I went straight to him on my return from the Commandant, and led him aside to a quiet spot where we could talk. I asked him what risks he was willing to take to get away from Yozgad. He objected, at once, that he was on parole, and that the feeling of the camp had to be considered.
“I know,” I said, “but supposing I can get you off that parole, and fix the camp safely, how far would you go?”
Hill did not answer for a considerable time.
“You’re not joking?” he said, at last.
“No,” I replied.
“Then I’ll tell you.” Hill spoke slowly and with emphasis. “To get away from this damned country I’ll go the pool!—all out. I won’t be retaken alive.”
The man was terribly in earnest. I told him, briefly, how I had been struggling for months to get a hold over the Turks, and how the opportunity had come that very afternoon. I outlined my plans as far as they had been framed. Hill listened eagerly, and in silence.
“It amounts to this,” I concluded; “before we openly commit ourselves in any way towards escape, we must obtain proof of the Commandant’s complicity and place that proof in the hands of somebody in the camp. That will make the camp safe. I guarantee you nothing but a share in what will look like a practical joke against the Turk. It may go no further than that. And I warn you that if the Turk finds us out, it may be unpleasant. It must be one thing at a time. Once we have got the proof it will be time enough to decide on our final line of action. We will then have a choice of three things—escape, exchange, or compassionate release. Finally, if you join up with me in this, you will be handicapping yourself should we decide upon a straight run away. Apart from my game leg, you could find plenty of fellows in camp who could make rings round me across country.”
We discussed the matter in and out, and finally agreed—
(1) So far as we ourselves were concerned, to risk everything and go any length to get away.