This is a true story.
I've told it as it happened, without embellishment.
Here under German occupation
10,000 men suffered at the hands of the Nazis.
7,000 of them died.
A MAN ESCAPED
OR
THE WIND BLOWETH WHERE IT LISTETH
I could feel I was being watched.
I didn't dare move.
Nothing broken but I can't have been a pretty sight.
I wiped myself as best I could.
The charges against me were so great and I had aggravated them so,
why hadn't they shot me?
Waiting in the courtyard I had got used to the idea of dying.
I would have preferred to be executed at once.
The knocks from my neighbour were of some comfort to me.
I think my courage abandoned me for a moment and I cried.
I slept so soundly the guards had to wake me at dawn.
Get up.
Instinctively I pretended to be too weak to get up
and for it to take an enormous effort just to sit up.
Did that pathetic ruse save my life?
They pushed me back with kicks and punches and I was alone again.
My cell barely measured three metres by two.
It was sparsely furnished -
a wooden bedstead with a straw mattress and two blankets,
in a recess by the door a sanitary pail,
and lastly, set in the wall, a stone shelf.
I managed to climb onto that shelf to reach the window.
In the little courtyard below me
three well-dressed, clean-shaven men seemed to be circulating freely.
Be careful. I'll be back.
- What's your name? - Fontaine.
I'm Thierry.
Can I send letters out?
I know a way.
I knew, however, how careful I had to be.
Catch this.
A stranger telling me he could get letters out
had changed everything for me.
In spite of the handcuffs, I managed to wash my face and wounds.
I soon learnt to communicate with my neighbour.
He was a young foundry worker and had killed a German soldier during a brawl.
He was waiting to be shot any day now. He was 19-years-old.
With the string I had been thrown and my handkerchief, I had made a sort of bag.
You can give me your letters tomorrow.
Reassuring my family, giving them hope that I did not have,
but above all warning my leaders that the transmitter I had been in charge of
had been seized by the Germans and was now working for them.
I had decided to run the risk.
And what a risk it was.
Entrusting my letters to a stranger
could have meant my downfall and that of those they were addressed to.
Anyone could have seen us or caught us at any moment.
- Have you got a pin? - A pin? Wait.
He went over to the building occupied by the women.
This is from them.
On the paper, in a woman's handwriting, the words, "Good luck".
And there was a pin.
My neighbour had taught me how
but I didn't manage it straight away and didn't think I ever would.
PRESSURE RELEASES THE KEYHOLE
I was able to stretch out my arms and sore wrists
and I felt a sudden surge of victory.
Exceptionally, maybe uniquely,
the chief warder let Thierry see his daughter on certain days.
I only found out much later.
I had no idea of the risks he and his daughter were taking.
Once home, she sealed, stamped and posted the letters.
Your letters were sent yesterday. They should be there.
Thank you.
You've done your duty. That should help you stay strong.
Look.
Be careful.
So, Lieutenant Fontaine,
have you come to terms with your failure?
I'll be honest with you, I would have jumped out of the car too.
But now you must give me your word that you won't try to escape again.
I give you my word.
What game were we playing. Of course he didn't believe me.
As for me, I was determined to escape at the first opportunity.
Did he want to see a starving man falling on his food?
It was my first meal in four days.
I spent more and more time at the window.
I could see the courtyard, the walls and the infirmary.
I was mentally preparing myself.
I knew the executions took place within the prison walls.
A terrible thought crossed my mind.
He was there.
I spent the rest of the day tapping a battalion song
he had asked me the chorus of.
It was the only help I could give him.
The next day the chief warder came to get me.
Jacket.
Towel.
I had been moved from the ground floor to cell number 107 on the top floor.
To my right there was no one. The cell was empty.
To my left I had a neighbour but he hadn't replied.
I tried to tell from their faces what sort of men they were.
I looked at the walls too.
- Did you arrive yesterday? - 15 days ago. 15 years more like.
You get used to it, I promise you.
My name is Hebrard.
No talking!
I'm Fontaine.
After emptying our pails and washing our faces,
we went back to our cells for the rest of the day.
With nothing to do and no news, the loneliness was frightening.
We were one hundred unfortunates awaiting our fate.
I was under no illusion about my own -
to escape, to run away.
I owed my first chance to luck and idleness.
I often sat in front of my door with nothing better to do than cast my eyes over it.
It was made of two panels of six planks of oak
held in frames of the same thickness.
In a gap between two planks
it looked to me as if the joint wasn't made of oak
but a different coloured wood - beech or poplar.
There was bound to be a way of dismantling this door.
To get an iron spoon - pewter and aluminium were too soft or too brittle -
I had to wait for several meals to be handed out.
I made it into a kind of chisel.
No, there was no mortise and tenon joint cut into the oak planks themselves.
They were attached by a strip of soft wood that my tool could easily tackle.
I calculated that I would need four or five days to get through a strip
by cutting and splintering the wood.
At the same time every evening I had to take a breather.
Progress was slow because I was afraid of making a noise
and of being caught.
What's more, I had to keep sweeping under my door
with a wisp of straw pulled out of the broom in my cell.
Fontaine, are you there?
Is that you, Thierry?
Good to see you again. I've missed you.
I'm leaving.
Are they letting you go?
God knows where they're taking me.
How he'd tricked the guards to get to my door I never knew.
My neighbour on the ground floor?
Shot the day before yesterday. Goodbye.
Thierry's departure and the death of the friend I had never seen
left me feeling distraught.
However, I carried on with my work
to keep my mind off things.
I had to get this door open. Beyond that I had no plans.
A new inmate, Pastor de Leyris,
took on my trust and my need for friendship.
I was arrested yesterday at my pulpit. I had no time to take anything.
Nothing?
I used to dream of being alone someday with my Bible.
I don't have a Bible, but I have a pencil.
That's amazing.
You must keep busy. Write to try and stay sane.
I do.
Three planks should give me a big enough opening.
Someone was keeping watch opposite.
That made my job a lot easier.
But my neighbour's silence troubled me.
We're free to talk. They're all down on the other side.
Are you scared?
I knew he was there. I was sure of it.
I was so obsessed with him, I no longer dared touch my door.
I just plugged up the holes with paper I'd dirtied on the floor.
He shot us a distraught look.
That evening Blanchet - that was his name - was at the window.
Dollars, Mr Blanchet? Dollars belonging to you?
No, to a Jewish lady. I'd never seen her before.
She gave them to me the day she was captured.
How did they find out?
A letter in a bundle of laundry.
They'll let you go.
No.
What can I do for you?
Nothing.
There's always something.
If you want to help me, stop scratching.
You'll get the whole floor into trouble.
After three weeks, working as quietly as possible,
I managed to separate three planks, lengthwise.
But they were still attached at the top and bottom,
fastened by joints which bent my spoon.
In order to dislodge them from the frame I needed another spoon
so I could apply enough pressure.
The Bible?
I'm lucky.
It's a miracle. Everything has changed since yesterday.
Silence. No talking.
I'm lucky too.
I'd splintered the frame but over a wider area than I'd intended.
I managed to put the piece back and hold it in place.
Why are you doing this?
To fight - fight against the walls, against myself, my door.
You should fight too, Mr Blanchet, and hope.
Hope for what?
To go home, to be free.
Free?
Is someone waiting for you?
No, no one.
A friend?
I have no friends.
Fight anyway. Fight for everyone here.
It's a comfort to be looking out for others.
What do you do?
I look out for you and that gives me courage.
If I had the courage, I'd kill myself.
I tried. I made a noose with my shoelace. The nail fell.
And then?
I heard someone knocking on the wall.
It was me when I got here. Why didn't you answer?
Why?
My main worry was that someone would open or shut my door suddenly.
Luckily I was able to take care of it myself.
- How are you? - Fine.
His wife denounced him, betrayed him.
These things happen.
In life.
How horrible.
What a contemptible woman. Did he kill her?
As good as.
We thought he was going crazy.
Now he's a different man.
His face no longer knows hatred or suffering.
His name is Orsini.
Talking about me, Father?
I said you were courage incarnate.
A month of hard work and my door was open.
What took time was putting it back in place and concealing it.
Inside, no patrol, no guards.
Going out into the corridor was no big deal.
But I had a goal.
No exercise or food.
What is it?
It's me, cell 107.
Impossible.
Stay strong. I'll come back and see you tomorrow.
His surprise made me happy.
That night I fell asleep less unhappy.
It was you in the corridor. Don't lie.
It was me.
You're leaving. How will you do it?
I swear, I have absolutely no idea.
The head warder and the sergeant slept on the first floor.
The corporal slept on the ground floor near a door he had the key to.
This door remained locked at night.
I considered every possible alternative, even impossible ones.
I hatched a thousand plans but got nowhere.
Read and pray. God will save you.
He'll only save us if we give him a hand.
Do you never pray?
Occasionally.
When things are going badly?
Yes.
That's easy.
Too easy.
It would be too easy if God took care of everything.
You're the only one here who thinks of escaping.
The only one because it's impossible.
Take me.
You won't make it.
I have to. In the military it's called a reconnaissance mission.
Be careful.
If I'm not in the corridor at ten o'clock...
At ten o'clock, I was under the skylight.
I feared the worst.
The plan for leaving the building and how to dismantle your door.
Read it carefully and tear it up.
You can count on me but don't think I'm "courage incarnate".
You managed to forgive and forget.
No, I still think about it but it's as if it happened to someone else.
Trust me. It will all work out.
12 metres of rope strong enough to support a man
was what I needed.
The mesh of the bedstead gave me 15 metres of strong flexible wire.
I made my first piece of rope with the help of the bolster.
I put the horsehair stuffing into the mattress.
I folded the cloth into four,
turning the borders inwards, to prevent fraying.
I twisted it tightly.
Wrapping wire in the opposite direction
meant I could keep the cloth twisted.
Your door?
I'll try again.
Try, Orsini. Try again.
Tomorrow I'll tell you if we split up or stay together.
- What's wrong? - Too long, too complicated.
Everything.
But it's the only way.
There's another.
What?
During our walk, with two ropes and two hooks.
What hooks?
He didn't say.
And the guards doing their rounds?
He waits till they pass.
Where?
On the roof of the toilet block. He climbs up the drainpipe and hides.
In daylight they'll see him from the building.
His plan is no good.
The next day I couldn't talk to Orsini. He was taken in for questioning.
How was the questioning?
They reassure us, threaten us. You know the routine.
Orsini is happy.
- Is everything OK? - Fine.
You must stay calm.
- Are you giving up? - They're letting me go.
- Do you believe them? - Yes.
You're right to.
No talking.
Orsini!
I was so closely watched for eight days that we lost contact.
What was he doing? I didn't understand.
What's wrong?
Where is Orsini?
God, let him make it.
No talking!
Will they shoot me?
Be strong, Orsini. I'm sure they won't.
My rope broke at the second wall.
You'll need hooks, Fontaine.
What hooks? How? What with?
The frame of your lamp.
Watch out!
Don't blame yourself. You couldn't have stopped him.
He couldn't wait any longer.
Why? Out of hopelessness?
Too much hope for a new life.
A new life?
Maybe that is what Christ meant.
"Except a man be born again..." I've written the passage down for you.
These are his words to Nicodemus.
"Nicodemus saith unto him, How can a man be born when he is old?
"Can he enter the second time into his mother's womb? Jesus answered,
"Marvel not that I said unto thee ye must be born again.
"The wind bloweth where it listeth and thou canst not tell whence it cometh."'
Are you listening?
I'm listening.
It's him.
Are you sure?
Sure?
Can we be sure of anything here?
I emptied everything down the drain.
The edge of the roof of our building had to be in line with the outer walls.
I had to wait. I was getting closer to my goal. The slightest mistake could be fatal.
It's there.
I see.
I knew it was risky to climb down during a patrol
and to climb the second wall.
I was feeling less strong.
I'll hang a rope between the walls and monkey-climb across.
You'll need two hooks for that. Three in all. Do you have them?
I will have them.
Orsini had to fail so you could succeed.
It's incredible.
I'm not telling you anything you don't know.
What's incredible, Mr Blanchet, is that it's you who is saying it.
I made the third hook with the two shortest bars.
It was as good as the others, both in shape and strength.
With the wire I made three loops
that I attached to the shaft of each hook.
Tests showed that both the hooks and loops would withstand my pulling.
I've just seen three inmates being shot for smuggling out letters.
I have been asked to tell you other smugglers will suffer the same fate.
Those who have pencils can hand them over at dinner time.
Tomorrow cells will be searched.
Anyone caught in possession of a pencil will be put up against the wall and shot.
Has everyone understood?
Will you hand yours in?
It's best to.
No talking!
Pencil?
No pencil.
How stupid.
And just so as not to give in.
The next day the thought of a search paralysed me.
Parcel.
A parcel? Was this what would save me?
Maybe.
What resourcesl
Too bad. I had to.
I made braids the like the ones my mother used to make with my sisters' hair.
I tore everything up. I kept only a handkerchief.
I used the string to tie them together.
I would throw this rope from one wall to the other.
It had to be supple and even.
The wire wouldn't have worked.
Besides, I had used it all up.
With the blanket Blanchet gave me, I had enough for the other rope.
We were only let out now in small groups of 15.
The prison was filling up. It wasn't uncommon to see two prisoners in a cell.
People appeared and disappeared like ghosts.
I saw one man in a wedding suit.
If Fontaine is going, now's the time.
His case is weak.
That man is a snitch.
What if it's true?
Fontaine has said too much. It's unwise.
Not too tough, Father?
They've put me in the Pastor's cell.
He's a good companion.
We have to warn him.
What will be, will be. We can't do anything about it.
But he can.
So he says.
No one believes you. You're stalling.
- Stalling? - You think too much. You're a perfectionist.
Me?
You really need someone?
- I'm waiting for an answer. - Who?
Cell 110 opposite. He hasn't given in. He's got guts.
Your plan is pure fantasy.
After three months you're weaker.
Stronger. You adapt, you get used to it.
It's a blessing.
Or a trap.
Do you really want to go?
I'm ready.
Then don't wait too long.
- Would you follow me? - If I could swap my body for another.
We'll meet again.
In another life, maybe.
In this life we're living. Have faith.
Have faith in your hooks and ropes and in yourself.
You have doubts.
What's hard is taking the plunge.
Your case is officially closed, Lieutenant Fontaine.
The charges against you of espionage and the bomb attack
are both punishable by death.
Accordingly, you shall be shot.
Were they taking me back to the prison?
It was a harrowing journey.
Was I going back to the same cell?
I laughed nervously which soothed me.
And yet once again a little later on
I feared my efforts were in vain.
Dressed half like a French soldier half like a German soldier, he was filthy.
He looked as if he was barely 16.
Are you German?
French?
What's your name?
Jost. François Jost.
Had they sent me a stool pigeon?
Did they hope I'd be so shaken by the verdict that I would talk?
Give me your hand, Jost.
There's not much room.
They caught me and accused me of being a deserter.
Do you believe me?
Yes.
I believed him, but at the same time I felt most uneasy.
I did it for France. Why else would I have joined up?
France is your khakis and bootstraps.
That's all you have left.
- How was I supposed to know? - You should have known.
They sent me to the railway before my sentence was up
to stop French passengers from using the carriages.
What carriages?
The ones reserved for troops. That's how I ended up here three days ago.
Stand at the door. When they open up, ask for another mattress.
His request was granted. He even got a blanket.
Were you both drunk?
We were playing with my gun, shooting into the air.
Not just in the air from the sound of it. Was this policeman French?
Yes.
- Did you see him him fall? - I forget. We ran off.
That was the wrong thing to do.
A quarter of an hour later we were in a cell.
Then they came for me.
- Why? - To transfer me to another prison.
What about you? Tell me.
It's time to be quiet.
You can finish it.
Lie down and sleep.
His arrival coinciding with me being sentenced troubled me.
I had no time to lose.
I was going to have to choose. Either I took Jost with me or I got rid of him.
My heaviest hook would make an effective weapon.
But killing this kid in cold blood would demand courage.
Go and wash.
Go now. Don't wait any longer.
You're no longer alone.
Be careful, Fontaine.
You're not saying much.
I'm out of practice.
I know why you're here.
Tell me.
Because you blew up a bridge.
- I swear... - I'd have liked that job.
Job?
Jost, blowing up a bridge, and they're well guarded,
can cost you your life.
You can't be a chicken or a coward.
I'm no chicken, no coward.
No man can serve two masters.
Did you choose to wear that uniform?
I didn't choose anything.
Does my jacket bother you?
Don't. It won't change a thing.
You are what you are.
What am I?
Stay filthy, keep your lice.
I bet you're covered in them.
Just a few, maybe.
Really?
You would have to turn up.
They've all gone.
What's wrong?
Nothing.
Do you think they'll keep me here long?
You're asking me?
Very long.
Weeks, months, one year, two years perhaps.
Locked up here?
Or just a few days.
It depends if you do them any favours or not.
What favours?
Watch out, Jost. The war will end one day and they'll lose.
They won't lose the war.
They will, and they'll leave.
They're bad angels who'll leave you alone
in your own country with no one to defend you.
There will be no pity.
I'm too young to worry.
No pity for the young.
Think hard.
Think about what?
Anyway, it's too late now.
Too late?
- Do you believe in luck? - I did.
It didn't get me anywhere.
Maybe you ruined your chances.
Why did you leave home?
It was just something to do.
What did your father say?
My father didn't care.
- And your mother? - She followed me to the station.
I lost her and managed to get on the train.
She must have loved you.
More than my other brothers, more than my sister even.
- You have a sister? - She was tiny but pretty, a beauty.
My mother was pretty too.
- Wouldn't you like to see them again? - Yes, but I don't see how.
What are you writing?
Come and see.
That's our pencil.
It's yours too if you need it.
Why do you hide it?
Because it's forbidden.
If they find it, we'll be shot.
Shot for a pencil?
The evening meal was handed out and I still hadn't told Jost anything.
The night was dark.
The following night would be darker.
It had to be tomorrow.
But would I have to kill him?
Wake up, Jost.
My last wishes in case I don't make it.
Do you mind?
I promise.
My God.
I also wrote down what I've done and still have to do to escape.
I want people to know.
Pray for me, Father.
And you too.
Goodbye.
I'll never have a chance like that.
What if you did?
Like when you go in for questioning?
What would you do?
I'd use the opportunity to escape.
- Do you think so? - Yes.
It's often easier when you're two.
You help each other.
It's not just when you're in for questioning.
What do you mean?
If you agreed to help me,
maybe we could...
Leave here?
You can't mean it.
Have you seen these walls?
And these bars?
Be reasonable, Fontaine.
Are you joking?
I'm not joking.
I've planned it all, worked it all out,
from leaving the building to getting over the ramparts.
I've thought of almost everything.
We may have some surprises.
I say "we" because now...
Believe me, I have everything I need.
I'm sure of my the tools I've made,
sure of myself, sure of my chances, sure of yours.
You won't regret coming. I'll take care of you once we're out.
I'll make sure you make the most of your freedom.
You've worked so hard.
It's tempting.
Tempting?
But Jost...
You no longer have a choice. You must understand that.
I'm free to say yes or no.
Now that you know everything?
Now that I know everything.
Enough!
And don't you dare scream. Or raise the alarm.
If you betray me, if you get us caught...
Who do you take me for, Fontaine?
So it's yes?
Yes.
I emptied my mattress into Jost's
and cut the cloth according to my measurements.
In under two hours the rope was ready and tested
and the cell was tidied and swept.
Will you knock?
I'll knock.
Farewell, my friend.
First the heel,
then the toe.
We made four bundles -
one with our shoes tied together,
another with our jackets,
a third with the long rope and its hook.
The last one with the soft rope was for the ramparts.
The gravel crunched under our feet. We had to stop.
It took us more than 20 minutes to reach the edge overlooking the courtyard.
What was that squeaking we kept hearing?
I couldn't figure out what was causing it.
He was armed with a machine gun.
I could make out the grenade on his belt
and the bayonet poking out of its sheath.
I heard the clock strike midnight.
Then one o'clock.
Their movements were identical.
They moved up and down the wall.
They rarely reached the corner and never went past it.
By climbing down the other side
I could hide unseen in the corner and wait for the right moment.
For this man had to die.
Down you go.
I put down the iron hook. This weapon didn't seem right.
I had to act but I couldn't.
I needed two hands to stop my heart from pounding.
Had he sat down?
Was he lighting a cigarette?
He'd stopped coming up to where I was.
He was right nearby, a metre away from me.
He was turning around.
He'd left our jackets and shoes on the roof,
but I said nothing.
Had I been alone, I might still be there.
All I knew about the guards' watch was that there was a sentry box at each corner.
Were they manned or not?
They weren't.
He's alone.
Cut the electricity.
How?
Hurry.
The hook.
Jost was shaking. Maybe I was too.
I hesitated.
I heard the clock strike four.
Time was running out. Our chances were dwindling.
Jost!
If only my mother could see me now.
THE END