ILLUSTRATIONS

Private Simmons
From a photograph taken since his return to Canada
officer’s quarters in A German military prison
Giessen prison-camp
Ted Bromley, in red cross overcoat with prison
number and marked sleeve
German prison Stamp
These stamps are used to pay prisoners for their work and
to be exchanged for any money they may have when captured
two pages from private Simmons’s diary
map made by private Simmons of the first attempt
the Christmas card which the Giessen prison authorities
supplied to the prisoners
map made from paper which came in A parcel, wrapped around
A fruit-cake
Friedrichsfeld prison-camp in winter
map which private Simmons got from the Canadian artist at
Giessen, showing routes of second and third attempts
Friedrichsfeld prison-camp in summer
A prison post-card from Friedrichsfeld bei Wesel, showing
cosmopolitan group of prisoners
post-card sent by private Bromley from the prison-camp of
Soltau, showing graves of prisoners

THREE TIMES AND OUT

CHAPTER I

HOW IT STARTED

“England has declared war on Germany!”

We were working on a pumphouse, on the Columbia River, at Trail, British Columbia, when these words were shouted at us from the door by the boss carpenter, who had come down from the smelter to tell us that the news had just come over the wire.

Every one stopped work, and for a full minute not a word was spoken.  Then Hill, a British reservist who was my work-mate, laid down his hammer and put on his coat.  There was neither haste nor excitement in his movements, but a settled conviction that gave me a queer feeling.  I began to argue just where we had left off, for the prospect of war had been threshed out for the last two days with great thoroughness.  “It will be settled,” I said.  “Nations cannot go to war now.  It would be suicide, with all the modern methods of destruction.  It will be settled by a war council—­and all forgotten in a month.”

Hill, who had argued so well a few minutes ago and told us all the reasons he had for expecting war with Germany, would not waste a word on me now.  England was at war—­and he was part of England’s war machine.

“I am quitting, George,” he said to the boss carpenter, as he pulled his cap down on his head and started up the bank.

That night he began to drill us in the skating-rink.

I worked on for about a week, but from the first I determined to go if any one went from Canada.  I don’t suppose it was all patriotism.  Part of it was the love of adventure, and a desire to see the world; for though I was a steady-going carpenter chap, I had many dreams as I worked with hammer and saw, and one of them was that I would travel far and see how people lived in other countries.