After the Great Escape

Much has been written about the Great Escape: what occurred on the night; what happened to those involved; and the commitment to obtaining ‘exemplary justice’. 

Artist: Ley Kenyon, published in Paul Brickhill and Conrad Norton: Escape to Danger (Faber and  Faber, London,  1954). 

 This post, however, focuses on how the airmen’s kriegie friends and Australian families responded to their deaths.

Courtesy Chris Armold, MSgt, USAF (Ret). Taken in March 2017.

Alan Righetti, who had been one of the many ‘stooges’ or lookouts over the previous few months, remembered hearing the shots fired after the discovery of the break out. It ‘was pandemonium’, he recalled, as the Germans tore the North Compound apart. When things quietened down, the airmen ‘were bitterly disappointed that we hadn’t got at least 200 out’. But, Righetti added, they were, ‘at the same time, very proud of the fact that we had the whole of the area and the German Army rushing all over the place looking for our fellas’.

Alan Righetti, courtesy of Alan Righetti

Days later, when the names of the dead were announced, Righetti recollected that ‘we were shocked’. A memorial parade was held and, recalled Justin O’Byrne, the men ‘went into mourning’. ‘Every prisoner wore a black diamond of mourning on his sleeve for the remainder of our term in prison’, including on Anzac Day ten days later, when photos were taken of the men wearing their black patches.

Justin O’Byrne, courtesy of Anne O’Byrne

Courtesy Andrew JB Simpson  NSW POWs North compound Anzac Day, 1944 

Just as many British Great War memorials had been voluntarily built by families and communities to provide a focus for their grief, Stalag Luft III’s air force ‘family’ in North Compound decided to erect a memorial using stone provided by the Germans. Originally referred to by the prisoners as ‘The Vault’ (pertaining to its crypt-like purpose of holding the ashes of the dead), the prisoners’ memorial resembled an altar. 

From Walton and Eberhardt, From Liberation to Interrogation. A Photographic Journey. Page 418.

In conceiving this design, prominent Australian-born architect and theatrical designer Wylton Todd, who had had a thriving architecture business in London before the war, seems to have been inspired by the recently deceased Sir Edwin Lutyen’s altar-like Stone of Remembrance. (The Stone became the centrepiece of the Imperial War Graves Commission’s most significant cemeteries.)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stone_of_Remembrance

 Like Lutyen’s iconic design, the prisoners’ memorial evokes heroic sacrifice in warfare, as do many British memorials as well as significant Australian memorials such as Melbourne’s Shrine of Remembrance and Sydney’s Anzac Memorial.

Shrine of Remembrance, author’s photo.

The airmen’s names are engraved on three granite tablets reminiscent of Great War honour rolls. Underneath is the inscription, ‘In memory of the officers who gave their lives. Sagan March 1944’. 

SLIII memorial. From the Casualty Section, Dept of Air, March 1947 via Air Ministry London, provided to them by His Majesty’s Air Attache at Warsaw. Courtesy of the Preen Family.

The simple wooden cross atop the nearby cairn (which appears to be a later addition) evokes the crosses which marked the graves of the First World War servicemen who died overseas, before the Imperial War Grave Commission replaced them with stone headstones.

SLIII memorial. From Casualty Section, Dept of Air, March 1947 via Air Ministry London, provided to them by His Majesty’s Air Attache at Warsaw. Courtesy of the Preen Family.

Courtesy Chris Armold, MSgt, USAF (Ret). Taken in March 2017.

Close up of the cairn plaque, Sagan, Poland, September 1998.  Courtesy of Drew Gordon. 

Todd’s design included an eagle, which was mounted below the inscription. Particularly pertinent, the spread-winged eagle is a key symbol for airmen, representing both the ‘brotherhood of the air’ and the insignia—‘wings’—which declare an airmen’s aviation credentials. 

Reg Kierath’s RAAF Wings. Courtesy of Peter Kierath.

 Arthur Schrock, 1944, in Earle M Nelson: If Winter Comes.

This drawing of the memorial, by Flight Lieutenant Grenfell Godden (a South African in Stalag Luft III who was killed in a flying accident on 23 November 1945), was sent to Mildred Williams, the mother of John Williams, one of the five Australians killed in the Great Escape reprisals. It was published in the Sydney Morning Herald, 25 April 1945. Courtesy of the Preen Family.

AWM ART34781.022. Albert Comber, drawing of the Monument to those 50 officers who were shot after the break from Stalag Luft III, 1945. https://www.awm.gov.au/collection/C168955?image=1

SLIII memorial. From the Casualty Section, Dept of Air, March 1947 via Air Ministry London, provided to them by His Majesty’s Air Attache at Warsaw. Courtesy of the Preen Family.

While visible in Bert Comber’s sketch and other early drawings and photographs, and repeated in the commemorative plaque mounted on the stone cairn erected in front of the memorial, the eagle is no longer extant.

Recent photo of the memorial, with modern dedication, c 2015. Courtesy of Geoff Swallow

The memorial was located in the nearby cemetery where other prisoners had been buried. There, fifty urns containing the dead men’s ashes were interred on 4 December 1944. In accordance with RAF mourning custom, a service funeral was held. Thirty prisoners along with members of the Swiss Legation attended. Wreathes were laid and the Roman Catholic and Protestant chaplains said prayers and blessed the monument and ashes.

From the Casualty Section, Dept of Air, March 1947 via Air Ministry London, provided to them by His Majesty’s Air Attache at Warsaw. Courtesy of the Preen Family.

Some of the airmen recorded details of the memorial service in their wartime log books. Some marked the pages, drawings, photos and nominal rolls with a cross, the traditional symbol denoting the dead. 

Lifted from Brickhill and Norton: Escape to Danger.

Before he returned to Australia, Comber produced for the Australian War Memorial’s collection three pen, ink and wash drawings of the memorial’s construction.

AWM ART34781.024 Albert Comber, The monument in the early stages of construction, 1945. https://www.awm.gov.au/collection/C168957?image=1

Six months earlier, on 20 June 1944, a memorial service for family and friends of the Fifty had been conducted at the Church of St Martin-in-the-Fields, London. As the men had been killed in the course of carrying out their service duty they were accorded full air force honours. Australian-based families could not attend and so either British family members or others represented them. 

Author’s collection

Squadron Leader William Melville, the liaison for prisoner of war matters at RAAF Overseas Headquarters, considered it ‘a very great honour and privilege’ to represent Reg Kierath’s mother, Ada. After the ceremony, Melville wrote to her as he wanted her ‘to know something of the very magnificent tribute that was paid to your son and the others who died with him’. He told her about the service:

Sir Archibald Sinclair—Secretary of State for Air—Sir Charles Portal, Chief of Air Staff and our Air Officer Commanding, Air Vice-Marshal Wrigley, were but three of the many Air Force representatives who came to pay their tribute and Mr Bruce our Australian High Commissioner was also there. After the first hymn the Vicar of St Martins read the first part of the service and the psalm, and Sir Charles Portal the lesson. Then came the Address by the Chaplain-in-Chief of the Royal Air Force in which he paid tribute to the memory of those whose courage and high faith was an inspiration to us all. As we stood, after the recession, the Blessing, crystal clear came the notes of the Last Post—the most honoured tribute to the serving member and one which is paid to him alone. For a moment there was silence—and then in the distance, the roll of a drum and the awakening call ‘Reveille’. It seems so singularly appropriate, for to all of us in our hearts and memory they will live through their example of courage and steadfastness.

During the service, the RAF chaplain-in-chief had stated that ‘Their sacrifice was touched by the finger of God’. Melville too recognised that sacrifice. He explained to Ada that Reg, ‘and the others, have become my very real friends and I cannot express how much the sacrifice which they have made has meant to me personally’.

Reg Kierath. Courtesy of Peter Kierath

Others acknowledged the deaths in a similar way. Families placed ‘in memoriam’ notices in newspapers. Friends send condolence letters. 

The Argus, 25 March 1947

Unattributed clipping, courtesy of Preen Family.

Group Captain Thomas White, former prisoner of the Ottomans and commanding officer at 1 Initial Training School, Somers where Catanach and Albert Hake had attended believed that the young man’s ‘name and memory will long endure as among the noblest of those who gave their all’.

Those who died after the Great Escape were not forgotten. Their friends attended remembrance services. Winifred Munt, Jimmy Catanach’s childhood nanny, known to him as ‘Da’, was a member of the Australian contingent to the Service of Remembrance at St Clement Danes (the Central Church of the Royal Air Force) on 22 March 1969. Bill Fordyce, who was in the tunnel when the escape was discovered, attended the 50th anniversary service on 25 March 1994. 

Bill Fordyce, courtesy of Lily Fordyce

 Courtesy of Lily Fordyce

Courtesy of Ian Fraser

 Reg Giddey, who regarded Albert Hake as ‘one of nature’s gentlemen’, placed a tribute on his former friend’s grave during 50th anniversary commemorations at Posnan, Poland. 

Reg Giddey. Courtesy of the Preen Family

Their families made pilgrimages to Sagan and wore their service medals.

  

The Preen Family’s pilgrimage to Stalag Luft III, 2013. Courtesy of Max Preen.

The Search for the Compass Maker, Albert Hake 2013: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GaFwU7FI-cU 

Peter Kierath, nephew of Reg Kierath, retraced his uncle’s journey. Photo from The Daily Liberal, Dubbo. http://www.dailyliberal.com.au/story/3538949/retracing-family-steps-at-war-photos/

Albert Hake’s great niece and nephew, wearing medals. Anzac Day, about 1997. Courtesy Jude Preen. 

 That continuing sympathy of family and friends, along with the dedicated commemoration, brought comfort to those who grieved. So too did the knowledge that the deaths of the Fifty had been construed as sacrifices for the cause, as extensions of their air force service. As their ‘Duty Nobly Done’.

Memorial card, sent by Noela Hake to Dick Wheeler. Dick Wheeler Archive. Courtesy of  Tony Wheeler

My thanks to all the families who have shared their photos and records with me.

I have written a number of other blog pieces on aspects of the Great Escape from an Australian perspective:

https://australiansinsliii.blogspot.com.au/2016/05/43-years-albert-hake-australian-in.html

https://australiansinsliii.blogspot.com.au/2017/03/albert-hake-and-paul-royle-australians.html

https://australiansinsliii.blogspot.com.au/2016/11/how-deeply-we-feel-his-loss-condolences.html

http://australiansinsliii.blogspot.com.au/2017/04/ever-remembered-james-catanach-anzac.html

http://australiansinsliii.blogspot.com.au/2015/02/great-escaper-thomas-barker-leigh.html

http://australiansinsliii.blogspot.com.au/2015/02/70th-anniversary-of-great-escape.html

Vale Alan Righetti. Former Kriegie from Stalag Luft III

As Australia commemorated the 70th anniversary of the end of Second World War, the Australian War Memorial’s director, Brendan Nelson stated that the generation thus honoured, and who are now leaving us, was the greatest this nation has produced. ‘Born in the aftermath of the war that was, growing up through the Great Depression and coming to adulthood under the shadows of the war that was coming, they mobilised to defend our nation, its values and vital interests.’

One of those great Australian men who has just left us, was my long distance friend, Alan Righetti, former pilot from 3 Squadron RAAF. Alan and I never met but we enjoyed a long email friendship lasting just on 12 years, which began with a letter from a very green writer asking if he had any stories to share about Clive Caldwell who he had known after the war.

 

 

Alan Righetti, 3 Squadron RAAF. Courtesy of Alan Righetti. I often referred to Alan as a 'cheeky chappy', because that is how he comes across in this photo, my favourite one of him.

Alan had some successes in North African skies but, after baling out of a burning aircraft, eventually found himself a prisoner of Italy, and later in Germany, in Stalag Luft III. (His journey from flaming Kittyhawk to captivity was not easy. ‘I went through HELL!!’)

 

Alan Righetti and a 'group of my flying mates--I am in the middle (4th left). sitting in front of the tall chap standing'. Courtesy of Alan Righetti. Courtesy of Alan Righetti

Alan was one of the many quiet and unsung heroes of Stalag Luft III. He took his place on the stooge roster but was not involved in any other escape activity. ‘My stooge involvement took no more than an hour each day’ and so he had to busy himself some other way. With an eye to the future, he availed himself of the educational facilities on offer. ‘A senior lecturer from Edinburgh University (Fleet Air Arm RN) taught me Organic Chemistry, and I passed that subject at Melbourne University on return, saving a year of lectures. I learned enough Russian to identify myself, as I was sure the advancing Russian Army would liberate us before we were marched out. Access to books was very good, and passed around from hut to hut.’

Although he wasn’t a dedicated escape artist, Alan’s name was in the ‘hat’ for one of the ‘“lucky” tickets to escape’ in the Great Escape. ‘Little X, the escape chap came in to our room and he said, “George. George Wiley”, my little Canadian friend, “you got a ticket. Alan, you missed out.” Alan ‘was so disappointed’ but hid his feelings, and congratulated George. ‘Oh you lucky devil!’

George, however, as Alan recalled, did not ‘know whether I’m lucky or not.’ Years later, Alan could still see George. ‘He was about 21, [a] fair haired, blue-eyed kid’ and the room was all behind their young friend. ‘We then started making arrangements to get him all set up to go, gave him our collection of fudge and a bit of extra chocolate.’ But George had misgivings, which he only confided to Alan. ‘Look Al, I know I won't get far', Alan remembered of his conversation with George. 'I can’t speak German or anything like that and we’re miles to go before we get anywhere but I’ve just got a few bad vibes about it. If anything did happen would you see that my folks get, there’s only my mother and sister, these few photographs and things back.’

On the face of it, it was a strange request for George to make of Alan. There were other Canadians in the hut who could more easily have returned George's precious personal things. They were certainly closer geographically speaking than Alan, the Australian. ‘But we were good friends’. Like Alan, George had flown in the desert (with 112 Squadron). ‘Maybe he sort of felt a bit embarrassed about saying that he had bad vibes because everybody was so envious of anybody who had got a ticket to escape.’ But perhaps too, George saw something special in Alan. The sort of integrity that, no matter how difficult, would ensure that he would honour a pledge to a friend.

Alan remembered clearly the night of the break out. It ‘was pandemonium’ when the shots of discovery were fired. All traces of the escape were covered up or destroyed and the Germans rampaged through the camp looking for signs of a tunnel. When things quietened down, Alan recalled that ‘we were bitterly disappointed that we hadn’t got at least 200 out but at the same time, very proud of the fact that we had the whole of the area and the German Army rushing all over the place looking for our fellas.’

Like his fellows, Alan grieved for the loss of friends such as Jimmy Catanach, with whom he had developed a good friendship. 'I did not know Jimmy Catanach when I first arrived in Luft III, but not long before the Escape, we saw a lot of each other, and shared many common interests. I was very envious of his “good luck” when his name was drawn from the hat to go out through the tunnel, and my name was not!! My parents knew his when we lived in Melbourne. Jimmy was younger than I, so we did not meet in sport when he was at Geelong Grammar and I was at Melbourne Grammar. A very, very nice bloke.’ 

Alan also remembered young George Wiley and his promise. He probably wondered at the time how he could ever honour it. But he kept it in his heart. Later, when they shared their memories of their former room mate, Alan did not tell any of George’s Canadian friends of his charge; he didn’t try to fob it off to those who lived in towns quite close to George. No, Alan was too honourable. A promise made was a promise kept.

Life changed in North Compound after the Escape. ‘Generally speaking’, Alan recalled, the great desire to escape had subsided amongst those of us involved. I, personally would not have walked out if they had left the gates open. The Germans put up notices saying “To escape is no longer a sport. If caught you will be shot” or words to that effect.’

Within months, Alan did leave Stalag Luft III but through open gates: he, along with thousands of other men, trudged across Germany on the ‘long march’. It was harrowing, and Alan rarely spoke of it to me. He shared some pictures of it, one drawn by his friend Bert Comber, many of whose drawings are now in the Australian War Memorial, and another by Hartnell-Beavis, an Englishman in the RAF, who did a sketch in his diary. I can see from them what Alan preferred to forget: the exhaustion, the dispirited former airmen, trekking in long lines, pulling along laden sleds or resting along the roadside, bundles on backs. One man head down, sitting propped up against the back of a Kriegie mate, tin mug by a hand too heavy to lift to lips, another trying to haul himself upright with the help of a walking cane.

Alan survived the march and ended the war on a large farm near Lubeck. Coincidentally, I had emailed him round about the time of the anniversary of his liberation. ‘Tomorrow 2nd May, is the 69th anniversary of the great day we were released … by the 2nd British Army Commandos, and next day set off for Paris in a “liberated Mercedes”’. Luckily, Alan never had to try out his Russian!

Before he knew it, he was in England. ‘As I got off the Lancaster at Wing Aerodrome (north of London), a WAAF asked “Can I help you with your kitbag Sir?” It was the first kind word I had heard in two and a quarter years, and I almost burst into tears.’ But kindness was quickly replaced by practicalities. ‘Then we were deloused and sent off to barracks to brush up for the VE celebrations in London!’ and later a long detour home.

A while ago, I wrote an essay about chivalry in wartime. Alan operated in the desert and it was well known that Allied parachutists would be shot down by the enemy if given half a chance. Alan came out of that theatre believing that chivalry ‘is hard to find today, and very difficult to find then’. And so, despite encountering few instances of it himself, Alan remembered his promise to George Wiley. Before he was repatriated home, he took a detour to America and Canada.

Alan was a modest chap and did not tell the grieving Wileys that he had driven up from Washington DC especially to visit them with George’s effects, and to tell them something of their son’s experiences in camp, and the last moments of imprisonment among friends. Carefully, with great honour to his friend, Alan handed over George’s precious watch and photos to his mother and sister, still stunned with grief to, at the time, to appreciate the intimate, personal chivalry of that fulfilled promise to George.

Alan, however, saw nothing chivalrous about it. ‘You do indeed flatter me’. But I don’t. Alan was one of those from the greatest generation who believed in honouring promises, remembering fallen comrades, and, decades later, providing long distance friendship, encouragement, and enthusiastic support of ‘young’ writers.

Vale Alan Righetti. 15 August 2015. A true friend.

 

Alan Righetti ‘In the middle after three of us had each shot down an enemy aircraft’. Courtesy of Alan Righetti

 There is so much more to Alan’s story. You can read more at http://www.3squadron.org.au/subpages/AAWRighetti.htm including about the day celebrated in the above photo.