_________________________________________________ BRITISH AIR ACE DESCRIBES HIS LAST TRIP OVER FRANCE
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Like Drawing Cork Knocked Out |
Bader doesn't mention it here but shortly after being shot down he was hosted by Adolf Galland and some pilot's from JG-26. They talked for hours, Bader even getting to sit in a 109, although Galland politely refused his request to take it for a spin. He did however arrange - through the Red Cross - for a new set of legs to be sent over from England. Galland granted safe passage to the plane dropping the legs over his 'drome but that's not all the Allies dropped. Showing poor "sportsmanship" they dropped bombs as well. |
Wanted to Operate
When the artificial leg came off in the plane, I had badly bruised my
own bit of leg, which had in a very limited area produced a large swelling
like a tennis ball.
The German doctor seemed to want to operate on me.
The last thing I wanted was anybody, particularly a German doctor, playing
around with what was left of my legs, since they had been extremely well
amputated in the beginning, The thought of this fellow leaving a scar
which probably would cause endless trouble in the future loomed largely
in my mind.
I suppose I was not exactly normal, because I demanded a letter form and
wrote to my wife, asking her to arrange to have me repatriated quickly,
since I feared for my legs, or what remained of them.
In my complete ignorance I imagined that my letter would take about three
or four days to get home instead of the odd month or two, as in fact was
the case.
The amusing thing subsequently about this injury was that it disappeared
in two days.
Requests New Leg
A few days later some German pilots game in, to see me. One of them who
spoke English told me that they had heard about me but did not believe
it until they actually saw me. He then said, "It would never be allowed
in the Luftwaffe" — a typical German observation.
I said to this fellow, "For heavens sake, radio a message to England
asking them to drop me another right leg," and at the same time would
he send out some Luftwaffe bodies to try to find the leg which I had left
with my Spitfire.
_______________________ Part 2 __________________________
In the afternoon a German officer turned up with a German soldier, who walked into the room and stood stiffly to attention, holding in his outstretched hand a tin leg that appeared to have "had it."
Leg Is Repaired
The shin was broken and the foot was buckled back up against the shin.
More by way of a joke than anything else, I asked the officer could he
not get it repaired.
To my considerable, surprise and joy, he said, "Of course,"
without a trace of a smile.
The next day the same two appeared with my leg in sufficient working order
for me to walk on it.
The Germans invariably moved prisoners of war back to Germany before they
were physically fit to travel, but of course, not so bad as to make the
journey damaging to their health. Therefore, the likelihood of escaping
was cut down to nil. I believe I was the only person who escaped from
the hospital at St. Omer, not through any cleverness on my part, but because
I managed to stay long enough to be able physically to make the attempt.
Makes Preparations
The first night I very ostentatiously put my clothes on a chair beside
my bed, removed my legs and leaned them up against the same chair. I was
anxious that the Germans should not think of removing my clothes each
night. It did not then occur to me they ever would remove my legs.
The important thing now was to try to contact some helpful French person
outside the hospital. This could be done only through the medium of one
of the French girls who came up to our room three times a day.
When one must talk quickly and in whispers, it is necessary to know a
language fluently. After one shot at this I decided that it was better
to commit it to paper.
Promise of Help
This was effective. One girl, Lucille de Backer, brought me back a letter
from two persons in St. Omer, M. and Madame Hiecque, who begged me to
come and hide with them.
They would help me and send (I think) their son to meet me at the hospital
gate.
The only thing I had to do, which sounds easy if you say it quickly, was
to get out of the hospital. The mistake I made was of being in too much
of a hurry.
Lucille was actually in touch with what she described as "les agents
Anglais." She said they were in a small town ten miles away.
Unfortunately, she could not go there until Sunday, her day off, so it
was necessary for me to remain in the hospital until at least the following
Monday.
Supper With Germans
I had arrived on Saturday, August 9, and on the following Tuesday I was
invited by the German wing commander, who had the fighter wing near Wissant
(between Calais and Boulogne), to have supper in their mess.
I was taken by car with a German officer who spoke English, and spent
a pleasant, if slightly formal, few hours.
The next morning Lucille told me that she would proceed to the town where
were "les agents Anglais."
However, my hopes were shattered that same evening when a German came
into the room and said: "Tomorrow at 8 o'clock you will leave for
Germany."
Now, in a letter which I had received from Madame Hiecque she had stated
that her son would be outside the hospital late each night between 1:30
a.m. and 2 a.m., and that he would stand on the opposite side of the street
smoking a cigarette.
There was, of course, a curfew in St. Omer, but the son worked on the
railway and was permitted, therefore, to be out at all hours of the night.
Our room in the hospital was on the third floor, approximately 40 feet
above the ground.
The entrance to the hospital was by a double-doored gateway, the doors
of which were not locked at night.
It was, therefore, only necessary for me to climb out of the window, down
to the ground and walk out.
There was nothing but to tie sheets together and hope they would be long
and strong enough.
We settled down for the night. Bill Hall, an injured British' pilot who
was in the same ward, was awake, and we talked intermittently. At about
1.30 a.m. we started to make a certain amount of deliberate noise, coughing
and moving about in bed so that the springs creaked, etc.
I then got up and put on my legs and battle dress. The awkward moment
had arrived.
Elephant in Boots
Now, a man on two artificial legs trying to walk quietly on a creaking
wooden floor is rather like-an elephant in hobnailed boots trying to do
the same thing.
I only had about five small paces from my bed to the window, but the noise
I made seemed to be positively shattering.
I flung the sheets out of the window, made an even louder noise getting
myself out of the window, and finally having got onto my rope, away I
went.
Passing the German doctor's window — I was above his room —
I was horrified to find it open, but I sat on his window sill for a few
moments to recover.
Finally I arrived with rather a clatter on the stone veranda.
I found the gates open and saw my Frenchman opposite smoking his cigarette.
Started To Giggle
I walked off down the street and he joined me and then took charge. Walking
through this strange small town in the middle of the night with a chap
whose language I scarcely knew, with my repaired right leg making the
most frightful noise, struck me as being just like a scene from a play.
I started to giggle.
My friend was extremely sensible, and cautious. Every time we approached
a side turning or crossroads, he would shove me up against the wall and
go on himself and have a look.
We walked a good long way to a house on the edge of St. Omer. My friend
carried me the last 200 yards owing to trouble with my right leg.
The old man and woman who greeted me on arrival were a couple of French
peasants. They kissed me warmly and took me upstairs to a large and comfortable
double bed.
________________________ Part 3 _________________________
I slept soundly on my first night of freedom in the cottage of M. and Mme. Hiecque outside St. Omer and woke up about seven o'clock.
Reports Progress
The old woman went into St. Omer report progress. She came back about
an hour later and told me that the Germans were being very stupid, that
they had cordoned off a small area round the hospital from which I had
escaped and were conducting a house-to-house search.
The area did not extend anywhere near her house and everything seemed
to be all right.
Later in the morning a married daughter came over to visit her. I explained
that I was anxious to get in touch with someone who could assist me. I
understood her to say that her husband was, in fact, an Englishman who
after the last war had become a naturalized Frenchman.
Misses Contact
He, however, was working until 6 p.m., and therefore I could not see him
until after that hour.
That I never contacted this man was extremely unfortunate, because I know
now that one of my pilots, Flight-Lieut. Crowley-Milling (now wing-commander),
had been shot down some days after me. He never was picked up by the Germans,
was hiding in St. Omer with the deliberate intention of trying to get
me out of the hospital and was actually standing watching the Germans
do their house-to-house search dressed as a French civilian blacksmith's
boy!
Crow1ey-Milling, subsequently having made quite certain in a typically
unselfish manner that I actually had been taken to Germany, made his own
way back to England. 'En route, he was put into a Spanish concentration
camp, where there were a number of other English flyers. The commandant
of the concentration camp was a German. Spain of course, was neutral!
In the afternoon Madame Hiecque went back into the town to see how the
Germans were getting on. I went into the garden with the old boy.
Gets Spare Leg
We saw a "sweep" come in with some Blenheims and a Spitfire
and Hurricane escort. It was this sweep which dropped my spare right leg.
About 7 or 8 p.m., some Germans started hammering on the door.
I went into the garden and the old man hid me in a sort of open tool shed,
piling straw and stuff, on top of me.
After a time I heard some German voices in the garden. A fellow came and
poked about the straw with a rifle butt, actually hitting me several times,
but astonishingly, not discovering me.
Unfortunately, about 15 minutes later; another busy German came along
and winkled me out.
I stood up and found a very excited young Luftwaffe soldier with his rifle
pointing at me and shouting to about five comrades who appeared from various
parts of the garden, two of them armed with Tommy guns. There was a sergeant,
who spoke very good English, with a revolver.
Protects Old Couple
As I was escorted through the house, the old lady turned up. I pretended
complete non-recognition of the two old people and told the German sergeant
that I had come into the garden through the gate in the wall and had hidden
in the shed on my own initiative. I added that the old couple knew nothing
about it.
He said he understood. However, it was all in vain because by the front
door, getting out of a car with a German, was one of the French girls
from the hospital kitchen.
She had betrayed my whereabouts to the Germans and brought them to the
house.
Subsequently, I learned that she had turned 100 per cent, collaborationist
with the Germans and is now in prison.
The Germans took me to their local headquarters in St. Omer. They put
me into a room with the doors and windows shut, took away my legs and
put two sentries with loaded rifles in the room with me for the night.
Ignominious Parade
Next morning I was taken in an ambulance, escorted by an officer and three
armed guards. I was not allowed my legs and we drove to Brussels, where
two guards carried me across the square in front of the station. One carried
my legs, and the officer strutted along in front. It was one of the most
ignominious performances I have had to undergo.
We got into a second-class carriage and took off for Frankfort. We arrived
at Frankfort about midnight. Here we were met by a Luftwaffe Feldwebel
(sergeant), who spoke English with a strong American accent.
He had lived in the U.S.A. for 17 years and was reputed to have been a
sheriff for a time. We drove out to Dulag Luft, four miles from Frankfort
- my first prison camp.
________________________ Part 4_________________________
I was taken into a stone building and put into a cell. In the morning a Hun officer who spoke fluent English came in with a Red Cross form. His name was Eberhardt and he had been educated at London University.
Wanted Information
He asked me if I would fill in the form, since the Red Cross wished to
have it as soon as possible so that they could communicate with my relations.
At the top it had the Red Cross sign and written in English down the left-hand
side were the, following: Name, rank, squadron, type of aeroplane you
were flying, name of airfield from which you took off, etc. — in
other words all the information that the Germans, not the Red Cross, wanted
to know.
I glanced at the form, wrote my name, rank and service number on it and
gave it back to him.
He started to remonstrate with me, saying that if I only would fill in
all the details, my letters would get home much more quickly, etc., so
I told him that the information I had given was all I intended to give
and what I wanted from him was a bath and my legs.
Commandant Appears
He said he could do nothing about it, but that he would tell the commandant.
In due course the commandant appeared. He spoke English very well.
He also tried to gain information from me about various types of aeroplanes.
The interview ended rather abruptly when he was expressing sorrow that
the British and Germans never could seem to fight on the same side, and
said, "Of course, we know you call us Jerries," and I replied,
"No we don't: We call you Huns."
Asks For Tea, Legs
He rushed from the room with me shouting after him "Send me my legs
and some tea."
Ten minutes later an orderly arrived with my legs, a towel and some soap
and took me to the bathroom.
When I came back to my room the orderly brought me on a tray English tea
with milk and sugar and some bread, butter and jam.
It seemed that the rather small German officer staff at Dulag Luft had
cornered quite a lot of the B. E. F. supplies captured in France.
Shortly after this I was taken over into the English side of the camp.
Dulag Luft was a transit camp. All captured air crews were brought here
straight away, interrogated by the Germans and kept until there was a
sufficient number to be transported to a permanent camp.
It was a pretty comfortable camp on the whole, because there were never
very many people there.
Eighteen Escape
Just before I arrived a tunnel had been dug and 18 officers had escaped.
All had been recaptured and sent off to one of the permanent camps on
the Baltic.
The difficulty in organizing an escape, as I discovered, was the comparatively
short time that the majority were likely to stay in the camp and the fact
that there was certainly one Englishman, and possibly two, working for
the Germans.
There were one or two others who, while not actually traitors, were apathetic
in regard to assisting in escape projects.
The German authorities court-martialed the German hospital staff in St.
Omer for permitting me to escape and believe it or not, I was sent for
as a witness against the staff.
The court-martial took place in Brussels, whither I was taken by a German
under-officer who spoke English and a couple of guards.
Warned For Court
The Germans, true to type, came to me and said that the following day
I had to go to Brussels for a court-martial. When I asked why I was being
court-martialed — because naturally I supposed that I was the victim
— I was told that they had no information other than to take me
to Brussels.
We got to Brussels in the evening, and I was taken to the civilian jail.
I was led down a corridor to a cell. I refused to go in because I said
I was not a civilian criminal but a British officer and I wanted accommodation
as such.
The Luftwaffe interpreter became very embarrassed and apologetic, but
said he had had strict orders that I was not to escape or he would be
shot.
Furnish Cell
I did not finally consent to go into the cell until the N.C.O. in charge
of the prison had had a table put in and a cloth on it, had given me a
German batman and said that they would leave the door open.
When my German interpreter had got to the state of sweating profusely
and being disgustingly subservient, I finally said that I would stay in
the cell. He then left.
My German batman came and made the bed, which has a plank off the wall,
and made me some tea — that is to say, I provided the tea and he
the hot water.
When he left, I put the stool on top of the table and got up to look out
of the small window to see if there was any possibility of getting out,
since I was on the ground floor. However, the bars were too solid. Just
when I was standing on top of everything, feeling the bars, my German
batman walked in.
He helped me down, put the furniture back in place, and then went out.
I went to bed.
Recognizes Staff
In the morning I was taken down to a fairly large house in the town and
into a large room, at the end of which the court was sitting, consisting
of three officers of general rank (one Luftwaffe and two army) and three
other Luftwaffe officers.
At the other end of the room I recognized the St. Omer German hospital
staff, whom I had to pass on my way in. I gave them a cheerful greeting,
but received frozen stares in reply.
Then I realized it was not I who was being court-martialed, but they!
They brought a chair for me to sit down, but I said I would rather stand.
The interpreter then asked me to give my word of honor that I would speak
the truth.
I told him that I certainly would not speak the truth, and this seemed
to embarrass him. He asked me again, and I again refused and said, "Go
on, tell the court what I have said," which he did. The question
came back, "Why?" I replied that if they were going to ask me
anything about the French I would lie.
Not On Oath
I was told then I would not be asked anything about the French, as they
already had been punished. I thereupon said I was quite prepared to tell
the truth.
This was translated duly to the court and I received the astonishing reply
that it didn't matter anyhow — I needn't give evidence on oath!
I soon discovered that the real job of this court was to try to apportion
blame for my escape, so I said that the hospital staff had been very good
to me and that in my opinion there was no carelessness on their part.
It was easy to be wise after the event, but they could hardly foresee
my attempting to escape the way I did.
Matter of Routine
I left the room and a long wait ensued. Then the Luftwaffe general who
was president of the court came in to see me with the interpreter alone,
when I explained more informally to him what I felt about punishing the
hospital staff.
He was very reasonable; and said they had not the slightest intention
of doing so and the court-martial was more a matter of routine than anything
else.
The party broke up at about 5 o'clock and we went downstairs and out,
passing in the hall the senior doctor and a nurse, who gave me a most
friendly greeting instead of the previous frozen looks, so it was quite
clear they had all got off.
________________________ Part 5_________________________
Lubeck was the worst prison camp I came across in Germany.
There was no Red Cross food and the German ration actually was stolen
by the German staff before it ever came to be issued to us. It was about
a mile from the port of Lubeck, on top of a sort of sand dune.
Unpleasant Gentleman
The commandant was an unpleasant gentleman who said that he had not got
any copies of the Geneva Convention, which he did not know anything about
anyhow.
He would not permit letters to be sent to the protecting power for the
first month or so because, he said, the senior British officer should
wait until the camp had settled and got working.
The senior British officer was an extremely good sapper Lieutenant-Colonel
George Young. He had formed his own commando unit in the Middle East,
which he led through the Abyssinian campaign and later landed on Crete
in the final stages of that debacle, as a result of which he became a
prisoner of war.
George Young fought the Germans at Lubeck — as far as it is possible
for any senior British officer who is in prison behind barbed wire and
has no arms nor, in the Germans eyes, right to fight.
Burn German Mess
The climax came when a British bomber in trouble unloaded a basket of
incendiaries on the German officers' mess, outside the camp.
This was very satisfying to the prisoners, since it destroyed the mess.
The commandant ordered British troops to help with the repairing of the
damage. George Young refused to allow the work on the grounds that it
was war work.
The result, however, was the same as far as I can remember — the
British troops were made to work by force and George Young was put in
the cells.
The Germans made no attempt to keep the Geneva Convention. Indeed, there
are authentic cases of German commandants stating (1) that "the Geneva
convention was inaugurated by a lot of 'old women' who did not know anything
about war" (Commandant Laufen, 1940); and (2) "it was only meant
for small wars and could not possibly 'be applied to a world war"
as was going on at the time (Commandant Colditz, 1942).
Kept Some Points
The Germans used to keep some points of this convention for the simple
reason that they could not avoid it. For example, they gave one a roof
over one's head, beds, coal, etc., but in order that you should know that
it was their hospitality, they gave insufficient coal, insufficient blankets.
A typical German restriction was that any sort of space where prisoners
arranged football pitches or cricket pitches, was bounded invariably on
one side by a trip wire. The result was that the ball repeatedly was going
into the no-man's land between the trip wire and the main fence round
the camp.
No German commandant ever would issue an order to the guards not to shoot
at prisoners collecting a ball from this "dead" ground.
A guard would ignore a prisoner fetching a ball four or five times and
the sixth time he would fire at him. This actually happened once to my
certain knowledge and probably a good many other times — at Oflag
VI B.
The astonished and incensed prisoners who had been playing the game went
across to the guard who had fired and asked him what he thought he was
doing that he should have ignored the incident five times and then decided
to fire at the sixth.
The guard replied that he had been waiting until he could get a good shot!
At Lubeck a guard did much the same thing and wounded an Englishman in
the thigh from close range. A German sergeant who had watched the incident
rushed up and shook the guard by the hand — a very civilized gesture.
Early in October, 1941, the Germans concentrated in one camp all the British
officer prisoners then in Germany, with the exception of a few hundred
R.A.F. officers.
This camp was Oflag VI B., situated at Dossel, a short distance from Cassel.
Cramped Accommodation
There was badly cramped accommodation, primitive and extremely inadequate
sanitary conditions and a thoroughly unpleasant German staff.
I was not in this camp long enough to get to know everybody, although
I got to know some people very well, in particular some of the officers
of the K.R.R. and Rifle Brigade, whom I met again subsequently in Oflag
IV C.
I mention these chaps particularly because three of them, Charlie Hopetoun,
Phil Pardoe and Martin Gilliat, produced the funniest performance I witnessed
in Germany.
The scene was the parade ground and the time 6 p.m., May 9, when parade
was ending. For parades the camp was divided into five battalions.
Harger, the German officer in charge of the Army battalion, was known
as the Horrible Harger, plus a good deal more which is unprintable.
This HA caused an incident almost every day, some funny and some dangerous,
but the British always managed to get a rise out of him.
Hampered Chase
This evening, a moment before we were dismissed, a terrific noise suddenly
occurred. On to our parade ground, literally as the order to dismiss was
given, marched Charlie blowing a trumpet, Phil beating a large drum, somehow
slung round him, and Martin making the most frightful noise on a large
French horn.
We all gathered round and Harger, plus a very small guard only about half
the size of his rifle, started trying to catch these three. They were
hampered considerably by other prisoners getting in the way.
However, Harger caught up with Charlie and snatched the instrument from
his mouth. He turned to give it to the guard and Charlie, took off his
glasses and stepped smartly into the crowd so that when Harger turned
round to get his name, he had gone.
Hands Over Drum
Meanwhile Phil and Martin, in order to create the maximum diversion, were
banging and blowing their instruments literally in the German officer's
ear. Harger whipped round on Phil and said, "Give me that drum!"
which Phil promptly did. The Hun received this enormous drum; which required
two hands to hold.
While he was trying to push it off on to the guard, Phil mingled with
the crowd and the second name was gone.
Meanwhile, Martin and his French horn still were going strong. When he
saw the German advancing on him, he slid it down over his body to the
ground and just stepped out into the crowd.
The ludicrous sight then was seen of a small guard trying to carry a rifle
with fixed bayonet, a French horn, a large drum and a trumpet, with the
German officer carrying nothing except a notebook and pencil with no names
to write in it, surrounded by about 400 cheering British officers.
Want To Be Alone
The crowd naturally increased as these two moved across the camp to the
exit and eventually there was such a mob that the German asked through
an interpreter for the senior British officer.
When the latter turned up, the German said he could not make out why all
the British officers were surrounding him and that he wished to be alone.
So the British officer offered to provide him with a British escort, if
he would feel safer, to take him out of the camp,
This, of course, brought the house down. He eventually made the nearest
gate.
________________________ Part 6_________________________
One cannot finish with Oflag VI-B without mentioning
what was in my opinion the most brilliant escape conception of this war.
Two of the people closely connected with it were Major Tom Stallard,,
of the D.L.I., and Capt. David Walker, of the Black Watch.
Plan Short Circuit
The scheme was to fuse the perimeter lights and searchlights and to make
a mass break over the wire.
It was necessary to build scaling ladders to get over the wire, with an
extension in the shape of a plank which would fall across the double barbed
wire fence so that the fugitives could run up the ladder, across the wire
by the plank and jump down the other side to freedom.
It was expected that the lights could be fused only for a very short time
and the drill was planned for this. In actual fact, the fusing was a roaring
success, since the lights went out and remained out the whole night.
Thirty Get Away
The intended number of officers did not get away, but I believe 30 cleared
the wire, of whom three got back to England, Captain Coombe Tennant, Major
Arkwright and Major Fuller. Several others got a long way before they
were caught. Tom Stallard and Dick Page had a perfect trip until they
were discovered hiding during the day on the German-Dutch frontier preparatory
to crossing that night.
Like so many escapees, they were discovered by children on a Sunday afternoon.
On May 11, 50 air force officers, including myself, left VI-B for Sagan,
in Silesia (Luft III).
Two Attempts Fail
The journey, which took about 36 hours, was marred only by the failure
of two attempts to escape. One was by sawing a hole in the floor of a
third-class carriage — actually completed in spite of guards being
in the carriage and the other a dive out of a window by two officers.
The window-jumpers' last chance came before the hole in the floor was
completed and neither attempt came off because the train did not stop
again.
Stalag Luft III was a new camp. The Luftwaffe was unpleasant as always.
There were several instances of guards firing into the camp for no reason.
Aided Escape Trials
There were two English-speaking German officers in the camp. They both
subsequently traded with the prisoners and assisted escape attempts by
providing passport photographs, etc. One, I heard, was shot.
From there, in due course, I passed to Lamsdorf VIII-B, with Flight-Lieut.
John Palmer. Lamsdorf was a camp for other ranks, but there was a good
British hospital.
It is much easier to escape from a soldiers' camp than from an officers'
camp because the soldiers are taken out on working parties.
After I had been there four or five weeks I was told that a working party
was required for light work on an airfield at Gleiwitz, on the German-Polish
frontier. Johnny and I decided that this was right up our street. The
only difficulty was to get out of the camp.
The hut in which Johnny and I were living was next to the one where the
working parties were searched.
Change Places
The arrangement was that the two soldiers whose identity we were going
to take would go in and be searched with the working party. The working
party would come out in a bunch and congregate outside the door before
the Germans formed up and marched them out.
Johnny and I, dressed as soldiers, would be sweeping the path and we would
step into the crowd outside the door of the hut.
Our two opposite numbers would step out, take our brooms and continue
sweeping.
The whole thing worked like a charm. We formed up and marched out of the
camp with the German guards.
Our intention was to obtain an aeroplane and fly to Sweden, 350 Miles.
If we decided that this was not possible, we intended to escape into Poland
on foot.
When we got to the airfield, we were billeted in huts on the edge of the
camp. Two guards patrolled the compound.
Eager To Help
A Palestinian Jew of Polish extraction who was with us, talked to the
guards. He discovered that some of them were Polish. They were eager to
help us. As our immediate prospects of getting out seemed so good, we
thought there was no point in delaying to see if we could get an aeroplane.
We were afraid that any moment the hunt would be up because we had no
means of knowing whether the Germans in Lamsdorf had discovered our absence.
The Polish guards would not let us out when there were two Poles on duty,
since the Germans would suspect collusion and shoot them both. It was
necessary to have one Pole and one German guard on duty to cover this.
On Sunday afternoon we had the sad news the Polish contingent was not
on duty on Monday and that the first night it could be done was Wednesday.
Slow Falls
The weather was marvelous and Monday passed without incident — and
most of Tuesday. Then the blow fell, at six p.m. we were all ordered on
parade. This was unusual.
The goons ordered us to remove our trousers and while the chaps were perfectly
prepared to argue the toss, it only could delay matters and perhaps cause
somebody to get hurt. They obviously were looking for me and I gave myself
up.
They asked if Johnny was there, too, and he gave himself up.
Johnny and I then were marched away by a German Luftwaffe major and lodged
in the German guardroom. The next morning we were taken back to Lamsdorf.
Our arrival back was funny. As Johnny and I walked in at the gates, we
saw a lot of goon soldiers with their noses pressed against the windows
of their huts.
We were taken into the guardroom and, like a tornado, the German commandant
arrived on the scene.
Shakes With Rage
He was absolutely shaking with rage, waving his arms and behaving like
a real caricature of a Prussian Johnny and I didn't help matters by starting
to giggle. There was a sweating German interpreter with him who told me
that the commandant said it me disgraceful for me to escape dressed as
a private soldier. It was not the act of an officer and I had caused a
great deal of trouble.
I told the interpreter to tell the commandant that I was perfectly entitled
to escape how I liked and that anyhow it was my job to cause him trouble.
I don't know if the interpreter told him this literally, but what ever
he said I thought the commandant was going to burst a blood vessel. Johnny
and I were hurried along to the cells.
Our treatment in the cells good. We not only were given Red Cross food,
but I also was given a batman. His name was Alec Ross and he was a Seaforth
Highlander. He stayed with me until the bitter end and was absolutely
invaluable.
When he had been in the cells nine days, the commandant came to see me
with an interpreter and in a formal and pompous fashion, told me that
the following morning, I was going to an officer's camp IV-C at Colditz.
I replied, "Ah, you mean the Straafelager" (shooting camp),
and he said, "Nein, nein, offizierlager" (officer's internment
camp).
In the usual early hours of the morning, Ross and I departed.
________________________ Part 7_________________________
We arrived at Oflag IV-C, at Colditz, after dark. Its position is approximately 28 miles southeast of Leipzig.
Imposing Castle
As we walked out of the station, we looked up the hill and saw the castle,
floodlit and very imposing, about 150 feet above our heads.
The original part of this castle was built by Augustus the Strong several
hundred years ago. I don't know anything about Augustus the Strong, except
that he was reputed to have had 356 illegitimate children living in or
around Colditz.
The prisoners lived around a closed courtyard, the area of which was 42
yards by 22 yards. The walls were about 60 feet high. The outer walls
dropped straight down to the riverside and on the other side into a wooded
slope which formed one side of a steep wooded quarry.
Typical Fortress
Looking at it from the west, the castle appeared to be set in the side
of a hill. It was a typical fortress of the Middle Ages, the walls being
incredibly thick. All the windows had thick iron in them.
The German treatment of prisoners in Colditz was better than in any other
camp I had been in. But overshadowing everything else was the extreme
confinement imposed on us.
The Germans were firmly convinced that all the prisoners were criminal
types and, therefore; highly dangerous. As a result; they were inclined
to get excited and shoot off their guns. The amazing thing was that nobody
was killed.
When I arrived, there were approximately 200 French, 16 Belgians, 50 Dutch,
50 Poles and 80 Britons in the camp. The morale was terrific.
Outstanding Men
There were two outstanding personalities among the British, both of whom
had spent nearly all their captivity at Colditz — Captain Dick Howe,
of the Royal Tank Corps, and Major W. Anderson, a sapper.
Dick knew every nook of the castle and was brilliant at organizing other
people's escapes. He could turn his hand to forging, photography, the
making of keys — in fact anything.
Andy was a practical sapper. He could make anything with his hands and
it was amazing to see him carving, with an ordinary penknife, a German
official stamp from a piece of wood.
From the point of view of a practical escaper, Lieut. Mike Sinclair, Rifle
Brigade, was in a class by himself. He made five escape attempts from
IV-C.
On the first occasion he was taken in Cologne just after a heavy R.A.F.
raid. He was dressed in R.A.F. uniform made into a civilian suit and,
I believe, just made the police station ahead of an infuriated crowd.
The second time he was taken on the Swiss frontier, the third on the German-Dutch
frontier. On the fourth he was shot and wounded in the grounds of the
castle and on the fifth occasion, in broad daylight, was killed.
Entirely British
In the summer of 1943, the camp became entirely British and prisoners
from one of the large southern camps turned up, among whom were a number
of old friends from VI-B.
These officers had escaped by tunnel from their camp and had been recaptured.
I don't know the details of the tunnel, but it was a remarkable engineering
feat, being constructed in the one part of the camp which the Germans
considered impossible. It was dug uphill.
At that time, it was the all-time record for numbers getting out in one
escape and the repercussions were interesting.
The Germans turned out the whole of their Home Guard for a considerable
area around the camp. There were amusing stories about the chaps walking
along quite confidently and suddenly, being held up by an old civilian
with a duck gun.
Many laughable incidents occurred when these escapees were collected in
villages round about. They all had considerable quantities of British
Red Cross food, chocolate, etc., such as the Germans had not seen for
many years. In many cases they were entertained hospitably, while awaiting
transport, by the locals, who brewed them tea and fried them eggs.
The prisoners were determined that no food should get back into the hands
of the camp authorities, so they distributed it among the villagers.
There were wonderful scenes of children and villagers following the lorry
conveying the prisoners, the British throwing all perishable foodstuffs
for them to pick up. The camp authorities were incensed about this but
could do nothing,
For a number of days these officers were shut in a sort of dungeon outside
their camp and the Germans were extremely spiteful and unpleasant.
For instance, Jack Fawcus, the steeplechase jockey, who, in spite of ill-health,
had insisted on taking part in this escape, was refused medical treatment.
By the time he arrived at Colditz, he was in a bad way.
Escape Attempt
A Frenchman made one very amusing escape attempt. There was a German civilian
electrician who frequently came into the camp.
His name was Willie. The prisoners got to know him well. He was the most
terrific racketeer. He would bring in eggs, bottles of wine, petrol for
lighters and all the normal sort of stuff we couldn't get, in exchange
for cigarettes.
He always wore a cap in which he would put an incredible number of cigarettes
and walk out with the whole lot on his head, looking quite normal.
He always was dressed in blue overalls. A Frenchman came to the conclusion
that he could make himself look exactly like Willie, which he proceeded
to do. One day, about an hour after Willie had come into the camp, the
Frenchman walked out.
He had the most shocking luck because, as he was walking across the outer
courtyard, a German soldier, mistaking him for Willie, stopped him and
asked him if he had repaired the lighter he had given him.
This, of course, gave the show away because the Frenchman was no German
scholar and as he opened his mouth, he was caught.
________________________ Part 8_________________________
One completely successful escape worth relating was made by four British officers, Major Littledale, Lieut.-Cmdr. Stevens, R.N.V.R.; Capt. Reid, R.A.S.C., and Flight-Lieut. Wardell, a Canadian in the R.A.F.
Sawed Window Bar
The windows of the kitchen we used looked out on one side into the outer
courtyard, which was the German side of the castle. This kitchen was locked
normally about
4.30 p.m.
During the day the officers concerned had sawed a bar in one of the windows
to permit them to climb out of the window into the courtyard.
Their intention was to walk across this courtyard into the German-occupied
part of the castle on the other side and then get through an unbarred
window on the far side into, the moat. This was, in fact, not a moat,
but a banked ditch, beyond which there was no obstruction to their exit.
They arranged to do this at night, the difficulty being that the outer
courtyard was floodlit. But they could get across the floodlit area into
some bushes on the other side before attempting to get into the German
wing.
There was a sentry walking up and down the floodlit part, but they reckoned
that they could cross this floodlit strip when his back was turned, since
the width to cover was only about seven yards.
Tricky Proceeding
It was tricky, however, because they could not see the sentry, owing to
a protruding part of the building. It was necessary, therefore, to arrange
a method of signaling.
It was decided that music was the best method. So George Young and Andy
played the concertina and oboe together in my room, the window of which
was in a suitable position.
The arrangement was that while the music was being played, it was all
clear. When it stopped, the guard was looking, or vice-versa, I have forgotten.
George and Andy kicked up the most frightful row nightly for some time
before the event took place so as to pet the guards used to the noise.
Works Like Charm
On that night, everything worked like a charm, although, it was agony
to the few people watching to see these chaps, one by one, going across
the floodlit court yard slowly and praying that the guard would not turn
round.
I have not heard the other end of the story, but we all thought that -
largely through the resourcefulness of Pat Reid, who, should he take up
house-breaking as a profession will be quite unsurpassed - they forced
their way into the German wing.
Pat had to pick a door lock to get in, within earshot of the guard and
with the possibility of being seen by stray goons coming back after being
out for the evening.
Within five days, all four were in Switzerland. Ronnie Littledale was
killed later in France after the invasion. His prison life was one long
series of escapes, during which he had the most astonishing good luck,
although, until his final success, he invariably was brought back.
Example of Luck
One example of his luck is worth mentioning. He had escaped from Posen
in company with Mike Sinclair. They had been caught somewhere in Poland
or one of the Balkan countries and were being brought to Colditz by train.
They decided to have a shot at jumping off the train, which they did when
it was stationary. Mike Sinclair hurt his ankle jumping off and was unable
to get very far before being caught.
Meanwhile, Ronnie jumped up between two carriages and was standing on
the buffers, hoping that they would not see him, so that when they gave
up looking and the train started, he could get off and carry on.
The officials came along the train looking quite casually in between the
carriages and underneath them. As they came to the spot where Ronnie was,
the train lets out a puff of steam which obscured him completely from
their view as they went past.
Boy To Rescue
When Ronnie got off the train, he found his way to a local goon village
and got into conversation with a small boy, who, when it was mentioned
that Ronnie was an escaping British officer, said, "But my mother
helps people like you," and took him along.
I cannot vouch for the truth of this part of the story, but Ronnie remained
away for some months, being caught eventually in Prague after the murder
of Heydrich when the Germans were making a special scrutiny of everybody's
papers, Ronnie never having any papers, anyhow.
In time more old friends turned up in the shape of Lieut-Colonel "Tubby"
Broomhall (well known in sapper circles), Captain Hector Christie (Gordons)
and Captain Lawrence Pope.
These three had affected a particularly amusing escape from the same camp
as the sixty-five tunnelers, which again misfired through bad luck.
Posed As General
Broomhall was dressed as a German general in correct uniform; complete
with a broad red stripe down his breeches abroad a suitable number of
decorations on his tunic. Pope, who spoke fluent German, was dressed as
a German Captain, the general's aide de camp.
Hector Christie was, I think, a civilian building surveyor, the impression
created being that of a General examining the camp with a view to possible
improvement or otherwise.
They were relying on the General's rank being sufficient to cow the guard,
whom they had to pass to get out.
It not only accomplished this with considerable success and no trouble,
but unfortunately, it did worse because the guard, obviously hoping to
impress the commandant with his keenness, telephoned the commandant's
office and informed him that the general had just left.
This naturally caused the balloons to go up. The three British officers
were caught not far away. I believe the sight of "Tubby" Broomhall
surreptitiously getting rid of various goon decorations on the way back,
so as not to offend the Germans, was funny.
________________________ Part 9_________________________
We were fortunate in Oflag IV-C at Colditz in having a radio set. With secrecy and care we were able to get the English news bulletin each day.
Elaborate System
There was a very elaborate system of security while the news bulletin
was being taken, and the Germans never found out.
The last week or so we were getting bulletins all the time. We understood
also that the German guards were listening in to the London news.
In January, 1942, Peter Dollar arrived at Colditz. He had been removed
from another camp for putting up a rude notice. He spent 30 days in the
cells and was then sent to Colditz.
The reason behind this sentence was typically German. A report had reached
them that some German officer prisoners of war had been mishandled in
a ship conveying them from the Middle East to South Africa.
The Germans ordered that the British camp containing the largest number
of senior officers should be singled out for reprisal. They removed all
badges of rank from every officer, all their belongings except the clothes
they stood up in, all soap, razors, toothbrushes, washing material, etc.,
and all orderlies.
This remained in force for one month, and was extremely uncomfortable
for those concerned.
Courts-Martial Common
Courts-martial were fairly common at Colditz, and Peter Dollar was concerned
in a very amusing one. The organization of the camp demanded that a British
officer should be in charge of the parcels coming into the camp. These
were listed by the Germans and distributed by the British parcels officer
on specific days.
This officer, who chose other officers to assist him, worked very efficiently.
The German officer in charge of this section did his best to make everything
as awkward as possible and he was thoroughly inefficient.
One day Peter lost his temper and told him that he was not only useless
but raving mad, which an interpreter translated as meaning that the German
was "dumb" and "crazy." Later, Peter was court-martialed
on a charge of insulting a German officer.
Pro-British German
The amusing thing about this court-martial was that the German lawyer
who defended the British at Colditz, and who had been a prisoner in British
hands in World War I, was extremely pro-British. He produced evidence
from German professors of English at Leipzig University that in English
the words "dumb" and "crazy" constituted no insult.
The charge was dismissed, with the proviso that the commandant could punish
Peter summarily. Being a Hun, he did so, and Peter did ten days in the
cells.
We were lucky in having the German lawyer, who genuinely did his best
for us. Also in having a British officer, Alan Campbell, a barrister in
private life, who had a copy of the German military code and used to prepare
the cases.
Obstructions Made
An officer due for a court-martial had every obstruction put in his way
in preparing his defence. When he visited his lawyer it had to be in the
presence of a German interpreter and a member of the German security staff.
Every letter written to his lawyer went through the German kommandantur.
In other words, every argument of the defence was seen and noted by the
prosecution before the case came to trial.
There were, I think, 22 courts-martial of British officers at Colditz.
Every one except two got away with local punishment, thanks chiefly to
Alan Campbell.
Given Run-Around
One man escaped as he was being brought to court-martial. The scene in
court when the prisoner was found to be missing was, I believe, without
parallel. Especially when it was learned that his escort were directed
all over the camp by the British.
They said he had gone to the barber's to have his hair cut to look smart
for the court. At the barber's they were told he had gone to the tailor's
to have his uniform pressed to look smart for the court, and so on round
the camp.
The court was extremely angry, and in his absence, fondly imagining that
he would be recaptured, sentenced him to a term in the cells.
The officer who held the record for the number of courts-martial, I think,
was Flight-Lieut. Peter Tunstall, R.A.F. He had had five with the sixth
pending when the war finished. He got away with local punishments every
time. He was very hostile to the Germans, and they were after his blood.
This officer had rather an original turn of mind. Having had one square
deal at his first court martial in Leipzig, he invariably told the members
of the court that he was very pleased to see them again, since they were
the only people who ever gave him any justice. That always went down very
well indeed.
________________________ Part 10_________________________
In 1943, after the other nations had left, Colditz settled down to being a British camp. There was one regrettable feature — no newly captured prisoners came in, so we were not up to date with current, home gossip.
Got Some News
On the other hand, we got bad boys from other camps that had seen recently
captured prisoners, and therefore we did get a good deal of news second-hand.
In August, 1943, our football and cinema were finally stopped after they
had been going for a short time.
The reason for this was typically German. There had been, introduced into
Oflag IV-C a class of prisoner known as a "Prominent Prisoner."
These were officers related to well-known public figures in England.
Presumably, in the event of things going wrong, the Germans thought they
could use these chaps for bartering. They were specially guarded and were
not allowed to leave the yard of the castle.
Consequently, when the Germans said that we could go out, but not these
officers, we refused, and we never went again.
Allowed Parole
Subsequently, the Germans permitted the prominent prisoners to go out
on parole walks. They were taken out with an equivalent number of guards
with loaded rifles plus an under-officer with a tommy gun.
About this same time the Germans permitted me to go out on parole walks,
since I could not exercise myself in the castle owing to the nature of
the courtyard. When I insisted on taking an English officer out with me
they agreed, provided it was the same officer all the time.
Thus were inaugurated the twice-weekly walks which Peter-Dollar and I
took, and which towards the end of the war, became extremely useful for
reasons that will become apparent later on.
The parole business at first infuriated us because we disliked the idea
of giving our word of honor not to escape and then being sent out with
an armed guard.
At first there were only three prominent prisoners. Charlie Hopetoun,
Giles Romilly and Michael Alexander. Later on came John Elphinstone, George
Lascelles, Doig Haig, de Hamel and, towards the end, John Winant.
Very Nerve-Racking
It was a very nerve-racking business for these prisoners, because, although
they all appeared to regard it as a joke, it must have been extremely
worrying to anybody to feel that he was potential purchasing power for
the goons.
These prisoners were perpetually reminded of their special category by
having to be locked up in their rooms before the other prisoners and by
having guards stationed permanently outside their doors who were liable
to switch the light on and look in at any hour of the night.
When Rommel's armies were drawn up at El Alamein, Rommel had come back
to Berlin to see Hitler on a sort of line-shooting tour.
In a speech in Berlin he said how vastly superior the Germans were to
the British, that the key to Egypt was in German hands and that what they
had they would hold.
Rommel was a fine general and the morale of the German troops under his
command, I believe, was very high. It was a pity, however, that he made
this statement, because like so many boastful utterances which frequently
recoil on the heads of those who make them, it came home to roost.
Rap at Rommel
When the German papers admitted the fall of Tunis, we stuck up in the
courtyard a large notice in German: "Was wir haben halten wir fest"
— Rommel, June, 1942 (?). ("What we have we hold.")
In 1944, we really started to see the R.A.F. and the Americans doing their
stuff in our area. Leipzig got heavily bombed several times and so did
Chemnitz, Plauen, Leuna and Borna (oil centers), and several places within
sound of Colditz.
This was tremendously interesting for us and we used to man the windows
at night watching the firework displays.
The Germans were full of Goebels' propaganda about the British and American
"murder flyers" going for German women and children and not
for militarily important targets.
Day after day, the German communiqués said terror attacks were
made on various German towns, causing considerable damage to dwelling
quarters, hospitals, churches, etc.
We used to remind the German guards of utterances by Nazi leaders in respect
of London in 1940, Coventry, etc. We also referred them to the bombing
of Rotterdam, Belgrade, Warsaw, which usually shut them up.
One day when Peter and I were out for a walk, we were looking up at formations
of Fortresses in the sky.
One of the guards asked why we were bombing civilians, to which we replied
that we were not, but that if they were in military areas it could not
be helped.
Besides, we added, did he not remember that Goering had said, in 1939,
that no enemy aircraft would fly over Germany, and we asked him where
were the German fighters.
________________________ Part 11_________________________
On, I think it was, Saturday, April 14, 1945, a message was brought in by the Germans that we were to evacuate the fortress prison at Colditz.
Refuse to Move
Lieut.-Col. Willie Todd, on our behalf, told the commandant that we refused
to move. We had ascertained from the guards that they would do just whatever
we wanted.
However, the situation did not become acute, because the commandant packed
in, merely saying that if the local commander decided to use the castle
as a strong-point he would move us out a short distance, where we could
be released by Allied troops when they turned up.
On Sunday morning, in a clear sky, American Thunderbolts appeared and
started shooting up the railway, German transport and the odd tanks around
the place. We watched with extreme good humor.
The castle was on a hill almost immediately on the east bank of the River
Mulde, with most of the village of Colditz at the bottom of the hill on
the river bank.
Hear Noise of Battle
Soon we heard the noise of battle away to the north and saw columns of
smoke in the Leipzig direction. We heard a certain amount of noise due
west of us, which was the direction from which, we were expecting relief.
The aeroplanes went away and things remained pretty quiet.
There was a bridge over the river below the castle. We saw the German
Home Guard and a few soldiers mining this bridge, ready to blow it up.
After lunch we saw some gun flashes on the south edge of a large wood
about two miles away over the other side of the river. Then we heard some
armored vehicles moving about.
Some of us went to the top part of the castle, where we could see a battle
between American and German tanks about two miles away.
It was not a very big battle, but it was a remarkable thing to have a
ringside seat.
Peter Dollar and I rushed up.
I went into one room and he went up a ladder into the attic above.
There was a village which we both knew. Most of the houses were in flames.
Blinding Flash
The next thing I saw was a blinding flash in front of my face and I finished
up flat on my back with the plaster falling on me. I raced down into the
courtyard and sheltered in the room which I reckoned was furthest from
the battle. This room belonged to Brigadier Davis, of the Ulster Rifles.
I was not surprised subsequently to see a hole in the top corner of the
window at which I had been standing. A tank shell had struck the castle
wall.
Peter, who had been standing exactly above me with only the thickness
of the floor between us, also had been flung on the floor and had lost
his glasses.
Only one person was hurt by this shell, a Frenchman, who got a splinter,
in the leg.
The point which we had all overlooked was that the tanks were firing at
each other on the rising ground on the other side of the river about 2,000
yards away. It was likely that a miss would hit the castle.
We heard that one had gone through the middle of a window in the German
quarters and badly damaged a German sergeant. After this, Colonel Todd
ordered everybody to remain on the ground floor
Short Engagement
The tank battle did not last long. I believe the Germans withdrew across
the river and the only thing of interest as far as we were concerned was
their persistent efforts to blow the bridge in Colditz.
They made one shot which produced a large bang and a small hole in one
side of the bridge. Then they spent a considerable time shooting their
anti-tank weapons trying to explode the other charge in the bridge. They
did not succeed.
Eventually the noise of battle died down and in typical prisoner of war
fashion, we all sat around, bored, and indeed rather querulous because
the Americans did not seem to be going to relieve us that day after all.
The Germans told us that the Americans were round the back of the castle.
Order Shirts Down
There were a few odd shirts belonging to prisoners of war hanging out
of the windows. We got a message from the German commander that if we
did not take down these white flags, he would shell the castle. They came
down.
After nightfall the Americans brought up a howitzer on the other side
of the river and shelled the village and the German positions behind the
castle.
It was amusing sitting in the castle, hearing the dull noise of the howitzer
firing followed by a whistle as the shell passed exactly over the castle
and then the thud as it struck the ground on the other side.
In the, morning under a blue sky with the sun shining, we saw the village
agleam with white sheets, flags, etc., and a good deal of damage from
the American shelling.
Great Moment
Soon a couple of Americans walked into the camp. It was a great moment.
I think the majority of us found it difficult to realize that we were
about to be freed.
Wandering around, I was told that there was a real live American girl
in the courtyard. We found the girl, Lee Carson — a newspaper correspondent.
She asked me if I would like to come away in a newspaper correspondent's
jeep back to headquarters. I was keen to get back to an American fighter
airfield to have a last crack at the Germans. The correspondents said
they might be able to arrange this.
So we drove off out through the village in the direction of Leipzig.
We found First Army Headquarters in the evening in a university building
in Naunberg. It was comfortable. The Americans, with their usual organizing
ability, had got everything laid on.
Here I met a British liaison officer, Captain Peter Stileman. Soon I realized
the futility of trying to get in touch with an American fighter squadron.
Peter Stileman gave me an armored car and a driver took me twenty-five
miles back to the advanced air transport landing ground where there was
a continuous stream of Dakotas bringing up supplies to the forward troops.
A silver Beechcraft plane landed with two U.S. Army pilots and three American
nurses, who were being brought forward. One of the three pilots, Lieut.
Joe Clamow, said he would take me back to Paris.
We landed on a strip in the forest of St. Germain on the western edge
of Paris and went up to the American mess, which was in a house in the
forest.
It was a most attractive place and the American officers not made me feel
at home, but comfortable as well.
Not Self-Conscious
It says a great deal for their hospitality and tact that a man who had
been a prisoner of war for three and a half years could be made to feel
un-self-conscious even though he had arrived among a number of complete
strangers in a rather grubby old R.A.F. battle dress. Their hospitality
knew no bounds.
They even offered to fly me over to England and fetch my wife and then
fly us both to Cannes.
I telephoned my wife from Paris. She was very surprised to hear me. I
went to bed feeling on top of the world.
________________________ Part 12_________________________
I got in touch with R.A.F. headquarters at Rheims, where I was delighted to hear an old friend, Tubby Murmagen, in whose squadron I had been a flight lieutenant in 1940. He was now an air commodore.
Back To England
He arranged for an R.A.F. plane to take me back to England.
I went to Buc airfield, where I found Tubby looking exactly the same
as ever; he swore that I was the same. He had flown over to Rheims in
a Spitfire and I very nearly managed to get it from him to fly myself
back to England.
However, I went back as a passenger in a twin-engined R.A.F. plane with
a Polish pilot and an English navigator.
We crossed the English coast at Little-Hampton, which gave me a warm
glow, because it was the area over which I had flown frequently in the
summer of 1941.
I could see the airfield where I was stationed in those days, and from
which I took off on my last operation on August 9, 1941. It was pleasant
to see it again.
German Claims
I often was asked by army friends in prison what I thought of the fantastic
claims made by German fighters in the war. Some claimed as many as 100
victories. The British best at that time (1944) was 35 to 40.
I have spoken since with well-known German fighter pilots (now resident
in Britain) and there is little doubt that what a number of us suspected
was true — the German fighter force was not as big as a lot of
people thought.
The German fighter pilot in a number of cases began his experience over
Spain in the civil war, flew in Poland in 1939, over France in 1940,
England in 1940, France again in 1941 and then went to the Russian front
in 1941.
On each of those fronts he had a better aeroplane, more experience and
greater numbers than his opponent. Whether in 1941 he had greater numbers
than our Russian ally, I do not know. Certainly he had the experience.
Leading Pilot
Germany's leading fighting pilot by June, 1941, I think, claimed 70
victories, of which 40 were from the Spanish war. Undoubtedly, he knocked
a few down over Poland in 1939. He then went to France in 1940 where
he himself was shot down and became a prisoner.
When France packed up in June, the then French authorities gave him
and some 300 other German pilots and crews back to the Germans. These
experienced aircrews were used in August and September 1940, against
England.
In June and July 1941, this pilot went to the Russian front where he
built up some more victories, until he finally was promoted above active
flying rank with his score at about 130. He was killed subsequently
in an air transport accident. [Daddy Molders –ed]
I am deliberately not mentioning the names of German pilots, although
I do know them, because I have no wish to belittle a nation which has
proved itself to possess brave and competent fighting men, even though
they were fighting for such an evil ideology. [some Germans had earned
Bader's respect before the war was even over -ed]
British System
The British system of claiming was very different. We did not have air
"victories" just a genuine "confirmed" or "probable"
or "damaged."
In 1941 when we got fed up with German fighter pilots showing too strong
a desire to live to fight another day, we introduced a "frightened."
This new category originated, from my wing. The first time a "frightened"
appeared in a combat report, the Intelligence chaps asked what on earth
was meant by "three frightened."
We told them and added that we thought it was rather funny. Evidently
we were the only ones who thought so and it was suggested that we should
refrain.
We got our own back.
A few days later over France we were coming away from the target when
we sighted a lone ME-109. Four of us went after him.
Fight over France
The section consisted of Cocky Dundas, Johnnie Johnson, Sergeant Smith
and myself. The Hun dived as we were on his flank and he saw us coming.
He pulled out after a short dive and I pulled out short to cut him off.
But I was going very fast and wasn't too careful.
I blacked myself out for a moment and never saw the Hun again. We got
together and flew back home.
When we landed Cocky and the others came up to me and said, "By
Jove, that was Jolly good shooting," and I said, "What?"
They said, "Well, you must have been 300 yards away when that Hun
baled out."
I told them I hadn't fired my guns and none of them had either. We rushed
for a combat report form and wrote it down quickly: "One ME-109F
frightened. Confirmed, seen by three pilots."
We had to have our laugh and I know the boys at the other end laughed
too.
German Tricks
German aircraft frequently used to discharge white and black smoke to
give the impression of being shot up. This used to deceive inexperienced
pilots. This smoke trick did not last long and was spotted readily by
an experienced pilot because the smoke started in too great volume.
When you hit the cooling system of a liquid-cooled engine, white smoke
comes out in a thin trickle, increasing in volume as the damage spreads.
With the bogus device, it started with a rush.
In other cases, when fighting above cloud, or in bad visibility under
cloud, an enemy who is seen on fire going into cloud is a reasonably
certain "confirmed," but often the crew will have gotten the
fire under control and staggered home.
After all, many of our bombers got home badly damaged.
Yet you can hardly accuse the fighter pilot of making a bogus claim
when the last time he saw the enemy bomber, it was nicely alight and
due to blow up any moment.
I think our claims were as nearly accurate as is possible, but, with
the best will in the world, there is quite a margin for error.
______________________________________________________
--- Bader ---
--- British Aces ---
--- Canadian Aces ---
_____________________________________________________
Thanks go out to
On these pages I use Hugh Halliday's extensive research which includes info from numerous sources; newspaper articles via the Canadian Museum of Civilization Corporation (CMCC); the Google News Archives; the London Gazette Archives and other sources both published and private.
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