The One who (Almost) Got Away.

Leutnant Heinz Schnabel, 1/JG3.

Most people are familiar with the story of Franz von Werra, the pilot who was the only German to escape from captivity in the West, and return to Germany to continue his service. His story has been well documented, in books, magazines, and in a movie, entitled ‘The one that got away’ , starring Hardy Kruger as von Werra. Perhaps not so well known is the story of another Luftwaffe ‘ace’, Leutnant Heinz Schnabel who, together with Oberleutnant Harry Wappler, carried out an audacious escape attempt which very nearly succeeded. Heinz Schnabel was a 29 year old fighter pilot with the First Staffel, of 1 Gruppe, Jagdgeschwader 3 (1/JG3), equipped with the Messerschmitt Bf109E, and based at Colombert, due east of Boulogne, France, in September 1940. He had already gained ‘ace’ status, by shooting down three R.A.F. Blenheims during the , and three Spitfires, the most recent being on 28 th August, but not without cost. During an air battle over France earlier in the year, he had sustained a bullet wound in the lungs and, semi-conscious, force-landed his ‘Emil’. With this wound not completely healed, it transpired that he would never regain full health, but he eventually rejoined his unit to continue flying and fighting.

On the morning of 5th September, at the height of the , JG3 were tasked, along with other units, with escorting a force of Heinkel He111 and Dornier Do17 bombers on a raid against . The formation consisted of around 140 bombers, escorted by a total of approximately 280 fighters, with targets around the East End and docks of the City, and the south-east suburbs. Part of the force was to attack Croydon airport, with the intention of drawing-off the R.A.F. fighters whilst the main attack was made against Biggin Hill. Leutnant Schnabel was flying Bf109E4, W.Nr 1985, ‘White 6’ which, it is thought, was not his regular mount. This aircraft was finished in a colour scheme of RLM 65 on the under surfaces and fuselage sides, with a ‘splinter’ pattern of RLM 71 and RLM 02 on the upper surfaces, the fuselage colour demarcation being level with the bottom of the cockpit canopy, and the fuselage sides had a light mottle of RLM 02. The tips of the main wings, and the entire rudder, were painted white, and the aircraft carried the white ‘Tatzelwurm’ badge of 1/JG3 on both sides of the engine cowling. The spinner was half white, half RLM 70, with a white tip. Two black ‘ Abschuss zeichen’, or ‘kill’ markings, were displayed on the top of the rudder, thought to be those of another pilot. The white number ‘6’ was in the ‘square’ style, and wider than was normal.

Bf109E4, W.Nr.1985, ‘White 6’, 1/JG3. (Profile from Jagdwaffe vol 2, by Eric Mombeek. )

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The R.A.F. did not fall for the feint attack on Croydon, which was bombed again, but intercepted the bombers on their return, with fighters including the Hurricanes of 79 Squadron, and 41 Squadron’s Spitfires, attacking the bombers and their escorts. Schnabel’s Messerschmitt was hit and damaged, and once again he had to make a forced- landing, which he accomplished, although not without severely damaging his aircraft even more, in a field at Handen Farm, near Aldington, north-west of Folkestone, in Kent. The Messerschmitt landed heavily at 10:10 hours, GMT, crumpling the port wing tip, and pushing the engine out of the engine mounts, with the cowlings buckled and dislodged. Heinz Schnabel suffered injuries also, seriously enough to be in a plaster corset for some time afterwards. Coincidentally, at exactly the same time, Franz von Werra, of Stab, II/JG3, a victim of the same air battle, crash-landed his Bf109 at Marden, south of Maidstone in Kent.

Schnabel’s ‘White 6’ in the field near Aldington. (Flugzeug magazine via R Conyers Nesbit and Jagdwaffe vol 2 .)

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After receiving medical treatment, and when recovered enough to be moved, Schnabel would have been sent to the London District ‘Cage’, at 8, Kensington Palace Gardens (now replaced by a modern apartment building), which was the Reception Centre for new P.o.W.’s. From there, he would have gone on to Air Intelligence 1(k), Camp Number 10, at Cockfosters in , north of London, the equivalent to the Luftwaffe’s interrogation centre at Dulag Luft, at Oberwesel, Bavaria, where basic interrogation would have taken place. This was routine, in an attempt to gain information about Luftwaffe units, equipment, tactics etc. Apparently, Schnabel did not disclose any information of value, and the British interrogators found him ‘of good morale’. He was soon moved to a permanent camp, in the , in the far north west of England. This was Camp Number 1, at Hall, an old, sprawling stone-built ‘country house’, deep in , in what was then the County of Cumberland, now . (It was from this camp the von Werra made his first escape attempt). Today, only an outline of some of the foundations remain, but in 1940 the imposing Hall and its grounds were surrounded by high barbed wire fences, with guard towers, sentries and dog patrols, and searchlights which played across the grounds at night. It was here, at Grizedale, that Schnabel met Oberleutnant Harry Wappler, a pilot from 8/KG27 ‘Boelcke’, who’s Heinkel He111Ps were based at Rennes. Wappler, a little under one year younger than Schnabel, had been captured on the night of September 12 th, on his fourteenth operation, after a raid on Ellesmere Port, on the south bank of the River Mersey, opposite Liverpool. After bombing the target at 02:30 hours, and without observing the results, Wappler set course for the return flight. Over Newport, in (then) Monmouthshire, Wales, the Heinkel, W.Nr. 2670, coded 1G + DS, collided with a barrage balloon cable at 6, 500 feet (1,950 m), an unusually high altitude, as the balloons normally ‘flew’ at around 5,000 feet (1,500 m). The Heinkel was slewed around by the impact, and the aircraft’s cutting links worked as intended, severing the cable. Unfortunately, the cable dragged behind the wing and fouled that of another balloon, sending the Heinkel into a steep, uncontrollable dive. After shouting orders to abandon the aircraft, Wappler bailed out, deployed his parachute, and landed heavily in Queens Street, Newport, breaking his right forearm and being knocked unconscious. It is not known if the rest of the crew were unable to leave the aircraft, or perhaps did not hear the order, but whatever the reason, they all went down with the Heinkel, which hit the ground and careered into the ground floor of a house in Stow Park Avenue, Newport, bursting into flames and engulfing the house. Out of the family of four, asleep in the house, the son and daughter perished, despite an attempt by the son to rescue the girl. Only Mr. And Mrs. Phillips survived. The Heinkel crew, observer, Unteroffizier Fritz Berndt, radio operator Oberfeldwebel Johannes Elster, and the flight engineer, Unteroffizier Herbert Okuneck, were all killed in the crash.

At Grizedale, Wappler and Schnabel, who had the nickname ‘Hannibal’, due to his short stature, became good friends and, as time passed and it became evident that the expected invasion of Britain was not to be, they talked of planning an escape. Soon, it was winter, and the likelihood of making good an escape, and surviving in the harsh climate and inhospitable terrain of the Lake District lessened any chances of success, and plans were shelved until the spring. Not long after, in early 1941, both Officers were transferred to a new camp, Camp Number 15, approximately 25 miles (40 km) to the east of Grizedale, and 12 miles (20 km) south of Penrith, at the former Shap Wells Hotel, commandeered for the duration as a P.o.W. camp, and today an extended, modernised hotel in the Best Western Group. The hotel, like

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Grizedale Hall, was surrounded by barbed wire fences, and patrolled by the usual guards and dogs, and again, searchlights swept the grounds at night, at which time prisoners were locked in their rooms, following the usual roll call, a practice which was also repeated a further three times, during the course of each day. The prisoners kept themselves occupied during daylight hours, by working at handicrafts, and landscaping part of the grounds, something which was to aid the eventual escape plan. They were also allowed out, under armed guard, to collect firewood and for exercise, and it was during these outings that ‘intelligence’ was gathered concerning the immediate surroundings and local area. By mid 1941, it was soon discovered that the main London, Midland and Scottish (LMS) railway line, the route from London to Glasgow, passed close by the camp, over Shap Bank. This was a notoriously steep gradient on the rail line, where heavily–laden trains slowed, almost to walking pace, on the long climb to the summit. It was also noticed that aircraft, R.A.F. training types such as Tiger Moths and Magisters, flew overhead daily, when weather permitted, and that they always departed to the north. By some means unknown, the German prisoners found out that these aircraft were from R.A.F. Kingstown, the former civil aerodrome just to the north of Carlisle, and came up with a plan to reconnoitre the airfield. After complaining that the dental treatment received at the camp was acutely painful, prisoners were allowed to be taken by road, and under guard, to a dentist near Carlisle. The route passed alongside Kingstown aerodrome and, under the excuse that they needed to stop and relieve themselves, they were able to view the field, making mental notes of the location of hangars, dispersal areas and so on. Kingstown was the ‘home’ to No.15 Elementary Flying Training School (15 EFTS), which had moved there from Redhill, in Surrey, in June 1940, away from the danger and disruption of the ‘front line’. It was here that many Polish personnel, already qualified pilots, and straining at the leash to be given Spitfires and let loose at ‘the Hun’, had to undergo the British training system, whilst at the same time learning English, much to their disgust and frustration.

Leutnant Heinz Schnabel, 1/JG3 Oberleutnant Harry Wappler, 8/KG27 (Archiv Olejnik ) (Archiv Wappler )

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As the months passed, the two pilots finalised their plans, and new identifications and disguises were produced. They would wear their Luftwaffe uniforms, in order to avoid being convicted as spies and executed if re-captured, but would have re-tailored coats over the top, with buttons covered in foil and resembling the R.A.F. pattern, and caps altered to resemble the British uniform style. They would also carry mock-ups of the standard Service-issue gas mask case. Although these items weren’t totally accurate, there were so many ‘foreign’ uniforms around in Britain at that time, from Australian, Canadian, Polish, French and other Forces, that it was hoped they would pass casual scrutiny. Papers were forged for both men, which showed that they were Dutch officers serving in the R.A.F. as experts in airfield defence, particularly against airborne invasion, and were engaged in advising in these matters to stations in the north of England. Schnabel was given the identity of Pilot Officer George Henry David, whilst Wappler became Flight Lieutenant Harry Graven. Both men spoke some English and, as the average British person could not tell the difference between a Dutch accent and a German accent, it was thought, and hoped, that this would be enough to bluff their way past most civilians, who could be more inquisitive than Service personnel. The date for the escape was selected to coincide with a period of thick fog, which would help mask their activities from the camp guards in the watch towers, and assist with their plan, which was to steal an aircraft and fly to freedom ! The date chosen for the escape was Monday, 24 th November, 1941. During the landscaping of the grounds of the hotel prison camp, carried out by the prisoners, a shallow irrigation ditch had been dug, and rhododendron bushes planted at intervals along its edges to provide cover. This ditch lead to the large stack of firewood, gathered during the prisoners’ outings and, built into this woodpile, were two cavities, each just large enough to conceal a man. Schnabel and Wappler donned tough overalls over their clothes on the afternoon of Sunday, 23 rd November and hid in the woodpile. By a clever system of deceptions, involving other prisoners swapping places, and rooms, during roll calls, via previously prepared concealed trap doors, the abscence of the two pilots went unnoticed by the guards. When darkness fell, Schnabel and Wappler worked their way along the irrigation ditch to the wire fence and, using a scissor-like implement made in the camp workshops from wood, prised apart the strands of barbed wire and scrambled through the fence. They then walked to the railway line at Shap Bank and, as a slow-moving goods train passed, they clambered onboard one of the trucks, concealing themselves, one at each end. When the train stopped at Carlisle, they removed their overalls, climbed down from the truck, and made their way into the town, where they went to a cinema. At the end of the programme they left, joining the groups of airmen walking back to R.A.F. Kingstown, roughly two miles (3.2 km) distant. Although the sentry at the gate flashed a torch at them, he apologised, presuming they were ‘foreign’ officers, and they passed through, onto the station, where they hid behind a hangar to await daylight.

In the morning, Schnabel and Wappler watched, undetected, as most of the forty or so Miles Magisters on the airfield departed on training flights. Observing two Magisters still parked on the far side of the aerodrome, away from the main concentration of buildings, and personnel, they made their way there. They were observed as they approached by the civilian Chief Engineer of ‘A’ Flight, Mr. J.P. O’Hara, who had no reason to suspect these two ‘foreign looking’ men, as there were so many other nationalities among the servicemen at Kingstown. The two Luftwaffe officers approached one of the aircraft, with the fuselage code ‘29’, and the serial number R1967, and Harry Wappler spoke to the young civilian attending it, an apprentice by the name of Alan Graydon, telling him that they (Wappler and Schnabel) had

5 been ordered to carry out a taxiing test on the Magister. Although Graydon thought it slightly odd that neither officer had a parachute, which fitted into the bucket seat and acted as a cushion, and was required in order to sit at the right angle and height, he was not overly concerned, or suspicious, and assumed that the two men were , and didn’t realise that the parachutes would be needed. Graydon suggested that he should fold the tarpaulins, used to cover the open cockpits and engine cowlings overnight, and place these in the seats, the practice used by ground crew when they had to taxi the aircraft. When this was done, and Graydon had hand-swung the propeller after Schnabel’s first failed attempt, he pulled the chocks clear and watched as Wappler and Schnabel moved off in the Magister. Although somewhat surprised when the aircraft taxied to the end of the grass runway and took off, he just thought the two men were ‘crazy Poles’, disobeying orders. Nevertheless, Graydon informed Mr. O’Hara that the two men who had just taken off in the Magister were not wearing parachutes. O’Hara immediately went to his office and telephoned the Station Commander, who, after verifying that there were no available instructors or pupils who could have taken the aircraft, telephoned Group Headquarters, and started the chain of events which would eventually establish the identity of the two ‘foreigners’. *

A Miles Magister primary trainer, in the pre-war, overall ‘Trainer Yellow’ colour scheme. A tandem, two-seat, open-cockpit aircraft, it was powered by a 130 hp D.H. Gipsy Major I engine, which gave a maximum speed of 132 mph at 1,000 feet, and a cruising speed of 123 mph. Maximum range was approximately 380 miles (611 km). (original source unknown .) *

The Magister, or ‘Maggie’ as it was known in the R.A.F., was the first monoplane trainer to enter service with the R.A.F., in 1937, and was of all wood construction, and a development of the civilian Hawk Trainer. The one taken by Schnabel and Wappler had Trainer Yellow under surfaces, with Dark Green and Dark Earth disruptive camouflage on the upper surfaces. The fuel gauges were of the ‘float’ type, mounted on the upper surfaces of the wings, and the instruments were rudimentary, consisting of the ‘basic six’, and a compass, plus temperature and pressure gauges. The only means of communication between the front and rear cockpits was by ‘Gosport Tube’, a flexible ‘speaking tube’ which required the use of a helmet with the necessary earphones, equipment which the Luftwaffe escapees did not possess. Apart from their overcoats, neither man had adequate flying clothing either and, at that time of year, the conditions in the open cockpits must have been uncomfortable, to say the least.

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Schnabel and Wappler had discussed their intended destination, and alternatives, with the ‘Escape Committee’ at Shap Wells, and it was suggested that they make for neutral Eire (Southern Ireland), which was under 150 miles (241 km) flying distance from Carlisle. However, this would have meant internment for the duration of the war, and neither man wished to face this certainty. They planned instead to head south-east, cross the English coast, and fly across the to Holland. As this was a total distance of around 365 miles (587 km) they were not sure if a small training aircraft would have the range, and so decided to land somewhere en-route, and bluff their way into obtaining fuel. If nothing else, their plan was exceedingly audacious !

Now, they were on their way, flying the first leg of their outrageously bold flight, at an altitude of around 2,000 feet (600 m), with the temperature just above freezing. There was a light wind from the south-east, on the starboard beam, with low cloud and some hill fog, and visibility was only about two miles (3.2 km). Harry Wappler had brought a small map from Shap Wells, and was able to identify Leeds, slightly over half way to their intended crossing point on the east coast of England. The Magister crossed the Wash, the large bight in the east coast between Lincolnshire and Norfolk, and headed out across the bleak and unforgiving North Sea. Not knowing the range of the little Magister, Wappler, who had found out how to operate the fuel cocks, checked the gauges on the wings, and saw that they were indicating red – danger level. To continue would have meant certain death, as, if they ditched in the icy cold North Sea, the chances of rescue would have been nil, and without life jackets or dinghy, they would either drown, or die of hypothermia. Reluctantly, the two men turned back towards the English coast, Wappler flying with one wing low, to drain the last of the fuel from the tanks. At that point, they had flown 325 miles (523 km). The Magister crossed the Norfolk coast and made a good landing in a meadow at Scratby, approximately five miles (8 km) north of Great Yarmouth, and just inland from the coast road. As local people rushed to help the ‘R.A.F. pilots’, Schnabel and Wappler continued their bluff, saying they were Dutch airmen heading for Croydon, and had lost their way due to the poor flying conditions. Although they requested petrol, they did not have any money or Ration Coupons (Virtually everything was on ration in the UK during WW2, especially fuel.), although this would have made little difference, as even the public knew that aircraft required a higher octane fuel than motor cars. However, there was no suspicion on the part of the civilians, who could see that the aircraft wore R.A.F. markings, and soon, a Police Sergeant named Fisk arrived, and took charge of the situation, checking the airmen’s identity papers, which he apparently accepted as genuine. Schnabel and Wappler were taken to the Police Station at Caister, a small town nearby, whilst a Police Constable stood guard over the Magister. Here, they were advised to contact the R.A.F. airfield at Horsham-St-Faith, on the edge of Norwich (now Norwich International Airport), which was about 15 miles (24 km) away. This they did, with Wappler speaking to the Duty Officer and explaining they were Dutch officers in need of fuel. Wappler was informed that this could not be arranged until the following morning, but a truck would be sent to bring them to the airfield, where they would be accommodated for the night. Although alarming and disturbing news for the two Luftwaffe officers, they had no choice other than to comply, and continue with their bluff, and pray that they would succeed. The time was now around 16.00 hours on a November evening, and it was already growing dark.

*

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Map of the British Isles showing the Key Locations mentioned in the text.

1 Schnabel’s crash site at Aldington 2 Shap Wells P.o.W Camp 3 Kingstown Aerodrome 4 Scratby, where Schnabel and Wappler landed for fuel

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Schnabel and Wappler were taken to the house of the local Schoolmaster, Mr. W.W. Page, to await the arrival of the transport to Horsham-St-Faith airfield. They were given tea whilst they waited, and eventually departed with the good wishes of the local people. On arrival at the R.A.F. station, the ‘home’ of 139 Squadron at that time, equipped with Bristol Blenheim Mk I’s and Mk IV’s, they were escorted to the Officer’s Mess and allocated a room. Hardly believing their luck so far, Schnabel and Wappler both took a bath and relaxed. Meanwhile, a message arrived at Horsham-St-Faith, and was given to an administration officer, Flying Officer V.P. Brooks, who had just been told of the arrival of the two ‘Dutch’ officers. The message was informing all R.A.F. stations in the country that a Magister had been stolen from Kingstown by two escaped German officers. The game was up. Brooks immediately informed the Station Commander, Group Captain J.N.D. Anderson, and the two men, armed with their service .38 revolvers, and accompanied by some airmen, went immediately to the first floor of the Officer’s Mess, where they arrested Schnabel and Wappler. After giving them dinner that night, and apparently congratulating them on their effort with the words “I’m sorry gentlemen, you deserved better luck”, Anderson then handed them over to the relevant authorities.

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Heinz Schnabel and Harry Wappler were both given 28 days solitary confinement, the standard ‘punishment’ for escape attempts, as it was with allied P.o.W.’s in German camps, and eventually, in the spring of 1942, they were both sent to , along with many other German Prisoners of War. (It was from Canada that Franz von Werra eventually made his escape, via the of America, to , Panama, and, eventually, back to Germany, only to lose his life when the engine of his Bf109 failed over the North Sea on 25 th November, 1941, the day after the escape of Schnabel and Wappler.)

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Heinz Schnabel never fully recovered from the wound to his lung sustained during the Battle of France. Whilst in Canada, he developed tuberculosis, and was so ill, he was repatriated back to Germany. His home in Altenburg, Thuringia, lay in the path of the advancing Russian Army, and his fate is unknown. In the late 1980s, it was thought that he had died many years previously.

Harry Wappler was more fortunate, remaining in a P.o.W. camp in Canada until the end of the war. In post-war West Germany, he eventually became a successful businessman. He passed away on 21st December 1985.

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The 1/32 nd scale model of Schnabel’s Be109E, built by the author.

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The above information was collected during research for the completion of a 1/32 nd scale model of Heinz Schnabel’s Messerschmitt, commemorating the 70 th Anniversary of the Battle of Britain. A full account of the build of this model can be found in the ‘Modelling’ section of WW2aircraft.net forum, in the ‘Group Builds’ section, describing and illustrating the use of the old (1970s) ‘Matchbox’ kit.

(The above work is based on an account in ‘Failed to Return’, by Roy Conyers Nesbit, and the author’s own archive material)

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The Airframes Studio

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