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The story of how I ended up there is as exciting as my subsequent bid for freedom. I was the bomb–aimer in a Halifax shot down by a German night fighter over Berlin.
As the plane spiralled down, the pilot and I struggled to open a jammed escape hatch. The pilot sacrificed his own life by pushing me out first but unfortunately was not able to escape himself. My parachute opened and two seconds later I landed, as the aircraft exploded on the ground barely 200 yards away. I was subsequently captured and taken to Stalag Luft 3, in Upper Silesia in present day Poland.
Years later, when my only son was born, I christened my baby Kevin – the pilot’s name.
Behind the wire, I became a 'penguin', strolling surreptitiously around the compound dispersing sand from the tunnels which were being dug 30 feet below. They called us penguins because, with a blooming great sock full of sand down each trouser leg, that’s how we walked.
And on a moonless March night 60 years ago, I took my place in the queue of men waiting to escape during an air raid. My initial disappointment at not being among the 76 men to get out was transformed into a grim relief when news filtered back to the camp that 50 of the re-captured men had been shot, on Hitler’s orders. They were so young. Even our guards were shocked – they let us build a memorial to our friends.

Everyday, I think of the friends who never came back after they broke out of Stalag Luft 3 at Sagan, near the Polish border in Germany. They are always in my thoughts. These officers were the cream of the RAF, and Hitler was so incensed about the escape that he ordered the Gestapo to shoot 50 of them. Imagine turning up a work and being told that most of your office colleagues had been shot.
I remember queueing to get out of the camp through the tunnel nickmamed 'Harry'.
After months of planning, including the digging of two other tunnels, 'Tom' and 'Dick', everything was ready for the escape on that night in March, 1944.
The plan was to get 220 of us out. The escape would start at 10pm, and if everything went well, the last man out should have been on his way by 5.30am. This was because there was a roll-call in the compound just after 7am. But, what the escapees had not counted on was an air raid by allied bombers on Berlin. The camp was plunged into darkness, and the lights in the tunnel were also out. And, just as in the film, 'Harry' was 15ft short of where is should have been in the woods.
A total of 76 men got out before the Germans discovered the tunnel entrance.
I was waiting with many others in hut 104, when they heard the gunfire, and realised it was all over. All of us had forged papers, passports and even some German money. There were four minutes of absolute panic as small fires were started in an attempt to burn all the evidence. 'Harry' was 29ft down under a stove in hut 104. Most of the diggers were Canadians or Polish airmen who had been miners. It was 360ft long and was only 2ft by 2ft. The Germans had sound detection equipment, which is why the tunnel had to be so deep.
The audacious plan was masterminded by a South Africa Squadron Leader, Roger Bushell.

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