The Diary

25 April 2005: The Great Escape - A Bally Bad Show All Round!

What ho, old boy!

Just another quick note to let you know that the little stunt we?d planned for this weekend, the one involving a mass-break, didn?t quite go to plan. Just when it was looking an absolutely wizard moment to spring everyone, the blasted goons found the tunnel, caught us cold, which meant the entire thing went for a Burton, of course, so we now have to face the music, the precise nature of which could be quite unpleasant, should our worst fears be realised. All is not lost, though ? we do have another topping chance to get everyone out on Tuesday night, so no harm done, but what with the escaping season proper ending in May, and schemes at two or three other camps timed for around the same time as ours meeting with some success yesterday, that gives them automatic priority over ours for the moment, of course. As there?s only four opportunities remaining for us to redeem ourselves, it?s all looking pretty hairy for Big X right now, poor chap. We?re the only Escape Committee with a scheme pencilled in for next Tuesday evening, luckily, so we may yet be able to redeem the situation. The problem is, though, that?s very much our last chance of success. Should we perform below par again, though, we?ve had it.

The problem is, should those other bods do significantly better than we over what time remains to them, then it?s going to make the goons seal us up tighter than a Red Cross parcel at Christmas, and them shifting us all to a less-pleasant camp just down the hill from here. A bloody hard place to get out of, so I?ve been told ? and the snag is, the types there are a bit of a rough bunch. Hardened kriegies, they are, tough as old boots. Some have been trying to get out for years, and don?t particularly care how they do it, as long as they do manage it in the end. I don?t suppose you?ve heard of a chap there called Warnock, have you? Bit of a rum cove, and very abrasive with it, so they say, partial to a bit of fisticuffs any time or place you care to choose. The lads in his hut are in the cooler far more times than they?re out, so I?m told. Really hated the chap who used to be our SBO here, apparently, and when they were in the same place a just few years back, it got to be a bit of an all-round bind, nd no love lost whatsoever. Ended with a bloody great punch-up involving the pair of them during the exercise period one Saturday afternoon, and several of Warnock?s more thuggish lads up before the Kommandant afterwards - he wasn?t amused by their antics either. Practically starting a prison riot is not a very clever thing to do, really. Oh, well, if the worst does come to the worst, we?ve heard a latrine rumour there?s a strong possibility of the goons shipping Ginger off to their maximum-security place, so at least we?d be spared the possibility of us fetching up with him again. Fritz hates him just as much as we do, which is the main reason they want him purged somewhere else pretty damned quick.

And there?s another thing. We?ve also been told there?s a fair number of bods, all living in the same hut, unfortunately, who really aren?t very nice to know. Chaps like old Houlty, and Big Dave Moore remember them from when they were stuck in the same camp together, about three years ago, if my memory serves me correctly. Having heard what they both had to say about these awful people, it really does make me wonder whatever happened to the golden rule one had to be very much ?an officer and a gentleman? at all times? Maintaining the appropriate level of social standards required of those holding the King?s Commission isn?t too much to ask these days, is it? Not the sort of people you?d really want to invite to the Mess dinner either, old boy; collectively, they?re about as bright as the ersatz oil-lamps we use at night, and with the sort of table-manners you?d find at the local piggery.

Young Clem, the lad from London, was only telling me the other day that when he was there, he had to go into their hut once for some reason, and he just couldn?t believe how they lived. Entire place resembled a slum on a bad day, he told me, broken windows, rubbish, bits of old metallic junk everywhere ? and as for the language?.. Glad just to get out in one piece, he was. Despite coming from a town quite close, they don?t like any of our crowd for some obscure reason, which doesn?t help ? Clem told me that from his own experience of these awful people, you?re not so much going to get a conversation when you meet them, more an escalating series of threats, all of which they?re quite capable of carrying out, so you now see there are actually a whole string of reasons why we don?t want to end up where they are in a couple of months time.

As far as the unfortunate bods caught on Saturday are concerned, we?ve heard very little of what?s going to happen to them over the next few days. Between you and me, the gut feeling amongst the chaps in our hut is that the tunnelling-types let Big X and the rest of the Committee down very badly. When you?re up against guards of the calibre of the ones at this camp, you?ve got to exploit chinks in their armour the second they become apparent, because if you don?t, they?ll penetrate in a flash those in yours ? and that?s the real reason for our failure. Within the space of 20 minutes after the word ?go?, we were presented with no less than five clear-cut opportunities to open the tunnel exit, then get at least two or three chaps past the guards and away from the place - and still we failed miserably. Then, lulled into a false sense of complacency by the fact the sentries in the goon-boxes and along the wire seemed quite torpid, we pushed our luck a little too far ? and were caught cold in the searchlights, as we deserved to be. The buggers had been waiting for us to slip up all along, it turned out, and were highly delighted when we actually did.

As you might expect, recriminations are flying around like confetti right now. Some are now arguing we shouldn?t have changed the digging rota for the final leg ? let Horsfield do the main thrust of the work, along with Campbell, as per usual, and keep the young Welsh lad for later, they said. It?s been working well, that combination, these last few weeks, so why upset the apple-cart at this late stage? Young Earnshaw is a nice lad, and as keen as mustard, of course, but being as inexperienced and impulsive as he is in these matters, there was always the risk that in his eagerness to please, he?d try a little too hard and end up pleasing nobody ? and that?s what we think happened yesterday. At least young Richardson will be out of the sick-bay and back with us by Tuesday, which is one piece of good news. We need young creative types like him more than ever, now.

There are also those who now think that Houlty could be to blame for failing to seal the tunnel quickly enough when Jerry mounted that surprise raid not long after we?d started digging, and not once, but twice. And the normally-reliable Clement should look to his laurels a little, as well. In fact, at a time when we all should all have been far more astute, and realised the goons could well have something planned, instead, we all just stooged around like gofers and sprogs, and watched it happen. Oh, well - it?s all bye the bye, now, so no good us all crying over spilt milk, not even the powdered sort we get in the Red Cross parcels these days.

It won?t surprise you a bit to learn that Big X is absolutely livid because of what happened yesterday. It takes a fair amount of time, enthusiasm and effort to get a massive stunt like this organised in the first place, as you?ll readily appreciate ? and he will be holding a bit of an inquest on the whole affair very soon, so I?m told. As I said the other day, Big X took over the show at a time when morale here was at its lowest, and the goons had us well and truly under their thumb. It?s taken months and months of patient work to rebuild the confidence of both tunnellers and helpers to the point where it?s now possible to glimpse a pot of gold at the very end of the hard-fought rainbow - and, thanks to what happened, it?s all down the pan again, of course.

Just organising the massed diversion to cover the noise made tunnelling was quite an effort on its own, you understand. Every bod in the place not actually digging yesterday actually got together in a massed effort to raise noise-levels to the point where the chaps underground could get on with it, right under Jerry?s nose ? and then we went and let them down, and quite badly, too. The distress on their faces when the goons started carting the evidence away was truly awful. A lot of hopes and fears had been riding on that break, let me tell you ? to see it nose-dive in flames and burn was a little too much for some, you understand. There were not a few manly tears shed quietly later last night, so it?s perfectly understandable why people are letting their emotions get the better of them over this.

It so happened this morning that when I was sitting in the ?forty-holer?, Pilot Officer Robinson ? you know him, the chappie responsible for some of the really hard bits of the work ? told me on the QT that shortly after they were all rumbled, the digging-team had a little bit of a chin-wag among themselves. They really do feel awful about what happened, they?re going to bust a gut to make amends next Tuesday night, and could we spread the word to that effect around the rest of the camp for him? As he said, the entire tunnelling team had come so far over the past few weeks; morale and team-spirit boosted tremendously by then, the success of the scheme had seemed a piece of cake, especially as they?d all worked their socks off over the last few weeks to ensure it all went to plan.

As Paul was saying, as he shed another huge load into the pit ? the contents of some of those Red Cross parcels can be a bit dodgy sometimes ? they now have to pick themselves up off the ground, and have another pop at it in two days time. Let?s just hope that just like the phoenix of ancient myth, they can resurrect the entire thing from the flames when they do.

And that?s about all that?s happened here, old boy. As I said, it?s now very much in the lap of the gods, the sole constraint placed upon our activities now being that provided by ourselves. It took a while, but morale?s now much better than it was yesterday. Oh, and I nearly forgot. We?ve not long ago heard on the grapevine that one group trying to prevent their own slide into the abyss are just as much bullies as the Tweedledum/Tweedledee combo trying to make hay while the sun shines regarding getting out. Well, they too were caught napping by the goons earlier today ? and serve the sods right, as well. At least their misfortune will mean a second crack, undeservedly so, some might say, at a home run. Will everything go to plan next time? Well, despite all the false dawns, you?ve got to believe, still, haven?t you?

And Finally?? One. Yeah, I know everyone?s still feeling pretty raw and grim after what happened yesterday, but our old mucker Sauce, he of the unpronounceable Polish monicker (and the bespoke coaching service for those Baggies whose idea of pre-match Nirvana is a pint or three), might just be the chap to provide the vital antidote. He?s running a weekend coach trip to Blackpool in conjunction with our last away game at Man Utd. Places have been going like hot cakes, but he now tells me there are still 2 seats available, and could I give that very fact a little air-time in this column, please?

Of course, I will old bean; your wish is my command (with certain reservations, all related to the correct usage of banana ice-cream, and chocolate sandwich spread, of course)! The deal comprises executive coach travel, 2 Nights B&B, and coach to the game, and all for a cost to you, squire, of ?79. Depart Friday 6th May 2-30pm, return Sunday 8th May mid-day. Anyone interested, don?t bother contacting me, because I?m the monkey, not the organ-grinder. Tel 07790 396 316, if you want to incorporate a weekend of fresh-air, fun, and frivolity at the Lancashire seaside-town into your away-travel plans ? but please note. Our chubby-cheeked chum wishes to make it abundantly clear to everyone he does NOT have match tickets, nor does he intend to provide any!

Two?.. Well done, Vic Stirrup, pensioner superstar, who was revealed in his glorious blue-and-white striped entirety to an unsuspecting nation tonight courtesy of Adrian Chiles?s footie programme. As regular readers will know, Vic?s in his eighties, yet still regularly attends games both home and away. His loyalty ? the more cynical would call it ?madness?, I suppose ? led to him winning a national supporters? award recently, the same one The Fart ended up with during our inaugural Premiership season. To provide the background, the Beeb sent a camera crew to Boro, and a jolly day was had by all as they recorded every single detail of Vic?s day, warts and all ? most of them on the pitch, of course.

 - Glynis Wright

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