EVASION & CAPTURE

The French Underground 

Darkness finally came and so did a couple of older French men. They brought us food and water and told us that we would stay in the area for a couple of days. We spent the time on the top of a haystack out of site of the enemy. The days and nights passed slowly with nothing to do but try to keep warm. Fortunately, it was dry the first two days. On the third day, a light rain came down, and that night our French friends moved us to a private residence. We rode on bicycles, and our leader instructed us to do exactly what he did. At one point he grabbed his bike, drug it into a muddy field, and lay down. We, of course, followed him, and within a few minutes, a pair of lights came around the corner and slowly passed by. It was a German Patrol, and I thought for certain that they would hear my heart beating. However, they passed us by without incident, so we got back on our bicycles and rode off into the darkness.

 

When we arrived at the home, we were given dry clothes that we were to keep. I had to give up my brand new pair of military shoes for a pair of very uncomfortable French shoes that were too small. We learned that the master of the house worked with the French Maki, one of the cells of the extensive French underground. Each of these cells worked independently from the others, so the Germans couldn't make cell connections. People who were helped by the underground would be sent from one cell to the next, slowly making their way across France and eventually to freedom across the border. We spent several days at the home of our very gracious hosts.

 

One day dressed like French peasants, Marvin and I, along with our guide got on a train heading south to Paris. We were supplied with fake papers and some francs to buy food or whatever else we might need in our flight to freedom. Our train took us into Paris. At this point in the war, Paris was in Vici France, a section that was controlled by a puppet government of the Germans. It also marked the line of demarcation dividing heavily occupied France from Vici France. German soldiers would come here for R & R. In Paris, our guide bought us train tickets that would take us into Southern France. He led us onto the train and had us sit in one of the compartments with a mother and two children. He asked the lady to let us know when we had arrived at our stop. She was very concerned that the Germans would shoot her and her children for helping the enemy. On the other hand, she had an even more immediate concern – that the French Underground would shoot them if they didn't help. The more immediate concern won, and she agreed to help. We tried to make our selves comfortable and blend into our unfamiliar surroundings. I stared out the window and watched the French countryside fly by and thought of home.

 

The mother and two children had to leave before we arrived at our destination, so she explained to the next passenger what was required of him. We sat and looked at each other with casual glances and unsure smiles and awaited our destination that lay inside the line of demarcation.

 

We stepped off the train and into the afternoon sun. At this point we had to head inland. We walked on the road during the day looking as much as we could like French peasants. When we got to the Dadorian River near Bordeaux we found the bridge guarded by Germans, so we left the road and walked the river's edge looking for a place to cross. Marvin looked out over the swift current of the wide river and asked me if I could swim. I told him yes. He said he couldn't swim, but I should go ahead and go. Taking into consideration the swift current, the width of the river, and temperature of the water in April, I opted not to take the plunge. Instead, we worked our way inland to a smaller town where we found another bridge across the river that was not guarded. Before crossing over, we went into a small shop where we purchased bread and something to drink.

 

We crossed over the river and walked for several hours before coming upon a farmhouse with a manual pump outside. We knocked at the door to ask for permission to get a drink. No one answered, so we decided to go ahead and start pumping. Before we could bring the water up, a Frenchman came running out of the house waving his hands in the air and shouting in broken English that the water was no good to drink. He reluctantly took us inside, gave us wine and water, and then sent us on our way. The poor man was scared to death, and I'm sure he was glad to see us go.

 

We had walked 3 or 4 miles when we came upon a Frenchman on a bicycle. Our last hosts had told us that we should always be honest with the French people we meet because if they thought we were lying, they would shoot us, assuming that we were Germans. Consequently, when this solitary French cyclist asked us what we were doing, we told him that we were downed airmen trying to get to freedom. He took us to a place to stay. Here we met the master of the house, his daughter, and Joe Nathan, who acted as an interpreter. 

(50 years would pass before the daughter would finally learn, from a letter I sent to her, what happened to the two airmen who stayed at their home. She admitted, in a return letter sent in 1997, that she was not optimistic about our chances to make it to freedom. She was greatly relieved to learn that we, along with the rest of our crew, had survived the experience.)

 

We spent several days and nights at this safe house, and our hosts made our stay very comfortable. One night, our hosts cooked us a feast by roasting a prized turkey they had hidden away. The Germans had confiscated almost all of the livestock from the farmers, so this was a rare bird indeed. We were honored that they would share what little they had with us. The incredible taste, generosity, and warmth of their hospitality will never be forgotten. That night, we could hear bombs exploding in the distance as the Allies continued their campaign against the Germans. The next day, we continued our journey. In the distance, the British flew a rare daytime mission using mosquitoes. They dive bombed the target and successfully eliminated it. We spent the day walking to the next small town where we would catch another train that would take us to Toulouse on the French border with Spain.

 

Once we crossed into Spain, we would make our way to the British embassy. That night, we slept in a German warehouse filled with military supplies. We covered ourselves with the heavy wool blankets and slept well, comfortable that the Germans would not come looking for escapees in their own warehouse.

 

The next day we boarded the crowded train bound for Toulouse. There were no seats available, so we had to stand. We had been traveling for some time when I noticed two men coming down the crowded aisle checking papers. My heart started pounding, and I could feel my stomach tighten. They were two police officers in plain clothes. I had been given papers that said I was a deaf-mute. I thought to myself that all I had to do was stand and stare at them, and I would be okay. The men approached me and asked for my papers. I gave them what they wanted and just stood there. They started asking questions, but I didn't respond. I think the terror in my eyes betrayed me because they didn't buy the story. They continued with their questions as the others silently disappeared. I was left alone to face the questions. My head was racing, and inside I was screaming. There was mass confusion. Everyone was speaking in different languages, and I stood there wishing I could just disappear like the others. Finally, the men spoke to me in English, and I knew that I was caught. It was an incredibly exciting moment. My 26 days on the run had come to an end on a crowded train somewhere in southern France. I gave them my name, rank, and serial number and resigned myself to the moment and whatever lay ahead for me. I silently said a prayer and hoped that God was listening.

 

Captured 

I noticed that the Germans were very nervous. I guess you would be nervous too if 90% of the people hated you. As the officer’s eyes darted about the train, I stood silently waiting and wondering what was going to happen to me. After what seemed like an eternity, the train finally arrived in Toulouse. I was placed in an underground cell that was very dark and cold. There wasn't a bed to sleep on, so I made myself as comfortable as possible on the floor of the cell and went to sleep. My dad told me before I left for the war that if I ever got into trouble, I should just go to sleep because you can't worry when you're sleeping. At the time, I thought it was strange advice, but now that I was in a predicament, my father's words carried the wisdom of an ancient philosopher.

 

The two policemen and I boarded a train bound for Bayonne on the French Border near the Atlantic Ocean. I had always felt that, even in the midst of war, you could find humanity, and on that train I found it. My captors treated me very well. When they ate, they gave me food too. I saw that they were just doing their job. They were probably very tired of the war and looking forward to the end. At one point, as the train weaved its way through the Pieronies Mountains, I pointed out a beautiful vista to one of the guards and said, “Beautiful.” The guard looked out, turned to me and responded, “Yah, beautiful.” 

I looked out the window for a little while longer until the gentle rock and rhythm of the train lulled me to sleep. The next thing I knew, the same guard woke me up and pointed out the window to an even more breathtaking view.

 

“Ist beautiful, yah?” 

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I looked out and absorbed the majesty of God’s creation and thought about how wonderful the world would be if we could all just enjoy the simple treasures that he has given to us. 

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s beautiful.” 

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Bayonne, France 

We arrived in Bayonne late in the afternoon on April 27th. I was placed into an underground cell at a prison somewhere in the city. It was cold and dark with the only light coming from a small peephole in the door. I lay down and slept as well as I could on the floor. I didn’t know whether it was day or night when I awoke. I called for the guard, and he let me out to use the latrine. Shortly after I returned to the cell, two B17 pilots joined me. It was good to have some company, and the darkness of the cell didn’t seem as heavy as we talked about the experiences that brought us here. Two long weeks passed before we would see the light of day again.

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