Alois Dvorak

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Alois Dvořák

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* 23 May 1916

† 24 September 1941

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Alois Dvořák was born in Plumlov on 23 May 1916, he was the third child of Antonín and Františka. His parents were very poor and at the time of his birth, his father Antonín was away serving in Austrian Army during 1st World War and his mother was ill with smallpox. On 22 May 1918, his mother, Františka, died from the disease and was buried in her birth town of Plumlov, in the Moravian region of what was shortly to become Czechoslovakia. At that time, this part of Central Europe was part of the Austro Hungarian Empire. Following the death of their mother, Františka, Alois was placed in an children’s home, in Plumlov, where he was cared for by nuns. His elder brothers were cared for by relatives of Antonín and Františka

Alois Dvořák se narodil 23. května 1916 jako třetí syn manželů Antonína Dvořáka a Františky Dvořákové, rozené Kořínkové. V době narození byl jeho otec Antonín Dvořák v rakouské armádě nasazen na italské frontě. Jeho matka Františka Dvořáková onemocněla neštovicemi (variola), 22. května 1918 zemřela a byla pohřbena ve své rodné obci Plumlov, který se nachází na střední Moravě, nyní v Olomouckém kraji. V té době byla střední Morava součástí Rakousko Uherska. Po smrti jejich matky Františky, byl nejmladší syn Alois umístěn do dětského domova v Plumlově, kde byl v péči sester. Starší bratry Bohumila a Antonína si vzali do opatrování příbuzní Františky a Antonína Dvořákových.

His father survived the war, returned home to Plumlov, collected Alois from the orphanage and they went and lived in Přerov where Alois attended elementary school. In 1928 Alois had completed his primary education and continued his education at the school in Přerov.

Po skončení první světové války v roce 1918 se jeho otec vrátil do Plumlova a Aloise Dvořáka si z dětského domova vzal k sobě a odstěhoval se do Přerova, kde Alois Dvořák navštěvoval základní školu.

On completion of his education, he went to work at his Uncle’s grocery shop, at Hluchov, as a shop assistant. When he was 19, he enrolled into the Military Aviation Academy at Prostějov, commencing there on 1 October 1935 where he joined a pilot training course. On completion of his training he was sworn into the Czechoslovak Air Force and was posted to the 5th Squadron of the 2nd Aviation Regiment. They were stationed at Olomouc and flying fighter aircraft. During this period he logged 300 flying hours.

Po ukončení měšťanské školy v Přerově se v obchodě u svého strýce Antonína Dvořáka v Hluchově vyučil obchodním příručím. Po vyučení v roce 1935, v 19 letech nastoupil do Vojenského leteckého učiliště (VLU) v Prostějově, kde byl zařazen do pilotního výcviku. Po ukončení letecké školy byl po přísaze Československému letectvu přemístěn k 5. letce 2. leteckého pluku v Olomouci., kde létal na bojových typech letounů. V tomto období nalétal 300 hodin.

Alois Dvořák, Prostějov 1935

Whilst serving with this unit he met Jaroslav Sála. Following the German occupation of Czechoslovakia on 15 March 1938, Alois went to stay with a relative in Zlín but kept in contact with Sála. They soon decided to leave their homeland. On 9 July 1939, at 03:30 they left Olomouc by train on their journey to Poland. Initially they went through German occupied Czechoslovakia on their route to Ostrava. There they waited in a pub until 8pm. At 9pm, after Customs checks they boarded the departing express train to Bohumín, a town in Teschen region of Eastern Czechoslovakia, which had, following the 1938 Munich Agreement, been annexed by Poland. They hid in the toilet until the train had crossed over the border into this occupied Polish territory.

U leteckého pluku v Olomouci se seznámil s pilotem Jaroslavem Šálou. Po okupaci zbytkového území Československa dne 15.3.1939, byla Ćeskoslovenská armáda rozpuštěna a Alois Dvořák do svého odchodu za hranice, bydlel ve Zlíně na ulici Losky u příbuzných ze strany jeho matky Františky Dvořákové, rozené Kořínkové. Po dohodě s Jaroslavem Šálou dne 9. července 1939 v 03.30 hodin odjeli vlakem do Ostravy, kde čekali v hospodě do 20. hodiny a ve 21. hodině po celní kontrole nastoupili do odjíždějícího rychlíku do Bohumína, který byl po Michovu připojen k Polsku. Do přejezdu státní hranice s Polskem se ukryli na toaletu.

On 21 July they left Bohumín and went to Cracow where refugees from Czechoslovakia were being transferred. After registering there they were transferred to a camp at Malý Bronovice, on the outskirts of Cracow, where they were placed in temporary huts, given blankets and some poor food. The Czechoslovak exiles were not really welcomed by the Polish Government as they were concerned about further straining of their own deteriorating relationship with Germany. The only option for these refugees was to go to France.

Dne 21. července odešli z Bohumína do Krakova, kde byli po registraci odeslány do uprchlického tábora Malé Bronovice na předměstí Krakova. Ubytováni byli v dřevěných chatách, kde na přikrytí měli deku a špatnou stravu. Pro polskou vládu a úřady nebyli vítanými hosty. a znepokojeni touto situací viděli řešení své situace v odjezdu do Francie, kde očekávali vřelejší přijetí.

French law did not permit foreign troops to be on French territory during peace time. The French authorities offered the Czechoslovak military the option of joining the French Foreign Legion with the promise that if war broke out they would be transferred back from the Legion into Czechoslovak units on French soil. These Czechoslovaks were required to sign a five year contract with the Legion. At 4 am, 27 July 1939, Alois Dvořák, Jaroslav Šála, along with other Czechoslovak military, went to Gdynia where they boarded the Polish ship ‘Chroby’ which was to sail to Boulogne, France.

Francouzské právo však nedovolovalo, aby na území Francie se v době míru nacházely cizí vojenské jednotky, proto československým zahraničním letců a příslušníkům pozemních vojsk byl nabídnut vstup do cizinecké legie se slibem, že po vypuknutí války budou převedeny zpět do československých jednotek na francouzské půdě. Čechoslováci museli podepsat pětiletou smlouvu služby v cizinecké legii. Dne 27. července 1939 Alois Dvořák, Jaroslav Šála s ostatními československými zahraničními letci odjeli do Kdyně, kde nastoupili na palubu polské lodi Chrobry která plula do francouzské Bologne.

On 31 July, the ‘Chroby’ berthed at Boulogne, France. Early the following morning, Alois Dvořák, Jaroslav Sála and the other Czechoslovak military, disembarked onto French soil. After some food they boarded a train for the thirteen hour journey to Paris. They arrived there at 17:30 and were taken by coaches to French Air Force barracks. After a medical examination they were permitted to visit Paris. Before they were due to be sent to join the Legion in Africa, the Germans, on 1 September 1939 invaded Poland.

Dne 31. července 1939 parník Chrobry zakotvil V přístavu Bologne ve Francii. S rozbřeskem příštího dne Alois Dvořák, Jaroslav Šála a další příslušníci československého letectva vystoupili na francouzskou půdu. Po občerstvení nastoupili do vlaku a za 13 hodin v 17.30 hod. vystoupili z vlaku v Paříži, kde nastoupili do autobusů, které je odvezly do leteckých kasáren. Po vyšetření jim před cestou do cizinecké legie v Africe byla povolena návštěva Paříže. Dne 1. září 1939 napadli Němci Polsko.

Alois Dvořák, l940

On 11 September Dvořák was transferred the the airfield at Avord, an airfield about 20 km South East of Bourges, for re-training on French equipment. A further transfer to the airbase at Istres on 11 December 1939, and to Chartres for fighter pilot training on 16 January 1940. Dvořák’s final transfer, before France capitulated, was to Cazaux air base, South West of Bordeaux, on 23 May 1940. During his time in l’Armee d’Air he did not fly operationally.

Dne 11. září 1939 Alois Dvořák nastoupil do služby na letiště Avord, vzdáleného asi 20 km jihovýchodně od Bourges, kde prováděl přeškolení na francouzských cvičných vojenských letounech. Dne 11. prosince 1939 byl přeložen na letiště Istres, 16. ledna 1940 na letiště Chartres, kde prováděl letecký výcvik na stíhacích letounech a poté 23. května 1940 na letecké základny Cazaux, jihozápadně od Bordeux. Během svého působení v l’Armée dÄir operační lety neprováděl.

With the Fall of France, he and other Czechoslovak airmen were evacuated to England. They sailed from Bordeaux, on 19 June 1940, on the ship ‘Robur III’ and arrived in Falmouth, England on 22 June 1940. Here he joined the RAF, at the rank of Sergeant, and was initially at the Czech Depot at Cosford before being posted, on 28 September 1940, to 6 OTU at Sutton Bridge, for conversion and fighter pilot training on Hawker Hurricane aircraft.

Po pádu Francie byl spolu s dalšími československými letci evakuován do Anglie. Dne 19. června 1940 odpluli na lodi “Robur III” z přístavu Bodeux ve Francii a 22. června 1940 připluli do přístavu Falmouth v Anglii, kde se Alois Dvořák stal příslušníkem RAF, v hodnosti seržanta a z počátku byl v českém depu Cosford před registrací. Dne 28. září 1940 byl zařazen do 6. OTU v Sutton Bridge, pro konverzaci a stíhací letecký výcvik pilotů na letadlech Hawker Hurricane.

He completed his re-training and on 15 October 1940 he was posted to 310 Sqn, the first Czechoslovak squadron to have been formed in the RAF, based at Duxford and flying Hurricane Mk I aircraft. Apart from a short attachment to 257 Sqn, in May 1941, he remained with 310 Sqn until he was killed, on 24 September 1941.

Dne 15 října dokončil přeškolení a byl zařazen k 310. československé peruti v RAF se sídlem Duxfordu, kde létal na stíhacím letounu Hawker Hurricane MK 1 . Kromě krátkodobého zařazení k 257. peruti RAF v květnu 1941, létal u 310. československé stíhací perutě RAF až do své smrti při letecké nehodě. dne 24. září 1941.

Alois Dvořák returning from combat patrol with 310 Sqn.
Alois Dvořák po návratu ze vzdušného souboje s německými stíhači nad Anglii.

On 20 July 1941, 310 Sqn, was transferred from its current base at Marrtlesham Heath to Dyce, in Scotland, with a detachment based at Montrose. On the day he died, he was flying NN-V, Z2766, a Hurricane Mk.IIA, on a patrol with three other 310 Sqn Hurricanes between Dyce and Montrose. The flight consisted of F/Lt Miroslav Kredba (flight leader), P/O Wilhelm Sniechowski, a Polish pilot on attachment to 310 Sqn., Sgt Zdeněk Škarvada and Sgt Alois Dvořák.

Dne 20. července 1941, se 310. peruť přemístila ze základny v Marrtleshan Heath do Dyce ve Skotsku, s odloučeným hotovostním letištěm Montrose, na kterém se střídali hotovostní osádky. V den, kdy Alois Dvořák zemřel, letěl na letounu NN-V, Z2766, Hurricane MK IIA, na hlídku s dalšími třemi stíhacími letouny Hurricane 310. československé stíhací perutě RAF z letiště Dyce na letiště Montrose. Čtyřčelnnou skupinu vedl F/Lt Miroslav Kredba ve skupině s ním letěl ve dvojici P/O Vilém Sniechovski (polský pilot na posílení 310. stíhací perutě). Druhou dvojici vedl Sgt. Alois Dvořák a ve dvojici s ním byl Sgt. Zdeněk Škarvada.

They took off at 08:50, the weather was bad and visibility poor. Fog caused the four Hurricanes to fly low over hilly country. At 09:10 Dvořák’s aircraft crashed at Leachie Hill, Kincardine, about 16 km West of Stonehaven, Scotland. According to Henry Prokop, who was a member of a rescue team “If the aircraft had flown only about 3 metres away from the hill as he he flew over the hillside he would not his wing would not have caught the hill.”

Skupina letounů vzlétla v 8.50 hod. za velmi nepříznivých povětrnostních podmínek, malé dohlednosti a mlhy, která čtyři Hurricany přinutila aby v členitém pahorkatém terénu letěli v přízemní výšce. V 9hod.10 minut letoun Aloise Dvořáka narazil křídlem do homolovitého kopce u Leachie Hill, Kincardine, asi 16 km západně od Stonehaven ve Skotsku a havaroval. Podle vyjádření Henry Prokopa, který byl členem záchranné skupiny: ” Kdyby letoun letěl jen o 3 metry stranou od kopce než letěl o svah kopce by křídlem nezachytil”.

Flying low and in fog Dvořák’s right wing tip struck the hill about half way up the 400 metre hill. The aircraft was completely destroyed with wreakage spread scattered for about 250 metres. Dvořák had been thrown from the cockpit and his body was found about 3 metres from the wrecked cockpit.

Letoun letící nízko v mlze,narazil křídlem asi do 400 m kopce. Letadlo bylo zcela zničeno a trosky letounu byly rozptýleny asi 250 metrů. Dvořák byl vymrštěn z kabiny a jeho tělo bylo nalezeno 3 metry od vraku kabiny.

Two days later, Dvořák’s Hurricane was found on Leachie Hill and his body recovered.

Letoun Hurricane s tělem Aloise Dvořáka byl nalezeny až za dva dny na Leachie Hill.

Sgt Zdeněk Škarvada, who was in one of the other three Hurricanes on that flight recalls: “It was on September 24, 1941. We both flew together. The first pair departed for Dyce several minute ago. I was flying No 2 to Alois. We left Montrose and took the course northwards as usual. We flew there every day, so we knew the route well. Dyce-bound, our altitude was low. Suddenly a we flew into a veil of fog to ground level. Alois stubbornly went on at this low altitude in nill visibility. I gesticulated to him that we should turn right to the shore, where there was no risk of hitting the hills, but Alois carried on flying in the same direction. I was not of the same opinion, so I breached flying discipline and left him. I took the course by 90º to the right and flew at this course for about five minutes.

Sgt. Zdeněk Škarvada, který byl v jednom ze tří Hurricanes na tento let vzpomíná:”Bylo to 24. září 1941. Oba jsme letěli společně. První pár odletěl do Dyce o několik minut dříve. 1. letěl č. 2 Alois. Po staru jsme letěli jako obvykle na sever. Létali jsme tak každý den, takže jsme cestu dobře znali. Dyce nebyl vidět, měly jsme nízkou výšku. Najednou jsme vlétli do závoje mlhy, který byl až k povrchu země. Alois tvrdohlavě pokračoval v této malé výšce bez viditelnosti. Destikuloval jsem na něho, že bychom měli odbočit doprava nad pobřeží, kde nejsou nebezpečná převýšení terénu, ale Alois pokračoval v letu ve stejném směru. Nebyl jsem stejného názoru a tak jsem porušil disciplinu v létání a opustil jej, provedl jsem zatáčku doprava do kurzu 090° a letěl tímto kurzem asi 5 minut.

‘From my point of view, it was far enough to be over the coast. I turned to resume the original course and decreased altitude cautiously, till I spotted the sea. I flew over the sea level towards the shore and followed it at an altitude of about 30 ft. in the direction of Aberdeen.The harbour was not so large to endanger me. I made a circiut of the airfield and landed.’

“Odhadl jsem, že již jsem nad pobřežím a převedl letoun do původního směru. Z malé výšky jsem uviděl moře. Letěl jsem směrem k pobřeží ve výšce asi 30 ft. (10 metru) nad hladinou ve směru na Aberden. Přístav nebyl tak veliký, aby mě ohrozil. Udělal jsem okruh na přistání a přistál.”

But Alois did not arrive with me. F/Lt Miroslav Kredba had already landed. About an hour later P/O Sniechowski landed but there was still no news of Alois who, by now, would have run out of fuel. No airfield could confirm that he had landed at their airfield. Then it turned out that he had crashed in the mountains. The aircraft had crashed into a hill and it was scattered for 200 to 300 metres – losing bit by bit as it slid after hitting Leachie Hill. It is such a sad memory.’

Alois Dvořák se mnou nepřiletěl. F/Lt Miroslav Kredba již přistál. Asi o hodinu později přistál P/O Sniechovski, ale o Aloisovi nebyly žádné zprávy. Podle doby letu spotřeboval již pohonné hmoty. Žádné letiště nepotvrdilo, že přistál na jejich letišti.Letadlo narazilo do kopce a části letounu byly rozptýleny na 200 až 300 metrech- ztrácel kousky po kousku jak klouzal po nárazu Leachie Hill. Je to taková smutná vzpomínka.”

Sgt Alois Dvořák was buried on 29 September 1941 at the Old Churchyard at Dyce, about 6 km from Aberdeen, Scotland.

Sgt. Alois Dvořák byl pohřben dne 29.září 1941 na starém hřbitově v Dyce, asi 6 km od Aberdeen ve Skotsku.

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In September 1991, following the ‘Velvet Revolution’ of 1989, Alois Dvořák was posthumously promoted to the rank of plukovník [Colonel] in the Czechoslovak Air Force.

V září 1991 po ‘sametové revoluci’ v roce 1989, byl Alois Dvořák in memoriam povýšen do hodnosti plukovník československého letectva.

He is commemorated, along with the other 2936 Battle of Britain pilots, on the Christopher Foxley-Norris Memorial Wall at the National Battle of Britain Memorial at Capel-le-Ferne, Kent:

Alois Dvořák je uveden spolu s dalšími 2.936 piloty, kteří se účastnili bitvy o Británii na Foxley Christopher Norris na pamětní zdi Národního památníku bitvy o Britanii v Capel-le-Ferme, Kent.

He is also commemorated on the London Battle of Britain Memorial.

Alois Dvořák je také připomínán na památníku Bitvy o Británii v Londýně.

Article last updated 18 July 2011

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Shot down – Frantisek Fajtl

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On 5 May 1942, S/Ldr František Fajtl DFC participated in the ill-fated Circus 157 over Northern France. During this mission he was shot down and his account of his successful evasion and return to England is:

S/L František Fajtl DFC

The weather was beautiful at RAF Hornchurch on 5th May 1942.

Immediately after lunch we left for briefing. I was in a hurry to take my seat in my favourite chair. However, “my chair” had already been occupied by a member of No 64 Squadron and I was too embarrassed to tell him that “my chair” was my lucky charm. I sat elsewhere and lost my good mood. A little while later the Intelligence Officer arrived and unveiled the cover over the blackboard.

“Hell, Lille again!” I heard someone behind me.

Half way across the Channel I remembered “my chair” but chased away my thoughts hoping that our sweep will end well and I devoted my attention to my flying. I lead No 122 Squadron as it C.O.

The Boston’s had dropped their bombs and turned towards England. A few minutes later we were attacked by German fighters and in the ensuing melée I was hit. I dived to escape my pursuers. When I levelled off, very low over the ground, I found out that my Spitfive was on fire somewhere underneath and that smoke was entering the cabin. To top my bad luck the engine stalled. I had to land straight ahead and without delay. Fate was on my side ‘though in the shape of a flat field into which my aircraft ploughed with its undercarriage up. The soft, humid spring soil extinguished the fire. I left mg cockpit quickly and run away from my expiring comrade aimlessly. Fortunately, I ran in the southern direction, After about 200 yards I came across an old woman working in the field with a teenage boy.

S/Ldr F. Fajtl crash site near Hardifort 2011 .

“Are the Germans anywhere around?” I asked. “Over there” the woman said pointing towards a big building in the direction from which I was coming. It was obvious that I fell in the midst of the “Atlantic Wall” and sat down practically into the lap of the enemy. I was aghast but I did not lose my head. I began to think and act quickly. Our intelligence officers in England advised to get as far as possible from our crashed aircraft and never to enter the nearest inhabited place.

I took heed of that. It was invaluable advice. I ran far into the fields and lay down in a shallow ditch. I let my body take a rest but forced my brain to go on working. “Find something better” it told me. I avoided a village and started searching the terrain until I found a stream. I sank into the water on my back and left only my nose protruding on the surface so that I would not suffocate. That probably saved my life as the search party which included sniffer dogs lost my trail.

I remained so until dusk. Darkness, an excellent cover, allowed me to leave my unpleasant bath in icy-cold water, and I climbed onto the dry bank. I observed the countryside and realised that I was surrounded by troops who, from time from one to, flashed their torches from one to another. Beside that I heard the Germans clearly searching the nearby village. The dogs barked late into the night.

From the bank of the stream I had a good view and started crawling between the two nearest guards. I succeeded in getting through gap and went on crawling until I reached safety. Then I got up and walked normally. Towards the morning I found a lonely farm. I was thankful that my misfortune was beginning to change for the better, and I was hopes that my luck would not leave me. I stepped into a cow-shed to get dry and warm.

It worked. I was not refused shelter. The farmer offered me a bed for the night, gave me food and changed my uniform for a farmworker’s civilian clothes. I asked for a hoe and set off with it across fields for Paris.

At night I slept in barns mostly but also in clean beds in houses of brave Frenchmen and old Polish settlers. On my march I stupidly tore off blisters of my feet thinking that this would relieve my pain but instead my feet swell and changed colour to blue. Once, to make my journey easier, I stole a bicycle left in the ditch by the roadside. As soon as I mounted it I heard a cry from two boys who set to pursue me. It was not difficult to catch me as of the two bikes I took the worse one with a punctured rear tyre. I apologised and revealed to them my Odyssey, trying to convince them that I was not a professional thief. I told them that I was even allowed theft by my superiors. “After the war the King of England will repay your loss with interest”. I asked the frightened boys not to betray me. “I want to escape from the Germans and I will go on fighting against them, also to liberate France”. They were obviously decent boys and probably complied with my wishes.

I reached Paris after eight days and I found a safe shelter and excellent help for 16 days from a family of Czech settlers named Formánek. “Auntie” nursed me and treated my feet, fed me well and supplied me with money for my further journey. In accordance with a Czech saying that the darkest spot is straight under the lamp, “Uncle” Victor found marvellous help right in the headquarters of the French Secret Police which “officially” collaborated with the German occupants. A brave Inspector Rossi, a Corsican, supplied me with a false Identity Card and took me by train from Paris as far as the border with the unoccupied France. After that I had to fend for myself. I felt that I nearly won as all I had to do was to get through “Free” France where there was no Gestapo and no Wehrmacht.

It was not as easy as I imagined. On the train journey via, Vichy, which I unfortunately chose, there were constant checks as there were fears of assassination of Marechal Petain. I stood in the corridor all the way, dozing off standing up, but I was apprehensive. When the sleuths appeared I disappeared into the toilet but did not look myself in. An old trick but it worked.

Difficulties arose from time to time. Once, proceeding on foot on a road, I noticed a policeman. From a fair distance I saw that he was stopping all pedestrians but allowed motorcars and other vehicles through, I waited patiently for my chance. It did come. A cart was pulled by a strong horse up the hill. Two men sat in it. I asked them if I could get a ride, complaining about my feet. They agreed and took me with then. I noticed that the reins hung loosely over the side of the cart without anyone holding them. That suited me. I got up, took the reins into my hands and turned my back on the policeman. I got through safely.

In one inn, I was refused breakfast for which I was ready to pay. One young man did not take me in his car when I begged a lift. An RC priest, coming from the mass, refused to advise me where to find a shelter in the village, and in another a farmer chased me away when I asked him for a place to sleep.

Nevertheless, there were more of those brave ones willing to help. I remember fondly a Mr Vitek, a Pole. He let me stay in his place, gave me food and offered valuable informations. Also a French lawyer sprang to help. He offered me a place in his car, although it was already full with four members of his family. He took me as far as Montluçon where he helped me to buy a trainn ticket to Montpellier. The nicest experience awaited me in Béziers. There a pretty young student, Marlene, warned me against the police, bought me a train ticket to Argeles sur Mer, and acted as if she were my sister on the platform which was crawling with gendarmes and policemen carrying big pistols slung from their shoulders. Had it not been for Marlene’s presence I would have surely become the centre of their interest. I was quite dirty, badly shaven and all crumpled. I also like to remember my crossing the Pyrenees. I found and excellent place of rest with the family of a charcoal burner deep in the mountains. They accepted me with friendliness, they fed me and supplied food and drink for my trek through the mountains, and especially gave me “golden” advice how to avoid border guards, mountain guards and the “sharp boys” directly on the ridge – the border with Spain.

The last sector of my escapade in France I completed with cuts and bruises which I suffered in falls from rocks and by struggling through dry and prickly bushes on my way through the rough country. When I descended into Spain I was arrested by two soldiers who pointed their guns at me. I raised my hands and in the international manner I announced “Prisonero de la guerra Britanica”. From their grimaces and talking I gathered that they did not believe me; I could not have been an Englishman because I had brown eyes and all Englishmen had blue eyes! I left them with their belief, lay down beside them and fell fast asleep.

I followed other British comrades in three flea infested prisons and then into a concentration camp called Miranda de Ebro, and I found out that their blue eyes did not help them either.

The British Military Attaché got me out out of the camp and took me to Madrid as a free citizen again, and from there I was sent with a large group of co-sufferers to Gibraltar. The crossing of the border into the free world was emotional experience never to be forgotten.

On 20th August, my thirtieth birthday, I returned from the British fortress to England. That was the culmination of three and half months of involuntary wandering accompanied by enormous amount of luck, most precious help and understanding from brave strangers, and my determination to return to my own.

After a rest I took off again and flew over the area where the enemy humiliated me. I found again my niche in the ring in the sky where, with my comrades, we were again hitting the enemy as he deserved it.

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Journey into the unknown

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F/Sgt Bohumil Ryšánek served as a Navigator in 311 Sqn. In 1939, as a 25 years old, he chose to leave his homeland and take up arms against the German occupiers. His story of his route to England where he joined the RAF is:

Journey into the unknown: Lipník to?

In my Journey into the Unknown I have concentrated mainly on my experiences regarding seeing different countries, the people I’ve met and made friends with.

The war and its incidents affecting me I’ve mentioned only briefly, as they were the same as described in a number of books written by my wartime friends and many others.

The Journey into the Unknown was perhaps triggered off by an incident at the local dance in February 1939 and the subsequent German invasion in March. – After the Sudetenland was `given’ to Germany (in accordance with the Munich agreement) the `old’ local policemen, known to everybody in town, were replaced by the `expelled’ police from Sudetenland. There was the normal exuberance at the dance and the `new’ constable remonstrated with my friend, Pepa Taborský (he was my school friend and member of our soccer team). The result of this confrontation was – the policeman falling through the glass door. The following day, the `new’ Chief of Police, Mr Boda, called me to his office at the Town Hall and asked whether I had seen the constable being pushed through the door. I told him that I had not seen `the incident’, so he, without warning, put me in a cell! This was observed by a town clerk (a friend of mine, L. Wiederman) who `broadcast’ what had happened to me. The Chief, in the meantime, had had second thoughts and came to let me out.

I went to a lawyer to sue him for wrongful arrest; his defence was that he had not locked the cell door, so I could have walked out at any time. There was a suggestion about taking it to the higher court (in Olomouc), which was under German jurisdiction. I decided not to proceed with the case! Meanwhile, the Chief sent a letter to me and my friend to report to a `work camp’ near Ostrava. We took the letter to the County Offices where my friend had an ex-army `buddy’ who was an Admin. Clerk; he told us to forget the Chief’s letter since he had no power to decide who was to go to the camp. We discussed the prevailing situation and thought that there was not much future in the CSR under the current regime i.e. the Germans, with the new local subservient police, so `the journey into the unknown’ was formulated. We had heard rumours that, in Poland, an anti-German group was being formed. I told Taborsky that we should leave home on the last Monday in May. We were to meet at the station and take an early train – he did not turn up! As I learned after the war, he did not join me as arranged because he had been travelling on the train, carrying information for the partisans. He was picked up by the Gestapo, taken off the train and, apparently, killed – his body was never found. This tragedy happened in March 1945, two months before the end of the war, in May.

First Phase

I started the journey alone on the train to Frydek-Mistek, and saw a distant relative, Mr Drbal, owner of a removal company. He changed some crowns for me into Polish zloty. The same evening one of his employees and I cycled to his home in Morovka. Early in the morning, I set off over the mountains (past Ropice, 1082m), 13 miles over the border to Jablunkov (formerly in Moravia but now ‘occupied’ by Poland). From Jablunkov I took the train to Cracow. There was no problem at all; I discovered that this escape route was not being taken by other refugees; there was no guard on the border. On arrival at Cracow I started looking for the CSR Consulate. While I was resting in the park, a plain-clothes policeman, recognising by my white `balloon silk’ coat that I was not a native of Poland, asked me to accompany him to the police station. As it was after office hours, the Magistrate’s Court was not in session so he put me in a cell until the next morning. In the evening a warder brought me a big flask of coffee and rolls (bulky). The warder had been in Prague during the First World War so we had a long chat – incidentally the coffee and rolls were sent to someone else! He told me that there wouldn’t be any problems in the Court and I would be taken to the Consulate. Later that evening he came back and brought with him a young man to keep me company. The fellow introduced himself, saying: “I am Vavrin Surjan from Slovakia.” I was taken aback when he asked if I would mind sharing the cell with him because he was a Slovak. I said jokingly, “You idiot, do I have a choice?” (We later lost touch with each other.)

The following morning I was in Court, the second case. The first case dealt with a young prostitute who had apparently stolen an umbrella. The girl was crying and the Polish Magistrate tried to calm her down, telling her politely, “Please, madam, don’t cry!” – and, in the end, jailed her for seven days! My case was over in a few minutes. I was not considered a threat to the Polish State and policeman took me to the CSR Consulate.

After the usual interrogation and identification I was taken to the ‘refugees’ accommodation at No. 24 Glowny Rynek (Main Square) where I met my many future friends in the Foreign Legion, in the Army in France and England and, finally, in the Air Force. Cracow was, and is, a very interesting historical town on the River Vistula, overlooked by Wawel Castle. About two weeks later, who should arrive but two brothers, Joe and Toni Ocelka, from a village 2 kilometres from my hometown. Joe was a pilot (he later became Wing Commander of our 311 Squadron) and had been in the same Grammar School I was at, only four years earlier. They were both very annoyed with me because I had been talking to them on the Sunday before my departure and I had not told them that I was leaving town – they had had a much more difficult journey to Poland than had I.

There was not much going on in Cracow; just waiting for the transport to France. Before leaving, however, we were moved to a small village near Cracow – Bronovice. Apart from keeping fit and exercising, there was very little to do; I played soccer against various local teams and against the top club ‘Wisla Cracow’ to whom we lost, not too badly, I think: 5 -2! I was gaining new friends and acquaintances and had teamed up with some fellows from Brno and Karel Konstain (Kavan) from Kolin.

Finally the day came when a train took us to the port of Gnyna to board a very new luxurious Polish ocean liner, ‘Chrobry’ (sunk by the Germans at the beginning of the Second World War), on our way to Boulogne and the Foreign Legion! After landing at Boulogne we were transported to Lille for a check-up and to sign up for five years in the French Foreign Legion. We were told that if we didn’t sign we would be sent to the German frontier (how serious the threat was, I don’t know). However, there was a proviso in the five-year commitment that, should the war in Europe start, we would be sent to France to form the nucleus of a Czech army. We knew that the war was inevitable even if the top leaders in the West didn’t think so. After all the ‘signings’ the train took us to Marseille. Further check-ups at the old fort by the sea – a transit stop – before sailing to Africa – Oran, here we come!

Second Phase

After landing in Oran, we were marched to the Foreign Legion Barracks, awaiting transport to the main French Foreign Legion Garrison at Sidi Bel Abbès. While waiting there, some of our fellows were ordered (out of spite) by two corporals – German in origin – to shower and clean some pigs. They resented doing this very strongly and swore vengeance when we returned to France through Oran. I was lucky not to attract that kind of attention – the worst I suffered was when a corporal tried to swap his battered, old tin mug for my newly issued one. A former school friend of mine, a quiet, peaceable fellow, sitting next to me, suddenly plunged his fork into the corporal’s hand and swore he’d kill him if he took it.

In the réfectoire (dining room), was a picture of a general with the following (not very encouraging!) quotation:

Vous autres legionnaires
Vous etes soldats pour mourir
Etje vous envie ou l’on meurt (Général Négrière)

(Sometimes it is better not to admit to knowing the `native’ language (i.e. French).

B. Kerwitzer put a question to the orderly Corporal and, in reply, was told, “Tu as rien a faire; alors to vas faire les cabinets.”)

In the Foreign Legion.

On arrival at Sidi-Bel-Abbès we were fitted out with Foreign Legion uniforms, given our ranks, i.e. ‘Soldat de la Deuxième Classe’ – you couldn’t get any lower, and also our personal number – `matricule’- mine was 85133. When you were called out on parade etc. you answered with your name and ‘matricule’ (and, if you were answering an officer, you added “mon Colonel” or whatever his rank was). Some chaps had difficulty remembering their number in French so some of us had to teach them. There were some rather amusing incidents: on marching exercises the NCO called out the tempo – “Un, deux, trois, quatre…” – a fellow whose name was ‘Makar’ broke rank because he thought that his name had been called – `quatre’ sounding phonetically like ‘Makar’! The military training in Bel Abbés was mainly marching and running: the Reveille at 5 am, after breakfast 3 – 4 hours exercise, back to barracks by 11 am, lunch and siesta until 4 – 5 o’clock. After dinner you could go to town. You had to be `smartly’ dressed; there was a big mirror by the exit gate to check your appearance and the guard sent you back if he thought that you were not smart enough! The pay during training was negligible so you could not purchase very much in town – some beer, cigarettes, soap etc. After the basic training you got your `prim’ – 300 francs – one felt like a millionaire – champagne at 15 Fr. a bottle! Life was very easy for most of us, being fit and healthy, but some recruits, mainly the ex-Spanish Republicans (after the Civil War in Spain) were weak and tired easily. Finally the day came when we were sent to our permanent garrison at Ain-El-Adjar in the mountains, not very far from Saida. As it happened, we (the Czechs) were the largest group (circa 200) so we really dominated the goings-on in the camp. The officer in charge was in Saida most of the time, enjoying himself. The highest rank present was a Sergeant and an old Legionnaire Corporal Chef (Yugoslav in origin), serving his third five-year term in the Legion. The exercises were very easy, the climate hot and dry (no humidity), although one had to run the gauntlet of the garrison stork who would swoop down and `put it about’ with his long beak, whilst the men were exercising in the square!

As a soccer player I had certain privileges, which meant I didn’t have to use the general shower facility – a real boon as the water was controlled by ‘Soldat de la Première Classe’, shouting the order for the water to go on, off apply soap, rinse. As the water flow was never powerful enough to reach the last cubicle, its reluctant inhabitant always emerged lathered in soap. Those who did not finish, for instance, the morning run, were punished by spending the night in jail without a roof and with a stone bed to sleep on – and the nights were very cold – we had three camel-hair blankets to keep us warm! Before we could properly settle into our mountain `village’ – one shop which sold some grocery and wine – at midnight, on September 3rd, a drunken Corporal Chef came into our dormitory with a lighted candle and shouted, “La guerre a éclatée!” (War has been declared!), called us all murderers and left. A few days later we were marched to Saida where the real training for war started.

In Saida we received our `piqûre’ (inoculation) against all imaginable illnesses and to thin our blood (to withstand the heat) – a jab in the back and that was it. The ‘operation’ was performed by very unskilled orderlies, so after the jab everybody’s back was oozing blood. We were told not to drink any alcohol and those who did became really ill.

Nothing very exciting was happening; we were getting familiar with the old French Hotchkiss heavy machine gun and we were all anxious to be on our way back to France. Finally, in October, our Foreign Legionnaire uniforms were exchanged for French army uniforms and we were off to Oran for the embarkation to France. While waiting at the garrison (the one mentioned when we arrived from France) the two German NCO’s, who had mistreated some of our fellows on our initial arrival there, foolishly started walking through the crowded parade ground (about 600 Czech ex-legionnaires) and received terrible revenge beatings. This was watched by the CO, who let it pass (perhaps also in retaliation for the profiteering he knew they had indulged in re. Army fodder). The same evening we said goodbye to Algeria and sailed to France.

Third Phase

We landed at Sète and were transported to Agde by ‘camions’ (lorries) to our camp, which had previously been ‘home’ to Spanish Republican soldiers after Franco’s victory in Spain, and after which some had stayed as general ‘domestics’.

Accommodated in wooden huts, we settled in and started training and preparing for the next stage of warfare. Coming from the Foreign Legion, we were already in French uniform and the stream of new Czech-Slovak arrivals from France and other continental countries was swelling our ranks. Having been trained to handle the Hotchkiss machine gun, a few of us were being made instructors to the new recruits and NCO’s. The weather of early autumn was very pleasant, quite warm, so there were frequent outings to the beach. (Today Agde is a well-known holiday resort). One of the usual exercises was testing the budding aspirants for promotion, by defending the lighthouse on the hill by the sea. As a joke, someone invented a scenario, which asked of a cadet what he would do if his platoon was being attacked by an infantry regiment – including tanks, bombers. “Well, sir,” said the cadet, after some lengthy consideration, “I’d give an order to my platoon to kneel down and pray!”

One day I received a parcel from ‘Macy’s’ of New York (at that time I did not know who or what Macy’s was). The parcel contained all sorts of goodies – cigarettes, etc. It had been ordered by Mlle Margaret O’Brien who lived with her mother in Paris. Margaret appointed herself my ‘marraine de guerre’ (war godmother). There was also an invitation, arranged by Margaret, to visit the `Cité Universitaire des États Unis’ when on leave in Paris by the Directeur, Mr Lowry. During leave in Paris, we were also invited to the Czechoslovak Embassy, where the Ambassador, after refreshments, made a speech: “You are standing on the free land of Czechoslovakia and for that you should be grateful to me!” The Ambassador, ‘His Excellency’ Mr Osusky (Slovakian) was not on friendly terms with President Beneš, who was in exile in London. After that speech my friend (L Kruml) and I picked up some cigarettes (I did not smoke) and left.

I visited an old army friend of mine who was domiciled in France, married with two daughters – his wife came from the Basque country in SW France. One of his daughters had been married to a war photographer, killed in the Spanish Civil War. Before leaving Paris I also went to see a man who had sent me a letter in Agde. His name was Mr Kocian and he was from my hometown, (Lipnik N/Becvou) and had been with my father in the First World War. Mr Kocian left the CSR and settled in France in Orly, not far from Paris. I took my friend with me and we had a few days of drinking with him in the local bistro – the ‘Rougette de Lille’ (composer of the Marseillaise). On returning to his wife, Mr Kocian was severely castigated by her for leading us youngsters astray! I remember one of his party tricks involved a tame duck, who, on being told that the cockerel had been very naughty and exhorted as to what he was going to do about it, chased it around the room until it caught him by the comb and gave him a thorough shaking!

I did not meet my ‘marraine de guerre’ Margaret, as she and her mother had left for America. Margaret was a ballerina with the Paris and Monte Carlo Operas. Later I learned that her father had been an oil executive in the Pasadena Company. When he died, Margaret and her mother moved to Paris (Margaret’s mother was originally from Holland and had never learned French!).

Now back to Agde… When the course for the newly promoted NCO’s finished, my company was moved to Castelno des Guers on the River Hérolt, not very far from Agde. A very nice little village – picturesque – it is dominated by an old fort, dating from the days when the south coast of France was raided by pirates. We had a never-ending supply of wine, which we had ‘liberated’ from the Co-Operative Store on the riverbank. All good things must come to an end so, one day an order came to board the train and move north to the ‘Front’. The Germans had broken through Belgium and bypassed the Maginot line, moving towards Paris (or so we heard). The train took us to Coulomiers (east of Paris), which was to be our base. That night, after the Italians occupied Monaco, Monte Carlo and part of southern France, the French Prime Minister Renaud broadcast from Paris, saying, “La France ne peut pas mourir!” When I heard that, I said to V Lehar, who was in charge of our platoon (awaiting the delivery of `cannon anti-char’ – anti-tank cannon we never saw), “Let’s go home!” i.e. back to Agde.

After a few days we were on the way back to the south. The chaos on the road was unbelievable – the French civilians were leaving their homes and farms in all types of vehicles; some were pushing carts filled with families with children etc. The farm animals were running loose, cows desperate to be milked, and nobody was around. Chateaux were lying abandoned and we could raid vintage cellars, bathe in champagne and fall onto four-posters with our boots on. To the tune of “En arriere, en avant / Nous vaincrons en buvant!” we filled our ‘bidons’ (two-litre field flasks) with wine from the cellars and smashed what we could to prevent the Germans, so close behind us, from enjoying what we had. Yet for all that, with some of my colleagues taking full advantage of the opportunity of looting from the deserted shops – jewellery, everything – my total sum of war booty was a towel I took on impulse because I needed one!

In one little town the road was completely blocked by the retreating French artillery units – nobody moved (all this has been documented by the historians of WW2). We eventually got as far as Montereau on the River Seine, marching still in ‘proper’ military formation with horses pulling the carts with machine guns etc. Approaching the river bridge, guarded by the Senegalese soldiers on the opposite bank, the bridge was bombed by Stuka’s and blown up!. In the chaos that followed, some of us took the initiative to cross the river in rowing boats and eventually reached Agde. The surviving part of our ‘army’ arrived a few days later. There was a lot of argument and recrimination – that those who had arrived earlier than the main body of the army had, in effect, deserted from the front, although in actual fact there was no Front to speak of. All that was sorted out and we were moved to Sète to board the ship for Gibralter.

Czechoslovaks soldiers being evacuated from Sète

By an irony of fate, the coal ship to Gibraltar was the ‘North Moor” belonging to Lord Runciman, who was on a fact-finding mission in the Sudetenland, to see how the Czechs were oppressing the ‘poor’ Germans, referring and describing all the ‘atrocities’ to the Prime Minister Chamberlain!

On arrival at Gibraltar we were transferred onto a rather nice ocean liner. While waiting at the port, we noticed British warships sailing towards Oran to prevent the French warships from falling into German hands.

Our journey and accommodation on the ship was quite luxurious – compared to the ‘coal boat’. We sailed deep into the Atlantic, perhaps to avoid an attack by German bombers based on the west coast of France. During the journey we started English lessons. I’d remembered quite a few English words and some grammar (taught by my Jewish friend back at home). When we eventually landed in Liverpool, I could muster a few ‘important’ sentences i.e. how to get to the nearest pub, dance hall, ask for a cup of tea etc, which did not help very much, as I couldn’t understand the reply to any of my questions! We disembarked at Liverpool (at night) and were put on a train going to? There was a blackout and I wondered why every station was called ‘Bovril’ – I learned later that all the names of the railway stations were covered, and that Bovril was a popular English meat paste. We arrived in Nantwich (Cheshire) still in the dark and then marched to our allocated camp in the grounds of Cholmondeley Castle. The tents were ready for us, and our ‘new life’ in England started in the glorious summer of 1940.

Czechoslovaks arriving at Liverpool after escaping from France 1940.

Czechoslovaks at Cholmondeley 1940.

Newly arrived Czechoslovak soldiers at Cholmondeley 1940.

Under canvas at Cholmondeley 1940.

Shortly after arriving at Cholmondeley, Bohumil Ryšánek voluntered to join the RAF.

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Karel Valasek – Evasion and PoW

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P/O Karel Valášek was serving as a pilot with 310 Sqn. when he was shot down in his Spitfire over France. His story of his evasion, capture and being a PoW is:

On the 21st of May 1944, I was shot down by German ground Anti-aircraft fire just as we finished our mission. Our mission that day was to clear and attack ground targets occupied by German military. First was Caen airfield, then German transportations (goods trains) and lorries in Gaumont. In short it meant ….Sweeping the roads in preparation for the invasion.

My ‘plane, Spitfire MK IX B reg. NN-B was was hit by a explosive shell, whilst we were flying at zero height, skimming the tree tops. My engine started to smoke, and lose power, so I was forced to crash-land in the woods below me. It was called Cerisy Boa in-between St Lo and Baleroa.

I got out with just a few bruises, and made hasty depart from the site, because there was gun-firing rather close.

After 3 days on the run, I stopped a lady cyclist in a country lane to enquire about the amount of Germans in the area, and when she wanted to know why, I have told her, that I was an RAF escapee. She told me to hide there, and cycled back to a near-by village. In about three quarters of an hour later she came back with a man riding a horse and cart. They covered me with straw and potato sacks, and brought me to a farm, where I was met by three, slightly nervous men. They questioned me, fed me, and then locked me up in room in the loft. The following evening, I was brought down, and introduced to the Chief of the resistance in that area named Monsieur Pique.

Karel, in his civilian clothes with M. Pique.

I was welcomed and told, that they were in contact with the RAF, that they established my identity. With a recommendation for me to stay with them until we were liberated. (Originally, my plan was to make my way to Gibraltar to emulate my previous Flight Commander, who in 1942 returned to operational flying after 4 months from the day he went down in Northern France.)

I changed into civilian clothes and stayed with them. However, after the invasion started, and Allies advance halted for regrouping, the Germans were bringing reinforcements and actually arrived in to our place, which caused us (M. Le-Chartier, who was my host at the time, and myself) to scramble out through the back door.

I realised, that if I was captured there with them the Germans would shoot the lot of them including women and children. That was the normal procedure at that time.

Karel, with Mme. Pique.

After consultation with the Chief, I have decided to make my way across the front. On the 20th June 1944, M. Pique took me and two other men (Canadian soldiers who were avoiding capture by the Germans after the invasion) a considerable distance, risking his life if he was captured with us. He stayed until he had guided us across the road to Caen. There he had to leave us to find the rest of the way on our own.

We seemed to be heading in the right direction, but after about an hour, we were stopped by a German officer who appeared from a small path followed by German soldiers. He wanted to know who we were and what we were doing there. I told him we worked there. He ordered us to go through the back door into a nearby empty house, and left a soldier to stand guard over us outside the back door. As he was leaving I noticed that he was semi hiding, avoiding being seem from the lane, which was right in front of this house.

After a short time, we crept out, one by one through the front door into the lane opposite while the guard stood guarding the back door. The lane was heavily lined with thick hedges, which made it slightly easier to keep going.

Suddenly we heard the German soldier shouting, and that was the time we got separated. I jumped into a thick hedge on the opposite side field to hide.

Since we did not leave the house together I could not tell how the Canadians finally faired. Fortunately at that time the Germans did not follow us. I believe the Canadians may have been luckier because they were at the time ahead of me in the lane.

I stayed motionless until the evening, only to experience a heavy artillery bombardment of the zone by the Allies. It was very close and unpleasant.

After it became dark, I heard movements in the lane behind me, so I crawled across a field between dead animals, but then I discovered, rather too later that this was also mine field.

By then, I had no option, and carried on all night in what I thought was right direction.

At first light, I was approaching camouflaged possitiourand I crawled right up to the hedge. There I thought, that I have made it, but I held back making any noiset in case one of the soldiers on duty was trigger happy.

Then I was choked to hear one of the soldiers speaking in German.

By then it was full daylight. I could not back track, so I lay there until 7 a.m. when one of the Germans, while moving the barrel of his machine gun spotted my feet and pulled me down.

I was brought in front of a officer, who sent me to their field HQ guarded by three soldiers.

There an SS officer took over questioning me. He promptly declared me a spy and terrorist to be shot. The usual procedure – name, rank and number was to him totally irrelevant, because I was captured in a German position wearing civilian clothes.

They searched for my parachute, according to his assessment, it would. be impossible for me to come there unless somebody was previously hiding me there.

The following day, I was handed over to the Gestapo and moved to the dungeon in what used to be a fort tower Alencon where I spent ten days in a black cell with unpleasant bouts of interrogations.

I managed not divulge vitals, especially about my possible helpers, which seems to be at the time, their priority.

From there I was moved to Gestapo HQ in Avenue Foch, Paris, for further interrogations, commuting to Fressnes Prison. From there they moved us to a prison in Wiesbaden in Germany, and finally to a civilian prison in Mainz. By then there were about forty of us in civilian clothes.

At the end of August 1944, they were forced to evacuate our prison in what seems to be a great hurry at midnight. During our transportations we were always handcuffed to a chain and made to stand during our journey.

This time, they rushed us out of our cells, and handcuffed us twenty to a chain, without any particular order. It appeared to us, that they are going to carry out the threats, they have been promising to us all along.

Our column of twenty was the first out of prison rushed on the double to a rail station, led by our Gestapo Fuhrer with a gun in each hand. But, I think, he made a mistake when he brushed aside a directive by a German Field policeman to go to different part of the station, shouting that he had a batch of criminals to transport.

He led us to a platform where there was already a train load of prisoners of war. This was supervised by a high ranking German officer who was showing off in front of representative of the Red Cross.

He wanted to know who we were, and we shouted that ‘We are the R.A.F.’

There seems to be a great urgency to move everybody out, so they put us, still chained with with the other P.O.W’s on the same train for further investigation.

That brought us to Dulag Luft interrogation centre at, the beginning of September 1944.

The date of my arrival and condition, still in civilian clothes to the P.O.W. camp is clearly visible on the photocopy of my ‘kreigsgefangenenkartei’ borrowed from the camp in 1945. This was the first time the Germans informed the International Red Cross of my existence. Eventually, we finished at Stalag Luft VII at Bankau, near Kluczbork, in Upper Silesia, Poland.

Karel Valášek

In January 1945, with Russians advancing, we evacuated this camp, and were marched 120 miles through Sagan – Wittenberg to Stalag III-A, near Luckenwalde, 30 miles South of Berlin.

Towards the end of April 1945, I left this camp with colleagues, and we reached the American lines. They flew us to Brussels, from there by train to Lille aerodrome and from there, by Lancaster bomber to England on 5 May 1945. On arrival to England we finished in 106 P.R.C. Centre at Cosford. The R.A.F. part of personnel Receiving Centre had my past records correct, including my promotion to P/O.

From there I traveled to the Air Ministry in London for de-briefing (I think it was section P5). There I have learned, that they did know roughly about our movements in France and Germany. Also during my de-briefing, the RAF Officer in charge, wanted to know all the details about people involved in helping me to avoid my capture. I have gladly given him the names of all, as far as I know, except one, and that was the name of the lady cyclist, who first delivered me into the resistance circle, and that is because I never knew her name.

His final comment was ‘we are all deeply indebted to those brave patriots’

But when I enquired about some colleagues with whom I have shared cells in different prisons, I was told that those, who were tied to the second chain during the evacuation of Mainz prison, finished in a civilian concentration camp where they perished.

During my final interview at the Air Ministry, I learned was told, that in the situation like I was in, they did not give any information out, even when known, that I was alive and with the resistance, or in case of those, just captured wearing civilian clothes. That person was simply listed listed as missing, until there was positive news from the other side through the International Red Cross. In my case, this happened in October 1944.

During my crossing of the front line that night, I missed my freedom by only fifteen degrees. I discovered later, when the Germans were moving me around, that the front line at this point was shaped into almost a half circle.

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Spitfire AR501

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Michael Burns charts the crowded history of the Shuttlesworth’s Spitfire V AR501. ‘Flypast’ artist Bill Bennett produced the superb cutaway.

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SUPERMARINE SPITFIRE MK V, AR501 was built in 1942 as a Mark VC, one of a production batch of 300 Spitfires ordered under Contract No. 1305/40 of August 1940 from Westland Aircraft, Yeovil, Somerset. Serial range of the batch was AR212 to AR621.

Originally ordered as 300 Mark I’s, but typically, as modification and more powerful Merlin engines became available, the contract was modified several times to cover the production of later marks. The batch was delivered from July 11, 1940, and comprised: 50 Mark IAs, several of which were later converted to PR Mark IV and Mark V standard; 140 Mark VBs, of which two, one during production and one later, were converted to Seafire Mk IBs by Westland, and another was later converted to PR Mark XIII; and 110 Mark VCs, of which AR501 was one.

Most of the Spitfires from this batch, following delivery to Maintenance Units, were sent to the Middle East and (Mark VCs only) to Australia, two Mark VBs AR511 and AR567, were delivered to the Portuguese Air Force. Westland built a total of 685 Spitfires, 50 Mark Is and 635 Mark Vs, before concentrating on Seafires.

As an F Mark VC, the prefix indicating a general altitude fighter, the suffix that it had the universal armament wing, AR501 was fitted with a Rolls-Royce Merlin 46 engine, developing 1,415 hp maximum, with an altitude rating of 19,000 feet.

AR501 was delivered to 8 Maintenance Unit (MU) at Little Rissington, Glos, on June 22, 1942, and passed to 6 MU, Brize Norton, Oxon, on July 7, which issued it to 310 (Czech) Squadron, RAF on July 19. The squadron was based at Exeter, Devon, and commanded by Squadron Leader F. Doležal, DFC. AR501 was on occasions the CO’s mount.

Doležal had escaped from German occupied Czechoslovakia to France in 1938. Joining the Armee de l’Air, he destroyed two German aircraft in combat during the Battle of France before fleeing to England in June 1940. Quickly converting to Spitfires, he flew with 19 Squadron during the Battle of Britain, destroying a further three German aircraft and claiming two as probably destroyed. Posted to 310 Squadron in January 1941, he was promoted to the rank of Squadron Leader in April 1942, and became the Squadron’s CO.

310 had formed at Duxford, alongside 19 Squadron, on July 10, 1940 on Hawker Hurricane Mk Is, as the first Czechoslovakian squadron in the Royal Air Force. Declared operational during the height of the Battle of Britain, it began to convert to Spitfires in October 1941.

Although AR501 flew with the squadron on routine coastal and convoy patrols (Jim Crows, after a ship’s look-out) in 10 Group, Fighter Command’s air defence area, 310 Squadron had gone over to the offensive in July 1942, in common with other offensive based fighter squadrons. It undertook regular fighter sweeps, designed to provoke the enemy into the air to be shot down, and to force the Luftwaffe to deploy in France fighter, ground defence and support units required elsewhere, and, also, to harass the enemy and show the roundels.

Circus operations were flown by one or more wings of fighters in support of medium bomber attacks, and were carefully orchestrated. Rhubarbs, flown at low-level (‘down among the rhubarb’) were single sections of two or four aircraft slipped across the Channel under poor weather cover to attack anything they found of the enemy’s war machine. Essentially spontaneous, but requiring Group approval, the results achieved by Spitfires on Rhubarbs did not justify the losses of aircraft and pilots to ground fire.

On August 18, 1942 came the largest offensive operation in the North-Western Theatre since 1940 with the exploratory and disastrous Operation Jubilee, the amphibious landings of British, Canadian, and a few American troops at Dieppe.

RAF gave close air support, fighter cover, and diversionary support throughout the landings, and largely prevented the Luftwaffe from attacking the choice array of destroyers, transports and landing craft, although the Luftwaffe’s tardy response contributed to the RAF’s in success. 310 Squadron was heavily engaged in Operation Jubilee, covering anti-E-Boat Hurricane sorties, and providing air cover over the troop landings. The squadron claimed one enemy aircraft destroyed, and three probably destroyed, and six damaged in this operation.

Doležal, possibly flying AR501, claimed a Do217 probably destroyed and one FW 190 damaged. It was the first time that the FW 190 had been encountered in force, and it was evident from the pilot’s reports and was superior to the Spitfire Mk V. Only the Hawker Typhoons, committed to action for the first time in force also, matching it a fortnight later, on 28 August, Doležal shared in the destruction of a Bf 109E, although not in AR501.

Operations from the West Country thereafter were increasingly hampered by the autumn weather, and by the end of the year 310 Sqn had reverted to its earlier defensive role. It flew anti-Jabo patrols against the Luftwaffe’s high speed, low-level FW190 and Bf 109 Jabos (fighter bombers) which were making hit-and-run raids against coastal installations. Chances of interception were remote, and the unit claimed no victories during this phase.

Selected items from AR501′s Operations with 310 Squadron:

10/09/42, S/Ldr F. Doležal, Green Section:

Rear cover for 4 Whirlwinds. from Bolt Head. Set course 175° for 18 min climbing to 18,000′ orbiting for 15 min did not see 312 Sqn, returned to Exeter.

Time Up/Down: 18:30/19:40

18/09/42, S/Ldr F. Doležal, Red Section:

Squadron took off from Exeter for Non-operational formation practice. At ll:35 ordered to intercept 6 bandits over Teignmouth, being told shortly afterwards that they were at Danmouth. Sqn at 8,000′ above 10/10th cloud. Doležal ordered Sqdn to regroup diving through cloud arrived 15 miles E of Dartmouth – followed coast for 30 secs – 2 FW 190s seen 1½ miles distant flying S.E. at 3000′. 310 at 1000′ turned left and right in pairs abrest behind e/as of whom 4 more were seen 2 travelling S., rest S.E. Sqdn chased and fired at range of 250-700 yds. No results observed. With Sqdn full out FWs left Spit VC standing. Sqdn. ordered to return. Disappointed!

Time Up/Down: 11:15/12:05

08/11/42, F/Sgt V. Popelka, White Section:

Air-Sea Rescue search for P/O Doucha missing after baling out of AR502 25 mls. S.W. of Eddystone Light after being attacked by FW190 on 7/11.

Time Up/Down: 8:35/10:10

22/01/43, F/Lt R. Borovec, White Section:

Anti-Rhubarb patrol off Torquay.

Time Up/Down: 10:10/11:50

23/01/43, S/Ldr E. Foit, Red Section:

10 Group Ramrod 48 – bombing Lorient supplying cover at 23,000′.

Time Up/Down: 12:35/14:15

26/01/43, W/O F. Trejtnar, White Section:

Wing to escort l2 Venturas, set course at sea level until 50mls. from French coast – climbed to 11,000′ near Ile de Batz. Owing to low cloud mission cancelled.

Time Up/Down: 14:50/16:15

27/02/43, F/Lt H. Hrbáček, Red Section:

low cloud mission cancelled, From Predannack Foryess & Liberator raid on Brest (Ramrod 54). Engine found cutting at height returned to base.

Time Up/Down: 13:45/15:30

Prop, exhaust stubs and rear-view mirror, all non-standard on a Mk V and explained in the test (Duncan Cubitt)

On December 1, 1942 AR501 went for minor repair in works at Air Service Training. Awaiting collection on December 3, 1942, it was again on the charge of 310, still based at Exeter, two days later. In January Squadron Leader F Vancl took command of the squadron, remaining until March 1943.

The unit again returned to offensive operations in January and on January 29 was involved in a complex fight over Merlaix airfield, Northern France. The squadron lost two pilots, but claimed an FW destroyed and one probably destroyed and one damaged. However, the squadron’s main orientation was shipping and convoy patrols, with sweeps when called upon.

While parked in a dispersal some 200 yards off the runway, AR501 was hit by Mosquito PR3 DD634 at 1100 hours on March 15. The Mossie, from 307 (Polish) Squadron, careered off the runway during an overshoot. AR501 (and Merlin 46 90621 A.339581) was damaged to Category B status. It was issued to 67 MU at Taunton on March 22, and moved on for repair in works by Westlands the following day. It was ‘awaiting collection’ on July 3.

AR501 was taken on charge by 33 Maintenance Unit Lyneham, Wilts, on July 17, 1943 and then by 3501 Servicing Unit at Cranfield, Beds on August 6. 310 Squadron had been transferred to the North of Scotland in June and had also re-equipped with Spitfire HF Mk Vls.

However, on August 18 AR501 was issued to 504 (City of Nottingham) Squadron, based at Church Stanton (Culmhead), Somerset since June 1943.

Under 11 Group, 504 was on offensive operations over France, led by Sqn Ldr P J Simpson DFC. However, 504 was being transferred to Redhill, Surrey, and converting to the new Spitfire Mk IXs. It is unlikely that AR501 bore 504′s code. ‘HX’. and on August 20, 1943 AR501 was taken on charge by the Station Flight.

AR501′s combat career, however, re-opened on October 10, 1943 when it was taken on charge by 312 (Czech) Squadron, which had arrived at Church Stanton in September following some months based at Skeabrae, providing air defence for the Royal Navy’s Home Fleet base at Scapa Flow, Orkney Islands.

Sqn Ldr A Vybíral was succeeded as CO by Sqn Ldr F Varnel DFC, in November 1943. The squadron was engaged on bomber escorts from its arrival at Church Stanton, protecting the increasing number and weight of bomber raids across the English Channel against V-1 rocket launching sites.

A number of other aircraft from AR501′s production batch, including AR550 and AR614, also served with this unit. The Squadron transferred to Ibsley, Hants, in December 1943, remaining there until February 1944 when it moved to Mendlesham, to convert to Spitfire Mk IXs.

On February 26, AR501 was transferred from 312 Squadron to 144 Fighter Affiliation Flight and was allocated the following day to 422 Squadron, RAF Coastal Command, a Short Sunderland equipped maritime patrol unit at Castle Archdale, Northern Ireland, AR501 was probably used for fighter affiliation and for acclimatising air gunnery, and aircrews, to fighter attack (see notes).

On March 30, 1944 AR501 was taken on charge by 58 Operational Training Unit, based at Grangemouth, Midlothian. AR501′s front line days were now definitely over, the Mark V being obsolescent in the North West European Theatre, 58 OTU was one of the OTUs disbanded before mid-1944, and it seems likely that AR50l was struck offcharge shortly before the unit closed, and only shortly after the aircraft’s arrival.

On April 26, 1944 AR501 was taken on charge by I Tactical Exercise Unit, based at Tealing, Angus, I TEU had formed on October 3, 1943 from 56 OTU. which had in turn been formed from 6 OTU at Sutton Bridge on November 1940, moving to Tealing on March 27, 1942.

AR501 was re-allocated to 61 OTU on July 4, 1944, and I TEU ran-down and disbanded on July 31, 1944, 61 OTU had been based at Rednal, Salop, since April 15, 1942 and used Spitfire Mks I, II, V and IX, Miles Magister Mk IIs, Harvard Mk IIIs and Mustang Mk IIIs.

Sketch to show the flap arrangement on the MkV. (Bill Bennett)

AR501 suffered a Category B Flying Accident on September 9, and on September 22 was delivered to Air Service Training at Exeter for repair in work. AR501 reappeared as an LF Mark VC, with the fitting of a 1,585hp Merlin 45M, essentially similar to the medium altitude 45 and 46, but rated for low-altitude duty, and ‘clipping’ the wings to improve low-altitude performance by removing the wing tip panels and substituting a wooden or metal fairing, incorporating the navigation/formation lights. It made its first test flight following conversion on November 22, 1944.

During this period of repair and conversion, AR501 also acquired a number of features normally only seen on late production Mark Vs and Mark IXs, which contribute to making AR501 an interesting survivor. It was policy to update aircraft that came in to service units for major repairs, but in any case, by 1944 many replacement Mark V parts would have been to later specifications.

AR501 was fitted with six ejector stub exhausts on either side of the Merlin instead of the earlier standard Rolls-Royce triple ejector exhaust manifold with which she had previously been equipped, and her narrow blade propeller was replaced by a broad root unit Both these changes accompanied the Merlin 45M.

When AR501 was struck off RAF charge in 1946 she also had a number of other modifications from her original specifications, which were almost certainly made during this period of repair and conversion, because there was not substantial opportunity, or requirement, later. An elevator with horn balanced tips of increased area and accordingly modified stabiliser were fitted, aiding low-altitude performance. IFF aerials between the fuselage and tailplanes were replaced by a rod aerial below the starboard wing panel. A later style windscreen with an internal bullet proof screen superceded the earlier external screen. Link-type oleo legs were fitted, together with ‘bowed’ undercarriage doors that enabled the wheels to sit lower in the wells when retracted and thus eliminated the bulges on the upper main planes over the wells, but two stiffening strakes were rivetted over the panel above the wells, which was a service modification.

View at Duxford showing the strengthening strips on the wing. (Bill Bennett).

It should be noted that it is a Spitfire’s fuselage centre section – the monocoque – which carries the continuity of its identity. The tail section, engine bearers and engine, and starboard and port main wing panels could each or all be replaced, and were, but the Spitfire would still bear the same manufacturer’s construction number and RAF serial number as before the interchange, for all practical and record purposes.

Other noteworthy features on AR501 today are a rectangular type rear-view mirror (fitted in 1968), and the lack of a formation light behind the radio mast and of a radio wire from radio mast to rudder, and of a support for a radio wire on the rudder.

AR501 was listed as awaiting collection from Air Service Training on 23 November 1944 and on 2 December 1944 she was flown to 33 MU at Lyneham, pending allocation. She was taken on charge by the Central Gunnery School at Catfoss, Yorks, on April 24, 1945. A taxying accident on July 15, necessitated the fitting of new propeller No. 21435. Flight time with CGS at this point was only nine hours 35 minutes.

On August 22, 1945 AR501 was ferried to 29 MU at High Ercall, Salop, for storage. On March 21, she was declared suprlus to RAF needs and struck off charge.

AR501 escaped the melting pot and was flown to the Department of Aeronautical Engineering at Loughborough Technical College, Leics, by Flt/Sgt D R Reynolds on March 21, 1946. At this point Merlin 45M No.702 70239/N80732 fitted had logged sixteen hours forty minutes. Total airframe hours for AR50l came to 511 hours, 35 minutes.

At Loughborough AR501 was a training airframe for students, along with Hawker Hurricane KX829, a Sea Hurricane Mk I Z7015 and a Grumman Martlet AL246 until it was given on permanent loan to the Shuttleworth Trust, based at Old Warden Aerodrome, Biggleswade, Bedfordshire, where it was stored and also displayed to the public in static condition.

Busy scene at Loughborough with students working on AR50l. Martlet 4L245 in background - now at Yeovilton. (Peter R Arnold collection).

When AR501 arrived at Loughborough, it was fitted with the Rotol RX5/10 (broad root) prop that was fitted at Catfoss in July 1945. (The Form 70 for this prop runs as follows: Sent to 35 MU following repair and overhaul, received January 31, 1944. Sent to Hutton Cranswick March 1, 1944 and returned to 35 MU April 26. To Catfoss on December 13, 1944). This prop was swopped with Sea Hurricane Z7015, and AR501 took on a DH narrow blade unit Z7015, now at Duxford, still has this prop. It is thought AR501′s prop came from MK IV KX829, indicating a complex swop-around at Loughborough.

In 1967 Hamish Mahaddie of Spitfire Productions Ltd was collecting together aircraft for the film Battle of Britain. He had gathered nine airworthy Spitfires – five Mark IXs, one Mark XIV, and two PR XIXs, but only one early ‘short-nose’ Spitfire, Mark VB AB910 (G-AIST), lent by the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight for the film.

As the budget permitted it Mahaddie decided to restore to flying condition three early mark: Mark I AM213 (G-AIST), purchased from Air Commodore Allen Wheeler who had had it in store at Old Warden; Mark IIA P7350 (G-AWIJ), an exhibit at RAF Colerne which the RAF made available and which was presented in airworthy condition to the Memorial Flight after the film, fittingly; and AR501, which was loaned by Shuttleworth.

Restoration to airworthy condition was undertaken by Simpson’s Aeroservices and Spitfire Productions Ltd at RAF Henlow, Beds. Like the other aircraft in the film, AR501 was entered on the civil register, as G-AWII, by her new operators, Spitfire Productions Ltd of Pinewood Studios, Iver Heath, Buck. AR501 flew some fifty hours during the film, in various guises in spring and summer 1968.

For the Battle of Britain, AR501 was given full elliptical wing tips replacing her clipped wing tip fairings, which were inauthentic for the 1940-period. Her cannon were removed, as only one squadron of Spitfires, 19, used cannon-armed Spitfires, Mark IBs, and for only a few days, during the Battle.

Spitfires in the films were allocated fictitious squadron codes, selected to ensure that none had been used in the Battle itself, of ‘AI’, ‘CD’, ‘DO’ and ‘EI’, and were allocated serials in the range N3310 – N3329, originally allocated by the Air Ministry to Boulton Paul Defiants, but which had not been taken up.

Unit codes were made of a self-adhesive Fablon materia| and could be stripped off after each flight and replaced by other codes, because only twelve Spiifires – roughly two-thirds of a 1940 squadron’s strength – took the role of the whole of Fighter Command. However, the code’s colour was a slightly inauthentic shade of the Medium Sea Grey used for the 1940 codes – white!

After filming was complered, AR501′s briefly acquired wing tips were returned to their donor aircraft and it was ferried by Dickie Millward to RAE Bedford for storage on behalf of the Shurtleworth Trust via a low level display at Old Warden. At RAE she remained until she was dismantled and flown to West Germany for use by the Canadian Armed Forces at a colour presentation ceremony.

At RAE Bedford following use in the film

AR501 returned to the UK in the same manner as she had departed, in the hold of CAF C-130 Hercules. The Herc brought the Spitfire to Duxford for complete rebuild. Note: Stuart MacConnacher is not convinced of the allocation to 144 FAF, no matter how brief. A signal from HQ 2nd TAF dated February 15, 1944, transfers AR501 to 144 Airfield (Digby) for three new Canadian units (441, 442 and 443) being formed there. 144′s ORB shows the first Mk Vs arriving on February 19.

AR501′s record card shows onword transfer to 422 Squodron os February 27. Stuart believes this to be a clerical error for 442 Squadron, which was of course then at 144 Airfield. The next transfer, to 58 OTU, coincided with the 144 Airfield ORB showing requipment of its units with Mk IX Spitfires. Stuart points out that all things are possible since 442 Squadron was an RCAF unit and who better to borrow a Spitfire for fighter affiliation from than a working-up Canadian unit The 422 Squadron ORB made no mention of Spitfires, but on February 20, 1944, Sunderland III W6028 crashed during a fighter affiliation exercise).

At this point Stuart MacConnacher takes up the story of AR501′s restoration at Duxford.

Rebuild started in 1973 with a group of enthusiasts who eventually became a joint Duxford Aviation Society/Shuttleworth Veteran Aeroplane Society group known to all as the Spitfire Crew. Leading lights were Keith Taylor, Bob Tinkler and Steve McManus – becoming some of the most knowledgeable amateur Spitfire/Merlin restorers in the UK.

My role was liaison link with the workshops at Old Warden and the aircraft’s historian.

Very rare shot of AR501 wearing its civil markings - briefly at Duxford. (Stuart MacConnacher)

The crew’s aim was total authenticity including matt paint finish to correct shades, wheel covers and restoration of the cannon stubs which had not been thrown away after the removal at Henlow. With Peter Arnold’s help a gunsight was obtained from Canada and the cannon fairings which attach to the stubs were a fortunate find in the Old Warden stores. believed to have been from a Mk XVIII.

The only area where we could not change AR501 back to our desired restoration of Squadron Leaders Doležal’s 310 Squadron aircraft of October 1942 was the wing tips and the propeller. This era was chosen as it was the high-point of its career and the fact that both Doležal and 310 Squadron had Duxford connections was a bonus.

We never obtained any wartime photographs of AR501 which might have influenced our choice of markings. Research carried out in 1970 at the AHB had shown that no individual code letter was easily obtainable. The concensus we arrived at was that by cross-checking known serial number/code letter tie-ups with Peter Arnold our choice of ‘D’ for Doležal and Duxford did not conflict over the dates of AR501′s service with 310 Squadron.

The Czech emblem on the cockpit sides cannot be confirmed but the use of the code letter under the nose was a common feature at the time. The quest for authenticity by The Spitfire Crew went as far as the gun patches where red doped patches of linen were used rather than the neatly taped bright red squares usual at the time.

AR501 flew again in the hands of Niel Williams on June 27, 1975 – a tribute to those who rebuilt her at Duxford and those airmen from Eastern Europe who fled their homeland and helped us in hour of need.

Reproduced from the May 1986 edition of Flypast with kind permission from the publishers, Key Publishing Ltd. www.flypast.com

Karel Stastny – PoW

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The account of W/O Karel Šťastný, a pilot with 311 Sqn, as a Prisoner of War, by M. Vincent:

Almost from the outset, Karel’s crew was to become acquainted with anti-aircraft fire during bombing raids, but there was none that 18th night of July, 1941 as they droned high over the Netherlands, bound for Bremen. Without warning, the bomber was suddenly buffeted in a violent oscillation – triggered, it seemed, by an explosion under Karel’s seat. In immediate reaction, Karel strained to bring the ‘plane back on to a level course, until it became obvious that it could neither regain height nor be counteracted in its downward trend. The bomber’s erratic behaviour, combined with the flames now flaring into the fuselage behind, prompted Karel to make an urgent roll-call. The crew was intact, but the fire was spreading and a bomb-laden Wellington was no place to tarry, so Karel gave the command to bale out. Once the last of his crew had jumped, Karel struggled out of his seat and clambered in defiance of the ‘plane’s diving tilt towards the nearest means of exit. The bomb-aimer’s trap door, directly behind his seat, was already open and he hurtled through its flaming outline, braced to experience his first parachute descent. Instead of dropping like a stone, he was sharply jerked to a halt, almost hanged by the cables of his intercomm and oxygen mask, which he had forgotten to disconnect. There he dangled in the slip-stream, held fast by the taut flexes across his throat, already raw from breathing acrid smoke – while the heavy Wellington gathered momentum in its earthward plunge.

Summoning every last ounce of his might, he managed to lever himself back aboard, free the restraining cables and plummet once more out of the now spiralling inferno. Had not they been cruising at an altitude in excess of 18,000 feet, it is virtually certain that a lesser descent of the bomber would have taken Karel with it into the crash. Miraculously none of their number was seriously injured, but they held little hope of retaining their liberty, when their flaming ‘plane and its subsequent crash, was certain to have aroused German Occupation Forces into a thorough search for survivors.

One feature of the night’s dramatic events was clearly imprinted upon Karel’s mind: that there had been no flak, he was convinced. Experience had taught him that even a close miss was invariably accompanied by the noticeable. Instead, the explosion was within the ‘plane itself, directly under the Captain’s seat and Karel was never known to retract his conviction that it was the dastardly work of a saboteur.

PRISONER OF WAR

The blazing aircraft had most certainly alerted German troops and it was only a matter of hours until tracker dogs in the charge of armed soldiers, had located every crew-member. By truck, they were then taken to Germany – to Stalag Luft IIID at a place called Sagan.

Stalag Luft III, Sagan.

The huts were large ones with double bunks accommodating some 40 men. Conditions were harsh in the extreme. Food was appallingly inadequate, the German interpretation of a prisoner’s daily food allowance (within the terms of the Geneva Convention) amounting to a mere 1/12th of a loaf of bread (3 thin slices at most), 3 small potatoes and a bowl of soup. Even this scanty meal was further depleted, when, at the finish of their stored season, many of the potatoes were rendered quite inedible. Frequently and especially in hot weather, the so-called soup was rancid and could only be consumed when the nostrils were pinched together. The onset of winter lowered despondency to a new madir as their under-nourished bodies strived to ward off the bitter cold. Had it not been for the weekly distribution of Red Cross parcels, the sick-list would surely have reached greater proportions. These parcels sustained them in spirit as well as in body, providing a link with the outside world with a silent rally of hope that this limbo state would not last forever.

The parcels came, in turn, from three sources – Great Britain, Canada and the United States of America – portions being, not surprisingly, more liberal from the two North American countries than those out of strictly-rationed Britain. The contents averaged a small tin of butter, cheese, meat, powdered milk, and dried eggs, sardines, jellies, some chocolate and forty cigarettes. A certain meat loaf seemed, even to their deprived palates, overly lacking in a reasonable meat-content and gave rise to a joked threat that, after the war, they would unitedly seek out the supplier named on each tin and shoot him as an enemy agent.

It was soon after being taken prisoner that Karel decided to grow a beard and this image he was to maintain for the duration of his captivity, except for a few occasional and brief resorts to his razor. Even then, he retained the substantial moustache, without which, he never was seen thereafter.

Stalag Luft IIID expanded, with the erection of additional huts within its confines and new arrivals swelled the roll-calls. In mid-October 1942, a track brought in a batch, who had just been discharged from hospital care, among them, Zdeněk Sichrovský. If prisoners they must both be, then it was good that they were together, but Karel was distressed to see such change in his old friend and gradually to learn the details of the dreadful crash, which had almost cost Zdeněk both his limbs. His Wellington bomber had received a direct hit from anti-aircraft fire, after a raid on Bremen, killing his navigator and wireless operator outright and extensively burning the other crew members. Zdeněk himself had been catapulted heyond the ‘plane by the impact of the crash, thus escaping burns, but not severe injuries embracing 9 broken ribs, a in both legs. In hospital in Tibburg (Holland) the German doctors had, in fact, recommended amputation of both legs below the knee, but, encouraged by the experienced optimism of a Dutch nursing nun, he elected instead, for the long and painful treatment by surgery, plaster casts and traction. It had taken nine months to patch him up and the suffering endured was clearly evident as he painfully struggled for mastery of ambulation.

STALAGLUFT I – BARTH

Stalag Luft I, Barth.

Only a few days after Sichrovský’s arrival, the entire camp was transferred by cattle truck, to Stalag Luft I, sited at a place called Barth. It was a much smaller compound, with smq1 ler huts, each divided into three rooms. A room held three bunk beds, a w stove, a table and 2 benches as well as a cupboard in which, they stored the combined contents of their food parcels. They had discovered that it was advantageous to pool the food items and had nominated Sichrovsky their chef, he having proved himself the most competent cook amongst them, capable of serving some remarkably palatable snacks from even this, very limited, larder.

Zdeněk Sichrovský, on right, at Barth.

Another useful accomplishment, was Sichrovsky’s skill in watchrepairing. No doubt in consideration of his physical incapacity, permission was granted for him to receive two boxes of watch parts from the Red Cross in Geneva. Karel made a small lathe for him and they were in business.

Most of the prisoners engaged in some pursuit; some painted pictures saved up the foil wrapping within cigarette packets, smelted it down into a base metal and from this, all manner of objects were, with considerable artistry, created. Such was the wealth of talent in and support for, this particular craft, that an impressive exhibition was eventually staged, the array somewhat dominated by a grotesque death-mask of none other than Sichrovský.

This outward show of resignation to their plight, was a concealment of a further hive of industry, namely the assembly of contributions towards escape projects. German uniforms were duplicated, after painstaking unpicking of British ones, each piece then carefully pressed and re-fashioned, using the reverse side of the fabric, thus effecting a close resemblance to the material worn by a Deutsch soldier. Metal buttons were cast from plaster moulds. Papers were stolen, ‘borrowed’ or bartered and the temporary ‘loan’ of a typewriter allowed moulds of all type-face to be taken, for subsequent compilation into the rubber stamps, so imperative for authenticity in identity and travel documents.

ESCAPE 1

It was one matter to prepare for escapes but another to survive the manifold hazards which undoubtedly lurked in the alien territory beyond Camp. That much, Karel had, to his chagrin, learned when he made his first bid for freedom in the summer of 1942, out of Stalag Luft IIID.

Under cover of darkness, he and another prisoner had accomplished an undetected exit, after cutting their way through the double perimeter wire fences. Not until many miles separated them from the Camp did they slacken their pace, having navigated themselves to a predetermined Railway. Momentarily, they lay amid shrubbery on the embankment, to regain their breath and decide in which direction might lie the nearest signals, where a train might have cause to slow down. A goods train did just that and once hidden beneath the tarpaulin cover of a wagon, they allowed themselves a small measure of congratulatory elation that they had made it and were speeding in the direction of Czechoslovakia. Fate however, was to deal a capricious hand. After some time the train’s erratic shunting behaviour and a prolonged halt tempted Karel to risk a careful survey of their whereabouts and to his consternation, he saw that they had been shunted into the loading yard of what was surely, a German Munitions Factory. Here security was maximum – not only was the yard brightly illuminated beneath its blacked-out roof, but sectional walls were topped with barbed wire and amongst the small array of workers already unloading the train, he could discern numerous aimed guards. By comparison, escape from Stalag Luft IIID had ben relatively simple and there could be no unobserved retreat from this highly secure bulwark.

ESCAPE 2

The severity of a German winter, with its snows and extreme cold was a formidable deterrent to further escape speculation. Karel recognised only too well, the rigours of life on the run and the greatly reduced chances of success, in inclement weather conditions. In any case, he had to await spring to avail himself of the particular means by which he hoped to quit Barth Camp.

Among the inmates of Stalag Luft I was a percentage of civilian refugees of Russian extraction – non-combatants whom war had buffeted into a slave labour situation here at Barth, their days spent in wearisome agricultural toil whenever weather allowed, in return for one unappetising and barely sufficient meal, at the end of each day.

The opportunity of escape, by changing places with one of these refugees, was an obvious one, but fraught with the danger of recognition by a guard or even betrayal.. Karel waited and watched, before making his choice of a likely co-operator, meanwhile hoarding his own Red Cross parcels, to the sacrifice of any complementary meals. One morning in early summer, he hurriedly relinquished his bribe and donned the garb of a fieldworker, taking his place in their sullen ranks, tense and expectant that the ruse would fail. But it succeeded and from the open fields he edged gradually to the cover of nearby shrubbery and ultimate woods.

He deemed it imperative that he remain isolated from civilisation and essential, therefore that he travel only at night. In his present refugee clothing he lacked the protection afforded by his uniform should he be apprehended and could be shot as a spy. A second day passed in hiding, the hunger pangs which plagued him barely relieved by gnawing on a few raw potatoes gleaned from a field.

The stars guided his north-easterly route towards Czechoslovakia. Some fugitives from P.O.W. Camps opted for a route to Yugoslavia and many did, in fact, reach that country to fight again with the partisans. But Karel pressed steadfastly homewards, each 24 hours of freedom setting the seal on success. His diet remained raw vegetables, potatoes or turnips mostly, but drought conditions roused the more pressing torment of thirst. He would not permit himself to venture near farms where there might be water troughs or barrels – such places also had people and worse, vigilant dogs.

Into his third week of freedom he was crazed by thirst, until mercifully a ground mist formed one dawn and he lay on the moist grass greedily sucking the droplets of dew. As his panting gradually abated an unbelievable sound reached his ears the tantalising gurgling of water – and soon he was floundering in the shallow depths of a vastly evaporated river bed.

With his thirst satiated and aglow from the cold dousing, his spirits rose as he lay in a hiding place re-assessing his chances. It was his 17th day of freedom – surely he was rid of the pursuing search-parties which had undoubtedly been sent forth after him from Barth. His reckoning told him he might well be within one more night’s trail of the border. Surely thus refreshed and spurred by this anticipation he would cross into his homeland before another dawn. In this state of reassurance he discreetly spread his clothes to dry in the heat of the day while he drifted on into an oblivion interspersed with dreams of home-coming.

The sun was in its zenith when Karel was startled back to consciousness by the proximity of two dogs sniffing around him. Beyond them, with steady gait, the figure of a man approached, a broken shot-gun resting easily in the crook of his right arm. Karel scrambled to his feet, but the man made no move to cock his gun and was still very much in charge of the obedient hounds. As he questioned Karel, his accent revealed him to be a Czech. and an apparently innocent gamekeeper engaged on his daily patrol. Karel felt himself weakening with relief, yet could not dispel a nagging mistrust of the shelter offered and promise of subsequent assistance in a clandestine crossing of the border, which, as he had calculated, was but a few miles distant. How prudent was his instinct, for even before they cleared the spinny a dozen and more German soldiers ran to meet them and Karel realised that his discovery had actually taken place earlier, either as he slept on or perhaps he had been spotted as he bathed in the stream. It was just too’coincidental, to suppose that a truck-load of armed soldiers had been passing. Feelings of disappointment over this 11th-hour disintegration of all his endeavours and dejection at the prospect of further captivity, took time to develop in him. For the moment, his whole being was consumed by a loathsome contempt for the fellow-countryman who, so readily, had abused his trust and stooped to betrayal. Karel managed to convey his disgust for the traitor, before rough hands were laid upon him and brutal blows rained upon his face and head, from the riflebutts of his captors. Thus ended his 17-day liberty – further misery and deprivation awaiting him in a dark, lone cell back in Barth.

His prolonged absence had, understandably, encouraged an assumption of his success, among the inmates of Stalag Luft I. His re-appearance, after such an interval, therefore had a decidedly shattering effect on the few onlookers who witnessed his return. Not only did the revelation of his failure depress them, but they were deeply shocked to note the battered face that rendered him barely recognisable.

Four weeks in solitary confinement was the customary punishment for re-captured escapees. Karel knew only too well, from memories of Sagan, what was in store for him. It meant survival on the most meagre amount of swill to keep him vacillating on subsistence level and no more. And again, he found himself glad to gnaw on fragments of coal, in a vain attempt to stave off the gripes of overwhelming hunger – his sole comfort being the few crusts tossed through his window in sympathetic token, by a band,of prisoners led by Sichrovsky. But, with grit, he withstood this destitution and the long month ended at last.

Czechoslovak PoW's Stalag Luft I, Barth, 1945, Karel Šťastný middle row 2nd from left

A THIRD ESCAPE

Incredibly, Karel was not defeated by the two unsuccessful escapes, for indeed, failures they had not been, both beset by cruel and unexpected twists of fate.

He was determined to try again and preparations were put in hand. For months he hoarded and bartered chocolate bars, to fill the little attache case which was to be an essential accessory to the role he contrived, namely that of a civilian worker. It was getting on for winter, but he planned to travel by train as fax as possible, thus trusting that the somewhat shabby trousers, jacket, cap and scarf procured for him would suffice. Finally, the forged papers and a small amount of money were available and he was ready to go.

His secret plan was confined to the few friends whose assistance he needed to help smuggle his disguise to the Ablutions Block, where, after the other prisoners had showered and departed, Karel remained in hiding, to wait out the tense hours until darkness descended. He then made his way toward the double fences, carefully timing each spurt between the sweep of the searchlight, cut a small hole in each of the grills and gained cover of the scrub, some distance beyond. Momentarily he thought “so far so good” and permitted himself to wonder how long might his freedom last this time, before grimly pressing on into the night.

It seemed suddenly strange to walk along a proper tarmac road. He tried to adopt an air of nonchalance through the outskirts and into the town, which was now astir for the day’s business. He had breakfasted on some chocolate, which only served to confirm his fear that such a diet was going to prove monotonous, if not downright sickening. Still, this independent food supply obviated the risk involved in contact with shopkeepers, cafes and even the ubiquitous German Militia – nor did he have money to spend on ought but travel. As it was, his meagre resources would hardly get him far and he might well have to resort to less than honest tactics, to cover the considerable distance he intended. He would exercise maximum caution until he gauged the risks and he noted, with relief, that his guise did not seem to arouse any undue attention.

It was not his dress which gave him away, but a simple irregularity in his papers. From time to time, the German Authorities introduced additiinal or re-styled endorsement stamps to up-date passes, in an effort to tighten the net cast to catch deserters and other fugitives. Unfortunately, Barth’s Escape Committee had not been acquainted with the latest of these alterations and the discrepancy came to light when Karel chanced to be selected by a Railway Policeman during a random document inspection. It was at the barrier as an anxious crowd jostled to pass through to the waiting train. A foul stroke of luck it was for him to be one of those waylaid, just as it was a crushing blow to be thus intercepted in Sudetenland so close to Czechoslovakia and safety.

Examination of his attache case only condemned him further and he was transferred into Civil Police custody, incarcerated in a cell beneath the Police Station, for several days while they verified his true identity. During this detention the only food he received was bitter, raw, salt fish while all liquids were denied.

From this private hell, he was almost glad to withdraw to a top-security Prison Camp – in reputation, second only to the infamous Colditz, there to know a third term of the obscene injustices of solitary confinement.

DISBANDMENT

A new year dawned, bringing with it an abundance of rumours for the prisoners’ speculation. News filtered into the Camp of successive Allied victories and the increasing certainty that Germany was on the brink of defeat. It was 1945 and a March morning brought dramatic confirmation of these stories, when the entire Camp seemed to erupt in a fever of activity. Since daybreak lorries had been trundling out of the gates and soon the prisoners were urgently aligned and marched out, under escort, soon to overtake streams of fleeing civilians. Everyone-and everything moved in an easterly direction – the rout was on.

As far as the eye could see the road ahead was clogged, but gradually the Army lorries hooted a passage through, taking all food supplies with them. Many of the prisoners were already under-nourished and weakening visibly under the demands of such unrelenting physical exertion, without sustenance. Hunger pangs attacked Karel too but he was not slow to recognise a potential meal when a cat happened along. Without hesitation he wrung its neck, skinned and dressed it, to provide a meal when a cat happened along. Without hesitation he wrung its neck, skinned and dressed it, to provide a meal surely to be tolerated by none but the utterly desperate.

Fitful sleep was snatched by the roadside and another daybreak saw so many automatons force themselves into a reluctant resumption of the gruelling trek.

Mid-morning brought an unexpected jolt from their torpid nightmare, when, out of the sky behind them roared a singlefile formation of fighter ‘planes, each in turn, swooping low over the straggling column and strafing its length – the machinegun fire scattering the dazed pedestrians into the ditches on either side. When Karel sensed their passing he raised his head and clearly saw the insignia on the last ‘plane – ironically the star of the United States Air Force. Threat, though these undoubtedly brought, their presence was nonetheless reassuring, for it promised the close proximity of Allied Forces. And rescue was indeed at hand, when, soon after American ground forces caught up and took them into welcome care.

The end of hostilities in Europe did not take place for a further 7 weeks, but for Karel, the war ended that April day. He underwent several postings; from a Prisoner Release Centre he moved on, in mid-May to a Czech. Depot; two months later, he joined a Group Pool and finally from R.A.F. Station Manston, in Kent, England he took his farewell of the Royal Air Force under repatriation to Czechoslovakia, just two days before Japan capitulated.

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Karel Bednarik

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Karel Bednařík

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* 19 December 1920

† 26 February 2011

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Karel Bednařík was born on 19 December 1920, in Holešov in the Moravian region of Czechoslovakia. In 1934, after completing his eight years of compulsory schooling, he left school and trained to be a tinsmith. He then went to work at a armament factory in Továtna. Following the ‘Munich Agreement’, the Germans occupied Czechoslovakia on 15 March 1939. Very shortly after the armament factory reduced its production and Karel was made redundant. He was now 18½ and had no wish to be a burden to his family so when in April, some older friends suggested that he joins them and go to Germany to work he took the opportunity.

They worked in East Prussia and on 25 July returned home, by train, for a holiday. The train journey from East Prussia to Moravia involved travelling through the Polish Corridor – a strip of Polish land between East Prussia and Germany. Relationships between Poland and Germany were by now already strained and the Germans would not permit any of the passengers to leave the train when the locomotives were changed for the crossing East Prussia into Poland and again when they left Poland to cross back into Germany. The Polish authorities however were less vigilant and as they were leaving Poland, Karel and his companions, noticed a Czech worker climb out of the train and stay on the Polish side of the border. This action inspired Karel and his friends to do the same themselves and between themselves they agreed that on their return journey to East Prussia they would also leave the train and remain in Poland.

On 4 August 1939, at the end of his holiday, Karel said goodbye to his parents and departed with his companions by train back to East Prussia. At Czew station, where the train crossed into Poland they got off the train and made their way to Crakow.

Czechoslovak escapers at Czew, August 1939,
Karel Bednařík kneeling first right

Here they reported to the Czechoslovak military legation who transferred them to Maly Bronowice, where escapees from Czechoslovakia where being assembled to form military units. Due to indifference from the Polish authorities about using these Czechoslovaks in their own military units, arrangements where made, with the French Government, to transfer the Czechoslovaks to France. French law did not allow for foreign nationals to serve in its own armed forces, the agreement was that these Czechoslovaks would have to enlist, for a five year period, in the French Foreign Legion. If and when war broke out they would be transferred back to French units. Karel’s group sailed on 19 August from Gdynia and 3 days later they disembarked in Calais, France.

They were then transported to barracks in Lille, where following a basic medical examination, they signed to join the Foreign Legion, and were sent to Fort Saint Jean, Marseilles to await transportation to Algeria. Whilst on their arrival in France, they were greeted with a large feast, they were always made to feel ‘inferior’ by the French authorities. They were next transported to Oran, Algeria from where they were taken by train to the notorious Legions training camp at Sidi Bel Arbes.

On arrival here they were overjoyed, when catching up on the news, that war had been declared which meant that would be serving in French military units instead of the Foreign Legion. The Czechoslovaks were dispatched back to France to join French military units. In Karel’s case he reported to Agde, which was an assembly camp for the Czechoslovak military personnel. Despite France now being at war with Germany, Karel was disappointed that the French attitude towards the Czechoslovaks had not changed.

At Agde he was initially assigned to the 3 Company, 1st Infantry Regiment and shortly after transferred to 1 Company 1st Infantry regiment. On 16 November Karel requested a transfer to a communications course, he successfully completed the course on 25 January 1940. He was promoted to the rank of Corporal and posted to the 2nd Infantry Regiment as a signalman.

Karel Bednařík, France Spring 1940.

In May 1940, due to the rapid advance of the German forces, the French sent more re-enforcements to the front line. Before Karel’s unit was sent to join the re-enforcements, Karel was transferred to the 4th company of the 2nd Batallion and the unit was sent to defend the left bank of the river Marne at the beginning of June 1940. When the unit arrived at its position on the Marne each soldier was given 8 rounds and ordered to defend the position. With an overwhelming German force attacking and no realistic means of defending, the inevitable retreat followed and the unit was forced to withdraw and they retreated to the southern French port of Sète. France capitulated and the new Vichy Government had pledged to and over all Czechoslovak troops to the Germans. Under those conditions it would have effectively been passing a death sentence to those Czechoslovaks.

Before this could happen, Britain and the Free French managed to organise ships to evacuate the Czechoslovaks and have them transported to England via Gibralter. In Karel’s case, his unit was evacuated on the Egyptian ship ‘Rod el Farag‘ on 28 July 1940 and 2 weeks later the ship reached Liverpool. From there, the Czechoslovak troops were transferred to Cholmodeley Park at Chester where they where initially based whilst new Czechoslovak units were formed within the British military forces. Karel always had had an interest in aircraft and when there was a call for volunteers to join the RAF he quickly applied. His application was accepted and he joined the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve as a trainee wireless operator.

In Spring 1941 he had succefully completed a course as a air gunner and because he had achieved high results in night vision tests he was selected for night fighters. On 14 May he was posted to 96 Sqn., a night fighter squadron based at RAF Cranage, at Middlewich, Cheshire, flying Boulton Paul Defiant’s Mk 1. Here he crewed up with another Czech, Sgt František Chábera who was to be his pilot. During this period they had a unconfirmed ‘kill’ of a He 111.

Karel Bednařík, England 1941.

In September 1941, the two were transferred to the newly formed Czechoslovak Flight in 68 Sqn., a nightfighter squadron, bassed at High Ercall, Shropshire, flying Bristol Beaufighter Mk IF’s. In the Sumer of 1942, Chábera’s tour of duty finished, Karel’s new pilot was Jan Šerhant. Karel’s own operationial tour of duty finished in February 1943., he had flown 386 hrs 55 m during this tour. He was promoted to the rank of Warrant Officer and, following some leave, was posted to RAF Unsworth for training as a as a navigatior/radar operator instructor. He successfully completed this training and was posted to the OTU at Winfield and later at Charter Hall.

In October 1943, Karel started a new operation tour and was posted to RAF Cranfield where he joined his new pilot P/O Miroslav Štandera, also a Czech. They rejoined 68 Sqn on 1 March 1944 now based at Fairwood Common, South Wales, and flying Bristol Beaufighter VIf’s, They had an ominous start to this tour with two crash landings within a few days of each other. The first was on 18 April after the start of a night flight in V8740 (WM-Z). Just after take-off, at an altitude of only 6 mtrs, the starboard engine failed and they made a belly landing in a clearing about 1km away from the airfield. Neither of the crew were injured in the crash.

A few days later, on 27 April, during take-off in V8592 (WM-E) at 17:05 for a test flight, a tyre burst. They had to spend the next 80 minutes circling the airfield until the last of the day fighters had returned from a sweep over northern France. Štandera then made a belly landing at the airfield and again both crew escaped uninjured.

68 Sqn was actively flying sorties in support of the D-Day landings on 6 June 1944. In July 1944 the Squadron retrained to use the de-Havilland Mosquito. They now undertook a new role of trying to destroy the new threat of V1 missiles before they hit their targets in London. Due to the rapid Allied advance in Europe, the requirements for night fighter squadrons over England declined. On 20 April 1945 68 Sqn. was disbanded and on 2 May, Karel, now a Sergeant, was posted to the Czechoslovak Depot at RAF Cosford.

Karel returned to his homeland in August 1945 aboard a Liberator bomber from 311 Sqn. Initially he remained with the new Czechoslovak Air Force. On 1 January 1946 he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant but he chose to be demobilised which happened on 13 March 1946. He returned to his native Holešov and was employed as the manager of a cinema. He had a good job and was planning to get married.

His plans were dramatically changed following the Communist coup of February 1948. On 27 February 1948, the President of the Workers Union came to Karel at the cinema and told him that this was his last day of work at the cinema. About an hour later the President returned and said that he would be permitted to continue working until his replacement had been trained. Bednařík refused and immediately left his job. He quickly got himself a job as a sales representative for a local textile company. Bednařík realized that under the new regime there was little chance for those who had fought in the West, for the liberation of their homeland, and decided to go into exile again.

On 15 March he was in Prague and visited his friend Josef Machek, together they discussed the possibilities of escaping to the West and started to make their escape plan. Machek then travelled to Aš, a town near Chleb, Czechoslovakia which was close to the German border. His inquiries there found that there were possibilities to covertly cross the border to Germany.

Machek returned to Prague and Karel and he decided that they would try to cross the border on 25th March 1948 and invited a 3 close friends to join them. Karel married his fiance Anděla Hajniková on 23rd March 1948 and the following day the seven members of the escape group – Karel with his wife, Machek with his wife Vlasta, Miloslav Kratochvíl, ex-310 Sqn Pilot with his Jaroslav and Fr. Vojtěch Rygal – travelled to Aš. On arrival there, they contacted the man who was due to help them cross the border. He advised them that he had been tipped off that he was due to be arrested by the StB for facilitating illegal border crossings to the West and that they would be better to cross the border on their own.

They then approached the Chairman of the local Sokol group for help. He suggested they contact two German women but unbeknown to the escape group the two women were working for the StB. The escape group, led by two women, left that night and started to make their way towards the border but were led into a trap where the StB were waiting. Initially Karek and Anděla managed to hide in a hedge to avoid capture, but the StB men knew that seven people were in the escape group an searched till they found them in hiding. All the escape group had been arrested. Bednarik spent the next three months in jail in Aš and Chleb, the jail was overcrowded with twenty people being held in a cell meant for only four prisoners. Anděla was held in jail for a month. Fortunately for them, Klement Gottwald, the newly elected Communist President of Czechoslovakia, announced an amnesty for some political prisoners, and Karel was released in June 1948. However he was still kept under investigation by the StB and he was reduced to the rank of Private in a Engineering Regiment. He was only permitted to do menial work whilst Anděla found she was ‘unemployable’.

In the Spring of 1951, Karel was summoned to Court charged with ‘anti-state activities’ and the judges were intent on passing a severe sentence on him. In the trial the prosecutor conceded that the claimed law breaking activities by Karel had not been proven and he was sentenced to prison for the period he had already spent in detention at the time of his arrest in 1948. He was however ordered to work in the mines but because he was suffering from chronical bronchil inflammation the mines Doctor would not even permit working in a surface mine. Instead he worked at Stavomontáže a contruction company in Zlín. The authorities also tried to pressurise him into renouncing his RAF decorations but he refused and retained these medals.

At the beginning of 1963. Karel was visited at home by a stranger who identified himself as a member of the StB. He was ordered to get dressed and go with him to be questioned. During the interrogation they wanted to know why he went to England in 1939, the names of people who he was in contact with in the ‘Society of Friends of Great Britain and the USA’ (a post WW2 society in Prague comprising manly of Czechoslovaks who had served in the West during the war). Karel named three known Communists to which one of the StB men said “We know that you don’t like Communists” to which Karel replied: “Why should I not like Communists, I like all decent people.”

They then tried to pressurise Karel to become a StB informer saying that “People know you and have confidence in you.” Karel refused saying that “I would make an awful informer, I move amongst the ordinary people and I could not have it on my conscience that someone would imprisoned because of a silly joke.”

Karel was released but expected this incident to have dire consequences for him, but instead he remained just like all the others who were disliked by the Communists following the February 1948 ‘putsch’, he lived on the edge of the society, with miserable salary, kept under constant StB surveillance and in isolation from the other RAF members.

Following the ‘Velvet Revolution’ in 1989, he along with his former Czech RAF colleagues were Politically Rehabilitated on 13 September 1991 in Prague. Karel was promotd to the rank of Colonel (retd.) in the Czechoslovak Air Force.

He died in his native Holešov on 26 February 2011, aged 91.

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The assistance of Milan Votava with this article is very much appreciated.

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Article last updated 8 September 2011

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Jaroslav Novak celebrates his 90th birthday

Plk. let. Jaroslav Novák slaví devadesát!

Dne 6.6.2011 oslavil velké životní jubileum statečný voják, letec a úspěšný fotograf plk. let. Jaroslav Novák, žijící v Austrálii.

On 6 June, 2011, Col. retd. Jaroslav Novák, a brave soldier, airman, and a successful photographer will celebrate his 90th birthday. He now lives in Australia.

Bratr Jaroslav Novák, se jako student pražské techniky účastnil studentských bouří v roce 1939, po nichž se rozhodl opustit naší zem a postavit se nacistům tváří tvář. Útěk nebyl jednoduchý, zima, vysílení a neznámo přineslo mnoho problémů, které ho mnohdy málem stáli život. Vytrval však. Na Slovensko-maďarské hranici byl chycen, na Slovensku odsouzen, ale před vydáním gestapu se mu podařilo uniknout.

Jaroslav Novak, as a student in Prague participated in a demonstration against the Nazi’s in 1939, after which he decided to leave his homeland and fight against the Nazis. His escape was not easy, it was cold, exhausting and brought a lot of unknown problems that nearly cost him his life. But he persisted. At the Slovak-Hungarian border he was caught, and returned to the Slovak Republic, but before the Slovaks were able to hand him over to the Gestapo, he managed to escape.

Přes Maďarsko, Jugoslávii, Řecko, Turecko, Libanon se dostává do Bejrútu, kde podepisuje závazek cizinecké legii. Ve Francii dostává rychlý výcvik a je poslán se spojovací rotou bránit Paříž. Statečně bojuje na Marně, Seině, Loiře a dalších místech. Německé jednotky se nezadržitelně sunuly vpřed a Čechoslováci do posledních chvil držící své pozice museli ustupovat též, aby nebyli obklíčeni. Záplavou uprchlíků, hořícími vesnicemi, kolem lidí umírajících na cestách… Francie požádala o příměří.

His route took him through Hungary, Yugoslavia, Greece, Turkey, to Beirut in Lebanon. Here he had to sign a undertaking to join the French Foreign Legion before he could continue to France. In France, he received some quick training and his Czechoslovak Army unit was sent to defend Paris. His Company fought bravely at the Marne, Seine, Loire and elsewhere. They were unable to stop the forward advance of the German units and eventually the Czechoslovaks were unable to hold their positions and had to retreat to avoid being surrounded. They retreated amongst the flood of refugees, burning villages, about people dying on the road.

Francouzi si mohli oddechnout, Čechoslovákům jako občanům Protektorátu však nezbývalo, než dále ustupovat a pokusit se z Francie uprchnout.   Skupina, ve které Jaroslav sloužil se postupně dostala až do malého přístavního města Sète. Po delším vyjednávání se nalodili na egyptskou loď Rod el Farag, na jejíž palubě jako poslední odpluli směrem k anglickým břehům…

France requested an armistice. For the French the war was over, but the Czechoslovaks as citizens of the Protectorate, however, had no choice but to retreat further and attempt to escape from France. Jaroslav’s group, finally reached the small Mediterranean port of town of Sète. After prolonged negotiations, they were able to board the Egyptian ship ‘Rod el Farag’ which then took them to English shores.

V Británii je poprvé povýšen 28.10.1940 a poslán do důstojnického kurzu, dostává nabídku pro speciální výcvik, ale Jaroslav chce k letectvu. Stává se navigátorem slavné 311. čs. bombardovací perutě. S jeho talismanem Bobbym nalétá u perutě  47 nebezpečných pobřežních hlídek a útoků na námořní cíle nepřítele. Po odlétání operační túry je přemístěn k dopravnímu letectvu a léta s VIP pasažéry do Indie. Jen málo našich letců se může pochlubit takovou bilancí.

Now in Great Britain, on October 28, 1940 he was sent on an officers training course and whilst on the course he was offered the opportunity to go on a special training course. Jaroslav instead wanted to join the RAF and passed a Navigators course before being posted to 311 Czechoslovak Squadron who where part of Coastal Command. He was given his lucky mascot ‘Bobby’ and together they flew 47 operational flights patrolling the seas and attacking enemy naval targets. When he completed his operational tours he was posted to 47 Sqn. who were in Transport Command. Here he was involved in flying VIP passengers to India. Only a few Czech pilots can claim such varied activities.

Po skončení války držitel 3 válečných křížů, medaile za chrabrost a dalších československých i spojeneckých vyznamenání pomáhá obnovit dopravní spojení republiky. Avšak poměry v naší mírové armádě jsou dosti odlišné, prožívá roly „zapaďáka“ již od podzimu 1945. Po opakovaných problémech s velením a šikanou opouští své milované letectvo.

By the time the war had ended he had been awarded 3 Czechoslovak War Cross’s along with other medals fro valour and distinction from both Czechoslovakia and Great Britain. He returned to his homeland and served in the Czechoslovak Air Force. However he found that peacetime service in the Air Force was not to his liking and with additional problems with his superiors he decided to leave the Air Force.

Rozhodne se opustit republiku. Jako obchodní zástupce působí v Jihoafrické republice. V roce 1951 se přesune do Austrálie, která se stává jeho domovem. V Austrálii nejprve pracoval v obchodě s fotografickými potřebami v Sydney. Časem převzal místo obchodního ředitele v Newcastlu. Zde také získal australské občanství. Fotografování a práci s fotografií doslova propadl, dosáhl i velice zajímavých úspěchů. Stal se členem APS (Australian Photographic Society), byl členem několika výborů a jezdil po okolí jako rozhodčí ve fotografických soutěžích, dával přednášky o fotografii a fotografování ve veřejných klubech a organizacích. Za svoji práci získal postupně nejvyšší ocenění Mezinárodní fotografické federace (FIAP - Fédération Internationale de l’Art Photographique), jednalo se o AFIAP (zasloužilý umělec neboli Artist FIAP) a ESFIAP (za životní službu-Excelent Service FIAP).

He decided to leave his homeland and went to South Africa where he worked as a manufacturers agent. In 1951 he moved to Australia which was to become his new home. Initially he worked in a photographic shop in Sydney. He advanced in that business and finally he owned the business. He gained Australian citizenship and continued to have personal success with his own photography. He became a member of APS (Australian Photographic Society), judged in local photographic competitions as well as giving lectures on photography to clubs and organisations. For his photographic work we was awarded several top photography awards as well as membership of Fédération Internationale de l’Art Photographique (FIAP) with AFIAP (Artiste FIAP) and ESFIAP (Excellence FIAP pour Services rendus) distinctions.

Druhým velkým koníčkem se stalo Jaroslavu Novákovi opět létání. Nestydím se říci, že Jaroslav má prolétaný australský kontinent jako málokterý Australan. Stručně řečeno, Jaroslav je letec tělem i duší…

Another big hobby for Jaroslav was flying. I am proud to say that he flew extensively around Australia in his light aircraft. In short, flying was Jaroslav’s body and soul.

Jaroslav Novák nyní žije v klidném domově pro seniory  v Cardiffu, NSW. Pokud mu zdraví dovolí, účastní se seminářů a předává dál odkaz boje za svobodu světa mladší generaci. Jaroslav byl letos navržen městem Benátky nad Jizerou s podporou ČsOL jednotou Liberec na státní vyznamenání. Doufejme, že návrh bude úspěšný. V nejbližší době, též vyjde kniha „Přisolíme si!“, jež pojednává o Jaroslavově dobrodružném životě. Co nyní popřát Jaroslavovi? Hlavně hodně zdraví a stálého životního optimismu.

Jaroslav Novák now lives in a Care Home for the elderly, in Cardiff NSW. When his health permits, he still participates in seminars so that the younger generation are informed of the worlds struggle for freedom. This year he was nominated for a State award by his hometown of Benátky nad Jizerou, the nomination was supported by the Liberec branch of ČsOL (Československá obec legionářská). Hopefully the nomination will be successful. In the near future he will be publishing his book „Přisolíme si!“ which is about his adventurous life. What do we now wish for Jaroslav? Mainly good health and his usual optimism on life.

Za ČsOL Liberec Jan a Milan Votavovi
From ČsOL Liberec and Jan a Milan Votava.

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Bristol Beaufighter

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As the 1930s proceeded, aeronautical technology was developing at a pace which numerous British companies had been unable to fully grasp.  The Bristol Aeroplane Company had taken its own step into the future with the design and production of a twin engine executive passenger aircraft.  Known as the Type 142, it first flew in April 1935.  A military option soon appeared, known as the Type 142M and in due course was given the name ‘Blenheim’.  It was designed as a bomber but was used in a number of roles in the early stages of WW2, including as a night fighter.  The company then exploited its new found expertise in a variety of military projects, one of which was the Beaufort; a general reconnaissance bomber/torpedo bomber and mine laying aircraft.  The Beaufort entered RAF service in December 1939 and continued operating in small numbers until 1944.

By the time of the Munich Crisis, in September 1938, it was disturbingly apparent that Britain was deficient in a number of key military airborne capabilities.  The RAF lacked performance, capacity and range in both fighters and bombers and in the night fighter role.  The Bristol Aeroplane Company had, by that time, entered a design theme phase, notably the use of a stressed skin structure throughout with a high aspect ratio wing, carrying twin radial engines.  Bristol visualised that a long range escort fighter could be developed from the Beaufort, using a high degree of component commonality.  The ungraceful lines of the Beaufort were cleaned up and modifications made to the airframe and engines, to give a long range escort fighter that could also function as a night interceptor.

Work on the new Type 156 design, given the name ‘Beaufighter’, was initially conducted without Air Ministry support but in November 1938 the company received a contract to build four prototypes.  The required performance was to be met using the Hercules III engine being developed by the Bristol Engine Company; a relatively new powerplant which was in short supply.  The Hercules was a 14 cylinder, two-row, sleeve valve, air-cooled radial engine.  The first Beaufort flight took place on 17 July 1939.  It achieved a top speed of 335 mph at 16,800 ft at a low weight of 16,000lb.  At realistic operating weights, the performance figures proved disappointing.  To reclaim the situation, the Rolls Royce Merlin engine was prescribed but this was also in short supply, being urgently needed for the single seat fighter production lines.  The engine company responded by accelerating its Hercules development programme.  Mk I production Beaufighters went on to employ the Hercules XI engine, able to deliver 1,500 hp using high octane fuel.  This enabled the Beaufighter to match the performance of the Hawker Hurricane.  It was appreciated early on, that the aircraft was unsuitable as a daytime home defence fighter but that it would meet the principal operational requirements of a night fighter, inclusive of its specification for a 2 man crew.

The first production Beaufighter came with heavy armament for its day, having four 20mm Hispano cannons mounted in the nose.  By the 50^th unit off the production line it also carried six Browning 0.303mm wing mounted machine guns – four starboard and 2 port.  Operating as a night fighter, the aircraft’s excellent firepower was allied to its good payload capacity.  This enabled the (initially) heavy and bulky AI (Airborne Intercept) radar to be carried, whilst offering a good duration and range for engaging Luftwaffe bombers at night.  Beaufighter delivery to RAF night interceptor squadrons commenced slowly in September 1940.  The cannon ammunition was drum fed, requiring the second crew man to manually change the limited capacity drums.  In September 1941 it was modified to use a belt fed system.

The first night operations preceded the fitting of the AI radar, demanding whatever ground support was available, such as searchlight and observation, together with aircrew vigilance.  The AI radar greatly improved the engagement probability and this gain continued as the system was developed.  During 1941 the aircraft was exacting a worthy toll against night bombing raids.  Its most impressive achievement was on the night of 19/20 May 1941, with 24 London targeting Luftwaffe bombers acquired and engaged.

As the balance of forces changed, the Beaufighter became available for new duties, such as night time intruder missions into occupied France, to attack German airbases.  With the build up in aircraft numbers, it was deployed for both day and night missions against varied target types.  The progress of the war found the aircraft used for long range fighter cover, anti-shipping and ground attack.  To add to its very effective cannon fire, the Beaufort was developed to carry bombs, torpedoes and under-wing rocket launchers, with a maximum take-off weight then exceeding 25,000 lb.  In this adaptive role, it played an important part in both the Mediterranean campaigns and the Far East.  The Japanese gave it the nickname of ‘Whispering Death’ because the low noise from its Hercules engines allowed it to fly in quietly prior to the attack.

Almost 6,000 Beaufighters were manufactured, inclusive of those built under licence in Australia.

Version:
Mk IF	May 1941 to Feb. 1943
Mk VIF	Jan. 1943 to July 1944

Bristol Beaufighter VIF :

Powerplant:	Two Bristol Hercules VI 14 cylinder air-cooled sleeve producing 1,635 bhp maximum power.
Performance:	Maximum speed 333 mph at 15,600 feet, ceiling height 26,519 feet, range 1,479 miles at 190 mph.
Weight:	Empty 14,619 lbs, Max. take-off weight 21,627 lbs.
Dimensions:	Wing span 57 feet 10 inches, Length 41 feet, 8 inches, Maximum height 15 feet 10 inches.
Armament:	Four 20mm Hispano cannons mounted mounted under aircrafts nose, Six 7.62mm machine guns in wings
Crew:	2

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© 2011 Victor K L Marshall M Sc, C Eng, M I Mech E

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Czechoslovak Prisoners of War

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Stalag Luft I, Barth, February 1942, Urba Petr, Novotný Emanuel, Kopal Gustav, Knotek František, Šesták Augustin.

For members of the Czechoslovak Armed Forces during WW2 the possibility of German captivity represented an extreme personal risk. Czechoslovakia had been broken up before the war started and, from the viewpoint of the legislation of Nazi Germany, it did not present an entity under international law. The Nazi authorities ignored the fact that the Czechoslovak Government in Exile was gradually being recognised by a number of countries in the anti-Hitler coalition, as well as the fact that it had formally declared war on Germany. The Nazi judiciary thus qualified the raising of arms against the ‘mother empire’ as high treason (pertaining to paragraph 91 of the Reich Criminal Code).

A specific group of Czechoslovak soldiers in German captivity consists of Czechoslovak airmen, members of the Royal Air Force, who endured captivity in British, rather than Czechoslovak, uniform, which gave them fairly effective protection from Nazi reprisals. During the course of the war a total of 52 of them were captured by the Germans. After they were brought down by hostile fire over enemy territory, they were sent to the Dulag Luft transit camp in Oberursel near Frankfurt am Main, as was the case with other allied airmen. Here they underwent routine intelligence interrogations (during which their nationality was usually uncovered by their RAF service numbers), after which they were sent directly to one the prisioner-of-war camps (with the exception of the first Czechoslovak crew to have been been brought down). Initially as a rule they were sent to Stalag Luft I camp in the north German town of Barth on the Baltic coast, the first camp specifically designated for airmen, and to a lesser extent also to Stalag VIIIb camp in the Silesian town of Lamsdorf (today Lambinowice in Poland) or the Stalag IXc camp in the Thuringian town of Bad Sulza, while some officers were sent to the Oflag XXIb camp in Schubin (today Szubin in Poland). Starting in April 1942, the vast majority of Czechoslovak captives were progressively concentrated in the newly opened Stalag Luft III prisoner-of-war camp for airmen in Sagan (now Źiagań, in Poland). In October 1942 they were split into two because the decision had been taken to make Sagan a camp exclusively for officers. All 23 Czechoslovak non-commissioned officers (NCO’s) were thus transported to the Stalag Luft I camp in Barth. In November 1943, the majority of them were transferred from Barth to the Stalag IVb camp in Mühlberg. Only eleven NCO’s thus remained in Barth. Only Czechoslovak officers continued to remain in Sagan, later they were joined by a few others. The majority of Czechoslovak airmen brought down in 1944 were then placed in the Stalag Luft VII camp in Bankau (now Baków, Poland).

Stalag Luft III, Sagan.

Stalag Luft I, Barth.

The Nazi judiciary attempted to apply the infamous paragraph 91 of the Reich Criminal Code already against the first Czechoslovak airmen captured in September 1940. After an interrogation in the Dulag Luft camp in Oberursel they were not released to join the other inmates, but instead a warrant was issued for their arrest and on 28th September 1940, they were initisally placed in custody in the Berlin-Alt Moabit civilian prison and then in the Berlin Tegel remand prison. However the trial by the Reichskriegsgericht (Reich War Court), which was originally set for 18th February 1941, was suddenly adjourned. In fact, the British Government had intervened via the institute of Protecting Power, threatening to take severe retaliatory measures, and this led to the temporary termination of the prosecution. After they were released from Tegel prison (on 18th September 1941), the airmen were sent to prisoner-of-war camps and later they all met up in the Stalag Luft III camp in Sagan.

František Burda

Thereafter the Germans treated captive Czechoslovak airmen in more or less the same manner as other members of the RAF. This was largely due to the Senior British Officers (SBO’s), who made determined representations both at the level of German camp commanders, and with representatives of Protection Power, asserting that Czechoslovak airmen were British prisoners-of-war and that they must be treated in the same way as Britons. In particular, this was the case with W/Cdr Harry M.A. ‘Wings’ Day (SBO in Dulag Luft later in Stalag Luft III camp), G/Cpt D.E.L. Wilson (Stalag Luft III). Among other supporters of Czechoslovak airmen, the following should be mentioned: Brig. Gen. Somerset, S/Ldr J. Smith (both in Oflag IXA/H camp), W/Cdr T.D. Ferres (Stalag Luft III), W/O J.A.G. ‘Dixie’ Deans (Stalag Luft III), W?O T.K. May (Stalag Luft I), Lt. Alan B. Campbell (Oflag IVc) and others.

Alois Šiška, prisoner 39654

However, in the summer of 1944, the issue of prisoners-of-war to a large extent also became a matter for the ‘department’ of the Nazi security apparatus and it was at this time that the Nazi judiciary made a final attempt to reckon with ‘the Czech perpetrators of high treason’. Despite the fact that the Geneva Convention expressly forbid such measures, a total of 24 Czechoslovak airmen were arrested between 23rd July and 25th August 1944, in the camps Stalag Luft I (Barth), Stalag Luft III (Sagan) and Oflag IVc (Colditz) and they were dragged off to the Gestapo Headquarters in the Protektorat Böhmen und Mähren in Prague. Although this concerned all the Czechoslovak airmen held in the Barth, Sagan and Colditz camps, at the same time they accounted for only half the Czechoslovak RAF members held in captivity. The remainder remained scattered in other camps and their turn never came. Why this was remains unanswered. It cannot be excluded, however, that German war bureaucracy had in the meantime lost information about them.

While being interrogated by the Gestapo, the arrested airmen were held in the Gestapo prison of Pankrác, Prague, later however, they were sent to the military prison at Hradčany, in Prague, which indicated that the entire matter was to be handed over to the jurisdiction of the Wehrmacht. Designated for death by capital punishment, they were then transported from Prague to the prisoner-of-war camps Stalag Luft I (Barth) and Oflag IVc (Colditz), from where they were to be sent to the Reich War Court, whose verdict, given the circumstancesm was known beforehand. Reports about the trial under preparation reached Britain via Protection Power (Switzerland) in October 1944, The arrested airmen, having found themselves in a no-win situation, claimed that ‘they had taken an oath of allegiance to the King and were British Subjects.” Strictly speaking, from the viewpoint of international law, it was a disputable claim. On the basis of a legal analysis by the Home Office, the Foreign Office announced to the Czechoslovak Government on 16th December 1944 that in joining the RAF, “these Czechoslovak prisoners could not have obtained British nationality.” Of course this was only confidential information and in this matter the British “showed the lengths to which they were prepared to go if they would have any effect on the Germans.” In other words – they were willing to make a deliberate statement to the effect that consider Czechoslovak airmen captured in British uniform to be British subjects. In relation to this, the Foreign Office sent a dispatch on 5th February 1945 to the British Ambassador in Bern “drawing his attention to HM Government’s serious concerns at the danger to which these Czechoslovak prisoners were exposed and pointing out that we did not admit that they were German subjects or liable to accusation of treason. Having sworn allegiance to H.M. King, and having served in the British Forces in British uniform, they should be treated under the terms of the Geneva Convention in exactly the same way as British prisoners-of-war,” and requested him to pass this viewpoint. At this occasion the British Ambassador was given an order to ask the Swiss Government “to make immediate communication to the German Authorities on the above lines…and to add that H.M. Government would regard any prosecution for treason as illegal, and that the persons responsible would have to answer for their activity after the war.”

The British protest did not remain fruitless, though there’s no doubt that the approaching end of the war, of which the winner was now certain, was a primary contributing factor. It is likely that the German Army justice officials concerned did not wish to compromise themselves before the future victors of the war. Reich Military Attorney terminated the criminal proceedings with the proviso that “the hearing should only take place after the war”. At the time, however, it must have already been obvious that such a trial was purely hypothetical. As early as 1943 the Allies had declared that they would only accept unconditional surrender by Germany and under such a situation there was certainly no prospect for a purely hypothetical trials with ‘Czech traitors’ after the end of the war. The decision of the OKW can thus on the one hand be understood as an effort to keep face before the Allies and on the other as passing the buck so as not to aggravate the Nazi security sections.

Václav Kilian

The majority of captive Czechoslovak airmen were released from prisoner-of-war camps Oflag IVc in Colditz (16th April 1945) and Stalag Luft I in Barth (1st May 1945) by the advancing allied armies, the remainder at about the same time, mostly after long and exhausting evacuation marches in advance of the approaching eastern and western fronts. After this they were repatriated by air to Britain where they recovered from the hardships and experiences of German captivity.

The only exception was F/Lt Arnošt Valenta, formerly a wireless operator of the No 311 Czech Bomber Squadron, who had been captured on the night of the 6th February 1941. He was one of the main protagonists in the legendary Great Escape from the prisoner-of-war camp Stalag Luft III in Sagan on the night of 24th and 25th March 1944, when 76 Allied air officers (including 3 Czechs) managed to escape via a underground tunnel codenamed Harry. Only three of them made it to Britain, however. The remaining 73 were captured and on Hitler’s command 50 of them were murdered by the Gestapo, regardless of their nationality. F/Lt Valenta was murdered by a Gestapo commando unit at the crossroads between the road from Sagan to Görlitz and the and the motorway from Berlin to Breslau. It took place on 31st May 1944. Arnošt Valenta thus became the only Czechoslovak member of the RAF who did not return from German captivity. By an irony of fate he was not shot because he was a Czech, but because he was one of the main proponents of the escape.

BATELKA Karel, Sgt, 311 Sqn., Air Gunner

Captured: 17/01/1942, on bombing raid to Bremen, flak damage above target, crashed Holland.

PoW no: 24771

From Lamsdorf to Sagan 15/07/42, to Barth 16/10/42, to Prague Pankrác 25/08/44, Pankrac to Colditz 22/09/44, liberated 16/04/45.

BAUMAN Václav, W/O, 501 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 20/06/1942, near St Omer, France.

PoW no:

BRYKS Josef, F/Lt, 242 Sqn., Pilot

Shot down 17/06/1941, near Lille, France.

PoW no:

To Dulag Luft 19/06/41 to 22/06/41, to Oflag IX Spagenberg 22/06/41, to Oflag Ivb Dussel – Warburg 08/10/41 to Oflag XXIB Szubin 22/09/42, escaped 04/03/43, to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] 01/03/43, to Prague Pankrác 01/09/44, to Stalag Luft 1, Barth 22/09/44, to Colditz from 07/11/44 until liberated 16/04/45.

BUDIL Bohuslav, F/Lt, 312 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 19/04/1944, Shot down over Belgium.

PoW no: 4233

To Oberursel, to Stalag Luft III  [Sagan] on 29/04/44, to Prague Pankrác 3/08/44, to Barth 19/08/44 until liberated 01/05/45.

BUFKA Vilém, W/O, 311 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 22/06/1941, Bremen, Germany – shot down by night fighter over Holland, captured 24/6/41.

PoW no: 39160

Bad Sulza to Sagan 26/04/42, to Barth 16/10/42, to Prague Pankrác 23/07/44, 18/08/44 returned o Barth, to Colditz 10/10/44 until liberated 16/04/45.

BURDA František, F/Lt, 310 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 27/02/1943, shot down by flak over France.

PoW no: 245

Schubin to Stalag Luft III [Sagan]  20/04/43, to Prague Pankrác 13/08/44, to Barth 19/08/44, to Colditz 10/09/44 until liberated 16/04/45.

BUŠINA Emil, P/O, 311 Sqn., Navigator

Captured: 06/02/1941, captured when aircraft was disorientated and landed by mistake on Luftwaffe airfield at Bolougne, France.

PoW no: 401

Oberursel to Barth 15/02/41, April ’42 to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] 13/08/44, to Prague Pankrác, returned to Barth 19/08/44, to Colditz10/9/44 until liberated 16/04/45.

ČERNÝ Otakar, F/Lt, 311 Sqn., Wireless Operator

Shot down 17/07/1941 on raid to Hamburg, Germany, captured 19/7/41.

PoW no: 3663

Warburg to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] April ’42, late ’42 to Schubin, returned to Sagan from Pawiak Prison, Poland Sept. ’43, to Prague Pankrác 14/08/44. to Colditz 26/10/44 until liberated 16/04/45.

CHALOUPKA Čeněk, Sgt, 312 Sqn., Pilot

Shot down 06/10/1941, near Dutch coast.

PoW no: 1356

From Oberursel to Barth Oct. ’41, to Colditz  22/01/43, to Prague Pankrác 14/08/44, to Colditz 31/08/44 until liberated 16/04/45.

CIGOŠ František, F/Lt, 311 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 06/02/1941, captured when aircraft was disorientated and landed by mistake on Luftwaffe airfield at Bolougne, France.

PoW no: 402

Oberursel to Barth 15/02/41, April ’42 to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] 14/08/44 to Prague Pankrác, returned to Barth 9/09/44, to Colditz 22/09/44 until liberated 16/04/45.

DVOŘÁK  Bedřich, P/O, 312 Sqn., PIlot

Captured: 03/06/1942, shot down over France.

PoW no: 39648

Spangenberg to Sagan 08/03/43, escaped 25/03/44, captured 09/04/44, to Prague Pankrác, to Barth 30/11/44, to Colditz 09/01/45 until liberated 16/04/45.

FISCHL Jiří Otto, P/O, 101 Sqn.,

Shot down by night fighter over Germany 16/02/44 in Lancaster Mk.III DV236 SR-G.

PoW no:

Oberursel to Stalag Luft II Sagan Feb. ’44, evacuated to Farmstedt late Jan ’45.

KAŇOVSKÝ [Kennedy] Rostislav, F/Lt, 310 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 05/09/1944, shot down by flak over Holland.

PoW no:

Oberursel, to Barth 01/10/44 until liberated 01/05/45.

KILIÁN Václav, F/Lt, 311 Sqn., Air Gunner

Captured: 23/09/1940, Berlin, Germany, Damaged by Flak above target, Crashed in Holland.

PoW no:

Eichstatt to Stalag Luft III Sagan ’42, 13/08/44 to Prague Pankrác, to Barth 19/08/44, liberated 01/05/45.

KLVAŇA Jaroslav, W/O, 311 Sqn., Air Gunner

Captured: 14/04/1942, Raid on Dortmund, Flak damage above target, shot down by nightfighter over Holland.

PoW no:

Oberursel to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] July ’42, to Barth 16/10/42, to Muhlberg 03/11/43.

KNAP František, W/O, 311 Sqn., Air Gunner

Shot down 17/07/1941 on raid to Hamburg, Germany.

PoW no:

Bad Sulza to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] 26/4/42, to Barth 16/10/42, 25/08/44 to Prague Pankrác, Sept. ’44 returned to Barth, liberated 01/05/45.

KNOTEK František, W/O, 311 Sqn., Air Gunner

Captured: 23/09/1940, Berlin, Germany, Damaged by Flak above target, crashed in Holland.

PoW no:

From Moabit prison to Barth 12/10/40, to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] June ’42, to Barth 16/10/42, to Muhlberg 03/11/43.

KOPAL Gustav, W/O, 311 Sqn., Air Gunner

Captured: 06/02/1941, captured when aircraft was disorientated and landed by mistake on Luftwaffe airfield at Bolougne, France.

PoW no:

From Oberursel to Barth 15/02/41, April ’42 to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] , 16/10/42 to Barth, 04/05/43 escaped, captured 05/05/43, returned to Barth 06/05/43 from Barth Police station, to Muhlberg 03/11/43.

KRESTA Otakar, W/O, 313 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 12/04/1942, shot down over France.

PoW no:

Oberursel to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] May ’42, to Barth 16/10/42, to Muhlberg 03/11/43.

KŘÍŽEK Karel, F/Lt, 311 Sqn., Air Gunner

Captured: 06/02/1941, raid on Cologne, Germany.

PoW no:

Barth to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] April ’42, 14/08/44 to Prague Pankrác.

MAŇÁK Jiří, S/Ldr, 312 Sqn., Pilot

Shot down 29/08/1943, Vlissingen, Holland.

PoW no: 2378

Oberursel to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] 11/09/43, evacuated 27/01/45 to Farmstedt.

NETOPIL Bohumil, W/O, 19 Sqn., Pilot

Shot down 24/03/1942, Abbeville, France.

PoW no:

From Molsdorg [hospital] to Barth 16/01/43, to Muhlberg 03/11/43.

NOVOTNÝ Emanuel, W/O, 311 Sqn., Pilot

Shot down 16/10/1940, on raid to Bremen, Germany.

PoW no: 395

From Weisbaden prison to Barth 21/01/41, to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] ’42, 16/10/42 to Prague Pankrác 25/08/44, Sept ’44 to Barth, to Colditz 10/10/44 until liberated 16/04/45.

NÝČ Jaroslav, W/O, 311 Sqn., Pilot

Shot down 17/07/1941 on raid to Hamburg, Germany.

PoW no:

Bad Sulza to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] 26/04/42, to Barth 16/10/42, to Mujlberg 03/11/43.

OCELKA Antonín, W/O, 312 Sqn, Pilot

Captured: 18/09/1944, shot down by flak over Holland.

PoW no:

PÁRA Vladimír, W/O, 311 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 14/04/1942, on raid on Dortmund, flak damage above target, shot down by nightfighter over Holland.

PoW no:

From Oberursel to Barth ’42, to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] later the same year. 16/10/42 to Barth, 03/11/43 to Muhlberg.

PETR František, W/O, 311 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 20/10/1941, raid on Bremen, Germany, forced landing in Holland.

PoW no:

to Sagan 20/05/42 from Lamsdorf, to Barth 16/10/42, 03/11/43 to Muhlberg.

PŘÍSTUPA Gustav, F/Sgt, 312 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 11/08/1944, shot down on operational flight over Holland.

PoW no:

PROCHÁZKA Václav, W/O, 311 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 20/10/1941 on raid to Bremen, Germany, forced landing in Holland.

PoW no: 24472

From Lamsdorf to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] 20/05/42, to Barth 16/10/42, to Prague Pankrác 25/08/44, Sept. ’44 returned to Barth, to Colditz 22/09/44 until liberated 16/04/45.

PROCHÁZKA Zdeněk, F/Lt, 311 Sqn., Navigator

Captured: 23/09/1940 on raid to Berlin, Germany, damaged by flak above target, Crashed in Holland.

PoW no: 3770

Warburg to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] ’42, to Prague Pankrác 14/08/44, Sept ’44 to Barth, liberated 01/05/45.

ŠČERBA Josef, F/Lt, 311 Sqn., Wireless Operator/Air Gunner

Captured: 28/12/1941, raid on Wilhelmshaven, flak damage above target, crash landing in North Sea.

PoW no:

From Hohemark [hospital] to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] June ’42, 20/07/44 to Annaberg for repatriation.

ŠESTÁK Augustin, W/O, 311 Sqn., Air Gunner

Shot down 16/10/1940 on raid to Bremen, Germany.

PoW no:

From Weisbaden prison to Barth 21/01/41, to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] ’42, returned from Sagan 16/10/42 and 03/11/43 to Muhlberg.

SICHROVSKÝ Zdeněk Josef, W/O, 311 Sqn., Pilot

Shot down 17/01/1942, on raid to Bremen Germany, flak damage above target, crashed in Holland.

PoW no:

From Berlin [hospital] to Stalag Luft III Sagan 05/10/42, to Barth 16/10/42, to Neubrandenburg [hospital] 22/07/43.

ŠIŠKA Alois, W/O, 311 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 28/12/1941, raid on Wilhelmshaven, Flak damage above target, crash landing in North Sea.

PoW no: 39654

From Kloster Haina [Hospital] to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] June ’42, June 43 to Barth, 25/08/44 to Prague Pankrác, returned to Barth Sept ’44, to Colditz 22/09/44, March ’45 to Hohenstein [Hospital]

ŠKARVADA Zdeněk, W/O, 310 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 04/02/1942, engine failure during operational flight.

PoW no:

From Lamsdorf to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] 21/05/42, to Barth 16/10/42.

ŠNAJDR [Schneider] Josef Karel, W/O, 311 Sqn., Air Gunner

Captured: 17/01/1942, raid on Bremen, Germany, flak damage above target, crashed Holland.

PoW no:

To Sagan Aug. ’42 from Bad Sulza, to Barth 16/10/42, 20/07/44 to Annaberg for repatriation.

ŠŤASTNÝ Karel, W/O, 311 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 17/07/1941, raid on Hamburg, Germany.

PoW no:

From Bad Sulza to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] 26/04/42, to Barth 16/10/42, to Muhlberg. 03/11/43.

SŮSA Josef, W/O, 311 Sqn., Air Gunner

Captured: 20/10/1941, raid on Bremen, Germany, forced landing in Holland.

PoW no: 24446

From Lamsdorf to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] 20/05/42, to Barth 16/10/42, to Prague Pankrác 25/08/44, to Colditz 27/10/44, liberated 16/04/45.

SVOBODA Pavel, W/O, 311 Sqn., Air Gunner

Captured: 28/12/1941, raid on Wilhelmshaven, flak damage above target, crash landing in North Sea.

PoW no:

TONDER Ivo Peter, F/Lt, 312 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 03/06/1942, shot down over France.

PoW no: 561

From Oberursel to Stalag Luft III [Sagan]  June ’42, escaped 25/03/44, captured 30/03/44, to Prague Pankrác, to Barth 30/11/44, to Colditz 09/01/45 until liberated 16/04/45.

TROJÁČEK Karel Josef, F/Lt, 311 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 23/09/1940, raid on Berlin, Germany, damaged by flak above target, crashed in Holland.

PoW no: 3769

From Spangenberg to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] 14/03/43, to Prague Pankrác 14/08/44, to Barth 02/09/44, to Colditz 09/01/45, liberated 16/04/45.

TRUHLÁŘ Jan, W/O, 312 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 09/06/1941, shot down near St Omer, France.

PoW no: 39286

From Bad Sulza to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] 26/04/42, to Barth 16/10/42, to Colditz 22/09/44, Liberated 16/04/45.

TRUHLÁŘ Václav, F/O, 313 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 10/04/1942, shot down over France.

PoW no:

From Stalag Luft III [Sagan] to Barth 16/10/42, to Prague Pankrác 25/08/44, Sept ’44 returned from Pankrác, to Colditz 22/09/44, liberated 16/04/45.

URUBA Petr, W/O, 311 Sqn., Pilot

Captured: 06/02/1941, captured when aircraft was disorientated and landed by mistake on Luftwaffe airfield at Bolougne, France.

PoW no: 450

From Oberursel to Barth 15/02/41, March ’42 to Stalag Luft III [Sagan], returned to Barth 16/10/42, to Prague Pankrác 23/07/44, returned to Barth 18/08/44, to Colditz 10/09/44 until liberated 16/04/45.

VALÁŠEK Karel, F/O, 313 Sqn., Pilot

PoW no: 787485

Captured: 19/04/1944, shot down by flak over France.

VALENTA Arnošt, F/Lt, 311 Sqn., Wireless Operator

Captured: 06/02/1941, captured when aircraft was disorientated and landed by mistake on Luftwaffe airfield at Bolougne, France.

PoW no:

From Oberursel to Barth 15/02/41, to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] March ’42, escaped 25/03/44, murdered 31/03/44.

VALNER Bedřich, W/O, 311 Sqn., Wireless Operator

Captured: 20/10/1941, raid on Bremen, Germany, emergency landing in Holland.

PoW no:

From Lamsdorf to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] 20/05/42, to Barth 16/10/42, to Muhlberg 03/11/43.

VESELÝ Erazim, F/Lt, 311 Sqn., Navigator

Captured: 20/10/1941, raid on Bremen, Germany, emergency landed in Holland.

PoW no:

From Oberursel to Stalag Luft III [Sagan]  Oct. ’41, to Barth 16/10/42, to Prague Pankrác 14/08/44, to Colditz 15/09/44 until liberated 16/04/45.

ZÁBRŠ Arnošt, W/O, 311 Sqn., Pilot

PoW no:

Captured: 23/09/1940, raid on Berlin, Germany, damaged by flak above target, crashed in Holland.

PoW no:

From Lamsdorf to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] April ’42, to Barth 16/10/42, to Hohenstein Hospital [sanitorium] July ’44.

ZAFOUK Jaroslav, F/Lt, 311 Sqn., Navigator

Captured: 17/07/1941, raid on Hamburg, Germany.

PoW no: 3661

Arrived 19/06/42 at Prague Pankrác, to Colditz, returned to Pankrac 14/08/44.

ZAPLETAL Milan František, F/Lt, 311 Sqn., Navigator, Air Gunner

PoW no:

From Prague Pankrác to Barth Sept ’44, liberated 01/05/45.

Captured: 14/04/1942, raid on Dortmund, flak damage above target, shot down by nightfighter over Holland.

PoW no:

From Obermansfeld [hospital] to Stalag Luft III [Sagan], to Prague Pankrác 14/08/44.

ZVOLENSKÝ Jozef, W/O 311 Sqn., Wireless Operator/Air Gunner

Captured: 20/10/1941, raid on Bremen, Germany, emergency landing in Holland.

PoW no:

From Lamsdorf to Stalag Luft III [Sagan] 20/05/42, to Barth 16/10/42, to Prague Pankrác 23/07/44, returned to Barth 18/08/44, liberated 01/05/45.

Czechoslovak PoW's Stalag Luft I, Barth, 1945

© PhDr. Jiří Rajlich