No-one expected the matter to get so out of control as it did.The escapees had all been recaptured without bloodshed and the commandant had expressed his satisfaction.

No special treats for a month for the two hundred and twenty-six POWs, while Lynch and Carter had been given a couple of weeks in the "cooler" after being re-captured in the nearby village.

Colonel Johnny Porter stared at the grey walls of the last cell in Block D and sighed. This was the end.
Two weeks before his thirtieth birthday, he would be dead.

Shot by a firing squad for allowing his men to plan and execute an excellent escape plan which ought to have gone like clockwork.

Somehow It hadn't and the twenty-three would be escapees had been rounded up and brought back to camp in shame.

One night later, lined up for "Roll call", they waited in the bitter cold of a Northern European winter's night for Colonel Martin Ficherdorpf to delay his bedtime and attend to his job.

At last he arrived, his uniform freshly pressed, his breath still fragrant from the coffee his batman Otto had prepared for him.

Colonel Martin Ficherdorpf, commandant of Stalag 451. didn't have a lot to say.
Just a reminder of a memo sent out by the Secret Police about them taking a "harsher view and more stringent responses to escape attempts in the future."

They had all been aware of a new man in charge, but they had no idea of his perverted sense of discipline.
Until now.
Col. Ficherdorpf produced a single sheet of paper and read from it.

"This escape attempt is a crime against the powers that now hold you prisoner.
You have two courses of action open to you. You can follow the usual procedures of surrendering your privileges for a prescribed length of time. The ringleaders will spend at least a fortnight in the isolation cells.

In addition to those measures, you will submit your commanding officer to the full extent of the law".
The men shared puzzled looks among themselves. What did this mean?

O'Connor, a tall, lanky Irishman, raised his hand." Colonel!" he called "What would the powers that be want with our own darlin' Colonel Johnny Porter?"

The commandant tucked the sheet of paper into his glove and smirked.
"As your commanding officer, he and he alone can pay for the expense and inconvenience of escape attempts. And pay for them he will. With his life."

His voice rose an octave as he shouted over the POW's angry response.

There were words including "Geneva Convention" and "Rules of Warfare" thrown about like storm tossed boats at sea, but Col. Ficherdorpf merely smirked and added nothing further.

Finally, O'Connor held his hand up and called for silence. He turned to the commandant and spoke in a voice that every person there could hear.
"You said there were two courses of action open to us. What is the second one?"

The commandant's smirk vanished as his eyes met OConnor's.
"The second one? Oh yes the alternative.Unless your C.O. is surrendered to experience the full extent of the law, from this day on a prisoner will be shot "attempting to escape".

Every day until the men who made this last attempt have all been "taken care of".

O'Connor stared at his captor with loathing. This was evil. It cut across every wartime scenario, making a mockery of any attempt to conduct oneself in a humane and civilized manner.

They would no more surrender Colonel Johnny to their filthy Secret Police than they'd ----.O'Connor's furious thoughts were interrupted by a familiar, deep, drawling voice.

It was Col. Johnny himself. He stood in front of the commandant, his dark eyes angry, his voice level and calm.

"Colonel Ficherdorpf, we all know the rules of warfare. This latest edict from a civilian organization can have no power over POW personnel."

The men erupted into an unruly mass of humanity which swiftly diminished as the surrounding guards clicked threatening triggers and nudged a few POWs with their weapons.

Col Ficherdorpf's pale blue eyes blinked behind rimless spectacles as he made his way from the parade ground.

" Curse that smart-alec Secret Police Major. Porter was right. It was a civilian organization. Nothing to do with the armed forces. Who the Hell did he think he was anyway?"

He envisaged the plump little pop-in-jay in his dark green uniform, the deadly insignias shining at his shoulders and chest, a large holstered weapon strapped to his side.
Major Franz Dietrich, golden boy of the Hierarchy

." He was" thundered the commandant in a voice as silent as Otto's footsteps,"No more than an errand boy for those fools at GHQ.
He'd do their dirty work and be rewarded with a chest full of medals. And a pay raise every time," he added with cold accuracy.

This was a mess not of his making. And by thunder, He wasn't going to sit tamely while Dietrich played his games of Musical People.

Enemy or not Colonel John Porter was a man worth ten of Franz Dietrich's calibre.
Martin sat at his desk for hours, thinking and making notes.

The silent, soft-footed Otto made fresh coffee and waited to be told to go to bed.
At last Martin dropped wearily onto his untouched bed and fell instantly fast asleep.
Otto covered him with a quilt and went off to sleep himself.

Sometime during the next day Col. John Porter was transferred to the grim execution block.
He was allowed anything he asked for,so by lunch time he was bathed, shaved and had his hair cut.
He dressed in his good tunic and shone his boots until they gleamed like black glass.
O"Connor was inclined to be emotional, but the rest of the men treated Col Johnny as if he was going on leave.
The door to his cell was unlocked so he could pass at will from one room to another.
Late in the afternoon Otto came in with an exquisite coffee set on a decorative tray. He served coffee and delicious little hors d'oeuvres to Colonel Johnny and the commandant who sat in the cell with him.

After the evening meal a large official car rolled into the compound carrying Major Franz Dietrich and two of his cronies.
They had come to view the "proceedings". The major was slightly drunk as was one of his two buddies.

The second man was small and dapper and in his forties. As neat as a pin in his dress, he was just as fastidious in his choice of friends. His name was Werner Schultz and he belonged to a very discreet part of the conquering army.
So discreet, so quiet and careful in their activities that no-one knew they were there at all.
Least of all Major Franz Dietrich, whose loud boasting had come under the notice of Werner Shultz's immediate superior.
It had marked him for "Dispatch".

They had organized a firing squad. Six marksmen with weapons were waiting outside in the dark to do their dastardly work.
It didn't matter to them who their target was. They weren't there to second guess, The decision had already been made. Sentence passed. They were there to carry it out.

Colonel John Prendergast Porter was quite calm. He understood the way things went in Wartime. Here today and gone tomorrow.

He had spent some time in composing a farewell speech, but things kept nudging him to remember more and more of his childhood and early youth.
Now he was full of sadness. He hadn't wanted to recall so much of his life, but it had crowded in on him in a kaleidoscope of memories.

Then he realized the men he had served with were who was going to hear his words so he wrote a speech for them.

It was soon done and at last, the chaplain came and stood by his bed.
It was nearly midnight as they walked out of Cellblock "D"and around the corner to where the six marksmen stood waiting.

O'Connor wrapped his arms around his CO and said a prayer in Gaelic.
The two men shook hands as many others did the same. Somehow they had managed to get out of their huts and be there at the execution site.

Col Johnny was humbled. Humbled but proud. He stood, head in air, defying the death that awaited him.
He shook his head as they approached him with a blindfold and with hands on hips turned towards the six marksmen.

He refused a cigarette and drew his speech out of his pocket. It was dark, but he knew the words off by heart.

"It's time for me to go" he said clearly, "I won't keep you long._-----"There was a fusillade of shots as the six marksmen hit their target.
With a choking cry Major Franz Dietrich fell to his knees. His gaze fell upon Werner Schultz. "I knew it," he gasped " I knew you were one of them".

His voice choked and he died with five well-placed bullets in his body
.Colonel Martin Ficherdorpf looked across at the other man who had accompanied them to Stalag451.

"He was a traitor, Ernst," he told the stunned man."Better if you say nothing about being here tonight.. You don't want to be implicated. So messy. and if they find the slightest thing out of order_----.Well, you know how they go on. don't you?"

Ernst Myer had a very clear idea of just how messy things could get and had no intention of letting his family suffer unnecessarily.
Besides, there would be an opportunity for a promotion coming up in the near future.
His wife, Ortrud would be very pleased with that wouldn't she?

Colonel Porter got to his feet and gingerly checked himself for injuries. He was sound in wind and limb.
"I'm still here," he muttered to himself.
"Not for long my friend. You were executed by a firing squad under the orders of Major Franz Dietrich. Remember?"

Dazed, Col.Porter heard the commandant's words as they fell like drops of iced water into his brain. The Commandant had not been an enemy after all.
But how had he known about the break out? Who told him? Who was the traitor? He needed to find that out before he went.

The commandant went on speaking."You must not, cannot stay here now. I have made arrangements for you to return to England. You leave in" he glanced at his watch "One hour and thirty-five minutes."

Johnny stared for a moment into the pallid face and ice-blue eyes of the former Austrian Duke of Waldenstien and drew himself up to salute.
The salute was returned with a click of jackbooted heels and a slight smile on the aristocratic face.

"When this is over," said Johnny, "We will meet again." Martin smiled, but shook his head."No, my friend. When this is over I shall have made myself a new life. Somewhere in South Africa. My wife and daughters will be safe and I will live to a ripe old age remembering this night and others just like it."

Colonel Porter shook his head, realizing just how active this apparently fumbling Army officer had been in saving the lives of so many.

"There is one last loose end," said Johnny. "The traitor who gave the game away this last time. I want him. Who is he?"
The commandant's eyes narrowed as he considered Col. Porter's words.
He had debated whether to reveal the identity of the man in question and made his mind up in a swift resolution.

"I'll give him to you. You can have him, but make sure you don't leave a trail back the way you've come."
He left Colonel Johnny to finish his departure preparations and sent a message to a worker in the laundry.

The man was delighted and fell into the truck that appeared magically at the gates of the compound just before dawn. They were both dressed in soldiers' uniforms, so no-one thought anything of the fact that one of them held a large coil of rope with his Army-issue rifle.
.Colonel Porter gave the driver instructions and they hadn't gone far when the truck veered off the road towards a small quarry nearby.
They pulled up and, abandoning any pretence of courtesy, Porter ordered the man from the passenger's seat to stand hands above his shoulders with his back to the quarry wall.
Too late he realized his mistake and fell to gabbling excuses, pleading with Johnny to let him off.
"He'd go away ,"he promised, "and never be seen again".
Johnny was disgusted at such a craven display and stood silently until the tirade ended.
He made a noose at one end of the rope and slung it around the informer's scrawny neck.
"I sentence you to die as many another has died because of your greed and lust for money."
His voice was little more than a whisper as he adjusted the knot under the left ear.
"Have you anything you wish to say before you meet your Maker?" "Yes," he answered in a voice just as soft that grew to a scream as his fate became apparent.
"Screw you, screw the commandant, screw every poor blind sod I put into the pot to stew in his own juice."
Johnny hauled on the rope as the doomed man swung into the air. His choking voice faded as he lost consciousness.
Johnny twisted the man in the noose and heard a slight "Snap" as the neck broke.
He tied the rope to a branch and looked at his handiwork, a grim smile touching his chiselled face as he turned and walked away.
He returned to the truck where the driver lay sleeping. and nudged him awake. "Wake up sweetie pie, time to go."
The truck roared into life and rumbled on its ponderous way to the next big town.
Colonel John Prendergast Porter was believed dead until after the war when he was found working as a gardner at a convent just out of Brussels, in Belgium.
Colonel Martin Ficherdorpf was also believed dead, until they tracked his
faithful batman Otto Glinz to a farm in the Transvaal. There they found Martin with his wife and three of his daughters.Two other daughters were married and mothers of a clutch of children each.
There was no hue and ,cry after Werner Schultz.
But he also lived a long and illustrious life under the auspices of a very discreet department of H.M.government.