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    [Illustration: "WITH HIS BUNDLE SAFELY ON HIS HEAD HE TOOK TO THE
    WATER" (_page 205_).]




  13 DAYS

  THE CHRONICLE OF AN ESCAPE
  FROM A GERMAN PRISON

  BY

  CAPTAIN J.A.L. CAUNTER

  1ST BN. THE GLOUCESTERSHIRE REGIMENT

  ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR

  [Illustration]

  LONDON
  G. BELL AND SONS, LTD.
  1918




CONTENTS


                                                             PAGE

  INTRODUCTION                                                vii


  PART I

  CHAPTER

     I. CREFELD                                                 1

    II. THE MOVE TO SCHWARMSTEDT                               45

   III. SCHWARMSTEDT CAMP                                      65


  PART II

    IV. MY ESCAPE FROM THE CAMP                                87

     V. CROSSING THE FIRST TWO RIVERS                         108

    VI. I MEET FOX AND BLANK                                  125

   VII. THE CROSSING OF THE WESER                             134

  VIII. THE RAILWAY TRACK                                     155

    IX. CROSSING THE RIVER HUNTE, AND THE TOWN OF "DOGS"      164

     X. EXIT BLANK. SHEDS                                     175

    XI. TWO DAYS OF THE EMS                                   184

   XII. THE CROSSING OF THE RIVER                             198

  XIII. ACROSS THE FRONTIER                                   209

   XIV. CONCLUSION                                            222




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


                                                      FACING PAGE

  "With his bundle safely on his head he took to
    the water"                                            _Title_

  Fancy Portrait of "The Crab"                                 16

  Section of a German Camp                                     96

  "At last the two Women got up"                              112

  "Face to face with a Flapper on her way to bathe"           128

  "Every dark corner seemed to contain a dog"                 160

  "Fox led them over the worst pieces of boggy
  ground he could find"                                       192

  "The German Relief passed within 200 yards of my
    hiding place"                                             208




INTRODUCTION


On placing before the public this account of my escape from Germany
and some episodes from my life in two prison camps, I feel that I must
make clear that it was only due to the fact that I had two definite
supplementary objects to attain, that I succeeded in making myself
launch out in the following pages.

The first of these objects is to add my quota to the information
before the public relating to the treatment and existence of those
who, in prisons in Germany, have suffered and are suffering for their
country.

My second object is to try to throw a little light on the marvellous
spirit of the prisoners as a whole.

Think what it means to be shut up for years under such conditions.

Let me quote the prisoner poet, Lieut. Harvey, who, in
_Gloucestershire Friends_, vividly describes what prison means in the
following lines:

    Laugh, oh laugh loud, all ye who long ago
    Adventure found in gallant company!
    Safe in stagnation; laugh, laugh bitterly,
    While on this filthiest backwater of time's flow,
    Drift we and rot till something set us free!

It is always a fight against this sort of thing that the prisoner of
war is waging. Some apparently find such a fight difficult, but the
majority do somehow keep a hold on themselves and retain their energy
and hopefulness.

"Barbed-wire" disease is now officially recognised, and internment in
neutral countries of those who have done the longest spells in prison
is the outcome of this.

It will readily be conceded that those who keep cheerful throughout
their cruel trials display wonderful moral courage. But what about
another class of prisoner? The prisoner who tries to escape--is
caught--does three months cells--is released--tries to escape
again--meets the same fate--and does another stretch of perhaps six
months this time--but only goes on trying.

There are some who have spent two and a half years out of three in
Germany in cells for attempts to escape. There are many who have made
six or seven attempts. I, who only had one determined attempt and
succeeded, am able to say it: "These men are of the salt of the
earth."

I have heard some chicken-hearted persons who say that nobody ought to
try to escape because it might make it worse for those left behind.
There is only one answer to that sort of person.

However, it is not a fact that others get punished for the escape of
individuals, although it was true on two occasions in 1914; so the
question hardly arises.

Very few people in this country seem to realise that the German, being
a bully, has the characteristics of a bully. If a strong attitude is
taken with him he immediately gives way. Collectively and individually
they cannot understand any argument but Force, whether it takes the
form of a reprisal or a great attack at the front.


GERMANY

Since my return to England I have often been asked what do the Germans
think of the war now and are they hard up for food, etc.

The Germans I talked to were thoroughly fed-up with the war and only
wanted peace. This does not mean that they will break out into
Revolution. That to my mind cannot come about until the military
defeat of Germany is a fact. The Kaiser, not too popular nowadays,
would immediately regain his former position in the minds of his
subjects could he but secure a peace even partially favourable to the
German people. The rulers of Germany know that defeat, or anything
like it, would be fatal for them; that is why they will stick at
nothing and spare no spilling of blood until they have either won or
lost irretrievably. What would a patched-up peace mean? It would mean
that Germany would begin building submarines by the hundred for use
against us within ten years' time. It would mean just an armistice for
a few years and then a renewal of the conflict without Russia and
probably many of our other exhausted allies.

The Germans with whom I spoke knew this and looked at the future with
open eyes.

I wonder if it is realised how much the British are hated by the
Germans? Their hate of us is "Kolossal," to use their own expressive
word. Somebody in Germany said that should the Germans ever get into
England they would make "Belgium appear like a Garden of Eden in
comparison with what England would look like after they had done with
her."

It is a German boast that the war has never touched the sacred soil of
the Fatherland. The few occasions on which our aeroplanes bombed
German towns during my stay there, gave me an excellent opportunity of
judging how sensitive they are to this particular form of punishment.
The bombing of Karlsruhe and Freiburg caused a scream throughout the
west of Germany. I heard the echo of it in the canteen at Crefeld.

When I suggested that London had also been bombed and innocent lives
lost, they simply said that that was different. Thus in their minds
there are two kinds of law, one for England, the other for Germany. I
was very pleased to notice how much less was the effect of air-raids
on our civilian population than on the Germans. There is no doubt
whatever that the fear of air bombardments is much stronger in Germany
than over here.

There is only one way of touching the German mind and that is by the
employment of FORCE, Brute Force. It is what he believes in as the
medicine for his enemies, simply because he judges others by himself,
and knows that he respects that and that only, and therefore applies it
whenever possible to others.

It is a pity that our public does not know more of the German
mentality. It is a knowledge of this factor that should assist one in
having a correct view of things and in understanding German
aspirations and methods.

A word about food and supplies generally.

The Germans are extremely hard-up for food. In the Spring of 1917,
meat was practically unobtainable. The bread was disgusting and
scarce.

Potatoes had to be procured by standing in queues for hours. (This as
a matter of fact has been the rule for the last year and a half.)

Mangel-wurzels, swedes, black peas, and turnips form the greater part
of the food.

The town of Crefeld in February, 1917, was like a place of the dead,
absolutely deserted except at the hour when the workers went home. The
shops have practically nothing to sell in their windows. To get a
shirt or a towel or any such article, a permit had to be got from the
