‘Well, never mind all that,’ interjected Air Vice-Marshal Boyd. ‘What are we going to do about it, that’s the more pressing concern?’
‘The same as for Connor’s papers,’ said De Wiart. ‘The next man out of this room will bloody well have to warn Phil.’
‘Er … I also have a problem,’ piped up Brigadier Miles.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve been writing letters as well?’ asked De Wiart.
‘No, sir. It’s a map … I was helping G-P to copy a map. It’s in my tunic pocket on the back of my desk chair.’
‘Anyone else?’ said De Wiart ominously, his one eye flashing around the room in disgust.
Brigadier Armstrong reached into his tunic and pulled out a bundle of banknotes.
‘I’ve 5,000 Egyptian piastres here,’17 he said, holding up the cash.
‘Well get rid of it, man!’ boomed De Wiart furiously. ‘That goes for the rest of you. Hide anything incriminating.’ Moving quickly, the officers checked their pockets and within a minute or two various papers and quantities of money were stashed in crannies around the large room, even inside the pile of ashes in the fireplace.18
The generals had hardly finished when the door to the sitting room was thrown open and Major Bacci entered. He scanned the assembled faces, his eyes settling briefly on General O’Connor. Everyone froze. The only sound was the ticking of the large mantle clock over the fireplace. Then Bacci’s eyes moved on. They swung across to Combe’s face, which was the colour of putty.
‘Brigadier Combe,’ said Bacci. Combe’s eyes met Bacci’s. His stomach turned over as he bent to place his pipe in an ashtray.
‘Are you not well?’ asked Bacci.
‘Well? Yes … I mean no … I mean, it’s very … very stuffy in here,’ stumbled Combe. Bacci raised one eyebrow.
‘Please sit down, Brigadier. Generale Gambier-Parry, if you will follow me please,’ said Bacci casually. Combe collapsed into the nearest armchair in relief. As G-P was led from the room he turned back and briefly nodded to O’Connor. The whole escape plan, honed and refined over months of hard work, now hung in the balance. The generals had one chance to stop Bacci and his hounds from uncovering the whole show.
*
‘Phil, we have a problem,’ said Gambier-Parry quietly as he strode over to where General Neame was standing in the courtyard. G-P had just been brought down from his room, which had been satisfactorily searched by Major Bacci’s men without result.
‘The chaps are going potty in the sitting room,’ continued G-P. ‘Seems that Dick has left some escape papers in his bedside drawer.’19
‘Come again?’ exclaimed Neame, desperately trying to disguise his shock from a nearby Italian guard who glanced over at the two generals.
‘Dick asks whether you’d mind popping up to his room and moving them to somewhere safer,’ continued G-P.
Neame immediately grasped the situation, but also the difficulty of what G-P and O’Connor were asking him to do. But doing nothing was not an option – immediate action was the order of the day.
‘Right, stay here, G-P,’ said Neame, now recovered from his shock. Neame strode off towards the door that led to the bedrooms. As he approached, the sentry stiffened and looked at him sharply. The Italian soldier unhitched his rifle from his shoulder and prepared to challenge Neame.
‘Gabinetto … gabinetto,’ said Neame loudly, pointing towards the accommodation, asking to use the lavatory. The guard understood and relaxed, indicating with one hand for Neame to go ahead.
Gambier-Parry watched Neame disappear inside. His nerves were on edge, naturally enough given the serious repercussions that would follow if Neame were caught, or if he failed to retrieve the papers. But there was something else troubling G-P. Had he forgotten something?
Neame quickly slipped into the accommodation area. It was dead quiet. Then Neame heard muffled voices coming down the stone staircase that he was about to climb to reach O’Connor’s room. Major Bacci and his searchers must be on the same floor as O’Connor’s bedroom. Neame realised that he’d have to chance running into them. With his heart in his mouth he started to climb on tiptoe, trying not to make any noise until he reached the next landing.
Pressing himself against the corner, Neame tentatively peeked around and down the corridor that led to several of the generals’ bedrooms, including O’Connor’s. There was no one in the passageway, but he could hear Italian voices and the sound of furniture being moved in one of the rooms at the far end. He’d have to chance it. Neame could see O’Connor’s bedroom door not far away – just a few quick steps and he could be inside. Moving as fast as he dared, Neame tiptoed down the corridor to O’Connor’s bedroom, placing his hand on the door handle. Just at that moment, an Italian soldier appeared in the doorway of the bedroom at the end. He had his back to Neame and was talking loudly to someone else. Neame froze. If the soldier turned, he would be caught. Gingerly, Neame turned O’Connor’s door handle, which squeaked alarmingly, and then quickly darted into the bedroom, pushing the door shut behind him. He waited for a few seconds, listening for approaching footsteps but there were none – he’d got away with it.
Neame went at once to the bedside table. He pulled out the packet of papers and stuffed them in the waistband of his trousers, pulling his sweater down over them. His mind racing, he made a snap decision. He would hide them on the roof, under a loose tile. Moving quickly, he walked over to the door and listened. He could hear the Italian soldiers talking again at the end of the corridor. Opening the door a fraction, Neame peered out. Everything appeared to be as before. He stuck his head out into the corridor – it was empty, the soldier having returned to the bedroom. Neame gently closed O’Connor’s door then crept across to the staircase and headed upstairs. Once on the roof, Neame quickly hid O’Connor’s papers beneath a loose tile before returning the way he had come. Although expecting to run into a soldier on the stairs at every turn, Neame was lucky. He successfully emerged back into the courtyard and wandered over to G-P, whose pensive face spelled trouble.
‘I forgot to tell you,’ said G-P, ‘Combe left some papers in his room. Two letters. He wrote two letters …’20 Neame slowly shook his head in disbelief.
‘I won’t get away with it again,’ said Neame. G-P’s facial expression agreed, but there was no choice. ‘Right,’ said Neame stoutly, ‘here goes nothing.’
Neame immediately walked over to the guarded door again, holding one hand to his stomach.
‘Disinteria! Gabinetto! Presto!’21 The guard was horrified at the thought of dysentery and immediately allowed Neame to pass. Moving fast, Neame made his way carefully to Combe’s room, again without being detected, snatched up the letters and headed once again for the battlements on the roof. Once again, Bacci and his men were busy in the other bedrooms and Neame encountered no one on the stairs.
Back safely once again in the courtyard, though by now red-faced and sweating from his two climbs up to the top of the keep, Neame met several of the other generals whose rooms had been searched. They were standing around looking pensive.
‘Looks as though we’ve got away with it,’ murmured Boyd. ‘Splendid show, by the way.’
But the search went on.
Brigadier Hargest was called before his friend Miles. He determined that he would somehow retrieve the half-finished map from Miles’ tunic pocket. But the question was how? Bacci’s men finished searching Hargest’s room and Bacci started to escort the New Zealander towards the staircase that led all the way back down to the courtyard. As they walked, Hargest engaged Bacci in polite conversation, his mind racing. Suddenly, the solution to the problem occurred to him. Both Hargest and Miles had gone down to lunch dressed in shirtsleeves, having left their service tunics in their rooms. They were both about the same size and even had a similar array of medal ribbons above their tunics’ left breast pockets. As Hargest and Bacci started to make their way down the stone steps, Hargest acted.
‘It’s turning cold, don’t you think, Major?’
asked Hargest, stopping. Before Bacci had time to reply Hargest started quickly back up the steps. ‘I’m going for my jacket,’22 said Hargest as he disappeared around the corner. Bacci muttered something, but didn’t order him to stop. Hargest strode quickly down the corridor and darted into Miles’s room, struggling into his friend’s khaki tunic before hurrying back down to where Major Bacci was waiting for him impatiently. The switch wasn’t noticed.
The castle was a big place, and after searching the senior officers’ bedrooms, Bacci and his men turned their attention to the other ranks and the dining room, sitting rooms and kitchen. As the hours dragged by, and not one item of incriminating material was uncovered, Bacci and his men began to flag. By evening Bacci needed a break, and so he climbed up to the battlements for some fresh air and a smoke.23
Bacci strolled about in the twilight, enjoying a few moments of peace and solitude. Suddenly, he caught sight of something that didn’t look right. A tile on one of the roof spaces beside the open battlements was not quite flat. Bacci walked over, tossing his cigarette to one side, and lifted the heavy terracotta tile. Beneath, bundled together, were General O’Connor’s papers. Bacci gave them a cursory examination.
He couldn’t quite believe what he held in his hands – a detailed plan for an escape attempt using six men via the Italian area of the camp. Bacci was elated at his discovery, but also deeply disappointed. The British generals had been deceiving him – pretending to be honourable gentlemen but all the while plotting an escape. Bacci said a silent prayer of thanks for having made this discovery – had the escape plot succeeded and a gaggle of British generals broken free into the Italian countryside Major Bacci would have been one of those held responsible by Rome.
Bacci now ordered a thorough search of the keep’s roof. He soon turned up Brigadier Combe’s two farewell letters, which made for very interesting reading for the authorities.24 By the time they left the castle that night, the Italian searchers had ‘the flush of triumph on their faces’.25
As well as revealing that the middle-aged British generals were plotting an escape, the cache of papers discovered by Bacci also indicated that Lieutenant Ricciardi and Dr Bolaffio were undoubtedly sympathetic to these prisoners. Action was taken at once. Ricciardi, though he had not aided the escape attempt in any way, was transferred to North Africa. His going was to be keenly felt by the generals, for they all considered Gussie to be a close friend.26 Combe in particular felt dreadful about the whole thing. The only consolation was that Mickey, Gussie’s giant white dog, would remain at the castle. Dr Bolaffio also left under a cloud of official suspicion. Neame was moved to write in 1943 that after the war Bolaffio should receive official British recognition for his brave aid rendered to the prisoners’ escape plans.27
Of more serious concern were the months of careful preparation and training for the white wall job, now irrevocably blown to the enemy. ‘It was a tragedy that any written notes should have been made at all,’28 wrote Neame with commendable understatement. It was decided that from then on, regardless of how complex an escape operation was planned to be, nothing would be committed to paper.29
Major Bacci now redoubled his efforts at searching the castle. What had been merely a formality and an embarrassing inconvenience to both sides now became a determined effort by the Italians to discover escape equipment. The castle would be taken apart if necessary. The number of sentries, with bayonets fixed to their rifles, increased considerably. Further searches turned up some Italian money and more documents. Bacci was so thorough that he had Italian workmen brought to the castle to carefully remove every roof tile so the space beneath could be inspected; the tiles were then replaced.
Neame and the others realised that this interminable search would continue until Bacci found something else of real value, so it was decided to let him find some of Private Dwyer’s fake civilian clothes in the hope that this would satisfy him.30 A few easily replaceable items of clothing were gathered together and hidden in a cavity below one of the staircases. Two of the generals mentioned this stash within earshot of one of the Italian officers, who quickly searched and found the items. ‘After that interest in the hunt began to die away,’31 wrote Leeming of the sorry episode.
*
The next day a staff car pulled up at the castle. First Captain Tranquille ordered a roll call and the entire British contingent was assembled in the courtyard. The Italian War Ministry in Rome had decided that the generals required an official warning concerning their behaviour as guests of Mussolini. To this end the Florence corps commander, Major-General Chiappe, had been dispatched to the castle to upbraid the POWs.32
The commandant had requested that the prisoners parade in full uniform, due to the presence of Chiappe and his staff officers. At 11.00am the British were drawn up in ranks before the general and his staff. General Neame turned to the POWs.
‘British contingent, attention!’
The generals and other ranks snapped to attention. Neame about-turned smartly and faced the Italian officers, who saluted, Neame returning their salute.
‘You may stand your men at ease, Generale,’ said First Captain Tranquille.
‘British contingent, stand at ease!’ bellowed Neame.
Chiappe’s aide-de-camp handed Chiappe the ‘official reprimand’33 and he began to read. After first describing the heinous and under-handed plans the POWs had hatched, the reprimand pointed out the hopelessness and regrettable nature of those plans.
‘The Italian Government regrets the severity of making an official reprimand,’ read Chiappe, ‘but it has to be pointed out that the conduct of the British senior officers has been very bad, and that they have brought disgrace upon themselves by their wicked actions. You are hereby told to desist from all escape attempts and to abandon all such shameful ideas immediately.’34 Chiappe stopped, sighed, and handed the paper to his aide. Commandant Tranquille stared at the prisoners, a slight smile creasing his thin lips. Smoothing down his tunic, General Chiappe spoke again.
‘I would like to say, gentlemen, that in the same circumstances I hope I would have done the same.’ Tranquille’s face dropped. ‘Would it be possible for you to have a glass of wine with me?’35 said Chiappe, smiling broadly.
*
The Italians were taking no further chances with their illustrious captives. Within days of the discovery of the white wall plot, electricians came up from Florence to install new lights on the castle walls and on the white wall. Holes were drilled into the top of the white wall and iron posts cemented into place. Eleven strands of barbed wire were then strung through the posts, and an extra sentry posted to watch the wall like a hawk.
From now on, anytime the prisoners left the castle for escorted walks through the local countryside, they would have to wear full uniform rather than their usual casual attire, again to prevent any escape attempts.36
The sentries became jumpy. A few nights after the escape plot was discovered, one of the guards on the castle wall fired two shots at someone or something outside the moat, perhaps thinking that it was an escaper. No dead body was ever produced from this incident and Tranquille gave the guard a severe dressing-down.
CHAPTER 9
___________________
Going Underground
‘Dick O’Connor was the most enthusiastic plotter of all, with Jim Hargest and Reg Miles as close runners-up.’
Lieutenant-General Sir Philip Neame
‘Can you help me, Bain?’ asked John Leeming, as he concluded his story of an amazing discovery in the bottom of the castle well. RAF Sergeant Ronald Bain, a red-headed Irishman who assisted with housekeeping, was the camp’s qualified electrician and was able to procure or manufacture many things, making him invaluable when it came to assisting escapes.
All castles require a source of fresh water, and the Castello di Vincigliata was no exception. Though no longer of any practical use now that indoor plumbing and electricity had been introduced to the ancient building, the castle still retained
its deep well in the prisoners’ courtyard area. It was a dingy affair, with mossy, slimy walls, and the bottom was very hard to make out.
‘How did you find it, sir?’ asked Bain of Leeming’s amazing new discovery.
‘I was leaning over the top, just peering down, and the light caught what looks like a stone or brick opening just above the level of the stagnant water in the bottom.’
‘Are you sure your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you, sir?’ asked the Irishman seriously.
‘To begin with, I thought they might have been. But, no, I’m absolutely sure the opening is there, Bain.’
‘How big do you think it is?’
‘It looks like a small doorway … certainly big enough for a man,’ replied Leeming, still excited from his initial discovery.
‘And you want me to help you to take a closer look, right?’ said Bain, rubbing his chin reflectively.
‘That’s right. Any ideas?’
‘Well, first we need to take a good look at the thing,’ said Bain. ‘How deep is the well, would you say?’
‘About 40 feet,’ said Leeming.
Bain accompanied Leeming to the well head and peered downwards, letting his eyes slowly adjust to the gloom. After a few seconds he turned to Leeming.
‘You’re right, sir, there’s definitely an opening just above the waterline.’1
‘Question is, how to confirm what we suspect we see?’ asked Leeming.
‘How about we lower a candle down the well shaft?’ suggested Bain. ‘Then we can take a closer look at this doorway of yours. I can rig up something simple and we could have a go when the castle is quieter late this afternoon.’
‘Top man,’ said Leeming. ‘I’d like to confirm what I think before I take this before the escape committee.’
It was decided. Sergeant Bain attached a large candle and its holder to a string harness, and late that afternoon, when no Italian guards were about, he and Leeming carefully lowered the rudimentary light down into the well.
‘I see it,’ whispered Bain fiercely as the candlelight wobbled about, illuminating black depthless water and mossy walls. ‘I’d say the opening is about three feet high and a couple of feet wide, sir.’2 Leeming confirmed Bain’s observations. The implication was obvious: an opening must lead to a passage … but a passage to where?
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