After 2 or 3 days we were quite weary and were getting very hungry as the uneaten waffles were getting stale and were like trying to eat the shingles off a house.  We came upon a school building out in the country, a small boarding school for boys, and went up and knocked on the door.  A youngster about 16 years old answered our knock and we tried to tell him in our best French (which was practically none) that we were Americans and we were hungry and asked if he could help us.  He listened for a few minutes and being like our smart-alec teenagers, kind of smiled, and said, "Are you Americans?" and we replied, "Yes, we are." and he said, "Then why don't you speak English?" And his English was quite good.  We told him what our problem was and he said, "I'm sorry, I can't help you." and went inside and closed the door.  That was the last we saw of him.
In discussing this encounter, Floyd and I decided that the boy was afraid that we were Gestapo agents trying to entrap him into helping our Allied people and he was afraid, or his school teacher, or whoever ran the place, was afraid to help us out.  We left the school in great haste and continued on our journey.
One morning, and I don't remember how many days we were in this area--not many--we woke early (we'd been sleeping on the ground out in the woods) we heard a lady singing "On the Road to Mandalay" at the top of her voice.  We immediately got up and went to the fence separating woods where we were sleeping from the open field, and saw this lady cutting across the field, still singing.  I waved at her and she came over to the fence where we were.  We conversed a few minutes in British -- I mean, English -- hers was definitely a British accent -- and she told us to follow her and she could take us to get something to eat at a nearby farmhouse.  Well, we didn't have much choice.  I guess we could have run but she was quite friendly and after we told her we were Americans she smiled and told us that she would help us.

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"It rained pretty hard most of the night and a bull in the pasture came up to our fence, which was about 10 feet from where we sleeping. He serenaded us with his deep voice until daybreak and then he went away. A couple of hours later Mrs. Eva Prison and her 12 year old son started walking across the pasture the bull was in. Since I didn't know how tame the bull was I walked down to where they were to warn them about the bull. She was singing "It's a long way to Tipparary" in English. I was concerned with her safety and didn't realize she was singing in English. As I came near her, she said "are you one of the Americans?" I said yes. She asked where is the other one and where did you sleep last night. I told them under the trees. She said I can see you are a little wet. As we were walking up to where we slept and I introduced them to Dave she said "I am going to take you to a farm house and you can have some breakfast." They had us put on some day clothes so they could dry ours while we ate. You really appreciate a good meal after waffles for four days. They had an old fashioned wash tub that they bathed in so we accepted their offer to use it. Hadn't had a bath for a few days so we appreciated that luxury also. We visited for a while and then they told us to go back to the timber and sleep where we did the night before and two men in a truck would come down in an old truck and stop on the road and whistle. When we heard the whistle we were to come out to the truck and get in the back. The old truck had a gadget on the back where we were, that looked like an old hot water heater and it had a fire in the bottom of it that was burning wood. I never had a chance to have them expain how it operated but somehow it produced gas that operated the engine. As we rode along we would stick some wood in the bottom to keep the fire going so the engine would continue to run. We went down some little used roads, crossed some fields, crossed two small streams and after going on a path through a timber and past a small cement block building there was an open field. We stopped and they explained: there were five or six fellows about the age of Dave and me that lived in this building. They were a part of the underground and tried to do their part in defending their land from the Germans. The open field was large

                                                           44

 enough for planes from England could fly low and drop supplies for the underground. They wanted Dave and me to spend the night here so Dave could direct the plane in the dropping of the canisters that the supplies were in. The supplies consisted of guns, ammunition and explosives. They wanted Dave and me to stay and show them how to use the guns and help them to blow up some bridges. We declined their offer but we did help them put the guns together and show them how to use them. Later an underground person came to move us on. They insisted that we take one of the English bren guns, a small machine gun. The underground person lead us cross county to a small village and on to a farm which consisted of a man, his wife and his daughter. They served us a very good meal and we were able to converse with people that couldn't speak very much English and we couldn't speak very much Flemish (half dutch and half french). When it was time to sleep the daughter took us to a small building some distance from the house on the edge of a pasture. She told us some one would come in the morning to move us to another place. 

"We walked until 9 o'clock and started looking for a place to hide and sleep. We found a small timber with a lot of trees so we each found a tree and went to sleep with our raincoats over us. We were both awake before 6 o'clock and could see the people going to work walking or on their bicycles. We thought it would be best if we waited until the rush was over before we started. We walked till noon when we came to a village with a few houses and a crossroad that had a pump in the middle of the intersection. There wasn't anyone in sight so we sat down and ate one of our waffles. It tasted good and we washed it down with water. We sat for a few minutes then started walking again. We didn't have a lot to talk about. We had lived together for three months both doing the same thing. Seeing the same people, hoping the same things so we didn't have much to talk about while we were walking. There wasn't much to see so we just kept walking until almost 10 o'clock. We found another grove of trees to sleep under. The next day we started walking about 7 o'clock. We hadn't had any water the day before and we had one 

                                                        45

waffle left so we waited until noon before we tried to eat it. If you want to do something different some time, go without water for 30 some hours then try to eat a waffle that is three days old. That last waffle kept getting bigger and bigger. Finally I said to Dave don't you think we better ask for some water. He agreed and the next farm house was close to the road so we went up to the door and knocked. A boy about 12 years old came to the door. He had a smile on his face and I tried to say water please. He said why don't you speak English. I can speak English. We have been watching for you
 I asked how did you know we were coming? We pass the word along to our neighbors. He gave us all the water we wanted. We thanked him and complimented him on his good English. Dave and I were refreshed and walked on to the next village. This next village had a Catholic church so we thought maybe the priest could help us. He said he was afraid to help because he thought someone in the village might report him to the Germans (a priest of little faith). He told us to ask at two other houses. No one answered the door at either. So Dave and I went into a small timber and slept under the trees." 

We followed the lady to the farmhouse where she fed us.  Her 

husband was a Belgian and during World War I they had met, fell in love, and
 
were married.  She had been part of the nursing staff with the British 

Expeditionary Forces.  After we finished our breakfast I asked the Belgian 

farmer how he knew where we were.  He said, "We've been keeping our eye on you 

for the last two or three days."
Obviously, they were part of the Belgian Underground and we had been spotted by other members of that organization as we walked and word was passed from farm to farm down the road as we went along.  Since they couldn't make up their mind as to our identity (we could have been German deserters, evading Jews, etc.) they decided to try to see if we needed help or were 

                         46

Germans in disguise. We understand that as the American Army swept up toward Liege there were a lot of German soldiers that changed their uniforms to civilian clothes and tried to escape the wrath of the conquering Allies by getting away.  Some of these men were captured and some were not, of course.
This kind farmer arranged to load us on to a truck and I don't know how he managed to get the nerve to do so, and hauled us for a few miles--about 4 or 5 I guess--and off the main road on to a dirt road that led down through a creek and over a low water bridge (across a river really) to a spot in the woods where he let us out.  Incidentally, this was a wood-burning truck.  It had a large wood-burning stove in the back of the truck that produced, I guess, methane gas and that's what the truck ran on.  It wasn't very efficient but it was all the fuel they had, so that's what they used.  It was very dangerous for our farmer to take his truck out on the highway because should the Germans have found it, the truck would have been confiscated immediately.
"A man came the next morning to take us to our new dwelling place. It was the first of July and we were used to sleeping in the out of doors. The weather was hot and pretty dry. We walked past several farm houses: one was a very large house with a few smaller buildings near. It had a large stone wall that encircled the area of all the buildings. The small narrow road that ran to the left of the buildings went on down to a chateau which was close to the river. The road turned just before it came to the chateau and it ended about 200 yards at the river. There was a pine timber to the 

                                    47

left of road before the road turned and our guide turned into the tember. We walked in the timber about 15 feet from the path they called a road. When we got down to where the road turned our guide said "this is where we think would be the best place to make your camp." The tarp was there and the weather balloon, that the English had sent up. The allies used the balloons to report the weather by radio the night before the bombers mission over Europe. The balloons were set to stay in the air for a specified time then they crashed. 

"The man helped us tie the tarp up for the roof and we spread the balloon on the ground for our bed. They had also brought some straw that we placed on the ground under the balloon. They had brought some rope that we strung around the area on three sides that we wove pine branches to form walls. The burp gun that the fellows forced us to take at the supply drop we buried about 150 feet from our shelter if the Germans had found it in our camp they could of taken us prisoners or shot us. We didn't want either to happen." 

At this spot there was a Belgian farmer who could not speak English, but the farmer who had brought us told us that he would take care of us.  Although there was no shelter of any kind in this wooded area, we walked perhaps 30 or 40 yards from an open field into the woods and there made our camp.  In this location was a weather balloon about 8 x 10 feet made out of heavy rubber and probably had been launched from England and landed in the area and was salvaged.  It served the purpose of covering up the sticks and rocks covering the ground and this became our bed.  We had an old quilt for cover.

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I suppose by this time it was mid-July or thereabouts -- maybe a little later.  We were there only a few days when a motorcycle arrived that carried a priest and another pilot, Jules Blake, who had been shot down a few weeks earlier. He was a B-17 pilot and had been staying in Liege and for some reason had to leave there so they brought him down to stay with us.  Now we were three.
Each morning the farmer brought us a jug of hot milk and in the evening he would bring us what he could, usually some kind of stew.  We tried raiding a field full of vegetables and were able to bring in some onions, carrots and potatoes, etc., which we cooked up but upon testing our meal, found that without salt it was inedible and threw our cooking out.  But all in all we ate pretty well while we were at this place.
The underground made the provisions for us to stay here because the Germans were starting to retreat and it was too risky for the farmers to get caught helping us. The Germans just shot them but would take us prisoners. During the day Dave and I would play honeymoon bridge and lay in the sun. We started playing honeymoon bridge when we were in Amsterdam in our spare time. It did help to pass the time of day. Now that many years have passed it is hard to imagine just sitting around with nothing to do. We did watch the sky for our planes to fly over on their missions and then to see some of them come back. We often saw planes that were hit by flack and damaged so bad they couldn't continue all the way back and the men would have to bail out. Dave and I knew what these men were thinking. It is unbelievable but you don't think about dying. You only think about what you are going to do when you hit the ground. Often older men would come to see us: we would sit in a squatting position and try to converse. By pointing and saying words we were able to teach each other some of the basic words. 

                                                          49

The chateau was close enough to us so we could see it from our camp. The owners of the chateau came one weekend to spend a few days and they were told we were nearby so they asked us to have dinner with them. They were from Brussels and had a factory that made tires so they were allowed to have a car and fuel to operate it. It was a one of the great days we had. 

On past the chateau there was a good swimming hole. A catholic priest and the young people of the area would come down there. One day the priest stopped to visit with us and I asked him if it would be alright if we went swimming. He told us that they could only swim after four o'clock because they were supposed to be working before that. He said if we had something to wear in the water we could go swimming with them. The next day I asked the woman when she brought us the food if she would bring me scissors, a needle and thread. She couldn't imagine why I would ask for them, I told her I wanted to make some swimming trunks so Dave and I could go swimming in the river. Dave and I both had light weight raincoats so I took the linings out, since we both wore jockey shorts I used them for a pattern and cut out swimming trunks and sewed them up. In order to keep them up I made a strap with a button hole, took a button off the raincoat and we went swimming when the other young folks went swimming. 

As time passed we could see a main road about 1/2 mile on the other side of the valley. The Germans started retreating on this road, and any thing that would roll was going up this road. Dave and I were sitting in our dwelling one morning eating our bread and jam and we heard a vehicle coming down the little used road past our camp. Our camp was just a few feet from the road and this vehicle had a cannon on the front and there were several German soldiers in it. It went roaring past us and turned left to follow the path north down to the river. They could see other of their vehicles going up the road on the other side of the valley but they couldn't get there so they came roaring back by us. They couldn't see us but we were as close to them as we wanted to be. We knew it wouldn't be long before our troops would be close to us." 

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Only one event happened while we were at this location.  A British
 
airplane came over one night and dropped a couple of men and a lot of supplies

to a group of the underground people.  The underground people asked us to come

along with them and run the radio for them so they could talk to the pilot of

the plane in this operation, which we did.  One of the men who came in the

plane with the equipment that was dropped was a Belgian sergeant who had been

in England some time serving in the British Army, and the other was a British

Captain who was accustomed to this kind of work, probably a Commando
.
At any rate, he had, in addition to explosives to blow up some bridges, some guns, mostly Bren guns, made by the British.  They asked us to help the men handle the weapons, to show them how to handle the weapons, to load them, etc., which we did.  Most of these underground people at this point were just farmers with no knowledge of weapons and no military training whatsoever.  They asked us to go with them on their escapade, blowing up bridges and this and that and the other, and after talking it over, Jules Blake put it very bluntly, he said, "If we get into a fight, there's going to be three of us standing there fighting and the rest of them are going to run."  And that's just about what happened.  The group were discovered a few days later by a German patrol and the ones that were not wounded abandoned their weapons and ran off.
Somewhere around the middle of September the Americans caught up with the Germans right in our area and we ended up in the middle of an artillery duel with the Americans on one side of the hill with a little river running through it, and the Germans on the other side.  Shell were being lobbed back and forth and it seemed obvious that the Germans were in pretty 

                          51

good retreat and that it would only be a matter of a few days when the American troops would overrun our area.
The villagers told us on September 6th that the Americans were in the villages to the southwest of us and the troops had been told by the villagers that we were there. The forces both German and allies were shooting cannons over our heads: we were in no man's land. The farmer that lived in the big farm house that had a big stone fence around it came to us and told us that all the villagers were going to spend the night in the basement of their house. They thought it would be safer there. A few days before this the priest brought another pilot to join us. We went up to join the villagers and when they were getting ready to go to the basement I asked the farmer who was going to sleep in the beds upstairs. He said no one -- we are afraid to with the shells going over our heads. I asked if we could sleep in them and he said we could. I told him the shells were going over us and that it was only the allies shells and they wouldn't fall on us and the Germans were not shooting back, they were too busy going the other way. 

"The next morning we got up and the farmer let us use his razor Dave and I had finished shaving and we were watching the villagers in the courtyard anxious to see the U.S. Soldiers. Shortly a jeep with a driver and an officer came through the gate. They all went over to the jeep and they didn't have room for the soldiers to get out. The villagers had brought their wine bottles to celebrate. After a short celebration the visiting soldiers said where are the Americans? We all looked alike to them in street clothes. We held up our arms and said "here we are" they said "are you ready to leave" we assured them we were and got into the jeep and they took us back to the troops." 

Consequently, one night the farmer asked the three of us to come up and spend the night at his house, which we did.  All of the farmer's family plus a few neighbors went down into the basement.  This house was built out of 

                               52

heavy stone and the basement was quite large and could accommodate all of these people.  But Floyd, Jules and I discovered some feather beds up on the top floor and that's where we decided to spend the night regardless of the shells bursting here and there, the windows rattling, etc.  We hadn't been in a real bed in so long we decided this was the thing to do.
The next morning we were invited to have breakfast which we did and afterward the farmer told us we could shave with his razor.  This was a real treat.  We had not used a good razor in a long time and certainly had no hot water with which to shave!  He had a straight razor which both Jules and I used but I don't think Floyd had used one of this type very much (if at all).  I shaved first, then Jules began his shave and finished one side when a Jeep drove up in the courtyard containing an army captain and sergeant.  Some lady in the neighborhood knew where we were and directed them to the house.  Blake immediately wiped his face with a towel without finishing the shave and the three of us piled into the Jeep saying thanks to the farmer as we left.  We were actually in No-Man's-Land so to speak and it was about 2 miles to the unit these men belonged to.  It was a field artillery battery that belonged to the Third Army but was attached to the First Army to support the drive to Leige and on to Aachen, Germany.  We were asked a few questions to make sure that we were who we said we were, then taken to the mess hall (a field stove and other equipment) where the cook fed us a real American breakfast.  Breakfast with the farmer consisted of mostly bread and butter with milk, and, I think, some eggs; I can't remember for sure.

"The guys wanted to give us clothes - uniforms, good shoes - they were just as glad to see us as we were to see them. They gave us a good American breakfast: bacon, eggs, American coffee and toast. When they asked me what I flew and I told them a P47. They really were happy and wanted to give me what ever I wanted. 

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"After we finished breakfast and a great welcoming the soldiers went back to their duties of fighting the war. The firing of the guns had quit and many of the Germans were surrendering. The ones in this area had no bridge close by to cross the river: you might say they were trapped. The main duty was to search them and load them into trucks and take them back to prisoner of war camps. 

"The prisoner trucks were large troop trucks with bench seats on the side. However when hauling prisoners there were so many that the seats were folded up and there was standing room only. The Germans in this area had run out of food and they crowded in to the truck without any urging. The drivers had a gun and whenever they stopped for a rest stop all the driver had to do was start the engine and the prisoners jumped in the truck. They were hungry. 

Dave and I each rode in a truck with the driver. Some of the prisoners that could speak English asked questions. They wanted to know why Dave and I were in civilian clothes. When we told them we were pilots that crash landed in Holland and had traveled this far without getting caught, they didn't think it possible." 

Later we were taken to an Army camp in France where about 5,000 German prisoners were being held.  At dinner time the German officers were brought out of the barbed wire compound to a separate tent to eat.  It was next to the American's mess tent so we could observe them closely.  About the time we finished eating a large formation of American bombers flew over.  There was one German Major General among the officers and I noticed him looking up at the planes and shaking his head as if to say, "It's all over but the shouting."  It was interesting to note that the men guarding the prisoners 

                           54

and issuing instructions to them were all American Jews.  I think this was only because they were able to speak German.  All of the Americans were high ranking sergeants and all that I saw were rather large in stature for Jewish people.
We had to drive all day to get to a prisoner camp. Our troops were advancing so fast they had trouble making camps to keep them in and feed them. Most of the officers that were captured were in their dress uniforms, black shiny boots. Apparently they had the feeling they were going to be taken prisoner. The next day Dave and I and the prisoners were taken to another camp just outside of Paris. 

From here Dave and I were taken in a command car to a hotel in Paris. When we checked in at the hotel the captain at the desk said, we would be there for a few days waiting our turn to be flown back to London. We were still in our civilian clothes. Dave said "I am a Lt. Col. and Floyd and I want to be the first plane to London tomorrow." The captain said "the first plane is scheduled to leave at 9 o'clock if the weather is good, and both of you can be on it." Dave and I spent all day and evening sight-seeing. 

"The next morning we were ready to fly to England and check in at 8th air force headquarters. We were kept in London and were interrogated for three weeks -- then they sent us back to the states for two weeks' vacation." 

The next day we were taken by truck to Paris.  The trucks were hauling German prisoners and in each little town we passed through the citizens, particularly the women, would run out to the trucks and spit or throw things at the German prisoners.  One had a broom and tried to hit them.  I can't say that I could blame them.
After one or two nights in a hotel in Paris that had no hot water nor heat, we were taken to England and about a month later we flew home to the USA.
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ADDITIONAL NOTE WRITTEN JUNE 15, 1986
I have been a member of an organization known as the Air Force Escape and Evasion Society for a member of years.  This organization is made up of men who were shot down in Europe in World War II and either escaped from the German prison camps or evaded them altogether.  Practically all the members are evadees and owe their return to Allied Forces, for the most part, to the Dutch, Belgian and French Underground people.
The first meeting I attended of this organization was in Atlanta, Georgia, May 21-25, 1986 and I was surprised to meet two men with whom I had been quartered with in Liege, Belgium in 1944 along with 10 or 12 other downed fliers including some from the RAF.  I don't remember much about the house where we were quartered except that there was no family living there -- it was a vacant house -- and there were places where we could sleep and eat.  The Belgians brought us food each day.  I also have some memory of an elderly lady who came there each day to bring food and other supplies.
I was only billeted in this house a few days, maybe 3, maybe 5. I just don't remember.  Anyway, as mentioned earlier in this narrative, I got impatient and left with Floyd Stegall.  The man I met in Atlanta remembered our leaving and one of them, Lou Breitenbach, had kept a diary of sorts and had my name and hometown (Rising Star, Texas) as well as Floyd's in it.
The day after Floyd and I left this house to be billeted with a private family, all of the others were picked up by the Gestapo who had been watching the house, and became Prisoners of War for the remainder of the war.  Again, I was lucky, but I didn't realize this for 42 years, until I bumped into Lou and found out what happened to our housemates.

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ADDITIONAL NOTES: October 15, 1986
During the years since our first visit to Holland to become reacquainted with the people in that country who helped me through those months in 1944, we have tried to find Floyd Stegall through the resources of the military records, but to no avail.  The only information I had about him was that he was from Illinois.  When I saw Lou Breitenbach in Atlanta in June, he said that Floyd Stegall's address as noted in his book was Cameron, Illinois.
When I returned home I played golf with an old friend who was from Illinois and who visited there with his wife every summer.  I told him about my contact with Lou and the name of the town where Floyd lived and he said that his wife was from that very town and he would look into it for me.  That evening he telephoned me that his wife had gone to high school with Floyd but knew him as MARTIN Stegall; (his full name was Floyd Martin Stegall) and she had 2 high school yearbooks with his picture in them.
Dorothy and I were just leaving on vacation and were gone about 2 weeks and returned on a Friday.  Sunday afternoon, 42 years after I had last seen him, Floyd telephoned me.  Indeed, my golf buddy of a 20-year duration had located him for me and gave him my telephone number!  We had a wonderful visit and we plan to have more.  He is due to come to Wichita Falls in January, 1987.
TRANSLATION BY WIENIK EVERTS OF ARTICLE IN THE DUTCH NEWS MAGAZINE
WINTERSWYJK.  For a good five years Peter Monasso, Jan Mateman, Wim te Velduis, all from Winterswyjk and Jan Geerdink from Groenlo have been busy digging in East Achterhoek.  They have been looking for the remains of airplanes that were shot down in the war in Achterhoek.  They have already found all kinds of things. Ammunition, broken glass, and pieces from an 

                            57

aircraft fuselage have been found.  Special finds have been a rocket, a number of aircraft engines, a radio, aircraft cannons, and a machine gun.  The uncovered material has been in very good condition after thirty years in the ground.  During the diggings some of the items recovered don't look very good but cleaning with water from a hose makes them like new.
The searches and digging operations have taken so much time that one wonders how long will it be before one can see results.  Therefore, the society is directing its searches in a small territory.
In the Achterhoek the four men have recovered parts of planes from the ground only in the municipalities of Winterswijk and Achtenvoorde.  Next year the search will begin in Salten(?).  In Salten one knows already of three shot-down planes.  Great interest is directed towards the two B-17 bombers, one of which is in Salten and one in Bredevoort, that have crashed.  The exact location, however, is not known.
One can well understand that permission of the land owner must be obtained before the digging begins.  This is usually done in the fall of the year before because there is scarcely any grass growing then.  Accordingly, there is little damage done to the new growth.  An area of ten square meters can be searched with the help of farmers and shovels and useful material can be brought to view.  The heavy parts can be hauled out of the  hole with the help of a crane.  After the useful material is dug up the hole is filled in.
Peter Monasso regrets that soon after the war in connection with the shortage of metal many aircraft wrecks were often dug up by old ice merchants.  These men, however, did not examine the material carefully and let the heavy parts go.  It is these parts that the recovery society is now trying to recover from the ground.  That the group must thereby pay attention to the smaller things gives everything an extra boost.  The human aspects become, therefore, much more important.

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