18/09/2024
18 September 1944
The Dakota landed at an airfield outside Bari as dawn approached. Medical staff were waiting to unload the wounded and rush them to the hospital, but otherwise, no one else was there to meet the escapees: once the ambulances were gone, they were alone apart from the ground crew. Ralph approached one of them to ask if anyone was coming.
‘Haven’t a bleeding clue, mate.’
They headed for the nearest compound and found a half-asleep duty sergeant, who woke a flying officer. He made some calls, leading to more calls, then more. While this military pantomime played out, Griff popped his head back out of the door.
‘Two more planes have landed,’ he announced. The transport hub for trucks wasn’t far off, and by the time the fourth and fifth planes had landed, there were lorries and even sandwiches to hand.
Leslie and Griff stayed behind to ensure the last plane arrived, and Ralph hopped into the cab of one of the trucks. The convoy’s Sergeant insisted Ralph regale them with tales from behind the lines.
‘Jesus, man!’ said the Sergeant when Ralph was done. ‘You must have been desperate to get home.’
The drive was short: the escapees were deposited in an empty barracks belonging to the British 8th Army. Ralph watched with pride as truckloads of passengers filtered in his railway crew, the farm lads, the Frenchmen, the airman Melrose, Heslop and his escapees. They had made it. They were free.
But soon, Leslie and Griffin turned up with bad tidings. The sixth plane had not arrived; it had suffered an engine failure on the ground. The stricken Dakota had been camouflaged, and the remaining escapees had returned to Semič. It could have been worse; it was better to have an engine failure on the ground than in the air. Still, the absence of twenty of their number weighed heavy as Ralph fell asleep.
‘Wakey, wakey! Rise and shine!’ an English lance corporal was shouting. ‘Time for a wash-up and a brush-up!’ It was strange to be returned to a proper barracks after so many years. Hot showers compensated for any culture shock. Oh, what a glorious feeling!
The first day outside N**i territory went in a flash. Each man received a medical and was cautioned against excessive eating or drinking after the privations of the escape. An officer informed Leslie and Ralph that an engineer was being dropped to repair the last plane. The next day, new clothing and mess kits were issued. Ralph retained his battered old hat, though, now well into its fifth year; there was no way he could lay his hands on a fresh one – the 8th Army didn’t have any in its stores.
On parade, a stern officer warned against speaking to anyone about the escape: doing so could endanger the lives of the Partisans and the many escapees and pilots still to come. The men took the point while feeling a total vow of silence was excessive. Each was then given a piece of paper to write a telegram home.
It was lucky for Ralph that Ronte was living with his parents; he could immediately let them know. ‘ESCAPED SAFE WELL’, read his message. A longer aerogramme was also issued, which would take a week to reach home.
That night, Ralph and Leslie were woken to be told the sixth plane had landed; the last escapees were on their way. Total rescued as a result of their escape: ninety-nine prisoners of war. Fifteen minutes later, the latecomers entered the barracks. Ralph yelled with delight and ran to his friend: Kit Carson was among the passengers! Now it was 100.
The poor bloke had had a longer road here than his fellow captives. After the ambush at the farmhouse, Kit had run deep into the forest, most likely to the north. By good fortune, a few Partisans from a remote mountainous odred, the Koroška Odred, had been heading to the courier station and found Kit. As the courier station was destroyed, they returned him to their HQ in the Kamnik-Savinja Alps. From there, he’d made his way south with more couriers and finally reached Semič on 20 September – too late for the leading group, but in time to catch the sixth and final Dakota.
The party complete, each man underwent an exhaustive interrogation from MI9. All were sworn to the strictest secrecy. They could tell no one any detail of their escape, not their families, spouses, or even comrades. Each escapee signed the following document:
WARNING AGAINST GIVING INFORMATION WHICH MAY BE OF VALUE TO THE ENEMY
This applies to members of all British, American, Dominion, and Imperial Services and continues even after discharge.
1. It is the duty of all persons to safeguard information which might be useful, directly or indirectly, to the enemy. Such information includes details of any attempted or premeditated escapes and information of a secret nature of which a P/W may have obtained knowledge whilst in captivity.
2. It is an offence, punishable with imprisonment, to publish or communicate to any unauthorised person any information or anything purporting to be information on any matter that would or might be directly or indirectly useful to the enemy.
3. Information regarding escapes by Prisoners of War, including attempted or premeditated escapes as well as any information of a secret nature of which you have obtained knowledge while in captivity, should be communicated only to an Intelligence Officer or to such other persons as are officially authorised to interview you.
You won't be able to communicate any information to the Press or to representatives of any Red Cross Society.
I have read this warning and understand that I will be liable to disciplinary action if I disclose to anyone information of the kind mentioned above.
Ralph and Leslie then underwent a second joint interrogation, this time by a posh colonel with a large, hoof-shaped moustache. Ralph wondered if he was the model for the cartoon character Colonel Blimp.
‘There’s been a lot of fuss made over this,’ harrumphed the Colonel, ‘but what you’ve done isn’t remarkable.’ He unfurled a map of Slovenia. ‘Look: you’ve covered barely 100 miles as The Crow flies. Can’t understand why more of our fellows aren’t doing it.’
‘Maybe, sir’, replied Ralph, ‘it’s because they’re not bloody crows.’ Leslie paled.
Under his whiskers, the Colonel muttered, ‘Australians . . .’
Ralph returned the following day and found a more sympathetic intelligence officer to tell the story, too. The officer asked Ralph to write a detailed report. True to his word to Leslie, Ralph wrote a remarkable testimonial. He noted everything Leslie had done to launch the escape and asked that he be considered for an award.
Unbeknownst to Ralph, Captain Heslop was doing the same on Ralph’s behalf. There was no Australian presence in the Mediterranean anymore – the AIF had gone home to fight.
Japan—so a particular office of the New Zealand 2nd Division, still in the Mediterranean after all these years, looked after any Australians who happened to pass by. Heslop sought them out and recounted everything, recommending that Ralph be decorated.
The escapees were separated and billeted by British and New Zealand forces. A fair sum of spending money was handed out, not that there was much to spend it on. Separated from the Brits, Ralph spent most of his time with Griff, Phil, and Bob, while Kit was probably bedridden, having used every ounce of strength to catch up.
A few days later, Anzacs and Brits moved on to Naples, which proved far more agreeable. Though the city had been devastated by Allied, then Axis bombing campaigns, the escapees could visit the opera and Pompeii. Once again, Ralph felt more like a tourist than a soldier, but this time, he thought he’d earned it.
