Bretherton

by Morris, W. F. ;

  But a plan was not easy to concoct. Cutting one’s way through the wire was impossible; bluffing one’s way out of the camp had been tried and was not at all likely to be successful a second time; being carried out in a linen-basket or refuse-box was out of the question since the last unsuccessful attempts; and now the tunnel had failed them.

  It was Bretherton who thought of a plan. He was prowling around the camp one afternoon when he noticed a rubbish-box standing within three or four feet of the inner fence. This was a box that usually stood in one of the passages. Periodically the British and French orderlies under escort emptied it outside the camp, usually during the morning. Sometimes, however, when the box was filled up during the afternoon, it was stood out in the yard and emptied the next morning.

  Bretherton meditated upon the germ of his idea for a couple of days and then consulted Melford; and together they discussed and enlarged the idea. One of them would hide inside the box; the box would be placed close to the wire fence, and through a hole cut for the purpose the man inside would cut the wire. That was the plan in outline. There were other difficulties to be overcome, principally the sentries and the second fence. The details would need to be worked out very carefully, but they were both agreed that there was meat in the idea and that by carefully thinking around the subject the difficulties could be surmounted.

  For a week or more they discussed nothing else. A large number of fresh suggestions were made, most of which were discarded, though a few were retained. They worked on the system that if Melford made a suggestion, Bretherton put the case against it as strongly as possible; and Melford did the same to Bretherton’s suggestions. Each acted as Devil’s Advocate to the suggestions of the other, and ideas were adopted only after they had been mercilessly criticized. Step by step the whole plan was worked out and the details arranged to their satisfaction. But some knowledge of the topography of the camp is necessary for its understanding.

  IV

  One must imagine a large rectangular enclosure, near one corner of which is the L-shaped building surrounded by a small garden. The remainder of the enclosure formed the exercise-ground, and was bordered on three sides by the wire fence, and upon the fourth by the L building and an inner fence that separated the orderlies’ quarters from the remainder of the camp. A line of trees, some ten paces apart, ran the length of the exercise-ground parallel with the wire fence and about thirty feet from it. At one end of the ground, and some twenty feet from the fence on that side, were the day latrines. There were two gates to the camp. The main gate faced a wing of the L building, and consisted two heavy wooden gates, one in each of the two fences. A sentry was always on duty here, and the guard-room was close to the gate just beyond the outer fence. The other entrance led out from the exercise-ground and was about half-way along the wire fence which bordered it. Like the main entrance, it consisted of two gates, but here they were not opposite to each other. On passing the gate in the inner fence one had to walk a yard or two between the fences before reaching the outer gate. This was the gate which was used by the orderlies and their escort when carrying rubbish out of the camp. There was no permanent sentry here, but the sentry patrolling this side of the camp had the keys of the two gates.

  The two fences were twelve feet apart, and the sentries patrolled between them. By day one sentry patrolled each of the four sides of the camp, but after dark an extra sentry was posted on each of the two longer sides. And finally, each of the two shorter sides of the enclosing fence was lighted by two electric standards, and each of the two longer sides by three standards.

  Bretherton and Melford had considered these facts in detail, and their plan of escape was founded upon them. At night they had been hard at work upon the rubbish-box and had constructed a removable false bottom on which the rubbish could rest while a man lay concealed beneath. A panel large enough for a man to crawl through had been cut in one side of the box, and at one end a hole had been made, through which an arm could be thrust. Both these holes had been neatly filled in again and could be opened and closed from inside.

  The scheme was to be put into execution at dusk just before the extra sentries came on duty. The electric standards would be lighted, but that could not be avoided. Melford, as senior, had chosen to be in the box. A party of trusty French and British orderlies would carry it out late in the afternoon across the exercise-ground and place it close to the wire, opposite the gate in the outer fence. Melford would put his arm through the hole and cut the wire. He would have only one sentry to watch, as the sentry patrolling the side at right-angles was masked, except at the very end of his beat, by the latrines. Bretherton was to watch from the latrines, and by whistling prearranged tunes, warn him of the sentry’s approach. Bretherton had nicknamed the latrines the “conning-tower,” for it was from here that he would control the subsequent operations.

  On a given signal from him, a number of officers were to approach the wire in one corner and create a disturbance. It was hoped that the sentry would be induced to remain for a short time at the end of his beat where the disturbance was taking place. A second disturbance was to be staged in another corner for the benefit of the sentry on that side. Bretherton was then to flit across the thirty yards that separated the box from the conning-tower, slip through the hole in the first fence, and cross to the outer gate, which they had good reason to believe would be unlocked. Once through this gate there remained only ten or twelve yards of open lighted ground to be crossed before reaching the woods which grew close up to the camp on that side. Meanwhile, Melford would have crawled out of the box and be close behind.

  The kommandantur closed at a quarter to seven each evening, and the staff passed out of the camp by this side gate; and Bretherton had noticed that although the sentry always locked the inner gate after them, he often left the outer gate unlocked for his relief and the extra sentry who came on duty at seven. However, in case the gate should prove to be locked, Bretherton was to carry a small crowbar with which to wrench off the padlock and staple. This outer gate was not the solid affair that the inner one was. They had examined the staple through glasses from the latrines, and one of the orderlies had assured them that it could easily be wrenched off.

  Such was the scheme, but its success depended upon the accuracy with which the details were carried out. The box would have to be placed in exactly the right position and angle for cutting the wire, and much depended upon the choice of the actual moment of escape, which, in order to take full advantage of the dusk, would have to be left till after the kommandantur staff had passed out and just before the extra sentries were posted. Upon Bretherton rested the responsibility of deciding this moment.

  CHAPTER XV

  I

  At last their preparations were complete. The alterations in the box had been made, the band of orderlies chosen, and the two diversion parties—the song-and-dance items, as they called themselves—detailed.

  The night before the eventful day, Bretherton and Melford emptied the box and fitted in the false bottom. The upper part of the box was refilled with rubbish, and the surplus carefully hidden. Then they made a final overhaul of their kit—clothing, food, matches, compasses and maps—to make quite sure that nothing had been forgotten. The food, maps, and compasses were distributed between the pockets of the civilian clothes and the haversack that each was to carry. They went over their plan of operations for the hundredth time and rehearsed the signals that Bretherton was to give from the conning-tower; and then, satisfied that each knew his part and that the scheme was as perfect as was possible in the circumstances, they went to bed.

  The following day seemed to Bretherton the longest he had ever spent. The scheme now seemed madness and foredoomed to failure. A dozen exigencies might arise and ruin it. Too much depended upon a favourable coincidence of circumstances over which they had no control. Such were his thoughts as he prowled restlessly about the camp, thoughts bred by excitement, suspense, and inaction. He would be steady enough, he knew, when the tim
e came for action.

  He had marked with four stones the exact position in which the box was to be placed—a task that had taken him more than an hour, since loitering near the wire was both dangerous and likely to arouse suspicion. But it was essential that the box should be placed aright. The reach of a man’s arm through a hole has very definite limits. Melford had got into the box at night, and they had ascertained the angle that would give the maximum of cover from the sentry and the greatest ease in cutting the wire. It had been impossible to rehearse the orderlies in their part, but a French officer had volunteered to disguise himself as an orderly and to superintend the placing of the box.

  The kommandantur staff had a meal at midday, and advantage was taken of their absence to get Melford into the box. As soon as the scouts reported that the Germans had left the building, Melford put on his civilian clothes and haversack; the manhole in the box was opened, and he crawled inside. He would have seven hours to wait in his cramped quarters, but since the box stood in a long passage that led to the kommandantur it was thought to be too risky an undertaking to attempt to enter it when any Germans were in the building.

  Melford was now safely in the box; and Bretherton resigned himself to wait until the next event, which was the carrying out of the box, was put into execution at four-thirty.

  An orderly’s clothes had been smuggled into the French officer’s room’, and at a quarter to four he made the necessary changes in his clothing and appearance. Bretherton, prowling restlessly about the exercise-yard, saw the three chosen orderlies pass one by one and by separate doors into the building. Presently Deane, the officer who was to pass the signal that the coast was clear, appeared at one of the doors and lounged negligently against the door-post. Bretherton covertly surveyed the enclosure. With the exception of the sentries patrolling between the wire, no Germans were about. He gave the signal by whistling a few bars of “The Tarpaulin Jacket”—“And six stalwart lancers shall carry me, carry me.”

  Deane slightly turned his head and tapped out his pipe against the door-post; and a few seconds later four orderlies carrying a large box of rubbish emerged from the doorway. They passed quite close to Bretherton as he sauntered about the yard, and the disguised French officer gave him a wink as he went by. To Bretherton’s anxious eyes they seemed to stagger more than should be necessary with a box of that size; but they passed safely across the exercise-ground and approached the wire. The sentry stopped when he saw them coming, and walked slowly along his beat towards them.

  Bretherton watched him anxiously. But the French officer did his part to perfection. He edged his party round so that they came up to the wire at the correct angle, and he dumped the box with apparent carelessness; but it rested on the exact place marked out by Bretherton. Then the four turned and marched back across the yard. The sentry stood looking at the box for a minute or two, and then, to Bretherton’s relief, resumed his beat.

  One more step in the scheme had been taken successfully; and once more he resigned himself to inactivity and an intolerable wait of two and a half hours before it would be time for him to take up his position in the conning-tower. After half an hour had elapsed, he smuggled his haversack over to the latrines and hid it there. Another hour went by, and he smuggled his civilian coat and cap to the same place. Three-quarters of an hour dragged by with incredible slowness, and then he walked over to the conning-tower.

  Again he became a prey to anxiety. It was the kommandantur staff that worried him now. If they delayed the time of their departure even by a few minutes, Melford might not have time to cut the wire; for it had been decided not to cut the wire till after they had passed. It would take him less than five minutes, he had said, but the time for the whole operation of escaping had been cut very fine. The kommandantur staff did not leave till a quarter to seven, and the new guard and extra sentries came on duty at seven. Allowing five minutes for cutting the wire, only ten minutes remained for the actual escape. A slight hold-up might be disastrous.

  Bretherton had synchronized his watch with the camp clock, and as the time approached a quarter to seven, he kept his eyes fixed on the door through which the kommandantur staff would appear. They never were late—they were going off duty; but this night of all nights they must not be late. If for any reason Bretherton thought that the wire should be cut earlier, he was to whistle “Coming thro’ the Rye.” In any case he was to give the signal as soon as the kommandantur staff was clear of the camp.

  The hands of his watch pointed to a quarter to seven, and then to fourteen minutes to seven; but the kommandantur staff did not appear. He decided to give them one minute more. And then at last they appeared in the doorway just as his lips shaped themselves for the signal. At the same moment the lights around the camp were turned on. The Germans seemed to crawl across the exercise-ground. They reached the gate and stood within a yard or two of the box while the sentry fumbled with the lock. The gate swung open, and they passed through. The sentry closed and locked it behind them. They reached the outer gate; the sentry unlocked it; they passed through, but halted outside and stood talking to the sentry. It was now eleven minutes to seven.

  At last the kommandantur staff walked away, but the sentry stood at the gate looking after them. Seconds passed and then he turned, closed the gate, and—locked it.

  Bretherton muttered a curse beneath his breath. He would have to use the crowbar after all. He was cool enough now. His time for action had come. The moment the sentry moved off on his beat between the fences he whistled “Coming thro’ the Rye” flung off his military tunic, and hurried into the civilian coat and haversack. He looked at his watch; eight minutes to seven. The light was failing rapidly. In another ten minutes it would be quite dark.

  He made a rapid calculation. The new guard and extra sentries paraded outside the guard-hut at seven. They first relieved the sentry at the main gate, and then the sentry on that side of the camp. Then they marched round outside the wire to the side gate through which he must escape. All this took time. Nearly ten minutes must elapse from the time the guard paraded to the moment when they turned the corner of the camp and came into view of the side gate. The minutes of gathering darkness were precious; he would need all the concealment he could get during the time that he must stand up and wrench off the padlock. He determined to wait till seven when the guard paraded. He would be able to hear the sergeant’s voice calling out the guard should they parade a minute or two earlier.

  In the distance he could see the dim figure of the officer who for greater certainty was to pass on his signal to the song-and-dance party. It was now five minutes to seven, and if all had gone well, Melford had cut the wire. The minutes dragged slowly by. Daylight was almost gone.

  At one minute to seven he heard the sergeant’s voice from the guard-house on the other side of the camp. He took a long breath and whistled “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” Across the exercise-ground someone began whistling, the same tune, and a moment later an uproar broke out in a far corner. The sentry, who was marching towards the side gate, paused at the noise, and after a momentary hesitation, turned and walked slowly towards it. Faint sounds of a distant argument came from the other direction.

  It was now or never. Bretherton sped swiftly and silently from the latrines to the nearest tree, and from the tree to the box. He crouched behind it and rapped sharply upon the side. The manhole opened.

  “The wire’s cut, but you will have to part the strands,” whispered Melford.

  “The gate is locked,” Bretherton told him. “Wait till I’ve opened it. No need for both to be shot at.”

  He threw one glance at the retreating back of the sentry, parted the strands of wire, and crawled through. A loose end caught in his haversack, but Melford released him. Bent double, he crossed the space between the two fences, stood holdly upright, inserted the crowbar in the staple, and heaved. The staple creaked but did not give. He was nearly midway between two light standards, and he was startlingly visible standing upright ag
ainst the gate. Each moment he expected to hear the crack of a rifle and feel the brutal kick of a bullet in his body.

  He pushed the crowbar farther through the staple and flung all his weight upon the lever. It moved. The staple flew from the post; the crowbar clanked to the ground. He glanced behind and saw that Melford was already through the wire. Then he pushed open the gate and ran for the shelter of the trees. He saw his elongated shadow dancing and sprawling ahead of him, the trees green and sharp-cut like theatrical scenery in the glare of the arcs. And then he lay panting among the undergrowth with Melford beside him.

  “First lap,” murmured Melford. They rose and ran without speaking deeper and deeper into the woods.

  Bent double, he crossed the space between.

  II

  There were no sounds of pursuit behind them, and when they had gone four or five hundred yards, they took a compass bearing and marched north-north-west. A mile farther on they turned due west, thus passing round to the north of the camp and village. At the end of an hour they came to the edge of the woods. They halted within the shelter of the trees and held a council of war. Below them was the road which they had intended to follow. The veteran escapers had advised them to follow roads. After ten o’clock at night few or no walkers abroad would be met, and the slight additional risk one incurred in this way was more than compensated for by the increased pace and comfort of marching and immunity from having to make long detours to avoid impassable ground.

  Their original plan had been to halt on the edge of the woods and continue the march along the roads after ten o’clock. Had the outer gate been unlocked, the Germans would not have discovered their escape till the morning appel, since arrangements had been made to fake the eight-thirty appel. This would not have been difficult, as a great deal of ragging always went on, and the Germans often had to count the prisoners three or four times, usually with a different total each time. But now that the padlock was wrenched off the gate, the new guard could hardly fail to draw the obvious conclusion, even though Melford had closed the box before leaving and had had the presence of mind to remove the tell-tale crowbar. Surrounding villages would be warned, and cyclists would be sent out to look for them. The road, therefore, was unsafe. Nor could they halt on the edge of the woods as they had originally intended.