Colditz (29 page)

They arrived in Berne for Christmas and for a reunion party that will long be remembered by the participants. The others were Ronnie Littledale, Billie Stephens, Hank Wardle, Bill Fowler and myself.

Winter and Early Spring 1943

A
FTER HIS ESCAPE
, Pierre Mairesse Lebrun arrived back in France on 14 July 1941. In the area south of the Loire, still unoccupied by the Germans and known as the
zone libre
(or “Vichy” France) he celebrated his freedom in riotous fashion for three weeks. But his reputation had spread and in August he was recruited by
l'Armée de l'Armistice
to assist in setting up the French Resistance movement. For fifteen months he was actively engaged in making contacts, stocking arms, organizing an intelligence network, and in the clandestine passage of men across the Spanish frontier. Then in November 1942 the Germans marched into the
zone libre
and Pierre was forced “underground.” A fugitive, always on the move, he nonetheless continued his Resistance work for another month: he felt a personal duty to execute his responsibilities to the full. Finally he left for the Pyrenees himself, crossing the border on 5 December.

On 16 November Peter Tunstall went for court-martial at Leipzig. On the 19th the Senior British Officer got five days' “room arrest,” allegedly for providing Tunstall with “aids to escaping.”

Flight-Lieutenant “Pete” Tunstall had arrived in Colditz on 16 March. Nearly six feet tall, he had a boyish, open face with large innocent pale-blue eyes. There was only a hint of a twinkle in them when he approached anybody with his impish smile. That smile could soon spell turmoil for the Goons and another court-martial for Pete—as well as for anybody ensnared by him into his “Just William” escapades.

He had been taken prisoner after a forced landing on the beach of the Friesian island of Vlieland on 28 August 1940. Since then he had escaped many times from many camps. He was like the Wandering Jew in his meanderings, always under heavy guard and all over Germany from one prison camp to another. After many long bouts of “solitary” and as many transfers he had eventually arrived. At Thorn he had gone down with meningitis. In prison conditions it was a wonder he survived. That, together with the fact that he felt compelled to continue his war against the Germans wherever he found himself, turned him into the most redoubtable Goon-baiter in Colditz.

In one of his first prison camps he had been briefed by his Senior Officer “to be as big a bloody nuisance to the Germans as possible.” Pete took this as an order. When he came in contact with Douglas Bader at Warburg, he was greatly encouraged by the aggressive example that Bader gave in unmercifully baiting the Germans on every possible occasion. Pete became an ardent follower of this principle and method of continuing the war here in the middle of Germany.

Now he had to go to Leipzig to stand court-martial—this was his third—for a “water-bomb” incident which had occurred at the time of the escape of van Doorninck and Bill Fowler (9 September). In order to prolong the German identification parade he had thrown a bucket of water out of a window aimed at the table on which the POWs' identity papers were arranged.

Hauptmann Priem saw Tunstall throw the water out of the window and came upstairs and arrested him on the spot, saying that he had assaulted the German state! Tunstall was taken off to the cells where he remained in preventative arrest until the date of trial.

Despite the help of Dr. Naumann and of Lieutenant Alan “Black” Campbell (Colditz's “legal eagle” and a barrister in civilian life), Tunstall was found guilty in Leipzig of a breach of Camp Order No. 2 (which prohibited the throwing of water out of windows) and sentenced to four weeks in solitary confinement. But he was released at once because the time served in preventative arrest counted against sentence. He was given honorable acquittal on three other charges: assaulting his superior in the course of his duty (but there was no intent, nor was any German hit); causing a superior to take cover (but Hauptmann Eggers, the superior, was already in the cover of a staircase); causing confusion on a roll-call parade (but there was no proper military parade at the time and if there was Tunstall was within his rights to confuse it in order to aid an escape—Article 51 of the Geneva Convention).

Colonel Stayner and the Dutch Captain Moquette were the only witnesses allowed for the defense. Herr Naumann was engaged by Tunstall at a cost of
nearly 400
Reichsmarks
of which 200 were paid by the Protecting Power. The outstanding cost was borne by British mess funds. Naumann's charges were considered heavy but he was trusted to act conscientiously. Stayner reported that he was greatly impressed by the impartiality and correctness of the officer presiding at the court-martial and with the gentlemanly way in which the witnesses were received.

After this case Priem posted a sentry to cover the windows of the British quarters with orders to fire without warning. When Colonel Stayner requested the removal of the sentry if he himself gave his word of honor that nothing would be thrown out of the windows, Priem refused on the grounds that he could not accept Stayner's word of honor as a British officer.

On 25 November Mike Sinclair, along with a Frenchman, Captain Charles Klein of the French contingent, carried out an escape via the light well in the theater block. They debouched from the German kitchens into the
Kommandantur
area during the break after the mid-day meal. Sinclair very nearly made Switzerland, being trapped at Immendingen near the Schaffhausen frontier on 30 November. Klein did not get so far. He was recaught at Plauen.

Rupert Barry and another Frenchman, Aulard, had a real piece of bad luck when they followed the next day. They had managed to procure by bribery two Goon uniforms. Unfortunately Eggers chose that moment to inspect the German kitchens. Rupert had seized a wheelbarrow and was wheeling it away, when Eggers accosted the two “unknown” Germans. Eggers states that he failed to recognize Rupert Barry, who had shaved off his handlebar mustache for the occasion.

On 3 December, Thibaut de Maisières, a Belgian, arrived, making sixteen Belgians in all. One of them, Lieutenant Jan Scheere, was an Olympic pentathlete. He had beaten up a
mouton
(informer) for having betrayed an escape elsewhere of two Belgian officers and then had been posted to Colditz where he was pointed out to newcomers with admiration as
l'assassin belge
. Another, Lieutenant Le Cocq, had one day impulsively written to his wife in Belgium from his previous camp that he hoped that she would soon be rid of the “
vermine grise
.” Conscientious German censors translated this as
graue Pest
. When they grasped that what appeared to be an allusion to a garden insect was an insulting description of themselves they reported the lieutenant, who was awarded two months' imprisonment, Colditz to follow. “Inflammatory sermons” had qualified the Aumonier Schmickradt, a Jesuit priest; and the other had come from mild Eichstatt, adjudged of “
mauvais esprit
.” The Belgians' Senior Officer, Colonel Desmet, had been put on a train in France (after the capitulation) in
order, as had been promised, to be repatriated to Belgium. The train made a detour in the night however and next morning Colonel Desmet woke up in Germany a prisoner. The Germans explained that the train had entered Belgium after 23 August, which they had appointed as the final date for free repatriation. Irritated by this duplicity, Colonel Desmet made a tart speech which brought him inevitably to Colditz. His aide, L'Officier Adjutant Leroy, had lived freely at home until December (1940) when he was suddenly arrested and sent to join the colonel on the strength of a police card stamped “
très dangereux
.”

On 1 December Fredo Guigues escaped from Münster where the thirty-one Frenchmen had ended up, along with seven others. Of the eight who escaped, five were recaptured, including Guigues. Fredo and Pierre Boutard were caught in the middle of a wild-boar hunt. They were savagely beaten up, hospitalized in Soest and then sent back to Colditz where they arrived before Christmas. (Boutard died in hospital on 18 August 1944.)

Guigues learned of the discovery of his wireless set “Arthur I” by Eggers during a great search on 15 December. He was certain that a traitor must have given the game away. He was right.

Eggers revealed to Guigues in 1970 that a French soldier had offered to betray the place of a secret wireless in exchange for his freedom. The OKW had accepted the offer provided the set were found as directed by the POW and found in working order. He declared himself a collaborator and, because they were Anglophile, an enemy of the other French officers. He told Eggers that the set could be found behind Tunisia in a map of Africa on a wall in room 305, and Eggers, after a full-scale search of the whole French quarters to disguise his intentions, discovered it exactly as described. The traitor left Colditz with some orderlies. In 1970 Eggers revealed the man's name to Guigues but his identity was to be kept secret until the year 2000.
*

Willie Pönert, the German civilian electrician attached to the Colditz garrison, was well known by the prisoners. He was a frequent visitor to their quarters repairing damage of many kinds—not confined to electrical faults.

Early one evening at twilight, on 28 December to be precise, the French conveniently short-circuited their lighting system so that Willie could be called in to repair the fault. Now Willie was such a frequent visitor that he seldom bothered to show his identity disc on entering or leaving the courtyard. The French Lieutenant Perodeau had noted this. He had also noted that he corresponded in height and build with Willie and that Willie wore glasses.

When Willie was fully occupied in the French quarters, Perodeau (looking exactly like Willie, complete with yellow distinguishing armband) headed for the main gate. To the security guard there he said “
Ich habe etwas vergessen
(I've forgotten something).” The guard allowed him through, but at the next gateway the guard demanded to see his identity card. So near and yet so far!

During the Christmas festival at the end of the year a truce was declared between the German staff and the prisoners. They promised not to escape and the Germans left the lights on until 1 a.m. Some of the prisoners contracted bets that this would be the last Christmas of the war.

The saluting war reared its head again in the camp. More trouble had been caused by Colonel Glaesche's Order No. 38 of 20 December 1942, in which he reminded the prisoners of their obligations under the Geneva Convention which called upon them to salute all superior officers and officers of equal rank. He also demanded punctuality and discipline at all roll-calls. A bell was installed to signify the commencement of roll-call. Anyone late was noted. The end product, naturally, was tumult.

So 1942 came to its end with the following result:

Home-runs 1942: 7 British; 5 French; 1 Belgian; 3 Dutch.

All together eighty-four men were involved in forty-four escape attempts and of these the above sixteen were successful. Thirty-nine were caught in the process of getting out of the Castle. Men who escaped in transit to and from Colditz including hospitalization numbered nineteen, of whom three made home-runs.

For 4 January 1943, Eggers had the following to report in his diary:

The prisoners, the British and the French in particular, are doing all they can to get me out of the camp by making life unbearable for me. They have reason enough—I discovered the church tunnel and their attempts to get out from under the stage; I was their main antagonist in the saluting war; I discovered one of their radios. Today Colonel Stayner began a definite attack against me. I had recently brought Lieut. Sinclair back from Weinsberg and the Colonel complained that I had not treated Sinclair well during our train journey for when I ordered a meal in a station restaurant I did not invite him to dine with me. This beats everything! Such arrogance surpasses all my experience!

The difficulty was later smoothed over and explained away as a misunderstanding due to language difficulties.

When Eggers found the wireless set called Arthur I he removed it triumphantly from its hiding place. What he did not know was that, well camouflaged, Arthur II was hidden nearby! That very evening, whilst being congratulated by their superiors, Eggers and his cohort were blithely unaware that Arthur II had arrived some days earlier and had been “switched” from the parcel office. Unfortunately, it arrived with one valve broken. A replacement was ordered. In the meantime Arthur III arrived. It was “switched” and given a very good hiding-place on the second floor of the French quarters (later occupied by the British) in a recess on the stone staircase behind a ventilation grille. A dug-out was built into the shaft behind and Arthur III was installed. By 17 January 1943, the POWs were once more listening to the BBC news.

On 8 January, while there was much snow about, Eggers was nearly hit by a snowball after an
Appell
. The snowball hit a door behind him, collapsed to the ground and revealed a broken piece of beer-bottle glass which had been packed inside it. As retribution, the Germans started taking photos of the courtyard
Appells
from an inconspicuous window in the kitchen gallery (the “Witches' Corridor”). They also installed a machine-gun there which was manned during
Appells
. Neither the machine-gun nor the photographer was visible to the men on parade but Padre Congar somehow found out what was happening. A protest was lodged.

The
Kommandant
revealed that the purpose of the photography was to provide evidence in the case of any mutinous behavior contrary to his Order No. 38. Of course this revelation made matters far worse. Eggers admitted that from then on there was mutiny at every roll-call. Order No. 38 was openly transgressed by smoking, howling, whistling and cat-calling. Names were taken, arrests were made and the cells were full for months.