Campbell Family

Sunday Pictorial 1944
The Greatest Escape Story of The War

FROM GERMANY IN 22 DAYS!

Kelleher and Campbell...two British naval officers whose courage and
iron nerves brought them from a German prison camp, through an amazing
series of adventures, home to England.

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 any 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 RNVR, 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, "Hullo 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 as 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 he is - he has been thrice capped by Ireland. Campbell is over
6ft tall, slim, looking like a shy boy from college - in fact he left
college at the outbreak of 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 fool-proof 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 out that
even a cup of ersatz coffee is rationed in Germany and the one thing
they didn't have was food coupons.

So they bought tickets to their planned destinations 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 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 phony seamen listened - and
shook with silent laughter.

Their journey involved a number of changes of trains and some more
walking. I can't 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, but 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 the 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
resume 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 café.

They bought a beer - very poor beer it was too - put their heads on the
café table and snatched a couple of hours' sleep.

By this time they were very 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. We're 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. And 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 for 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 went unheeded.
It was the first and last time the two men heard a "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 years to reach the camp after he was captured
by the Italians when he crashed in November 1941.

But it took the two men over three weeks to get from the camp to
England and home!


        The Sunday Pictorial was launched by Rothermere in 1915 as a major
        photo-journal. Circulation reached 1,700,000 in 1941 with a series of
        articles by Winston Churchill. In 1963 the paper was relaunched as the
        Sunday Mirror.]