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[Page 49]
which to get a drink. We laid down on our stomachs, putting our mouth to the hole and drank and drank! This iced drink of ours was better for us, far better, than anything that was ever bottled, but very cold. We then lay on the bank resting for a while, our thirst for once, appeased with good clear water.
From this point we could see the reflection of the lights of Dutch towns in the sky, so we sat and wondered if we should be successful this time. Having been rested and refreshed, we waited until all was quiet, and then got onto the main road again starting with hearts full of hope.
The point where we were first captured was about 300 yards over a Railway line, that had a signal lighted with three lights, so that on seeing those lights I at once turned off the road, and followed the advice given me by the Dutch smugglers on the previous occasion. Feeling tired and weary, we had a rest just outside a Cemetery, realising that the next few hours would determine our fate. But after walking a little further on we determined to hide and rest so that our crossing of the Frontier would take place Sunday morning when people do not rise early, and a Sentry is dreaming of an engagement he has for the evening. So wending our way as best we could, through a swamp we searched for a dry spot, but as we advanced the swamp became worse and almost impassable, we had to retrace our steps, eventually deciding on a little open spot of high land. Although it was high it was not dry, for it was still raining. The timber here was a little bigger, and afforded us better shelter, so making our bed of broken twigs for the ground was water logged and oozing with water when one walked on it. We lay down, and were soon both asleep. My mate said I frightened him several times with my snoring, so much noise did I make, and so sound was my slumber.
We awakened next morning, cold, wet and stiff, so stripped off, and had a good old swill in a nearby drain, which refreshed us greatly. On account of being in a swamp we were not disturbed at all during the day, so allowed ourselves more ease, and had a real good rest. Setting out at dusk for our final sprint – failure or success – we wended our way back from the swamp, the same way as we had come. There seemed to be only the one entrance, so had no other alternative but to get back to the road we had left the evening before, and struck off in a southerly direction. The road we followed was thickly wooded on either side and very swampy, so was quiet and not very much used. After following it for about an hour or two we heard somebody approaching, walking in the middle of the road. So feeling like a rest, we slid down into the ditch and lay quiet, until the traveller had passed by. He may have been only a "Civie" going home from his week-end visit, or he may have been one of the patrols, anyhow we were taking no chances, acting on the German [indecipherable] "it is better to be safe than sorry." Then we clambered out and walked on for some time, until we heard the constant barking of dogs, not knowing whether they were in Holland or the blood-