was given food, and then brought once more before the commandant. He was standing outside his bungalow surrounded by a number of Turks and half the population of the village, and made a speech to me, which appeared to be most pleasant, and I gathered that he was complimenting both himself and me on the signal proof that had been afforded me that the Turks were not barbarians. Both he and his interpreter had "barbarian" on the brain. When he had finished I took the opportunity of stating that someone had stolen my watch, and added, very unwisely as I soon discovered, that I rather suspected his officer. This was something of an anti-climax. However, he soon recovered himself, and gave me a hasty promise that he would investigate the matter. I abandoned all hope of seeing my watch again.
The journey from Hedéra to Tulkeram was made on horseback. To my disgust I found that the same Turk who had arrested me, and whom I had just accused publicly of stealing my watch, was to be my escort. The officer and I were mounted, but we were accompanied by two Turkish soldiers on foot, and I was astonished at the way these men kept up with us. In spite of rifles and ammunition and heavy clothes, and in spite of the heat, these men kept up a speed of quite six or seven miles an hour for the first six miles of the journey. After that the Turk deliberately left them behind; keeping just behind me he urged my horse into a canter, which we kept up till we were well out of sight. By this time I had made absolutely certain that the brute intended to murder me, and my anxiety was not lessened when he drew a large revolver and had pot shots at various objects by the wayside. Of course he would have a simple and satisfactory excuse for shooting me, by saying that I had attempted to escape. About half a mile ahead, in the otherwise flat plain, were two very low ridges which hid the path we were following from almost all sides, and I felt that it would be here that the deed would be done, and I began to think out a plan for attacking him first and then escaping in earnest. At the best, however, the situation seemed to me pretty serious. Of course I may have misjudged him, but I still believe he intended to murder me. Just as we were crossing the first low ridge a small caravan came round the corner. I breathed a prayer of thanksgiving, and my Turk put away his revolver and drew his horse up alongside of mine. For the rest of the way we were, to my great relief, and as luck would have it, never out of sight of human beings for more than a few minutes at a time. However, as I said before, I may have misjudged the fellow.
At a village a few miles north of Tulkeram we halted to water our horses, and while we were sitting there eating some food we had brought with us a German officer and his orderly rode by. The German caught sight of me, and coming across asked me in German if I was the English flying captain who had attempted to escape. When I answered in the affirmative he told me that I should not be long a prisoner as the war would be over in three months. "Why do you say that?" I asked. "Because," said he, "our armies have been completely victorious in France." At my request he gave me some details of the places that had been captured, and added that to all intents and purposes the war was over, and asked me what I thought of it. I said that I did not put any reliance on German communiqués, but that if it was true it looked as if the war would last another four years. He left me feeling rather miserable at the way things might be going in France. I hated that German, so damned condescending and superior. No man with any instincts of a gentleman would have gloried over an unfortunate prisoner as he had done.
About the rest of the journey to Tulkeram there is nothing to add. I was received there by the very worst and most unpleasant type of superficially civilized Turk, and by a gruff and, I should think, efficient German intelligence officer. After some questioning, I was put into the charge of a Turkish officer of the intolerably stupid type, with whom I very soon lost my temper completely. He deposited me in a cell in what I imagine was the civil prison. A sentry was left in the cell with me, whose presence and dirty habits annoyed me beyond words.
By one of those amazing incongruities, possible where the Turk rules and nowhere else, I found in a corner of the cell three very fine new eiderdowns, and with these made myself a comfortable bed and went to sleep. I was awakened some hours later by three English Tommies being brought into the cell. One of them was badly wounded in the arm just above the elbow. The wound obviously needed dressing, so after five exasperating minutes I managed to convey to the sentry that I insisted on seeing an officer immediately. When the same fool of an officer turned up, his dense, imperturbable stupidity nearly drove me mad. At length I turned my back on him and lay down once more in my corner. When a man has been starving he cannot satisfy his hunger at one meal, and I was now desperately hungry. The strain through which I had lately passed was as much nervous as physical, and it had left me so irritable that I sometimes think that I could not have been quite sane during that intolerable never-to-be-forgotten three weeks' train journey to Constantinople. I lost my temper daily, and several times a day. But then the Turks are an irritating nation to a prisoner with a spark of pride left in him. Even now it makes me hot and angry when I think of the Turk, and the hatred of Turkish officialdom is branded on my soul.