Ernie 'Strips' Farrow

A TRIP TO PARIS IN 1940 from B&C 86 Jun 96
Now we have Strips' version of part of the escape.
It is late October 1940. Les Chamberlain and I had walked across France and back quite close to where I was captured. Since our escape from the Germans we had visited many villages and towns in Belgium and France, working a few days on farms and often being asked to help the maquis in various activities. In and around Amiens, Arras and Bethune we were lucky to get away without being killed and had to lie low for some time. It was after this we were given our French identity cards and with these in our pockets we felt much safer.
We had been stopped by a German motor cycle patrol a few days earlier but were able to speak more French than the Germans. After being searched and telling them our identity cards were at a nearby farm where we were working, we were told by the officer to take the cards and get them stamped by the German authorities.
The maquis told us there were quite a number of E boats at St Valery and so we wended our way towards the coast. On the way we were hidden in a brick kiln for a few days as the Germans were searching for British parachutists supposed to have been dropped nearby. At last we were getting near our objective but had to take to the water and swim as the bridges were all well guarded. After quite a bit of dodging the German guards we were in sight of the boats but after 3 attempts to board one of them we had to give up. We had been given an address to visit in case we failed and again had to take to the water. After drying out we took to the fields as there was a stream of German traffic on the roads. We had several kilometres to walk and at one point almost walked into a German Air Defence post. Our luck held and near Abbeville we found the cottage.
Two elderly ladies answered Leslie's knock and after asking for a drink an agreed password was given. We were taken inside and in no time were sitting down to a meal and hot coffee of which we had seen little over the past few weeks. One lady disappeared and after some time returned with a large bag of clothes. It was then they told us of a chance to go to Paris and meet the American Consul. America had not then entered the war so we could probably get American papers and travel home safely. After a bath, the first for a few months, we tried on the clothes. Not too bad, not Burton's 50 bob suits but good enough for our trip to 'Gay Paree'.
Early next morning we were awakened and told to prepare for our trip. These dear ladies had been out and had arranged an escort for our journey which would involve about 3 changes on buses. After a good breakfast we were given a parcel of food and money to pay for our bus fares. Just before we were due to leave, a young ginger haired lady arrived and we were introduced to Suzette, our escort. We were told to follow this 17 year old at a discreet distance. Thanking our dear friends who wished us 'Bon Voyage', we started our journey to what we hoped was freedom.
Quite a number of people were waiting for the only bus of the day. On its arrival we wondered if it would reach our first change as the old bus was almost clapped out. We paid the driver for tickets to our first destination and were on our way, stopping occasionally to pick up or drop off passengers. Rounding a sharp bend near Paix, the expected happened. A front tyre burst and there was no way the driver could stop before crashing into the wall of a house, completely blocking the road. Most of us could see what was coming and braced ourselves for the impact. No one was hurt except for a bit of shock.
The owner of the house was soon on the scene almost strangling the driver. Suzette beckoned us to stay clear and as we walked away from the calamity we could hear a vehicle approaching the corner at speed. A German lorry passed us, soldiers hanging out of the back, then there was a terrific bang. It had hit the rear of our bus and more of the house had come down. The other passengers had managed to run clear but the Germans were laying around all well and truly kaput. We rushed back and with the other people searched through the wreckage for anything we could get into our pockets. For this was a lorry loaded with goods meant for the German forces nearby - cigarettes, tobacco and many other items. We quickly followed Suzette away from the disaster.
She directed us to a house some distance away and we were soon enjoying coffee and biscuits taken from our German hosts. After a 2 kilometre walk to our next connection we did not have to wait long and could see the bus was in much better condition than the last. Suzette paid for our tickets and we were on our way again. After an hour and a half it was all change at Sarcelles for the last stage of our journey. Suzette again guided us to the bus stop. It was very crowded and the bus was late so our French lass thought it best to stay the night. She found a cafe and after some discussion with the owner we were told we could stay the night. We took a casual stroll around the village to stretch our legs and as darkness approached Suzette urged us to return as there was a curfew. Within sight of the cafe a young lad almost ran into us. He was out of breath but babbled a message to Suzette, telling her that the Germans were at that moment searching the cafe. We were to follow him and he took us to a house where we would be safe for the night. Once again the maquis had come to our aid.
We slept well and were awakened at dawn then shown through to the back of the house where Suzette was making arrangements for us. A horse had been harnessed to a covered cart and we were told to get in the cart and lie on the floor. As sacks of vegetables were stacked around and on top of us, Suzette said she would be riding with the old driver and would keep us informed of progress. At last they were satisfied we were well hidden and we were on our way again.
It seems hours passed before Suzette called to tell us we were approaching a German check point. We could not move even if we had needed to; we were stuck fast and thought that every bone in our body had been broken. A few minutes later the cart stopped and we could hear the Germans shouting at the driver. He shouted back then they began laughing loudly.
They must have slapped the horse for with a jerk we went careering down the cobbled road. We were in Paris at the rear of a market and after the vegetables were unloaded we too had to be lifted out. After much rubbing of limbs we thanked our driver, cleaned ourselves up and prepared to visit the American Embassy. We found a cafe and over a cup of coffee worked out our next move. We had been given the address of a hotel some distance away so Suzette left us and returned after a while to pick us up in an old van driven by a rough bearded workman. After 20 minutes journey through occupied Paris the van drew up in a quiet spot, a short walk from the hotel. There were Germans and their vehicles parked on both sides of the street. We had arranged that Suzette and I would enter the hotel while Les waited nearby for our signal.
I pushed open the big door of the hotel and was startled to see the foyer full of Germans. Again, Suzette showed her coolness and, taking my arm, walked directly to the reception desk. In good German she asked the receptionist what was happening as we had booked a room at the hotel 3 weeks previously. The German told her the hotel had been taken over 2 days ago and with a laugh and a knowing wink said we must find somewhere else to spend our honeymoon! Suzette pretended to break down, crying and clinging to my arm, while I pretended to console her. We made our way out, breathed sighs of relief and found Les. Again searching for the embassy Suzette made enquiries and at last a well dressed man, with a knowing look, said he would take us there. Care was needed as he could have been a traitor but soon he pointed to a large building and wished us 'Bon Voyage'. As expected, there were German soldiers on guard in the vicinity so Suzette said she would go in first as everyone was stopped and questioned before being allowed into the building. She would claim to be seeking an interview for work. We made ourselves as comfortable as possible in a small park nearby.
After a long time our ginger haired friend returned and we knew by her face that she had failed. There was no way the Americans would give us passports but they had given her money and an address where we might get help. It was a large house divided into flats. The door was opened by an elderly lady who eyed Les and myself closely while Suzette spoke to her in French. Then she replied in English and beckoned us to enter. We were joined by another lady and they told us they were British and had been unable to leave the city before it capitulated. They had to report to the German Commandant each week.
Our brave Suzette had to leave to do other things in Paris so we said fond farewells to this very brave young girl, hoping we would meet again one day. The ladies said there was a chance we could board a ship at Bordeaux or cross over into unoccupied France.
After a few nights rest we boarded a train at Gare de Nord to try once more for our liberty.
The seqel, Rail ride to Freedom is below.

RAIL RIDE TO FREEDOM from B&C 88 Jun 97 and B&C 90 Jun 98
Mr WA 'Bill' Dudley, from Surbiton, Surrey, served in 1 Royal Norfolk as Coy driver in A, S and HQ Coys. He wrote the articles 'A Younger Ex-Royal Norfolk Visits Le Paradis' in B&C No 85 Dec 95 and 'My Second Visit To Le Paradis' in B&C No 88 Jun 97.
Other articles by 'Strips' relating to Le Paradis appeared in B&C No 75 Dec 90, No 77 Dec 91, No 80 Jun 93, No 81 Dec 93 and No 86 Jun 96.
Below, follows the sequel to 'A Trip to Paris in 1940' from B&C 86 Jun 96 by Ernie 'Strips' Farrow.

'In Paris at the end of October 1940 the streets were crowded with German soldiers - not a good place to be if you were British. Les and I decided to take a ride by train to Bordeaux as there was no chance of obtaining US papers to get out of France. With money we had been given we could purchase our tickets and travel in comfort. Directed to the station by a member of the Maquis we were introduced to a smartly dressed lady who told us the Germans in Pas-de-Calais, from where we had come, were searching for escaped British soldiers as damage had been caused to communications and places of importance. Many French families had been shot for assisting these men. We would only contact our courier in an emergency but would meet her at the end of our journey. It was a long and tiring time, thankful for our French Identite Carts as we were searched many times.
At one point we were delayed while rail engineers repaired a stretch of line which had been blown up by the Maquis. After two and a half days we arrived at Bordeaux and our problem was to get clear of the station as the Germans were checking all tickets and Identite Carts. Les and I were separated for our own safety but close enough to keep in touch with our lady. She told us to follow her when we left the station but as we neared the barrier a man burst through and shots were fired. During the turmoil we walked through and met our lady outside. She saw us approaching and quickly walked away. Following, we entered a cafe and were given directions to the docks. She gave us little hope of boarding a boat as the area had been taken over by the Germans. A few fishing boats went out daily under orders of the Nazis and if this option failed we were given a route to cross over into Free France.
After she wished us Bon Voyage, we walked to the docks and found it over-run with Germans, some in Nazi uniform but mostly army. Dejected, we turned to and made our way onto the route for Free France. This meant crossing the wide and fast flowing river Dordogne. After walking several miles we stopped at a farm where we were given a good meal and rest. This was on a busy road but we hitched a ride on a horse drawn cart. After a few miles the Frenchman pointed to a church. This was where we had to dismount and head for the river. Thanking him, we were making our way down the narrow lane to the church when we heard shouting and saw Germans a few hundred yards away. At the same time we saw a lone figure in the churchyard beckoning us. Not wishing to be caught at this stage we were with him in a flash. Our saviour was the Curie and he indicated for us to pick up a spade, follow him to a newly dug grave and pretend to fill it in. As the Germans approached the gate the Curie went to them and explained he had just finished a service and we were filling in the grave. Satisfied, they moved to a waiting vehicle. The Curie took us to his home and gave us some drink while his wife packed some food. We were told we would have to row the boat across the river ourselves as the boatman, for his own safety, was in jail in Bordeaux as the Germans were looking for him. With the Curie leading we walked quickly across the fields to the river and into a small copse, which had a ditch running through it. At the far end was our boat, neatly camouflaged. The Curie told us that German gun boats patrolled the river and did not hesitate to shoot at anything that moved. He pointed to a spot on the far bank where we were to hide the boat. Wishing us Bon Voyage he hurried off. We found a secluded spot close to the river from where we could watch. After a short time we heard a gun boat approaching and watched it pass, noting it was manned by four German solders with 2 machine guns. We spent the rest of the day timing the boats and as darkness fell we slept in our boat, covered with old sacking. All through the night we were kept awake by the throb of the engines of the gunboats and saw their beam of their powerful searchlights sweeping the river. Early in the morning we again timed the passing of the boat patrols and decided to row ourselves across the river. A patrol passed, went round the bend of the river, and we pushed ourselves off. In the strong current we struggled to keep straight and drifted down river. We were 10 yards from the bank when we heard the familiar throb of engines. Over the side we went and swam under water to the bank. As we surfaced among a clump of reed the machine guns opened up and the boat was shot to pieces. They strafed the river bank too but, again, good luck was with us. As they left, probably thinking we were dead, we climbed up onto the bank and lay down. At last we were free.'

A masterful accolade, 'Last Salute', by Steve Snelling, of the Eastern Daily Press, which appeared in the EDP on 24 Jan 98, is reproduced below as an obituary to Strips.