大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Tahitia Orr of the 2nd Air Division Memorial Library on behalf of Barry Wilson-Law and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

In 1944, I was flying with 419 Squadron (Moose Sqdn) Royal Canadian Air Force Bomber Command.

On 12th June 1944, I went to the Squadron Ops Room and discovered that, along with my crew, I was listed for operations that night. I particularly remember having a feeling of dread come over me as I read the list. This was something I had never experienced before.

However, we attended the briefing later in the day and had our evening meal as usual.

Normally, when we were transported to our Lancaster there was a lot of joking and hilarity on the journey to the dispersal. Amongst my crew this was noticeably absent. Usually a fair amount of horseplay went on before take-off but this evening the crew climbed into the aircraft and sat in their positions and not a word was exchanged.

When it came to start the engines it was discovered that there was a fault in the Port outer engine. As this was a 'no go' situation, we were transferred to another aircraft, 'S' for Sugar.

Whilst checking over the external parts of the aircraft \I noted that there were 13 bombs painted on the nose. I made a joke of this but it was not too well received.

We were a bit late on taking off but managed to make up time with the rest of the Squadron.

We were on our way to bomb the marshalling yards at Cambrai Station, Northern France. We were to bomb at 3,000 feet. This was the time when Bomber Command were switching tactics from attacking industrial targets and were concentrating on lines of communication and supply routes to the German forces fighting at the beachheads.

Having delivered our bombs we started on our return to base. We were ordered to climb to 10,000 feet near Calais to avoid enemy anti-aircraft fire, but just prior to the occurring I remember thinking we had got away with the operation unscathed and my previous feeling or premonition was no warranted.

We had just increased power to commence climbing when there was the sound of flack hitting the aircraft. Usually this event was preceded by the sight of tracer bullets aimed at the aircraft but there was no sight of these coming from ground defences. A German night fighter had attacked us.

Suddenly our port inner engine was engulfed in flames, which quickly spread to the wing. Use of the extinguishers was unable to quench the flames and we dived the aircraft hoping to put out the fire but to no avail. We were then about 1,000 feet and still descending slowly. The order was given to bail out.

The bomb-aimer, Roy Forbes, managed to open the front hatch and he dropped out of the aircraft. I was sitting on the step leading into the bomber aimer's compartment with the navigator, Ronnie Lowe immediately behind me. I took off my helmet, which effectively separated me from the aircraft, and having strapped on my parachute previously, I dived head first from 'S' Sugar. I pulled the ripcord when clear of the aircraft's passage and I remember feeling how peaceful it was after the roar of the engines.

I saw 'S' Sugar crash to the ground and shortly afterwards landed myself. My left leg was doubled back under my body but at the time I did not feel any ill effects. I suppose I was too dazed. When I recovered my wits I discovered that I was in a cornfield and my parachute formed a canopy over me. I realised that the 'chute could be seen and quickly gathered it in and wrapped my 'Mae West' immersion jacket round it and left it in the corn.

I thought it would be best to be on the move in case German forces had started to look members of my crew and me. I made my way through the cornfield and suddenly I could hear running water. It was dark and I could not see what appeared to me to be a river. I backed into the cornfield and then ran and jumped, hoping I might clear the 'river'. I landed on dry land in somebody's vegetable patch and looking back I could make out that the 'river' was about two feet wide!

I continued up a garden path to what appeared to be a large house. I eased myself up the side of the house and stopped suddenly. I heard a woman and a man talking but could not make out the gist of their conversation. Shortly after I had stopped, the woman said goodnight and walked away. I heard the man walk down the passageway, only the house wall divided us, and suddenly I heard the sound of a rifle butt clatter on the stone floor of the passageway and shortly afterwards he began to snore.

I made my way back into the garden and proceeded to jump fences of what must have been a row of terraced houses. Once more I found myself in a field of corn on the edge of what I thought was an airfield. Then I heard voices and the click of rifle bolt. I sank to the ground and decided to move no more until I could get my bearings in daylight. I opened my emergency rations pack and ate two Horlicks tablets and then fell asleep.

When I awoke it was daylight. I carefully lifted my head above the corn and saw that I was lying about 50 yards from a low hedge on the other side of which was a station platform. I began to crawl though the corn towards the hedge, the only cover around. ON my way I came across some straw bales that had been fashioned into sleeping quarters for the German soldiers. When they returned they would find one shaving mirror short!

I managed to reach the hedge and crawled along towards what appeared to be a farm building. However, before I could reach the hedge near the building I would have to dash across an opening between the hedge I was crouched under and a hedge by the farm building. To do so would expose me to the German sentries if they were about.

I was able to watch the sentries and noted that they patrolled up and down that platform and I considered that when they were patrolling away from my direction, I could make my dash without being discovered. I made the dash successfully. It was about 50 yards.

As I stood partially in the hedge by the building, I saw there was a vegetable plot and then a man walked down the path to the plot and kneeling down he began to plant small plants. I gave him a noiseless whistle and he looked up and saw me but went on planting. After a short while I attracted his attention again in the same manner. He motioned with his hand, waving it horizontally over the plants, signifying that he had seen me. Another few minutes passed and he rose to his feet and walked back up the path disappearing from my view.

I waited, getting deeper into the hedge. The next thing I knew, two men pulled me through the hedge backwards. One was the man whose attention I had attracted and the other turned out to be the farmer, Pierre Gillootes.

They hurried me to a nearby barn which was full of hay/straw and I climbed over the hay/straw to where there was a space between the barn's contents and the bar wall. I dropped down into the space and soon fell asleep.

Some time later I was shaken awake by Pierre and he gave me a bottle of red wine to consume. Having not eaten since the previous evening, I drank the wine and after a while was ready to fight the whole German army! Mercifully Pierre next brought a load of 'french fries', which I speedily demolished and then more sleep.

When it was dark, Pierre took me into his farmhouse and gave me a substantial meal and a bed for the night. The next morning I had breakfast with him and he gave me a suit of his clothes, having burnt my uniform in the night. Pierre was about 5' 6鈥� tall and rather portly. I was six foot and weighed less than 10 stone and it leaves little to the imagination as to my sartorial appearance. Pierre assured me that I would not look out of place most people in the area had to make to with what they had.

Whilst I was having breakfast there was a knock on the front door and Pierre answered it. When he came back to the table he told me that it was the Germans looking for me. He assured them he had no knowledge of my whereabouts. If I had been found, Pierre and everyone on the farm would have been shot on the spot.

Pierre gave me a small suitcase in which he put some bread and cheese, etc. Also a bible, which had been given to his family by a British Officer in the First World War. He gave me directions that would take me towards Lille. Before I left I wrote my name and home address on an old envelope. I did not know his name at the time, only Pierre. Nor where he lived 鈥� this was necessary in case I was caught and inadvertently gave Pierre away.

So I set off for Lille, (why Lille 鈥� I do not know) I was anxious to clear the area as soon as I could. I had walked about half a mile when the farm boy passed me on his bicycle. Pierre had sent him to make sure I was on the right road. The boy gave me a small wave and returned to the farm and I walked on.

Somewhere along the way I passed a Gendarme and German Field Policeman. The Gendarme said 'bon jour' to which I replied in a similar vein, being careful to keep my head lowered.

I walked on and reached a town where I arrived at the main square. There were several roads leading out of the square and I approached a group of about 5 youths and identified myself and requested them to tell me which road led to Lille. They pointed the way for me and I thanked them and left immediately. I now know the town was Bailleul.

On the outskirts I decided I would eat some bread and cheese. I found an allotment by the side of the road and entered it and sat down on a bank. I opened the suitcase and began to eat and as I was eating saw two German soldiers entering the allotment from the far end. Fearing they might interrogate me, I fled from the allotment back onto the road. In my panic I left the suitcase and contents behind. I had no papers and spoke very poor French.

I continued on my way towards Lille and about midday I called at a farmhouse by the road. Again I identified myself and the wife of a farmer gave me a bowl of soup and some bread. I sat on a bench outside the house and while I was eating there was an altercation going on inside the house. It appeared that the wife wanted to do more for me in the way of help and two male voices were arguing that it was too dangerous.

I finished the soup and bread, knocked on the door and thanked the farmer's wife and left quickly. I hoped that they settled their differences once I had departed.

I walked on again until about 3.30 pm having started my journey at 6.00 am when again I saw workers gathering crops in my left hand side of the road. I was very tired and wondering what was my objective and I entered the field and spoke to a man who appeared to be in charge of the workers. Having identified myself he put me in the back of horse drawn farm cart and eventually we arrived at another farmhouse.

The farmer asked me about myself and I gave him my name, rank and service number but politely told him I could not offer any further information. He accepted this and I was shown to a pleasant bedroom and was told I was not to leave the room without permission. I was even escorted to the toilet and I had all my meals in the room.

After two more days I was taken downstairs and introduced to a young girl who could speak English. It appeared that she had two bikes, one of which was for me and she was going to take me to another house. She told me that I should ride 20 metres behind her and if I were stopped for questioning she would ride on and vice versa if she were to be stopped.

Having thanked the farmer for his hospitality, we started on our way. Nothing eventful happened and we arrived at a house in a village, which I now know to be Templemars where I was welcomed by the lady of the house. Her husband was seemingly a man of great influence. My suit disappeared and another one, which this time fitted, was given to me.

I learnt the names of my benefactors were Mr and Mrs Legrand and it was evidently a safe house. I stayed at the house for about 3 days during which time two American airmen who had suffered the same fate as myself joined me. The three of us decided to get out of Northern France and make for the south away from the mass of German forces in the north and possibly make it to Spain.

With this objective in mind we were helped by various organizations i.e. the Resistance and the Maquis Safe House, encountering some adventures along the way but never knowing the names of the people who helped us or the names of the places.

Whilst on our journey with a Maquis band we raided a cherry orchard and shortly afterwards I contracted dysentery and it made it virtually impossible for me to continue my progress southward. Luckily I was found a safe house by the Maquis and very shortly a doctor arrived and confirmed I had indeed contracted dysentery. He had no medical means with which to treat me but advised the people of the house to boil some rice which he had brought with him and to feed me the gruel, not the rice, three times a day. In three to four days I was fit enough to continue our journey.

At one safe house we were introduced to the local resistance leader, a 'Monsieur Chocolate'! An 'Insurance Agent' who had been found to be a collaborator with the Germans giving them information regarding the resistance visited this house. He was received in the lounge of the house and Andy, Tom and I and Monsieur Chocolate were present. There were three doors leading to the lounge and we three each guarded a door apiece to prevent the Agent from attempting to escape.

After a brief conversation between the two Frenchmen, Monsieur Chocolate drew a revolver from his pocket and made the agent a captive. We then escorted the agent to the side door of the garage where we were met by two other men. They were guarding a car, which had presumably been driven there earlier. The gent was bundled into the back of the car and they drove away. We did not know what happened to the captive but I do not think he was left alive.

As mentioned earlier our journey towards Spain was helped by guides, local residence organisations, safe houses and on two occasions by the Maquis. Due to their activities where were regularly martial in content they were frequently the target of German SS troops who were especially tasked with destroying the Maquis.

[This story is continued in A Journey Across France to Spain Part Two]

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