I had not yet been infected with barbed-wire fever, and persevered in my efforts. The hope of getting free sooner or later from this prison, was the only thing which could save one from a mental breakdown.
Unfortunately, I was soon convinced that escape before the Casement trial was finished was out of the question. I had, indeed, found a few friends who were willing to make along with me their nth attempt at escape, and there were always a few stout fellows willing to help. But we had so many difficulties to contend with that week after week and month after month went by and we were no nearer the realisation of our hopes.
The greatest difficulty was this, that it was possible only with the greatest cunning and by bribing with large sums of English money to obtain the necessary tools. In contrast to all other English camps in which N.C.O.'s and men and civilians were interned—and in contrast to many officer camps in Germany also—tools of any sort were forbidden in English officer camps, even the tiniest hammer. Even pocket-knives which were larger than the index-finger were confiscated, and the owner was punished into the bargain. Ready money—again in contrast to other camps—was forbidden. In order to be able to pay for the necessaries of life we received metal tokens for which we gave receipts. This regulation and many others, made either by the War Office or the Camp Commandant, made the execution of our plans very difficult. At the same time these regulations were very flattering to us German officers, for they showed us continually how important we were. It was characteristic of the English attitude that much more extensive measures were taken to recapture one escaped German officer than were taken to recapture ten or twenty men. Every 'Hun officer' was looked upon as the devil himself. The best proof of this is to be found in the English press.
The second difficulty was to procure civilian clothes and false papers. This also was possible only by bribing English soldiers or labourers who happened to be working in the camp. I succeeded on one occasion in appropriating unnoticed a torn jacket and a small chisel belonging to a workman who was laying drain-pipes near my hut. I left in place of them a couple of silver coins, and then from the shelter of a shrub I saw the Englishman pick them up contentedly without bothering about the stolen articles—which I had safely buried in the meantime.
The excitement which my landing in Tralee Bay and the subsequent events in Ireland had caused throughout England, and, above all, the senseless clamour which the English press kept up for months afterwards, brought it about that I was regarded as a sort of 'Sherlock Holmes,' and was watched very closely in the camp. The sentries were told to keep a sharp eye on me, and as I was conspicuous on account of my height, all eyes were turned on me as soon as I appeared anywhere in the camp. Particularly during the first months of my captivity I often heard the sentries say, when I came near the barbed wire, 'Look out! Lieutenant Spindler is coming!' Sometimes they called me simply, 'the Casement fellow,' or 'the Casement captain.' Whenever English generals came down to inspect and were present at the parade, the Camp Commandant, before walking down the front, always pointed with his stick to the right flank where I stood, and told his superior officers, 'That tall naval officer is the fellow that brought Roger Casement to Ireland.' We gradually became so accustomed to this that the strange introduction seemed a necessary part of the parade. But apart from the fact that the Englishman's statement was false, this exhibition at last began to bore me. I therefore sent a request to the colonel to omit this introduction—which he did, when I pointed out that I did not wish to be regarded as a very fine specimen in a zoological garden.
With similar intermezzos, chief among which were my numerous written complaints, the days passed. From years of experience I knew that the utmost impudence was the only thing that impressed the English. The manner in which some of the English officers treated us prisoners enraged me so much that I gradually made a sort of hobby of plaguing the camp authorities with innumerable written complaints. For many of my friends also who did not know English I composed similar letters; and I nearly always had the satisfaction of noting their success, for the complaints were always justified.
The death sentence on Casement had already been carried out. Fortunately, the proceedings had revealed no material that could compromise me. Some of us had in the meantime succeeded in manufacturing (by means of an imprint in wax) a copy of the key to the so-called clock-tower. Under this, as we had been told by a clerk who had been sacked by the commandant, was a passage nearly a mile long. This led apparently to the village of Castle Donington and was probably intended by the Barons Hastings as a means of escape in case of siege.
I need hardly mention that we made the utmost efforts to find the entrance to this passage. Unfortunately, we could work only a very short time each day in the cellar of the clock-tower, for close to the stairs which led to it was the switchboard for the alarm siren and for the electric-light which was used both day and night. Nevertheless, with the help of a large pocket-knife we succeeded after about a fortnight's hard work in cutting a brick out of the wall undamaged. Once this beginning had been made the work of cutting out more bricks went quicker. Then we burrowed farther with the little chisel I had appropriated. The rubble thus produced was wrapped up in newspapers and carried away afterwards. A few officers, of course, always kept 'Cave' above, and whenever the signal agreed upon was given, the bricks were quickly replaced, and then no one could see from the stairs that anything had been going on here. Twice we were surprised. In our extremity all we could do was to flatten ourselves against the wall, and the sergeant who had been to the switchboard went away without noticing anything.
After several weeks' work we had cut a hole about a yard and a half deep in the wall. It looked as if we should never get through. To our joy we noticed however, that the wall, when tapped with the chisel, gave a much more hollow sound now. Did this mean that we were near the underground passage? With throbbing hearts we worked on. In three or four days we reckoned we ought to be through. Then the unexpected happened. Next morning, before we went down to the cellar, we noticed to our horror a couple of locksmiths, under the personal direction of the commandant, putting a lock and also a heavy padlock on the little tower door. Our plan was discovered. How, I have never been able to find out. All I know is that the English, in their zeal, made a stupid mistake, for if they had waited until the afternoon they would have caught us going down.
That disposed of the tunnel once and for all, for the only way of getting into the clock-tower was through the little tower door. For the next few weeks we dared do nothing, on account of the very strict watch which was kept. But as no one escaped during the next month the watchfulness of the guards gradually relaxed again; so we started on a new enterprise which promised success. Through the castle chapel, which was about twenty yards distant from the scene of our former labours there must surely be some way of getting to the tower. No sooner said than done. After the evening round, I and a friend got out of bed. At the head of our beds we put dark bundles, which in the bad light might be mistaken for our heads. Then we carefully felt our way along staircases and passages down to the chapel. Under a seat on one side of the altar we carefully loosened one of the broad floor-boards, and climbed down through the opening. At first we thought we could not find bottom, for I, the taller of the two, though hanging on to the plank only by my finger-tips, could feel nothing with my toes. We boldly struck a match, and then found that we were right over a shaft. So we tried our luck at another spot, and at last succeeded. The depth under the front portion of the chapel was so small that it was only by bending low that we could stand in it. With the help of matches we felt our way forward between the old stone coffins of the long-dead Barons Hastings. A heavy, mouldy smell, which constantly made us cough, pervaded the crypt. Occasionally it became so strong that we debated whether we should retreat, for the echo of our coughing resounded from all the walls and we feared that the night-patrol might discover us. It was so uncannily still that we could hear the ticking of our watches. Now and then something raced noiselessly over our feet in the dark. Rats were apparently plentiful here. Involuntarily I thought of a story which I had read as a child. Two rascals who in the dead of night had broken into the cellar of an old castle suddenly found themselves surrounded by coffins, from which the spirits of the departed rose just as the pair were about to steal the hoard of gold. They froze with fear, and were found next morning dead in the cellar. Although I don't believe in ghosts, I must confess that for a moment I felt uncomfortable. Inch by inch we advanced. The farther we went the more icy became the temperature. At last we arrived at a massive stone wall. We felt and examined the moist stones and the crumbling mortar in between. Nothing but basalt-blocks three feet square. Who could tell but that one of these stones covered the entrance to the tunnel? Surely we should be able to find the entrance.