Colditz Page 6

  On 24 February, two French officers, Alain Le Ray and André Tournon arrived. They had escaped from Oflag IID at Jastrow, not far from the Baltic Coast and east of Stettin. They had crossed the Rhine at Mainz but were retaken at Bingerbruck, some 600 miles away, on 24 January after five days of freedom. Their escape took place in the depths of a Baltic winter; in fact they had dug a snow grave and hidden in it.

  On 18 March, two French lieutenants, Paillie and Cazamayou, were caught tunnelling in the clock tower. They made too much noise. Eggers states in his diary that Hauptmann Lange, the German security officer at the time, thereupon had all doors at different floor levels which led into the tower walled up. The consequences were serious for the Germans. The French constructed a secret entrance to the tower under the roof of the Castle, and thenceforth were able to descend the tower and recommence their tunnel at the bottom in undisturbed privacy.

  The British tunnel in the canteen was making good progress. On Saturday night, 22 March, Dick Howe, Rupert Barry and I were working in the tunnel. Geoffrey Wardle and Peter Storie-Pugh were keeping a look-out through the canteen windows in the courtyard and on to the lawn.

  The Germans had been having a party. The sounds of their revelry could be heard everywhere. In fact, they were keeping our orderlies, who slept nearby, awake. Solly Goldman, a Jew from Whitechapel, had arrived in Colditz as Colonel German’s batman. With the other orderlies he had a place reserved in the tunnel for the second “go.” He possessed a redoubtable Cockney wit and an unquenchable bubbling temperament which expressed itself in explosive laughter whenever the opportunity arose. When Guy German had been interviewed by the Kommandant on his arrival, Goldman was beside him and became so voluble at the interrogation that he was mistaken by the Kommandant for our new Senior British Officer.

  Tonight Goldman wanted to go to sleep. So he lifted the black-out curtain, opened the nearest window and started barracking a nearby sentry. Shots rang out and Goldman withdrew his head smartly. Very soon a posse of Goons (as the British called the German guards) entered the courtyard heading for the British quarters: Hauptmann Priem and the German Regimental Sergeant-Major, Oberstabsfeldwebel Gephard, the corporal known as the Fouine (ferret) and half a dozen soldiers. They burst into the quarters shouting “Aufstehen!,” waking everyone and prodding men out of bed. They discovered four officers missing. They lost their heads. They had expected and intended to have fun at the prisoners’ expense. The new turn of events shook them.

  Eventually Priem sent out orders for the dogs to be summoned. He then announced that “Hauptmann Howe” (pronouncing it “Hover” in German fashion) had been seen escaping and had been shot. He observed the reaction to this announcement, and probably deduced from the merriment that an actual escape had not taken place. In any event, his face showed marked relief.

  Gephard now appeared following in the trail of the Alsatian dogs and dogmen. This part of the proceedings, the Schnüffelhunde (POW slang for the dogs) in action, interested everybody tremendously. But notwithstanding the dogmen’s encouraging “Such! Such! Such!” and their gentle thrusting of the dogs’ noses into bedding and clothing, the dogs appeared to have little idea of what was required. When they produced nothing, Priem sent out orders for the whole camp to be paraded. It was about 2 a.m. by then. Suddenly, “Stooge” Wardle, who was the look-out in the canteen shouted “They’re heading this way.” He had scarcely time to jump down into the tunnel, and I to pull the manhole cover over, before the Jerries were in. They searched the canteen and tried hard to lift the manhole cover, but were unable to do so as I was hanging on to it for dear life from underneath, fingers wedged in a protruding lip of the cover. They departed.

  As soon as Wardle noticed that a “General Appell” had been called, I told Rupert and Dick in the tunnel with me to start at once building a false wall halfway up the tunnel, behind which we put the store of food and other escape paraphernalia such as rucksacks, maps, compasses and civilian clothing which were normally kept hidden there.

  The Poles and French chanted a dirge as they stood and shivered in the yard. It was the first midnight Appell since the British arrived.

  By 3:45 a.m. the Schloss had been searched from end to end without success. The other nationalities were dismissed from the Hof, and the British were ordered to bed; Colonel German had to appear for a few minutes in the Evidenzzimmer (the evidence, or conference, room) to answer questions; always the same answer: “Ich weiss nicht.”

  Rupert and Dick quietly continued their work and in a few hours had constructed a forbidding-looking false wall with stones from the original wall which had been demolished, jointed with clay from under the lawn and coated with dust wherever the joints showed.

  By 5 a.m. all was quiet again. We departed as we had come and went to bed wondering how the Germans would react to our reappearance at morning Appell. They had apparently been put to a great deal of trouble. While the Jerries had had the whole camp on parade, they had carried out an individual identity check. Every officer paraded in front of a table where he was identified against his photograph and duly registered as present. We were recorded as having escaped, and messages, flashed to the OKW, brought into action all over the country a network of precautions for the recapture of prisoners.

  At the morning Appell, when all were found present, confusion reigned once more. We refused to explain our disappearance and were remanded for sentence for causing a disturbance and being absent from Appell. The OKW orders had to be countermanded and the Kommandant had a rap over the knuckles for the incident.

  The Goons were upset and watchful. They again visited the canteen, and although they managed to remove the manhole cover and descend to the tunnel, they found nothing unusual. Kenneth, who was in the background of the shop at the time, trying to appear occupied with his accounts, breathed an audible sigh of relief.

  A mock funeral was held to commemorate the death of Dick Howe: the cortège, led by crucifix and candlebearers; a coffin consisting of a dormitory locker, draped with a blanket chalked in the colors of the Union Jack carried by four tall men; Chopin’s Funeral March provided by two accordionists; a solemn procession, medals on a cushion, wreathbearers, moving with slow measured tread; a tearful, skirted (kilted) widow draped in black, supported by two Polish officers—close relatives of the deceased; a banner with a strange device—a skull and crossbones; all passed before the astonished gaze of Hauptmann Priem, who took it in good humor until a funeral oration given ad lib by a Frenchman, and not anticipated by the cortège, showered such insults at the German Reich and its representatives in Colditz that Priem called out the guard and put a stop to it. Later Colonel German was called and formally presented with a note by Priem. It turned out to be a note of condolences for the demise of Dick! A nice turn—calculated to weaken the entente cordiale! Not satisfied with that, Priem announced by interpreter at the next morning’s Appell, “In future, no funerals shall take place without twelve hours’ notice being given.”

  The saving of the tunnel produced a wave of enthusiasm. There was little more work to be done now. The British contingent—all of whom, except for the three padres, were scheduled to escape—began feverishly preparing their personal kit. Polish officers, participants also in the escape, came to and fro. For days the conversation had been concerned only with food, money, maps, and frontiers.

  “Solitary confinement” is translated into the Wehrmacht regulations as Stubenarrest. The Geneva Convention specifies that POW officers should be treated in the “same way as German officers would be treated for an offense. Stubenarrest was solitary confinement for not more than thirty days in a room with the bare essentials of comfort—mattress, table, chair, bucket and water jug—on standard rations and with books, writing material and cigarettes allowed. There were about half a dozen solitary-confinement cells in the Castle precinct; they were about four yards square and each had one small, heavily barred window. There were so many offenders in Colditz that the cells nearly always housed
two or three POWs instead of one—and there was a waiting list. We, the canteen tunnellers, were awarded seven days Stubenarrest for “being absent from … quarters and for attempting to tunnel out of the camp from the church.” The Germans had actually discovered tools and the beginnings of a tunnel in the chapel. It is not known who the tunnellers in this instance were.

  A further incident towards the end of March 1941 provoked an incipient discord within the international community. Two Frenchmen decided to attempt the same escape tried by the two Polish officers, through the window of the canteen immediately above where our tunnel was already debouching. André Boucheron and Jacques Charvet made too much noise trying to cut the window bars. A sentry overheard, approached the window, saw shadows within and raised the alarm. To add insult to injury, whilst the two Frenchmen regained their quarters without demur, the Germans, convinced that the British or the Poles, whose quarters were near the canteen, must be the culprits, obliged them to spend most of the night on parade in the freezing temperature of the courtyard while the French snored their heads off under warm blankets. The next day, or very soon thereafter, the Germans posted a sentry permanently on a beat that included the grass lawn by the canteen window! He passed the window at one-minute intervals, day and night. He often stood over the exit of the British tunnel.

  On 27 March, twenty-seven Polish officers were ordered without notice to pack and parade for transfer to another camp. Rumor had it that they were going to Fort Spitzberg. The most pertinent common factor among those who were leaving was that they were all determined escapers. Jędrzej Giertych was one of them. Padre Platt was told by the Polish kitchen officer that it was considered amongst their contingent that such an accurate discriminatory selection of men could not have been achieved without the aid of a “stool-pigeon” (an informer). (It transpired later that the Polish kitchen officer was the stool-pigeon!) This was the first information of any substance that the British received of such a likelihood. The Poles would naturally be very circumspect in telling their Allies that they were virtually certain they were infiltrated by a spy.

  4

  Restless Captives

  Spring 1941

  ON 9 APRIL, AS IF TO SIGNAL the opening of the “escaping season,” the British contingent was summoned to the courtyard to have fingerprints and identity photographs taken by a Berlin Gestapo expert. A preposterous number of smudged prints and grimacing photos resulted. This occurrence lends credence to the statement made by General Le Brigant in his book that the Gestapo under the personal direction of Himmler demanded and obtained some rights of surveillance and control vis-à-vis the OKW over the Colditz prisoners. He says Colditz was officially declared a Sonderlager for this purpose.

  On 12 April at Appell, the French Senior Officer notified the absence of a French officer. In order to identify him, the Germans had to check the identity cards of the whole contingent—a long, arduous process as the photos of the French were all nearly a year old, and beards and mustaches had come and gone. Alain Le Ray was identified as missing. Priem suspected he might be hidden up in the Castle. He brought in the Schnüffelhunde, but to no avail. Priem had a nasty time from his superiors—in the form of a dicke Zigarre (translated as a “rocket”) from the Kommandant, followed by searching if futile enquiries from Abwehrstelle Four of the OKW Dresden. Then Berlin intervened with further questions. Priem was in disgrace. More barbed wire appeared on roofs and chimneys; more searchlights, stronger arcs.

  Le Ray had escaped; the first out of Colditz!

  Harry Elliott, who had taken on duties as adjutant of the British contingent, exchanged language lessons with Le Ray. They had become friends. Thus, when the whole contingent was infuriated by the action of Boucheron and Charvet, I took the matter to Colonel German, who deputed Harry to open the case with the French. He started by explaining the situation to Le Ray. Le Ray was already planning his own lone escape in secret. The situation was delicate. Many would-be escapers were “loners,” always on the look out for a propitious moment anywhere in the camp, ready to take a split-second opportunity. Most escapers were unwilling to share their ideas or plans with anyone else until sometimes at the very last minute. They were generally teamed up in twos, threes or fours. Each one kept the scheme secret. Secrecy was considered essential to success; secrecy from the Germans, secrecy from rivals who might steal a promising plan and secrecy from a possible stool-pigeon.

  The Polish contingent posed a further problem in that, being the first prisoners in Colditz, they reckoned that every new scheme that came to light was theirs, arguing that they had thought of it before the other nationalities arrived! So they claimed priority.

  No nationality was blameless. After all, the British had informed nobody of their canteen tunnel. The British also, unwittingly, had caused the discovery of the chapel hole, for which no recognizable team would accept responsibility. After Le Ray’s own escape, though he was blameless, the question was again highlighted.

  After Harry’s earlier discussions with Le Ray and with several other officers besides, diplomacy gained the day and a meeting of Senior Officers initiated an escape committee which drew up a code of cardinal principles and a minimum of rules by which everybody was expected to abide. Individual escapes were permissible so long as the Senior Officer of the contingent was informed. In practice, and as soon as officers appointed to take charge of escape matters established trust and confidence in each other, there arose a continuous liaison between them.

  Le Ray’s escape was a tonic for us all. Serving as a lieutenant in the Alpine troops division, he had commanded a company in the winter of 1939–1940 and had been wounded and taken prisoner. He was a handsome, black-haired, debonair young man, and a great athlete. He gave his own account of his escape in his book Première à Colditz:

  The Germans in Colditz, respecting the Geneva Convention, let us out in the castle grounds from time to time to walk around in a wooded park surrounded on three sides by a fence of barbed wire and on one side by a wall. But it was such a nuisance to get ready for the park walk—assembling in the courtyard, being counted and recounted—that many of the prisoners could not be bothered to go.

  Apart from the wired-off section reserved for prisoners, the park was not particularly well guarded. On the other hand, the castle guards could survey the whole area including the path down to it.

  For the walk, our guards counted us twice, inside and then outside the inner courtyard before we marched. Then again after arrival in the park, and the same on the way back. This was done although the walk down took us only fifteen minutes. In spite of these precautions, I felt that this was a weak spot in the castle’s defenses and made my plans accordingly.

  On the walk back from the park on Good Friday, 11 April, Le Ray dived out of the line of prisoners and hid in the cellar of a house. The path curved at that point and he had relied on the accompanying guards not being able to observe all the prisoners at once. His absence went unnoticed at the count on re-entering the courtyard because two of his colleagues staged a fight. Le Ray made his way back down to the park and managed to climb the wall surrounding the Castle grounds by using the adjoining barbed-wire fence as a ladder. After travelling by train to Nuremberg he assaulted a German civilian and stole his money and his coat.

  From now on, my voyage became a pleasure trip. I went through Stuttgart—Tuttlingen—Singen. On the evening of the Easter Monday, I was only ten kilometers from the Swiss frontier, near Schaffhausen. During the Monday night, I made my way through woodland paths to Gottmadingen, the last station before the frontier and customs-control, where I waited hidden in the bushes. A train passed at about 11:00 p.m. and the locomotive stopped five meters in front of me for the train to be searched. When the doors were shut again, I crept up to the engine, and when the engine driver gave the whistle signal to start, I sprang up onto the front of the locomotive between its headlights, where I hid. The driver opened the throttle and the train roared through the fresh air of the spring night.
Five minutes later we passed the red lights of the enemy guard post; on under the bridge, and then into Switzerland. I had reconquered for myself the right to freedom.

  Meanwhile, on that same Easter Monday, 14 April, the Polish Lieutenant Just was returned to Colditz after a week’s absence and after the first escape attempt from outside the perimeters of Colditz. Two Polish officers, Bednarski and Just, had been escorted on 5 April to a hospital at Königswartha, about thirty miles north-east of Dresden, for the treatment of some alleged ailments. They escaped from the hospital. Just was recaught but made another attempt by leaping from a train. This time he was injured so badly that he gave up. Bednarski reached Cracow in Poland but was eventually also recaught and returned to Colditz.

  There were six new arrivals on 16 April: three RAF officers, Flying Officers Don Thom, “Erroll” Flynn and Don Donaldson, Army Lieutenant John Hyde-Thompson and two Fleet Air Arm lieutenants, Alan Cheetham and John Davies. They all arrived from underground incarceration in the old fortress of Thorn in Poland where they had been sent from Spangenburg as a reprisal for the alleged crowded and insanitary conditions of imprisonment of German officers at Fort Henry, Ontario, Canada.

  From Thorn, Thom, Donaldson and Flynn had escaped and, dressed as German air mechanics, had tried unsuccessfully to steal an enemy plane. Hyde-Thompson had also escaped from Thorn and was eight days at liberty before recapture. The two Fleet Air Arm officers had discovered an old escape-tunnel working which they followed only to emerge facing the muzzle of a machine-gun.

  On Sunday evening, 26 April, after some high-spirited singing around the piano, Peter Storie-Pugh started halloaing from a dormitory window after lights-out. He was brought to his senses by a bullet which splintered the glass above his head and sent him ducking for cover. This would duly be made a serious cause of complaint by the SBO. In reality Peter was, of course, goading the German sentry.