The Tenth Mission - Part IV - Into Switzerland

One of the boys became very moody and tired. I had spent a few days with his family and lovely fiancee, so tried to goad him out of it. One day he said, "Oh, to hell with it. Give me your gun and I'll shoot myself. I can't go on any further.

Later on he sat down and refused to get up. He said, "Go, and let me die." I told him that I couldn't go home and tell his mother and fiancee that I just left him alive up here. I cocked my 45 and handed it to him and said, "Either shoot yourself or I'll do it for you. At least your family will know you didn't suffer."

He became very abusive, hollering, "You think you're so darned smart, want to run everything, tell everybody what to do!" In the meantime, Ken started to move off. The fellow got up and followed. My psychology worked. He got so mad at me that he forgot himself.

I'd like to have you believe I'm a tough guy, but you know, there wasn't a clip in the gun.

After we crossed the border, we knew we weren't out of danger. I had read about a German patrol crossing ten miles into Switzerland to pick up an escaping crew. Illegal, but they did it. Also, at this stage of the war, you'd better hope the German military picked you up, and not civilians. The civilians were so angry towards air crews that many were killed by the town's people upon landing.

My third worst moment came when, as we descended a steep cliff, Ken (he always led and I brought up the rear) all of a sudden lost his footing. He disappeared from view. When I could get to where I could see him, he was waving at me from 500 or 600 feet down the mountainside. We slowly descended, and when we reached him, I asked if he was okay. He said, "Yes, I just banged up a knee a little." Another of God's miracles. I sat down and shook for five minutes.

We all tied ourselves together with shroud lines, and agreed if we were going to go, we all would.

This was the low point of the ordeal for me. I don't think that I could have taken another full day. At that point I truthfully didn't know how many days had elapsed since bailing out. I had lost count of days and hours and was mentally disoriented. Except for things like the compass. With the compass I somehow miraculously maintained amazing clear mental processes. Maybe a psychiatrist could explain it. I can't!

My bad or low point was fortunately short-lived. Less than ten minutes later, Ken whooped, "Look, a building!" Sure enough. There was a building almost a half a mile away. It was obviously another ski lodge. It was quite dark by the time we got down to it and found it shuttered with a metal plate bolted over the lock.

Ken crawled up on the veranda, and using the approved "Lannigan method of illegal entry," opened the door. (Incidentally an American team inspected the damage and reimbursed the Swiss for this because we reported it in full.) Ken opened the front door, and we flopped in.

We immediately built a fire, but as usual, the chimney was covered and all it did was smoke. Ken went out (where he got the energy I'll never know), crawled up, uncovered the chimney, and then promptly fell off the steep roof into a fifteen foot snowbank. He came out laughing. But I was again about to shake apart. I said, "If I ever get to make delivery of you into your loving mother's arms, I hope to never see you again. My poor, old, tired body has taken about all your theatrics I can stand for one day." Supporting each other, we staggered inside the lodge and collapsed beside the other already asleep boys.

Ken and I awoke about the same time. The fire was burning brightly. We gathered mattresses and blankets from the sleeping lofts and put them in front of the fire, and then we went reconnoitering.

The dining room and kitchen shelves were bare, but leading off the kitchen were a couple of steps down and a metal barred door. We got the fireplace poker and a piece of wood, finally prying it open.

Ken let out his famous whoop, an insulated root cellar pantry - with enough food for an army. Canned venison, sausages, potatoes, rice, onions, oatmeal, canned milk. I sat down on the steps, emotionally and physically drained. I cried like a baby.

Ken said, "Why, you wild Irishman, you're not as tough as you'd like everybody to believe, are you?"

I said, "Ken, if I'd have had to go another mile today, tomorrow or ever, I don't think I could have done it." He put his hand on my shoulder, and in a quiet voice said, "Me either buddy." This, to my best estimates by working in reverse, was about the 18th day after bailing out.

Well, Army doctors told me later that they didn't know why we didn't all die from the way we gorged ourselves the next three or four days. We slept and ate.

By my map I figured we weren't far from civilization, so we packed only light lunches and started off. Within an hour we saw other habitations a few miles down the mountain side. Suddenly I saw an unusual sight. Three men in green even-pointed hats with feathers were coming up a trail. They didn't see us. I could tell there were wearing official uniforms of some type, so we decided to ditch our weapons, and avoid any problems that way. Soon the men came over a rise and we were face to face. Their leader threw up his arm and said, "Velcome to Switzerland! For you the Var is over."