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This story appears courtesy of and with thanks to Charles Cassidy and Pat and Chuck Macpuzl

Charles served as a B-17 bombardier with the 8th Air Force during WWII. His bomber was severely damaged during a raid on Munich in July of 1944, and forced to land in Switzerland. Here, in his own words, is the story of his few months as an Internee before escaping

We arrived in Lausanne early in the morning, still dark. I remember this clearly, because while wandering around awaiting daylight, I saw mercury vapor lights for the first time; they were on a long, nicely built concrete bridge and emitted a pale, sickly yellow light.
Sometime after nine or ten in the morning, Sasson took me to the English Library - the place that we had been directed to go. The librarian, an English woman, when I introduced myself, said, very dejectedly, that she had told them not to send any more evadees. She did not mention who "them" were, but she made arrangements for me at a private home of an older couple who were in the business of human ferrying, of which at that time in Europe there was brisk business. Their son, about nineteen years old, had made several treks across France into Belgium and had whisked persons wanted by the Germans to safety in Switzerland. He was fluent in French, English and German; he would be our guide to Geneva, and would make contact with the Maquis, one of the groups of French resistance fighters.
A day or two after I arrived in Lausanne Paul Long, pilot, and Marvin Shaw, navigator, showed up. How they made their way to Lausanne, I don't know, nor do I remember if I ever did know. With people coming and going, all strangers, the subject was probably not discussed. In retrospect, I think that we were safe, but a closed mouth makes safe things safer.
Several days later we made ready for the crossing into France. One evening, after dark, some type of covered lorry took us to Geneva. By this time, there were two others in the party: Two British soldiers who had escaped from a German prisoner of war camp where they had been held since the debacle at Dunkirk. There may have been more than the five of us, and the guide, but I think not. We disembarked from the lorry near a small stream. By this time, my newly bought shoes, too small for me, were causing great discomfort to my feet. We waited for the return of the guide who had gone to make contact with the Maqui who would take us back to the American lines. And we waited. After what seemed like hours, but still dark, the guide returned and we waded across the stream, shoes on. On the far shore our guide turned us over to the Maqui, eight or ten strong and all armed. I believe at this point the guide left us. We walked some more until we came to a ramshackle, deserted house where we holed up and again waited for some purpose or other. After this delay, we were taken, still on foot I think, farther up into the mountains until we came to a place that appeared to be a barracks. There were cots and beds in the building -- some beds without mattresses but some probably had straw ticks in place of mattresses.
Inside, where there was some light, we looked around, and I began to wonder if our venture had been wise. Never in my life had I seen such a rough looking bunch of men -- killers all. In later years, if I would have stumbled on a group with such visages, I would have run as fast as possible -- away. We slept after brief introductions. Upon waking, doubts again plagued us, but since we could do nothing about it, those doubts were put behind. But cigarets, even the poor ones that we had, are a door opener toward making new friends, especially with those who have had few or none for so long. If I had this to do again, I would load up with cigarets before venturing out.
I do not remember how we got to Annecy, but get there we did. This city is due south of Geneva about twenty five miles and is in the province of Haute Savoie, it has much history. On the south side of Annecy is a long mountain lake which in peace time must be a resort because the large hotel, as well as the surrounding area, had all of the earmarks of a summer resort.
We reported to this hotel, out of the city, where there were several American military personnel, probably stationed there to see that evadees and escapees were transported back to their units or armies. We were outfitted with new clothes; I received a pair of six or eight inch high, metal studded boots and my sore feet suddenly felt good again.
How long we were billeted at this place I do not remember, but, perhaps a day or two. As it happened, this was the last place that I was ever bitten by bedbugs.
While there, the captain in charge told me that an invitation had been received from the Maquis inviting roomers at the hotel to come to the execution of some Germans. The captain stated that the invitation was declined.
From Annency we were taken by U. S. Army truck to Lyon. Driving through the devastated countryside we met a hay wagon being towed by eight or ten German military prisoners. Poetic justice in action, since the Germans had confiscated the draft animals in the area. The German army, or more probably, the SS troops had committed many atrocities in this area of France. In one small hamlet, the SS troops had herded women, children and old people into a church and set it afire. Perhaps this, or some other atrocity, was the justification for the execution mentioned in the preceding paragraph.
I do not recall how long we were in Lyon, but soon we were flown to London.
Arriving in London, we were taken to the SHAEF headquarters at Grosvenor House for interrogation. I believe that it was at this point that we were separated from the two British soldiers.
From London we went back to the 303rd Bomb Group (Hells Angels) at Molesworth.
We were able to obtain the use of a B-17 to fly to Liverpool to pick up our footlockers, in storage there. The large storage structure housed the belongings of airmen who had been killed, prisoners of war, and those missing in action. There were thousands upon thousands of footlockers. At a place such as this, the grim reality of war is starkly revealed. Procedures for filing and storage must have been efficient because we were there for only a couple of days. Breakfast, either at the Red Cross or the USO, consisted of powdered eggs which had been prepared so that they actually tasted good.
From Liverpool, we flew back to our group. Lt. Vitale's crew, my original crew, had already gone back to the States; I did have a pleasant visit with Major Barrett, the Group Intelligence Officer of the 303rd.
It seems to me that we went back to London from our base one more time. What I am about to relate could have happened after we had returned to England from France and before we went back to the base for the first time since July 13th. We were in London on Armistice Day, l944. While there, we attended an Armistice Day memorial service in Westminster Abbey. Also, at this time, I received my first acquaintance with the German V2 aerial rocket bombs. They would come in silently or with a slight whistle and then the loud explosion. These bombs, I think, came from sites in Germany. They were different from the flying buzz bombs (V1 ?) I had experienced on my first visits to London. The first versions had an engine or motor that sounded like a 1 cylinder gasoline washing machine engine. When the "putt putt" ceased, the explosion would come in seconds. Most of the buzz bombs came from France, and many of our first bombing raids were made on these bomb launching sites that looked like ski ramps.
Shortly after going back to the 303rd base at Molesworth, we entrained for Prestwick, Scotland. At Prestwick, we boarded a military C-54 cargo airplane with bucket seats, no backs, for the seventeen hour (?) trip back to New York. Our first stop, in the dark of night, was for refueling at Reykjavik, Iceland. The next stop, probably again for refueling, was at Stevenville, Newfoundland. The next stop was La Guardia airport in New York City, on November 18, 1944 - I think. And then we were on our own.

Continued.....
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