A GREAT ADVENTURE.

Hokitika Guardian, 27 February 1917, Page 4

A GREAT ADVENTURE.

Prisoner of War.

French Officer’s Escape From Germany.

Mr LBon Papqual, member of the French Chamber, relates in the “Matin ” the marv6lljua escape from a German fortress of his friend and comrade, Captain Wabarte, attached to the St Cyr' Institution. He prefaces his sensational narrative with an aocoant of the captain’s arrival at the oamp of Torgau, where the Bracken'kopf fortress is situated. Late in February, 1915, he says, the British, Russian, Belgian, and F. each officers incarcerated in the Brnckenkopf stronghold greeted a newcomer (the captain), who was taken prisoner at the Charleroi battle. He had effected his escape from the Zoniara fortrese, in whioh he was confined, olimbing over two walls, each seven metres high ; but, after three nights’ wanderings, he was recaptured by a patrol, who handcuffed him, as though he were a criminal. After a month pass.d in solitary confinement, he was sent on, guarded by four armed German soldiers, to Torgan. The oaptam, remarks his Parliamentary friend, “found himself in excellent company. At the table assigned him there were three barristers, a military contributor to the ‘Temps,’ the manager of the Alhambra at Brussels, and several French officers. They all told him it was madness to dream of escaping from Brnckenkopf, but he deolared, at an opportune moment, he meant to make an attempt to reoover liberty.’’ Thß citadel, it is stated, was guarded by a double line of armed sentinels. Then there was the talus, on which under penalty of death it was prohibited to set foot; a huge ditch, eight metres wide, filled with water ; a quantity of barbed wire fences, etc. Moreover, the place was brilliantly lighted at night by a mass of powerful electric burneis, and guardians, accompanied by police dogs, made their hourly rounds. “When Captain Wabarte spoke of escaping,’’ says the deputy, “everyone considered him to be a monomaniac,’’ However, on the 17th of last a bright starlit night, “the captain, with eleven Russian officers, six British officers and a French lieutenant, were outßido the fortress and at a few metres distance. By what miracle ? I cannot divulge it, because even at Torgau French journals are read and it would be most imprudent to give particulars concerning this nocturnal adventure, which had required eight mouths of methodical preparation to render it successful."

Captain Wabarte’s companions were all recaptured because they committed the blunder of remaining together instead of each one going separately his wuy. He parted from them, giving them a rendezvous in Holland, and started resolutely to do the 700 kilometres which weie between him and the Dutch frontier, He had not a single penny in his pocket and only provisions for a fortnight. CROSSING THE’ ELBE. He had only gone a few kilometres, guided by his compass, when he was confronted by the Elbe, twice as wide as the Seine at this spot, Darkness hindered him from perceiving the opposite side of the river, but without a moment’s hesitation be plunged into the water, and, being an excellent swimmer, in spite of a strong current) he succeeded in reaching the opposite bank. Drenched and harassed, he con. tinned his march onwards. Carefully avoiding towns or villages, he went through plains, crossed the Hartz mountains, waded through marshes. He had become quite incapable of reckoning how many nights he bad walked when one evening he found himself obliged to go through a village at the moment when the troops were marching paßt to return to barracks. His emotion can be conceived, and, to make matters worse, he was forced that eventful evening to swim the

gaale. The hour was sunset, and (says the Deputy) Captain Wabarte, when relating his adventures to me, stopped a moment to exclaim, “ I saw that evening one of the most beautiful sunsets I ever beheld in all my life.’’ From the time of starting, the fugitive knew it would take him from 30 to 40 days to reach the frontier. He calculated rightly. Hie terrible journey lasted 32 days. Naturally his small amount of provisions was quickly exhausted, and he had to sustain himself with turnips, beetroots, raw potatoes and corn, which he crushed between stones and mixed water rendered .drinkable by a rough sort of filter of his own iuventioc. Towards the 28. h day of his wearisome journey he halted in tho vicinity of a populous looality, completely worn out emacited and starving. Concealed in a wood, he wai'ed nightfall. A couple of French soldiers, war prisoners, passed near him, “Francais,” he moaned. Oae of the soldiers came up to him, saying : “ You are chilled ; you are worn out,” and without another word he removed his flannel ■hirt, handed it to the captain promising food would be brought to him on the following day. The incident was pathetio, and with profound emotion the prisoners wished him a safe arrival in Holland. He reached the frontier after several alarms, in a lamentable condition his legs swoollen, his whole body covered with sores, and needless to say, he met with the kindest treatment at the hands of the Dutab. Well cared for, well nursed, the oaptain came on to Paris on a visit to his mother. He can hardly realise the faot that he bad walked 700 kilometres amidst countless perils and cruel sufferings. He will return to the front shortly, and hopes never more to fall into German hands as prisoner of war.