This was my reply to a story on skydiving in the McGill News, Fall 2008 issue. Hope you have a French Dictionary handy.
Dear Sir:
I have just read the story by Bruce Gravel in the Fall 2008 issue where he describes his first attempt at skydiving. Had I known there was such a school in the McGill area, when I was a student, I might have foregone some of my other studies. I mean, I already knew what Skydiving entailed!
Bruce's attempt was fairly normal, much more so than mine, and even the 'merde' that he found on landing, I encountered all the way down. A soft cow would have been welcome, and, of course, supplied me with edibles for my three days of hungry walking after the landing.
The closest thing I had to an Instructor was the Pilot, who kept yelling "Get the Hell out". The next thing that convinced me to jump was a fire that was steadily encroaching on my part of the plane. I wish I had had decisions made that easy when I was in the Scholastic or business World.
But the 'merde' was awaiting me as I slid through the door of the escape hatch (no ledge or wing strut on these planes) when I slid too far, and hit my jaw on the edge. My parachute did open normally, as did Bruce's, but no sooner had it ballooned, than some other ruddy plane tried to hit it. Don't forget, this was in the middle of the night, so neither I, nor the pilot of the other plane, could see one another. Perhaps this was for the best, since it was odds on the plane who had just shot us down, and he might try to finish the job.
After several minutes of violent swaying from the near miss, we (the parachute and I) calmed down, just in time to meet the next issue of 'merde'. One of the other planes. that had come with us, dropped his bombs onto a waiting train below. By some miracle, this train just happened to be filled with ammunition of all sorts. Of course the sky was filled with all sorts of 'merde' composed of exploded, and unexploded, material that was originally meant to kill our troops on D-Day. Instead, it was trying to kill me! And the other members of our plane who had bailed out as well.
I'm still not certain if we should be credited with being part of the breaking of the German defences, because of one less ammunition train arriving at it's destination. All I am really sure of, these many years later, is that the Luftwaffe and the German Armed Forces were responsible for a lot of 'merde'. What they were probably short of was cows!
The first German Soldier I met during my walk was on an expedition to find milk and eggs, and probably too concentrated to notice that I was still wearing my uniform.
Thanks a lot John; I presume you know what 'Merde' is, being in an all English Australia. It just seemed a little more proper to use the French term than the English one.
If the website appreciates postings such as this one, it has been my passtime since retirement; writing. I have one currently in "Honour", the journal of the Military Museums of Calgary, titled "The Long Road Home". Be glad to post it if you want it.
All through that night, the fog had been so thick you could almost cut it. As I walked along the road, mostly by sense, I could hardly see the trees on both sides. I just hoped that morning would see me past the edge of this forest. It was my third night of walking after bailing out of our plane, and I was tired and hungry.
Sure enough, the early morning light began to filter through the mist, as dawn grew near, and suddenly the trees became fewer. I began to make out a few other objects, and Glory Be (I thought), one of them was a haystack. It was time to sack out, so I would be ready for another night of walking back to England.
But I was not to make England in the following days; a few hours of sleep on that stack saw me face to face with the guy who owned it. After a couple of words in my elementary French, he seemed convinced I was worth taking a chance on. By the dark of that day, I was invited into his house, and that was my introduction to the Lines.
The farmer had connections to the local Resistance group, the Maquis; his son was a member. They ran the Escape Line which offered shelter for lost Airmen in the region, and then the transfer to other escape lines for escort back to England. It was to have been my Escape Line home, but unfortunately, the landings on D-Day put a stop to it.
Do the names OLeary, Comete, or Shelburne mean anything to the reader? These are a few of the trails that were created to lead lost Soldiers and Airmen back to England, and into action again. They also led European Civilians who wanted to get into the fight, and even a few Sailors who found themselves on the wrong side of the Channel.
The first line was the Pat OLeary line which brought them from Belgium to Marseilles, and then evacuated them from France via the Pyrenees Mountains to Spain, or to Gibraltar by ship. Started by Albert Guerisse, a Belgian Doctor, he was renamed Patrick OLeary to maintain secrecy. The line had several other notable members including Nancy Wake a Journalist from Australia, and Georges Rodocanachi, a Marseilles Doctor who sheltered escapers. The line also had a few Traitors, such as Harold Cole, a British Army deserter, who became a double agent. The OLeary Line is thought to have rescued over 600 lost Servicemen and Civilians.
The next line is the Comete Line which led lost Soldiers and Airmen from Belgium through France to Paris, and then on to the Pyrenees and the Basque Country, where experienced smugglers would lead them across the Spanish border. This was the most successful of the escape lines, but it did result in many of the leaders, and workers, being captured during its life. A young Lady, Dedee de Jongh, started the line in 1941, and led many to Spain, and freedom. In early 1943, Dedee was arrested by the Germans, and her Father, Frederic, took over for six months before he was arrested as well. He was executed, but Dedee survived the war.
Other notable persons involved in the Comete Line was Elvire de Greef, known as Tante Go, and who ran a safe house, and Florentino Goicoechea, a Basque smuggler, who led the Evaders across the Pyrenees. They were successful in escorting as many as 800 Escapers and Evaders to freedom. I would have been escorted on this line had not D-Day occurred before I could get started. However, my Pilot, Lt. Chuck Thomas, of the U.S.A., and Mid-upper Gunner, Sgt. Arnold Greene, of Woodstock, Ontario, were successful in crossing the mountains, by the Comete Line, and getting home before I was out of France.
The third Major line was the Shelburne, which was a successor to the ill fated Oaktree Line. Organized around the end of 1943 by two Canadian Soldiers, Raymond Labrosse, himself an Escaper from Dieppe, and Lucien Dumais. It was organized to rescue the many Flyers who were landing in the Brittany region. They were escorted to the village of Plouha on the northern French coast. From the nearby Bonaparte beach, they would be picked up by the Royal Navy in Motor Torpedo Boats, and taken to Dartmouth, England. Many of the escapers were also escorted over the Pyrenees Mountains. 189 went this way and 118 by sea, for a total of 307. These were mostly Allied Airmen but also some French Civilians and a few Sailors.
The above listing is for only three of the lines that had tried to escort Allied Servicemen out of occupied Europe. There was some help in Italy, that had an Irish Priest from the Vatican who hid Escapers and Evaders there, and in some of the surrounding farms, but there was little or no organized line to get them out of the country. Asia had some Evaders, but it was mostly a case of individual effort rather than organized resistance lines.
The people who organized, and ran, the escape lines paid a tremendous price for our freedom. There were always Traitors and Collaborators ready to betray them. The Germans even trained many young German Males to speak good English, dress like Allied Airmen, and to try to penetrate the Escape lines. I was taken prisoner by the American Military Police because they thought I might be one of these, having no identification. Fortunately I was able to escape while passing through Paris..
The estimate is that, for every Serviceman who was escorted to freedom by these lines, 4 members of the lines paid with their lives. Those who ran the Escape lines, and saw so many of our Comrades safely out of occupied Europe, hopefully to serve again, should never be forgotten.
There are many books and websites concerned with the subject of Escape Lines, escape and evasion. For the above I referred to the book Silent Heroes by Sherri Green Ottis, The White Mouse by Nancy Wake, The Escape Lines Memorial Society website, and my own memory. The society participates with a museum on the subject at Eden Camp, Malton, North Yorkshire, England. The pictures below are by the kind permission of the Escape Lines Memorial Society.
