The early internees
January-March 1943
January-March 1943
Apart from 1/Lt. David K. Westheimer, whose full testimony is in his book 'Sitting it Out', Sgt. Theodore Drazkowski, Russell J. Gardinier and Frank B. Hawkins have written about their experiences. ( The last two escaped together from PG 21 Chieti.) Major Perry D. Pickett, who was in the same crew as Frank B. Hawkins, does not mention his time in Poggio Mirteto but gives a full account of his experiences in his Escape and Evasion report, part of which is recorded in the book 'The Long Trail Home: Allied Prisoners of War in Umbria' Janet Kinrade Dethick, Lulu.com. Major Pickett spent some time with the patriot band led by Captain Ernesto Melis in the Norcia area of Umbria, as did Armando Risso, Natchez to Mobile, who is referred to by both Westheimer and Gardinier, who being hospitalised due to his serious injuries, did not pass through Poggio Mirteto. Flight Sergeant J. 'Jimmy' W. T. Duffield, 103 Squadron, Royal Air Force, was held in Poggio Mirteto from 20 February until 78 March and mentions the interrogation centre in his Escape and Evasion Report.
Sgt. Theodore Drazkowski 376 BG
(His full account can be read on http://www.armyaircorps-376bg.com/drazkowski_ted)
(His full account can be read on http://www.armyaircorps-376bg.com/drazkowski_ted)
As for our 1/11/43 mission over Naples - I would like to begin with the absolute silence over the inter-com during and prior to our bomb run. Either the system was B.D. or it was shot out. Upon seeing Enemy Aircraft coming up to greet us I attempted to fire my twin 50's to warm them up. They wouldn't fire so I spent the rest of the time trying to operate them manually. They were jammed and I assumed full of sand.
I looked out of my plexi-glass window and on my left at about 5 o'clock sat this Jerry ME109 just keeping pace with us. I swung my guns on him. and he must have spotted this movement because he banked to his left and went underneath us. I had attempted to fire but to no avail. Then all hell broke loose. A 20mm hit my plexi-glass window (3 3/4" thick) dead center and it was smashed. I could not see any more. That shell sure had my name on it.
Soon there was pounding on my turret door - I opened it and Bob Krager motioned for me to come out which I did. The plane was staggering badly by now and it was difficult to stand up or walk. Bob kept pointing to the bomb bay so I opened it up and a huge mass of flames shot out singeing Bob and I. I slammed the door shut and pointed to the rear escape hatch. I checked my chute straps - opened the door and bailed out. Bob followed. On the way down the jerry pilot flew by me and for what I could make out, saluted me. I saluted back.
On landing in a mountainous region I instantly was surrounded by soldiers, police and peasants with guns, pitch forks and clubs jabbering away in Italian which of course I couldn't understand. I was taken to a small town and thrown into a single cell jail. That night they brought Bob Krager in... The next morning they brought in a body for us to see and verify - it was Lt. Angel. The back of his head was all bashed in, from what, I can't say...
Tthe two airmen were sent to Poggio Mirteto. ( See The Camp page of this website.) After Poggio Mirteto S/Sgt. Drazkowski had been sent to PG 59 Servigliano)
We were in the prison camp eleven months. We got out when Italy capitulated. One morning when we woke up and by the front gate there was shooting going on - machine gun fire, rifles and a guard up on a wall hollered "Tedesco viene" that means the “Germans are coming” they were coming to take us to Germany to transfer us. We went out the back way. I would very much like to find out how many guys made it back to the front lines. There must have been a thousand guys in the camp - I think there were 8 huge barracks.
The first two days after we escaped we headed for the mountains - it was inland - I could remember that from school. The mountain range runs down the center of Italy and we traveled, by night those first two days, - I told Bob we can't travel by night - we're going to bump into an outpost or something and get picked up and taken to Germany. So we started traveling by day-for 46 days.
I'm of Polish descent and I could speak Polish but that didn't help. But I did learn an awful lot of Italian in camp and we got by. I'm naturally dark complexioned and I wasn't questioned ever. I had occasion to use the Italian language too, I had to.
There was a Jerry patrol we bumped into one day. I bluffed my way out of that. We were in a vineyard eating grapes and I told Bob there's a bunch of Jerries coming on patrol or something - just hang low here and let me go talk to them. Bob couldn't speak Italian or any foreign language. I had it all set in my mind this guy is German and doesn't speak any better Italian than I do. He said to me "Buon Giorno" and I said "Buon Giorno", he asked "Corporal Distante - he didn’t use the word distant something which I surmised he meant and he named a village or town and I said "Poco distante qui". He said "Grazie" and I said "Prego" and he left and I left, but I left faster than he did cause it was down hill. We found our way to Campobasso – that’s about directly across from Naples but on the opposite shore. That was the Canadian front line – that’s where we came across - the Americans were on the other side of the mountain (the Naples side).
I looked out of my plexi-glass window and on my left at about 5 o'clock sat this Jerry ME109 just keeping pace with us. I swung my guns on him. and he must have spotted this movement because he banked to his left and went underneath us. I had attempted to fire but to no avail. Then all hell broke loose. A 20mm hit my plexi-glass window (3 3/4" thick) dead center and it was smashed. I could not see any more. That shell sure had my name on it.
Soon there was pounding on my turret door - I opened it and Bob Krager motioned for me to come out which I did. The plane was staggering badly by now and it was difficult to stand up or walk. Bob kept pointing to the bomb bay so I opened it up and a huge mass of flames shot out singeing Bob and I. I slammed the door shut and pointed to the rear escape hatch. I checked my chute straps - opened the door and bailed out. Bob followed. On the way down the jerry pilot flew by me and for what I could make out, saluted me. I saluted back.
On landing in a mountainous region I instantly was surrounded by soldiers, police and peasants with guns, pitch forks and clubs jabbering away in Italian which of course I couldn't understand. I was taken to a small town and thrown into a single cell jail. That night they brought Bob Krager in... The next morning they brought in a body for us to see and verify - it was Lt. Angel. The back of his head was all bashed in, from what, I can't say...
Tthe two airmen were sent to Poggio Mirteto. ( See The Camp page of this website.) After Poggio Mirteto S/Sgt. Drazkowski had been sent to PG 59 Servigliano)
We were in the prison camp eleven months. We got out when Italy capitulated. One morning when we woke up and by the front gate there was shooting going on - machine gun fire, rifles and a guard up on a wall hollered "Tedesco viene" that means the “Germans are coming” they were coming to take us to Germany to transfer us. We went out the back way. I would very much like to find out how many guys made it back to the front lines. There must have been a thousand guys in the camp - I think there were 8 huge barracks.
The first two days after we escaped we headed for the mountains - it was inland - I could remember that from school. The mountain range runs down the center of Italy and we traveled, by night those first two days, - I told Bob we can't travel by night - we're going to bump into an outpost or something and get picked up and taken to Germany. So we started traveling by day-for 46 days.
I'm of Polish descent and I could speak Polish but that didn't help. But I did learn an awful lot of Italian in camp and we got by. I'm naturally dark complexioned and I wasn't questioned ever. I had occasion to use the Italian language too, I had to.
There was a Jerry patrol we bumped into one day. I bluffed my way out of that. We were in a vineyard eating grapes and I told Bob there's a bunch of Jerries coming on patrol or something - just hang low here and let me go talk to them. Bob couldn't speak Italian or any foreign language. I had it all set in my mind this guy is German and doesn't speak any better Italian than I do. He said to me "Buon Giorno" and I said "Buon Giorno", he asked "Corporal Distante - he didn’t use the word distant something which I surmised he meant and he named a village or town and I said "Poco distante qui". He said "Grazie" and I said "Prego" and he left and I left, but I left faster than he did cause it was down hill. We found our way to Campobasso – that’s about directly across from Naples but on the opposite shore. That was the Canadian front line – that’s where we came across - the Americans were on the other side of the mountain (the Naples side).
Captain Perry D. Pickett
Aircraft B-25 41-13102 'Green Eyes'
Shot down in the Mediterranean 23 February 1943
(On his return to the United States Captain Pickett gave a written statement to be used in a War Crimes trial. His testimony is held in the National Archives London in File WO 310/22.)
Aircraft B-25 41-13102 'Green Eyes'
Shot down in the Mediterranean 23 February 1943
(On his return to the United States Captain Pickett gave a written statement to be used in a War Crimes trial. His testimony is held in the National Archives London in File WO 310/22.)
I crashed into the Mediterranean on or about 23 February 1943 and was picked up on the 24th by three Italian naval aircraft patrol boats and taken to Cagliari, Sardinia. I was held there approximately three days under medical care and was then taken by rail to a port in North Sardinia to Olbia and was lodged there that night. I was then taken next night by boat to the port of Ostia and put on a train for Poggio Mirteto Italy and was there from on or about 2 March to the 17 March 1943. I was then taken by rail to an Italian concentration camp PG 21 at Chieti, Italy and was there from on or about 17 March to on or about 25 September 1943, on which date I was taken to Sulmona, Italy. I was detained here while waiting for a train shipment to Germany and stayed here for about one week. On or about 2 October we entrained on cattle cars for Germany. I escaped off the train at Capodoccia with approximately seven other American officers and went up into the mountains where I hid with one British and one American officer; on or about 28 October 1943 I started towards the American Lines which at this time were on or around the Volturno river.
Major Pickett was recaptured and sent to PG 77 Pissignano, from where he escaped and went up into the Umbrian mountains where he joined the band of partisans operating under Captain Ernesto Melis, remaining with them until 6 British Armoured Division arrived in Umbria in June 1944. Sgt. Armando P. Risso, from Lawrence Kennedy's crew (Natchez to Memphis), was with the same band for a while.
Major Pickett was recaptured and sent to PG 77 Pissignano, from where he escaped and went up into the Umbrian mountains where he joined the band of partisans operating under Captain Ernesto Melis, remaining with them until 6 British Armoured Division arrived in Umbria in June 1944. Sgt. Armando P. Risso, from Lawrence Kennedy's crew (Natchez to Memphis), was with the same band for a while.
2/Lt. Frank B. Hawkins
Soon after returning home Lt. Hawkins wrote down his story for his son. Part of it is reproduced here:
The day was the 23rd Feb 1943, and I was on combat duty with the 310 Bombardment Group (Med.) which was composed of B-25 bombers. On the afternoon of the 23rrd Feb I was scheduled just before 'take-off' time to go on a 'sea sweep' mission. That meant to out on the Med. Sea, flying at 200ft or so and hunt for enemy convoys. I had been on this type of mission before and being me had always had good luck so I didn't prepare for what was coming. In fact I had my P.J.s (pyjamas) under my light flying overalls as that was all the clothing necessary at that time of the year in North Africa where the days are hot and the nights cold at that time of the year.
The Med. Sea was beautiful as we flew along the top of the waves. After a couple of hours searching we were starting our return portion of the search when we located a convoy. It looked more like a fleet than anything. My squadron commanding officer was riding along as an 'observer' and being such (plus his grade of Major A.C. ) he gave the order to go around the target and come in from the sun. (This puts the planes between the ships and the sun which supposedly causes the ships' gunners to have considerable trouble spotting and shooting the attacking aircraft.) Anyhow, everything went well except the sun went behind the clouds! So, the enemy really had us in the guns' sights when we started in at the tremendous altitude of 100 feet! Enemy fighters overhead were being engaged by our P38 escorts. 'Flak boats' started unloading everything 'but the kitchen sink' at us. I was leading the 1st element (consists of B-25s) and did not notice the 2nd element turn 'yellow' - and go completely around the twenty-two ship convoy; why I still don't know, but I do know that they didn't even drop one 'egg' (bomb).
I thought (we) would never get over the target and away. The B-25 on the right had the left engine on fire before we even reached the convoy. Tracers streaked their yellow trails over our nose, so close that you could almost hear them. Right over the target bombs had been dumped and we were trying to get away from this 'death area' when the B-25 on the left caught flak in the cockpit and quickly crashed into the sea. About this time my gunner S/Sgt. Schave called on the inter-phone (radio communication within an aircraft) saying 'left engine on fire'. But I couldn't see any flames so told him that I had seen the B-25 on our right wing with such. Again the gunner repeated his message – and I did see it!. It was really a ball of fire, that left wing of 'Green Eyes'. There wasn't much to do but ditch (crash land an aircraft in water) so the radio call was given, the aircraft slowed down from 250 mph to 150 mph. As 'Green Eyes' settled to and into the Med. Sea, it was like driving an auto into a brick wall at the same speed of 150 mph. The impact was indescribable. (As) soon as the speed of the aircraft became nil the aircraft sank and then return(ed) the water's surface to float for a short period. Everyone got out in ... flat. I went over the side, into the water and I believe I went under the water about two times before I caught hold of the aircraft.
I couldn't remove my chute. My legs were numb. But finally my navigator dragged me out and we were all amazed to see that I still had my legs. All of us loaded into the rubber life rafts and as we paddled away from the aircraft 'she' slowly sank. (She was a lady to the last.)
There we were near Sicily (German held) and 57 miles from North Africa ( or 77 miles from the Allied portion of North Africa) – Being that it was so late in the afternoon, no one found us. Besides, we had given the Germans enough to do as my bombardier sank a ship – a nice big one with plenty of personnel and equipment on board). That night was a cold one. Our clothes were wet – and the air cold. But we took turns at the oars to gain headway towards freedom and body warmth besides. When morning came, with its breezes, I made a bucket sail out of my dear old red and black P.J.s. The we really made the miles to freedom shorter.
It was about 1630 on the 24th Feb when some Italian bi-motor sea planes spotted us. Soon all three of them landed in the water near us and we became POWs Italian style. They flew us to Sardinia where we were turned over to the Germans. But each of us claimed loss of memory, shock, stupidity etc. - therefore the Germans finally ceased to ask us questions about the Allies, Allied aircraft, our unit, etc. Then we were turned over to the Italian government again for safe-keeping as POWs.
Being a POW is the same thing as being a monkey in a zoo. People come to see you and from the other side of the bars they curse you, spit on you and etc. but there wasn't a thing that we could do, after all we had personal guards and they carried firearms, not us.
Escape was impossible as we were too well guarded, spoke no Italian or German. About the last day or so of Feb. 1942 we were transferred to Rome, Italy. Personally, I was glad to leave because t was a chance to escape(when in Rome) and secure freedom in the Vatican -city. Also the B-26 bombers were getting too good on bombing this military target on Sardinia. One bomb landed so close one day before I left that it blew our window out. That made the evenings colder than ever. It was lucky for us that the old model 1875 train was on time because the B-26s made direct hits on that railroad station.
As for my travels through Sardinia, it was very boring. Of course we weren't crowded on the train as the civilians were afraid of us '(the American Bandits' as they nick-named us). At each stop, our guards would look so proud and important as they displayed us to the people at the railroad station.
About 3/4 of the trip to the north east tip of Sardinia was over when we were transferred to a cattle car. It was filthy so we stood up the rest of the way. When the doors of the box car were opened we found ourselves in another Italian and German military post. After a couple of sad days consisting of bed bugs, lice, rotten food and humiliation we were taken to a port (I've forgotten its name) and boarded the luxury liner 'Rex' for a sneaking voyage through the fog and darkness of the night to Rome. We didn't get enough to eat, but the bunks were grand - so clean, soft and comfortable. In the morning we were escorted off the boat to a naval military post where we were treated like humans. We ate one meal there and again we were put on a train in one of those funny foreign compartments as they gave on all trains in Europe. Our guards were frightened every time we went through a tunnel as it would get pitch black and we would make odd noises. But they remedied this by installing a scarce item known as a light bulb. In a few hours we arrived in Rome...
The railway station was jammed with troops – fresh recruits heading for Africa, I suppose, and others had been to Africa and were returning. With missing limbs, wound and such. Escape from here would have been foolish as we were still in American uniforms
Lt. Hawkins goes on to describe his stay in Poggio Mirteto, his arrival at PG 21 Chieti, his time there and his escape with 1/Lt. Russell J. Gardinier, bombardier from Natchez to Memphis.
The day was the 23rd Feb 1943, and I was on combat duty with the 310 Bombardment Group (Med.) which was composed of B-25 bombers. On the afternoon of the 23rrd Feb I was scheduled just before 'take-off' time to go on a 'sea sweep' mission. That meant to out on the Med. Sea, flying at 200ft or so and hunt for enemy convoys. I had been on this type of mission before and being me had always had good luck so I didn't prepare for what was coming. In fact I had my P.J.s (pyjamas) under my light flying overalls as that was all the clothing necessary at that time of the year in North Africa where the days are hot and the nights cold at that time of the year.
The Med. Sea was beautiful as we flew along the top of the waves. After a couple of hours searching we were starting our return portion of the search when we located a convoy. It looked more like a fleet than anything. My squadron commanding officer was riding along as an 'observer' and being such (plus his grade of Major A.C. ) he gave the order to go around the target and come in from the sun. (This puts the planes between the ships and the sun which supposedly causes the ships' gunners to have considerable trouble spotting and shooting the attacking aircraft.) Anyhow, everything went well except the sun went behind the clouds! So, the enemy really had us in the guns' sights when we started in at the tremendous altitude of 100 feet! Enemy fighters overhead were being engaged by our P38 escorts. 'Flak boats' started unloading everything 'but the kitchen sink' at us. I was leading the 1st element (consists of B-25s) and did not notice the 2nd element turn 'yellow' - and go completely around the twenty-two ship convoy; why I still don't know, but I do know that they didn't even drop one 'egg' (bomb).
I thought (we) would never get over the target and away. The B-25 on the right had the left engine on fire before we even reached the convoy. Tracers streaked their yellow trails over our nose, so close that you could almost hear them. Right over the target bombs had been dumped and we were trying to get away from this 'death area' when the B-25 on the left caught flak in the cockpit and quickly crashed into the sea. About this time my gunner S/Sgt. Schave called on the inter-phone (radio communication within an aircraft) saying 'left engine on fire'. But I couldn't see any flames so told him that I had seen the B-25 on our right wing with such. Again the gunner repeated his message – and I did see it!. It was really a ball of fire, that left wing of 'Green Eyes'. There wasn't much to do but ditch (crash land an aircraft in water) so the radio call was given, the aircraft slowed down from 250 mph to 150 mph. As 'Green Eyes' settled to and into the Med. Sea, it was like driving an auto into a brick wall at the same speed of 150 mph. The impact was indescribable. (As) soon as the speed of the aircraft became nil the aircraft sank and then return(ed) the water's surface to float for a short period. Everyone got out in ... flat. I went over the side, into the water and I believe I went under the water about two times before I caught hold of the aircraft.
I couldn't remove my chute. My legs were numb. But finally my navigator dragged me out and we were all amazed to see that I still had my legs. All of us loaded into the rubber life rafts and as we paddled away from the aircraft 'she' slowly sank. (She was a lady to the last.)
There we were near Sicily (German held) and 57 miles from North Africa ( or 77 miles from the Allied portion of North Africa) – Being that it was so late in the afternoon, no one found us. Besides, we had given the Germans enough to do as my bombardier sank a ship – a nice big one with plenty of personnel and equipment on board). That night was a cold one. Our clothes were wet – and the air cold. But we took turns at the oars to gain headway towards freedom and body warmth besides. When morning came, with its breezes, I made a bucket sail out of my dear old red and black P.J.s. The we really made the miles to freedom shorter.
It was about 1630 on the 24th Feb when some Italian bi-motor sea planes spotted us. Soon all three of them landed in the water near us and we became POWs Italian style. They flew us to Sardinia where we were turned over to the Germans. But each of us claimed loss of memory, shock, stupidity etc. - therefore the Germans finally ceased to ask us questions about the Allies, Allied aircraft, our unit, etc. Then we were turned over to the Italian government again for safe-keeping as POWs.
Being a POW is the same thing as being a monkey in a zoo. People come to see you and from the other side of the bars they curse you, spit on you and etc. but there wasn't a thing that we could do, after all we had personal guards and they carried firearms, not us.
Escape was impossible as we were too well guarded, spoke no Italian or German. About the last day or so of Feb. 1942 we were transferred to Rome, Italy. Personally, I was glad to leave because t was a chance to escape(when in Rome) and secure freedom in the Vatican -city. Also the B-26 bombers were getting too good on bombing this military target on Sardinia. One bomb landed so close one day before I left that it blew our window out. That made the evenings colder than ever. It was lucky for us that the old model 1875 train was on time because the B-26s made direct hits on that railroad station.
As for my travels through Sardinia, it was very boring. Of course we weren't crowded on the train as the civilians were afraid of us '(the American Bandits' as they nick-named us). At each stop, our guards would look so proud and important as they displayed us to the people at the railroad station.
About 3/4 of the trip to the north east tip of Sardinia was over when we were transferred to a cattle car. It was filthy so we stood up the rest of the way. When the doors of the box car were opened we found ourselves in another Italian and German military post. After a couple of sad days consisting of bed bugs, lice, rotten food and humiliation we were taken to a port (I've forgotten its name) and boarded the luxury liner 'Rex' for a sneaking voyage through the fog and darkness of the night to Rome. We didn't get enough to eat, but the bunks were grand - so clean, soft and comfortable. In the morning we were escorted off the boat to a naval military post where we were treated like humans. We ate one meal there and again we were put on a train in one of those funny foreign compartments as they gave on all trains in Europe. Our guards were frightened every time we went through a tunnel as it would get pitch black and we would make odd noises. But they remedied this by installing a scarce item known as a light bulb. In a few hours we arrived in Rome...
The railway station was jammed with troops – fresh recruits heading for Africa, I suppose, and others had been to Africa and were returning. With missing limbs, wound and such. Escape from here would have been foolish as we were still in American uniforms
Lt. Hawkins goes on to describe his stay in Poggio Mirteto, his arrival at PG 21 Chieti, his time there and his escape with 1/Lt. Russell J. Gardinier, bombardier from Natchez to Memphis.
1/Lt. Russell J. Gardinier
In his book 1/Lt. Gardinier writes about the events following the Italian Armistice of 8 September:
Italy surrenders and we wait far some one to tell us what to do. We don't have to wait long, for we wake up one morning to find Jerry paratroopers on the wall. We spend that day completing our tunnel, laying plans and getting ready to slip out the following night. The next morning the paratroopers call us out with our gear...for roll call. put a guard around us and march us away. As we pass through the gate, I look back toward the cookhouse wherein lies the entrance to our tunnel. We finished it twelve hours too late.
We clamber into the trucks and are transported southwest to still another camp in central Italy It is is a camp built at the foot of a mountain, divided into numerous compounds, each one a little higher on the slope than the next so that from the upper compound I can look down onto the roofs of the buildings in the (next) lower. There is no wall, but in its place are five sets of barbed wire and the German guards stroll up and down between them. As darkness begins to descend. we find portions of the wire insufficiently guarded and a half dozen men manage to slip off before the Jerries become aware of the escapes. They double the guard and mount heavy machine guns at the corners.
Early the next day we are all herded into the lower compound and counted while searchers diligently scour the camp to make stare the count is correct. It is accurate, for the few who sought to confuse the count by hiding in the buildings are discovered. It is now impossible to slip through the wire and there is not enough time to dig a tunnel. The exodus begins. Each day 200 to 300 men are taken from the camp to the nearby rail junction and loaded into box cars headed for Germany. Everyone seeks to avoid the transfer by attempting to find or build hiding places within the camp. The Jerries get wise and soon learn of all these places. Hawkins and I watch them search and then form a plan. We try to find a place so obvious as to be beyond the reach of the German mind. Any deception must be mental because no matter how cleverly disguised are the physical hiding places, the Jerries find them. We must make them deceive themselves. We form our plan.
The two airmen hide in the ceiling space after having made it obvious that someone has already tried to hide there – they leave the access hole open and scratch the wall with their feet. They move through the roof space by laying bed boards across the rafters until they reach the far end of the building, away from the hole. At the far end there is another building with a lower roof space, and they squeeze themselves through into it, taking their supplies and blankets with them. They lay their bed boards side by side across the rafters to make a bed, intending to stay there until the camp is empty and they can slip away. The Germans come up into the roof space but in the darkness don't find them.
We figure maybe two days to be sure. We talk in whispers as our building and those nearby begin to empty and grow silent. We can no longer hear the colonel or guard. Only voices in the distance passing down to the lower compound. We lie here listening to the sound of motors being started: trucks on low gear passing away toward the gate. There go our buddies: there goes what remains of Hawkins' and my crews...We look at each other with a certain satisfaction...'So far, so good,' whispers Frank. We look at each other and shake hands. We got out all right, we didn't have strength enough to pull the wire apart so we had to crawl through the double gates at the corner...
The two escapers were found and helped by 'Toni', who had for a time lived in Baltimore where he had been employed in the steelworks. He hid them, first of all in a shack on his land, then in a cave in an olive grove and lastly in another cave higher up the mountain.
Twice a day he passed the Germans billeted in his house, passed the German sentry at the gate to his courtyard and food to us hiding in the fields or in the hills...He dyed our clothes, taught us to walk and look like Italians, brought news to us and encouraged us.
Another friend was Alberto, who found them a guide to help them over the mountains to the Allied lines...
We hiked for three days always up and down, avoiding the towns and hamlets by climbing the mountains behind them and descending to new valleys beyond...we moved by our rude compasses from peak to peak..we spent six hours plunging through hip-deep snow covering the crest of the Maiella (a 8,000ft mountain) and sliding down the lee side in heavy gray mist which blanketed the slope...mountain guns were rumbling continuously...
On their last day the set off around eight in the evening, before the moon was up, and at four o'clock the following morning they crossed the lines, arriving at the 'town of the English' where they bumped into a Scottish sentry. According to Lt. Hawkins this town was Carsoli.
Italy surrenders and we wait far some one to tell us what to do. We don't have to wait long, for we wake up one morning to find Jerry paratroopers on the wall. We spend that day completing our tunnel, laying plans and getting ready to slip out the following night. The next morning the paratroopers call us out with our gear...for roll call. put a guard around us and march us away. As we pass through the gate, I look back toward the cookhouse wherein lies the entrance to our tunnel. We finished it twelve hours too late.
We clamber into the trucks and are transported southwest to still another camp in central Italy It is is a camp built at the foot of a mountain, divided into numerous compounds, each one a little higher on the slope than the next so that from the upper compound I can look down onto the roofs of the buildings in the (next) lower. There is no wall, but in its place are five sets of barbed wire and the German guards stroll up and down between them. As darkness begins to descend. we find portions of the wire insufficiently guarded and a half dozen men manage to slip off before the Jerries become aware of the escapes. They double the guard and mount heavy machine guns at the corners.
Early the next day we are all herded into the lower compound and counted while searchers diligently scour the camp to make stare the count is correct. It is accurate, for the few who sought to confuse the count by hiding in the buildings are discovered. It is now impossible to slip through the wire and there is not enough time to dig a tunnel. The exodus begins. Each day 200 to 300 men are taken from the camp to the nearby rail junction and loaded into box cars headed for Germany. Everyone seeks to avoid the transfer by attempting to find or build hiding places within the camp. The Jerries get wise and soon learn of all these places. Hawkins and I watch them search and then form a plan. We try to find a place so obvious as to be beyond the reach of the German mind. Any deception must be mental because no matter how cleverly disguised are the physical hiding places, the Jerries find them. We must make them deceive themselves. We form our plan.
The two airmen hide in the ceiling space after having made it obvious that someone has already tried to hide there – they leave the access hole open and scratch the wall with their feet. They move through the roof space by laying bed boards across the rafters until they reach the far end of the building, away from the hole. At the far end there is another building with a lower roof space, and they squeeze themselves through into it, taking their supplies and blankets with them. They lay their bed boards side by side across the rafters to make a bed, intending to stay there until the camp is empty and they can slip away. The Germans come up into the roof space but in the darkness don't find them.
We figure maybe two days to be sure. We talk in whispers as our building and those nearby begin to empty and grow silent. We can no longer hear the colonel or guard. Only voices in the distance passing down to the lower compound. We lie here listening to the sound of motors being started: trucks on low gear passing away toward the gate. There go our buddies: there goes what remains of Hawkins' and my crews...We look at each other with a certain satisfaction...'So far, so good,' whispers Frank. We look at each other and shake hands. We got out all right, we didn't have strength enough to pull the wire apart so we had to crawl through the double gates at the corner...
The two escapers were found and helped by 'Toni', who had for a time lived in Baltimore where he had been employed in the steelworks. He hid them, first of all in a shack on his land, then in a cave in an olive grove and lastly in another cave higher up the mountain.
Twice a day he passed the Germans billeted in his house, passed the German sentry at the gate to his courtyard and food to us hiding in the fields or in the hills...He dyed our clothes, taught us to walk and look like Italians, brought news to us and encouraged us.
Another friend was Alberto, who found them a guide to help them over the mountains to the Allied lines...
We hiked for three days always up and down, avoiding the towns and hamlets by climbing the mountains behind them and descending to new valleys beyond...we moved by our rude compasses from peak to peak..we spent six hours plunging through hip-deep snow covering the crest of the Maiella (a 8,000ft mountain) and sliding down the lee side in heavy gray mist which blanketed the slope...mountain guns were rumbling continuously...
On their last day the set off around eight in the evening, before the moon was up, and at four o'clock the following morning they crossed the lines, arriving at the 'town of the English' where they bumped into a Scottish sentry. According to Lt. Hawkins this town was Carsoli.
Flight Sergeant J.W.T. Duffield
103 Squadron, Royal Air Force,
Downed in friendly fire incident 15th February 1943 near Mila
103 Squadron, Royal Air Force,
Downed in friendly fire incident 15th February 1943 near Mila
568313 Flight Engineer Sergeant Jimmy Duffield 's plane was one of a flight of 140 Lancaster bombers converging on Milan in the early hours of 15th February 1943. A concentration of bombers arriving on target in a short space of time was intended to overwhelm the defences but it also increased the risk of other hazards. There was the risk of being hit by bombs falling from another aircraft. One aircraft from 103 Squadron, piloted by Squadron Leader Walter Powdrell, a New Zealander, was hit by a stream of small incendiary bombs. http://ww2today.com/15th-february-1943-bombed-by-own-aircraft-as-raf-attack-milan
Sergeant Duffield testified as follows:
We were just turning off to clear away. All of a sudden I heard this awful battering noise. I don’t know what he thought he was bombing because we were a minute clear of the target so he wasn’t bombing that. All the engines stopped. I heard the pilot say ’We’ve had it. You’d better jump’.I was very lucky that I had my parachute with me. So I made my way to the rear door. But I couldn’t open it. The aircraft started to twist and I put my back against the bomb compartment on the fuselage floor and braced myself there. The aircraft was spinning like mad by this time. I was just stuck there with the force of the spin. Suddenly the spinning stopped, I made my way to the rear door and leapt out. My harness was loose and the jerk of the opening parachute ripped into my groin. The pain was something to be believed, agonizing.
Powdrell and three other other crew members didn’t get out of the aircraft before it crashed. After being captured Sgt. Duffield was held in Poggio Mirteto (he calls it Camp no. 3 in his Escape and Evasion Report) where he was interned from 20 February – 7 March, before being sent on to Campo PG 59 Servigliano. He escaped from PG 59 on 14 August, making his way on foot through Ascoli Piceno, Teramo, Chieti, Atessa,and Roccaspinalveti to the Allied lines where he arrived on 9 December 1943.
Sergeant Duffield testified as follows:
We were just turning off to clear away. All of a sudden I heard this awful battering noise. I don’t know what he thought he was bombing because we were a minute clear of the target so he wasn’t bombing that. All the engines stopped. I heard the pilot say ’We’ve had it. You’d better jump’.I was very lucky that I had my parachute with me. So I made my way to the rear door. But I couldn’t open it. The aircraft started to twist and I put my back against the bomb compartment on the fuselage floor and braced myself there. The aircraft was spinning like mad by this time. I was just stuck there with the force of the spin. Suddenly the spinning stopped, I made my way to the rear door and leapt out. My harness was loose and the jerk of the opening parachute ripped into my groin. The pain was something to be believed, agonizing.
Powdrell and three other other crew members didn’t get out of the aircraft before it crashed. After being captured Sgt. Duffield was held in Poggio Mirteto (he calls it Camp no. 3 in his Escape and Evasion Report) where he was interned from 20 February – 7 March, before being sent on to Campo PG 59 Servigliano. He escaped from PG 59 on 14 August, making his way on foot through Ascoli Piceno, Teramo, Chieti, Atessa,and Roccaspinalveti to the Allied lines where he arrived on 9 December 1943.
May -June 1943
Lieut. Roger L. Zeller
Lieut. John S. Van Epps
Lieut. John S. Van Epps
War Diary 319 Bomb Group
22 October 1943
AN ADVANCED AFRICAN AIR BASE
Two B-26 Marauder pilots, both former athletes, arrived back at this base today to tell of three months in Italian and German prison camps, a last-minute escape before scheduled removal to Germany and a month of dodging Germans while walking to Allied lines. They are Lieuts. Roger L. Zeller and John S. Van Epps. They had parachuted out of separate bombers shot down by Italian fighters over Olbia harbor, Sardinia, June 18. They were captured and put in the guardhouse of an Italian airfield and then in a city jail in southern Sardinia before being flown to a 'quarantine camp' outside Rome in an Italian transport plane.
There, quartered in separate rooms, they were interrogated daily for 11 days. They found English warnings cut in wood under chairs and drawers, such as 'Beware - microphone in ventilator in ceiling.' The warnings were confirmed by a guard who disliked Mussolini and traded them smuggled bread for English lessons...After 11 days of unsuccessful questioning the Americans were put in rooms together and the Italian commandant became a fourth at bridge with Zeller, Van Epps and a B-17 pilot. They next were moved to the prison camp at Chieti near the east coast of Italy across the boot from Rome. Here they joined 1500 other prisoners, mostly Englishmen taken at Tobruk. Of the 200 Americans in the camp all but 35 were flyers.
22 October 1943
AN ADVANCED AFRICAN AIR BASE
Two B-26 Marauder pilots, both former athletes, arrived back at this base today to tell of three months in Italian and German prison camps, a last-minute escape before scheduled removal to Germany and a month of dodging Germans while walking to Allied lines. They are Lieuts. Roger L. Zeller and John S. Van Epps. They had parachuted out of separate bombers shot down by Italian fighters over Olbia harbor, Sardinia, June 18. They were captured and put in the guardhouse of an Italian airfield and then in a city jail in southern Sardinia before being flown to a 'quarantine camp' outside Rome in an Italian transport plane.
There, quartered in separate rooms, they were interrogated daily for 11 days. They found English warnings cut in wood under chairs and drawers, such as 'Beware - microphone in ventilator in ceiling.' The warnings were confirmed by a guard who disliked Mussolini and traded them smuggled bread for English lessons...After 11 days of unsuccessful questioning the Americans were put in rooms together and the Italian commandant became a fourth at bridge with Zeller, Van Epps and a B-17 pilot. They next were moved to the prison camp at Chieti near the east coast of Italy across the boot from Rome. Here they joined 1500 other prisoners, mostly Englishmen taken at Tobruk. Of the 200 Americans in the camp all but 35 were flyers.
Lieut. John Dane Sinclair RNVR
Lieut. Alan Murray Simpson RNVR
828 Squadron Fleet Air Arm
Shot down at the entrance to Catania harbour May 1943
Lieut. Alan Murray Simpson RNVR
828 Squadron Fleet Air Arm
Shot down at the entrance to Catania harbour May 1943
In February 1943 Lieutenant John Dane Sinclair RNVR and Lieutenant Alan Murray Simpson RNVR were posted to 828 Squadron Fleet Air Arm at RNAS Hal Far, Malta, flying Albacores together. Their plane was shot down while on a mission to drop a mine at the entrance of Catania harbour in May 1943, crashing into the sea. They ended up in a dinghy, were captured by German and Italian troops and taken to Catania air base,from where they were transferred to Rome, and then to a converted convent in Poggio Mirteto where they were interrogated. They were then sent to separate prisoner of war camps in Abruzzo, but were moved to PG 78 Sulmona in September 1943 and thence to Moosburg near Munich (Stalag VIIA), and Oflag VIIIF, near Dresden, before Sinclair was moved to Milag und Marlag Nord, Westertimke, Germany where Simpson had been for a while. The camp was liberated by 11 Armoured Division in April 1945.
(From document held in the Imperial War Museum, London)
(From document held in the Imperial War Museum, London)
Sub-Lieut.Thomas C. Chapman RNVR
828 Squadron Fleet Air Arm
Shot down off Cape Stilo. Italy
828 Squadron Fleet Air Arm
Shot down off Cape Stilo. Italy
Sub-Lt. T.C. Chapman, and Sub-Lt. P. Scotcher of 828 Sqdn failed to return back to Hal Far on 6 June 1943 after being sent on an operational patrol off Cape Stilo, Italy. The men made it into their dinghy, but it capsized and Sub. L. P. Scotcher was killed. Sub. Lt. Chapman was then taken POW by the Italians and being injured, was looked after some nuns for several weeks. He recalls:
When we reached a point somewhere north of Rome, I was, with my guards transferred to an army truck which took me to the interrogation camp at Poggio Mirteto, where I was taken not to a cell but a room in the building on the second floor which, I found not to be too uncomfortable...I was given a book which during the course of the next few weeks I read several times.
I arrived at Chieti which is about 10-15 miles inland from Pescara. This was my first P.O.W. camp. It was good to be among friends again and sample the P.O.W. life. My first impression was that I had nothing to do and all day to do it in. There was a fellow pilot from the 828 squadron (either Lt. J.D. Sinclair RNVR or Lt. A. M. Simpson RNVR) who had been shot down on a mine-laying operation, and also a friend of mine from pre-war days whose name was Johnson. Quite a number of Americans were with us and they made several challenges to we British. On our side we were indebted to international and county cricketers which included F. B. Brown and Bill Bowes (probably 100126 Captain F. R. Brown, and 156890 2/Lt. W.E. Bowes, both held in Chieti and transferred to Offlag O79).
When we reached a point somewhere north of Rome, I was, with my guards transferred to an army truck which took me to the interrogation camp at Poggio Mirteto, where I was taken not to a cell but a room in the building on the second floor which, I found not to be too uncomfortable...I was given a book which during the course of the next few weeks I read several times.
I arrived at Chieti which is about 10-15 miles inland from Pescara. This was my first P.O.W. camp. It was good to be among friends again and sample the P.O.W. life. My first impression was that I had nothing to do and all day to do it in. There was a fellow pilot from the 828 squadron (either Lt. J.D. Sinclair RNVR or Lt. A. M. Simpson RNVR) who had been shot down on a mine-laying operation, and also a friend of mine from pre-war days whose name was Johnson. Quite a number of Americans were with us and they made several challenges to we British. On our side we were indebted to international and county cricketers which included F. B. Brown and Bill Bowes (probably 100126 Captain F. R. Brown, and 156890 2/Lt. W.E. Bowes, both held in Chieti and transferred to Offlag O79).
July 1943
Two of the men taken prisoner following the loss of their planes during the attacks on Gerbini airfield, Sicily, were Captain Frank Buchanan and 1/Lt. Herbert O. Perry. Capt. Buchanan's report is to be found in 319 bomb Group's War Diary and Lt. Perry's in the book The Diamondbacks.
Captain Frank A. Buchanan
319 BG Decimomannu 18 November 1943.
An American pilot who escaped from a German prison camp in Italy gas returned with eyewitness accounts of riots in Rome after the first raid on the city, German mistreatment of Italians and desperate escape attempts of Allied prisoners about to be transported to German.
Capt. Frank A. Buchanan, 23, 131 6tth Ave., Altoona, PA., bailed out of his B-26 Marauder which was shot down July 4 over Gerbini, Sicily. He was taken to Catania jail where, during interrogation, he was threatened with physical violence, handcuffed and stood in a corner and during one day was given no food or water.
He spent two weeks in solitary confinement in an interrogation camp at Poggio (Mirteto), Italy, after which he was sent to the prison camp at Chieti, Italy, passing through Rome three days after the 19 July raid.
'The fires had just died,' he said. 'Twelve ammunition trains were hit. There were riots in the street all night long. You could hear shootings. Mobs beat Fascists and wrecked their houses.'
The Germans took over the Chieti camp, where the prisoners lived principally on Red Cross parcels, and on 23 September moved the prisoners to Sulmona to facilitate evacuation to Germany.
'The inmates,' Capt. Buchanan said, 'immediately began planning and executing escapes. Some got out through a barbed-wire covered hole above the back wall of the latrine, but the Germans caught one fellow who had gone through there and stopped everybody using the latrine. Then they started getting out at other points and one by one the guards would spot the weak points and stop them up. When I got out all the easy places had been used up. But I found a place where I could get through the barbed wire and where the guards patrolling outside it had their backs turned regularly during their walking tours long enough to get across and open space and hide. That's what I did and it worked fine, although other prisoners who tried that sop later on were shot, I found out from men who escaped after I did. In fact, a good many were shot in all during that one night and others were recaptured.'
Captain Buchanan, aided by Italian civilians, made his way back to the Allied lines afoot, sticking to isolated mountains trails. He caught yellow jaundice en route and had to sleep in a cave for some days.
'The Germans conducted systematic hunts in many towns,' he related, 'for Italian men to put in their labor battalions. Consequently the Italians ran and hid whenever German patrols approached. In one town from which all the Italians had fled they found only a 19.year-old boy. They vented their anger on him, beating him up so severely that he was unable to walk. In another town they threatened to carry off the 13 and 14-year-old boys unless they men returned. Whether they did it I don't know.'
A squadron operations officer, Captain Buchanan was on his 13th mission when he was shot down. He was born in Philadelphia. His father, C.O. Frank S. Buchanan, serves with a tank destroyer unit.
An American pilot who escaped from a German prison camp in Italy gas returned with eyewitness accounts of riots in Rome after the first raid on the city, German mistreatment of Italians and desperate escape attempts of Allied prisoners about to be transported to German.
Capt. Frank A. Buchanan, 23, 131 6tth Ave., Altoona, PA., bailed out of his B-26 Marauder which was shot down July 4 over Gerbini, Sicily. He was taken to Catania jail where, during interrogation, he was threatened with physical violence, handcuffed and stood in a corner and during one day was given no food or water.
He spent two weeks in solitary confinement in an interrogation camp at Poggio (Mirteto), Italy, after which he was sent to the prison camp at Chieti, Italy, passing through Rome three days after the 19 July raid.
'The fires had just died,' he said. 'Twelve ammunition trains were hit. There were riots in the street all night long. You could hear shootings. Mobs beat Fascists and wrecked their houses.'
The Germans took over the Chieti camp, where the prisoners lived principally on Red Cross parcels, and on 23 September moved the prisoners to Sulmona to facilitate evacuation to Germany.
'The inmates,' Capt. Buchanan said, 'immediately began planning and executing escapes. Some got out through a barbed-wire covered hole above the back wall of the latrine, but the Germans caught one fellow who had gone through there and stopped everybody using the latrine. Then they started getting out at other points and one by one the guards would spot the weak points and stop them up. When I got out all the easy places had been used up. But I found a place where I could get through the barbed wire and where the guards patrolling outside it had their backs turned regularly during their walking tours long enough to get across and open space and hide. That's what I did and it worked fine, although other prisoners who tried that sop later on were shot, I found out from men who escaped after I did. In fact, a good many were shot in all during that one night and others were recaptured.'
Captain Buchanan, aided by Italian civilians, made his way back to the Allied lines afoot, sticking to isolated mountains trails. He caught yellow jaundice en route and had to sleep in a cave for some days.
'The Germans conducted systematic hunts in many towns,' he related, 'for Italian men to put in their labor battalions. Consequently the Italians ran and hid whenever German patrols approached. In one town from which all the Italians had fled they found only a 19.year-old boy. They vented their anger on him, beating him up so severely that he was unable to walk. In another town they threatened to carry off the 13 and 14-year-old boys unless they men returned. Whether they did it I don't know.'
A squadron operations officer, Captain Buchanan was on his 13th mission when he was shot down. He was born in Philadelphia. His father, C.O. Frank S. Buchanan, serves with a tank destroyer unit.
1/Lt. Herbert O. Perry
On July 5, 1943, our plane was attacking the Gerbini A/Ds. Intense heavy flak...blew large holes in both wings and knocked out our #4 engine, causing us to fall behind the formation. Our two wing men followed us. All the time we were aggressively attacked by four flights of 12 Me-109s each. We dropped out bombs on the target and while turning off, both wing planes were shot down. We turned towards Malta but by now the enemy aircraft had destroyed all the controls, set the plane afire and killed: co-pilot Ewalt: tail gunner Mills: ball turret gunner Sergeant Esposito: and Sergeants Fleming and Huckabee were wounded. Sergeant Mills left his position in the tail after being seriously wounded and helped feed ammunition for the waist gunner until he died. The consensus of our crew is that we destroyed seven Me-109s. At 12,000 feet we bailed out. On the way down one fighter made a pass but did not fire. After I landed near Comiso, Sicily, and had satisfied the natives that I was an American, they were very friendly and tried to prevent the police from taking us away. I requested medical aid of the police because I had a few flak splinters in my left shoulder. They ignored me but provided care for Fleming and Huckabee.
At the interrogation the police took all my clothes and personal effects except my shorts. Later, part of the clothing was returned. A printed interrogation form was submitted but I only complied with name, rank, and serial number. An unopened fountain pen was offered for me to use but something about the manner of the presentation made me decline to use it. This caused the Italian colonel who was interrogating me to break into a tirade. He accused me of knowing the pen was booby trap. He claimed that Allied airmen had dropped large numbers of such pens without explaining the damaging nature of them.
They moved me from Sicily on July 9th along with Lt. Davis, Lt. Shank, and Sgt. Withrow. We went directly to Poggio Mirteto... A few days later we were taken to Rome and quartered in a former bishop's house. This was about 1,000 yards south of the Vatican. The senior officer said he was a former British Commando but his background didn't ring true. I became acquainted with Lt. G.W. Barnes, a Mosquito pilot who had been shot down at the same time and place as we were. The officers and enlisted men were separated, and on July 28 we were taken by train to Chieti where we stayed until the Armistice.
At Chieti, the Interrogator tried to work on our sympathy saying that Rome was pressing for results and that he would lose his job if we refused cooperation. He produced a photo of a B-24 with all its crew saying that this plane had mistakenly followed a beam into Sicily and landed intact with all equipment Including the bomb sight. Finally after my continued polite refusal to divulge information. he said that he wished Italian airmen were as close-mouthed when captured. I was not aware of any microphones being used although Poggio Mirteto was later reputed to he a 'hot-spot' for their use. When the armistice was signed the senior British officer, Lt. Col.Marshall claimed to have definite orders that POWs would remain in camp, further stating he had an Italian Colonel's word that we would not be delivered to the Germans We therefore posted our own guard to keep the 1,200 British and 240 American officers in camp. On September 15 German parachute troops appeared, set up machine guns and took off the ,guard. On the 23rd they packed us in trucks and took us to Sulmona. After reaching there Lt. Max Gooles said the Germans were definitely taking us to Germany.
I asked tor and received his permission to make an escape attempt. He granted permission although previously had said we would be court martialled if we tried. With Flight Officer Glen Wilson of the RAF I escaped on September 23, 1943. We found large numbers of escaped British soldiers in the hills. After living in the hills from September 23, during which time Italian peasants brought us food and civilian clothes, we were caught by a German patrol and forced to join a working part along with 200 Italians. The Germans thought we were Italians and our true identity was never discovered. This work consisted of digging ditches and preparing the ground for fortifications. On October 23 we escaped and were given refuge by a family in Sulmona. At this time I was given an Italian identification card. also a forged certificate of release from labor details. (This certificate was given to those who were ill.)
On November 13 I drew a plan of the German mine fields, tank traps and other military positions. I gave this to a girl whose name I did not know to take to Rome with instructions to give it to a priest, hoping it would reach Allied hands. One month later the Germans came with a party of laborers and removed all the mines. At this time a reward of 20,000 lire was placed on my head forcing me to change residences frequently. On December 22 a lone German caught me at a house where I was staying. I pretended to go meekly but slugged and strangled him to death. Later I had the Italians bury him. On March 23 I took two Italians and tore up two sections of the railroad south of Sulmona. I heard later that it caused the derailment of a train carrying oil and gasoline. Early in the morning of June 9, 1944, the Germans blew up the bridge on the main highway north of Sulmona. Later that morning I went openly into Sulmona and informed the Italian police I was taking command of the city in the name of the Allies, giving instructions that they were to round up all Fascists. My chief assistant at this time was Mario de Cesare, known to the British as Mario Terzo or Mario 3. He had previously done effective work in helping evaders and escapees. The worst Italian offender was a man called Tacamatac and his sisters. He was tried and put in prison later by the Allies. On June 12 I met Major Tony Smith from the American Fifth Army and returned to Allied Territory.
At the interrogation the police took all my clothes and personal effects except my shorts. Later, part of the clothing was returned. A printed interrogation form was submitted but I only complied with name, rank, and serial number. An unopened fountain pen was offered for me to use but something about the manner of the presentation made me decline to use it. This caused the Italian colonel who was interrogating me to break into a tirade. He accused me of knowing the pen was booby trap. He claimed that Allied airmen had dropped large numbers of such pens without explaining the damaging nature of them.
They moved me from Sicily on July 9th along with Lt. Davis, Lt. Shank, and Sgt. Withrow. We went directly to Poggio Mirteto... A few days later we were taken to Rome and quartered in a former bishop's house. This was about 1,000 yards south of the Vatican. The senior officer said he was a former British Commando but his background didn't ring true. I became acquainted with Lt. G.W. Barnes, a Mosquito pilot who had been shot down at the same time and place as we were. The officers and enlisted men were separated, and on July 28 we were taken by train to Chieti where we stayed until the Armistice.
At Chieti, the Interrogator tried to work on our sympathy saying that Rome was pressing for results and that he would lose his job if we refused cooperation. He produced a photo of a B-24 with all its crew saying that this plane had mistakenly followed a beam into Sicily and landed intact with all equipment Including the bomb sight. Finally after my continued polite refusal to divulge information. he said that he wished Italian airmen were as close-mouthed when captured. I was not aware of any microphones being used although Poggio Mirteto was later reputed to he a 'hot-spot' for their use. When the armistice was signed the senior British officer, Lt. Col.Marshall claimed to have definite orders that POWs would remain in camp, further stating he had an Italian Colonel's word that we would not be delivered to the Germans We therefore posted our own guard to keep the 1,200 British and 240 American officers in camp. On September 15 German parachute troops appeared, set up machine guns and took off the ,guard. On the 23rd they packed us in trucks and took us to Sulmona. After reaching there Lt. Max Gooles said the Germans were definitely taking us to Germany.
I asked tor and received his permission to make an escape attempt. He granted permission although previously had said we would be court martialled if we tried. With Flight Officer Glen Wilson of the RAF I escaped on September 23, 1943. We found large numbers of escaped British soldiers in the hills. After living in the hills from September 23, during which time Italian peasants brought us food and civilian clothes, we were caught by a German patrol and forced to join a working part along with 200 Italians. The Germans thought we were Italians and our true identity was never discovered. This work consisted of digging ditches and preparing the ground for fortifications. On October 23 we escaped and were given refuge by a family in Sulmona. At this time I was given an Italian identification card. also a forged certificate of release from labor details. (This certificate was given to those who were ill.)
On November 13 I drew a plan of the German mine fields, tank traps and other military positions. I gave this to a girl whose name I did not know to take to Rome with instructions to give it to a priest, hoping it would reach Allied hands. One month later the Germans came with a party of laborers and removed all the mines. At this time a reward of 20,000 lire was placed on my head forcing me to change residences frequently. On December 22 a lone German caught me at a house where I was staying. I pretended to go meekly but slugged and strangled him to death. Later I had the Italians bury him. On March 23 I took two Italians and tore up two sections of the railroad south of Sulmona. I heard later that it caused the derailment of a train carrying oil and gasoline. Early in the morning of June 9, 1944, the Germans blew up the bridge on the main highway north of Sulmona. Later that morning I went openly into Sulmona and informed the Italian police I was taking command of the city in the name of the Allies, giving instructions that they were to round up all Fascists. My chief assistant at this time was Mario de Cesare, known to the British as Mario Terzo or Mario 3. He had previously done effective work in helping evaders and escapees. The worst Italian offender was a man called Tacamatac and his sisters. He was tried and put in prison later by the Allies. On June 12 I met Major Tony Smith from the American Fifth Army and returned to Allied Territory.
O-022443 Lt. Col. Charles Ross Greening
Washington State University art graduate Ross Greening was serving as a B-25 pilot in the Northwest at the outbreak of WWII. In 1942, he participated in the famous Doolittle bombing raid over Tokyo, which started a chain of events altering the course of the Pacific war. Greening designed the special bomb-sight used during the mission and later painted a one-of-a-kind record of the attack.
Greening next was assigned to the North African theatre. His luck ran out on 17 July 1943 when Axis gunners shot down his B-25 Mitchell, causing it to crash near Mt. Vesuvius after the crew had baled out. After capture and being held first at Poggio Mirteto and then at PG 21 Chieti, Lt. Col. Greening was entrained for Germany. However, he escaped from the train during an Allied-bombing raid and evaded recapture for more than six months in northern Italy. German soldiers who had been tipped off about Greening's hideaway in a high mountain cave eventually captured him.
In Stalag Luft I at Barth, Greening was one of the Allied camp commanders. He continued to make an amazing pictorial record of the war--of his own experiences and those of dozens of other prisoners who related their accounts to him. Near the war's end, the Allied prisoners seized control of the camp before the Russian army overran it. Greening's invaluable watercolors, sketches, diary, and other items, a good portion of which had been hidden from the Germans, were safely brought out.
In recent years, Greening's niece and widow compiled his memoirs in a book is entitled Not As Briefed: From the Doolittle Raid to a German Stalag. Pullman, WA, Washington State University Press, 2001.
See also http://www.historyink.fog/File/10320
Greening next was assigned to the North African theatre. His luck ran out on 17 July 1943 when Axis gunners shot down his B-25 Mitchell, causing it to crash near Mt. Vesuvius after the crew had baled out. After capture and being held first at Poggio Mirteto and then at PG 21 Chieti, Lt. Col. Greening was entrained for Germany. However, he escaped from the train during an Allied-bombing raid and evaded recapture for more than six months in northern Italy. German soldiers who had been tipped off about Greening's hideaway in a high mountain cave eventually captured him.
In Stalag Luft I at Barth, Greening was one of the Allied camp commanders. He continued to make an amazing pictorial record of the war--of his own experiences and those of dozens of other prisoners who related their accounts to him. Near the war's end, the Allied prisoners seized control of the camp before the Russian army overran it. Greening's invaluable watercolors, sketches, diary, and other items, a good portion of which had been hidden from the Germans, were safely brought out.
In recent years, Greening's niece and widow compiled his memoirs in a book is entitled Not As Briefed: From the Doolittle Raid to a German Stalag. Pullman, WA, Washington State University Press, 2001.
See also http://www.historyink.fog/File/10320
THE LAST-KNOWN INTERNEES
LATE AUGUST AND SEPTEMBER 1943 and THE ARMISTICE
LATE AUGUST AND SEPTEMBER 1943 and THE ARMISTICE
Of the twenty airmen who appear on Capt. Kenneth L. Johnson's list of 10 June 1944, and who left Poggio Mirteto shortly after the Italian Armistice of 8 September 1943,
2/Lt. Cates stepped on a mine whilst trying to join Allied lines, and was killed
1/Lt. Schlitzkus and 2/Lt. Deisenroth were recaptured and sent to Stalag Luft 1
2/Lt. Caraberis, 2/Lt. De Louche and F.O. Jowett were recaptured and sent to Stalag Luft 3
W.O. Oglivie, Maj. Bright, T/Sgt. Nelson, 2/Lt. Hyland, 2/Lt. Curdes, 2/Lt. Catledge, 2/Lt. Dahl, Capt. Rulien, 2/Lt. Ruppelt, 2/Lt. Fassoulis, 2/Lt. Parlett, 2/Lt. Rigney and 2/Lt. Morrison escaped and rejoined their lines
Of these, Capt. Johnson, 2/Lt.Curdes, 2/Lt. Catledge and 2/Lt. Parlett were helped by the inhabitants of the Comune of Fontana Liri, which lies behind the lines at Cassino, and appear on a list of prisoners of war held in the Town's Archives. Capt. Johnson also left a note for the Allies, thanking one of the men who had helped them. The note shows that at least six of the men in Fontana Liri had decided not to risk crossing the lines but to await the arrival of the Allied Forces (8 Indian Division liberated the town on 29 May 1944).
2/Lt. Cates stepped on a mine whilst trying to join Allied lines, and was killed
1/Lt. Schlitzkus and 2/Lt. Deisenroth were recaptured and sent to Stalag Luft 1
2/Lt. Caraberis, 2/Lt. De Louche and F.O. Jowett were recaptured and sent to Stalag Luft 3
W.O. Oglivie, Maj. Bright, T/Sgt. Nelson, 2/Lt. Hyland, 2/Lt. Curdes, 2/Lt. Catledge, 2/Lt. Dahl, Capt. Rulien, 2/Lt. Ruppelt, 2/Lt. Fassoulis, 2/Lt. Parlett, 2/Lt. Rigney and 2/Lt. Morrison escaped and rejoined their lines
Of these, Capt. Johnson, 2/Lt.Curdes, 2/Lt. Catledge and 2/Lt. Parlett were helped by the inhabitants of the Comune of Fontana Liri, which lies behind the lines at Cassino, and appear on a list of prisoners of war held in the Town's Archives. Capt. Johnson also left a note for the Allies, thanking one of the men who had helped them. The note shows that at least six of the men in Fontana Liri had decided not to risk crossing the lines but to await the arrival of the Allied Forces (8 Indian Division liberated the town on 29 May 1944).
Several of the airmen are also mentioned in the log book of E.R.A. William T. H. 'Bill' Morris (member of the crew of H.M. Submarine Saracen), and in turn E.R.A. Morris and his crew-mate Ldg. Smn. Charlie Nicholas are mentioned in the 'Sonny' Fassoulis chapter of 'Aircraft Down'. (He also records the name of Puccio Conforzi, spelt Poucho Confortzi, who accompanied 'Sonny' Fassoulis on his journey towards Anzio.) They passed the winter of 1943-4 in the hut above Vallepietra (see testimony of 2/Lt. John Caraberis). They are listed as:
David Paulette, Arizona Sonny Farsoulis, New York Remi Delouche, New Orleans Donald Roulene, Wisconsin
Bill Nelson, Virginia John ? , New York Ken Johnson, Moline
David Paulette, Arizona Sonny Farsoulis, New York Remi Delouche, New Orleans Donald Roulene, Wisconsin
Bill Nelson, Virginia John ? , New York Ken Johnson, Moline
The following testimonies described what happened to these men before, at the time of, and following the Italian Armistice of 8 September 1943
O-791362 2/Lt. John G. Caraberis
99 Bomb Group
Shot down near Modena 2 September
99 Bomb Group
Shot down near Modena 2 September
On 22 May 1967 2/Lt. John G. Caraberis wrote the following account addressed to congressman Charles Mathias in support of Count Demetriou Sarsfield Salazar who from the Vatican had helped the escapers in hiding:
DeLouche', Lt. R.T. 0-795366
Fassoulis, Lt. S.G. 0-744871
Johnson, Cpt. K.M. 0-659988
Nelson, Sgt. W. 13442656
Parlett, Lt. D.O. 0-740538
Rulien, Capt. D.W. 0-724226
On September 2, 1943 I was shot down on my 42nd mission over Bologna, Italy - I was captured in Domodossola, Italy 3 kilometers from the Swiss border - my imprisonment was in a camp near Rieti (Poggio Mirteto).
During the Italian Armistice on September 8th-9th we escaped (about 12 of us) and went into the hills around a town called Poggio Mirteto. Here we awaited the "coming" of Americans - while we were in the hills the Italian Camp Commandant (or acting Commandant) got in touch with us and tried to advise us as to what we should do. His conversation was generally prefaced with it is more prudent. We did not attempt to leave the area and tried to contact the so-called partisans. We managed to scrounge for food and were in constant danger of being caught-by the-Germans. A British Colonel (Oglivy) was with us but he took off on his own. The above listed men and I were the only ones left (Parlett was not one of us at this time) and we stayed together. The Germans sent patrols looking for us - they regularly fired sporadically into the hills. At about this time we met friendly Italians who said they were Anti-Fascist but also Pro-Soviet. They did help us with food and clothing. None of us spoke Italian - therefore, I took it upon myself to learn the language; and with my basic knowledge of Greek, I forced myself into learning the local dialect over a ten day period - this proved invaluable to all of us later.
Around September 18th, 1943 an Italian, who was wanted by the Germans, entered the picture. His name was Puccio Conforzi. Speaking excellent English, he told us that his family owned a tea plantation in Nyasaland in Africa. He provided us with clothing and food and saw to it that the local "partisans" took care of us. He lived in Rome and could have taken us there; but he felt that it was too dangerous. We lived in a cave in the vicinity of Poggio Mirteto and we were brought food by Primo Paulini, a 'Redento' and another Pro-Soviet Italian. This group supposedly went out on special Anti-German missions but felt we were not capable of joining them.
Everyone expected the Americans to come - when nothing happened there seemed to be a gradual divorce of our "partisan" friendships. Before the actual abandonment of the 'partisans' I should say that some of the local Italians informed on a kindly old farmer who was especially helpful to us - he brought us food during those 1st two weeks and risked his life in every way possible - I understand that the Germans raided his home and burned it. I don't know what happened to him and his family - he was a true friend - he even showed us how to pick and cook mushrooms and to hunt wild boar - he shot a wild boar for us and helped us cook it - he lived with us after his house was burned and was now a fugitive. Another friend was a 'Carbonierio'- a charcoal maker who taught us how to make polenta. This was done at the top of a mountain where he cut the wood in order to make charcoal.
Around October 10th, 1943 we moved further into the hills and we decided that we should leave the area and head south and attempt to cross the lines. Puccio Conforzi was the only one left with us. He probably was still in touch with the local group but we didn't see any of them except the old farmer whose house had been burned. Puccio got us food and clothing and shoes. I needed shoes badly and was given Italian riding boots - (very impractical for the Italian mountains and contributed to making me immobile in months to come. We waited until October 30th before moving south. We were provided with a guide - I don't remember his name - (Giovanni Bargellini - see Humphrey Jowett's testimony) he made arrangements for us to travel a few kilometers per day and were billeted with friendly Italians en route. We picked up Lt. Dave Parlett in Castania and 3 British escapees (possibly Bill Morris and Charlie Nicholas were two of them) in a village whose name slips my mind.
The guide took us as far as the town of Vallepietra - we did not enter the town immediately but stayed in the hunting lodge on top of a mountain overlooking the town. We were short of supplies and with no money. The guide said he would go to the Vatican and see some one - I wrote a note to Ambassador Thompson and asked him for help. Within 10 days we received a small amount of money and a letter from Ambassador Thompson which was encouraging and at the same time disheartening because we were told by the guide that further help was not possible. (Count Sarsfield Salazar of the Swiss Legation would have sent money to the men via the Rome Escape Line) We used the money to buy cornmeal and flour which saved our lives; for 2 weeks a man brought us a little meat but that stopped when the money ran out. (We also bought a little lamb from a shepherd who was taking his flock south into the warmer valleys).
Around November 1st a German deserter joined us - we didn't trust him but we didn't have any choice but to allow him to join us. We felt that we should try to get a C-46 to land in the clearing near the hunting lodge and 3 of us volunteered to try to get through the lines in order to attempt this venture – Puccio Conforzi, Sonny Fassoulis and I set out on this venture - we took off through the top of the Abruzzi Mountains - this was a mistake - we walked through snow, our feet swelled and after two days of walking in the snow and clouds we were totally lost and only got our bearings by following a stream downhill to the valley below. The people in all the towns we visited were petrified at the thought of hiding us. We were afraid of being turned in. Most of them thought we were Germans and Fascists in disguise in an attempt to find out who helped American escapees. The Italian I spoke seemed to be a Genovese dialect to the people and they didn't believe I was an American. My feet had developed an infection from the Italian boots that had shrunk and rubbed on my feet. We returned to the hunting lodge. Everyone was disheartened. Meanwhile I developed yellow jaundice and a badly infected foot that didn't heal for months.
It was decided to move from the hunting lodge and build a log cabin away from the mountain paths. Everyone worked on this except me. I did the cooking but did not eat except under forced circumstances. The log cabin was built before the snows came and around November 25th - Sonny Fassoulis and Puccio Conforzi decided to get through the lines at Anzio – they left and we didn't hear from them again.
We had gone to the village of Vallepietra a few times before the snows came and had asked people for help. We received some limited amount from the poorer people but none from the so-called "refugees" from Rome. The town was off limits to the Germans because of a typhus epidemic - but we were cautious in our visits and attempted to hide our whereabouts by giving misinformation about our log cabin - we said we were staying on Mt. Autore which was a mountain peak away from our log cabin. Mt. Autore was raided by the Germans but not the peak where we were. When the snows came we hibernated for 3 months. We lived an flour and cornmeal - melted snow for water and had nothing else in the form of food or civilized everyday necessities - soap - salt - razors - tobacco - etc.
Around March 31st, our rations were down to 2 weeks supply of flour (one meal a day) and one piece of flat unleavened bread baked in the ashes of the perpetual fire we had going. I decided to go to town and see what was going on in the world and to see if we could get some food. I asked the German deserter to lend me his shoes for 2 days - he let me have them - I only had makeshift sandals made for my infected feet. We all had Italian knapsacks and I took mine and proceeded to the village - my trip lasted 3 days - the people must've been terrified on seeing me - I had four months growth of beard and hair and a very badly infected foot. The people of Vallepietra were very good to me. The filled my knapsack with 5 loafs of bread and corn meal and flour - they didn't have anything else to give - the little old lady gave me a lamb that she was saving for her Easter meal - she told me that her son was a prisoner in Texas and felt that by helping me that someone might help her son - I deposited the 5 sacks of food with a family who had been friendly to us on a previous trip. They seemed to be trustworthy. I slept under a vineyard outside of town. The following morning I decided to do something about my foot. I contacted a doctor who sent me to a barber 1st where I got rid of my Robinson Crusoe beard and hair and was surprised at my long drawn face. The doctor put some medicinal powder on my sores which seemed to help and for his help he asked me to give him my gold and ruby ring - I did - this seemed quite a different experience from a doctor who had treated my abcessed tooth one evening while we were en route south from Poggio Mirteto - he jeopardized his life by treating my tooth because he was entertaining some known Pro-Fascists when I was brought to him by the guide whose name I never was told. The doctor in Vallepietra had the ring tested and I was later told that Italian gold was better than American gold.
About noon I started back up the mountain to the log cabin. En route I met a Fascist woman who wanted to know who I was and where I was going. I did my best to mislead her. About 4 ½ hours later - completely exhausted I reached the summit and proceeded to the cabin following my snow tracks-I was dismayed to see other tracks heading towards the hunters lodge that we had previously vacated; about 1/2 a mile further on I could no longer carry my sack and hung it on a limb and then proceeded to the log cabin. It seems that they all thought I had deserted them; I had promised to return in 2 days and had taken three - the deserter thought I had taken off with his shoes - I gave them back immediately - the others saw no food or anything else and were very badly shaken up but changed completely when I told them about the food waiting for them on the tree limb and the additional 4 sacks in the village. One thing that they were grateful about was that I managed to get some tobacco amongst the begged food that the people so generously gave me. 1 didn't smoke.
The following morning 5 of them went to the town to pick up the food that I had left in one of the houses. They returned the following night. By this time it seemed to me that the long cabin was no longer the sanctuary that it had previously been and I decided to leave the group and go out on my own, but was willing to stay with them provided we moved to other quarters. They wanted to stay - we divided the remaining rations and I told them I would stay in a shepherd's grass shack at the base of the mountain but not in the town we had learned that some other escapees were living in the hunter's lodge - it seemed as if we were all ripe for a German raid and I didn't want to be around when this happened - the snow tracks gave us away. (Actually I was told at a later date that 3 weeks later the Germans raided the log cabin and burned it down).
After leaving the rest of the men I entered the valley and wait back to asking for food again and found that individually the people had good hearts and would share any food they had. The 1st night I slept in an electric power station under the generators where the heat of water turbines kept me warm - the ozone was nauseous. I was given a raw egg by a farmer's wife and managed to get along on the meager rations. The village seemed to be a magnet for me - I couldn't stay put in the shepherd's hut. The rest of the men got the same feeling as I had and came down the mountain and we all stayed in the shepherd's hut. We stayed together until April 25th, 1944 - about this time everything was in bloom and the wanderlust got all of us and it seemed as if we were due for a German attack. The Allies were still attacking Cassino and Anzio and we felt that nothing was going to happen to free us.
Then it happened - I don't know how this so-called American found us - he claimed to be from Rochester or some town of upstate New York, and he said he was with the 0.S.S. and was parachuted back of the lines in order to help us. He gave me new British shoes and gave all of us instructions on how to reach the American lines. I was sceptical but not cautious in this matter and found myself following this man's instructions just like the rest of the sheep. He had rounded up about 100 escapees and had given all of them the same instructions. This seemed rather incredible because all we needed was one to get caught and all would've been captured. What bothered me was that our final instructions were to wade down the Rapido River between the American and German lines and that we were to be picked up by a patrol on the German side of the river. He said that we had made a crossing just above the Cassino area of the Rapido River; therefore this would be the best place to be picked up by the Americans. I didn't like this setup but he convinced us that these were orders not just instructions.
We started and I paired off with Capt. Don Rulien of Eau Claire, Winconsin. (SEE BELOW UNDER CAPTAIN KENNETH M. JOHNSON) We were the lead team of about 50 teams. This was because I spoke fairly good Italian and my job was to check the towns we were supposed to stay in; and we were supposed to set the pace and clearance for the rest. We separated and bid each other goodbye. The 1st 2 days went like clockwork as we went from checkpoint to checkpoint - we ate in a monastery the 1st night - the 2nd in a cave and were well taken care of without any problems - as we got closer to the front I became more cautious and used slightly different routes and did not go into the checkpoints without inquiring from the peasant women. About the fourth day we were supposed to go to a farm house at the bottom of a hill and from there to a crossing of the Liri River.
I asked a peasant woman whether any Germans were around - she said none except at the farm house that we were supposed to go to. This seemed like a trap - we therefore did not follow the exact instructions but deviated - we kept in the same general area in order to contact the others. Capt. Johnson and his buddy who was behind us met us and detoured as we had done and he told us that Remi De Louche had been captured in the cave the 2nd night - the Germans were waiting for all of them behind us. The four of us proceeded on our own from here on in. We crossed the Liri River by using the hand -pulled ferry - the Italians knew we were Americans but didn't give us away. Don Rulien and I had walked right through a German Rest Camp and we got away with it because I kept up a continuous conversation in Italian while he kept nodding his head. We next came across a situation in a high mountain village (possibly Arpino) whereby the Germans were all around us on a road. I managed to have a peasant woman signal me, when the coast was clear, by raising and lowering the laundry basket she had on her head.
The road we crossed was about 15 kilometers behind Cassino - we entered a scattered mountain village (possibly Fontana Liri or Santopadre) which was used as a night rest camp by the German paratroopers known as the 'Blue (Green) Devils of Cassino'. We received the hospitality of an 'American educated' Italian woman that afternoon but very wisely did not stay in her house; instead we slept in a pit outside the village homes. That night the 'Blue Devils' came into the village and shot it all up indiscriminately. We left without knowing what damage they had done. We found a farm house and slept there the following night, without incident. The following day we walked as far as we dared in daylight then we decided to sleep in the daytime and travel at night. An escaped French Moroccan had the same idea. We met him in a shepherd's hut and scared each other to death.
The 1st night we couldn't leave until twelve o'clock because a German guard posted himself right outside the hut without knowing we were inside. We finally got out in pitch dark and tripped on telephone wires that probably were used for artillery communications. We lost the Moroccan. We traveled all night and were caught in an exchange of artillery fire. We hid next to a well without knowing it. The following morning we ate a slice of bread and cheese and got water from the well by tying our shoelaces together and then lowering Rulien's shoe into the well and drinking water from it. This next evening was May 3rd and we were, according to our calculations, 12 hours away from our destination. We both were carrying some rations - it seems that Rulien had some cans of some sort that were making noise and we decided to put them inside the pouch I had made in my jacket. He didn't see them again.
We started our last night's march in early dusk, we knew we were on the front lines by the activity around us and we were afraid of mines and were very anxious to get into the Rapido River as per the so-called O.S.S. instructions. We actually stepped over sleeping German soldiers and probably weren't challenged by anyone because no one could be seen unless you were on top of them. We reached the river and put on our shoes that we had taken off since dusk. We traveled down the river - knee deep and then waist deep for hours - I led the way - it seemed as if the sun was beginning to rise. Rulien was about 200 yards behind me. I groped my way by using a cane of some sort; the sun rose - it was early morning May 4th - I was between the German and American lines - both sides were supposed to be mined - we had reached the so-called destination - the Americans were supposed to have crossed the Rapido at this point - I must've thrown caution to the wind or I was visible from the banks of the river - I heard someone yell "Halt" - I stopped I raised my hands up I looked to the right bank expecting Americans to pick me up - I was shocked to see German uniforms - 3 Germans walked up to the bank of the river - one of them shot me with a luger - the other 2 picked me up - when I was shot I yelled "Tedeschi" which means Germans in Italian. Rulien heard me and hid for 2 days in the river until he was finally picked up by an American patrol.
When the 2 Germans took me out of the river they put me into a captured jeep with a red cross - I didn't have a uniform on - the way I was dressed I should've been taken for an Italian until I was given an examination - they didn't examine me - as a matter of fact the German who shot me saluted me when the medics started to take me away. The Germans operated on me and saved my life they removed my kidney and spleen.
I have written this in detail because it is still difficult for me to piece together and evaluate as to who were the friends and who were the informers or opportunists. If after reading this account you are of the opinion that I was helped by Count Salazar please notify me so that I too can participate in assisting him somehow - since my name was not among those listed in the Congressional Record - just where did it show up?
(Letter courtesy of Lt. Caraberis' daughter Peggy. On 4 November 2016 2/Lt. Caraberis was awarded a posthumous honor.
DeLouche', Lt. R.T. 0-795366
Fassoulis, Lt. S.G. 0-744871
Johnson, Cpt. K.M. 0-659988
Nelson, Sgt. W. 13442656
Parlett, Lt. D.O. 0-740538
Rulien, Capt. D.W. 0-724226
On September 2, 1943 I was shot down on my 42nd mission over Bologna, Italy - I was captured in Domodossola, Italy 3 kilometers from the Swiss border - my imprisonment was in a camp near Rieti (Poggio Mirteto).
During the Italian Armistice on September 8th-9th we escaped (about 12 of us) and went into the hills around a town called Poggio Mirteto. Here we awaited the "coming" of Americans - while we were in the hills the Italian Camp Commandant (or acting Commandant) got in touch with us and tried to advise us as to what we should do. His conversation was generally prefaced with it is more prudent. We did not attempt to leave the area and tried to contact the so-called partisans. We managed to scrounge for food and were in constant danger of being caught-by the-Germans. A British Colonel (Oglivy) was with us but he took off on his own. The above listed men and I were the only ones left (Parlett was not one of us at this time) and we stayed together. The Germans sent patrols looking for us - they regularly fired sporadically into the hills. At about this time we met friendly Italians who said they were Anti-Fascist but also Pro-Soviet. They did help us with food and clothing. None of us spoke Italian - therefore, I took it upon myself to learn the language; and with my basic knowledge of Greek, I forced myself into learning the local dialect over a ten day period - this proved invaluable to all of us later.
Around September 18th, 1943 an Italian, who was wanted by the Germans, entered the picture. His name was Puccio Conforzi. Speaking excellent English, he told us that his family owned a tea plantation in Nyasaland in Africa. He provided us with clothing and food and saw to it that the local "partisans" took care of us. He lived in Rome and could have taken us there; but he felt that it was too dangerous. We lived in a cave in the vicinity of Poggio Mirteto and we were brought food by Primo Paulini, a 'Redento' and another Pro-Soviet Italian. This group supposedly went out on special Anti-German missions but felt we were not capable of joining them.
Everyone expected the Americans to come - when nothing happened there seemed to be a gradual divorce of our "partisan" friendships. Before the actual abandonment of the 'partisans' I should say that some of the local Italians informed on a kindly old farmer who was especially helpful to us - he brought us food during those 1st two weeks and risked his life in every way possible - I understand that the Germans raided his home and burned it. I don't know what happened to him and his family - he was a true friend - he even showed us how to pick and cook mushrooms and to hunt wild boar - he shot a wild boar for us and helped us cook it - he lived with us after his house was burned and was now a fugitive. Another friend was a 'Carbonierio'- a charcoal maker who taught us how to make polenta. This was done at the top of a mountain where he cut the wood in order to make charcoal.
Around October 10th, 1943 we moved further into the hills and we decided that we should leave the area and head south and attempt to cross the lines. Puccio Conforzi was the only one left with us. He probably was still in touch with the local group but we didn't see any of them except the old farmer whose house had been burned. Puccio got us food and clothing and shoes. I needed shoes badly and was given Italian riding boots - (very impractical for the Italian mountains and contributed to making me immobile in months to come. We waited until October 30th before moving south. We were provided with a guide - I don't remember his name - (Giovanni Bargellini - see Humphrey Jowett's testimony) he made arrangements for us to travel a few kilometers per day and were billeted with friendly Italians en route. We picked up Lt. Dave Parlett in Castania and 3 British escapees (possibly Bill Morris and Charlie Nicholas were two of them) in a village whose name slips my mind.
The guide took us as far as the town of Vallepietra - we did not enter the town immediately but stayed in the hunting lodge on top of a mountain overlooking the town. We were short of supplies and with no money. The guide said he would go to the Vatican and see some one - I wrote a note to Ambassador Thompson and asked him for help. Within 10 days we received a small amount of money and a letter from Ambassador Thompson which was encouraging and at the same time disheartening because we were told by the guide that further help was not possible. (Count Sarsfield Salazar of the Swiss Legation would have sent money to the men via the Rome Escape Line) We used the money to buy cornmeal and flour which saved our lives; for 2 weeks a man brought us a little meat but that stopped when the money ran out. (We also bought a little lamb from a shepherd who was taking his flock south into the warmer valleys).
Around November 1st a German deserter joined us - we didn't trust him but we didn't have any choice but to allow him to join us. We felt that we should try to get a C-46 to land in the clearing near the hunting lodge and 3 of us volunteered to try to get through the lines in order to attempt this venture – Puccio Conforzi, Sonny Fassoulis and I set out on this venture - we took off through the top of the Abruzzi Mountains - this was a mistake - we walked through snow, our feet swelled and after two days of walking in the snow and clouds we were totally lost and only got our bearings by following a stream downhill to the valley below. The people in all the towns we visited were petrified at the thought of hiding us. We were afraid of being turned in. Most of them thought we were Germans and Fascists in disguise in an attempt to find out who helped American escapees. The Italian I spoke seemed to be a Genovese dialect to the people and they didn't believe I was an American. My feet had developed an infection from the Italian boots that had shrunk and rubbed on my feet. We returned to the hunting lodge. Everyone was disheartened. Meanwhile I developed yellow jaundice and a badly infected foot that didn't heal for months.
It was decided to move from the hunting lodge and build a log cabin away from the mountain paths. Everyone worked on this except me. I did the cooking but did not eat except under forced circumstances. The log cabin was built before the snows came and around November 25th - Sonny Fassoulis and Puccio Conforzi decided to get through the lines at Anzio – they left and we didn't hear from them again.
We had gone to the village of Vallepietra a few times before the snows came and had asked people for help. We received some limited amount from the poorer people but none from the so-called "refugees" from Rome. The town was off limits to the Germans because of a typhus epidemic - but we were cautious in our visits and attempted to hide our whereabouts by giving misinformation about our log cabin - we said we were staying on Mt. Autore which was a mountain peak away from our log cabin. Mt. Autore was raided by the Germans but not the peak where we were. When the snows came we hibernated for 3 months. We lived an flour and cornmeal - melted snow for water and had nothing else in the form of food or civilized everyday necessities - soap - salt - razors - tobacco - etc.
Around March 31st, our rations were down to 2 weeks supply of flour (one meal a day) and one piece of flat unleavened bread baked in the ashes of the perpetual fire we had going. I decided to go to town and see what was going on in the world and to see if we could get some food. I asked the German deserter to lend me his shoes for 2 days - he let me have them - I only had makeshift sandals made for my infected feet. We all had Italian knapsacks and I took mine and proceeded to the village - my trip lasted 3 days - the people must've been terrified on seeing me - I had four months growth of beard and hair and a very badly infected foot. The people of Vallepietra were very good to me. The filled my knapsack with 5 loafs of bread and corn meal and flour - they didn't have anything else to give - the little old lady gave me a lamb that she was saving for her Easter meal - she told me that her son was a prisoner in Texas and felt that by helping me that someone might help her son - I deposited the 5 sacks of food with a family who had been friendly to us on a previous trip. They seemed to be trustworthy. I slept under a vineyard outside of town. The following morning I decided to do something about my foot. I contacted a doctor who sent me to a barber 1st where I got rid of my Robinson Crusoe beard and hair and was surprised at my long drawn face. The doctor put some medicinal powder on my sores which seemed to help and for his help he asked me to give him my gold and ruby ring - I did - this seemed quite a different experience from a doctor who had treated my abcessed tooth one evening while we were en route south from Poggio Mirteto - he jeopardized his life by treating my tooth because he was entertaining some known Pro-Fascists when I was brought to him by the guide whose name I never was told. The doctor in Vallepietra had the ring tested and I was later told that Italian gold was better than American gold.
About noon I started back up the mountain to the log cabin. En route I met a Fascist woman who wanted to know who I was and where I was going. I did my best to mislead her. About 4 ½ hours later - completely exhausted I reached the summit and proceeded to the cabin following my snow tracks-I was dismayed to see other tracks heading towards the hunters lodge that we had previously vacated; about 1/2 a mile further on I could no longer carry my sack and hung it on a limb and then proceeded to the log cabin. It seems that they all thought I had deserted them; I had promised to return in 2 days and had taken three - the deserter thought I had taken off with his shoes - I gave them back immediately - the others saw no food or anything else and were very badly shaken up but changed completely when I told them about the food waiting for them on the tree limb and the additional 4 sacks in the village. One thing that they were grateful about was that I managed to get some tobacco amongst the begged food that the people so generously gave me. 1 didn't smoke.
The following morning 5 of them went to the town to pick up the food that I had left in one of the houses. They returned the following night. By this time it seemed to me that the long cabin was no longer the sanctuary that it had previously been and I decided to leave the group and go out on my own, but was willing to stay with them provided we moved to other quarters. They wanted to stay - we divided the remaining rations and I told them I would stay in a shepherd's grass shack at the base of the mountain but not in the town we had learned that some other escapees were living in the hunter's lodge - it seemed as if we were all ripe for a German raid and I didn't want to be around when this happened - the snow tracks gave us away. (Actually I was told at a later date that 3 weeks later the Germans raided the log cabin and burned it down).
After leaving the rest of the men I entered the valley and wait back to asking for food again and found that individually the people had good hearts and would share any food they had. The 1st night I slept in an electric power station under the generators where the heat of water turbines kept me warm - the ozone was nauseous. I was given a raw egg by a farmer's wife and managed to get along on the meager rations. The village seemed to be a magnet for me - I couldn't stay put in the shepherd's hut. The rest of the men got the same feeling as I had and came down the mountain and we all stayed in the shepherd's hut. We stayed together until April 25th, 1944 - about this time everything was in bloom and the wanderlust got all of us and it seemed as if we were due for a German attack. The Allies were still attacking Cassino and Anzio and we felt that nothing was going to happen to free us.
Then it happened - I don't know how this so-called American found us - he claimed to be from Rochester or some town of upstate New York, and he said he was with the 0.S.S. and was parachuted back of the lines in order to help us. He gave me new British shoes and gave all of us instructions on how to reach the American lines. I was sceptical but not cautious in this matter and found myself following this man's instructions just like the rest of the sheep. He had rounded up about 100 escapees and had given all of them the same instructions. This seemed rather incredible because all we needed was one to get caught and all would've been captured. What bothered me was that our final instructions were to wade down the Rapido River between the American and German lines and that we were to be picked up by a patrol on the German side of the river. He said that we had made a crossing just above the Cassino area of the Rapido River; therefore this would be the best place to be picked up by the Americans. I didn't like this setup but he convinced us that these were orders not just instructions.
We started and I paired off with Capt. Don Rulien of Eau Claire, Winconsin. (SEE BELOW UNDER CAPTAIN KENNETH M. JOHNSON) We were the lead team of about 50 teams. This was because I spoke fairly good Italian and my job was to check the towns we were supposed to stay in; and we were supposed to set the pace and clearance for the rest. We separated and bid each other goodbye. The 1st 2 days went like clockwork as we went from checkpoint to checkpoint - we ate in a monastery the 1st night - the 2nd in a cave and were well taken care of without any problems - as we got closer to the front I became more cautious and used slightly different routes and did not go into the checkpoints without inquiring from the peasant women. About the fourth day we were supposed to go to a farm house at the bottom of a hill and from there to a crossing of the Liri River.
I asked a peasant woman whether any Germans were around - she said none except at the farm house that we were supposed to go to. This seemed like a trap - we therefore did not follow the exact instructions but deviated - we kept in the same general area in order to contact the others. Capt. Johnson and his buddy who was behind us met us and detoured as we had done and he told us that Remi De Louche had been captured in the cave the 2nd night - the Germans were waiting for all of them behind us. The four of us proceeded on our own from here on in. We crossed the Liri River by using the hand -pulled ferry - the Italians knew we were Americans but didn't give us away. Don Rulien and I had walked right through a German Rest Camp and we got away with it because I kept up a continuous conversation in Italian while he kept nodding his head. We next came across a situation in a high mountain village (possibly Arpino) whereby the Germans were all around us on a road. I managed to have a peasant woman signal me, when the coast was clear, by raising and lowering the laundry basket she had on her head.
The road we crossed was about 15 kilometers behind Cassino - we entered a scattered mountain village (possibly Fontana Liri or Santopadre) which was used as a night rest camp by the German paratroopers known as the 'Blue (Green) Devils of Cassino'. We received the hospitality of an 'American educated' Italian woman that afternoon but very wisely did not stay in her house; instead we slept in a pit outside the village homes. That night the 'Blue Devils' came into the village and shot it all up indiscriminately. We left without knowing what damage they had done. We found a farm house and slept there the following night, without incident. The following day we walked as far as we dared in daylight then we decided to sleep in the daytime and travel at night. An escaped French Moroccan had the same idea. We met him in a shepherd's hut and scared each other to death.
The 1st night we couldn't leave until twelve o'clock because a German guard posted himself right outside the hut without knowing we were inside. We finally got out in pitch dark and tripped on telephone wires that probably were used for artillery communications. We lost the Moroccan. We traveled all night and were caught in an exchange of artillery fire. We hid next to a well without knowing it. The following morning we ate a slice of bread and cheese and got water from the well by tying our shoelaces together and then lowering Rulien's shoe into the well and drinking water from it. This next evening was May 3rd and we were, according to our calculations, 12 hours away from our destination. We both were carrying some rations - it seems that Rulien had some cans of some sort that were making noise and we decided to put them inside the pouch I had made in my jacket. He didn't see them again.
We started our last night's march in early dusk, we knew we were on the front lines by the activity around us and we were afraid of mines and were very anxious to get into the Rapido River as per the so-called O.S.S. instructions. We actually stepped over sleeping German soldiers and probably weren't challenged by anyone because no one could be seen unless you were on top of them. We reached the river and put on our shoes that we had taken off since dusk. We traveled down the river - knee deep and then waist deep for hours - I led the way - it seemed as if the sun was beginning to rise. Rulien was about 200 yards behind me. I groped my way by using a cane of some sort; the sun rose - it was early morning May 4th - I was between the German and American lines - both sides were supposed to be mined - we had reached the so-called destination - the Americans were supposed to have crossed the Rapido at this point - I must've thrown caution to the wind or I was visible from the banks of the river - I heard someone yell "Halt" - I stopped I raised my hands up I looked to the right bank expecting Americans to pick me up - I was shocked to see German uniforms - 3 Germans walked up to the bank of the river - one of them shot me with a luger - the other 2 picked me up - when I was shot I yelled "Tedeschi" which means Germans in Italian. Rulien heard me and hid for 2 days in the river until he was finally picked up by an American patrol.
When the 2 Germans took me out of the river they put me into a captured jeep with a red cross - I didn't have a uniform on - the way I was dressed I should've been taken for an Italian until I was given an examination - they didn't examine me - as a matter of fact the German who shot me saluted me when the medics started to take me away. The Germans operated on me and saved my life they removed my kidney and spleen.
I have written this in detail because it is still difficult for me to piece together and evaluate as to who were the friends and who were the informers or opportunists. If after reading this account you are of the opinion that I was helped by Count Salazar please notify me so that I too can participate in assisting him somehow - since my name was not among those listed in the Congressional Record - just where did it show up?
(Letter courtesy of Lt. Caraberis' daughter Peggy. On 4 November 2016 2/Lt. Caraberis was awarded a posthumous honor.
2/Lt. 'Sonny' Fassoulis
excerpts from 'Aircraft Down'
excerpts from 'Aircraft Down'
The inmates busied themselves with gathering all the food and survival equipment, Red Cross packages, guns, ammunition, and explosives they could carry on their backs and on the two donkeys found at the prison. By early afternoon they were ready to travel but still had no guide. No sooner had they begun to discuss how to find their way by themselves than the commandant returned accompanied by a man who was to lead them up into the mountains.
Although the commandant urged the prisoners to leave, they decided that it would be better if they waited until night so the inhabitants of the small nearby towns would not see them going and be able to report their route to the Germans...
It was nearly midnight on September 10, 1943, when Sonny Fassoulis's evasion experience and that of his twenty comrades began. The heavily loaded men turned right out of the convent gate and began walking up the narrow, rocky road. It was reasonably level for the first half mile and the trek seemed easy, but very soon the road narrowed into a path. The climb became slower, and after an hour the evaders began to tire and the supplies on their backs seemed Lo double in weight ..The Apennine Mountains, which run length of central Italy, are characterized by their steep, rugged, rocky surfaces, vegetation that ranges from nearly barren to dense forest within a few miles, and valleys that are often several thousand feet deep, the result of the millennia of erosion. It si possible to hike up and down for days and cover only a few miles as the crow flies. as the crow flies. It was into exhausted charges. The darkness, the exhaustion of many of the climbers and the increasingly steep climb soon made it impossible to continue... When those who were able to continue on finally reached the camp, about five miles from the convent, they too were exhausted, for it had taken nearly five hours...
It was not until early afternoon that the remainder of the escapers struggled into the camp, having spent a miserable night in the open. Most had slept little because of their concern that the Germans might have been following them...
For the next few days, the airmen did little but sit around and take turns guarding the approaches to the area, and generally enjoy their freedom...
All had been quiet far over a week, and apparently the Germans were not going to be a problem, but food was beginning to become scarce and water was a concern. The guide also believed that their hiding place had become known and so he suggested they move to a new location farther up the mountain.
.. Although the new location was ideal in that it commanded a view of every trail coming up the mountain, the site was extremely rugged and there was no water available... it was over two miles to the nearest water source..that meant carrying it up the mountain every day...
This situation also brought the first argument about what to do next. Several escapers were confident that the Allies would soon take the area and that the wisest thing to do was to sit tight, survive, and wait for them. Others, Fassoulis and Caraberis included, thought they should start planning how to get farther south and try to cross the lines to the American side.
Helped by local people to procure a boat, Sonny and Lt. John Hall, RAF, rowed from the coast near Anzio across to the British-held island of Zannone.
Although the commandant urged the prisoners to leave, they decided that it would be better if they waited until night so the inhabitants of the small nearby towns would not see them going and be able to report their route to the Germans...
It was nearly midnight on September 10, 1943, when Sonny Fassoulis's evasion experience and that of his twenty comrades began. The heavily loaded men turned right out of the convent gate and began walking up the narrow, rocky road. It was reasonably level for the first half mile and the trek seemed easy, but very soon the road narrowed into a path. The climb became slower, and after an hour the evaders began to tire and the supplies on their backs seemed Lo double in weight ..The Apennine Mountains, which run length of central Italy, are characterized by their steep, rugged, rocky surfaces, vegetation that ranges from nearly barren to dense forest within a few miles, and valleys that are often several thousand feet deep, the result of the millennia of erosion. It si possible to hike up and down for days and cover only a few miles as the crow flies. as the crow flies. It was into exhausted charges. The darkness, the exhaustion of many of the climbers and the increasingly steep climb soon made it impossible to continue... When those who were able to continue on finally reached the camp, about five miles from the convent, they too were exhausted, for it had taken nearly five hours...
It was not until early afternoon that the remainder of the escapers struggled into the camp, having spent a miserable night in the open. Most had slept little because of their concern that the Germans might have been following them...
For the next few days, the airmen did little but sit around and take turns guarding the approaches to the area, and generally enjoy their freedom...
All had been quiet far over a week, and apparently the Germans were not going to be a problem, but food was beginning to become scarce and water was a concern. The guide also believed that their hiding place had become known and so he suggested they move to a new location farther up the mountain.
.. Although the new location was ideal in that it commanded a view of every trail coming up the mountain, the site was extremely rugged and there was no water available... it was over two miles to the nearest water source..that meant carrying it up the mountain every day...
This situation also brought the first argument about what to do next. Several escapers were confident that the Allies would soon take the area and that the wisest thing to do was to sit tight, survive, and wait for them. Others, Fassoulis and Caraberis included, thought they should start planning how to get farther south and try to cross the lines to the American side.
Helped by local people to procure a boat, Sonny and Lt. John Hall, RAF, rowed from the coast near Anzio across to the British-held island of Zannone.
O-795366 2/Lt. Remi T. De Louche
310 Bomb Group
Shot down on Benevento raid 27 August 1943
2/Lt. DeLouche's experiences can be read on website
http://www.davdol.org/images/LOUISIANA_JOURNAL-DECEMBER_2013-PAGES_19_20.pdf
His pilot 2/Lt. Ellis A. Rulien's successful attempt to reach Allied Lines can be read on https://camp59survivors.wordpress.com/2017/08/22/american-escapers-from-p-g-59/
http://www.davdol.org/images/LOUISIANA_JOURNAL-DECEMBER_2013-PAGES_19_20.pdf
His pilot 2/Lt. Ellis A. Rulien's successful attempt to reach Allied Lines can be read on https://camp59survivors.wordpress.com/2017/08/22/american-escapers-from-p-g-59/
Capt. Kenneth M. Johnson
'A' Flight Leader, 379 Squadron, 310 Bomb Group
Shot down Benevento August 27, 1943
'A' Flight Leader, 379 Squadron, 310 Bomb Group
Shot down Benevento August 27, 1943
Capt. Johnson left two important documents regarding what happened to him and the rest of his crew. The first was written for his unit:
BENEVENTO MARSHALLING YARDS RAID
AUGUST 27, 1943
I was pilot of a B-25 belonging to the 310 Bombardment Group, and was shot down in the vicinity of the target. After being captured, our Italian captors found it necessary to take us into the town of Benevento itself in order to transfer us to a prison camp at a point further north in Italy. Consequently I had the opportunity to actually see the effects of our Bombing. We were compelled to make three detours in order to get into the town proper because the roads in the vary near vicinity of our target were completely knocked out. The marshaling yards proper were absolutely and definitely destroyed. Train rails were split and jutted high into the air. The cables and high tension wires used by the electric trains were down and still burning. One large depot building and several smaller railway supply buildings were smashed completely as the result of remarkably well directed bombs. My bombardier, Captain Donovan W.Rulien Captain Donovan W. Rulien, was also a prisoner of war accompanying me, and his comment at the time was, I have never seen a better job of bombing'. To sum it up, the marshaling yards were completely destroyed and at the same time the town proper was untouched. So we were to start a stretch as prisoners of war in Italy, but were happy that the 310 Bombardment Group had done a perfect job of socking the enemy in spite of heavy odds against us in the way of a large number of enemy fighter planes attacks and heavy flak over the target.
The second document is his Escape and Evasion Report (held in the American Archives Washington)
Escape Report June 1944
Upon landing near Volturno source grabbed a handful of grapes and ran to a creek to orientate himself and make plans to meet the 'Goose'. An hour later an Italian Alpine troops captain Emilio (?) Dozi, Via Giglio no. 3, Florence, captured source and led him to the village of Amorosi where Rulien, Schlitzkus and Cates were already in custody. Here the Italian interpreter brought in dog tags and parts of unopened parachutes which established the deaths of T/Sgt. P. Kreuger and T/Sgt. A. Dallaire. Their bodies are interred in a cemetery near Benevento. On 29 August the P/Ws were moved to Benevento where two members of the same flight but another craft were in enemy custody: E. A. Ruppelt (Returned to Military Control) and R. T. De Louche.
On the 9 September, Captain Rignatti the camp commandant, placed W/O Oglivie R.A.F. in command. W/O Oglivie suggested that all personnel remain near the camp until information concerning Allied movements was received. On 12 September each P/W was given Red Cross parcels and two blankets, with the instructions to conceal themselves in the mountains for fifteen days, based on the rumor that the Allied forces would soon be in Rome.
4 June 1944
BENEVENTO MARSHALLING YARDS RAID
AUGUST 27, 1943
I was pilot of a B-25 belonging to the 310 Bombardment Group, and was shot down in the vicinity of the target. After being captured, our Italian captors found it necessary to take us into the town of Benevento itself in order to transfer us to a prison camp at a point further north in Italy. Consequently I had the opportunity to actually see the effects of our Bombing. We were compelled to make three detours in order to get into the town proper because the roads in the vary near vicinity of our target were completely knocked out. The marshaling yards proper were absolutely and definitely destroyed. Train rails were split and jutted high into the air. The cables and high tension wires used by the electric trains were down and still burning. One large depot building and several smaller railway supply buildings were smashed completely as the result of remarkably well directed bombs. My bombardier, Captain Donovan W.Rulien Captain Donovan W. Rulien, was also a prisoner of war accompanying me, and his comment at the time was, I have never seen a better job of bombing'. To sum it up, the marshaling yards were completely destroyed and at the same time the town proper was untouched. So we were to start a stretch as prisoners of war in Italy, but were happy that the 310 Bombardment Group had done a perfect job of socking the enemy in spite of heavy odds against us in the way of a large number of enemy fighter planes attacks and heavy flak over the target.
The second document is his Escape and Evasion Report (held in the American Archives Washington)
Escape Report June 1944
Upon landing near Volturno source grabbed a handful of grapes and ran to a creek to orientate himself and make plans to meet the 'Goose'. An hour later an Italian Alpine troops captain Emilio (?) Dozi, Via Giglio no. 3, Florence, captured source and led him to the village of Amorosi where Rulien, Schlitzkus and Cates were already in custody. Here the Italian interpreter brought in dog tags and parts of unopened parachutes which established the deaths of T/Sgt. P. Kreuger and T/Sgt. A. Dallaire. Their bodies are interred in a cemetery near Benevento. On 29 August the P/Ws were moved to Benevento where two members of the same flight but another craft were in enemy custody: E. A. Ruppelt (Returned to Military Control) and R. T. De Louche.
On the 9 September, Captain Rignatti the camp commandant, placed W/O Oglivie R.A.F. in command. W/O Oglivie suggested that all personnel remain near the camp until information concerning Allied movements was received. On 12 September each P/W was given Red Cross parcels and two blankets, with the instructions to conceal themselves in the mountains for fifteen days, based on the rumor that the Allied forces would soon be in Rome.
4 June 1944
O-728113 1/Lt. Samuel C. Schlitzkus
Eyewitness Account in the War Diary of 379 Squadron 310 Bomb Group:
Lt. Cates and I were together from August 30, 1943 until the date of his death. We lived for 3½ months in the vicinity of Avezzano, Italy before attempting to cross the front lines. On the morning of our attempt, Lt. Cates and I were inadvertently separated from each other in the darkness, consequently I was not an actual witness to his death. His death as related to me by an actual witness occurred when Lt. Cates stepped on a land mine and was killed instantly. I was captured by a patrol and held in a small collective prison in the vicinity of Alfadena, Italy. While at this enclosure a British 1/Lt. related this story from Capt. Brown. After I returned to the U.S. I contacted Capt. Brown in regard to Lt. Cates’ death and he wrote that the facts I had were correct. I reported these facts to the A.G.P. and also asked Capt. Brown to write a complete report to that office.
(Capt. Alastair Brown of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders was in the same party as Lt Cates and Capt Schlitzkus when attempting to cross the front lines.)
Lt. Cates and I were together from August 30, 1943 until the date of his death. We lived for 3½ months in the vicinity of Avezzano, Italy before attempting to cross the front lines. On the morning of our attempt, Lt. Cates and I were inadvertently separated from each other in the darkness, consequently I was not an actual witness to his death. His death as related to me by an actual witness occurred when Lt. Cates stepped on a land mine and was killed instantly. I was captured by a patrol and held in a small collective prison in the vicinity of Alfadena, Italy. While at this enclosure a British 1/Lt. related this story from Capt. Brown. After I returned to the U.S. I contacted Capt. Brown in regard to Lt. Cates’ death and he wrote that the facts I had were correct. I reported these facts to the A.G.P. and also asked Capt. Brown to write a complete report to that office.
(Capt. Alastair Brown of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders was in the same party as Lt Cates and Capt Schlitzkus when attempting to cross the front lines.)
401283 P/O Humphrey A.C. Jowett
450 Squadron Royal Australian Air Force
Shot down near Cristini, Calabria 21 August 1943
450 Squadron Royal Australian Air Force
Shot down near Cristini, Calabria 21 August 1943
This report can be found in the file relating to P/O Jowett which is held in the Australian National Archives:
P/O Jowett was a member of a formation of 12 Kittyhawk fighter bomber aircraft, airborne at 14.10 hours to bomb and strafe targets in south Italy, near Cristini. After bombing and strafing M/T (motor traffic) on the road east of Cristini P/O Jowett's aircraft was apparently hit by small arms fire. He was seen to bale out and was last seen descending in his parachute at Map Reference Italy Square (W) d. 75. the position is a very deserted area, and is a heavily wooded valley.
P/O Jowett has been reported Missing from Operations, our Signal ref. O.208 dated 21 August 1943, refer.
Date: 22/Aug/43 (J.P. BARTLE) Squadron leader, commanding, no. 45p Squadron RAAF.
P/O Jowett escaped from Poggio Mirteto with the other airmen and made his way up into the mountains. After spending some time with the family of Gervasio Leti in Roccantica he was helped by Giovanni Bargellini to set off towards Allied Lines. He wrote in 2015 that
After Bargellini guided us down south, we stopped at Vallepietra where I joined Ted Metcalfe (from the submarine Saracen) and we lived in a cave out of town and were fed by the miller. Ted and I shared a cave for 4 months at Vallepietra. In March 1944, a troop of No. 2 SAS Regiment under the leadership of Captain Henry Parker passed through the village. I asked if I could join him. He agreed! This proved to be a bad idea as on 21st of March 1944, we were ambushed and captured.
P/O Jowett (Later F/O) was sent firstly to the German Military Prison at San Leonardo, Verona, where he was recorded as being present on 9 October 1944, and then to Stalag Luft 3. On 16 May 1945 he was in the UK after having been 'Liberated by the Allied armies'.
P/O Jowett was a member of a formation of 12 Kittyhawk fighter bomber aircraft, airborne at 14.10 hours to bomb and strafe targets in south Italy, near Cristini. After bombing and strafing M/T (motor traffic) on the road east of Cristini P/O Jowett's aircraft was apparently hit by small arms fire. He was seen to bale out and was last seen descending in his parachute at Map Reference Italy Square (W) d. 75. the position is a very deserted area, and is a heavily wooded valley.
P/O Jowett has been reported Missing from Operations, our Signal ref. O.208 dated 21 August 1943, refer.
Date: 22/Aug/43 (J.P. BARTLE) Squadron leader, commanding, no. 45p Squadron RAAF.
P/O Jowett escaped from Poggio Mirteto with the other airmen and made his way up into the mountains. After spending some time with the family of Gervasio Leti in Roccantica he was helped by Giovanni Bargellini to set off towards Allied Lines. He wrote in 2015 that
After Bargellini guided us down south, we stopped at Vallepietra where I joined Ted Metcalfe (from the submarine Saracen) and we lived in a cave out of town and were fed by the miller. Ted and I shared a cave for 4 months at Vallepietra. In March 1944, a troop of No. 2 SAS Regiment under the leadership of Captain Henry Parker passed through the village. I asked if I could join him. He agreed! This proved to be a bad idea as on 21st of March 1944, we were ambushed and captured.
P/O Jowett (Later F/O) was sent firstly to the German Military Prison at San Leonardo, Verona, where he was recorded as being present on 9 October 1944, and then to Stalag Luft 3. On 16 May 1945 he was in the UK after having been 'Liberated by the Allied armies'.
O-740366 2/Lt. Richard C. Catledge
1 Fighter Group Shot down 28 August 1943 whilst escorting bombers to Aversa
1 Fighter Group Shot down 28 August 1943 whilst escorting bombers to Aversa
On August 28, 1943 Catledge’s Group of four P-38’s came under heavy attack as they approached the coast of Italy. Catledge’s aircraft was shot down by Messerschmitt 109s a couple of miles off the coast of Italy. As he set his aircraft down in the water, it skidded to the left upon impact, which Catledge said probably saved his life as tracers flashed over his right wing. After escaping the sinking plane and making it to the surface, Catledge thought how fortunate he was to be a strong swimmer. Upon surfacing, Catledge was a couple of miles from the coast and unable to see land. He remembered that just before landing in the water, he caught sight of a P-38 at tree-top level going straight into the ground. He spotted the smoke from the crash and headed in that direction. When he reached the beach, he was met by three Italian soldiers with rifles. He was now a prisoner of war.
Marched to a small Italian village, he spent the night in a dungeon cell. The next day he was moved to an Italian military base where he was interrogated, without success. From there, he was moved to a prison camp at a seaplane base in the Bay of Naples. The prison cell was a room above a fire station. Already there were six American prisoners - four P-38 pilots, a B-25 pilot and a tail gunner.
They planned an escape. At 2:00 a.m. five of the seven went out the one window by tying blankets together and tying them to a bedpost. They found a boat, paddled out 100 yards and could not start the motor. Drifting back on the current, they made landfall under a lighthouse and were greeted by 20 armed Italian soldiers. They were returned to their prison cell at the fire station and the next day all seven were taken to a real prison camp north of Rome. (Six of the seven were possibly Catledge, Deisenroth, Hyland, Rigney, Morrison and Dahl. There was no tail gunner on Capt. Johnson's list so it is impossible to say who the seventh airman was.) On September 8, Italy capitulated and they learned that Germans were on their way to take over the camp. All twenty-one prisoners in the camp went over the wall that night at midnight. (Johnson's list has only 20 in it. Other testimonies suggest that the men did not escape immediately - see Armistice page.)
For the next nine months, 2/Lt. Catledge and a buddy (most probably 2/Lt. Louis E. Curdes who was with Catledge at Fontana Liri) made their way south over the mountains of Italy, sleeping on mountain sides and in deserted huts, at one point with the help of an Italian guide, and always begging, borrowing or stealing food wherever they found it. At one point, they were invited to dinner by a friendly villager and stayed overnight. At daybreak, German soldiers entered the village. Catledge and his buddy were hidden in a 2 or 3 foot square ceiling panel when Germans entered the house. After several long hours, the family returned and Catledge and his buddy escaped once more to the mountains. During this time, Catledge learned to speak the Italian language fluently.
Eventually making it to the Front Lines, Catledge was reunited with his old Group. They requested to fly again and finish their 50 missions but were turned down. Rules of the Geneva Conventions of War required that if one escaped from prison, was free and bore arms again, that person could be executed if they were shot down again. He returned to the States. (However, O-733836 2/Lt. Louis E. Curdes DID return to duty. See acesofww2.com/USA/aces/curdes
Marched to a small Italian village, he spent the night in a dungeon cell. The next day he was moved to an Italian military base where he was interrogated, without success. From there, he was moved to a prison camp at a seaplane base in the Bay of Naples. The prison cell was a room above a fire station. Already there were six American prisoners - four P-38 pilots, a B-25 pilot and a tail gunner.
They planned an escape. At 2:00 a.m. five of the seven went out the one window by tying blankets together and tying them to a bedpost. They found a boat, paddled out 100 yards and could not start the motor. Drifting back on the current, they made landfall under a lighthouse and were greeted by 20 armed Italian soldiers. They were returned to their prison cell at the fire station and the next day all seven were taken to a real prison camp north of Rome. (Six of the seven were possibly Catledge, Deisenroth, Hyland, Rigney, Morrison and Dahl. There was no tail gunner on Capt. Johnson's list so it is impossible to say who the seventh airman was.) On September 8, Italy capitulated and they learned that Germans were on their way to take over the camp. All twenty-one prisoners in the camp went over the wall that night at midnight. (Johnson's list has only 20 in it. Other testimonies suggest that the men did not escape immediately - see Armistice page.)
For the next nine months, 2/Lt. Catledge and a buddy (most probably 2/Lt. Louis E. Curdes who was with Catledge at Fontana Liri) made their way south over the mountains of Italy, sleeping on mountain sides and in deserted huts, at one point with the help of an Italian guide, and always begging, borrowing or stealing food wherever they found it. At one point, they were invited to dinner by a friendly villager and stayed overnight. At daybreak, German soldiers entered the village. Catledge and his buddy were hidden in a 2 or 3 foot square ceiling panel when Germans entered the house. After several long hours, the family returned and Catledge and his buddy escaped once more to the mountains. During this time, Catledge learned to speak the Italian language fluently.
Eventually making it to the Front Lines, Catledge was reunited with his old Group. They requested to fly again and finish their 50 missions but were turned down. Rules of the Geneva Conventions of War required that if one escaped from prison, was free and bore arms again, that person could be executed if they were shot down again. He returned to the States. (However, O-733836 2/Lt. Louis E. Curdes DID return to duty. See acesofww2.com/USA/aces/curdes
O-740538 2/Lt. David O. Parlett
1 Fighter Group Shot down
30 August 1943 off Capri
This account is from 2/Lt. David O. Parlett's Escape and Evasion Report
I took off from my base at Mateur in Africa on the morning of 29 August, 1944 at ten o'clock. (Note that his unit, 1 Fighter Group, gove te date as 30 August.) We were escorting B-26s to the Aversa marshaling yard near Naples. I was flying as an element leader and as we crossed the Italian coast at near Nap1es my right-engine was hit by flak from batteries located near the coast. I feathered my engine and called L. Sakol, my flight leader, telling him I was returning to Africa on one engine. After calling several times and receiving no answer, I left the formation after making certain that no enemy fighters were in sight. My wing man failed to follow me down as I hit the deck. We had been flying at an altitude of 13,000 feet and as I got to 5000 feet I noticed that I had attained an air speed of 460 m.p.h. At this po1nt, tracers began to pass on either side of me . Looking back I discovered 4 Me-109s on my tail firing at me. Rea1ising I could not outrun them on one engine, I began violent evasive action hoping to get far enough out to sea to force the German shops to return because of their short range performance. By this time I am flying at an altitude of about 5 feet above the water. For a short time , evasive action on my part resulted in my not being hit in a vital spot. Suddenly however, there was a loud report and smoke filled the cockpit. A few seconds later there was a loud report and a flash of flame in the cockpit. Through the smoke I could see that my instrument panel was riddle(s)d.
My left engine then caught fire and I realized that it would be necessary to jump. I still had about 300 m.p.h. so I pulled vertical climb in order to gain some altitude for the jump. I jettisoned my canopy immediately and as I did so, I was sucked half way out of the airplane a1though I do not remember ever unfastening my safety belt. The terrific wind pressure held me in a position facing forward with the upper portion of my body out of the ship and bent backward while my legs were still in the cockpit. I finally managed to wiggle free of the cockpit as the ship lost speed for I had been climbing nearly vertically. I did not see whether went over or under the tali surfaces, but cannot understand how I avoided hitting them. I immediately pulled my rip cord and had no sooner done this then I found myself struggling in the water. I cannot remember experiencing the shock of my 'chute opening and believe that it must have opened just a moment before I hit the water.
My life belt had not been inflated nor had I released my dinghy from the back of my chute. The chute was billowed out in the water and kept pulling me under the water. I immediately tried to inflate the right side of my life belt and when that wouldn't work I inflated the left side. I finally managed to get my chute off and untangle the shroud lines from my body. Next I released my dinghy and tried to inflate it with the cylinder but my efforts were in vain. My hand bellows pump had sunk or floated away so I blew up my dinghy by mouth. After getting into it, I rested for (a) while and watched a a terrific fight between P-38s and Me-109s directly above me. I saw three German ships go into the sea and saw What I believed to be a mid-air collision between a P-38 and another ship, believed to be German.
After the fight was over I noted that I only was approximately five or six miles from the isle of Capri.I had only one small piece of 'D' ration chocolate for food and no water at all with me. My escape kit and food kit had fallen out of my flight suit pocket when it had ripped as I baled out. The chocolate had been soaked in salt water so I threw it overboard to avoid eating it. This was at about 1200 noon on the 29th of August, 1943. I began to paddle in southerly direction hoping to get as far toward Sicily as possible before I found It necessary to put into shore for food and water. At this time four Me- 109s returning from following flew very low the bombers out to sea, and seeing me, they flew very low over me and dropped a packet that landed about 500 yards from my boat. Thinking that it might be food or water, I paddled over to it and found that it was "Wassermarken" that the Germans use on the sea to mark the location of dinghies in air-sea rescue work. It leaves a brilliant yellowish stain in the water that must be visible for miles. Not wishing to be picked up I retrieved the packet and began to row very rapidly realizing that the German air-sea rescue would soon be out searching for me. At about 2.00 o'clock (l had lost my watch in the water) in the afternoon the Mess. returned escorting a Cant Z flying boat painted white and with Red Cross markings. The fighters found me and "buzzed” by time and time again endeavoring to attract the attention of the rescue ship but they were unsuccessful. Two more times that afternoon the same group searched for me but ware unsuccessful.
As night fell I threw out my sea anchor and settled for the night. My dinghy had to be blown up about every 20 minutes because it leaked in a number of places as did my life belt. The sea became very rough and I had to continually to bail water. It was very cold and I was lying in water all night. After a sleepless night I woke to find that the current had taken me to within a mile of Capri. I began to row again vigorously and after rowing until noon was once more far enough to avoid being seen from shore. This procedure continued for the following two days and nights with air-sea rescue units searching continually but never finding me . On the morning of my third day at sea I awoke to find myself again about a mile from the isle of Capri. By this time i was very weak from lack of food and the terrible heat of the day made the absence of drinking water very noticeable. In addition I had hurt my leg in some way when I had parachuted and had suffered minor burns on my neck, arms and head. The afternoon of the third day an air sea rescue plane again appeared and I decided to give them my position if possible. I had 12 red star shells in my dinghy and fired all of them, only one of which worked and was not seen. About 4 o'clock in the afternoon and Italian sailboat with three Italians in it sighted me and approached. One man stood in the bow and pointed a rifle at me. I was unable to stand so one man dove overboard and pushed my dinghy alongside the boat. The two men in the the boat pulled both myself and the dinghy aboard and we started for the isle of Capri.
INTERROGATION
When I reached the isle of Capri I was given food, water and promised medical attention as I was unable to walk, but never received any medical attention. Here I was asked by officials what type of ship I flew, where I was from and other military information. I gave them my name, rank and serial number only and told them I was unable to say anything else. This was the only place in my entire stay in enemy territory that any attempts to interrogate me took place. Threats were made at Capri when I refused to answer their questions but nothing resulted from them.
ESCAPE AIDS
My escape kit and food kit were of no value as they were lost when i jumped. they were in a zipper pocket of my flight suit and the pocked ripped on some obstacle in the cockpit when I jumped.
As has already been mentioned, 2/Lt. Parlett arrived at Fontana Liri and was reached by the Allied troops of 8 Indian Division on 28 May 1944.
I took off from my base at Mateur in Africa on the morning of 29 August, 1944 at ten o'clock. (Note that his unit, 1 Fighter Group, gove te date as 30 August.) We were escorting B-26s to the Aversa marshaling yard near Naples. I was flying as an element leader and as we crossed the Italian coast at near Nap1es my right-engine was hit by flak from batteries located near the coast. I feathered my engine and called L. Sakol, my flight leader, telling him I was returning to Africa on one engine. After calling several times and receiving no answer, I left the formation after making certain that no enemy fighters were in sight. My wing man failed to follow me down as I hit the deck. We had been flying at an altitude of 13,000 feet and as I got to 5000 feet I noticed that I had attained an air speed of 460 m.p.h. At this po1nt, tracers began to pass on either side of me . Looking back I discovered 4 Me-109s on my tail firing at me. Rea1ising I could not outrun them on one engine, I began violent evasive action hoping to get far enough out to sea to force the German shops to return because of their short range performance. By this time I am flying at an altitude of about 5 feet above the water. For a short time , evasive action on my part resulted in my not being hit in a vital spot. Suddenly however, there was a loud report and smoke filled the cockpit. A few seconds later there was a loud report and a flash of flame in the cockpit. Through the smoke I could see that my instrument panel was riddle(s)d.
My left engine then caught fire and I realized that it would be necessary to jump. I still had about 300 m.p.h. so I pulled vertical climb in order to gain some altitude for the jump. I jettisoned my canopy immediately and as I did so, I was sucked half way out of the airplane a1though I do not remember ever unfastening my safety belt. The terrific wind pressure held me in a position facing forward with the upper portion of my body out of the ship and bent backward while my legs were still in the cockpit. I finally managed to wiggle free of the cockpit as the ship lost speed for I had been climbing nearly vertically. I did not see whether went over or under the tali surfaces, but cannot understand how I avoided hitting them. I immediately pulled my rip cord and had no sooner done this then I found myself struggling in the water. I cannot remember experiencing the shock of my 'chute opening and believe that it must have opened just a moment before I hit the water.
My life belt had not been inflated nor had I released my dinghy from the back of my chute. The chute was billowed out in the water and kept pulling me under the water. I immediately tried to inflate the right side of my life belt and when that wouldn't work I inflated the left side. I finally managed to get my chute off and untangle the shroud lines from my body. Next I released my dinghy and tried to inflate it with the cylinder but my efforts were in vain. My hand bellows pump had sunk or floated away so I blew up my dinghy by mouth. After getting into it, I rested for (a) while and watched a a terrific fight between P-38s and Me-109s directly above me. I saw three German ships go into the sea and saw What I believed to be a mid-air collision between a P-38 and another ship, believed to be German.
After the fight was over I noted that I only was approximately five or six miles from the isle of Capri.I had only one small piece of 'D' ration chocolate for food and no water at all with me. My escape kit and food kit had fallen out of my flight suit pocket when it had ripped as I baled out. The chocolate had been soaked in salt water so I threw it overboard to avoid eating it. This was at about 1200 noon on the 29th of August, 1943. I began to paddle in southerly direction hoping to get as far toward Sicily as possible before I found It necessary to put into shore for food and water. At this time four Me- 109s returning from following flew very low the bombers out to sea, and seeing me, they flew very low over me and dropped a packet that landed about 500 yards from my boat. Thinking that it might be food or water, I paddled over to it and found that it was "Wassermarken" that the Germans use on the sea to mark the location of dinghies in air-sea rescue work. It leaves a brilliant yellowish stain in the water that must be visible for miles. Not wishing to be picked up I retrieved the packet and began to row very rapidly realizing that the German air-sea rescue would soon be out searching for me. At about 2.00 o'clock (l had lost my watch in the water) in the afternoon the Mess. returned escorting a Cant Z flying boat painted white and with Red Cross markings. The fighters found me and "buzzed” by time and time again endeavoring to attract the attention of the rescue ship but they were unsuccessful. Two more times that afternoon the same group searched for me but ware unsuccessful.
As night fell I threw out my sea anchor and settled for the night. My dinghy had to be blown up about every 20 minutes because it leaked in a number of places as did my life belt. The sea became very rough and I had to continually to bail water. It was very cold and I was lying in water all night. After a sleepless night I woke to find that the current had taken me to within a mile of Capri. I began to row again vigorously and after rowing until noon was once more far enough to avoid being seen from shore. This procedure continued for the following two days and nights with air-sea rescue units searching continually but never finding me . On the morning of my third day at sea I awoke to find myself again about a mile from the isle of Capri. By this time i was very weak from lack of food and the terrible heat of the day made the absence of drinking water very noticeable. In addition I had hurt my leg in some way when I had parachuted and had suffered minor burns on my neck, arms and head. The afternoon of the third day an air sea rescue plane again appeared and I decided to give them my position if possible. I had 12 red star shells in my dinghy and fired all of them, only one of which worked and was not seen. About 4 o'clock in the afternoon and Italian sailboat with three Italians in it sighted me and approached. One man stood in the bow and pointed a rifle at me. I was unable to stand so one man dove overboard and pushed my dinghy alongside the boat. The two men in the the boat pulled both myself and the dinghy aboard and we started for the isle of Capri.
INTERROGATION
When I reached the isle of Capri I was given food, water and promised medical attention as I was unable to walk, but never received any medical attention. Here I was asked by officials what type of ship I flew, where I was from and other military information. I gave them my name, rank and serial number only and told them I was unable to say anything else. This was the only place in my entire stay in enemy territory that any attempts to interrogate me took place. Threats were made at Capri when I refused to answer their questions but nothing resulted from them.
ESCAPE AIDS
My escape kit and food kit were of no value as they were lost when i jumped. they were in a zipper pocket of my flight suit and the pocked ripped on some obstacle in the cockpit when I jumped.
As has already been mentioned, 2/Lt. Parlett arrived at Fontana Liri and was reached by the Allied troops of 8 Indian Division on 28 May 1944.
O-729818 2/Lt Eldon H. Dahl
99 Bomb Group
Shot down whilst returning from a bombing raid near Foggia 25 August 1943
99 Bomb Group
Shot down whilst returning from a bombing raid near Foggia 25 August 1943
2/Lt. Dahl was returning from a bombing raid near Foggia, Italy on August 25, 1943. Parachuting from his flaming B-17 bomber, which was riddled with bullets from German fighter planes, he landed near a small Italian village. His parachute had landed him safely in a forest only to be captured by the Italians.
(From Poggio Mirteto) Eldon managed to escape into the mountains north of Rome with a group of other Allied prisoners. He became separated from the others and wandered alone on foot through mountains and villages...For two months Eldon traveled alone for more than two hundred miles on foot before his final breakthrough of the front lines to return to the American zone near Cassino on November 13, 1943. Two weeks later he returned to the United States.
Adapted from: http://www.pattimaguirearmstrong.com/2012/09/little-girl-in-white-by-doris-fischer.html
Janet Kinrade Dethick November 2017
(From Poggio Mirteto) Eldon managed to escape into the mountains north of Rome with a group of other Allied prisoners. He became separated from the others and wandered alone on foot through mountains and villages...For two months Eldon traveled alone for more than two hundred miles on foot before his final breakthrough of the front lines to return to the American zone near Cassino on November 13, 1943. Two weeks later he returned to the United States.
Adapted from: http://www.pattimaguirearmstrong.com/2012/09/little-girl-in-white-by-doris-fischer.html
Janet Kinrade Dethick November 2017