The Road to En-dor

by E. H. Jones

  It was a lovely spring morning outside. The snow had gone. The countryside, fresh from the rains, was bathed in sunlight, and a fine fresh breeze was blowing. We heard Moïse and the doctors coming up our stairs, laughing and chatting together. Captain Suhbi Fahri, still talking, opened the door of our room – and stopped in the middle of a sentence. It takes a pretty vile atmosphere to astonish a Turk, but the specimen of ‘fug’ we had so laboriously prepared took his breath away. The two doctors stood at the door and talked in whispers to Moïse.

  Hill, with a British warm up to his ears and a balaclava on his tousled head, sat huddled motionless over the red-hot stove, warming his hands. On the other side of the stove I wrote furiously, dashing off sheet after sheet of manuscript and hurling them on to the floor.

  Their examination of us was a farce. If their minds were not already made up before they entered, the state of our room and our appearance completely satisfied them. Major Osman never left the door. Captain Suhbi Fahri tiptoed silently round the room, peering into our scientist-trapping slop-pails and cag-heaps, until he got behind my chair, when I whirled round on him in a frightened fury, and he retreated suddenly to the door again. Neither of them sought to investigate our reflexes – the test we feared most of all – but they contented themselves with a few questions which were put through Moïse in whispers, and translated to us by him.

  They began with me.

  MAJOR OSMAN: ‘What are you writing?’

  SELF (nervously): ‘It is not finished yet.’ The question was repeated several times; each time I answered in the same words, and immediately began writing again.

  MAJOR OSMAN: ‘What is it?’

  SELF: ‘A plan.’ (Back to my writing. More whispering between the doctors at the door.)

  MAJOR OSMAN: ‘What plan?’

  SELF: ‘A scheme.’

  MAJOR OSMAN: ‘What scheme?’

  SELF: ‘A scheme to divide up England at the end of the war. A scheme for the abolition of England! Go away! You are bothering me.’

  (More whispering at the door.)

  MAJOR OSMAN: ‘Why do you want to do that?’

  SELF: ‘Because the English hate us.’

  MAJOR OSMAN: ‘Your father is English. Does he hate you?’

  SELF: ‘Yes. He has not written to me for a long time. He puts poison in my parcels. He is in league with Major Baylay. It is all Major Baylay’s doing.’

  I grew more and more excited, and burst into a torrent of talk about my good friend Baylay’s ‘enmity’, waving my arms and raving furiously. The two doctors looked on aghast, and I noticed Captain Subhi Fahri changed his grip on his silver-headed cane to the thin end. It took them quite a time to quieten me down again. At last I gathered up my scattered manuscript and resumed my writing. Hill had never moved or paid the slightest attention to the pandemonium. They turned to him.

  MAJOR OSMAN: ‘Why are you keeping the room so hot? It is a warm day.’

  (Moïse had to call Hill by name and repeat the question several times before Hill appeared to realize that he was being addressed. Then he raised a starving, grey-green, woebegone face to his questioners.)

  ‘Cold,’ he said, and huddled an inch nearer the stove.

  ‘Why don’t you go out?’ asked Major Osman.

  ‘Baylay,’ said Hill, without lifting his head.

  ‘Why don’t you sweep the floor?’

  ‘Poison in dust.’

  ‘Why is there poison in the dust?’

  ‘Baylay,’ said the monotonous voice again.

  ‘Is there anything you want?’ Major Osman asked.

  Hill lifted his head once more.

  ‘Please tell the Commandant to lock the door and you go away,’ then he turned his back on his questioners.

  The two doctors, followed by Moïse, tiptoed down the stairs. We heard the outer gate clang, listened carefully to make sure they had gone, and then let loose the laughter we had bottled up so long. For both the Turkish doctors had clearly been scared out of their wits by us. Moïse came back later with our certificates of lunacy. They were imposing documents, written in a beautiful hand, and each decorated with two enormous seals. The following is a translation as it was written out by the Pimple at our request: –

  ‘HILL. This officer is in a very calm condition, thinking. His face is long, not very fat. Breath heavy. He has been seen very thinking. He gave very short answers. There is no (?life) in his answers. There is a nervousness in his present condition. He states that his life is in danger and he wants the door to be locked because a Major is going to kill him. By his answers and by the fact he is not taking any food, it seems that he is suffering from melancholia. We beg to report that it is necessary he be sent to Constantinople for treatment and observation and a final examination by a specialist.’

  ‘JONES. This officer appears to be a furious. Weak constitution. His hands were shaking and was busy writing when we went to see him. When asked what he was writing he answered that it was a plan for the abolition of England because the English were his enemies; even his father was on their part because he was not sending letters. His life is in danger. A Major wants to kill him and has put poison in his meat. That is why he is not eating. He requested nobody may be allowed to come and the door may be locked. According to the statement of the orderly and other officers this officer has been over-studying spiritualism. He says that the doctor was giving him poison instead of medicine. According to his answers and his present condition he seems to suffer from a derangement in his brains. We beg to report that it is necessary to send him to Constantinople for observation and treatment.’

  Both reports were signed and sealed by

  ‘Major Osman, Bacteriologist in charge of Infectious Diseases at Yozgad.’

  ‘Captain Suhbi Fahri, District Doctor in charge of Infectious Diseases at Yozgad.’

  ‘Your control,’ said Moïse to us, ‘was wonderful – marvellous. Your very expressions had altered. The doctors said your looks were ‘very bad, treacherous, haine’. You, Jones, have a fixed delusion – (idée fixée) – and Hill has melancholia, they say. They have ordered that a sentry be posted to prevent your committing suicide and that you and your room be thoroughly cleaned, by force if necessary. Do you remember the doctors’ visit?’

  Our memories, we said, were utterly blank, and we got the Pimple to relate what had occurred.

  ‘It was truly a glorious exhibition of the power of our Spook,’ the Pimple ended, ‘and the Commandant is greatly pleased. I trust you suffer no ill-effects?’

  We were only very tired, and very anxious that the doctors’ suggestions as to cleaning up should be carried out. Sentries were called in. Our bedding and possessions were moved to a clean room, and we were led out into the yard and made to bathe in the horse-trough. Then we slept the sleep of the successful conspirator till evening.

  Chapter XXII

  How the Spook Corresponded With the Turkish War Office and Got A Reply

  I woke at sunset to find Doc. O’Farrell bending over me. ‘Doctors been here?’ he asked in a hoarse whisper.

  I nodded.

  ‘And what’s the result?’

  ‘Did you see the sentry at the door?’ I asked.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re found out,’ Doc. moaned, ‘or I’ll never forgive myself.’

  ‘All right, Doc. Dear! The sentry’s there to prevent us committing suicide!’

  Doc. stared a moment, and then doubled up with laughter that had to be silent because of the Turk outside.

  ‘Like to see the medical reports?’ I asked, handing him the Pimple’s translation.

  He began to read. At the first sentence he burst into a loud guffaw, and thrust the reports hastily out of sight. Luckily the gamekeeper at the door paid no attention. The Doc. apologized for his indiscretion and managed to read the rest in silence.

  ‘Think we’ve a chance?’ Hill asked, as he finished.

  ‘Ye’re a pair of unmitigated blackguards,’ said the Doc., ‘a
n’ I’m sorry for the leech that’s up against you. There’s only one thing needed to beat the best specialist in Berlin or anywhere else, but as you both aim at getting to England you can’t do it.’

  ‘What is that?’ we asked.

  ‘One of ye commit suicide!’ said the Doc., laughing.

  ‘By Jove! That’s a good idea!’ I cried. ‘We’ll both try it.’

  ‘Don’t be a fool!’ he began sharply, then – seeing the merriment in our eyes – ‘Oh! Be natural! Be natural an’ you’ll bamboozle Aesculapius himself.’ He dodged the pillow Hill threw at him and clattered down the stairs chuckling to himself.

  Within five minutes of his going we decided to hang ourselves – ‘within limits’ – on the way to Constantinople.

  A little later the Pimple arrived, with the compliments and thanks of the Commandant to the Spook, and would the Spook be so kind as to dictate a telegram about us to the War Office? The Spook was most obliging, and somewhere amongst the Turkish archives at Constantinople the following telegram reposes:

  ‘For over a year two officer prisoners here have spent much time in study of spiritualism and telepathy, and have shown increasing signs of mental derangement which recently have become very noticeable. I therefore summoned our military doctors Major Osman and Captain Suhbi Fahri who after examination diagnosed melancholia in the case of Hill and fixed delusion in the case of Jones and advised their despatch to Constantinople for observation and treatment. Doctors warn me these two officers may commit suicide or violence. I respectfully request I may be allowed to send them as soon as possible. Transport will be available in a few days when prisoners from Changri arrive. If permitted I shall send them with necessary escort under charge of my Interpreter who can watch and look after them en route and give any further information required by the specialists. Until his return may I have the services of the Changri Interpreter? My report together with the report of the doctors, follows by post. Submitted for favour of urgent orders.’

  This spook-telegram was sent by the Commandant on 14th April 1918, at 5 p.m. The same night the Spook dictated a report on our case, of a character so useful to the Constantinople specialists that Kiazim was thanked for it by his superiors at headquarters. The spook-report (which should also be among the Constantinople archives) is as follows:

  ‘In reference to my wire of 14th April I beg to report as follows: As will be seen from the enclosed medical reports written by Major Osman and Captain Suhbi Fahri, the Military Medical Officers of Yozgad, there are two officers in this camp who are suffering from grave mental disease. The doctors recommend their despatch to Constantinople for observation and treatment, and I beg to urge that this be done as early as possible, as the doctors warn me they may commit suicide or violence, and I am anxious to avoid any such trouble in this camp.

  ‘In addition to the information contained in the medical reports I beg to submit the following facts for guidance and consideration. The two officers are Lieut. Hill and Lieut. Jones. The former came here with the prisoners from Katia. The latter from Kut-el-Amarah. I have made enquiries about both. I find Lieut. Hill has always been a remarkably silent and solitary man. He has the reputation of never speaking unless spoken to, and then only answers in monosyllables. During his stay here he has been growing more and more morose and gloomy. Lieut. Jones is regarded by his fellow prisoners as eccentric and peculiar. I myself have noticed an increasing slovenliness in his dress since he came here. I learn that he has done a number of little things which caused his comrades to regard him as peculiar. For instance, sixteen months ago he spent a week sliding down the stairs in his house and calling himself the “Toboggan King”. On another occasion when receiving a parcel from England in this office he expressed disgust at the “rubbish” which was sent him, and drawing out a pocketknife he slashed into ribbons a valuable waterproof sheet which had been included in his parcel. This was about a year ago.64 Such appears to be the reputation of these two officers in the camp.

  ‘About eighteen months ago a number of officers began to take up spiritualism. Among these Jones was prominent. He asserted he was in communication with the dead and for some time he even published the news he thus obtained. I do not know when Hill began, but he also was a keen spiritualist. They have both spent a great deal of their time in this pursuit. Whether or not this has anything to do with their present condition I cannot say. Many other officers did the same and I saw no reason to interfere as I considered it a legitimate amusement.

  ‘These two officers also appear to have studied what they call “telepathy”, and about two or three months ago they gave an exhibition of thought-reading, part of which my Interpreter saw and which considerably surprised their fellow officers. Later Hill and Jones asserted they were in communication (telepathic) with people in Europe and elsewhere as well as with the dead. Early in March, as I reported to you in my letter of the 18th March, Jones and Hill were found guilty on a charge of attempting to communicate with some person in Yozgad whose name they refused to give, and as I reported, I confined them in a separate house and forbade any intercourse with the rest of the camp. I allowed them to have their food sent in from Major Baylay’s house, which is near.

  ‘While in confinement these two officers appear to have got the idea that their comrades in the camp disliked them, and this idea developed into delusion and terror that they were going to be murdered. Their condition became so grave that I called in the two medical officers, who had no hesitation, after examining them, in recommending their despatch to Constantinople.

  ‘Meantime, until their departure, by the advice of Major Osman and Captain Suhbi Fahri, I have posted a special guard over the patients to prevent them from doing themselves or others any harm.

  ‘With regard to the journey, as reported in my telegram I beg leave to send them under charge of my Interpreter with a sufficient escort, as the sufferers are accustomed to him and he will be able to understand their wants, and especially because knowing all they have done he may be of assistance to the specialists in their enquiry. Until his return I would like the services of the Changri Interpreter, but if necessary, for a short time, I could communicate any orders that may be necessary direct as several British officers here know a little Turkish.

  The report was posted on the 15th April. On the 16th the Commandant received from Constantinople the following telegram in answer to the Spook’s wire:

  Number 887. 15th April. Urgent. Very important. Answer to your cipher wire No. 77. Under your proposed arrangement send to the Hospital of Haidar Pasha the two English Officers who have to be under observation. Communicate with the Commandant Changri. – KEMAL.

  ‘Hurrah!’ said Moïse, when he brought us the news, ‘the Spook has controlled Constantinople!’

  Chapter XXIII

  In Which the Spook Persuades Moïse to Volunteer for Active Service

  The telegram from Kemal Pasha, ordering us to be sent to Constantinople, arrived on the 16th April. The prisoners from Changri, bringing with them the Interpreter who was to take the place of the Pimple, reached Yozgad on the 24th. Hill and I left for Angora on the 26th.

  The Spook explained that though we would probably read AAA’s thoughts and discover the position of the third clue as soon as we got to Constantinople, it was essential for our safety that the Constantinople specialists should, for a time, think us slightly deranged and in need of a course of treatment. Therefore it behoved Moïse to endeavour to bring this about by reporting to the Constantinople authorities the things which the Spook would tell him to report, and learning his lesson carefully.

  ‘What will happen to the mediums,’ the Pimple asked, ‘if the specialists do not think them slightly deranged?’

  ‘Jail, mon petit cheri chou!’ said the Spook. ‘Jail for malingering, and they will not return to Yozgad to continue our experiments. You must play your part.’

  The Pimple’s part, the Spook explained, was to observe and note carefully everything the mediums said and did
. At the request of the Spook, as soon as the Yozgad doctors had declared us mad, the Commandant publicly ordered Moïse to make notes of our behaviour, for the benefit of the doctors at the Haidar Pasha hospital. The Spook declared that from now on the mediums would be kept ‘under control’ so as to appear mad, for control being a species of hypnotism the oftener we were placed in that condition the easier it would be for the Spook to impose its will on us in Constantinople to deceive the specialists. Thus, while the Turks thought the Spook was practising on us, making us appear mad, we were really practising our madness on the Turks. Doc. O’Farrell visited us every day. The Turks thought he too was ‘under control’ and that he was puzzled by our symptoms. In point of fact he was coaching us very carefully in what things were fit and proper for a ‘melancholic’ and ‘a furious’ to do and say, for we had decided to adhere to the two distinct types of madness diagnosed by the Yozgad doctors. What he secretly taught us each morning, the Spook made us do ‘under control’ each evening, when it was duly noted down by the Pimple. These notes were revised and corrected by the Spook at regular intervals. In this way we piled up a goodly store of evidence as to our insanity.

  Every evening, after the rest of the camp had been locked up, we held séances, and at every séance the poor Pimple was put through his lesson. Over and over again he was made to recite to the spook-board what he had to say to the Constantinople doctors. It made a strange picture: Moïse, leaning over the piece of tin that was his Delphic oracle, told his tale as he would tell it at Haidar Pasha. His face used to be lined with anxiety lest he should go wrong and incur the wrath of the Unknown. Hill and I, pale and thin with starvation, and the strain of our long deception, sat motionless (and, as Moïse thought, unconscious), with our fingers resting on the glass and every sense strained to detect the slightest error in the Pimple’s story or in his tone or manner of telling it. And when the mistakes came (as to begin with they did with some frequency), the glass would bang out the Spook’s wrath with every sign of anger and there would follow the trembling apologies and stammered emendations of the unhappy Interpreter. Hill and I had got beyond the stage of wanting to laugh, for we were working now at our last hope. It was absolutely essential that the Pimple’s story should be without flaw.