At the end of February we were surprised by a visit from two representatives of the American Embassy, to whom we poured forth our woes, and who declared their views pretty strongly as to the conditions in which they found us. The assault by the commandant on a defenceless French officer was fully narrated to them, also the fact that officers had been fired on inside the fortress whilst lying out in the earthworks. The American representatives made every effort with the commandant to procure more coal for heating our cells, also greater space for exercise, asking permission for us to again use the interior exercise-grounds X and Y, periodically closed to us as a general strafe, and permanently closed to us after the attempted escape of the British officers over the frozen moat.

Strangely enough, we were allowed to see the commission alone, but after our interview they proceeded to the commandant, who took them across to the so-called theatre or music-room, where doubtless the commandant went into raptures over the beauties and utilities of the theatre, forgetting to explain that we were not allowed into it and that the door was kept locked, so that possibly the commission went away with the feeling that after all the Boches were trying to make up for the awful conditions existent in the fortress by giving us the use of an improvised theatre.

The amount of eyewash prepared in camps for a visit of any sort, either neutral or Boche, was extremely humorous to me. A camp would get busy like a hive for a couple of days before the visit, sweeping and cleaning in every corner, so that general conditions would improve for a day or two, and immediately after the visits they would lapse back into the old conditions of filth.

During the last few months an escaping scheme on a large scale had been under way from a cell quite close to my own. After many months of terrific manual labour a tunnel running from beneath the floor of the cell to the edge of the moat had been brought to successful completion. On the day of the night chosen for the attempt the never-ending bad luck of the escapers again ruined all these carefully laid plans. A large sewage-cart containing an enormous iron cylinder visited the camp for the purpose of pumping out the latrines. In order to reach these latrines the sewage-cart had to pass over the strip of ground dividing the cells of the fortress from the moat, and in so doing passed over the underground tunnel, which at this place was not more than three feet beneath the surface of the earth; and although the tunnel had been strengthened with every possible kind of wood torn from every hole and corner inside the fortress, the weight of the cart was too much for it, and a deep rut showed in the ground after the cart had passed. This might have escaped the eye of the sentry on beat at this place, had not the cart passed over exactly the same spot on its return journey, thus causing a depression, which rapidly sank to about a foot deep. The sentry did not fail to see it, and the fact was reported to the quarter guard, whose investigation with picks and shovels soon revealed the truth, so that another accidental discovery was added to the list. When we found that no attempt had been made to drain the latrines for over two years, the extraordinary bad luck became a hundred times more exasperating to bear.

At the end of March I was suddenly called up to interview General Peter, the commandant of the military district of Ingolstadt. He addressed me very civilly, which was not his wont, and told me that I, along with two other British officers, was going to be removed to the best camp in Germany, owing to our exemplary behaviour and gentlemanly conduct. I saluted and departed to inform my comrades in my cell, where laughter overcame me. My exemplary behaviour! when everybody in the fortress knew that I had been described by the commandant as one of the most “dangerous characters” in the camp. Of course my mind instantly sought for the reason which had caused the Boches to decide on sending me away, and it was not long before I discovered it. I immediately consulted my French pal, and the two of us put our heads together and paid a visit to the commandant, but found no clue there. We then proceeded to the so-called Krankenstube (or sick-room). Seeing a lot of new medicines, I asked the orderly who they were for. He replied that the Swiss Commission was paying us a visit in a few days. The reasons of my removal to another and better camp were immediately explained. A great many inquiries had been made from home to the Swiss Commission regarding my case and the reason why I had not been sent to Switzerland on the last visit of the commission. The Boches, knowing this, had no intention that the commission should find me still an inmate of such a hell-hole as Fort 9, Ingolstadt.

On the morning of the 3rd of April, or two days after old General Peter had told me I was to be sent to a nice camp because I had been a “good boy,” orders to pack up my goods and chattels came from the commandant. My baggage had by this time grown to a very considerable bulk—my own spring-bed, folding camp-chair, box of food-stuffs, cooking utensils, blankets, clothing, etc. The luggage had to be in the packet-room by three o’clock, in order that it might undergo the usual searching process. Immediately it was generally known in the camp that we were leaving Ingolstadt on the morrow, and that our luggage was to be sent to the packet-room by three o’clock, I received dozens of applications from the ever-watchful prisoners for permission to try to sneak out in my baggage. Permission was given to the first two applicants, French and English majors, one of whom occupied cell 42 with me. Two large hamper washing-baskets were borrowed from some Russian and French officers. Into these the two escapers were pushed, with blankets and clothing on top of them, and a cunning arrangement by which the padlock could be slipped from the inside.

The two hampers, together with my boxes and those of the other two officers accompanying me, were carried by ourselves at the appointed time to the packet-room, where each officer opened his own boxes in front of the examining Boche N.C.O., who made a quick search of each box. In this case the two other officers had their luggage examined first; then came my turn. By this time he had grown a bit slack, and when he had gone through my three boxes he was still more so. The two baskets were left till the last. These were opened in their turn, and I began hauling out the top blankets. With a wave of the hand the N.C.O. said “Good,” and the hampers were passed, as had been calculated upon. After this the N.C.O. called in some French orderlies, and gave directions for our luggage to be heaped up in a corner by itself. Unfortunately they placed one of the basket-hampers on the top of the other, which proved in the end to be the undoing of the whole affair.

The luggage having been passed, the packet-room was closed for the night, and there seemed to be a very fair chance that the escapers might be successful in at least getting out of the fortress. At 5 p.m. the usual guard was mounted outside the packet-room door, and all went well till about 7 p.m., when the escapers in the baskets essayed to get out of these in order to relieve the agonies of cramp which had naturally overtaken them in their confined position. There was no reason at all why they should spend the night in the baskets, as the packet-room would not be opened till seven o’clock the following morning. Even if a chance visit should happen to be paid to the room, there was plenty of material to hide behind amongst the general debris of packets and bales which covered the floor. With this in view the officer in the upper basket tried to get out with the least possible noise. To raise the lid from the inside was easy, as before explained, but to get out noiselessly was quite another matter, since any movement in the basket above was registered by a loud creaking from the basket below, and before the two officers had succeeded in extricating themselves the suspicions of the sentry outside had been aroused, a search was instituted, and the plot discovered.

Returning to my own position, I now expected to receive a notification from the commandant that my removal to another camp was cancelled, owing to the fact that I had helped these two officers to escape in my luggage; but no such order was issued, which proved to me more strongly than ever that the authorities at Ingolstadt were most anxious to get rid of me for some very good reason, which I surmised was the expected visit of the Swiss Commission. Information now came through to us from one of the French orderlies that a party of officers, collected from all the other prison camps in and around Ingolstadt, was being sent to the camp at Crefeld on the following day. This information had been come by during a parley between the orderly and another French orderly, who had arrived at the fortress the preceding day from one of the camps which was being broken up. We felt pretty certain, therefore, that our destination would also be Crefeld, since we were all going on the same day; also, if old General Peter had spoken the truth, it must be Crefeld, as he had said it was the best camp in Germany.

That night we received orders to be ready to start at five o’clock the next morning, and I had much to do and certain arrangements to make with the friends I was about to leave behind me, in case I should succeed in making good my escape. For many months past I had wearied of Ingolstadt and its appalling conditions, but now that I had actually to move off on the morrow a certain sense of loss to come and a feeling of extreme depression overcame me at leaving these good fellows. The camp was bad—nothing could be worse; but, still, the idea was borne in upon me, “Better to bear the ills we have,” etc.; and God only knew what the future might have in store for me. One becomes extraordinarily attached to those of one’s fellow-beings with whom one has passed through great ordeals.

However, enough of the sentimental. Some of my pals were laying bets between themselves as to whether I should succeed in making my escape or not, and I’m sure those who lost did so with the greatest pleasure. At 4.30 the next morning the three of us were sent for by the commandant, and went through the usual search, which we all passed quite satisfactorily. All the same, a small corrugated iron spring, knife, bit of a screwdriver, compass, and electric torch escaped the watchful eyes of the Boches: I don’t propose to say how, as it only gives valuable information to the enemy.

At 5.30 a.m. we shook the dust of the fortress from our feet. As before explained, there were three of us, and we had to walk over eight kilometres to the station. We had been ordered to take everything necessary for three days in the shape of food, clothing, etc., so the kindly Boches gave us a couple of orderlies to carry our hand luggage. I suppose I should have been both surprised and grateful at having any help at all, but really it was only a case of half a loaf being better than no bread, since two orderlies could not possibly carry the amount of our hand luggage; consequently we had a very hot and tiring walk, carrying the baggage on our shoulders, our guards making no effort to help. However, we did eventually arrive at the station, perspiring freely, although it was freezing at the time. At the station we were surprised to see a large dray loaded with luggage that looked very English, which turned out to belong to a party of officers we discovered at the station. There were about twenty-five of them, as well as I can remember, consisting of a collection from all the camps in and around Ingolstadt.

Many inquiries were made when they found that we had just come from the notorious Fort No. 9. We learnt from these officers that we were bound for a camp called Crefeld, quite close to the Dutch frontier, and supposed to be the best camp in Germany. Satisfaction on going so near the frontier showed on many faces. About 7 a.m. our train arrived, and a second-class carriage was allotted to us by the German officer in charge of the party. Our guard consisted of this officer, who was a coarse bullet-headed Bavarian lieutenant, and about nine men, if I remember aright, all of them being fully armed and evidently warned to keep their eyes skinned. The Boche officer numbered us off and allotted so many officers to each compartment, together with one guard to each batch. When he came to us he said, “Oh yes, Fort 9; you will be in a compartment by yourselves,” and he told off three guards to watch us. This was not at all satisfactory, and looked very bad for our venture. However, there was no circumventing it, and the only thing was to accept the situation with the best grace possible and trust to our brains to outwit the three guards.

Towards 7.30 the train pulled out, at which I drew a breath of relief, feeling that Fort 9 at least was behind me, and in front enormous possibilities of escape. For the first time during two and a half years I was more or less fit; I was in a train travelling towards the northern frontier of Germany; every mile drew it and home nearer, and I had the delightful sensation that the German Government was about to be made to pay for at least a good part of my road towards home, travelling comfortably in a second-class railway compartment. That I was going to make good my escape from the train I was firmly convinced, although the circumstances of our disposition among the guards did not for the moment look very hopeful; but there was a sort of something in the air, excited quiverings running up and down my spine.

To carry out our project of ingratiating ourselves with our guards was a matter of immediate importance, since we could never tell how soon our chance might come. Accordingly we started by falling into amicable conversation with them, which was carried on with the aid of signs and a few words in broken French and German, only a very few German words being used, in order not to excite any suspicions that we could understand their conversation. In this manner we learnt one or two small points of interest: firstly, that we were not expected to arrive at our destination till the evening of the next day, also that the camp we were bound for was indeed Crefeld.

By about eight o’clock the ball started rolling in good earnest, when one of the guards suddenly said, “Der Kriegs nicht gut.” We agreed that war was hell and that we wanted to be back with our families in peace and with plenty to eat again, for there was “viel essen” in England; to which they replied, “Kein essen in Deutschland,” and we answered that the prisoner of war felt the want of food in Germany more than the German soldiers did, but that we received plenty from home, so we did very well, at which I opened my suit-case and displayed to the greedy eyes of the Huns a whole lot of tinned meats of various kinds. This was a fine opportunity to cement our friendship, so we started to prepare a good sound breakfast of tongue and chicken, in which we succeeded in getting them to join us; they offered us a share of hot coffee from their water-bottles, and we all fairly settled down to it. Alas! with what pain I saw my limited food slipping down the Hun throats; but it was our best policy, and I must say that succeeding events justified us in giving them a decent meal. Two of the guards were now sufficiently at their ease to surrender to comfort, unfastening their belts and putting their rifles on the racks; the third, however, kept his rifle handy, but I do not think with any idea that it might be necessary. After breakfast we all had a little snooze—at least we pretended to. Two of the Boches certainly dropped off for a little while.

About midday we arrived at a station, where the carriages were shunted, during which time we were allowed to stretch our legs on the platform and get some hot coffee from a stall which was not too awfully bad. Whilst we were bartering for the coffee a train pulled up at another platform, bringing in a quantity of newspapers for the day, over which there seemed to be a general hubbub of excitement; a few were brought to our platform, and we tried to bag one surreptitiously without success, but not before the headlines of the paper had been read by one or two of us. The news caused just as much excitement amongst ourselves as it had amongst the Boches, being no less than the official declaration of war by the United States. In ordinary times this would have given us a topic of conversation for months, but for the present we had other fish to fry, and we soon forgot all about it; at the same time we all felt excessively elated by the downcast, morose aspect of the Boche civilians at the railway station.