104
BY G. H. JOHNSON.
Captured March 21 st, 1918, at Quéant. Preparing to leave the Forest of Raismes.
OCTOBER I2Th was to test our powers of endurance to the utmost. Badly
shod and in poor condition, we set off towards Germany in the retreat, the
only bright outlook being the thought of getting extra food on the way.
The sentry assigned to us was called Gramophone, whose incessant three-word
order to keep in fours droned in our ears. With the wagons carrying rations,
guards' equipment and the sick, the column, while on the move, stretched over
a mile.
The first town passed was Valenciennes. The civilians, having had the order
to quit, gave us spare food and clothing. Marching in fours, it was mutually
agreed (without the guard's assent) that the two outside men should grab any
food available and hand it to the inside ones to carry. In this way, by nightfall,
we had accumulated potatoes, French bread, a marrow and a bag of beans. Of
course, all this was not obtained without some rasping comments on the part of
Gramophone for breaking the ranks, and he would trip up a returning prisoner,
the poor fellow crashing down on his pots and pans with the breath completely
knocked out of him. We had a short rest about every one and a half hours, feeling
that we could sit there for ever, but it was "Raus, Raus, marsch," and we dragged
on again.
Passing through Condé, we went over the Mons Canal into Belgian territory.
Just outside Condé, the guards helped themselves to some cows and made them
trudge along with us. Whenever a turnip field came in sight the column divided
into it each side, and, still keeping on, rejoined on the road again, but more heavily
laden. Towards night the marching became agony, and at every rest my feet
throbbed to such an extent that the very thought of restarting was indescribable.
At the last halt but one we lay down in the road, trying to ease ourselves, but
there was another hour's torture before we finally stopped at Blaton. The
distance covered was about sixteen miles. We were put into a field without any
covering. It was intensely cold, with a misty rain falling, and we were unable to
cook for lack of fuel. Some watery soup and coffee were issued.
There were two kinds of prisoners the next morning, those who had taken
their boots off and those who hadn't. I don't know which faces wore the most
painful expression. After a shaky start, we managed to push on. People who
had not seen English soldiers since 1914 rushed to meet us, shouting, La guerre
fini?" Anglais?" We did eight miles that day, and put into a farm-yard near
Mons. When it was getting dark someone came with the news of a potato store
near by. This was soon raided, and with a cooked meal in sight we spent a better
night on the straw of a cowshed.
Before we started the next day, more sick, who had collapsed through the
strain of walking, were collected and put in the wagons. The third day's march we
skirted Mons, halted at Masney St. Pierre, and were put into a disused glass
factory. This was the vilest place I was in during captivity. The floors were
filthy, and the stench from them terrible. The only coverings to the windows
were iron bars through which the wind and rain whistled. Fever broke out again,
and resulted in more casualties.
