What it’s like to escape from Colditz

Colditz: Here I am, stuck in the same ventilation shaft that Pat Reid used to escape through just over 70 years ago. It’s a tiny letterbox-shaped hole, about three feet in length, one of the few natural holes through the castle’s monstrously thick outer walls. Captain Pat Reid and his fellow escapers had to strip off naked in order to shimmy through. It’s a cold day and even unclothed I’m far too well-fed to get through the gap, though Steffi, our well-informed guide, tells us ‘two English boys managed it last year, though you have to go through on your back, otherwise your knees get stuck’.

My own Colditz mania was fed as a child by living up the road from Brigadier Jock Hamilton-Baillie, whose homemade sewing machine is on display in the Colditz museum. It was designed for making civvy clothes, and also theatrical costumes. Jock gave talks in our village every year for the Red Cross and was as proud of the high-heeled shoes he made for a Colditz revue as he was of his escape attempts. ‘The boredom,’ he used to say, ‘that was the real enemy.’

Colditz has been open to visitors for a while, but until recently the Germans tried to play down its significance. Finally they have relented and embraced the whole escape thing as something rather glorious and ingenious.

The most ingenious of all was ‘Mad’ Mike Sinclair, who took part in nine escapes from Colditz; he raised escaping to an art form. In his ‘Franz Joseph’ attempt he learnt the particular speech mannerisms of an elderly German NCO nicknamed (because of his huge moustache) Franz Joseph. Sinclair had a replica uniform made, a wig, moustache and a high cap with polished peak. Every sentry except the last fell for it.