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For three days they travelled through Germany, two hunted men on a desperate break for freedom. For three days they walked, caught trains, drank beer, talked to German policemen - two gallant Englishmen outwitting the Nazis, leaving the barbed wire of the prisoner of war camp ever further behind.
And they did all this - and got away - without disguise at all. Two British naval officers, wearing blue naval Burberrys over their uniforms, strolling through Germany unchallenged and unsuspected! its the greatest escape story of the war.
Lieutenant Denis Kelleher, R.N.V.R., aged 25, and Lieutenant Stewart Campbell, aged 22, a Fleet Air Arm Pilot, walked out of the camp where they had been prisoners and twenty two days later they walked into their parents’ homes in England and said “Hello folks. How’s the war?”
With nerves strained to breaking point, with practically no sleep and not enough food they had to suspect everyone they met without showing that they were suspicious; they had to walk past policemen, storm troopers and Gestapo thugs without giving way to the impulse to run as fast their sea legs would carry them.
They had begun making their plans to escape as soon as they reached the German camp. At the camp they were known as the “Long and Short of it”. Kelleher is short, stocky, looking like the star international amateur football player that he is - he has been thrice capped by Ireland. Campbell is over 6ft. tall, slim, looking like the shy boy from college - in fact, he left college at the outbreak of the war to join the Fleet Air Arm.
Every waking hour was devoted to perfecting their plans. Drafts were made and scrapped. But finally they concocted a foolproof method. For six weeks the two friends went back to “school” and swotted up German. Then the day came. They unobtrusively left the camp just as dark was falling. The blue mists of twilight swallowed them up.
Along the thirty-mile road to Bremen, Kelleher and Campbell set off, posing as Merchant Service Officers. They met nobody for hours. Then they came across an old woman. Here was a chance to “test their skill”. They spoke to her, asked if they were on the right road to Bremen. She wasn’t suspicious - just scared to meet two tough men on a lonely road in the dark. But she told them the way, and that was all they wanted.
In the early hours of the morning they limped, dusty, tired and parched with thirst, into Bremen. It was too early for there to be many folk around. The streets of Bremen were not badly battle-scarred. Shops, flats, offices, looked pretty normal. They were making for the blessed anonymity of a great railway station.
Visions of steaming cups of coffee rose before their minds’ eye. Their dry mouths longed for it. But they had a shock. They found that even a cup of ersatz coffee is rationed in Germany - and the one thing they did’nt have was food coupons. So they brought tickets to their planned destination - they asked for them at the grille with bated breath. But the tickets came and the booking-clerk didn’t bat an eyelid.
As their train steamed out of the station they relaxed. Their first great obstacle had been overcome. They had to stand in the corridor of the train, which was crowded with troops. Along came the Gestapo man that all German trains now carry. He asked for their papers. It seemed to them that he took an eternity to satisfy himself. He passed. Nearby was a German soldier inoffensively going on leave. Suddenly there was a shout. Their hearts missed a couple of hundred beats. Was this the end?
It was, nearly - but for the German soldier, not for them. There was some minor irregularity in his papers, and the Gestapo man gave him a thorough Teutonic dressing down. The two phoney seamen listened - and shook with silent laughter.
Their journey involved a number of changes of trains and some more walking. I cant tell you the route for the Nazis would like to know that. Once they got lost and had to ask a policeman the way. He couldn’t understand what they said, bust was most anxious to please! He insisted on calling a colleague who spoke Dutch! It was an awkward moment. They murmured something, assured the cop he needn’t trouble and walked away.
While they were walking through one town the air raid warning was sounded. The Germans have a similar siren to our own. It was quite a familiar sound! But the effect is different. Everyone began running to the shelter. Wardens whisked everyone off the streets, Kelleher and Campbell among them. They were glad of the chance to rest. Their feet were swollen; they hadn’t had their shoes off since they left camp. But it was a short alert, unfortunately, and they had to assume their journey once more.
Another time they had to wait overnight for a train, so they went to the station air-raid shelter, which to their surprise was also a cafe. They brought a beer - very poor beer it was, too - put their heads on the cafe table and snatched a couple of hours’ sleep.
By this time they were hungry. They had eaten the little chocolate they’d brought with them and it was time for desperate measures. They went into a cake shop and ordered coffee and cakes and devoured them. Then the time came to pay. They paid.... “And your marken?” said the woman. They realised she meant coupons. “Sorry,” they said. “We haven’t any. Were Dutch”. And that seemed to satisfy her! Another time they saw some apples in a shop, but even apples needed points, so their mouths watered in vain.
In another train they managed to get, for the first time, a seat. There were plenty of civilians on this local train. Everyone seemed gloomy and preoccupied. There was no laughter, no chatter. The people looked tired and grey-faced. Even on a cursory glance their clothes were of poor quality, although they were middle-class travellers. There were some odd assortments of clothes; you just wear what you can get in Germany, it seems, and no one bothers.
On this train the girl guard opened the door and asked fro the tickets. “Heil Hitler” she said. The two men looked quickly round the compartment to see what they should do. No one paid any attention. The girls salute was unheeded. It was the first and last time the two men heard “Heil Hitler” while they were in Germany.
It took Kelleher eighteen months to be taken from Tobruk, where he was captured when his ship was sunk, to the camp in Germany, travelling via Sicilian and Italian transit camps. It took Campbell over two tears to reach the camp after he was captured by the Italians when he crashed in November 1941. But, it took the two men just over 3 weeks to get from the camp to England and home!
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“If you were following the fortunes of Barnet Football Club during the mid 1930’s and happened to be in attendance at Underhill on Christmas morning 1935, you may remember a small strip of a lad turning out for the club at inside right. The match, a 3-3 draw, was against Enfield and although this boy did not score on his debut, it was obvious to all that he had outstanding ability. His name was Denis Kelleher and he was undoutably one of the greatest players to have played for Barnet Football Club”. Lester Finch, supporters handbook 1973.