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2:00

Hello and welcome to a new

2:02

series of family stories. The podcast

2:05

written by you, our listeners. This

2:07

week's Family Stories, takes us on

2:09

a wild ride, beginning with an

2:11

unexpected discovery in a pair of

2:13

old flying boots. An ending with

2:15

a surprise, We Have Ways, Reconnection.

2:17

This week, we're starting with a

2:19

story from Stephen Bennet. Stephen writes,

2:22

here is a family story with a

2:24

difference, as it's about someone else's family.

2:26

The subject is flight sergeant sergeant... W-O-P-A-G,

2:28

Thomas Henry Shert, known as Harry. It

2:30

all started years ago when I bought

2:32

a pair of flying boots for my

2:34

collection on a well-known auction site. The

2:36

boots have belonged to Captain Johnny Aishford,

2:39

R-A-F, and in one of the boots

2:41

was a poignant letter from a Mrs

2:43

Hilda Shert. Thanking Johnny and the crew

2:45

for looking after her son Harry after

2:47

he'd been mortally wounded on their mission.

2:49

This started a 20-year quest to find

2:51

out what had happened to Harry. on

2:53

that last fateful mission. I wrote to

2:56

the REF, but as I was not

2:58

a family member, they wouldn't help. And

3:00

having no experience with these searches, I

3:02

got nowhere. Until it was the 100th

3:04

anniversary of the First World War, and

3:06

my wife Sally and I were at

3:08

a First World War, and my wife

3:10

Sally and I were at a First

3:13

World War battlefield visitor center in Belgium.

3:15

There were terminals allowing visitors to look

3:17

up military records. I put in Harry's

3:19

name, and there it was. The record

3:21

on the screen showed everything I had

3:23

everything I'd once again. It remained that

3:25

way until COVID hit. Lock down and

3:27

board I decided to have a look

3:30

at Dove Hole's in Derbyshire, Harry's hometown.

3:32

I went on Google Maps Streetview and

3:34

went for a walk around. To my

3:36

surprise I found a war memorial with

3:38

Harry's name on it. My wife Sally

3:40

then went on Facebook and found a

3:42

Dove Hole's community page where she posted

3:44

our search. We received a reply putting

3:47

us in touch with Katie Tanfield who

3:49

was Harry's great niece. It turned out

3:51

that Katie had only recently found out

3:53

about her great uncle. and had been

3:55

researching the family. Soon as restrictions were

3:57

lifted, Sally and I packed our bags

3:59

and headed for Derbyshire. We visited the

4:01

War Memorial, saw Harry's house and the

4:04

family stone in the graveyard where he's

4:06

remembered. We met up with Katie and

4:08

gave her the letter and in return

4:10

she showed us a book about dove

4:12

holes in which Harry's story is recorded.

4:14

It showed pictures of his funeral and

4:16

gave an account of his death. This

4:18

account turned out to be incorrect, but

4:21

more of this later. We thought that

4:23

this was the end of our journey

4:25

with Harry, and then went home. But

4:27

the following year, Mark Smith of antique

4:29

roadshow fame was to give a talk

4:31

to a local society on armistice day.

4:33

I was asked by the organiser to

4:35

provide some military props for the stage.

4:38

Mark started his talk by explaining how

4:40

reading his father's flying logs as a

4:42

boy got him interested in militaria. I

4:44

approached Mark at the end of the

4:46

end of the talk and mentioned that

4:48

I had a poignant letter from Hilda

4:50

Sheraert about her son. Look to me

4:52

and said, not Harry shirt from Dove

4:55

holes. I of course said yes, and

4:57

asked how he knew the name. Mark

4:59

said that if not for Harry, he

5:01

wouldn't be here, and then relayed the

5:03

following story. Harry shirt and Les Smith

5:05

Mark's dad were best mates and served

5:07

on the same crew in 240 squadron

5:09

assigned to a Catalina flying boat under

5:12

Johnny Aishford. Their missions often involved dropping

5:14

agents behind the Japanese lines and it

5:16

was this mission that they were supposed

5:18

to fly that night. However, another crew

5:20

took the spy and they were tasked

5:22

with a diversionary flight to drop propaganda

5:24

leaflets over enemy held territory. Mark's father

5:26

wrote an account of their mission in

5:29

his diary in which he recalls... I

5:31

had dropped five bundles of leaflets on

5:33

their targets and was about to drop

5:35

another when Harry tapping on the shoulder

5:37

and said it was his turn to

5:39

have some fun. We swapped places and

5:41

I went back to radio duties. Harry

5:43

dropped bundles six to ten and had

5:46

just released drop number 11 as we

5:48

flew over a Japanese Navy base and

5:50

all hell broke loose. What happened over

5:52

the next few minutes was mayhem. A

5:54

round from the... ground fire initially aimed

5:56

at the white mass of leaflets coming

5:58

from the starboard blister, hit Harry and

6:00

mortally wounded him. The plane took evasive

6:03

action but was hit by dozens of

6:05

rounds coming up from the ground. Two

6:07

other crew members, Vic Crawford and Ray

6:09

Reed, were hit but not seriously wounded

6:11

and the plane was riddled with holes.

6:13

Mark's dad got onto the radio and

6:15

called for help, eventually raising a U.S.

6:17

basic kiw, who agreed to let them

6:20

land there and would arrange medical aid.

6:22

He then went back and held Harry's

6:24

hand and was talking to him when

6:26

he died. As Mark said, had they

6:28

not swapped places, he would never have

6:30

been born. I now had the full

6:32

story and could relay it to Katie.

6:34

However, there's just one more twist. In

6:37

June 2023, I saw the Antiques Roadshow

6:39

was coming to Swanage, Dorset, near my

6:41

home. I applied to go on the

6:43

show and took the flying boots. Mark

6:45

and I did a piece to camera

6:47

during which I told Harry story and

6:49

he told his dad's. At the end

6:51

of filming I handed Mark the Boots

6:54

as he knew Johnny Hford as a

6:56

friend of his father's and I said

6:58

I thought he should keep them. It

7:00

made several of the online papers. I

7:02

do hope that you find the time

7:04

to include this on the pod and

7:06

look forward to seeing you at We

7:08

Have Ways Festival. Well we have and

7:11

we look forward to seeing you too

7:13

Stephen so thank you for that. And

7:15

that was from Stephen Bennet. I

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10:59

The next story is from Alan King. I'm

11:01

a new listener to your podcast, so

11:03

a lot of catching up to do.

11:05

Well, keep going, Alan. My family story

11:07

is about my uncle, Frederick James King,

11:09

more commonly known as John King. He joined

11:11

the Royal Navy in April 1941 training

11:14

as an anti-aircraft gunner and was

11:16

assigned HMS Eskimo in the Chatham

11:18

destroyer fleet on convoy duty. With

11:20

the terrible losses on the convoys,

11:22

he was very concerned about his

11:24

future. So one time on a shore leave,

11:26

he decided to consult a fortune teller. Reading

11:28

his palm, the fortune teller told him he

11:31

had a long lifeline, would survive the war

11:33

and lived to the ripe old age of

11:35

67. He found this very reassuring and carried

11:37

on. During the war he served on the

11:39

Russian convoys, Operation Pedestal to Malta, ancient mist

11:41

and lightning for three days before it was

11:43

torpedoed, and then returned to Eskimo for it

11:46

to be hit by dive bombers right by

11:48

his gun station before moving on to Corvettes

11:50

on the African convoys. After the war, he

11:52

returned to life as a butcher in a

11:54

local supermarket supermarket supermarket supermarket. However. As

11:57

he got older he became increasingly

11:59

worried about what the Fortune teller

12:01

had said. After his 66th birthday,

12:03

he was very worried indeed, waiting

12:05

for the approach of the Grim

12:07

Reaper. Thankfully though, the Grim Reaper

12:09

did not materialize and John kept

12:11

going. Frequently attending reunions of the

12:13

Arctic Convo Association and he was

12:15

also invited to Malta by the

12:17

Maltese government for the Operation Pedestel's

12:19

60th anniversary before finally crossing the

12:22

bar in his early 90s. And

12:24

I was there at that 60th

12:26

anniversary and I probably met him.

12:28

That was from Alan King. The

12:30

next story comes from Ryan Alder.

12:32

Below is my great-grandfather's story. Thanks

12:34

for doing this sort of thing.

12:36

It allows the stories to be

12:38

shared once again and so they

12:40

are not forgotten. My great-grandfather was

12:42

a man named Ralph Burrell. He

12:44

was born in 1913 in Gainesborough

12:46

Lincolnshire. Ralph enlisted in Edinburgh in

12:49

July 1940 and served with the

12:51

16th Battalion Durham Light Infantry. Ralph

12:53

became a prisoner of war when

12:55

he was captured in Tunisia, North

12:57

Africa, during the Battle of Saginain.

12:59

As a prisoner of war, Ralph

13:01

was transported to Italy and spent

13:03

time in the prisoner of war

13:05

camp, Campo 66 at Naples. Following

13:07

the Italian surrender, Ralph was one

13:09

of the thousands of men that

13:11

escaped during the mass breakout of

13:13

prisons of prisons of war in

13:16

Italy. This was before the Germans

13:18

took over the administration of the

13:20

administration of the campss. The family

13:22

story goes that Ralph and another

13:24

prisoner of war were on the

13:26

run together. Along the way Ralph

13:28

and the other escape prisoner acquired

13:30

a piece of ham. They would

13:32

offer some of the ham to

13:34

Italian civilians in exchange for shelter

13:36

and for the civilians to cook

13:38

the ham. They were recaptured after

13:40

six weeks by the Germans. After

13:43

Ralph's recapture he was sent on

13:45

to various prisoner of war camps,

13:47

including Stalag 7A at Mooseburg, before

13:49

ending up at Stalag 344 near

13:51

the village of Lamstorf in Poland.

13:53

He was a surface labourer at

13:55

work camp E758. In January it

13:57

is believed Ralph into the long

13:59

march in which thousands of POUs

14:01

marched west. After the war Ralph

14:03

became a pub landlord in the

14:05

village of Gringley on the Hill

14:07

Nottinghamshire. He died in 1988 in

14:09

his bungalow in Scrooby Nottinghamshire. The

14:12

reason I mentioned the story of

14:14

Ralph escaping with another POU is

14:16

because amongst Ralph's wartime belongings is

14:18

a photograph of Prisons of war.

14:20

But Ralph is not in this

14:22

photograph. It has stamped on the

14:24

back, 6726 G Simpson, stalag 21D.

14:26

G Simpson was with the Gordon

14:28

Highlanders and was also a POW.

14:30

He was born in 1918 in

14:32

Ellen Aberdeenshire. As a family we

14:34

are uncertain as to why Ralph

14:36

hung onto this photo all his

14:39

life. The only theory we have

14:41

is that Ralph escaped with G

14:43

Simpson in Italy, hence why he

14:45

kept the photograph. I am currently

14:47

in the process of trying to

14:49

find a living relative to G

14:51

Simpson. If the escape story rings

14:53

any bells any bells for the

14:55

listeners, please do get in touch.

14:57

That story was from Ryanan Alda.

14:59

Our next story is from Daniel

15:01

Koeffler. Daniel writes, I almost dropped

15:03

my tools during work today whilst

15:06

listening to your episode one about

15:08

Auschwitz, when you mentioned the family

15:10

name of a classmate of mine.

15:12

It wasn't new to me that

15:14

his grandfather was in a concentration

15:16

camp during the war, but being

15:18

a teenager at the time, I

15:20

didn't ask any further when I

15:22

first heard the story. So the

15:24

few sentences you mentioned about him

15:26

already opened a door to my

15:28

curiosity. I've never met the man,

15:30

but I'm still very close to

15:33

his grandson, Daniel Langbine, an Austrian

15:35

actor. Apart from the hair, he

15:37

and his grandfather are doppelgangers really.

15:39

What a courageous and upright man

15:41

his grandfather was. I'm obviously planning

15:43

to read all his books. Not

15:45

like sheep to the shambles, slaughterhouse,

15:47

is quite an impressive title really.

15:49

Anyway, keep up the amazing work.

15:51

And a fun fact, when the

15:53

inmates suddenly got fed sweet potatoes

15:55

day in day out, they thought

15:57

this had to be a new

16:00

clever cruel joke. the Germans to

16:02

make them suffer. Only after the

16:04

war, Herman learned it was simply

16:06

very cheap to produce them. Needless

16:08

to say, it's not a vegetable

16:10

very cherished in their family, even

16:12

today. And that story was from

16:14

Daniel Koeffler. My grandfather, Samuel Thomas

16:16

Warren, was called up in the

16:18

Second World War and served in

16:20

the 8th Army in North Africa,

16:22

Sicily and Italy. He was a

16:24

driver, spanning everything from staff cars

16:27

to tank transports, but said he

16:29

spent much of his time driving

16:31

three-ton trucks. He spoke very little

16:33

about any fighting, a rare exception

16:35

being to describe what he claimed

16:37

was his nearest brush with death.

16:39

It occurred somewhere in Italy after

16:41

his unit had pushed north from

16:43

the landings at Anzio. He found

16:45

himself driving a three-toned Bedford, fully

16:47

loaded with ammunition, up a steep

16:49

single track road cut into a

16:51

near vertical cliff face, when a

16:53

lone stuka spotted him and attempted

16:56

to strafe him. With nowhere to

16:58

go, and no hope of cover,

17:00

all he could do was keep

17:02

driving as fast as he could

17:04

and hope it missed. When he

17:06

was called up, my mother had

17:08

just started school alongside her sister.

17:10

It was three years before he

17:12

got home leave, which meant he

17:14

was on leave two weeks after

17:16

D-day. Walking around Hartford, his hometown,

17:18

on his first day home, he

17:20

finally got fed up with folk

17:23

calling him a D-Day Dodger and

17:25

flawed the next man who said

17:27

it. He thus spent his second

17:29

night home in the police cell

17:31

before he was released with a

17:33

caution. He was bitter about the

17:35

D-Day Dodger slur when applied to

17:37

his comrades who'd fought through North

17:39

Africa and Italy until his death

17:41

in the 1980s. That story was

17:43

from Ian Davis. The

17:51

next story comes from Rory Stark. In the

17:53

spirit of stories of wartime daring do,

17:55

I thought I'd share a story from my

17:58

great uncle, squadron leader Lawrence... Pinky Stark, DFC,

18:00

always known to everyone as Pinky, who was

18:02

a prominent typhoon ace during the war, primarily

18:04

with 609 Squadron, with whom he served as

18:07

CEO by the end of the war. Well,

18:09

I've got to say, Rory, I know all

18:11

about Pinky Stark. I'm a big fan of

18:14

609 Squadron there. Probably my favourite squadron, really.

18:16

Anyway, this story relates to his escape

18:18

from France following the down of his typhoon

18:20

in late July, July, 1944. And his escape

18:22

aided by members of the French resistance. on

18:25

the 31st of July 1944, he was flying

18:27

a ramrod raid with two six three squadron

18:29

to attack the power station at the Gurlardand

18:32

Dam in Brittany, when on the return flight

18:34

he was struck by flack, leading to catastrophic

18:36

engine damage resulting in a forced bail near

18:38

Kirkpert in Brittany. I will let Pinky

18:40

take the story from here, as after he

18:43

died we found a self-pend recollection of the

18:45

event. So Pinky writes, on Monday the 31st

18:47

of July 1944... I first set foot on

18:50

French soil for a short but most interesting

18:52

visit. For this 10-day holiday, I have to

18:54

thank an unknown German anti-aircraft gunner, who, for

18:56

once in his life, managed to shoot straight

18:59

with devastating effect on the engine of the

19:01

plane I was piloting. Thus, at 20

19:03

minutes to 3 on that Monday afternoon, I

19:05

found myself standing in the centre of a

19:08

ploug field, entangled in the shroud lines of

19:10

a parachute. I was covered in mud with

19:12

a large rip in my right trousers leg.

19:14

Having managed to free myself from the silk

19:17

cords of the shoot, I was able to

19:19

look around and take stock of the situation.

19:21

A couple of the boys were still circling

19:24

overhead, presumably waiting to see if I'd

19:26

survived the jump. And as I watched, one

19:28

of them flew low across the field and

19:30

waved. I waved back to him, thinking that

19:32

at least Joan, my wife, and the family

19:35

would know that I was still alive and

19:37

on my feet. Just as I disappeared from

19:39

view, I heard a news sound. different from

19:42

the roar of a Napier engine. It didn't

19:44

take me long to realize that my aircraft

19:46

had crashed much nearer to me than

19:48

I'd fought and was now a fiercely burning

19:50

mass. Intermingled with the crackling of the fire

19:53

was an occasional bang as a cannon shell

19:55

exploded. My immediate reaction to that was to

19:57

get as far away from the wreckage as

20:00

I could. so I'd legged it on one

20:02

shoe and my right trousers leg flapping behind

20:04

me. No mean feet in a deeply ploughed

20:06

field. As I was nearing the hedger, I

20:09

became aware of two pairs of eyes

20:11

peering at me over the hedge. They were

20:13

quite still, and making no attempt to join

20:15

me, so I presumed they were not hostile.

20:18

I waved to them to come over, and

20:20

after a brief discussion, they came through an

20:22

opening in the hedge, and rather hesitating. Although

20:24

French had been my best subject to school,

20:27

I hadn't used it in six years. However,

20:29

I decided to have a girl and said,

20:31

Voulévou Maider. They had a whispered conversation

20:33

and several times glanced at my point 38

20:36

pistol. Their answer was to shake their head's

20:38

vigorously and repeat pistol. Their answer was to

20:40

shake their head's bigotry and repeat, Le Bosch.

20:43

Le Bosch. They were looking past me towards

20:45

another field and I thought that they might

20:47

be looking at German soldiers. I assured them

20:49

that I was quite all right, which seemed

20:52

to relieve them immensely. When I pointed to

20:54

my parachute lying in the field, I

20:56

made signs that I wanted it buried, the

20:58

one with the spade under his arm put

21:01

up his thumb, and I was now quite

21:03

certain that I was in friendly hands. The

21:05

few words that there had exchanged with me

21:07

had been in French, but they suddenly lapsed

21:10

into a different language that I presumed was

21:12

Bretonese, not unlike some of the Gaelic speakers

21:14

I had met when visiting my relatives on

21:17

the Black Isle. This exchange resulted in

21:19

the boy who was wearing a scout uniform,

21:21

beckoning me to follow him. Going through the

21:23

high hedge brought us to a landscape that

21:25

was not altogether unpleasant to view. First, there

21:28

was no sign of any large towns where

21:30

there might be an enemy garrison. And I

21:32

recognized the forest of Maluen that I had

21:35

noted on my map in the targeted area.

21:37

For as far as I could see, there

21:39

was no rush of grey uniforms looking

21:41

to capture me. We headed towards a small

21:43

farmhouse. And as we headed towards a small

21:46

farmhouse. He gestured to me to go into

21:48

his shed with the words, A tunde. He

21:50

disappeared. When he had gone, I buried my

21:53

badges of rank beneath a pile of... sacking

21:55

in a corner of the shed. At least

21:57

four hours passed before I heard voices and

21:59

footsteps and the door was carefully opened. It

22:02

was semi-dark and I found myself being

22:04

propelled towards a faint light coming from the

22:06

open farmhouse door. Once inside there was a

22:08

sudden dramatic change of the atmosphere. One of

22:11

the group stepped from behind me and pointed

22:13

a gun at my midriff. He buckled my

22:15

holster and removed my point 38. Despite this...

22:17

I still had the feeling that I was

22:20

in friendly hands. This notion was confirmed and

22:22

after a few deft questions from the man

22:24

holding the gun, I was accepted as

22:26

a British pilot. My interrogator assured me that

22:29

he was a member of the Marquis and

22:31

that all would be well. Then followed a

22:33

lot of handshaking and offers of wine and

22:35

food. My point 38 was returned with the

22:38

announcement that tomorrow I would be escorted to

22:40

a place of safety. A young girl who

22:42

I took to be the daughter of the

22:45

house kept looking at my ripped trousers and

22:47

eventually she appeared with a blanket draped

22:49

over her arm and a needle and cotton

22:51

in her hand. She made signs for me

22:53

to divest myself of my trousers and handed

22:56

me the blanket. This wasn't a time for

22:58

false modesty so I obliged and sometime later

23:00

I was handed a neatly repaired pair of

23:03

battle dress trousers. To complete the transformation I

23:05

was given a pair of German boots at

23:07

least two sizes too large and an old

23:09

well worn stained jacket. At least I

23:11

was less conspicuous than before, and with upturned

23:14

thumbs, I was reassured by all those present

23:16

that I was okay. With a pat on

23:18

the shoulder, the Mackey member told me he

23:21

would return the next day and take me

23:23

to one of their units. I was always

23:25

used to walking in boots way too large

23:28

for me when he returned, and we headed

23:30

northwards to the forest, several hundred yards in

23:32

on a securitous path. We reached the

23:34

Mackey unit. It turned out to be a

23:36

large arms depot with two guards. with sign

23:39

language and poor attempts at a French conversation,

23:41

I finally understood that I was to take

23:43

my turn on guard duty. Not a lot

23:46

was spoken as the other two guards spoke

23:48

only in Bretonies, and I was relieved two

23:50

days later to hear the sound of voices

23:52

coming towards us. There was no attempt at

23:55

concealment of their presence as they were

23:57

singing and laughing as they entered the dump.

23:59

One of the leading... figures approached me and

24:01

asked my rank. When I responded flight lieutenant,

24:04

he threw his arms around me and exclaimed,

24:06

Ah, Mon Capitaine! He explained he'd been a

24:08

lieutenant in the French airborne forces. From that

24:10

moment, I resumed my officer status and was

24:13

always addressed as Mon Capitaine. There are about

24:15

10 in the group and I was told

24:17

that I was to come with them

24:19

to the local Mackey HQ and meet the

24:22

others. I followed in single file through the

24:24

woods until we came to their headquarters. There

24:26

was a round of applause at my arrival

24:28

and a great deal of handshaking and embracing

24:31

that embarrassed me at first, but it seemed

24:33

to be the regular greeting among them. The

24:35

parallel lieutenant was the local leader of the

24:38

resistance group, and he was an interesting character.

24:40

Apparently he threw the tricolor from a

24:42

long flagpole in front of his house, and

24:44

despite the odd challenge from German troops, he

24:46

continued this defiant practice. Eventually I was shown

24:49

to a small tent and told that it

24:51

was to be my billet. This was as

24:53

near to luxury as I had been for

24:56

a few days and the sight and sound

24:58

of a small radio tuned into the BBC

25:00

was a missing link to home news. As

25:02

well as a radio there was a

25:04

cutthroat razor and some ersat soap and I

25:07

looked forward to a shave. It was explained

25:09

to me that part of my duties was

25:11

to listen to the coded messages and relay

25:14

them to the operational officer. Then I was

25:16

offered a proposition. Stay with the Mackey and

25:18

become an active fighter against the German occupiers

25:20

or go down the escapies route to Britain.

25:23

The choice was simple for me. I told

25:25

them I was much more useful as

25:27

a typhoon pilot and I wanted to get

25:29

back at the enemy for shooting me down.

25:32

This was accepted and I became a temporary

25:34

member of that small group of resistance fighters.

25:36

The radio had an extra bonus for me,

25:38

as an extra bonus for me, as I

25:41

was able to keep up with the news

25:43

coming from the Normandy beachhead. I felt a

25:45

pang of remorse when I realised that some

25:48

of my chums were in the thick

25:50

of the battle and it made me patient

25:52

to get back across the channel and reserved

25:54

for my flying duties. even if I was

25:56

the only person listening to the radio. Unfortunately,

25:59

the razor that looked so impressive proved to

26:01

be blunt, and after 10 minutes scraping on

26:03

the right side of my cheek, I was

26:06

still feeling stubble and tenderness. Since I'd never

26:08

had a beard... before. I thought this might

26:10

be an opportunity to see if I

26:12

look like my grandfather. On my third day

26:14

there, one of the coded messages produced an

26:17

immediate reaction from the leader. He explained to

26:19

me that there was to be a drop

26:21

of supplies on a nearby plateau that night,

26:24

and we had to get things organized. Half

26:26

an hour later, he returned and gave me

26:28

my instructions. I had to go to the

26:31

nearby convent to escort some nuns along with

26:33

their pupils, who wanted to witness the

26:35

drop. At first, I thought that it might

26:37

be a joke. But his insistence and his

26:39

detail of where and when I had to

26:42

become involved soon made it clear that this

26:44

was part of the exercise. I followed the

26:46

route he'd given me and soon found the

26:49

convent. Standing on the steps were three nuns

26:51

and five excited children pointing at me and

26:53

the word, on clay, could be heard from

26:55

time to time. I gave them a

26:57

wave and that was a signal for them

27:00

to rush towards me, chattering, unfamiliar greetings. The

27:02

three nuns came down the stairs in a

27:04

more dignified way and proffered their hands in

27:07

friendship. Louis, the paralept tenant, had drawn a

27:09

rough map to direct me to the dropping

27:11

area, and with a quick glance at the

27:13

route, we set off. There didn't seem to

27:16

be any difficulties in the gradual walk-up hill

27:18

to the flat piece of ground selected

27:20

for the drop. The children were about 50

27:22

yards ahead, the children were about 50 yards

27:25

ahead of their mentors and me, when they

27:27

stopped at the top of a slight rise

27:29

in the ground. When they sat down and

27:31

started to take off their shoes and socks,

27:34

I, I knew something that was a river.

27:36

This was absent on Louis's map, but was

27:38

obviously going to be no problem to the

27:41

kids. As I started to take off

27:43

my boots, it occurred to me that the

27:45

nuns might have a little difficulty in making

27:47

the crossing. Their long, heavy black dresses would

27:49

become a tonne weight if they got soaked,

27:52

and they got soaked, and by this time

27:54

they were showing no signs of even divesting

27:56

their shoes and thick black stockings. The solution

27:59

came into my mind very quickly, I thought

28:01

I was insulting them. So I knelt down

28:03

and demonstrated with one of the children

28:05

how I would take them over the river.

28:07

The expression on their faces made it. obvious

28:10

that I was going to have a special

28:12

place on their rosaries. The expression on my

28:14

face was suggesting that this was a damned

28:17

funny war. It wasn't long before we reached

28:19

the flat area where several of the Mackie

28:21

were putting the finishing touches to the Mackey

28:23

were putting the finishing touches to the bonfires

28:26

that would guide the planes delivering the

28:28

finishing touches to the bonfires that would guide

28:30

the bomb fires would put the bombers on

28:32

a cross-wind direction for the drop and perhaps

28:35

ruin the whole operation. As soon as I

28:37

suggested this to Louis, he rewarded me with

28:39

a swift embrace, before yelling out instructions to

28:41

his comrades, to replace the bonfires in the

28:44

place I thought was right for the bomber

28:46

pilots. The nuns played games with the children

28:48

until it became dark, when, with a

28:50

shouted command from Louis, everyone became silent and

28:53

listened out for the bombers. The children heard

28:55

them first, and made excited gestures to Louis,

28:57

who cupped his hand to his ear and

28:59

confirmed the approach. It was all over very

29:02

quickly. The bombers were at low level and

29:04

the released supplies were easily seen landing well

29:06

within the dropping zone. The planes were gone

29:09

as quickly as they came and everyone ran

29:11

to the parachutes and helped with the

29:13

untangling of the cords. The efficiency of the

29:15

whole organisation was evident when we carried the

29:18

supplies down the side of the hill, where

29:20

three lorries had appeared from nowhere. The goods

29:22

were loaded onto the first two lorries, and

29:24

then everyone, including the nuns and pupils, piled

29:27

into the third reno. As I dropped off

29:29

to sleep that night, I felt that I

29:31

had accomplished some little part in the fight

29:34

against Nazi tyranny. Louis appeared on the

29:36

afternoon of the second routine day, and the

29:38

beam on his face meant that he had

29:40

something good to tell me. Montcabitan, you are

29:42

going home! These were the words I've been

29:45

hoping to hear for the last eight days.

29:47

Hui, Montcabitan. The Shelburne group is coming for

29:49

you tomorrow, and you do as they say,

29:52

and you will soon be in England. Sure

29:54

enough, the next day as darkness fell, a

29:56

middle-aged woman dressed in plain clothing was

29:58

introduced to me as my guide on my

30:00

first steps to freedom. Saying goodbye to my

30:03

comrades was straightforward, apart from Louise and braces,

30:05

and a chorus of bonchants from the other

30:07

members. My guide hardly spoke for the... first

30:10

few miles, and when she did, it was

30:12

to halt me and whisper, equity. We would

30:14

stand for a bit as she listened for

30:16

any sign of anyone pursuing us. After an

30:19

hour, we stopped at a house, where

30:21

I was passed on to the next guide,

30:23

who proved to be a former member of

30:25

the French Navy. He was just as former

30:28

member of the French Navy. He was just

30:30

as taciturn as the first guide, and when

30:32

he had led me along his particular part

30:34

of the escape, he took me to the

30:37

beach. At about noon the next day, I

30:39

was summoned from my hideout, and introduced to

30:41

my final guide, another woman. But this

30:43

one was scarcely out of her teens. She

30:46

chatted away from the moment we left the

30:48

farmhouse, and she was able to tell me

30:50

that a few others and I would be

30:52

collected by the Royal Navy as soon as

30:55

it was dark. We walked from about five

30:57

miles before she indicated that we were at

30:59

the end of her part in the escape

31:02

route. A brief goodbye and I was ushered

31:04

into a farm building and found myself

31:06

in the presence of 15 other escapies like

31:08

me. They were addressed in an assortment of

31:10

clothing that allowed us to blend into the

31:13

countryside background. We chatted together but not giving

31:15

away too much information just in case there

31:17

was a traitor in our midst. Orders came

31:20

from the small boats for us to wade

31:22

out to them and climb aboard. The muffled

31:24

words from the Czech pilot I assumed were

31:26

oaths as assault Walter reached his wounds.

31:28

Transfer to the gunboat was swift and quietly

31:31

done and a kind able seaman handed me

31:33

an old pair of black plimpsils minus their

31:35

toes. The skipper then explained that in the

31:38

events of contact with the enemy we had

31:40

to lie flat on the deck as we

31:42

tried to outrun them. Since our particular craft

31:44

was fitted with three engines instead of a

31:47

customary two who were unlikely to be caught.

31:49

Thankfully the journey home was unevent and

31:51

we crept into Devonport under cover of darkness.

31:53

If we declined the offer, the skipper downed

31:56

it himself and by the time he came

31:58

to the last man, he'd ensured himself a

32:00

pretty solid hangover. With barely time for a

32:02

shower and breakfast, we were rushed to London

32:05

for debriefing. By mid-morning, the three of us

32:07

were waiting at R.E.F. Kingsway. London. I was

32:09

first in saluting a wing commander from behind

32:12

a battle battle dress, second-hand jacket and

32:14

toless plimp soles. My scarred face thanks to

32:16

a blunt razor didn't help. The wing commander,

32:18

all public school polish and no decorations, kept

32:21

interrupting my account of ten days in Brittany

32:23

until I gave up and kept my answers

32:25

brief. Dismissed with a wave, I asked for

32:27

a razor and a new uniform. He laughed.

32:30

This is the air ministry. We don't issue

32:32

those. Collect your past next door. Min minutes

32:34

later I stood on the pavement looking

32:36

like a pavement looking like a tramp. Heading

32:39

for a family friend nearby, I was stopped

32:41

by military police, my ragged trousers marking me

32:43

as a deserter. I gave them a colorful

32:45

RF explanation of my recent escape. They then

32:48

saluted, apologised, and wished me a good leave.

32:50

My father's friend was true to form and

32:52

I was supplied with a sharp bladed razor

32:55

and the loan of suit. At Houston, there

32:57

was a three-hour wait for a train

32:59

to Southport, but waiting was not the problem

33:01

now. I was nearly home. I was nearly

33:03

home. That evening I told the whole. She

33:06

took both of my hands in hers and

33:08

said with a straight face but laughing eyes,

33:10

and I suppose they want you to pay

33:13

for the typhoon. I knew I was home.

33:15

And that story was from Rory Stark. That's

33:17

all for this episode. If you've got a

33:19

family story you'd like to be considered

33:21

for the show, please email it to us

33:24

at We Have Ways podcast@gmail.com. Please label the

33:26

email, Family Stories, so we don't miss it.

33:28

Goodbye for now.