It was very early Sunday, June 13th, 1943 when I was shot down by German fighter pilot Kurt Knappe ( a Spitfire got him 3 months later). They had a Doctor come and attend to me in about an hour. He dressed my wounds on my left leg, right foot and also the burns on my face. They put me on a mattress in their Parlour, held a cigarette for me to smoke, and fed me soup out of a teapot. I gave them my escape money and my escape photo. When I awoke in the morning I could no longer see. My eyes were swollen shit from the burns on my face. In this condition, I could not do much to help the Dutch family to help me. Unfortunately, The Germans were already searching the area for me. They had found the rest of the boys from my crew and were looking for the seventh - I was the only survivor. They could not hide me any longer and I was in no shape to escape. The Germans took me and sent me to Queen Wilhelmina Hospital in Amsterdam where I stayed for about four weeks. After about 10 days the swelling went down and I got my sight back. When I was able to travel I was taken to Frankfurt, Germany to a P.O.W. reception camp. After a week in the Hohemark hospital, a train load of us were sent north to Lithuania to Stalag Luft 6 at Hydekrug, where we spent a year. There I made a special friendship with Brian Filliter, Arthur Kingdon and many others. In the early summer of 1944, the Russians had cut off that part of Lituania. We were evacuated by boat ( the Interberg) from Memmel to Swinmunde at the mouth of the Oder River in northern Germany. Then we were sent by train to Grosse Tychow. Here we were lined up at the Railway siding and marched through a bush to a new prisoner camp - Stalag Luft 4. We were put on the run for about the last mile of the march and some of us were beaten and bayoneted. We spent the next two days in the forlager (pre camp) being searched, as we had radio parts distributed between a few men. We wintered at Stalag Luft 4. On Feb. 6th, 1945, we were put on the march west, ahead of the Russians front, for 450 miles until we met our own front. We were then placed into a camp at Falling Bostel - Stalag 357. While in this camp I met my fathers partners son, Bob Dalrymple, from my hometown Brucefield. He had been taken prisoner at Dieppe. I switched tags with another guy and swapped over to my hometown friends unit. A week later we were put out on march again, back ahead of our own front for 150 miles. On the morning of April 22nd or 23rd we were straffed by our own Aircraft while on march - 36 people were killed, 2 German guards, 6 Canadians, the rest were Australians, New Zealanders, and British. I lost one of my close pals, Gordon Douglas of Vancouver. We were liberated on May 2nd, 1945 by the Royal Dragoon Guards of Scotland. We made our own way back to a “holding unit” and were moved to Osnabruck by Motor Lorry. I was flown to England on May 8th - V.E. Day. After a month in England I was commissioned and came home to Canada by boat - arriving in July 1945.