Great Escapes (18 page)

The aircraft slid along the grass for about 200ft then stopped. Armed soldiers immediately surrounded it. Sliding back the canopy, Carr started to unbuckle his seat belt, but hands grabbed him and started to pull him out. From outside the aircraft came a voice that he recognised, his CO, Colonel Bickel. Bickel strode up to the aircraft with a huge grin on his face and greeted Bruce Carr with the words, ‘Where the hell’uv you been and what kind of landing do you call that?’ The grin was becoming even wider. Captain Bruce Carr was home, after one of the most dramatic escapes of the war.

Taking off from RAF Driffield, Yorkshire, the crew of the Halifax bomber H for Harry were blissfully unaware of what lay before them. The pilot, Flight Lieutenant Angus McLean RCAF, was on his seventh mission over Germany and their target was the Krupp steel works at Essen in the heavily-defended Ruhr Valley. Flying over Holland all appeared peaceful but as they approached the Ruhr Valley the flak started to rise to meet them and was so thick that it gave the appearance of a solid mass. Searchlights swept the air in front of them and then suddenly they were caught in the beams and pinpointed by three of the searchlights. Shrapnel from exploding anti-aircraft shells started to rain around them and perforate the wings and fuselage. Suddenly the aircraft was thrown onto its back and sent into a dive as one large shell exploded close by. Struggling to maintain control Angus McLean brought the aircraft out of the dive and back to its operational height. It was then that he realised that the ailerons had been damaged, jamming the aircraft’s controls in a left-hand turn position. Realising that he could not make the primary target, McLean set a course for the secondary target, all the time trying to clear the jammed ailerons.

Circling over the designated area, McLean’s aircraft was coming under increasing attack from the ground. Then, somehow, he managed to clear the jammed ailerons and he was back in full control of the aircraft. All the time they were being swept deeper and deeper into Germany. With the flak increasing, they remembered that the IO (Intelligence Officer) had told them of the German recognition flare and so they fired the appropriate one. The flak eased measurably and the Halifax continued on its way. Over the secondary target, they dropped their bombs and set a course for home.

Climbing to a new height, the crew settled back as the flak diminished, but were still well aware of the possibility of night fighters jumping them out of the darkness. As they approached Holland, McLean saw a stream of red tracers streaking up towards them. He realised immediately that these were markers and that night fighters had been vectored to intercept them. Alerting the crew, they all waited nervously for the first of the Messerschmitt Me.110s to attack. Seconds later he heard the unmistakable crack of cannon fire as a Me.110 raced into view. Then came the crackle of machine-gun fire from his own gunners and he saw the German fighter suddenly engulfed in flames and hurtled down towards the ground. They had scored a vital hit, but so too had the Germans, as both their port engines suddenly stopped.

Frantically he tried to keep the crippled aircraft in the air, as in the distance he could see the outline of the Zuider Zee. As the aircraft struggled to stay in the air, Angus McLean realised that it was a hopeless cause and when the aircraft descended to 1,200ft he ordered the crew to bale out. One by one the crew left the aircraft until only McLean was left and setting the controls to level flight he scrambled for the escape hatch and dropped out.

No sooner had he left the aircraft than he pulled the ripcord of his parachute. Seconds later the parachute deployed fully and Angus McLean hit the ground on his back. He lay there stunned for a few minutes unable to feel anything. His first thoughts were that he had broken his back, but then the feeling started to return to his legs then his back. His elbow was bleeding badly and almost all the skin had been stripped from his upper left arm. One of his flying boots had been ripped from his foot during the descent and the wet grass was starting to soak through his clothes.

Looking around him, he saw that he had landed in a field. In the next field the remains of his Halifax bomber was burning furiously and oxygen bottles and ammunition was exploding all over the place, scattering the cows that moments earlier been grazing quietly in the field.

Realising that the countryside would soon be swarming with German soldiers, Mclean struggled to his feet, collected up his parachute and hid it in a drainage culvert as best he could. Then he looked around to see if he could find his other boot, but to no avail. He crossed over the culvert and started walking around the edge of the field. Dawn was starting to break when he saw a sign on the side of the road, it wasn’t in German or French, so he assumed he must be in Holland.

He continued walking, but by now his back was extremely painful to the extent that he could barely walk and his other injuries were causing him concern. He then decided to look around for a place to hide and consider his position. Looking behind him he saw in horror that where he had been walking across the field he had left a track in the dew-laden grass. Seeing a small herd of cows close by, he herded them over the area where he had been, and then moved them along in front of him.

He crawled into a thick hedgerow and pulled out his escape kit. Inside was a compass, monies of different nationalities, glucose tablets and a collapsible rubber bottle. Taking the bottle he moved slowly over to one of the cows and milked it. Settling back into the thick hedgerow he drank the warm milk and then fell asleep. He was awakened by the sound of voices and for a moment he lay in the hedgerow totally confused, but then the pain in his back and arms brought him quickly back to reality. The voices grew louder and they were in German. Peering through the hedge he could see two young girls picking blackberries. As they got closer, he decided to show himself and stood up.

Stepping forward he pointed to his uniform and said, ‘RAF – Englander’. The younger of the two girls suddenly turned and ran. Angus McLean looked around desperately for somewhere to run to, but then the other girl touched the Masonic ring on his finger and gabbled something in German. McLean heard the words ‘Free Mason’, then she pointed to a house in the distance. From the house he saw the younger girl approaching, with her a much older man.

With promises of help, the old man took him through the village where he was visible to all and sundry. McLean’s feet by now were blistered and very painful and after indicating this to them, he was led into an orchard to rest. With promises of food and clothing the villagers left him to spend the night there. Throughout the restless night he waited but no help was forthcoming. In the morning two labourers from the village came to cut the grass and shared their meagre ration of coffee and rye bread with him.

Throughout the rest of the day he waited, but by evening he realised that no one was coming. He felt both let down and angry, but then realised the position the villagers must have felt they were in, in helping an allied airman. The penalty for this was well known – death.

Using his silk escape map, which he had shown to the villagers, he had a good idea where he was. He was on an island in Holland between the towns of Zaltbommel and ‘s-Hertogenbosch. The problem was that if the Germans found out that he was in the vicinity it would be simple for them to seal off the island. Moving cautiously in the fields, he headed for the river Meuse and hoped that the bridges were not manned by German control posts. If he could get off the island he would head for the port of Rotterdam with the intention of smuggling himself aboard one of the neutral ships.

After covering around 6 miles, he was moving down a small path when a tall gaunt man suddenly confronted him. The man looked at McLean and the RCAF uniform and shook his head. Gesturing him to sit down just inside the field, he left. Too tired and exhausted to think straight, McLean resigned himself to whatever fate awaited him. Then after about half an hour the man returned, this time with an elderly woman. He was carrying a bundle of old clothes that had seen better days and his wife handed McLean a large bowl of warm milk and a thick wedge of rye bread.

After gulping down the food, McLean gratefully took off his uniform and slipped into the tired-looking suit, a worn shirt, an old hat and a shiny pair of boots – the latter were obviously the man’s Sunday best. The old couple took his uniform and explained by means of sign language that they would burn it; they then indicated that he should leave. Holding back tears of gratitude, McLean shook hands with the couple and set off.

As he approached a village, he could see in the distance the heavy ironwork of a bridge. As he approached the bridge he could see that there was in fact a pontoon across the river, but no German guards. His attention was suddenly drawn to the sound of a lorry coming down the road. Stepping behind a hedge he watched as two German motorcycles and a lorry with German soldiers in the back came hurtling down the road. They screamed to a halt in the village and an officer got out of the lorry and spoke to a woman. Then they turned around and went back the way they had come. McLean wondered if they were looking for him. Moving toward the bridge, he joined a large number of people making their way across. It was only as he approached the bridge that he spotted a German soldier on the other side examining everybody’s papers.

Then came the sound of a barge whistle, and round the bend in the river came a long line of barges. The barriers went down to the pedestrians and the swing bridge moved to allow the barges to go through. This of course caused a build-up of pedestrians on McLean’s side of the river. Looking round he saw a young woman carrying a parcel and with a baby in a pram. Moving alongside her, he smiled first at the mother, then at the baby. Just then the bridge swung back and the barrier was raised. Grasping the handle of the pram, he again smiled at the young mother and started to push the pram across the bridge.

He watched carefully as the German guard started to examine only some of the papers, as there was a large number of people coming towards him. Keeping his head down, McLean walked at a steady pace past the guard and onto the road the other side. About half a mile further on, McLean spotted a side road, and touching his hat to the young woman, he bid her farewell with a smile. He never knew if she suspected him of being someone who was trying to escape from the Germans or not.

Finding himself at the river’s edge, he decided to follow the river bank as far as he could, hoping that it would lead him to Rotterdam. The sun had slipped below the horizon when he came across a houseboat moored alongside the bank. In great pain, tired and hungry he decided to approach the boat and seek help. Approaching the boat he could see a woman scrubbing at some clothes in a washtub on the deck.

The woman looked up and saw him standing by the gangplank. McLean gestured to himself and said,
‘Englander – konnen Sie mir hilfen bitter
[Are you able to help me please]’. The woman looked around, then grasped his wrist and without saying a word led him onto the boat and down into the living area. In the living room were her husband and their four children, three girls aged eleven, eighteen and twenty-one and a boy aged fifteen – the Pagie family. The eldest girl, Jane, spoke some English and was able to translate. The father questioned the exhausted Angus McLean until he was satisfied that he was who he said he was. The Gestapo often used Germans who could speak English fluently to trap people in the occupied countries who helped escapees and evaders.

The father placed his home at the disposal of Angus McLean once he was sure of him. The mother treated his wounds and for the first time in days he was able to have a bath and make himself presentable.

For the next four weeks he hid on the houseboat slowly recovering from his injuries and by the end of this time he had almost recovered to his normal self. During this period the family had shared their meagre rations with him, without complaint. It has to be remembered that every minute of every day, the family risked their lives in helping Angus McLean, something he never ever forgot.

Word came through that the Germans were aware that there was an allied airman on the run in the area, and McLean could often see parties of soldiers scouring the riverbank. There was even a reward of 500 guilders for his capture, but nothing would have tempted the Pagie family.

Sundays were not the best of days for Angus McLean, for this was the day that relatives and friends came to visit. Because the houseboat was not all that big, a locked door would be of some concern to them, so he had to spend the day in a small closet with nothing to do but wait until they had all gone.

One morning McLean woke in alarm to the sound of German voices. Peering through the curtained window he could see some German officers on the opposite bank studying a map. As he looked along the bank of the river, he could see German soldiers lying down in the grass with machine guns and rifles pointed across the river. Then he heard the loud explosive chatter of machine guns and he instinctively threw himself to the ground, expecting to see bullet holes puncturing the sides of the houseboat at any moment. His first thoughts were than he had been discovered, but when no bullets seemed to hit the houseboat and the firing continued, he looked out again and realised that he was witnessing a mock battle. He discovered later that a German infantry school was close by and these were trainees on exercise.

Angus McLean was now becoming restless, his injuries had healed and he felt that sooner or later he was going to be discovered. If that happened then that would have meant a death sentence for the whole Pagie family. Albert Pagie, the father, had made several trips to Amsterdam to try and make contact with the Dutch Resistance, but to no avail. It was Jane Pagie who came up with the answer. She worked in a clothing factory and had confided in a former Dutch army officer. He visited the houseboat and told McLean that he knew of no Resistance organisation in Holland, but he knew of one in Belgium. If McLean could get into Belgium he would stand a good chance of escaping. The officer arranged for a guide, a priest, Father Kluge, who was leaving Zaltbommel for Weert. Because a number of people had been caught helping allied airmen by Gestapo agents who pretending to be fallen flyers, the priest wanted proof. McLean gave the officer one of his RCAF dog tags that he wore around his neck.