February 16th, 1944
My team can sense the moment- day after day of slaving away at the tunnel, and our hands growing tired with the movement of our writing wrists, and the sand-bag carriers carrying load after load: the time is finally upon us. Big X, (Roger Bushell) can anticipate it, and has been upping the bribes with the German 'ferrets' recently. (These are the specialist German guards, posted to maintain security, and are often checking under the stilted buildings for any sand, as this would signify that a tunnel was underway. What they wouldn't know, however, was how many tunnels. Yes, Big X's masterstroke of using three tunnels, Tom, Dick, and Harry, is showing its worth now, as we are ready to abort at any sign of the Germans discovering our tunnel. The hours I have slaved away in the false papers department is no easier; the forms have to be stroke perfect if they are to pass by the German soldiers manning the train stations, which we would use as our escape route. Worse still, we need to do this for loads of men, and the Big X department is feeling the strain. We know we are pushed for time, and if the Germans were to find any one of our tunnels, it would be disastrous, especially should it be anywhere now; this is the crucial point in the plan. Anyway, there is hardly anything more to do, but the littlest things are often the most important; we know that without the false papers we will be sitting ducks for the Nazi soldiers, and without the false clothes, we will be obviously not locals, and I could go on for ages. Even though we have seemingly enough time, I know that we will be pushed: and with the escape looming, a one day delay could be disastrous.
Anyhow, we know that the hardest part isn't the escape: getting out of Germany will be pushing our luck, but fortunately for the team, most of us have planned ahead and know somewhere to go. Myself, I'm still thinking that up. But my travel plan is simple: from the nearest station, I'll catch a train to near the Belgian border, get myself across, and then from there it is just the simple job of getting from there to Spain. I'm planning on going through the Netherlands, but this is all a work in the making. In fact, I shouldn't be talking about this. It will end up being a grave mistake should the Germans find this.
March 24th, 1944
The day of the escape is finally here! The last preparations are just being done down below in the tunnel, the candles have been put in, and we are just waiting now. So, the escape system: I suppose you could call it a "cart track" as the mode of getting through will literally be on rails, with our belongings with us (hence the name of the halfway points Trafalgar Square and Picadilly Circus). Once we get to the exit- there's a ladder to climb up- we wait underground, as the man before us makes his run to the forest, before giving three sharp tugs. This is vital, seeing as the German watches will be watching our every move, (they are huge on the security, and rightly so, it seems) and if the spotlight was to cast over us it would all be over. I am now just getting ready to board the "train".
So, the exit: it is what you might call dingy, (but being in a POW camp for ages cancelled that out) but it was also well ventilated- the ventilation crew had done exceptionally well. The small rope ladder is three people in front of me, and looks sturdy enough. Up goes one, now only two away... Oh, the anticipation! The nerves are the thing: once you get into the action that's the easiest part...
July 21st, 1944
And I'm across! The Spanish border is just fading into the distance, and for the first time in a long time I can finally say I am in a neutral country! Though I should be careful what I say: while Spain may well be officially neutral, they are all for Nazis using their country to do their evil deeds. My journey via France has been exciting; with many a near death experience just around the corner, I am cautious in any action I take.
First mission is to contact someone. Although we are strictly prisoners, it is a remote town, and we are not in much trouble as of yet. Anyway, the news has just hit me- it's devastating. 76 managed to escape in total before the alarm was sounded. And I've just been told that of us that got out three of us managed to successfully escape, (including me), but 21 were put back in Stalag Luft, the 'inescapable' POW camp. But as for the other fifty- slaughtered, murdered in cold blood by Gestapo operatives, killed for doing their duty. I don't know what to say. I have no words for the evildoing of the horrid Nazi people, but I can only imagine if I was to be one of the unfortunate- well I can't say few- many.
Just three? That's a disaster! What was meant to be the biggest military escape in history has just blown up, and now we're in deep trouble. Anyway, after a few quick words with the officer this evening, (we're still prisoners though) we have demanded to be returned to our respective embassies, as is the law of the Geneva Convention. So I'm going home... but I feel so empty, so useless. But I'm going home. I should be positive, but there is just nothing that will make me forget this day, this day of murder, of killing, of slaughtering. And only now have I seen the real doings of the Nazi people.
