Chapter I: Front Matter

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FOUR-FIFTY MILES TO FREEDOM

THE SUCCESSFUL ESCAPE PARTY, WITH SOME CAPTURED TROPHIES.
Left to right--standing: Captains J. H. HARRIS, F. R.
ELLIS, A. B. HAIG, Commander A. D. COCHRANE,
D.S.O., R.N., Captains V. S. CLARKE and M. A. B.
JOHNSTON. Seated: Captains R. A. P. GRANT, M.C., and
K. D. YEARSLEY.]

FOUR-FIFTY MILES TO FREEDOM

by

CAPTAIN M. A. B. JOHNSTON, R.G.A. and CAPTAIN K. D. YEARSLEY, R.E.

William Blackwood and Sons Edinburgh and London 1919

All Rights Reserved

_TO THE_
_REVEREND =HAROLD SPOONER, C.F.=,_
_FELLOW-PRISONER OF WAR
IN TURKEY._

CONTENTS.

CHAP. PAGE

I. KASTAMONI AND CHANGRI 3
II. FIRST PLANS FOR ESCAPE 15
III. AN ATTEMPT THAT FAILED 39
IV. YOZGAD CAMP 55
V. THE FLAG FALLS 83
VI. THE PEACEFUL SHEPHERDS 108
VII. RECAPTURED? 124
VIII. THE ANCIENT HALYS 140
IX. A RETREAT UNDER FIRE 159
X. THE THREE HUNS 176
XI. IN THE HEART OF THE TAURUS 195
XII. DOWN TO THE SEA 211
XIII. ON THE COAST 233
XIV. FAILURE AND SUCCESS 253
XV. FREEDOM 278
XVI. CONCLUSION 293

ILLUSTRATIONS.

THE SUCCESSFUL ESCAPE PARTY, WITH SOME
CAPTURED TROPHIES _Frontispiece_
AN OLD BRIDGE AT KASTAMONI _Facing p._ 4
COUNTRY KNOWN TO THE LOCAL HUNT CLUB
AS "HADES" " 60
YOZGAD CAMP FROM N.W. " 94
UPPER HOUSE, YOZGAD, FROM N.N.E. (WINTER TIME) " 98
THE FLIGHT FROM MOSES' WELL " 162
LIFE IN THE RAVINE " 234
THE MOTOR BOAT " 274
MAP _at end_

Four-Fifty Miles to Freedom.

PRISONER OF WAR.

When you've halted after marching till you feel you do not care
What may happen, for you can't march any more,
And the order comes to "Fall in" and to march you know not where,
Then thank God you're not a prisoner of war.

When you're fighting in the trenches ankle-deep in mud and slush,
With the north wind cutting through you keen and raw,
While the second hand ticks slowly till it's time to make the rush,
Then thank God you're not a prisoner of war.

When the order's "Up and at 'em" and the blood beats through your head,
When the dead are falling round you by the score,
And when all you think and all you feel and all you see is red,
Then thank God you're not a prisoner of war.

When you're fighting in the desert where the heat waves never stop,
And you've never known what thirst has been before,
Though you'd sell your soul for water and you know there's not a drop,
Then thank God you're not a prisoner of war.

We've been handed down a birthright which the bards of ages sing,
From the days of Agincourt and long before,
That a Briton owns no master save his God and save his king,
But you find a third when prisoner of war.

It's a feeling right inside you, and it never lets you go,
That you haven't been allowed to pay your score:
You may still be hale and hearty, but you're missing all the show.
What offers for the job? Prisoner of war.

M. A. B. J.
_Written in_ KASTAMONI,
1916.