Somebody passed close by me, and entered the back door. I dodged, and locked myself in the lavatory until he was in the house. When all was quiet I went into the open yard, gripped my parcel (the bottle of water and the store of dry bread tied up in a towel) between my teeth, and began climbing up the drain pipe.
It was a more difficult task than I expected. The wall was flat, and showed few cracks that could be used as footholes. I scraped the skin from face, arms, and legs as I struggled upward, a few feet at a time. At last I was high enough to touch the gutter and haul myself, with many a gasp, on to the roofs edge. While I was doing this the first disaster happened—the package fell from my mouth.
I kept perfectly still, expecting a loud noise; but the parcel fell with nothing worse than a dull thud, the bottle being saved from breaking by the bread around it.
Although nobody came into the yard I did not go down again, for every minute counted; and, moreover I was certain that I should not have the strength to climb that drain pipe a second time. I determined to make the attempt without bread and water and the towel, which was to have served as headdress.
I clambered along the side of the low roof, keeping in the shadow, until I reached the front of the building. All was clear for me; the guns were still firing, the street was deserted, and the sentry, who should have been below, had gone into the hospital for safety.
I caught hold of the right-hand corner of the gutter with both hands, lowered myself until my body was hanging down with arms fully extended, and dropped.
Then came the second disaster. Although the roof was low, and the length of my body deducted five and three-quarter feet from the total drop, yet the shock when I touched earth was considerable. I landed purposely on my left foot, since the left leg was uninjured, but I toppled over, and again hurt the bruised thigh, which throbbed with pain.
I lay in the shadow of the wall for a few seconds. Then, knowing that I could not remain undiscovered for long if I stayed there, I looked around to see if the streets were clear.
Not a soul was about, for the anti-aircraft guns were still barking, seemingly at nothing. I went out into the vague light of the quarter-moon and began walking in the direction of the coast.
A hundred yards to westward I was past the straggling line of buildings, and on the open road. Then came several groups of tents by the roadside. After I had left these behind I cut away to the left, across open country.