Those Who Fought for Us

by D. Allen Henry

  Chapter 10

  Second Battle of the Marne

  Allied Officers’ Prisoner of War Camp near Lille – Mid-July, 1918

  Robert and Alastair had now been imprisoned for nearly two months and, despite their apparent proximity to the front, they had heard nary a shot fired in that entire span of time. Robert scanned about him for the hundredth time, now all too aware that whatever the reason the Germans had chosen this particular location for the camp, the paucity of trees anywhere to be seen afforded the absolute worst opportunity for escape. Turning to Alastair, he inquired, “How many did your friend say had escaped from this camp?”

  “He waren’t soore, bit Ah’m thinkin’ nae moore than a dozen, Robert.”

  “That’s not much, considering there must be ten thousand of us milling about at this very moment,” Robert calculated.

  “Tell me boot it,” Alastair, “And with already bein’ at half rations, and soomer coomin’ oon to boot, thes dinnae look goode, Robert.”

  “Right,” Robert replied, “Do some checking around, and see what you can find out about the escapes that have been successful. I suggest we discuss it this evening and see what we might construct in the way of a plan.”

  That Evening

  Robert observed Alastair approaching and inquired, “Find out anything?”

  “Nae, Robert,” his friend responded, “Seems moost of the pish in here have given oop on the whool war, if’n ye ask me.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, Alastair,” Robert responded balefully.

  “Weel?” Alastair replied expectantly.

  “Well, what?” Robert responded vacuously.

  “Shouldn’t we two be doin’ the saem?” Alastair offered.

  “What? Give up?” Robert exclaimed in shock.

  “Weel, Ah’m jist thinkin’, Robert, Ah’d be wantin’ to lay eyes on that fair-haired beauty Elizabeth one more time afore Ah die and, assumin’ the offensive is aboot to begin, as we war toold, mayhap oor baest chance is tae wait it oot fur the time bein’, if’n ye get mah meanin’.”

  “Right. Perhaps I do share your desire to return home alive and well, but I’ve not yet bought into the notion that we should simply lie down within this camp and await victory,” Robert allowed.

  “Why evaer naught?” Alastair inquired blankly.

  “Perhaps we should just give it a bit of time, no more’n a few days, and I expect we shall have our answer,” Robert responded sagely.

  “Reit. Fine by me,” Alastair muttered and, rolling over in his bunk, he immediately began snoring loudly.

  Late July

  Awakening to the sound of artillery fire, Robert immediately sensed that this wasn’t the normal morning barrage between the lines. It was instead something entirely different. Consequently, he rolled over and, shoving Alastair awake, he whispered, “Alastair, wake up! Something is happening. Listen!”

  Alastair propped himself up, listened intently, and suggested, “Soonds serious. That be nae more’n ten miles off, Robert. Soonds as if the offensive has begun.”

  “Right,” Robert observed, “But whose offensive, the Allies or the Germans?”

  “Weel, nae point in ponderin’. We’ll find oot soon enough.”

  “Listen, Alastair, if we stay here in this hell hole of a prisoner camp too much longer, it won’t matter. They’re running out of food for the prisoners. I can feel my strength sapping away with each passing day. If this war goes on another three months, we shall quite likely be dead. We simply must get out of here.”

  “Reit,” Alastair agreed, “But hoo do ye suppose we’re tae do that?”

  “I should say the perfect time for an escape is during an offensive. It matters not which side is on the move, so long as one or the other does so.”

  “Och? Why fur?”

  “Because both armies climb out of the trenches, allowing gaps to open up in the lines. That is surely the best time to attempt to make our way back to our side.”

  “Och aye!” Alastair replied in sudden awareness but, his visage changing, he inquired, “What exactly aere ye thinkin’?”

  “I say we wander about for a bit, to see what we hear from the other prisoners. In the meantime, see if you can discover whether the artillery shells are firing towards us, or away from us. If they are firing towards us, then we could possibly be liberated within a matter of days. On the other hand, if they are firing away from us, that means the Germans are on the offensive. And while that is certainly not good for the Allied army, it is nonetheless an opportunity for us to escape.”

  “How are ye supposin’ to get oot of this barbed wire rabbit trap, Robert?”

  “Good question,” Robert responded, “Do you still have those wire cutters hidden in your bagpipe?”

  “Och aye, along with the wireless telegraph. Those German soldiers never thought tae check oot me pipes.”

  “Right, you work on the wireless, and make sure it works. If we manage to escape, we shall need it. I shall scout the enclosure and see if I am able to spot a weak point in the wire.”

  Two Days Later

  Robert poked Alastair in the side, whispering, “The artillery is definitely firing away from us, agreed?”

  “Och aye.”

  “That means the Germans are on the offensive. It also means that we cannot afford to wait for the allies to rescue us.” He paused momentarily and, contemplating the situation, he suggested, “Alright, Alastair, we’re getting out, tonight. Otherwise, we won’t last the war. Are you with me?”

  “Aye, Ah’m with ye, Robert.”

  “Excellent. I shall wake you in a few hours. We shall then be on our way.”

  Four hours later the pair slid under the makeshift building, crawled along the waste trench, and inched their way towards the barbed wire enclosure. “Thit thin’ is nasty lookin’,” Alastair whispered, “Are ye certain we can breach it?”

  “Yes, I’ve examined it for days. I know exactly where to cut. There’s twenty feet of barbed wire, but follow me exactly, and we shall be out in under a minute. Three neat cuts is all it will take. Now, follow me, and do exactly as I do. The guards should be taking their break in just a few moments.”

  They waited, the stench from within the trench causing Alastair to gag. But Robert then took the wire cutters and, hearing a snipping sound, Alastair followed Robert forward. They wiggled several feet, followed by a second snipping sound. Another few feet passed, followed by yet a third snipping sound, Alastair continuing to mimic Robert’s every move precisely. Now they crawled silently for what seemed an eternity.

  Then suddenly, Robert slid upwards, and rolled silently onto a patch of grass, the residual stench suddenly subsiding. Robert turned to Alastair, held his finger to his mouth, and continued to crawl forward. Finally, Robert rose to a crouch, and within minutes, the pair had crested a tiny ridge and disappeared from view of the guard towers.

  Halting immediately, Robert whispered, “Now, do not move. The guards’ break is over. They’re back on patrol. They shall be watching for any movement at all. Simply lie still until I signal.” At this, he lifted his head slightly and, scanning back in the direction they had crawled, he peered intently. They lay there for what seemed an eternity, but then Robert suddenly rose up and crawled swiftly, Alastair mimicking him precisely. They crept for yet another eternity, at which point Robert halted again, whispering, “Now, when I stand, run like hell!” Within seconds he arose and the pair took off at a dead gallop.

  They raced for what seemed an hour, eventually running completely out of energy. Robert halted and wriggled under a bush, stretched out in a prone position, and puffed between breaths, “Damn! Didn’t think we’d make it this far!”

  “Whit does that mean?”

  “Means we’re doing stoatin, Alastair. But it also means we need to develop the rest of the plan now.”

  “Ah say we push oon, while there’s still mirk.”

  “Agreed,”
Robert responded, and rising up shortly thereafter, he took off trotting as quickly as his legs would carry him.

  After two hours, he reckoned they’d made at least ten miles. He hoped they were still headed towards the southwest, and if so, they should be no more than a few miles from the front. They pushed on for another hour, but then it began to grow light, at which point the artillery fire commenced.

  “Weel, we must’ve done somethin’ reit,” Alastair offered. “That artillery is quite a bit closer than it was yesterday.”

  “Right, and that should confirm that we are a quite a bit closer to the front. If so, tis doubtful that the prison guards will come this far in pursuit. So here are my thoughts. We should find a safe place, dig in, and await further developments. For the moment, we appear to be quite safe. But we need to be extremely careful, Alastair. If we are apprehended, this time we could be shot for attempting to escape. With that in mind, let us sit tight for a while. Agreed?”

  “Reit.”

  That night they found a turtle, and Robert cut it into pieces, the pair consuming it raw.

  Two Days Later

  Robert gazed toward the southwest from the attic of the tiny farmhouse.

  “See anythin’?” Alastair queried.

  “Not yet,” Robert responded.

  “Ah’m hungry,” Alastair mumbled, “Ah’ve nae had anythin’ but that one raw egg since we carved oop that turtle. Seems like even the animals know tae depart a battlefield. And where did all the folk gang that bide roond these parts?”

  Still gazing toward the southwest, Robert said absently, “They’re off on vacation,” but he abruptly exclaimed, “Wait a minute! There’s something going on out there, Alastair. Hold on!” He continued peering for several minutes, then dropped down to his knees beside Alastair and muttered, “Well, I suppose it is ultimately good, but for us, Tis not so good.”

  “Whit?”

  “It appears the whole damn German army is coming this way.”

  “Whit!”

  “Right. We’d better be getting out of here quick, Alastair,” and so saying, he arose and hustled down the farmhouse stairs, adding, “Follow me, I’ve an idea.”

  “Weel, that be a stoatin thin’, Ah suppose.”

  Robert raced from the door of the farmhouse, trotted into the pasture, and from there he turned eastward.

  “Wait!” Alastair called out, “Isnae that goin’ back towards the way we came?”

  “Right,” Robert responded, continuing to trot. Alastair followed, huffing to keep pace.

  Two hours later, Robert began veering southwards, at which point Alastair begged for a halt, commanding, “Stop! Are ye tryin’ tae kill me?”

  “No, just save us both. That’s all,” Robert responded drily and, his chest heaving, he halted and placed his hands on his knees.

  “Hoo much longer is this tae gang oon, Robert?”

  “As long as it takes to get home,” Robert panted.

  “Reit. Ah shoold’ve knoon.”

  “Come on,” Robert exclaimed frantically, “We must keep moving!”

  They trotted for three more hours, this time continuing more or less southeastwards. Finally, the sun having gone down, Robert brought them to a stop, saying, “Alright, I think we’ve escaped from harm’s way for the moment.”

  “Where are we headin’ tae?”

  “We’re going back to where we were captured. That’s where we’re going.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know the area. That’s why!”

  “Och aye, Ah kin yer point. Hoo long will it take?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps a few days. Depends on where the front lines are.”

  “Weel, then, we’d better find some food. For if we dinnae we’ll nae last that loong.”

  “Right.”

  Three Days Later

  Robert sensed that the situation was now dire. Alastair was becoming lethargic, presumably from lack of food. Although water was plentiful, food was not, and they had expended massive amounts of energy walking and jogging what he now estimated was perhaps fifty miles over the past several days. The good news was that he could once again hear the artillery, this time to the south, and it was coming closer all the time. He now estimated that they were not more than ten miles from the front, and, even better, they were nearing Soissons. He had been on the front just a mile east of Soissons. Very soon now, he would see a landmark, something that was recognizable, and then he would know exactly where to cross the front lines.

  That night luck was with them yet again. Robert found an apple tree, and they gorged on the fruit. By midnight, both became sick from having eaten excessively, but by morning they were refreshed and ready to set off yet again in search of the landmark, wherever it might be.

  Around mid-morning he spotted it not three miles distant - the spire of the cathedral at Soissons. Pointing toward the spire, Robert said with obvious excitement, “There it is!”

  “Whit is it?”

  “Tis Soissons!”

  “Och aye, Ah’ve been there myself, two years back. Nice little town. Is that whit ye’ve been searchin’ fur these past few days?”

  “Yes, it will do,” Robert responded. “Now we can get some rest. We shall move at nightfall. For now, get the wireless working. We shall need to send a message this afternoon.”

  “Reit. Ah’ll be takin’ care of it,” Alastair responded.

  That afternoon they sent a message on the frequency they had been assigned nearly three months earlier. “Ah hoope they’re still monitorin’ it,” Alastair said.

  “If they’re not, we shall have a problem,” Robert responded diffidently.

  “Why?” Alastair queried.

  “We need to let them know we’re coming through the lines.”

  “We do?”

  “Yes.”

  “But where?”

  “That I do not know. The entire battlefield is moving as we speak. There’s a great offensive going on out there to our south and west, the likes of which we’ve not seen since 1914. I therefore have no idea where to go through, and we shan’t know until we hear back from them. If you will, simply await a signal from them.”

  “Reit.”

  They waited for perhaps a half hour, but Alastair suddenly announced, “Wait. Ah hear somethin’! Aye, there tis. Ah’m noo decipherin’ the code. Let’s see…they’ve received the message. They’re askin’ fur what we’ll be wantin’ tae do noo.”

  “Right. Tell them we are three miles northeast of Soissons. We need to know where the best place is for us to attempt to come through the lines.”

  “Reit,” Alastair responded, immediately tapping out the encoded message. A response came back moments later. Alastair listened a few moments, then announced, “They say the Germans are in full retreat. The lines are busted wide apart. There should be a break in the German lines jist west of Braine, a small town about seven miles east of Soissons. They’ll attempt tae be waitin’ fur us there over the next twenty-four hours.”

  “Perfect!” Robert responded. “Tell them – message received. See you then, God willing.”

  Alastair tapped out the response, then sat back and inquired, “Are we done? Shoods Ah tak’ it apart?”

  “Yes. As soon as you have quite finished, we should be going. We have a long hike ahead of us, and we may have to skirt round the German lines to the east of here.”

  Moments later the pair set off, walking eastward, the sound of the battlefield growing closer by the minute. They were now no more than two miles from the retreating German army.

  “We’d better slow down,” Robert announced shortly thereafter, “We might be spotted by the enemy at any time. I expect we’d do better to hide until dark, Alastair.”

  “Ah thooght ye’d never speak up,” Alastair responded, “Things are feelin’ a might nasty, if’n ye ask me.”

  “Right. I suggest we climb within that clump over
there and await darkness. Then we shall see how far we can get before morning. They shall most likely call a halt toward nightfall.”

  Two hours later, they crept from the trees, the darkness now providing an effective cover for their trek eastward. By midnight, Robert estimated that they were no more than a mile from Braine. “Right, Alastair, this is it. This is what we escaped for. We’re either going to slip through the enemy lines in the next few hours, or we shall be in quite a lot of trouble.”