大象传媒

This is a true story 鈥� a story of an escape from a German Prisoner of War camp in August 1944. It tells of what is probably the largest successful breakout by British POWs in World War 2. To my knowledge it has never been told in the UK.

Ralph Churches, an Australian, was responsible for a very successful escape from a German P.O.W. camp in Austria. With the help of his camp buddy, and making contact with the Slovene Partisans, nearly 100 men escaped from Stalag 17a Gratz Austria

Ralph鈥檚 escape plan started as a solo job, then became a twosome, which would include his English camp buddy Les Laws, then again to an eight-man affair. The thought led Ralph to further considerations - why not go the whole hog and take the entire camp? This he eventually did.

They walked to freedom for more than 14 days. Nearing their final destination most of the men were exhausted, foot sore and weary - it was the 14th day since they had started the journey and it seemed they had been marching forever. The men were called together and told they would march for the whole of that day to reach their final destination. They were close to the end of their tether. Ralph gave them a pep talk 鈥淵ou are bloody heroes鈥� he told them and 鈥測ou have made history, we have walked more than a hundred and fifty miles in fourteen days. Please, fellas, this last once make it there with me.鈥� Their replies were music to Ralph鈥檚 ears: 鈥淲e鈥檒l be there with you鈥� they replied, and with a spring in their step they some how marched on.

My own story (I am Valerie Lloyd) is a wartime story beginning when I was a young girl. The youngest of a family of four, living in the Manchester area, I had two sisters and one brother. My brother was the apple of my mother鈥檚 eye and idolised by us all.

At the age of 17 and a half my brother, Alfred Valentine, was called upon to join the Royal Engineers. My parents were devastated with worry 鈥� I of course wondered why 鈥� I thought it was a great adventure. When my husband and I many years later helped our son to pack for his journey to University I understood my parent鈥檚 feelings.

My brother wrote letters home as often as possible and my very anxious mother would wait at the garden gate watching for the postman coming along the lane.

We had a very kind and thoughtful postman by the name of Tommy, and Tommy the postman would see from a distance my mother waiting at the gate. If he had a letter for us he would wave it in the air for her to see.

However, the time very soon came when my brother, having been posted abroad to we knew not where, that Tommy the postman was awaited anxiously every day. Several letters did arrive but apart from assuring our parents that he was well there was little information.

Sadly the letters stopped coming and my parents became very anxious.

Apparently, at that time, the Manchester Evening News would print whatever information they could. They would print lists of names of those personnel believed to be missing, killed, shot down etc. My father would buy this newspaper on the way home from work in the evening, and one evening he had the unenviable job of telling my mother that my brother was reported missing presumed taken Prisoner of War. I understand there were many organisations helping families in this situation, including the Red Cross who were very helpful to my parents.

Many anxious weeks passed before Tommy the postman could be seen waving a letter, the first to be received from my brother confirming he was a Prisoner of War in Stalag 17a Gratz Austria. Here he remained for almost four years. Letters were of course few and far between, so when there was a rather long gap my father assured my mother this was only to be expected.

It was after such a long break that, when a long awaited letter did arrive, it was one of great surprise telling us that he had escaped and was in Switzerland very soon to be arriving home.

For me the story is rather hazy here. I don鈥檛 really know how long we waited for him to return home but I do very clearly remember the wonderful day he was expected, when all the family gathered and waited 鈥� and waited and we waited until very late in the evening. When he arrived there were as you can imagine many tears, much laughter and no going to bed.

Four years previously my brother had left home. He was a very good looking, dark haired lad with a lot of fun in him. He had returned looking much older then I remembered him, but still very handsome.

The family - aunts, uncles, cousins, friends etc. all celebrated his homecoming until he had to return to duty six weeks later. He was eventually demobbed and a few years later met and married a young lady. They had one son who strangely now lives and works in Switzerland.

When my brother returned home from being a Prisoner of War he spoke very little of his experiences, but sometimes words are spoken that remain forever in your mind and this happened to me. I clearly remember my brother speaking very briefly about his escape. He said it was all due to one man and in my brother鈥檚 opinion this man deserved a medal. That was all I could remember - no names were ever mentioned.

At this stage we move on - we grow older, we marry and wartime is somewhere left behind.

Sadly at the age of 61 my brother suffered a heart attack and passed away. Again I move on to the year 2000/01, when friends and relatives still living in the Manchester area telephoned or wrote informing us that a picture of my brother had appeared in the Manchester Evening News, with the caption 鈥渨here is he now?鈥�. A man by the name of John Pook from the Isle of Wight was asking for this information and I wrote to him.

John Pook was the son of a man who had also been a Prisoner of War in the same camp as my brother. He also had passed away and John Pook was researching into his father鈥檚 life. Among belongings he found a picture of my brother with 鈥淢anchester鈥� and his name on the back.

John Pook and I exchanged many letters and I told him my wish to find the man responsible for my brother鈥檚 escape. John Pook knew nothing of this, as his father remained a Prisoner of War until it ended. We discovered that he had not been in my brother鈥檚 working party on that day, and therefore had not been one of those to escape.

John Pook was a mountain of information and must be a wizard with the computer because he wrote several suggestions to me to find the information I so wanted.

Eventually he suggested I write to an Australian by the name of Ralph Churches and felt sure this could be the one.

I wrote to Ralph Churches and very soon received a letter. His words were 鈥淵es I am guilty as charged鈥�. I had found the man responsible for giving such joy to my parents in having their son returned to them earlier than expected.

The story is of how Ralph Churches meticulously organised this escape and managed to free almost 100 men. He did not lose one of them - they all returned home.

In organising this escape Ralph gave careful thought to the time of year, weather conditions etc, as they walked for 14 days to freedom, eating fruit from the trees and sometimes helped by farmers.

Now in his eighties and becoming frail he tells me how hard he tried to have this wonderful story published without success. He eventually wrote a book himself called 鈥淎 hundred miles as the crow flies鈥� and even in Australia could not find a publisher. He paid for it to be published himself. The UK was never interested. Since finding Ralph I have tried to gain interest from many people. I even wrote to 鈥楥illa Black鈥� and enclosed a copy of the book. I didn鈥檛 even get an acknowledgement.

Many people who have read the book have sent appreciative comments. One person has said this story would make a wonderful film. Ralph did receive a medal, as my brother had hoped, but many people knowing the story feel this should have been far greater than the British Empire Medal (Military Division) - TO PRIVATE RALPH FREDERICK CHURCHES, AUSTRALIAN MILITARY FORCES.

Ralph dedicated his book to the valiant Slovene Partisans who, beyond the call of duty, risked so much to guide him and 98 other Prisoners of War across 鈥渁 hundred miles as the crow flies鈥� of enemy occupied country in August 鈥� September 1944.

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