Ges &£ (Concluded from last week.) SYNOPSIS. CHAPTER I-Introductory. Pat O'Brien tells of his purpose in writing the story of his adventures. CHAPTER II—Tells of his enlistment in the Royal Flying corps, his training in Canada and his transfer to France for ac- tive duty. I was still musing over this melan- choly phase of the scout’s life when an orderly told me there was a beauti- ful battle going on in the air, and he volunteered to help me outside the hospital that I might witness it, and 1 readily accepted his assistance. That afternoon I saw one of the gamest fights I ever expect to witness. There were six of our machines against perhaps sixteen Huns. From the type of the Britsh machines I knew that they might possibly be from my own aerodrome. Two of our machines had been apparently picked out by six of the Huns and were bearing the brunt of the fight. The contest seemed to me to be so unequal that victory for / ; IB YVEFTOBI... / Packed in Trunk. Shirt. Vests. Prs. Pants. Towels. Pr. Shorts. Pr. Puttees Belt. Vozriress Tunic. Cane. OV 1 HD) 1 0 0 2 BB HH RD = HO 2 D0 BT Blankets. Commanding No. 56 Squadron, Royal Flying Corps. ret Photograph of Official Memorandum, Belongings of Lieutenant O’Brien, tenant Raney When (Brien Was our men was hardly to be thought of, and yet at one time they so completely sutmaneuvered the Huns that I thought their superior skill might save the day for them, despite the fact that they were so hopelessly outnumbered. One thing I was sure of: they would never give in. Of course, it would have been a com- paratively simple matter for our men, when they saw how things were going against them, to have turned their noses down, landed behind the Ger- man lines and given themselves up as’ prisoners, but that is not the way of the R. F. C. A battle of this kind seldom lasts many minutes, although every second seems like an hour to those who par- ticipate in it, and even onlookers suf- ger more thrills in the course of the struggle than they would ordinarily experience in a lifetime. It is appar- ent even to a novice that the loser’s fate is death. Of course, the Germans around the hospital were all watching and rooting for their comrades, but the English, too, had one sympathizer in that group who made no effort to stifle his admira- tion for the bravery his countrymen were displaying. The end came suddenly. Four ma- chines crashed to earth almost simul- taneously. It was an even break—two of theirs and two of ours. The others apparently returned to their respective lines. The wound in my mouth made it im- possible for me to speak, but by means of a pencil and paper I requested one of the German officers to find out for me who the English officers were who had been shot down. A little later he returned and handed me a photograph taken from the body of one of the victims. It was a picture of Paul Raney of Toronto, and myself, taken together! Poor Raney! He was the best friend I had and one of the LIELTENANT 7 OAT DBRIEN: ©, 98, by FAT ALA OBRIEN OLTWITTING ALN best and gamest men who ever fought in France. It was he, I learned long after, who, when I was reported missing, had checked over all my belongings and sent them back to England with a signed memorandum—which is now in my possession. Poor fellow, he little realized then that but a day or two later he would be engaged in his last heroic battle with me a helpless on- looker! The same German officer who brought me the photograph also drew a map for me of the exact spot where Raney was buried in Flanders. I guarded it carefully all through my subsequent adventures and finally turned it over to his father and mother when I visited them in Toronto to per- form the hardest and saddest duty X have ever been called upon to execute —to confirm to them in person the tidings of poor Paul's death. The other British pilot who fell was also from my squadron and a man I PX No. 66 Squadron, Royal Flying Corps. 3/Licut. A.0'Brien, R.F.G. (slR.) Reported missing 17-8-17 guits Pyjamas. Prs. Combinations. Night Shirt. Pra. Breeches. Pr. Trousers. Strap. suit civilian clothes. American Tunic. Pr. Ankle Boots. British Warm Coat. Pr. Goggles. Sam Brpwne Belt. Box Dentrifice. So ory 3/Lieut. R.F.Ce plas, Jos, 7 == -— = = a. knew well—Licutenant Keith of Aus- A EIT S————— ft = Giving an Inventory of the Personal Which Were Turned Over to Lieu- Reported Missing on August 17, 1917. tralia. I had given him a picture of myself only a few hours before I start- ed on my own disastrous flight. He was one of the star pilots of our squad- ron and had been in many a desperate battle before, but this time the odds were too great for him. He put up a wonderful fight and he gave as much as he took. The next two days passed without incident and I was then taken to the intelligence department of the German flying corps, which was located about an hour from the hospital. There I was kept two days, during which time they put a thousand and one questions to me. While I was there I turned over to them the message I had written in the hospital and asked them to have one of their flyers drop it on our side of the line. : They asked me where I would like to have it dropped, thinking perhaps I would give my airdrome away, but when I smiled and shook my head, they did rot insist upon an answer. “I'll drop it over ——,” declared one of them, naming my airdrome. which revealed to me that their flying corps is as efficient as other branches of the service in the matter of obtaining valu- gble information. And right here I want to say that the more I came to know of the enemy, the more keenly I realized what a difficult task we're going to have to lick him. In all my subsequent experiences, the fact that there is a heap of fight left in the Huns still was thoreughly brought home to me. We shall win the war eventually, if we don’t slow up too soon, in the mistaken idea that the Huns are ready to lie down. The flying officers who questioned me were extremely anxious to find out all they could about the part America is going to play in the war, but they evidently came to the conclusion that America hadn't taken me very deeply into her confidence, judging from the \ Facsimile of the Check Given to Lieutenant O’Brien as a Joke by Lieutenant Dickson When They Were Fellow Prisoners at (ourtrai. {nformation they got, or failed to get, from me. At any rate, they gave me up as a bad job, and I was ordered to the offi- cers’ prison at Courtrai, Belgium. CHAPTER V. The Prison Camp at Courtral. From the intelligence department I was conveyed to the officers’ prison camp at Courtrai in an automobile. It was about an hour’s ride. My escort was one of the most famous flyers in the world, barring none. He was later killed in action, but I was told by an English airman who witnessed his last in which I was a prisoner. combat, that he fought a game battle i find particular satisfaction in flying and died a hero’s death. The prison, which had evidently : been a civil prison of seme kind before the war, was located right in the heart | The first building we ap- proached was large and in front of the archway, which formed the main ontrance, was a sentry box. Here we were challenged by the sentry, who knocked on the door; the guard turned of Courtrai. the key in the lock and I was admit- ted. We passed through the archway and directly into a courtyard, on which faced all of the prison buildings, the windows, of course, being heavily barred. After I had given my pedigree —my name, age, address, etc.—I was shown to a cell with bars on ‘the win- dows overlooking this courtyard. I was promptly told that at night we were to occupy these rooms, but I had already surveyed the surroundings, taken account of the number of guards and the locked door outside, and con- cluded that my chances of getting away from some other place could be no worse than in that particular cell. As I had no hat, my helmet being the only thing I had worn over the lines, I was compelled either to go bare- headed or wear the red cap of the Bavarian whom I had shot down on that memorable day. It can be im- agined how I looked attired in a Brit- ish uniform and a bright red cap. Wherever I was taken my outfit aroused considerable curiosity among the Belgians and German soldiers. When I arrived at prison that day I still wore this cap, and as I was taken into the courtyard, my overcoat cover- ing my uniform, all that the British officers, who happened to be sunning themselves in the courtyard, could see was the red cap. They afterwards told me they wondered who the “bug Hun” was with the bandage on his mouth. This cap I managed to keep with me, but was never allowed to wear it on the walks we took. I either went bare- headed or borrowed a cap from some other prisoner. At certain hours each day the pris- oners were allowed to mingle in the courtyard, and on the first occasion of this kind I found that there were 11 officers imprisoned there besides my- self. They had here interpreters who could speak all languages. One of them was a mere boy who had been born in Jersey City, N. J., and had spent all his life in America until the beginning of 1914. Then he moved with his folks to Germany, and when he became of military age the Huns forced him into the army. I think if ! the truth were known he would much rather have been fighting for America than against her. I found that most of the prisoners remained at Courtrai only two or three days. From there they were in- variably taken to prisons in the inte- rior of Germany. Whether it was because I was an American or because I was a flyer, I don’t know, but this rule was not fol- lowed in my case. I remained there two weeks. During this period Courtrai was con- stantly bombed, by our airmen. Not a single day or night passed without one or more air raids. In the two weeks I was there I counted 21 of them. The town suffered a great deal of damage. Evidently our people were aware that the Germans had a lot of troops con- centrated in this town and besides the headquarters staff was stationed there. The kaiser himself visited Courtrai while I was in the prison, I was told by one of the interpreters, but he didn’t call on me, and for obvious reasons I ~ouldn’t call on him. The courtyard was not a very popu- lar place during air raids. Several times when our airmen raided that section in the day time I went out and watched the machines and the shrap- nel bursting all around; but the Ger- mans did not crowd out there, for their own antiaircraft guns were hammer- ing away to keep our planes as high in the sky as possible, and shells were likely to fall in the prison yard any moment. Of course I watched these battles at my own risk. Many nights from my prison window I watched with peculiar interest the air raids carried on, and it was a wonderful sight with the German searchlights playing on the sky, the “flaming on- fons” fired high and the burst of the antiaircraft guns, but rather an un- comfortable sensation when I realized that perhaps the very next minute a : my special discomfort and bomb might be dropped on the building But per- haps all of this was better than no excitement at all, for prison life soon became very monotonous. One of the hardest things I had to endure throughout the two weeks I spent there was the sight of the Hue machines flying over Courtrai, know ing that perhaps I never would have another chance to fly, and I used to sit by the hour watching the German ma- chines maneuvering over the prison, as they had an airdrome not far away and every afternoon the students—or I took them for students because their flying was very poor—appeared over the town. One certain Hun seemed to right down over the prison nightly, for benefit, it seemed, as if he knew an airman im- prisoned there was vainly longing to try his wings again over their lines. But I used to console myself by say- ing: “Never mind, old boy, there was never a bird whose wings could not be clipped if they get him just right, and your turn will come some day.” One night there was an exception- ally heavy air raid going on. A num- ber of German officers came into my room, and they all seemed very much frightened. I jokingly remarked that it would be fine if our airmen hit the old prison—the percentage would be very satisfactory—one English officer and about ten German ones. They didn’t seem to appreciate the joke, however, and, indeed, they were ap- parently too much alarmed at what was going on overhead to laugh even at their own jokes. Although these night raids seem to take all the starch | out of the Germans while they are going on, the officers were usually as brave as lions the next day and spoke contemptuously of the raid of the night before. I saw thousands of soldiers in Cour- trai, and although they did not im- press me as having very good or abun- dant food, they were fairly well clothed. I do not mean to imply that conditions pointed to an early end of the war. On the contrary, from what I was able to observe on that point, unless the Huns have an absolute crop failure they can, in my opinion, go on for years! The idea of our being able to win the war by starving them out strikes me as ridiculous. This is a war that must be won by fighting, and the sooner we realize that fact the sooner it will be over. Rising hour in the prison was seven o'clock. Breakfast came at eight. This consisted of a cup of coffee and noth- ing else. If the prisoner had the fore- sight to save some bread from the pre- vious day, he had bread for breakfast also, but that never happened in my case. Sometimes we had two cups of coffee, that is, near-coffee. It was really chicory or some cereal prepara. tion. We had no milk or sugar. For lunch they gave us boiled sugar beets or some other vegetable, and once in a while some kind of pickled meat, but that happened very seldom. We also received a third of a loaf of pbread—war bread. This war bread was as heavy as a brick, black and sour. It was supposed to last us from noon one day to noon the next. Ex- cept for some soup, this was the whole lunch menu. Dinner came at 5:30 p. m., when we sometimes had a little jam made out of sugar beets, and a preparation called tea, which you had to shake vig- orously or it settled in the bottom of the cup, and then about all you had was hot water. This “tea” was a sad blow to the Englishmen. If it hadn’t been called tea they wouldn’t have felt so badly about it, perhaps, but it was adding insult to injury to call that stuff “tea,” which with them is almost a national institution. Sometimes with this meal they gave us butter instead of jam, and once in a while we had some kind of canned meat. This comprised the usual run of eat ables for the day—TI can eat more than that for breakfast! In the days, that were to come I learned that I was to fare considerably worse. We were allowed to send cut and buy a few things, but as most of the prisoners were without funds this was but an empty privilege. Once I took advantage of the privilege to send my shoes to a Belgian shoemaker to be half-soled. They charged me + 20 marks—$5! Once in a while a Belgian Ladies’ Relief society visited the prison and brought us handkerchiefs, American soap—which sells at about $160 a bar in Belgium—toothbrushes and other little articles, all of which were American made, but whether they were supplied by the American re- lief committee or not I don’t know. At any rate, these gifts were mighty useful and were very much appre- ciated. One day I offered a button off my uniform to one of these Belgian ladies as a souvenir, but a German guard saw me and 1 was never allowed to go near the visitors afterwards. The sanitary conditions in this prison camp were excellent as a gen- A | eral proposition. One night, however, 1 discovered that I had been cap- tured by “cooties.” This was a novel experience to me willing to have missed, because in joa one that I would have been very : the flying corps our airdromes are 8 | number of miles back of the lines anG ; we have good billets and our acquaint. | ance with such things as “cooties” and | other unwelcome visitors is very lim- ! ited. | When I discovered my condition, I ! made a holler and roused the guard, | and right then I got another example ' of German efficiency. | This guard seemed to be even more | perturbed about my complaint than I | myself, evidently fearing that he would | be blamed for my condition. { The commandant was summoned | and I could see that he was very an- | gry. Someone undoubtedly got a se- i vere reprimand for it. I was taken out of my cell by a . guard with a rifle and conducted about a quarter of a mile from the prison | to an old factory building which had been converted into an elaborate fumi- | gating plant. There I was given a | pickle bath in some kind of solution, 'and while I was absorbing it my | clothes, bed clothes and whatever else | had been in my cell was being put { through another fumigating process. While I was waiting for my things | to dry—it took perhaps half an Lhour— I had a chance to observe about one German soldiers who had become in- ‘ fested in the trenches. We were all nude, of course, but apparently it was | i not difficult for them to recognize me as a foreigner even without my uni- | form on, for nope of them made any attempt to talk to me, although they | were very busy talking about me. I { could not understand what they were | saying, but I knew I was the butt of 1 most of their jokes and they made no effort to conceal the fact that I was | the subject of conversation. When I got back to my cell I found that it had been thoroughly fumigated, | and from that time on I had no further | trouble with “cooties” or other visi- tors of the same kind. As we were not allowed to write anything but prison cards, writing was out of the question; and as we had no reading matter to speak of, reading was nil. We had nothing to do to pass away the time, so consequently cards becgsne our only diversion, for we did, fortunately, have some of these. There wasn’t very much money as a rule in circulation, and I think for once in my life I held most of that, not due to any particular ability on my part in the game, but I happened to have several hundred francs in my pockets when shot down. But we held a lot- tery that was watched, without quite such intense interest as that. The drawing was always held the day before +n 1earn who was the lucky man. There hundred other victims of “cooties”— | | : for him that his luck deserted him on the fourth day, for he probably would have been handled rather roughly by the rest of the crowd, who were grow- ing suspicious. But we handled the drawing ourselves and knew there was nothing crooked about it, so he was spared. We were allowed to buy pears, and being small and very hard, they were used as the stakes in many a game, But the interest in these little games was as keen as if the stakes had been piles of money instead of two or three half-starved pears. No man was ever so reckless, however, in all the betting as to wager his own rations. By the most scheming and sacrific- ing I ever did in my life I managed to hoard two pieces of bread (grudgingly spared at the time from my daily ra- tions), but I was preparing for the day when I should escape—if I ever should. It was not a sacrifice easily made either, but instead of eating bread I ate pears until I finally got one piece of bread ahead; and when I° could force myself to stick to the pear diet again, I saved the other piece from that day's allowance, and in days to come I had cause to credit myself fully for the foresight. Whenever a new prisoner came in and his German hosts had satisfied themselves as to his life history and taken down all the details—that is all he would give them—he was immedi- ately surrounded by his fellow prison- ers, who were eager for any bit ef news or information he could possibly give them, and as a rule he was glad to tell us, because, if he had been in the hands of the Huns for any length of time, he had seen very few English officers. > The conditions of this prison were bad enough when a man was in nor- mally good health, but it was barbar- ous to subject a wounded soldier to the hardships and discomforts of the place. However, this was the fate of a poor private we discovered there one day in terrific pain, suffering from shrapnel in his stomach and back. All of us officers asked to have him sent to a hospital, but the doctors curtly refused, saying it was against orders. So the poor creature went on suffering from day to day and was still there when I left—anotaer victim of Ger- man cruelty. At one time in this prison camp there were a French marine, a French flying officer, two Belgian soldiers, and of the United Kingdom one from Canada, two from England, three from Ireland, a couple from Scotland, one from Wales, a man from South Africa, one from Algeria, and a New Zealander, the latter being from my own squadron, a man whom I thought had been killed, and he was equally surprised when brought’ into the prison to find me there. In addition. there were a Chi- paman and myself from the U. S. A. It was quite a cosmopolitan group, Which Lieutenant O’Brien Table in the Center of the Group. was as much speculation as to who would win the prize as if it had been the finest treasure in the world. The great prize was one-third of a loaf of bread. Through some arrangement, which I never quite figured out, it happened that among the eight or ten officers who were there with me, there was always one-third of a loaf of bread over. There was just one way of. getting that bread, and that was to draw lots. Consequently that was what started the lottery. I believe if a man had ever been inclined to cheat he would have been sorely tempted in this instance, but the game was played ab- solutely square, and if a man had been caught cheating the chances are that he would have been shunned by the rest of the officers as long as he was in prison. I was fortunate enough to win the prize twice. One man—and I think he was the smallest eater in the camp—won it on three successive days, but it was well From a Photograph Taken in the Courtyard of the Officers’ Prison at Courtrai, Preserved Throughout His Perilous Journey. O'Brien Is Shown Standing Behind the German Guard, Who Sits at the and as one typical Irishman sald, “Sure, and we have every nation that’s worth mentioning, including the darn Germans with us whites.” Of course this was not translated to the Ger- mans, nor was it even spoken in their hearing, or we probably would not have had quite so cosmopolitan a bunch. Each man in the prison was ready to uphold his native eountiry in any argu- ment that could possibly be started, and it goes without saying that I never took a back seat in any of them with my praise for America, with the Cana- dian and Chinaman chiming in on my side. But they were friendly argu- ments; we were all in the same boat and that was no place for quarreling. Continued next week) . —————— — Norwegian government experi- menters have succeeded in producing a bread containing 20 per cent. of fish. “od od
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