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THE CHINA MAIL, SATURDAY, JULY 5, 1958.
SAVED:
HER eyes were blue and her
face was pale and tho looked as gentle as a kitten. Yet this slip of a girl terrified me.
One word from her and I was as good as dead, For she knew my secret. She knew I was on the run from the dreaded secret police.
the
And Ironically it was because scare- crow that I was, I had remembered my manners when I humped into her in street of the little town of Urlask, a couple of hundred miles from the Caspian, and had blurted out "Sorry” in Gorman,
I winced with fear as she said: "You're
no Russian,"
Then my heart leapt ngain as she said: "Follow me. It's too dangerous for us to talk here."
Dumbly I followed, my brain racing feverishly. Was she a spy? Was it a trup? Would the ruthless hands of the Red police seize me as I stepped through her door?
I had covered thousands of miles and suffered countless agonies since my escape from a slave camp in Siberia and I trusted no one,
Gripping a kalfe in my pocke
I swore that is girl had betrayed me then she would die first,
God forgive me that thought. For although I did not know it
I was walking with an angel,
I realised this within seconds
of being shown into her ting
room in a back-street slum. saw a tear shining on her cheek.
She held cut her hand and I gazed at I not understanding what she meant.
Then I saw she held a much- thumbed photograph.
A picture
It was a picture of a hand some young sergeant in German medical cores,
As I pianged at it the naked. with yearning in voice:
the
by a
back
street
angel
Clemens Forell, feft, flecing from a Russian slave camp, was proparòd to kill anyone who stood in his way.........ovon * a blue-eyed girl. He did not
“know sho hold the key to-
Here Is Forell's
freedom.
own story of that tense and ** touching encounter. ** Giemena Foretľ's escape story, translated by Lawrence Wilson, is told by J. M. Bauer in
"AR For at my Feet Wul Carry Me “ (Deutsch, 18.).
WALKED 8,000 MILES TO FREEDOM
As I
The thought of It thrilled me
walked down and seared me. Now I couldn't street I saw u huge think of failure.
ahead of me with
four pro-
strange uniforms. I burst past them and sung myself at a tall, magnificently uniformed oficer *Please-asylum!" I blurted In German.
Don't "Help me. hand me back. I 4411 an: escapert German prisoner-of- war. I escaped three years ago and have just crossed into your country."
Probable
'Do you know him?"
she pleaded
"That is the man," said a
FORELL ted as the
picture of a handsome young, German, soldier ...... the, sweetheart she had hot See for years. "Maybe he's still alive, jold Forell, but in his heart he knew it was hopeless-(Illar tration by Arthur Witkk)
On December 22, 1952, three jeurs and two months' after '1. had escaped, I reached Mudleh,
So this was the end of the road....all 8,000 miles of it.
And as I walked up the familiar street my strength_and courage, socmed to drain from my body.
For I did not know wha! 1 would And when I knocked on the door of the house I called home.
in
Uncle
My uncle, who had not been fouth with the family for
youts, had been unable to tell ine anything.
I did not even know if my
And
police officer, pointing at me, parents, were alive or dead or I
And to my horror I realised would have wired them. that Uncle Erich obviously now I was standing at the door. For a full minute I stood with did not recognise me.
my hand
on the Inneker. "I
Severely he said to me, "I have here an album of photo- graphs, snapshots of the family to which you claim to betong
He opened the album and pointed to a picture of a family group. "Who are there people?" he snapped.
raised it but dare not drop it.
I could not bear to think that any other face than that of my appiðar at tho mother should
door.
A lump came to my throat and fears spraig to my eyes. The desperately, urgently, i knocked,
I shall never forget the agony
The officer never lost his composure. Slowly, pedantie- ally, he told me that I would I identified my mother, my of waiting for the door to open. brother, my sister and a three. I wanted to run away and bilde. year-old boy enyocif:
By the time, the door was
not be handed back if I were speaking the truth.
If. us seemed more probable, I were a Soviet agent, the went back to the photographs there alood....my mother.
Still he was not satisfied. He opened I was ready to screams.
authorities would make doubly sure that I did not return. Moanwhile, until the matter was clarified, he added, I was under arrest,
I was taken to Teheran where I was questioned four or five a wide imes a day over a
period of bullding several weeks, the huge
In fact, I am certain I would
A Kulaki gulde led my own letters U.S.S.R. Llazoned across have been gaoled as a spy, or the Caucasus mountains and it. girlnded me over to fessional smugglers. her the leader asked.
Can you pay?”
"Do you know him?
Have
you ever met him??
At once "How much
"How much do you want?" I countered,
They laughed and look every
I knew then that this hand- rouble I owned,
soldier had some young her sweetheart..
been
And slowly, sidly. I shook my head and handed her back the picture.
For days
For days I was with them. At last we reached a fast- flowing river and woded across.
Suspected
even executed, had I not sud- denly remembered that I had an uncle who worked for the TURKISH GOVEnthieht in Ankara: Above them was the hated Desperately I tried to remem- At last it came red hammer and slekte emblem, ber his name.
bock to mé---Uncle Erich The Russian consulatet
Handrexel.
Pante- 1 began to run. stricken, I stumbled through the sireels, away from those Jetters, away from that crest, away from that building of · terror.
Who are you?
and pointed to one of myself,
"Do you recognise that face?" I laughed. "Obviously don'i!" I said.
Tată
"What uniform to he wear- g? What is his regiment? What is his rani:?"
Then the catch ellcked and
Mother
Oh, the agony, oh, the joy of that moment. For sho knew me at once.
Old though her eyes might be, they were not deceived by the
scoring my lines
face, the from the sunken cheeste.
Quietly 'she began to weep. Then, without a word, she took me in her arms and lod-me- Inside.
Neither rank or regimennt could be identifled Photograph.
"He's a lance-corporal in the 100th Alpine Regiment," I said.
"And that's my. mother's alburo Len't it? If you take out that photograph, you will find the date of her birthday
in my hand-writing on tie back--October 18, 1939."
"All these years I have kneÁR you were alive," she told me, Even though you were reported missing, killed, I ll knew you would. belleved
como home,"
and
then
When I trad heard her story Uncle Erich took out the I-sald a prayer of thanks. And The next day my gaolero photograph, looked at the back not only for the strength I had agreed to send a mezage to the and handed it to the Colonel, fantasile 8,000-mile journey.
been given to endure TOY I screamed as She sighed. In a brittle little In mid-stream the leader sad screamed
Turkish Embassy, asking that Then he said: I ran....
"So you are, volee she said: "That is Franz. laconleally: "You're crossing the sylum, for protection. Crowds
for the police, for he be contacted.
after all, my nephew Clemens, For six days I waited, grow- I didn't recognise you and I FOR THE FACT THAT I HAD 1 THANKED GOD, ALSO, We met in the van........in frontier info Iran now,"
convinced sit don't, even now." Kharkov, He was take” prisoner Exactly three days later
I stopped and stared, but I rang more and more
A MOTHER TO WELCOME that my uncle must have died. and I saw him again in the
on. came to the fringe of a large
On the seventh day I was taken
ME HOME. Turning to the Colonel to P.a.W. enge after the city was town and experienced
"Police?" A man pointed to from my cell and found myself sald: "I am satisfied that this recaptured.
rible shock.
door, guarded by sentries in face to face with Uncle Erich.
man is my nephew.”
"Nobody knew where he was being taken. 1 just thought you might have seen him...."
Kharkov! That would have been in 1943. She must have been only about 19 at the time.
Lamely I sold:
"He may
be allve.'
"Of course," she said almost brightly. "And now you must have sor ething to eat.
When I had finished and told her my story, she said: "Have you thought of what you tre going to d without any papers when you get to the ollfelds west of the Caspian?"
I shrugged. Trust to luck.
I suppose."
Mookly
She thought for a moment. "Would you mind staying the might here?" she asked. "I can sleep with a friend There is plenty to eat and nobody will disturb you."
Meekly I thanked her andi did as I was takl.
esme
The next evening she back-with an oficial permit which allowed me lo travel within a radius of 530 milles from Urlask. It was more valuable to me than gold.
"I'm sorry it's not an identity card," she said, "but that would have needed a photograph. It's not a forgery, though, and it will be a help.”
I stammered my thanks. They sounded utterly inadequate. Then I went on my way, think- Ing of this girl who loved a German and of the risks she had taken for me.
Smugglers
Alchendrov-Gay
Was
next slop. There, I was to get in touch with a member of the Kulaki,, a Resistorice, movement with agente bli byér Russia.
I fáütid him with... kiikkiÓN. chav and passed on rhum there Frida,, from Krús, Ja Grind Erode - Gruny lo Makhachkala, on the wosteiri savers of the Chaiad,
I walked, : biletid dini stold ridda on arama tapi gak, there, travelling all the time belleath
the Kulaki oloak.
Now the date Auge Novernhor,
| 1957, abd' 3. wel 'ort, ihre fakt fad
a ter.
A
FERDINAND
MANDRAKE THE MAGICIAN
WHEN JAAM PICKS
UP AN OIL VIELL--
TO HAVE A BETTER
I LOOK AT IT--
JOHNNY HAZARD
OKAY— RIAKA'S GONE! KEEP RECORDING, WHILE
I MÁKE THIS HOPE SECURE
FOR OUR LITTLE TREK. DOWN TO PRINCE KRI'S
ROOM!
JAMI REALIZES HE:
DID SOMETHING WRONG- HE PICKS UPA NEARBY WAREHOUSE.
CHECK! AHEM......no YESME, THIS FOOD SURE ID
GREAT IN ]NEPISTANĮ TASTES A JUST UKE MOIA'S HOWAE COOKING
--AND PLUSS
THE OIL SPOUTI
AS THE RECORDER BEGING PLAYBACK, JOHNNY, BASES, HIMSELF OUT INTO SPACESHA.
YES, SIR, THIS FOOT SURE 13
GREAT
By Mik
By Lee Falk and Päll Davis
CONTINUED -
THERE HEIS!
By Frank Robblás
AND THEN, AS JOHNNY HEARS PRINCE KIRI+
LONG WAY DOWN WIND ENOUGH TO YEAR
A MAN APARŢ
SHORTI
THE END
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