Former Resident Tells of His Escape
James Stewart Gives Credit to "Croaking Frogs"
Bainbridge News & Republican, July 31, 1941
[Note: James W. Stewart was the son of Clarissa Sands (Arnold) Stewart Beatty and step-son of Harrison L. Beatty of Bainbridge, Chenango Co., NY. He lived in Bainbridge at "Harmonie Farms" following the marriage of Clarissa Stewart and Harrison Beatty.]
Crediting croaking frogs with aiding them to escape from Occupied France, two Americans, Survivors of the ZamZam returned to United States Shores on the American liner, Excalibur. they are James W. Stewart, of Oneonta [Otsego Co., NY], and formerly of Bainbridge[Chenango Co., NY], and Thomas O. Greenough, of Profit, Va., members of the British-American Ambulance Corps.
Relating their escape while traveling by train from Occupied France to a prison camp, Jimmy, as he is known to his friends in Bainbridge, stated:
"We followed the sound of croaking frogs knowing there was water and after you have gone three days without water, even a frog pond is a Godsend. We were being taken from Biarritz to some place in Germany, when Tom suggested we try to escape. We were fed up with German guards insistence that escape was impossible and when we learned that instead of being headed toward Lisbon we were headed for Germany, we decided that the first opportunity presented would find us waiting. At midnight on June 27, we reached a city of about 46,000 population which we will not name, and we went out through the window. We ran into two German guards. Tom spoke German and French and convinced them we had left out papers at home and were tired after working in the yards 18 hours. They let us by. Finally, after three days of existence on sour black bread and a can of sardines, we heard frogs croaking and we followed the noise to a stagnant pond but water never tasted better. From that time on we, traveling by night, followed the frog music and had water." Before the pair made their escape, they stripped themselves of all insignia and borrowed civilian clothing from among the 19 others of the captured corps.
Oneonta Man Tells of Flight From Nazis
Ambulance Driver and Companion Jump Through Window
Syracuse Herald Journal, July 28, 1941
The stage was all set. The only thing between the two Americans and freedom from their Nazi guards was an open window in the railroad coach-an open window and 40 miles of unknown countryside swarming with German soldiers.
One of them started through the window. He was half-way through when a step sounded in the corridor. His companion jerked him back. A split-second later a guard in the uniform of the German military field police poked his head into the compartment. The guard looked around, noted that two of the six prisoners in the compartment appeared to be in a drunken sleep and passed on his way.
The two "drunks" immediately came to life and, this time, both went through the window into the dim night. Four days and three nights later, after nerve-trying narrow escapes and much physical suffering, they crossed from occupied into unoccupied France and made their way to Marseille, Lisbon and freedom aboard the S.S. Excalibur. They were James W. Stewart, 36, of Oneonta, N.Y., and Thomas Greenough, 30, of Charlottesville, Va., members of the British-American Ambulance Corps unit aboard the Egyptian liner Zamzam when it was shelled and sunk without warning by the German raider Tamesis last April 17.
They escaped from the prison train on June 28 and, walking at night and hiding by day, made their way to freedom by the guiding light of the North Star. On their arrival here, they were sun-tanned and in good health. Both were fully recovered from the series of adventures which saw them confined 33 days on a German supply ship at sea and imprisoned a month in a Biarritz hotel before their escape. When told today that a new ambulance unit had been organized to sail for Africa Aug. 20 they joined up again.
Stewart and Greenough said they had planned for weeks to escape. They finally made the dash when one of their Nazi guards angered them by intimating he didn't think "these Americans" would have the courage to try to escape. Stewart, a stocky, bespectacled owner of an ice plant in private life, and Greenough, blond-six-foot-two assistant headmaster at a boys' school, were careful to avoid identifying the region of their escape, fearing the Germans would punish Frenchmen who befriended them.
After their fellow passengers aboard the Zamzam had been released by the Germans at Biarritz and permitted to return to America, members of the ambulance corps were placed under guard in a small Biarritz hotel on May 31. On June 28 they were put aboard a train bound for Bordeaux. About 9 P.M. they arrived at Bordeaux and transferred to a third class coach on the Paris Express. The 21 Americans were alone in the coach with six armed Germans in uniforms of the military field police. They were being taken to the Black Forest in Germany.
"The first part of the escape plan was to feign intoxication," Stewart said. "A small bottle of cognac which we had brought along gave credence to our action. Occasionally a guard would step into the compartment for a routine check-up. Between these inspections Greenough and I changed from our ambulance corps uniform piece by piece to the civilian clothes in our rucksacks. Four comrades in the compartment aided us. One of them, Arthur Bing Mueller of Butte, Mont., allowed us to 'steal' a few dollars from his pocket while he pretended to sleep. We each had a loaf of German black bread and a can of sardines.
"Finally, all was ready. Shortly after midnight the train stopped at a station between Bordeaux and Paris. Greenough started through the window but I jerked him back when I heard a guard coming. The guard found everything to his satisfaction and moved on. Greenough jumped. I whispered a 'so-long' to the four others and followed. Apparently no one saw us jump. We looked quickly around, then slipped through the dim light of the station yards toward the shadows. Clambering through a heap of scrap iron Greenough's foot became caught. The noise attracted German soldiers guarding the station. They hurried up, their flashlights playing over the iron heap but we managed to slip away unnoticed. Taking our bearings from the north star we set off to the southeast.
"Our second narrow escape occurred crossing the town. A German soldier appeared. We quickly decided it would be foolish to run. The soldier challenged us with 'Halt; have you any identification papers' in German. Greenough, replied "Nein." Then in rapid French said we were railroad workers on our way home and had forgotten our identity cards. The German let us pass.
"No one else laid eyes on us from that time, late Saturday night, until the following Wednesday morning when we crossed into Free France. The next four nights and three days were a nightmare. The nights were cold. I had a coat but Tom was in his shirt sleeves. The blisters on my feet made every step an ordeal. We didn't dare ask for food or water. We rationed ourselves to a sandwich a day. From Saturday until Sunday morning we were without water. Then the croaking of frogs led us to a pond."
This might be the frontier between occupied and unoccupied France. They turned from the road, walking rapidly across a field parallel to the barrier, for half a mile. Then they made a right angle turn straight toward what they prayed was safety. The exhausted pair walked as rapidly as possible for seven hours. They determined to ask the first person they saw where they were. About 9 A.M. they saw a woman outside a farm house. Greenough asked if they were in Free France. The woman replied "None of France is free," and that is all they could learn from her. Within a few minutes, however, they met a peasant. He assured them they were in Free France and the two weary ambulance drivers drew their first easy breath in four days. That was July 2.
Local French authorities soon spotted them and gave them the friendly advice to hide their identity until they contacted United States authorities at Marseilles. This they did without further misadventure. From Marseilles, Stewart and Greenough went to Lisbon whence they sailed on the Excalibur July 8.
Dunkirk Evening Observer, July 29, 1941
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