Biographies & Memoirs

39

The Journey Home

Monday 18 September 1944

The Dakota landed at an airfield outside Bari as dawn approached. Medical staff were waiting to unload the wounded and rush them to the hospital, but otherwise there was no one else to meet the escapees: once the ambulances were gone, they were alone apart from ground crew.1 Ralph approached one of them to ask if anyone was coming.

‘Haven’t a bleeding clue, mate.’

They headed for the nearest compound and found a half-asleep duty sergeant, who woke a flying officer. He made some calls, leading to more calls, then more. While this military pantomime played out, Griff popped his head back out of the door. ‘Two more planes have landed,’ he announced. The transport hub for trucks wasn’t far off, and by the time the fourth and fifth planes had landed there were lorries and even sandwiches to hand.

Leslie and Griff stayed behind to make sure the last plane arrived, and Ralph hopped up into the cab of one of the trucks. The convoy’s sergeant insisted Ralph regale them with tales from behind the lines.

‘Jesus, man!’ said the Sergeant, when Ralph was done. ‘You must have been desperate to get home.’2

The drive was short: the escapees were deposited in an empty barracks belonging to the British 8th Army. Ralph watched with pride as truckloads of passengers filtered in: his railway crew, the farm lads, the Frenchmen, the airman Melrose, Heslop and his escapees. They had made it. They were free.

But soon Leslie and Griffin turned up with bad tidings. The sixth plane had not arrived; it had suffered an engine failure on the ground. The stricken Dakota had been camouflaged, and the remaining escapees had returned to Semič. It could have been worse; better an engine failure on the ground than in the air. Still, the absence of twenty of their number weighed heavy as Ralph fell asleep.

‘Wakey, wakey! Rise and shine!’ an English lance corporal was shouting. ‘Time for a wash-up and a brush-up!’ It was strange to be returned to a proper barracks after so many years. Hot showers compensated for any culture shock. Oh, what a glorious feeling!

The first day outside Nazi territory went in a flash. Each man received a medical and was cautioned against excessive eating or drinking after the privations of the escape. An officer informed Leslie and Ralph that an engineer was being dropped to repair the last plane. The next day, new clothing and mess kits were issued.3 Ralph retained his battered old hat, though, now well into its fifth year; there was no way he could lay his hands on a fresh one – the 8th Army didn’t have any in its stores.

On parade, a stern officer warned against speaking to anyone about the escape: doing so could endanger the lives of the Partisans and the many escapees and pilots still to come. The men took the point, while feeling a total vow of silence was a bit excessive. Each was then given a piece of paper to write a telegram home. It was lucky for Ralph that Ronte was living with his parents: he could let them all know at once. ‘ESCAPED SAFE WELL’, read his message.4 A longer aerogram, which would take a week to reach home, was also issued.

That night Ralph and Leslie were woken to be told the sixth plane had landed; the last escapees were on their way. Total rescued as a result of their escape: ninety-nine prisoners of war. Fifteen minutes later, the latecomers entered the barracks. Ralph yelled with delight and ran to his friend: Kit Carson was among the passengers! Now it was 100.

The poor bloke had had an even longer road to here than his fellow captives. After the ambush at the farmhouse, Kit had run deep into the forest, most likely to the north. By good fortune, a few Partisans from a remote mountainous odred, the Koroška Odred, had been heading to the courier station and found Kit on their way. As the courier station was destroyed, they took him back to their HQ in the Kamnik-Savinja Alps.5 From there he’d made his way south with more couriers, and finally reached Semič on 20 September – too late for the leading group, but in time to catch the sixth and final Dakota.6

The party complete, each man underwent an exhaustive interrogation from MI9.7 All were sworn to the strictest secrecy. They could tell no one any detail of their escape: not their families, their spouses, not even their comrades. Each escapee signed the following document:

WARNING AGAINST GIVING INFORMATION WHICH MAY BE OF VALUE TO THE ENEMY

This applies to members of all British, American, Dominion, and all Imperial Services and continues even after discharge therefrom.

1.  It is the duty of all persons to safeguard information which might be useful, directly or indirectly, to the enemy. Such information includes details of any attempted or premeditated escapes, and information of a secret nature of which a P/W may have obtained knowledge whilst in captivity.

2.  It is an offence, punishable with imprisonment, to publish or communicate to any unauthorised person, any information or anything which purports to be information on any matter which would or might be directly or indirectly useful to the enemy.

3.  Information regarding escapes by Prisoners of War, including attempted or premeditated escapes as well as any information of a secret nature of which you have obtained knowledge while in captivity, should be communicated only to an Intelligence Officer, or to such other persons as are officially authorised to interview you.

On no account will any such information be communicated to the Press or to representatives of any Red Cross Society.

I have read this warning, and understand that I shall be liable to disciplinary action if I disclose to anyone information of the kind mentioned above.8

Ralph and Leslie then underwent a second joint interrogation, this time by a posh colonel with a large, hoof-shaped moustache. Ralph wondered if he was the model for the cartoon character Colonel Blimp.

‘There’s been a lot of fuss made over this,’ said the Colonel, ‘but what you’ve done isn’t very remarkable.’ He unfurled a map of Slovenia. ‘Look: you’ve covered barely 100 miles as the crow flies. Can’t understand why more of our fellows aren’t doing it.’

‘Maybe, sir,’ replied Ralph, ‘it’s because they’re not bloody crows.’9

Ralph went back the following day and found a more sympathetic intelligence officer to tell the story to. The officer asked Ralph to write a detailed report. True to his word to Leslie, Ralph wrote a special testimonial. He noted everything Leslie had done to launch the escape and asked that he be considered for an award.10

Unbeknown to Ralph, Captain Heslop was doing the same on Ralph’s behalf. There was no Australian presence in the Mediterranean any more – the AIF had gone home to fight Japan – so a special office of the New Zealand 2nd Division, still in the Mediterranean after all these years, was looking after any Australians who happened to pass by. Heslop sought them out and recounted everything, with a recommendation that Ralph be decorated.11

The escapees were separated and billeted by British and New Zealand forces. A fair sum of spending money was handed out, not that there was much to spend it on. Separated from the Brits, Ralph spent most of his time with Griff, Phil, and Bob; Kit was probably bedridden, having used every ounce of strength to catch up.

A few days later Anzacs and Brits alike were moved on to Naples, which proved far more agreeable. Though the city had been devastated by Allied, then Axis, bombing campaigns, the escapees were able to visit the opera and Pompeii. Once again Ralph found himself feeling more a tourist than a soldier, but this time he felt he’d earned it.

Saturday 30 September 1944

The feelings were bittersweet; the Anzacs were embarking. They were with a large contingent of prisoners exchanged with Germany via Switzerland, allowed because they had a medical exemption from fighting again. But for many of the escapees, today would mean leaving the best friends they’d ever had. Ralph almost wanted to stay behind and travel with Les, Len, and Andy to Britain. But that would be considered desertion, and besides, he needed to get back to Ronte. The Brits all came down from their barracks to give the Anzacs a send-off. Ralph looked across at Leslie standing on the wharf. He’d miss him: the loudmouth Australian bank clerk and the gentle English jazz pianist had been an unlikely duo. But they’d done all right. Without them, the greatest escape of the war would never have occurred.

‘Three cheers for the bloody Crow!’12 one of the Brits shouted. It made Ralph tear up. The horn sounded, and the ship pulled away.

The Brits were headed to Salerno, where they spent some time before finally departing on Friday 13 October. It was not an unlucky date for them: they made it safely to Liverpool a week later.13 The Anzacs stopped off in Egypt, and in Cairo Ralph was finally able to get himself a new slouch hat, as well as a suitcase full of tourist trinkets and gifts for good measure.

On the first night back at sea, something wonderful occurred.

‘Ralph?’

Ralph turned on the deck to see an Australian lieutenant looking at him in disbelief. ‘Jim?’

On the same boat, they had attempted to flee Greece. Now, on the same ship, Ralph and James Forrest were heading home.14 James had been one of the medical repatriations. The pair gazed out at the sea. They weren’t sure what they’d imagined when they’d set out all starry-eyed and eager to fight the Führer. Whatever it had been, this was not it.

In Sri Lanka, the passengers were transferred to an American ship and made for Australia, finally arriving in Melbourne on 17 November.

Friday 17 November 1944

They were given a warm welcome. Ralph’s former commander in Greece, General Blamey, hosted a glitzy ‘Welcome Back’ dinner reception for all the POWs.

The next morning, the remaining twenty-two escapees would scatter: the Kiwis would board a ship to Auckland; the Victorians would go to their homes; the Queenslanders and New South Welshmen would catch a train to Sydney; the South and Western Australians would board a train for Adelaide. Before all that, however, they needed to get drunk – now.

Following the dinner reception, Ralph asked a taxi driver to take them to where booze could be found. Alcohol was rationed, and the liquor laws meant the pubs were way past closing time. Ralph pressed some cash into the driver’s hand, which seemed to concentrate the mind, and soon the group found themselves at an establishment that had no regard for the law. The drinks flowed so long it was a miracle they got back to barracks.

Saturday 18 November 1944

They all made their respective transports that morning, though many cursed The Crow one last time. They all had to embark with hangovers. From Melbourne’s railway station Ralph joined a train to Adelaide. At the station the platform was crammed with soldiers: a few returnees from Europe, but mostly soldiers from the Pacific travelling home on leave.

The train rattled through Melbourne’s suburbs, with Ralph excited to be on a passenger train for the first time since returning from the Graz conference. They crawled across the country, stopping at every small station. Ralph watched the sun set on the bushland, parched golden by heat. It could not have been a more vivid contrast to the steep mountains, blue waters, and lush green forests of Slovenia.

Sunday 19 November 1944

Ralph woke at sunrise the next morning as they were going through Murray Bridge on the approach to Adelaide. He was unshaven, dishevelled, and nervous.

All military personnel had to disembark a station early, at Keswick, where the platform was a throng of weeping and rejoicing families. Ralph put his bags down and searched the platform up and down. No luck. Then, as the platform began to clear, Ralph saw a tall woman in a summer dress with red trim.

Could it be? He must have got a whole inch shorter in captivity.

‘Are you waiting for someone?’ asked Ralph.

‘I was,’ replied Ronte. ‘But it really is you, isn’t it?’15

If you find an error or have any questions, please email us at admin@erenow.org. Thank you!