Day one of my captivity I have been captured by the enemy. They came in the evening with their large trucks and their strange, thin radios, which they kept tapping with their fingertips. I wondered at first if they were typing in Morse Code, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t any code I recognized. They asked me if I knew what was going on. Of course I knew. The enemy had come for me and was taking me to a POW camp. It was only a matter of time before they discovered the work I had been doing in my secret chamber. I’d been writing letters to my commanders—in code, of course—telling them about all I was learning as a spy in this strange country. Now all the data, all the observations, thrown out into rubbish piles to be first studied and then burned
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Nice little company. We sold carpet.” I wink at him. “Ah, you’re an undercover, eh?” “No, more like over-cover.” We both laugh...until I remember he has stolen my spoon. Maybe he’s digging a tunnel of his own. Or maybe he is a spy placed inside by the enemy. He is old. Have the Germans no mercy?
Day whatever of my captivity There is a rumor in the air. There is to be entertainment for the prisoners tomorrow. This might be just the cover I need to make my break for freedom. I have a disguise ready. Two days ago, I found myself unsupervised in the laundry facility and snatched one of those strange blue uniforms from the drying rack. It’s been hiding under my mattress, waiting for the right opportunity.
Today
I am dressing in the enemy’s uniform, my hands shaking. The music has started in the canteen. I am swift and stealthy as I make my escape through the front gates. Hiding in the bushes by the road, I am surprised by the lack of security. Perhaps this is a trap. There’s only one way to find out. I screw my courage to the sticking place and stroll down the road, away from the camp, away from my cruel captors. I’ve been a good soldier; it’s time to go
Nice little company. We sold carpet.” I wink at him. “Ah, you’re an undercover, eh?” “No, more like over-cover.” We both laugh...until I remember he has stolen my spoon. Maybe he’s digging a tunnel of his own. Or maybe he is a spy placed inside by the enemy. He is old. Have the Germans no mercy?
Day whatever of my captivity There is a rumor in the air. There is to be entertainment for the prisoners tomorrow. This might be just the cover I need to make my break for freedom. I have a disguise ready. Two days ago, I found myself unsupervised in the laundry facility and snatched one of those strange blue uniforms from the drying rack. It’s been hiding under my mattress, waiting for the right opportunity.
Today
I am dressing in the enemy’s uniform, my hands shaking. The music has started in the canteen. I am swift and stealthy as I make my escape through the front gates. Hiding in the bushes by the road, I am surprised by the lack of security. Perhaps this is a trap. There’s only one way to find out. I screw my courage to the sticking place and stroll down the road, away from the camp, away from my cruel captors. I’ve been a good soldier; it’s time to go