Escapes! (5 page)

Vandy was all ears as Larive told him in hushed tones the story of his capture and questioning by the Gestapo. Now the Dutch at Colditz knew a way across the border, but how could they get out of the castle? That was the puzzle Vandy set his mind to. The outer walls were monstrous and heavily guarded. But prisoners had one opportunity to be outside the walls — even if it was under an armed escort. The key had to be “the walk.”

Exercise was impossible in the castle's cramped courtyard. And so the prisoners were regularly marched to a nearby park surrounded by a high fence. The guards knew this was the weakest point in their security and grumbled about the extra trouble it caused — the manpower needed to take the prisoners back and forth, plus all the roll calls before, during, and after to keep track of the men.

It was also a prime opportunity for the prisoners' favorite pastime — annoying the guards, or “goon-baiting.” When called for the walk they would show up slowly one by one, then drop things and stroll back for them. Vandy knew the Germans were glad that at least the Dutch didn't stoop to these games. They were always orderly and easy to count. That could be useful too, Vandy mused.

As Vandy strolled around the park, he noted the armed sentries along the fence, the barbed wire, the guard dogs. He sighed and looked down. What he saw at his feet made him pause — a cement square set into the ground, covered with a wooden lid. It was shut with a heavy nut and a bolt, and dotted with small air-holes. He quickly looked up and kept walking before the guards could see what had caught his attention. But his mind was racing.

On the next trip to the park, Vandy casually sat down on the wooden lid and pretended to watch the prisoners' rugby game. Never moving his eyes from the players, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the pebble he had tied to a long piece of string. Slowly he fed it through one of the small airholes. How far down would it go? He lowered it further and further. Two feet, three feet, four, five —
plop!
The pebble hit water. So it was an old well! He lowered it further, and it dropped another five feet or so before hitting the bottom of the well. Perfect! Vandy's expression didn't change, but he was so pleased it was hard not to smile.

In the days that followed, the German guards shrugged when they noticed the Bible study club Captain van den Heuvel had started leading during the exercise hour. What was the harm? Sitting quietly in a circle, always on the same spot, the men were easier to track. It also served Vandy's purposes nicely. With the well hidden from view, he set to work measuring the nut and bolt, making plans, barely hearing the voices that droned on around him.

Hans Larive walked aimlessly around the park, too anxious to join in the rugby, too restless to sit down. The waiting was driving him crazy. Nights ago, he had helped prepare two Dutch officers for their escape, drilling them on the route to the Swiss border. He knew the escape plan concerned the well in the park, but he was puzzled. The well was a dead end, so how did they get out? The scheme appeared to have worked, but Vandy had not let him in on the details, not yet. He kicked at the dirt. When would his turn come? On the grass, a shadow lengthened and moved toward him. Looking up, he saw the large form of his escape officer striding toward him, a smile on his broad, ruddy face. Before Vandy spoke the words — “Are you ready?” — Larive's answer was already on his lips, a confident “Yes.”

On a hot August afternoon, Larive took his place in line to march to the park. Ahead of him he could see his friend Flanti Steinmetz, the other Dutchman who would make the break today. Almost every Dutch officer had a role to play. Vandy had gone over each man's part and had stressed the obstacles to be overcome. Somehow Larive and Steinmetz had to get into the well unseen by the guards. Then the guards and their dogs must be kept from closely searching the grounds, even though the Dutch would be two men short at the roll call that ended the exercise hour. And the Germans must stay confused for as long as possible to let the escapers get a head start.

Once at the park, every man took his place. Far from the well, several of the Dutch began a noisy game of rugby. The bored guards turned to watch. Larive and Steinmetz, meanwhile, joined a circle of officers who were lazily throwing a ball to one another across the well cover. At the same time, Lieutenant Gerrit Dames settled down against the fence between two guards and quietly read a book. Another officer strolled aimlessly along the barbed wire. The minutes passed.

Vandy gave the agreed-upon signal. This was it! The circle around the well started closing in. The rugby game got rougher and noisier than ever. The officer near the fence began to pull playfully at the wire like a naughty schoolboy. And Dames, still looking at his book, began to slowly cut a hole in the fence behind his back.

Finally, a guard lost his temper at the Dutchman playing with the wire, and his angry shouts caught the attention of the other guards. Screened from view, one of the officers around the well dropped to the ground. From his pocket he drew the homemade wrench Vandy had built over many nights, sized just right to loosen the nut and bolt on the well cover. Working fast, he removed the bolt and passed it to Larive, who stashed it in his pocket. The shouts of the guards continued in the distance as they led the troublesome officer away from the fence.

In a flash, the lid was lifted and Steinmetz slipped into the darkness below, followed by Larive. Above them, their helper closed the lid and put the finishing touch in place. It was Vandy's small stroke of genius. He smiled as he gently centered the new “bolt” — a carefully painted piece of glass that looked just like the real thing, but would smash easily when the lid was lifted from inside.

By now Dames had finished cutting his hole in the fence. He turned around and, with clumsy slowness, began to creep through. As expected, a guard's whistle pierced the air. Dames shouted toward the woods beyond the fence, “Run, run!” He felt the barrel of a rifle at his back and, slowly drawing his head out of the hole, raised his hands in the air. Seconds ticked by. Dames exhaled heavily — they weren't going to shoot.

A quick count of the prisoners was taken in the park. Two men missing! The German guards combed the park with their dogs, but found no one. They gave the well cover a quick glance, but it was clearly undisturbed with the bolt still in place. Their suspicions were confirmed: the two men must have escaped into the woods before the guards had spotted the third man, Dames. The Dutch were marched back to Colditz, while a widespread search of the woods began.

“Sonderappell!”
Back in Colditz castle, the other prisoners weren't surprised by the shouts announcing a surprise roll call. A common nuisance. But as they streamed into the courtyard they noticed the atmosphere was tenser than usual. Guards were rushing back and forth, commanders talking in small groups. Then whispered rumors began to make their way through the ranks of prisoners. It's the Dutch... someone is missing! The British officers nearest the guards strained to overhear. No, make that two men. Wait a minute, I think it's more... four, five...
seven
missing? Impossible!

The Dutch group was marched in at gunpoint. All faces turned to look at them, but as usual their dignified expressions gave nothing away. The lines of prisoners made way as the Dutch were marched past their usual place in the courtyard. Then the guards ordered the British and French ranks to stand aside. A cheer went up through the prisoners as Vandy and his countrymen were led straight to the bad boys' place nearest the guards. Applause and whistles echoed through the courtyard, but the Dutchmen looked calmly ahead.

In fact, seven men weren't missing, but four were. Vandy had succeeded in tricking the guards. Two men had left through the well days ago, and the Poles had helped Vandy make up the numbers at roll call. Now, while Larive and Steinmetz hid in the well, three more men were hiding in the castle itself to help confuse the guards. Vandy knew the Germans' Operation Mousetrap would spring into action. Rail and police stations in the area would be alerted, and guards would scour towns and roads for miles around the camp, quickly spreading a net to catch the escapers. But they would be looking for seven men, not two. And those two weren't running to a station or town, not yet. They were hanging inside a well under the feet of the guards looking for them.

Vandy wasn't finished with the well, either. He wanted to get two more officers out fast, before the Germans found it, before they'd expect another attempt. He knew he couldn't use the fence trick twice, so the “third man” was out. Vandy stared straight ahead, barely hearing the German officers shouting around him. His mind was already forming a new scheme. His thoughts went back to the fake glass bolt he had painted. And to his friends in the Polish group, particularly one who was a sculptor. And to how appearances can be deceiving, especially when there's something you expect to see.

Larive's arms ached and his back was sore from crouching. For hours he had been hanging from the iron rungs on the side of the well, half of his body underwater.

At first he and Steinmetz had crouched on the rungs, but they realized that if the guards opened the lid they'd be seen immediately. Quietly, they had lowered themselves into the water, then draped a gray blanket they'd brought over their heads. If things went wrong and the guards opened the well, they'd see a gray mass — maybe they'd think it was the dirty water below and move on.

Hanging in the darkness, they listened to the guards' whistles and shouts above their heads and the sound of running feet. Then dogs barking in the distance. A murmur of voices nearby, growing fainter. And finally silence. Hours passed. The lid had closed over their heads at three o'clock, and it wouldn't be safe to come out until nine or ten, when darkness forced the Germans to call off their search for the night.

Time crawled by slowly. Larive's head was splitting and it was getting harder to think straight. He tried to take a deep breath, and his lungs heaved slowly with the effort. He watched Steinmetz's chest move up and down, as if he were panting.

“We are breathing like fish on land,” Larive gasped. And then he realized why — not enough oxygen. They were slowly suffocating!

Steinmetz dragged himself up the rungs toward the lid. Slowly he pushed it open a crack and, careful not to break the glass bolt, propped it up with his pocketknife. He and Larive put their mouths to the opening and drank in the fresh air.

Outside, dusk was turning to darkness. They peered out the narrow opening. No lights, no sounds. It was time. They pushed up the lid, smashing the glass bolt as planned. Steinmetz hopped out and picked up the broken pieces, while Larive fished the real bolt out of his pocket and replaced it on the closed lid.

Quickly scrambling over the fence, they walked and crawled toward the nearest rail station, hoping to catch the first train at dawn. It was a gamble. Police would already be looking for anyone suspicious. They'd have to count on the civilian clothes they had faked and Steinmetz's perfect German to help them pass as tourists.