i have little sympathy for any prisoner who, having been so unfortunate as to have been taken by the enemy, allowed himself to settle down to prison discipline, practically a subject of the enemy, without standing up like a man and at least trying to escape.
around a prison camp one hears many, many big ideas of escaping, but there are comparatively few actual attempts. in fact, this boasting habit got on one man to such an extent that he was known as “wild fugitive bill,” for the reason that he was always concocting some new and novel means of escape and yet never had the nerve himself to put it through. always at the last moment he would get cold feet and give up.
the real test of courage comes when mental plans end and physical action begins. some prisoners have even prided themselves upon being model prisoners. i have even heard a captain of infantry call the americans together and suggest that some of us quit raising so much hell during roll call as our actions were counted against all the americans. i pride myself on the fact that i “raised hell” at 239every opportunity from the time i was made prisoner until i was released. the more trouble the prisoners of war caused the enemy the more men the enemy must keep away from the battle line to guard the disturbers. not many prisoners considered this a point, but i believe that as long as there is war the enemy should be fought and embarrassed—inside and outside.
karlsruhe seemed to be my ultimate destination, so after a few days to allow me to catch up on food which was more plentiful here on account of the remarkable contribution of the american red cross, i again began to set my mind to escaping.
i talked it over with all the old prisoners and they said that no one had yet been able to escape from karlsruhe, so, in order to get the advantage of experience i talked it over with everyone who had ever tried it. it seemed that the camp was only for concentration, and as statistics showed that the majority of escapes were attempted by newly made prisoners, this camp was especially guarded in order to challenge all comers and to discourage them early in the game. i looked over where every previous attempt had been made and was told just how it had failed to materialize.
the entire camp was certainly well guarded. it had one inner, high fence of barbed wire and one outside fence constructed of wood, about twelve feet high and on top of it was a quarter arc of steel extending inward, heavily covered with barbed wire. they had several guards on the inside and quite a 240large number on the outside, and both the inside and outside fences were well illuminated with electric lights.
at one place along the high, back fence the guards had constructed a sort of chicken house, which threw a shadow against the fence, making it possible, providing enough assistance was rendered, to construct a small tunnel. the bunch, which consisted of oscar mandel of new jersey, a couple of other birds and myself, got together right after the evening meal and talked it over. after full deliberation we decided to try. it was our intention to have it as secret as could be, and we planned there would be only four of us in that escape—and no more; so, after we pledged to one another that we would tell absolutely no one else about it, we shook hands and started right away to make the preparations for the dirty work. of course, the big job at first was to construct that tunnel for the man who should draw that job would get the real lemon. the beat of one of the guards took him about every three minutes to within about ten feet of the place, and of course, directly on the outside was another guard whose movements would have to be largely guessed at.
the approved plan was to put the “tunnel man” over the barbed wire fence; station another man on the inside, walking back and forth, whistling or something of the like to give the proper signals; then put the other two men at different corners near the buildings close by in order to signal the movements 241of the watchman to the man walking back and forth.
stepping into the light we got a deck of cards and made the agreement that the man who got the lowest card would go over the fence and dig the tunnel and the man who got the next would do the signaling. mandel shuffled and blacky, a little english doughboy, drew the first card. it was a two of diamonds. mack, the second lad, drew a queen. mandel, whom we called mendelssohn as he was a wonderful musician and also a past master in the art of escaping, picked an eight of clubs. i had a good chance for i didn’t think it likely that i could get a lower card than blackie’s “two,” so i snapped out a card just as unconcerned as could be and hastily looked at it—it was the ace of hearts. now the question was whether the ace was high or low. i had lots of queer sensations. we had made no agreement about it before drawing, so, i said nothing until the other two boys spoke up and said it seemed to them that ace should be high. mandel suggested that in order to be fair that we draw over again, it being agreed that the ace would be high. this time i drew first in order that all the high cards would not get away. i picked a winner—the three spot of something—just what didn’t worry me for i knew the thing was settled and that i would have to go and dig that tunnel. i was picturing myself out there getting shot at when blackie again saved the day by pulling his same two of diamonds. several sighs of relief were registered by my heaving lungs for my draw assigned me as outer watchman 242where i had to give blackie signals all the time. it was quite different than being between two fences, guns all around me and no place to hide.
we agreed to start at once, so, instead of putting mandel and mack at the outer corners of the house nearest the scene of operations, we decided to station them at different windows in the house, so as not to cause suspicion by having too many outside. all the blinds were drawn on account of air raids, so we arranged that as the boys walked back and forth in front of the door, that they should quietly keep me informed as to the exact location of the guards.
my signals to blackie were very simple: whenever i whistled a tune that sounded like ragtime he was to lay off; when i whistled a tune that sounded melancholy he was to work for all he was worth.
“do you understand thoroughly, old man?” i asked before he left to crawl over the first fence.
“sure, you don’t think i’m deaf, do you?” he answered in his incomparable english cockney, as he shook my hand and started for the fence.
blackie got over the first wire fence with remarkable agility, but he was hardly over when he remarked he had forgotten his little coal shovel which was the only tool we had. finally we found this for him and as soon as i returned to my post mandel gave me the signal that all was clear, so i began whistling the army funeral march, and i heard blackie plugging away. in a few minutes when the boys signaled that the guard was again approaching, 243i began to whistle “in the good old summer time,” but to my amazement i heard blackie still working away. then, to get something real raggy i whistled “alexander’s rag time band,” but still blackie worked on. the guard was fast approaching. something had to be done for if he kept on working he would sure be caught, so, stepping right out in front of the guard, who, of course, could not speak english, i began to sing a very sad and mournful tune, with my own lyrics.
“blackie,” i sang, “this guard is right behind me and for the love of mike, lay off.”
blackie stopped; i kept on singing, and the old guard walked right on by. when he was on the other side of the building i rushed up to blackie.
“blackie, you damn fool,” i softly exclaimed, “can’t you tell ragtime from a classic?”
“ragtime,” he said in barely audible cockney english, “why ragtime’s the name of a song, and by the way, old fellow, if you don’t like the way i’m digging this tunnel, come and try a hand at it yourself. it’s beastly, you know.”
“go ahead,” i argued, “but from now on i’ll whistle only when he is coming. get me?”
the next time the guard came around the corner of the building i began to whistle. to my surprise blackie kept on working. i began to whistle louder than ever, but he kept right on, so, as the guard approached me, i stopped whistling and instantly blackie quit working. as the guard passed on i again went over to blackie and said,
244“hey, you poor fish! didn’t you hear me say to quit work when i whistled?”
“oh, you’re wrong, old chap,” he insisted. “you said very plainly to work only when you whistled.”
i began to think blackie had to have it impressed upon him, so, i said, “all right, now. forget it all and let’s start over. next time remember that when i whistle you work. see, when i whistle, i work; and when i whistle, you work, too.”
he understood this illustration pretty well and we kept this going successfully until about roll call, which was at nine o’clock. then i asked blackie if the tunnel was dug plenty deep enough. he was quite sure it was deep enough to get through, so, he crawled over the wire fence again, and we all beat it to our quarters to pack up our few belongings with the agreement that we would meet just outside the assembly shack right after roll call had finished.
this escape, as i have stated, was to be between four of us and no more; but i would swear, there were a hundred eyes on me at roll call. and afterwards, not more than fifteen guys came around and wished me luck.
“luck on what?” i asked one fellow.
“why,” he said inquiringly at my question, “you’re going to try to escape, aren’t you?”
so, my well-wishing friends all began to talk about how they wished they had an opportunity to get away too, and all that bunk. i have concluded that a bunch of prisoners are the worst gossipers in the world anyway. tell one and you tell all. this first 245experience taught me at a dear cost, one of the most valuable lessons of my life. when you are going to escape, or, in fact, try anything else which from its nature requires secrecy, never, under any circumstances, take any one into your confidence, and at most, if ever, only one trusted pal. i had heard the same bluff before, so, i told them if they wanted to get out after we had gotten away, to go ahead, they knew where the hole was, but not to go around and cackle about it like a bunch of old hens; either to get their clothes ready and try to escape or else to go to bed and let some one else try it.
in escaping, the first man to try has not only the greatest opportunity to escape, but also takes the greatest hazards in that if the plot is discovered beforehand, the guards will be on the job waiting for him, while if it is not discovered he has the best chance to get farthest away before the hounds are given the trail.
it was the same old test of passing from words to action, and, so with that bunch of twelve or fifteen who said they wanted to escape. when it came down to the courage of action their wishes were merely words. of that number, including the four original conspirators, only two went ahead with it. the other fellow who kept faith with me was oscar mandel.
most of the rest of the men all beat it to their different bunks; some hung around to see the fun, while mandel and i stayed on the job. i took all of my insignia off of my coat in order that there might be nothing to reflect any rays of light that might 246strike us. then, we mixed some mud and blacked our faces and hands in order that they would not stand out against the blackness of the night.
mandel and i matched and it was decreed that i should go first and that i would wait across the road for him. if i got caught i was to make a lot of noise and, if he was also unfortunate, he would do the same.
an electric tram line ran right along by the camp and we felt that by following this road we would, at least, get out of the town. so, with a fond farewell to the camp, as the guard went around his beat, i slunk along in the shadows of the building. in the death-like stillness could be heard beyond the other fence, the steady beat of the outer watchman. over to my right the guard of the inner camp was just stepping out of sight. could ever opportunity be better than this? the time had arrived. i stepped up to the first wire fence, and threw my little sack over, then getting near a post i began to climb over. i cut my hands a lot on the barbed wire, but that was only incidental, and did not bother me. i weighed too much to get over like blackie. it seemed to me that every wire i stepped on squeaked like the high “e” string of a toy violin.
i dropped myself within the enclosure and ran along, slinking in the shadows of the fence, until i came to the tunnel. here was a disappointment. i could no more get through it than an elephant would have a chance of entering a doll house. it might have been o.k. for blackie, but he miscalculated for 247me. it was not large enough for my shoulders, so, peeping out i saw the other german sentry, not over twenty feet away, and in his apparent unsuspecting demeanor i also saw my first step toward liberty.
i realized it would be necessary to make the tunnel considerably larger if i ever expected to get through it. blackie had made a bum job of it and worse, he had taken the shovel with him, and i had no implements whatsoever, except an unusually large jack-knife. whipping loose the big blade i began to cut the frozen ground, taking a look around and then chipping away like a beaver at a dam. i felt like a real criminal and every motion picture play i had ever seen, of escaping prisoners, played vividly on my mind. i was working frantically and getting along pretty well, too, in spite of my rude implement, when all of a sudden i heard a tremendous noise that made me think that i was knocking on the door of hades—it was a big siren blowing a warning for an air raid. our allied bombers were coming over to pay a visit to karlsruhe. believe me, i was for them. the reverberation of that siren was deafening, but i was certainly taking advantage of its tremendous noise by chugging away with all my might, when suddenly, not over a hundred and twenty-five feet from me a huge 107 calibre anti-aircraft gun exploded. i leaped like a squirrel against that fence for i felt sure that the gun had been aimed at me, and furthermore, that i had been hit. pulling myself together i realized that it was heavy artillery instead of a short-barreled shotgun. immediately 248other huge guns began to fire and for a few minutes there was a real bombardment going on around there—the whole earth was shaking. i kept right on digging away for it was the chance of my life. of course, all the guards were frightened and confused and were chasing back and forth, crying out strange ejaculations and perfectly good german words of profanity, mixed with earnest prayers from “gott mitt uns” to “teufel strafe ’em,” for, believe me, they were acquainted with the variety of bombs dropped by the allies.
about this time everyone was out of the huts looking for the airplanes in the sky, and the inner guards were making a big rumpus and causing them to close the doors so the lights would not show, which, of course, would give away the presence of the “enemy.”
in all this confusion and excitement i thought it was a good time to duck, for while i did not feel that the hole was quite big enough, yet i would try it anyhow because i probably would never have such an opportunity again. so, i started out. after considerable grunting and labor i got my head and shoulders through, and then my coat caught on a nail on the bottom of the fence and in spite of every imaginable maneuver from a wiggle to a “shimmie,” i simply could not pull through. in twisting and squirming i shook the fence, whereupon the excited guard on the outside noticing me, came running up at full speed ahead and with pointed bayonet he frothed, “loze! loze! vass is dass?” 249he was more excited over me than he was the prospect of a bomb dropping on the both of us. he thought that gehenna had surely been transferred to karlsruhe and that the whole camp was on the march. i thought he was going to take me for a practice dummy and judging from his speed i decided that he could not possibly stop until he had put that bayonet completely through me. he must have realized that if he captured me alive he would get more credit for it. exasperated like a sick infant with the mumps, excited like a school girl at her graduation, and worked up like a hebrew at a bargain, he cried out, “commen sie aus! commen sie aus!” making all sorts of ejaculations and motions, indicating clearly that he wanted me to come on out. he was making more noise than the archies.
about this time i began to feel my leg being violently kicked and some one beating against the fence from the inside, also crying out, “commen sie in!” this old boy on whose beat i had escaped had real cause for concern, for he knew that he would be placed in jail for allowing me to get away should i get the rest of the way out. no wonder he had an interest in the matter.
in a jiffy the two guards were in a dog fight over a bone—yours truly being the bone and the bone of contention—one was kicking me and the other pulling me—one anxious to get the bonus for capturing me and the other trying to save himself from jail. i was not only under the fence, but i was on both sides of it. i was afraid if i went on out the guard on 250the inside would shoot me, and if i backed in i knew i would be punished and i did not know but that the guard on the outside might become real excited and stick me. so, while they were fighting between themselves, one pulling and the other tugging at me, i decided that if i did go on out i might have a chance to hit this other guy on the bean and take a run for liberty. the guns were firing all the time and things were getting good and hot around there. the boy on the inside was about as scared of the guns as he was of my escaping, so, i began to tug and with the help of the other sentry was pulling myself through. then the old boy on the inside administered his trusty bayonet blade to my leg, and while i cannot describe the particular motion through which he went, i can certainly testify that he gave me one mighty persuasive jab. for believe me, i sure did back in at the rate of a mile a minute, for i had no further inclination whatsoever to go on out. i realized that duty called me at the camp, and while it had taken me fully five minutes to get my anatomy that far out—well, this little flying machine had a reversible propeller, that’s all.
the old boy on the inside was terribly sore, because in climbing the fence after me he had torn his nice, new, green pants, yet he was over-delighted that he had saved himself from jail. as we walked up to the fence i attempted to climb the wire first, whereupon the old boy said, “nicht! nein!” and menaced me again with his bayonet. needless to say—i unhesitatingly obeyed. i had hoped, should 251i have gotten over the fence first, to run immediately to my bunk and fool the foxy old boy, but when he flashed that bayonet on me it was the halt sign of my new fraternity. a little blood was beginning to trickle down my leg and i began to feel pretty much like a stuck pig, so, in courtesy, i let the old boy climb over first and i went after him.
on the way to headquarters, i realized that i had a compass and a map and knowing what it would mean if these were found on me, as we walked along, i carefully slipped my hand in my pocket and crumpled up the map. i then began to cough violently, whereupon i took out my handkerchief with my left hand and put it over my mouth, and in so doing i managed to put the tiny map in my mouth; then i chewed it up and swallowed it. i didn’t know what gag to pull with that compass, and i didn’t dare to swallow it. the old german who was taking me along didn’t feel any sympathy for me, but kept poking me along in spite of my overemphasized limping. finally i deliberately stumbled and fell, but as i fell i threw that compass a good twenty yards away, and into a section of the lot where it was not likely to be found. then after considerable moral persuasion, i got up and went over to the headquarters with the feeling that in spite of the worst i had saved myself, at least, two weeks in jail.
in a very cold room, at headquarters, they summoned the commander of the camp, the officer of the night, and the officer of the guard, and all the sergeants and corporals at the camp. then the 252joint board was in session. they gathered around and proceeded to cause me a good deal of embarrassment because they took off all of my clothes and did not leave me enough in which to feel modest. like a poor, belated, half-soaked, blind owl, after an april shower, naked from head to foot, with my face and hands covered with mud, i stood there waiting for them to finish searching my clothes, before i could once more become a respectable looking german prisoner. i also was patiently awaiting the announcement of my penalty. it was my first attempt and i expected almost anything from shooting to hanging.
