“Freedom” and …“Females”, sir,’ one of his subordinates leaned over to advise him.
‘Forget the females. I’d sell my mother for a tin of corned beef,’ a voice volunteered from out of the shadows to general approval.
‘Tell me, Hencke,’ the commander continued. ‘I share your frustration. But what on earth can we do? This is a prison camp, for God’s sake.’
Hencke delayed his reply, giving them time to silence their shuffling, giving him command of the stage. When he resumed his tone was once again harsh. ‘What can we do? Why, we can roll over and let the guards kick us whenever they feel bored. We can continue to scrabble around in the mud for the scraps of food they choose to throw at us, hoping they’ll get so tired of all this that one day they will simply throw open the gates and let us struggle back home. “One day. Some day. Never”,’ he mimicked the words of a song of lost love popular in Germany. ‘In the meantime what are we left with? “Wag your tail” – “Lick my boots” – “Sit up and beg” – “Bend over” .’ He was moving around the circle, inviting contradiction as he threw the guards’ taunts at them. None came. ‘Or we can remind our captors that we are still German soldiers, that simply because they wish to treat us like dogs there’s no need for us to act like dogs. Show them that we’re not garbage, that we’re not here just for them to piss on whenever they feel like a bit of fun. OK, they may have captured us, but for God’s sake don’t allow them to crush us. Let’s show that we’re still men!’
‘How? In Heaven’s name, how can we resist in here?’ The commander’s voice was plaintive as heswung his cane around to indicate the barbed wire surrounding them.
‘Not in here, sir. Out there.’
‘What? You mean …’
‘Escape.’
‘But that’s preposterous, Hencke. No German has managed to escape from Britain back to Germany through the course of this entire war. Not a single one! And you are willing to risk your life gambling against odds like that?’
‘It’s better than staying here to have a finger shoved up my ass. Sir.’
‘I cannot allow you to escape, Hencke. It would be folly.’
‘I’m not suggesting that I escape, sir. I’m suggesting we all do.’
His words hit the assembly like ice water, and the men began to shake themselves as if to get rid of an unwelcome drenching.
‘Think about it, just for a second,’ Hencke continued, anxious not to lose their attention as he resumed his walk, cat-like, around the circle. ‘It’s because no one’s ever escaped that it makes such sense. The guards are pig-lazy and idle, the last thing they expect is trouble. And if we all get out, the confusion will be huge, there’ll be a far greater chance of at least one of us making it back.’
‘It’s worth a shot,’ someone prompted.
‘That’s all you’re likely to get – shot!’ retorted the commander, wiping spittle from his lips. He had seen so much unnecessary death, his conscience couldn’t take responsibility for permitting still more.
‘Sir, when did you ever hear of a German POW being shot after trying to escape? These British aresticklers for the rules. Twenty-eight days’ solitary is the maximum they’re allowed to throw at us.’
‘Yes, but these Canadians don’t play by the rule book …’
‘This is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for to get our own back. What the hell are the Canadians going to do if they lose an entire campful of prisoners? More to the point, what are the British going to do to the Canadians? It’s our chance to get our own back, to catch them with their trousers down!’
‘Oh, yes. It’d screw the verdammten Canadians rigid,’ a prisoner applauded. ‘I’d just like to see Pilsudski’s face the morning after. I’d risk anything for that.’
‘But what purpose would it achieve?’ the commander began, lacking the strength to join in the enthusiasm that was
‘Forget the females. I’d sell my mother for a tin of corned beef,’ a voice volunteered from out of the shadows to general approval.
‘Tell me, Hencke,’ the commander continued. ‘I share your frustration. But what on earth can we do? This is a prison camp, for God’s sake.’
Hencke delayed his reply, giving them time to silence their shuffling, giving him command of the stage. When he resumed his tone was once again harsh. ‘What can we do? Why, we can roll over and let the guards kick us whenever they feel bored. We can continue to scrabble around in the mud for the scraps of food they choose to throw at us, hoping they’ll get so tired of all this that one day they will simply throw open the gates and let us struggle back home. “One day. Some day. Never”,’ he mimicked the words of a song of lost love popular in Germany. ‘In the meantime what are we left with? “Wag your tail” – “Lick my boots” – “Sit up and beg” – “Bend over” .’ He was moving around the circle, inviting contradiction as he threw the guards’ taunts at them. None came. ‘Or we can remind our captors that we are still German soldiers, that simply because they wish to treat us like dogs there’s no need for us to act like dogs. Show them that we’re not garbage, that we’re not here just for them to piss on whenever they feel like a bit of fun. OK, they may have captured us, but for God’s sake don’t allow them to crush us. Let’s show that we’re still men!’
‘How? In Heaven’s name, how can we resist in here?’ The commander’s voice was plaintive as heswung his cane around to indicate the barbed wire surrounding them.
‘Not in here, sir. Out there.’
‘What? You mean …’
‘Escape.’
‘But that’s preposterous, Hencke. No German has managed to escape from Britain back to Germany through the course of this entire war. Not a single one! And you are willing to risk your life gambling against odds like that?’
‘It’s better than staying here to have a finger shoved up my ass. Sir.’
‘I cannot allow you to escape, Hencke. It would be folly.’
‘I’m not suggesting that I escape, sir. I’m suggesting we all do.’
His words hit the assembly like ice water, and the men began to shake themselves as if to get rid of an unwelcome drenching.
‘Think about it, just for a second,’ Hencke continued, anxious not to lose their attention as he resumed his walk, cat-like, around the circle. ‘It’s because no one’s ever escaped that it makes such sense. The guards are pig-lazy and idle, the last thing they expect is trouble. And if we all get out, the confusion will be huge, there’ll be a far greater chance of at least one of us making it back.’
‘It’s worth a shot,’ someone prompted.
‘That’s all you’re likely to get – shot!’ retorted the commander, wiping spittle from his lips. He had seen so much unnecessary death, his conscience couldn’t take responsibility for permitting still more.
‘Sir, when did you ever hear of a German POW being shot after trying to escape? These British aresticklers for the rules. Twenty-eight days’ solitary is the maximum they’re allowed to throw at us.’
‘Yes, but these Canadians don’t play by the rule book …’
‘This is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for to get our own back. What the hell are the Canadians going to do if they lose an entire campful of prisoners? More to the point, what are the British going to do to the Canadians? It’s our chance to get our own back, to catch them with their trousers down!’
‘Oh, yes. It’d screw the verdammten Canadians rigid,’ a prisoner applauded. ‘I’d just like to see Pilsudski’s face the morning after. I’d risk anything for that.’
‘But what purpose would it achieve?’ the commander began, lacking the strength to join in the enthusiasm that was
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