A Prison Post-Card from Friedrichsfeld bei Wesel. The group includes soldiers from Canada, Newfoundland, England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, France, Belgium, Italy, Russia, Serbia, and Roumania.
Since these experiences of battling bare-handed with the elements I can understand why primeval man fell into sun-worship, for on the caprice of the sun with its power to give or withhold, the happiness and well-being of the roofless traveller depends.
We stayed closely in the dark shadows of the heavy evergreens that day, although just beyond was the golden sunlight with its warmth and comfort, for we were afraid to show ourselves in the open. That night we came upon a potato garden, and dug out some with our fingers, filling our pockets and our handkerchiefs with them. We had a good night, and shoved the miles behind us. We had promised ourselves a fire just at dawn, and the thought of it, and the potatoes we should bake, was wonderfully cheering.
Just at the beginning of the dawn, in that gray, misty light, a fire can scarcely be seen, for the air is something the color of smoke, and there is enough light to hide the fire. At night the fire shows, and in the daylight, the smoke, but in the gray dawn it is not easy to see either. So on the morning of September 3d, we gathered dry sticks and made our first fire. There was a blue veil of haze on the horizon, and a ragged gray mist hung over the low places. The air was sweet with the autumn smell of fallen leaves and wood bark, and as we sat over our tiny fire, we almost forgot that we were in a world of enemies. The yellow beeches and the dark green spruces bent over us in friendliest fashion, and a small bird chased a hawk above the trees.
Still, we were not beguiled by the friendliness of our surroundings to take any chances, and, instead of waiting for ashes or coal to roast our potatoes, we put them right on the fire. What if they were burnt on the outside? We scraped off part of the charcoal and ate the rest. We knew about charcoal tablets being good for digestion, and we believed ours could stand a little assistance, for green apples and new milk are not a highly recommended combination.
We kept track of the number of potatoes we ate that morning. It was twenty-five! What we couldn't eat we put in our pockets, and held in our hands—for the warmth. That day, September 3d, was the brightest and warmest day we had.
Toward evening we crept out to the edge of the wood to see what sort of country we were in—and found there was a village quite near us. But as we had heard not a sound all day, and as there was not a flutter around it now,—not a soul stirring or a cow-bell tinkling,—we thought it must be a deserted hamlet. The old and now almost indistinct paths through the wood where we sat seemed to tell of a departed people.
We sat in one of these old paths, watching the shafts of sunlight which filtered through the woods as we waited for the dark. Then Ted began to fix the strips of cloth around his feet, and I lay down upon my back, across the path, looking up at the sky, which was shot over with mackerel-back clouds, giving promise of settled weather.
Suddenly, around a bend in the path, came a man and a dog. The man carried a gun across his shoulder, and evidently had been shooting birds. I swung myself off the path and motioned to him to go by—for he had stopped in surprise. Ted did the same. Our gestures were polite—but I think had something suggestive in them too—almost commanding.
He passed by, merely bidding us "good-evening," and remarking in German that Ted's feet were sore!