Captivity and Escape

by Jean Martin

The day seemed long, and towards evening I was continually annoyed by mosquitoes, which took a malicious pleasure in alighting on my hands and face and biting them. Later on there was a heavy storm that lasted about two hours. The rain began to drench me. From that time I felt as if I had not a dry thread on me. It was Tuesday evening.

At nightfall I should have liked to go on, but I was troubled by the sound of people talking near me. Were they on my track? At last there was absolute silence. I came out from my hiding-place and continued my way to the west. In the meadows the long grass wetted me to my knees, inquisitive cows came to look at me as I passed by. All at once I heard the iron wire of a fence creak. I stopped uneasily in the middle of a field of pasture-land and saw a man getting slowly over the fence. I thought that perhaps a signal had been sent and that some one was waiting for me there. I did not feel much more easy in my mind when I heard the man jump on a bicycle and go off at a great speed. I wanted, nevertheless, to continue on my way, for I met nobody; still, as I heard noises in the distance, I thought it more prudent to hide in a potato field. I remained there some time, flat on the ground, feeling very anxious. Then, getting on to the high road, I walked along it without meeting a living soul.

Towards morning I left the road and entered pasture-land again, in the middle of which there was a small thicket which offered shelter until the evening; it was terribly wet there, and I often regretted having stopped in that place, near which some shepherd boys kept constantly passing.

The day seemed interminable. I suffered from time to time from cramp in my legs. Then for the first time I could hear the German soldiers who, sent out in pursuit of me, were firing blank cartridges into the undergrowth. Several times I heard them a little way off in different directions talking. I waited motionless, weighing the chances I had of remaining undiscovered.

It rained again, frequently and heavily. I had had nothing to drink, since I started, and I was beginning to feel thirsty. In the evening a few birds came and sang over my head, and their warbling helped to pass the long hours that still separated me from night.

On Wednesday evening, when it was quite dark, and when all sounds of voices were stilled, I came out from my retreat and crawled to the edge of the little wood.

There again I heard a wire fence creak. I went cautiously forward and discovered that the noise was made this time by a poor cow, who, frightened by my appearance, had started rushing madly off. I made my way once more over meadows, cornfields and beetroot fields, with pauses more or less prolonged at each disturbing noise. I succeeded in getting past the farms without making any noise, without even waking the watchdogs; but in the fields it was different; suddenly some pheasants, disturbed in their sleep, rose from under my feet, flying heavily away and uttering loud cries. Would they betray me?

I had the impression of walking towards my death in the darkness. Each rick of oats seemed to me to be hiding a soldier whose cold bayonet would nail me to the earth without a sound. The night was cold, and I kept shivering as I lay with my ear to the ground, anxiously listening till all sound of rustling had ceased. I walked on slowly, peering into the darkness as I went, for the few stars there were did not shed much light. Going at right angles to the Great Bear, which I left on my right hand, I kept on my way towards the west. I thus reached the edge of a stream. As it was not deep I took off my shoes and stockings and crossed it easily. There at last, for the first time for two days, I was able to quench my thirst. Then followed meadows upon meadows. A light mist covered the ground, which looked like silver. It was getting light. Where should I find a hiding-place in the flat fields without trees or bushes? Having got through a hedge, I found myself on a high road. I was going to cross it when I heard, quite close to me, about fifty metres away, sounding mournfully in the grey morning light, the melancholy notes of the German réveillé. These sounds, made by lips that were only half-awake, caused my knees to give way under me. I had thought never again to hear the German bugle. An indescribable terror took possession of me, and I felt that I was going to be caught. To avoid the barracks I bore to the right. A hundred metres farther on a stream barred my way; there was no possibility of hesitating, and so, at four o’clock in the morning, without taking time to remove any of my clothes, I plunged in. I was out of my depth almost immediately, and swam to the opposite bank, a distance of about forty metres.

Had I been noticed by the sentinels on duty along the banks or by some one in the neighbourhood who liked early rising? Out of breath through swimming and with my clothes weighed down with water, I tried to hurry along in quest of shelter. I should have liked to continue walking so as to warm my chilled body, but I soon had to stop. I was in open country. I heard the voices of peasants going to their work, and I could not risk meeting even a civilian, for my soaked clothing would have betrayed me. Carefully moving aside the ears of corn, I got right into a cornfield and lay down in the middle of it. It was sunrise on Thursday.

I was wet to the skin, and I shivered in the cool morning air. My first care was to empty my pockets; blades of grass and leaves were sticking to the packets of chocolate; water had penetrated to the meat lozenges; instead of sugar I found nothing but sweet water. My stock of sugar was gone.