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قراءة كتاب The Escape of a Princess Pat Being the full account of the capture and fifteen months' imprisonment of Corporal Edwards, of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry, and his final escape from Germany into Holland

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The Escape of a Princess Pat Being the full account of the capture and fifteen months' imprisonment of Corporal Edwards, of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry, and his final escape from Germany into Holland

The Escape of a Princess Pat Being the full account of the capture and fifteen months' imprisonment of Corporal Edwards, of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry, and his final escape from Germany into Holland

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
الصفحة رقم: 2

tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">Away Again

123 XV Paying the Piper 140 XVI The Third Escape 158 XVII What Happened in the Wood 177 XVIII The Last Lap 185 XIX Holland at Last 194 XX "It's a Way They Have in the Army" 203   The Evidence in the Case 210






ILLUSTRATIONS


Corporal (Now Sergeant) Edward Edwards, Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry Frontispiece
  PAGE
British wounded waiting for transportation to a dressing station 26
The Princess Patricias in billets at Westoutre, Belgium 26
German prisoners bringing wounded men down a communication trench 42
Wounded Canadians receiving first aid after an attack 64
Recipes from Corporal Edward's Diary 84
Fellow prisoners at Giessen 98
Fellow prisoners at Giessen 98
Record of second escape and recapture 126
German prisoners at Southampton 136
High explosives bursting over German trenches 136
Salient details of the third escape 170
Private Mervin C. Simmons, C.E.F. 192
The cemetery at Celle Laager Z 1 Camp 206
Corporal Edwards after his escape 206
Homeward bound 220









THE ESCAPE OF A PRINCESS PAT






THE ESCAPE OF
A PRINCESS PAT



CHAPTER I

Polygon Wood

Ypres and Hill 60—Preparing for the Gas—Why the Patricias Cheered—The Retirement—The Thin Red Line.


The Princess Patricias had lain in Polygon Wood since the twentieth of April, mid-way between the sanguinary struggles of St. Julien and Hill 60, spectators of both. Although subjected to constant alarm we had had a comparatively quiet time of it, with casualties that had only varied from five to fifty-odd each day.

By day and night the gun-fire of both battles had beat back upon us in great waves of sound. There were times when we had donned our water soaked handkerchiefs for the gas that always threatened but never came, so that the expectation might have shaken less steady troops. Quick on the heels of the first news of the gas the women of Britain, their tears scalding their needles, with one accord had laboured, sans rest, sans sleep, sans everything, so that shortly there had poured in to us here a steady stream of gauze pads for mouth and nostril. For the protection of our lungs against the poison of the gas they were at least better than the filthy rags we called handkerchiefs. We wore their gifts and in spirit bowed to the donors, as I think all still do.

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