大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Bill Ross of the 鈥楢ction Desk 鈥� Sheffield鈥� Team on behalf of Ralph Corp (deceased) and has been added to the site with his relatives' permission. They fully understands the site's terms and conditions.
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I sent for the two camp policemen; they were on the list for export. The scheme was put to them. The idea was this: they were to take the boxes through the search room as their own property. The kit inside was clothing of a general nature. I enlightened them as to the radio parts and that if they were discovered, they were to say that the cases were my property and that I had ordered them to take the boxes out of camp. They were pleased to render their assistance.
The process of passing through the search area was a very slow affair. My partner and I were among the rear files of the 700 prisoners. The two policemen with the cases were four or five files in front of us. Experience had taught us that by the time the police were getting to the end of the 700 men, they would be getting tired of the proceedings. We waited many hours before we got to the door of the search area. The two camp policemen had already been through and on coming out, had given us the pre-arranged signal.

The chief of police was a little man and when he saw me, his mouth sort of flickered at one corner, which I took to be his idea of a smile. We were not friends, I remembered the twice I had stood in that same room before him and five or six others. He found nothing to confiscate. He allowed me to proceed; it was nearly 1 a.m. when the last files came through the search room. Until about 4 a.m. we lay on the ground with sentries, to see we did not escape. We then marched to a railway siding about a mile away. At about 8 a.m., a train arrived and after being counted and rechecked, we got on board. Curtains on all windows were drawn and we were forbidden to look out of the windows. Naturally, that order had little effect on the P.O.W.s. I remember seeing the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but most of all, I recall the oil tanks blazing after a night raid by the R.A.F. The roaring British cheer split the air as we passed. It was an exhilaration that did not at all improve our relationships with the fascist officer in charge of the party.

At about 9 a.m., the train arrived at Chiaveri, a small town some 30 km south of Genoa. During the journey, 10 men plus their luggage had been piled into each compartment; not a comfortable arrangement. Then came a 15 km march to the camp and it was a sweltering hot day, but to make matters worse, it was all uphill. Some of the P.O.W.s had never been outside a prison camp for over a year and many were suffering from Malaria. Long before we arrived at the camp, the prisoners, likewise the Italian sentries were staggering along like drunken men.
The sentries kept us away from the other prisoners when we arrived at the camp. Shortly after arrival, my name was called out to enter the search room. I was ushered into a large room in which were placed several tables. Behind each table stood an Italian policeman. One of the fateful boxes was now in my possession and W.O. West had the other. I decided to get things over with as soon as possible and I deposited the case under the policeman鈥檚 nose at the nearest table. I gave him every assistance in the examination of the contents. When he鈥檇 finished the examination, I placed the case on the ground and allowed him to continue with the personal examination. In about 15 minutes, I was free. My friend followed soon afterwards and together, we went to our new quarters. Here, we did a war dance; all the occupants of the room looked sideways at each other, but said nothing loud enough for us to hear. They knew nothing of the radio. One doesn鈥檛 shout such news around, especially when entering a new camp. The last of the 700 men came through the search room at about midnight. We鈥檇 pulled it off right under their noses, and remember, they said they were the elite of the world鈥檚 police, but really, they鈥檝e a lot to learn. 鈥淚 hope you lot do better than that back in G.B.,鈥� said my friend when we were talking things over later that evening.

In a short time, we had contacted an old friend of ours. He had been in charge of a prison break some months earlier, but the attempt was nipped in the bud by the Iti鈥檚. Still, he had plenty of contacts and was liked by all. His local knowledge was nigh perfect and he soon placed us in contact with the right people. We eventually finished up in the camp store, the best place to be. We arranged to be in attendance there between 9.30 and 10.00 every evening, during which time the overseas news was broadcast. Lights out in camp was 10 p.m. but the W.O. in charge of the store were given a certain amount of liberty in this respect and had an independent light switch in his room. A South African W.O. was in charge of the place and he gave us every assistance. The side of one of the boxes in the store was removed and the false compartment made into which the set was fitted. . The box was then filled with Italian soup and placed beneath a pile of old junk in a corner of the room.

For several evenings, we tried to get something on the radio, but were unsuccessful. Finally, W.O. West decided to construct a new coil. Three new coils were made in fact. They were rough jobs, but were fitted to the set. The clothing store was all set and we reported thither one evening in June, 1943, all hoping, yet expecting the same results as before. The door of the hut was made secure from the inside. I fixed the aerial and earth into position. There were four more persons in the room including myself. We watched the face of W.O West attentively. Silence was always the rule. He changed the coils and would make adjustments here and there. After about 10 minutes of fiddling, we were about to give up the ghost, when suddenly, the R.A.F. man motioned us to silence with his hand. You could have heard a pin drop. A few seconds later, he looked up from the set, his face wreathed in smiles, and said, 鈥淪cottish Regional.鈥�

I can never hope to be able to put my feelings into words at that moment. I would have liked to shout the news to the farthest point of that prison camp. Every man in that room was bubbling with excitement and almost bursting to ask questions. 鈥淏illy Warren is on now,鈥� said our operator. We each listened in turn to the variety programme being broadcast that evening. A short time later, the news came on and the R.A.F. man handed me one of the earphones. I took down as much as possible in my shorthand. I got the principle events 鈥� our fighters were doing great things over France and Germany. But best of all, the news in which we were mostly interested was that our troops in the Middle East were going from success to success. After the news, the set was dismantled and stored away in its hiding place.

After nearly six months of waiting, hoping and experimenting, we had at last brought to a prison camp, the British news. I honestly believe that that was the only radio ever constructed and maintained by P.O.W.s in a P.O.W. camp during the war. It had turned out to be a success thanks to the untiring efforts of W.O. West.

We did not spread the news among all and sundry, but only to W.O.s whom we could trust and to men who knew of the set. The two New Zealand medical officers were also kept up to date with events. From then onwards, everything went like a breeze; we listened in every other evening. It was essential that we preserve the dry batteries and for this reason, the set was only used during the time when the overseas news was being broadcast.

W.O. West and I were considering yet another prison break. It consisted of crawling through a sewer to a riverbed some short distance away. It was to be done in the nude, naturally; clothing being taken along in waterproof containers. From my own particular point of view, it couldn鈥檛 be done and in any case, it wasn鈥檛 a job I relished, yet, I was always game for anything in the line of escapes. My companion was going to make an attempt at escaping, then so was I. I鈥檓 pleased to say however, that the attempt was never made.

In September 1943, a rumour started in the camp to the effect that Italy had signed an armistice. This rumour came from a reliable quarter and refused to die. W.O. West and I scuttled across to the clothing store earlier than usual to try to get something genuine on the situation. It was true, Italy had capitulated. Every person in camp was virtually mad. There was singing and shouting; battle cries filled the camp from end to end. Everyone was happy. The Italian colonel in charge of the camp sent for the British camp leader and told him the news officially. He said he wanted the men to behave like Britishers and not to break out of camp or cause any disturbances. When asked what would happen if the Germans arrived, the officer stated that he would resist with every means at his disposal and the prison gates would be opened to permit the prisoners to escape. The camp leader was satisfied and returned to camp. He called a general parade and instructed the men to remain calm and not to break out of camp etc. etc. The men were informed that the Italian Colonel had given his word to resist if the Germans arrived. That was sufficient for the men, they were happy. The singing and dancing continued into the night.

The Italian鈥檚 word however was useless; the Germans arrived next morning and were received with open arms. Not a single shot was fired. The Italian police surrounded the camp before their arrival and put paid to any chance of escape. In other words, we were given the famous double cross.

But the radio, what happened to it? The last time I saw it, it was sitting snugly in the fake bottom of a travelling case en route to Germany. W.O. West said goodbye to it, somewhere in the north of Italy. Another escape had been arranged.

PR-BR

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