began to make new maps and to draw conclusions from the experience of my previous flight. I felt convinced that my next attempt would succeed and was determined this time to go alone.
Busy with my preparations I found the winter passing swiftly and by the time the next “escape season” came round I was well equipped. This time I wanted to start earlier, so as to get through the village of Nelang while it was still uninhabited. I had not counted on getting back the kit I had left with the Indian so I supplied myself afresh with the things I most needed. A touching proof of comradeship was the generosity of my companions who, hard up as many of them were, spent their money freely in contributing to my outfit.
I was not the only P.O.W. who wanted to get away. My two best friends, Rolf Magener and Heins von Have, were also engaged in preparing to escape. Both spoke fluent English, and they aimed to work their way through India to the Burma front. Von Have had already escaped two years before with a companion and had almost reached Burma, but was caught just before the frontier. During a second attempt his friend had a fatal accident. Three or four other internees, it was said, planned to escape. Finally the whole seven of us got together and decided to make a simultaneous break-out on the grounds that successive individual attempts increased the vigilance of the guards, and made it more and more difficult to get away as time went on. If the mass escape succeeded each of us, once out of the camp, could follow his own route. Peter Aufschnaiter, who this time had as his partner Bruno Treipel from Salzburg, and two fellows from Berlin, Hans Kopp and Sattler, wished, like me, to escape to Tibet.
Our zero hour was fixed as 2 p.m. on April 29th, 1944. Our plan was to disguise ourselves as a barbed-wire repairing squad. Such working parties were a normal sight. The reason for them was that white ants were always busy eating away the numerous posts which supported the wire and these had to be continually renewed. Working parties consisted of Indians with an English overseer.
At the appointed time we met in a little hut in the neighbourhood of one of the least closely watched wire corridors. Here make-up experts from the camp transformed us in a trice into Indians. Have and Magener got English officers’ uniforms. We “Indians” had our heads shaved and put on turbans. Serious as the situation was, we could not help laughing when we looked at one another. We looked like masqueraders bound for a carnival. Two of us carried a ladder, which had been conveyed the night before to an unguarded spot in the wire fencing. We had also wangled a long roll of barbed wire and hung it on a post. Our belongings were stowed away under our white robes and in bundles, which did not look odd as Indians always carry things around with them. Our two “British officers” behaved very realistically. They carried rolls with blue-prints under their arms and swung their swagger-canes. We had already made a breach in the fence through which we now slipped one after another into the unguarded passage which separated the different sections of the camp. From here it was about 300 yards to the main gate. We attracted no attention and only stopped once, when the sergeant-major rode by the main gate on his bicycle. Our “officers” chose that moment to inspect the wire closely. After that we passed out through the gate without causing the guards to bat an eyelid. It was comforting to see them saluting smartly and obviously suspicious of nobody. Our seventh man, Sattler, who had left his hut rather late, arrived after us. His face was black and he was swinging a tarpot energetically. The sentries let him through and he only caught up with us outside the gate.
As soon as we were out of sight of the guards we vanished into the bush and got rid of our disguises. Under our Indian robes we wore khaki, our normal dress when on outings. In a few words we bade each other goodbye. Have, Magener and I ran for a few miles together and then our ways parted. I chose the same route as last time, and travelled as fast as I could in order to put as long a distance as possible between me and the camp by the next morning. This time I was determined not to depart from my resolve to travel only by night and lie up by day. No! this time I was not going to take any risks. My four comrades, for whom Tibet was also the objective, moved in a party and had the nerve to use the main road which led via Mussoorie into the valley of the Ganges. I found this too risky and followed my former route through the Jumna and Aglar valleys. During the first night I must have waded through the Aglar forty times. All the same, when morning came I lay up in exactly the same place which it had taken me four days to reach in the previous year. Happy to be free, I felt satisfied with my performance, though I was covered with scratches and bruises and owing to my heavy load had walked through the soles of a pair of new tennis shoes in a single night.
I chose my first day-camp between two boulders in the river-bed, but I had hardly unpacked my things when a company of apes appeared. They caught sight of me and began to pelt me with clods. Distracted by their noise I failed to observe a body of thirty Indians who came running up the river-bed. I only noticed them when they had approached dangerously near to my hiding-place. I still do not know if they were fishermen or persons in search of us fugitives. In any case I could hardly believe that they had not spotted me for they were within a few yards of me as they ran by. I breathed again, but took this for a warning and remained in my shelter till evening, not moving till darkness had fallen. I followed the Aglar the whole night long and made good progress. My next camp provided no excitements, and I was able to refresh myself with a good sleep. Towards evening I grew impatient and broke camp rather too early. I had only been walking for a few hundred yards, when I ran into an Indian woman at a water-hole. She screamed with fright, let her water-jar fall and ran towards the nearby houses. I was no less frightened than she was and dashed from the track into a gulley. Here I had to climb steeply and though I knew I was going in the right direction my diversion represented a painful detour that put me back by several hours. I had to climb Nag Tibba, a mountain over 10,000 feet high, which in its upper regions is completely deserted and thickly covered with forest.
As I was loping along in the grey of dawn I found myself facing my first leopard. My heart nearly stopped beating as I was completely defenceless. My only weapon was a long knife which the camp blacksmith had made expressly for me. I carried it sheathed in a stick. The leopard sat on a thick branch fifteen feet or more above the ground, ready to spring. I thought like lightning what was the best thing to do, then, masking my fear, I walked steadily on my way. Nothing happened, but for a long time I had a peculiar feeling in my back.
Up to now I had been following the ridge of Nag Tibba and now at last I tumbled on to the road again. I had not gone far when I got another surprise. In the middle of the track lay some men—snoring! They were Peter Aufschnaiter and his three companions. I shook them awake and we all betook ourselves to a sheltered spot where we recounted what had befallen us on the trek. We were all in excellent shape and were convinced that we should get through to Tibet. After passing the day in the company of my friends I found it hard to go on alone in the evening, but I remained true to my resolve. The same night I reached the Ganges. I had been five days on the run.
At Uttar Kashi, the temple town which I have mentioned in connection with my first escape, I had to run for my life. I had just passed a house when two men came out and started running after me. I fled headlong through fields and scrub down to the Ganges and there hid myself between two great blocks of boulders. All was quiet and it was clear that I had escaped from my pursuers; but only after a longish time did I dare to come out into the bright moonlight. It was a pleasure for me at this stage to travel along a familiar route, and my happiness at such speedy progress made me forget the heavy load I was carrying. It is true that my feet were very sore, but they seemed to recover during my daytime rest. I often slept for ten hours at a stretch.
At length I came to the farmhouse of my Indian friend to whom I had in the previous year entrusted my money and effects. It was now May and we had agreed that he was to expect me at midnight any day during the month. I purposely did not walk straight into the house, and before doing anything else I hid my rucksack, as betrayal was not beyond the bounds of possibility.
The moon shone full upon the farmhouse, so I hid myself in the darkness of the stable and twice softly called my friend’s name. The door was flung open and out rushed my friend, threw himself on the ground, and kissed my feet. Tears of joy flowed down his cheeks. He led me to a room lying apart from the house, on the door of which an enormous lock was hanging. Here he lit a pine-wood torch and opened a wooden chest. Inside were all my things carefully sewn up in cotton bags. Deeply touched by his loyalty, I unpacked everything and gave him a reward. You can imagine that