Editor's Note: On the night of March 24-25, 1944, 76 Allied prisoners ofStalag Luft III, a German prison camp in Sagan, 100 miles southeast of Berlin,escaped through a tunnel named "Harry." Within days most were recaptured. Anoutraged Hitler had 50 of them shot, an appalling abrogation of the GenevaConvention, to which Germany was a signatory. Twenty-three were reincarcerated.Only three made it all the way to freedom—a Dutchman and two Norwegians,all flyers with the British Royal Air Force. Here's their remarkable story,which begins at the Sagan railway station. For locations of relevant towns,consult our map.
Alone to Breslau
Alone to Breslau
Flight Lieutenant Bram van der Stok had managed to get out of Holland when theNazis invaded, and had flown with the RAF during those first months of the war.Because of his zeal for escaping, his intelligence, his familiarity with thecountryside, and his gift for languages, the Escape Committee [formed by prisoners at Stalag Luft III] had rated his chances of making a home run very highly, and he was among thefirst 20 through the tunnel.
He was traveling alone.
Cautiously he made his way through the woods, and almost bumped into a darkfigure. It was a German civilian who said sharply, "What are you doing in thesewoods at this time of night?"
Bram van der Stok had rehearsed his reply to that question.
"I'm a Dutch worker. I'm afraid the police might arrest me for beingout-of-doors during an air raid. Do you speak Dutch? I'm a bit scared."
The German did not speak Dutch, but Bram van der Stok's cover was perfect; thecivilian took him under his wing. "I know the way to the station. You stickwith me and you'll be all right."
At the station he left Bram to his own devices, and the first thing Bramdiscovered was that the heavy raid on Berlin had delayed his train by threehours. Bram wished someone could have told the chief of Bomber Command whattrouble he was causing his fellow air force men.
He then observed one of the German censors at the camp. He knew her slightly bysight; he hoped to God she didn't know him. But she was suspicious ofone of the men on the platform, whom Bram recognized as Thomas Kirby-Green [aBritish pilot who was later recaptured at Hodonin in Czechoslovakia and shot on March29]. If the police picked him up they would be alerted at once. He hardly daredlook around—the station was full of Stalag Luft III escapers.
He saw eight fellow escapers from Sagan, but not even by the flutterof an eyebrow did he offer a sign of recognition.
And—oh, hell—she was telling an officer of the German militarypolice to go accost Kirby-Green, and demand to see his papers. Then he becameconscious that the bright female eyes were fixed on him. Bram van der Stokmoved closer, not farther away. The only way to counter suspicion was to faceit. One thing the Escape Committee had not taken into consideration was afemale Sherlock Holmes sitting in the Sagan station. Her question was abrupt.
"You are traveling tonight?"
At least he was comfortable with his German. "Yes, I'm Dutch—you canprobably tell from my accent."
"You know the trains are running late?"
"Yes, I understand that is so." Bram gave a quick glance at Kirby-Green. He wasputting his papers away. The military policeman was satisfied. Thank God forthat.
"There are many strangers around these days," said Bram equably. That seemed tosatisfy her. She had done her duty as a good German woman.
The train for Breslau arrived at 3:30 a.m. Bram van der Stok traveledsecond-class. He saw eight fellow escapers from Sagan, among them Roger Bushelland Bernard Scheidhauer, but not even by the flutter of an eyebrow did he offera sign of recognition. They chugged into Breslau station at 5:00 a.m. There wasno bustle of security, no groups of Gestapo or military police with hardwatchful eyes. The tunnel hadn't been discovered ... yet! [To becontinued...]
Safely to Stettin
Sergeant Peter Bergsland was Norwegian. When the Germans invaded his country hefled to England. There he joined the RAF, was shot down, and duly arrived atStalag Luft III.
Sergeant Bergsland and his partner, fellow countryman Lieutenant JensMüller, also with the RAF, decided to team up for the Sagan escape. Theyheaded for Stettin, where Swedish ships regularly docked and departed. Bothspoke perfect Swedish.
They came out of the tunnel as Numbers 43 and 44, and Müller was surprisedat the ease of passage through Harry. His report to Intelligence explained whathad happened:
"It took me three minutes to get through the tunnel. Above ground I crawledalong holding the rope for several feet: it was tied to a tree. SergeantBergsland joined me; we arranged our clothes and walked to the Sagan railwaystation.
"Bergsland was wearing a civilian suit he had made for himself from a RoyalMarine uniform, with an RAF overcoat slightly altered with brown leather sewnover the buttons. A black RAF tie, no hat. He carried a small suitcase whichhad been sent from Norway. In it were Norwegian toothpaste and soap,sandwiches, and 163 reichsmarks given to him by the Escape Committee.
"We caught the 2:04 train to Frankfurt an der Oder. Our papers stated that wewere Norwegian electricians from the Arbeitslager [labor camp] inFrankfurt working in the vicinity of Sagan. For the journey from Frankfurt toStettin we had other papers ordering us to change our place of work fromFrankfurt to Stettin, and to report to the Bürgermeister of Stettin."
They were now inside the docks, and they had to get out.
The journey was uneventful. They traveled in a third-class carriage full ofcivilians and looked like any ordinary travelers. They arrived at Frankfurt at6:00 in the morning, and caught a connecting train to Küstrin at 8:00 a.m.They had a beer in the station cafe, and while they were sipping, the firstinspection took place. A wandering German Feldwebel [sergeant] of themilitary police approached them. He looked at the cheerful, fresh-faced youngmen who spoke excellent German with a Norwegian accent, gave their papers acursory examination, touched his cap, and departed. Bergsland and Müllerclinked mugs, smiled, and drank up.
They caught the 10:00 a.m. train from Küstrin to Stettin and arrived atlunchtime.
To Sweden through a brothel
"We walked around the town, visited a cinema and a beer hall, and after duskwent to an address given to us by the Escape Committee.
"It was a French brothel bearing the inscription 'Nur furAusländers—Deutschen verboten' ['Only forforeigners—Germans forbidden']. We knocked on the door. As we did so aPole who was standing on the street approached us and asked us if we had anyblack-market wares for sale. We asked him if he knew any Swedish sailors. Hefetched one out of the brothel. We made our identity known, talking in Swedish,and he told us that his ship was leaving that night and to meet us at 20:00hours outside the brothel."
The Swede was as good as his word, and was waiting for them when they returned.He led them to the docks, and told them to duck under a chain while he reportedto the Control Office. He would then go aboard, wait for an all clear, and thenwhistle them to come aboard.
They waited in vain. No signal was given. Seamen cast off the ropes and theywatched the ship set sail down the channel. They could hazard a guess that heprobably tried to enlist help to get them aboard, and was probably told by hisfriends that one was likely to end up in a Nazi concentration camp if caught.They were now inside the docks, and they had to get out. The best meeting placein town was obviously the brothel, if they could get through. They decided totake a chance; the officer at Control hardly bothered to glance at theirpapers. But disappointingly the brothel was a no-nonsense establishment, andclosed its doors at 2:00 a.m.
The area itself, however, was certainly populated by seamen; and they lookedlike seamen. Small cafes were open; small, sordid hotels did business. They hada meal and paid for a room in one of the hotels. They had taken part in one ofthe most momentous escapes in history; they'd taken their chances and gottenaway with it. They were already asleep as their heads fell towards the pillows,and did not wake until four o'clock the following afternoon. Müller lookedacross at Bergsland and grinned. "Another visit to 17 Klein Oder Strasse, Ithink."
They arrived at the brothel at six, and met two more Swedish sailors coming outthrough the door. They were affable when the two Norwegians explained theirdifficulties.
"Ja," they said. "You come, catch the tram with us and we go back to ourdocks. Four miles out near Parnitz." By that time it was 8:30 and getting dark.The Swedish sailors slouched up to the German soldier on guard, showing theirpapers, the two Norwegians close behind. The guard was helpful. "All part ofthe same crew?" he inquired, and they nodded vigorously. He stood aside to letthem pass, not even asking them for papers.
Safely on deck, the Swedes slapped them on the back, and said, "Not bad, eh?Now we've got to hide you because the ship doesn't sail until seven tomorrowmorning, and there's bound to be a German search before we sail."
When they reached Sweden they shook hands and gave a whoop for joy.Two out of 76 had reached freedom.
Their hiding place was the anchor locker holding the great coiled chain. In onecorner was a pile of netting and sacks. The sailors heaved it aside and formeda sort of inner nest. "Now you can sleep. But don't be snoring when the Germansarrive tomorrow morning. Usually they don't have dogs. Dogs don't like climbingup and down thin steel companion ladders."
Hours later Bergsland and Müller heard the Germans tramping towards them;the hatch was thrown open and closed again; the search was perfunctory. Thefeet stamped away. Half an hour later the propellers began to thrash water andthey felt the ship begin to move. Their two friends came down with food anddrink, and the smell of sea coming in through the hawseholes in the bow waslike an elixir of freedom. When they reached Sweden they shook hands and gave awhoop for joy, for it was a small victory for them. Then they went to find theBritish consulate. Two out of 76 had reached freedom.
All the way to Gibraltar
Bram van der Stok sat on a bench in the Breslau railway station and pretendedto doze. He believed that "he travels fastest who travels alone." He waswearing civilian clothes—at least they looked like that, although theywere in fact an Australian air force overcoat and a converted naval jacket andtrousers, RAF shoes, and a beret.
He bought a second-class ticket to Alkmaar, boarded the train, and at 10:00a.m. arrived in Dresden, where he had a long layover. He dozed in two cinemasuntil 8:00 p.m., then went back to the station to catch a train to the Dutchborder at Bentheim. He realized that the tunnel had been discovered, and thehunt was on, because his papers were carefully scrutinized on four occasions.At the frontier post his papers were examined again, but now it was easier. HisDutch was, naturally, perfect, and his papers were in order.
He traveled by train to Oldenzaal, then on to Utrecht. Here the EscapeCommittee had given him the address of an underground resistance worker. Theman welcomed him, gave him fake identity papers and ration cards, and kept himsafe in his home for three days. But there was no victory yet. Holland was partof Germany's conquered Europe; informers and spies were everywhere. Bram vander Stok still had to move fast.
He traveled by bicycle to another safe house in Belgium, where he was givenBelgian identity papers, then on by train through Brussels and Paris. Morefalse papers and south again to Toulouse, and now he was installed in theMaquis resistance chain [the French resistance]. He met up with two Americanlieutenants, two RAF pilots, a French officer, a Russian, and a French girl whoacted as a guide. Together they crossed the Pyrenees and arrived inLérida. The Spanish were neutral, but not necessarily friendly. TheBritish consul took them over in Lérida, and Bram van der Stok arrivedin Gibraltar on July 8.
His escape journey had taken almost three and a half months. He was back inEngland within a few days, the third to make a home run. 
