‘It’s about five miles to Chiasso on the frontier,’ said Hargest to Miles as they walked out of Como’s red-brick Victorian Lago station towards the famous lake. As they strolled down towards the waterfront in bright sunshine, it was hard to believe that there was a war on. The massive lake stretched away before them, framed by green-covered hills and the Alps behind. The dome of the 14th-century Como Cathedral dominated the town, surrounded on the waterfront by terracotta- and light yellow-coloured buildings giving an impression of prosperous peace. People bustled about, and the cafés and restaurants were full. The war had yet to touch this corner of Europe. Still wearing their greatcoats, Hargest and Miles were soon sweating in the mountain air but keen to crack on to Chiasso.
*
After walking along part of the waterfront, Hargest and Miles branched off through Como town, heading towards the road to Chiasso. They passed several soldiers and policemen without anyone showing any signs of recognition or challenging them. Hargest unfortunately lost his wine when the handle of his suitcase snapped once again and the bottle broke. Soon the two brigadiers were out in the countryside, following the road as it grew steeper and steeper. The country was dotted with pretty villas and gardens. Their plan was to follow the road most of the way to Chiasso then go south up on to the San Fermo Pass, before striking due west.5 Once the villas ended and the highway only passed through wooded countryside, the two escapers decided to get off the road as soon as possible so that they wouldn’t look suspicious. They were incongruously dressed for the season and carrying hand luggage rather than mountain rucksacks. And they knew that the border area would be crawling with soldiers and police – they had passed several groups already.
*
Owen Boyd was also taking the road to Chiasso, though he was way behind Hargest and Miles having hung around at Como station for a while. His intention was to skirt the country close to the Swiss frontier until he found a railway line that crossed it, and then, hobo-style, jump a train and ride to freedom.6
*
‘Stand up!’ said the interrogator in a harsh manner. Brigadier Combe stood as ordered. Another policeman replaced the handcuffs, before Combe was led from the interrogation room down a long corridor and outside into the bright sunshine. He had already been interrogated several times, but he had not divulged his real name even though threatened with execution.7 Outside the back door of Milan Police Station was a black police truck. The driver unlocked the door and forced Combe into the hot and stuffy interior, connecting the handcuffs that he wore to a stout chain on the hard bench seat in order to prevent escape. A couple of young Italian men were already shackled inside. Once they were moving Combe asked one of the other prisoners where they were going.
‘San Vittore Prison,’ replied the man sullenly, before the guard who was riding in the back with the prisoners told them to be quiet. San Vittore was the main civilian prison in Milan.8 The fact Combe was being sent there rather than to a military establishment indicated that the authorities clearly had no idea of his true identity. They seemed to think that he was some sort of common criminal or perhaps a black marketeer or smuggler, judging by his false papers and maps. Or, perhaps, a spy.9 Combe determined to keep up his vague act until he was sure enough time had elapsed that his travelling companions should have crossed the frontier. Combe reckoned on at least two more days of discomfort in the hands of the Italian police.10
*
The road to Chiasso was steep and grew steeper the closer Hargest and Miles got to the town. Finally, after a hot and exhausting trek, Miles spotted a small white stone set beside the road that read ‘Chiasso 1km’. At this point the two New Zealanders left the road and headed into the countryside. They crossed the railway line that ran back to Como and then started up the hill again. After a while they came to a deep gully that ran under the road. It was shaded with much foliage and Hargest and Miles dived gratefully into it, climbing on for a further half a mile under excellent cover.11
‘Let’s have a break,’ suggested Hargest, wiping sweat from his brow with his handkerchief. He and Miles sat down in the shade to rest and eat some of their meagre rations. They shared a tin of Red Cross bully beef and washed it down with their little remaining water.12 They examined their maps. The hike was proceeding according to plan. Hargest glanced up at the wooded hill that loomed above them.
‘Right, Reg, let’s crack on,’ he said, picking up his suitcase. Together, the two escapers started to climb once again. After much effort, they made it to the summit and were rewarded with a stunning view. They could see Lake Como far below, the sun glinting off its glassy surface. They could see the funicular railway running from the lake up to the small mountain village of Brunate. Turning around, they could see down on to the flat Lombardy Plain across which the train from Milan had brought them. The men turned back again and stared in the direction of freedom once more. To reach Switzerland they would have to traverse a deep valley.
‘Looks like home,’ said Miles as he stared at the snow-covered Alps that loomed like a great granite wall in the distance. Hargest agreed that the view was strongly reminiscent of New Zealand, and it reassured both men.13 The steep climb up to the top of the hill had exhausted them, so they lingered at the summit to rest and drink in the views. They looked into the valley that they would have to cross and could discern a road and a railway line running towards the Swiss town of Lugano. They could also see what appeared to be a fence running through the snow, bisected by the railway. It was a strange moment to be able to see the path to freedom laid out so starkly – it looked deceptively simple to just cross the valley and climb the steep mountain on the other side and pass through that fence, which from their current position, was a tiny black line again the white snow. But a closer inspection revealed that there was more to the frontier than just a fence – little buildings could be seen, buildings that Hargest and Miles took to be barracks for Italian frontier troops. As they progressed with their hike, they would encounter more evidence of defensive measures and troop activity in the valley and mountainsides along the frontier, making movement increasingly risky.
*
Air Vice-Marshal Boyd worked his way up the road towards Chiasso before deciding to follow the railway line that, according to his maps, ran over the frontier into Switzerland. Eventually, and after some difficulty, he closed up on a stretch of line that was less than a mile from the frontier and ducked down into deep undergrowth to wait for dark and observe train movements while plotting how to jump a locomotive. He would spend the rest of the day dozing fitfully, nibbling on his remaining rations and watching.14 He was tantalisingly close to the frontier, but he knew that any precipitate action might lead to his immediate recapture, so he would wait until dark to make his move. Hargest and Miles had opted for the less direct route, swinging on a long and arduous detour into the high mountains near Chiasso. While the New Zealanders trekked, Boyd lay in silence behind some bushes, trainspotting and conserving his energy for the final push to freedom.
*
Hargest and Miles stumbled and crouched as they worked their way cautiously along the high ridgeline above the valley. There was little cover and they were concerned about running into an Italian patrol. The evidence of a military presence was all around them, with small collections of buildings, fences and trenches on both sides of the valley. Two shabbily dressed men wearing ordinary shoes and carrying old suitcases would have a hard time explaining their business in the high Alpine country should they be challenged.
By 3.00pm both men were exhausted by the terrain and the stress and decided to rest once again. Hargest took out his bricklayer’s trowel from his case and helped Miles scrape out a couple of holes in the ground into which they lay, covering themselves with dead leaves. It was the best that they could do on the largely open ridgeline. They tried to sleep, but regardless of their physical exhaustion, neither man could.15
*
About 4.00pm, Hargest and Miles rose from their shallow trenches, d
ead leaves festooning their clothes and hair. Though still very tired, they decided to push on. They crossed a deserted road and headed for a higher wooded mountain beyond. As they were walking up they had a sudden start when they heard the sounds of men’s voices up ahead. Hargest and Miles dived behind some bushes and crouched low. Fearing a patrol, they listened carefully. There was a sound of hammering mingled in with the voices. Hargest crept forward cautiously for a better look. A group of men were making repairs to an electricity pole.16 Hargest crept back to Miles and reported what he had found. Though the men were civilians, the New Zealanders decided that it was probably unwise to be seen in case some loyal Italian should report their presence to the authorities. Creeping off, the brigadiers gave the working party a wide berth, conscious of every snapping twig and rustle of dead leaves as they trod.
*
At Vincigliata Castle, everything was progressing as normal. The Italians still had no inkling that a major escape had occurred the night before. The routine of the castle remained unchanged. Already General Neame had had some discussions with the remaining senior officers about the possibility of trying to fool the Italians for a second night running by placing the dummies back into the six empty beds. Neame was all for it, though some of the others thought that the British were pushing their luck.
The next problem to arise concerned Air Vice-Marshal Boyd. He was scheduled to have an Italian lesson with the castle’s interpreter at 6.00pm. Before escaping, Boyd had had the good sense to write a note to the interpreter cancelling his lesson due to ill health, and had given this to Neame to pass on in his absence. Hopefully, the interpreter or one of the Italian officers would not follow up the note by visiting Boyd to check on his health. At 4.30pm, Neame had the note sent in and hoped for the best.17
*
At the moment Boyd’s note was being sent to the Italian interpreter at the castle, the Air Vice-Marshal was still crouched behind some bushes on an elevated position above the railway line that ran into Switzerland. After some desultory attempts at sleeping, and a feed, Boyd had started carefully observing the trains that rumbled up the line towards the north.18 The locomotives were hauling goods wagons into Switzerland, presenting Boyd with the beginnings of a daring plan. He noticed after a while that each train stopped about half a mile from the frontier. When the third train under observation had done this, Boyd had exclaimed his surprise. But he couldn’t work out why it was happening. The trains would loiter in a stationary position for exactly five minutes (Boyd timed them carefully with his watch) before piling on steam once more and chuffing off to the frontier. During those five minutes no one appeared to be checking the trains; they just stopped. Perhaps the track was defective, thought Boyd, mystified.
Continued observation of further trains over the next couple of hours confirmed the pattern. Boyd realised that he could use the five-minute stop to break cover and make his way down to the track and hitch an unauthorised lift in one of the goods wagons at the rear of the train. He had noted with delight that once a train was moving again it didn’t appear to stop at the frontier, but rather steamed straight through in the direction of Lugano.19 It all looked too easy. Boyd glanced at the sky and then at his watch. He would wait until it was dark and then make his move.
*
Soon after avoiding the party of workmen in the woods, Hargest and Miles almost blundered into a man who was chopping wood outside a small farmhouse. As the two escapers hurried past, the man stopped what he was doing and leaned on his axe, staring at them. Moving quickly on, Hargest and Miles started to climb the steep, wooded mountain. ‘Whenever I looked back, I could see the axeman watching us intently,’20 wrote Hargest. It was not a good feeling.
Once deeper into the woods that covered the mountain slopes, they were no longer under observation, but again the two New Zealanders were exhausted. They flopped down on a patch of shady grass to catch their breath. After so many months of captivity, hiking in the mountains was proving very challenging, and Hargest’s hip was aching almost constantly. Suddenly, a gunshot blasted out.21 Hargest and Miles involuntarily ducked, then scrambled behind some trees. It had come from the direction of Como. Had they been reported and were soldiers now coming for them? The brigadiers dared not break cover lest they be fired at, so they waited, panting in the heat, their hearts fit to burst out of their chests. Silence. Nothing. No shouted commands or the sounds of men coming up the trail. But then the mountain stillness was broken by more gunfire. It seemed to be a little way off, and both brigadiers had seen enough action to know when they were being directly fired at. This was not one of those occasions. Perhaps troops were exercising nearby or hunters were out in the woods. Hargest let out a long breath and looked at Miles, who shook his head ruefully. Slowly, the men stood up, brushed the leaf litter from their coats and, picking up their suitcases, resumed their weary ascent.
Hargest checked his compass. They were now southeast of Chiasso station. From their lofty position hundreds of feet above they could see the station clearly. Little did they know that not far from the station lurked Owen Boyd, who continued with his lonely trainspotting. Hargest and Miles’s plan was to continue round to the southwest. They moved on to another long ridge. Going slowly, Hargest calculated that they needed to continue for about two miles to bring them south of the border town of Chiasso.
At 5.00pm Hargest and Miles halted south of Chiasso for another rest and a meal break. There was some man-made cover available – some old abandoned slit trenches half-full of leaves were as inviting to the exhausted brigadiers as feather beds, and they slid down gratefully inside them. They ate some more rations, but they were by now dehydrated after the long climb, and had run out of water. Hargest had a single orange from the castle, which he shared with Miles, but it did little to slake their thirst.22
*
At Vincigliata castle an old peasant, one of several who tended the grounds outside the walls, led a horse and cart through the outer garden gate, the same gate that the prisoners had found miraculously and mysteriously unlocked the night before. The peasant left the gate wide open, and a guard was sent down to close and lock it. The Carabiniere, a rifle slung over his shoulder, sauntered down from the castle drive with a set of large iron keys held in one hand. As he started to pull the tall iron gates shut he suddenly noticed something out of the corner of one eye. Walking over to investigate, the sentry was mystified to see that someone had left a coil of rope tucked up against the wall beside the gate. He pulled some out and inspected it in the failing light. It was not regular rope, but appeared to be made out of linen bedsheets sewn together. Then he realised what he was looking at. Quickly scooping up the coil of rope, the sentry trotted back towards the castle.23
A few minutes later the sentry presented himself before Captain Pederneschi’s desk and saluted.
‘Well, what is it?’ asked Pederneschi in a bored tone.
‘I found this, sir,’ said the sentry, placing the coil of rope on the desktop.
Pederneschi quickly sat forward in his chair and examined the rope.
‘Where did you find this, private?’ demanded Pederneschi, his eyes flashing with excitement. After the sentry explained, Pederneschi jumped to his feet, putting on his cap and starting for the door. He gave orders to fetch a sergeant and more men, and Mickey, the dog left behind by Lieutenant Ricciardi. Pederneschi’s face was set in a determined grimace. Something was going on and he was going to get to the bottom of it. He paused, opened his leather holster and took out his Beretta pistol. He extracted the magazine, checked it, and then slammed it back into place before replacing the pistol in its holster. ‘Come on!’ he barked at the sentry before marching off towards the gate, his jackboots drumming ominously on the flag-stoned driveway.
CHAPTER 17
___________________
Mickey Blows the Gaff
‘The next moment the world was full of the sound of bells. We fled.’
Brigadier James Hargest
Within
minutes of leaving his office, the castle’s stern security officer, Captain Pederneschi, accompanied by a small section of guards, had descended on where the sentry had discovered the coil of rope. Pederneschi stood contemplating the scene. The sun was going down, casting evening shadows across the castle and its grounds. It looked as though the British prisoners had made another attempt to climb over the outer wall of the fortress. But Pederneschi was confused – none had been reported absent at the 11.00am check. It seemed inconceivable that any prisoner could have emulated General O’Connor’s daring escalade – Pederneschi had put paid to any further such attempts by increasing the number of wall sentries, wiring them in on their wooden catwalk, and by installing the carefully watched ‘line of death’ on the inner side of the wall. Pederneschi ordered the section of guards to fan out around the outside walls of the castle and search the ground for any further clues. In the meantime, the great white dog Mickey had wandered off and was sniffing around. Suddenly, Mickey began pawing at the ground and barking, his tail flapping wildly.
Pederneschi stamped over to the dog. With his front paws Mickey was trying to dig, whimpering and barking as he did so.1 Pederneschi grabbed the dog by its collar and wrenched him aside. As he pulled the dog, Pederneschi stepped sideways, and suddenly there was a hollow sound beneath one of his jackboots. Pederneschi tapped the ground again with his boot, and the hollow sound was there again. He immediately crouched down and ran his hand roughly over the surface. Something wasn’t right. The vegetation came away revealing a painted wooden board. Jamming his fingers around the join Pederneschi pulled up the board revealing a dark hole. There was a sound as well – the faint sound of an electric buzzer.2
‘Sergeant, a torch, quick!’ shouted Pederneschi. The sergeant ran over and handed over a small handheld flashlight. Pederneschi switched on the light to reveal a deep, wood-lined shaft and ladder. ‘A tunnel!’ blurted out Pederneschi in genuine amazement. By now the other sentries had rushed over and were all peering into the hole with slack-jawed amazement.
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