Nicholas Mather
Resuming from where we left off in my December 2024 post “Rediscovery of the Casa near Popoli” and previous to that in my piece posted in June 2024 about our treks through the Sibilini hills.
Background
Family and friends of Carol Mather are walking down the Apennine Mountain range, in long-weekend trips spread over three years, tracking at least 200 km of our father’s 1,000km trek south following escape from PoW camp PG49. Until the Armistice on 8th September 1943, Carol and his companion Archie Hubbard had been held captive in the camp, a former orphanage in the town of Fontanellato, near Parma. Their goal in walking south was to reach the Allied lines; however, these lines were further south than they had understood, Montgomery’s 8th Army HQ being based at Campobasso, to the north of Naples. This meant a five and a half week hike across some very challenging and mountainous terrain; to make matters worse, while in general they stayed high – sticking to the ridges – they had to descend from time to time and to cross multiple rivers, as well as several major roads carrying German transport. By this point in their journey, where our party walked this year, they are less than 4 days from Allied lines near Campobasso.
Technical note: Carol Mather left his family not one but three maps of his escape route, each showing a slightly different route for the final leg! His letters, written on the troopship home, and his book When the Grass Stops Growing (With Stirling’s SAS in the Desert) have provided essential clues in our attempt to retrace his actual footsteps. But nothing beats walking the path yourself…
The Maiella Mountains: the hunt for the route
After leaving the “casa” just south of the Pescara river (now “Azienda agrituristica La Torretta”), Carol wrote:
“The obstacles ahead included five rivers, several roads and one big range of mountains – the Maiella, which rose to 8,000 ft.”
In May 2025, Rupert Barclay, Rodolfo Nasini and I spent four days tracing what we believe was my father’s route from the rediscovered casa on the Pescara through the central valley of the Maiella range south towards the Allied lines on the Biferno River. This was part of our research ahead of a final family walk in October to mark the end of his journey.
After the Arcadian beauty of the Sibillini and the dramatic peaks of the Gran Sasso, the Maiella range did not disappoint. Stretching across two massifs, its heights rival the Gran Sasso, and we found the high valley between the massifs both stunning and, crucially, an easier, more sheltered route than circumnavigating the mountains on the Adriatic side, if tackled early enough in the season.
This route we identified (see map 1) starts at the Casa/Azienda just above the Pescara river, climbs the hill, passing above Caramanico Terme (556m), to the beautiful old hill town of Roccacaramanico (1100m), which reportedly has a population of only six people today, then over the Leonardo Pass (1285m), and finally rises from Campo di Giove (now a ski resort) over a shoulder before dropping down into Palena on the southeast slope. In view of its elevation this route was only easily passable before the winter snows came.
As we started to research this path we could not ignore alternative routes passing to the east of the Maiella at much lower altitude. That routing, taken by numerous other escapers, carried two risks: the first was driven by topography, specifically huge ravines as the mountain rivers gushed towards the sea, and the second was the heavy presence of the enemy guarding the narrow land strip here between the mountains and the Adriatic. In autumn/winter the swollen rivers were impassable, and this meant that escapers who took the easterly route mostly had to “hole up” with villagers or in caves, and hope that the enemy would be pushed back from the November battle line along the Sangro river (tracking the SS652 through Bomba here):
Young men in a hurry
As we discuss below, we believe that Archie and Carol were the only PG 49 escapees who took the central route through the heart of the Maiella; the crucial advantage they had was their speed in arriving at the Maiella, before the snows came. At this point it is perhaps worth understanding the nature of these two young men. Modestly prevents me from painting too flattering a portrait of my father, but suffice to say that he had been brought up with holidays camping outdoors, and had engaged in two rugged “gap year” type holidays in the Yukon and Newfoundland before signing up to the Welsh Guards and later joining David Stirling on the SAS airfield raids. Let’s just say that he was tougher than the average Harrow school boy and had a great sense of humour and ability to build friendships. And this is what he had to say about his companion Archie Hubbard:
“Archie had qualities well adapted for such a time. We never had a quarrel or dispute as far as I can remember. Of tough and wiry physique, he could well withstand the rigours of the pace. His chosen profession after the war was that of hop-farmer and his reaction to events was that of a placid countryman with a countryman’s instincts. It was almost impossible to distinguish him from the real contadini so convincing was his appearance, particularly with his gift for picking up the local dialect. What bound us together was our itchy feet and our determination to keep going come what may”.
We believe that the plucky duo crossed the Pescara river on 13th October 1943, their 34th day on the run, well ahead of several other groups. And by taking the central route they were able to move more quickly thereafter, with a huge mountain separating them from the German army on the east coast; while forest tracks would have offered both cover and isolation from the more populated western valleys. It struck us as the most logical route south, especially when viewed from Carol and Archie’s starting point at “the Casa”. We were keen to explore this section of their trek, in order to prove viability.
Fast-approaching winter
The early onset of winter starting in October 1943 had a critical impact on most escapees. After several balmy weeks of often carefree hiking, the weather starting to worsen on 29th September, with constant drizzling rains setting in from 7th October, accompanied by a bitter northern wind from the 12th. During the second half of the month the weather deteriorated further with snow settling on the higher ground in the Maiella range. Some late-comers were forced to hole up in caves for several weeks or even for the whole winter. Some of these were eventually recaptured, Eric Newby being the best known; he was captured on 29th December in the hills close to Florence. Of those who eventually made it through: Richard (Dick) Carver, Monty’s stepson and another fellow Fontanellato inmate, came through the Maiella in November, after living miserably in a cave near Gessopalena for two weeks; and Anthony Hough (Carol’s SAS and Chieti camp comrade) spent part of that winter in caves near Pretoro – the very town where we based ourselves for our May recce.
In a strange coincidence, the family owning the Pretoro B&B where we stayed in May had sheltered Anthony during the war, very bravely given the German presence in the town. Gerald Hough’s book was, fittingly, the first thing I noticed when we checked in.
We explore the Maiella route
We were surprised to find snow still covering the Maiella peaks in mid-May, which stopped us from climbing over the pass to Palena. Instead, we walked part of the presumed route from Pacentro to Camp di Giove, following the “Freedom Trail” (Il Cammino del Sentiero della Libertà). Campo di Giove played a key role in this escape route during WWII. In “The Way Out” South African writer Uys Krige recounts how he and other fugitives – Italian and foreign – found support here from courageous townspeople.
Returning in October this year with family members, to better match the season of Carol and Archie’s walk, we received an unpleasant reminder of the conditions that the escapers faced from late-September 1943. Our drive from Rome airport to our B&B in Roccacaramanico (alt. 1100m) started calmly, but then as we climbed into the Maiella we were met by horizontal rain and an impenetrable fog.
Waking the next morning to the same conditions we decided to walk the section of their path that runs from the hill above Caramanico Terme (at c.1300m) to Roccacaramanico through beech and oak woods, tramping along for four hours in the driving rain. Starting from “la Casa” we were sure that they would have taken this route, at an elevation of 1200 metres, rather than risk being silhouetted on the skyline. How wooded it would have been back then we could not tell, but it is probable that the cover here would have been superior to the ridge. As we enjoyed a warm meal that evening, we were reminded of how much worse it must have been for the escapers, with no decent rainwear, sleeping wet in barns or caves and pulling on their damp clothes again in the morning, day after day, week after week. It was a sobering thought.
On the following day the rain had ceased. We had managed to dry our clothes overnight, while the escapers would have relied only on the sun, wind and body heat to dry their costumes. Overnight the wind had swung around to the northeast; our guide Rodolfo feared that the next morning would see snow again on the high pass to Palena, making it dangerous especially in combination with high winds. We moved again to plan B, driving to Palena and then climbing back up through the beech woods towards the pass. Indeed, more than a dusting of snow had fallen the previous night, and we were reminded of how beautiful a face those dangerous mountains could offer to the weary traveller. As we climbed towards the woods we found a sunken path, gloriously dotted with bright red rosehips; the blackberries had shrunken on the bramble but crab apple were in rich abundance. Well sheltered in the beech woods as we climbed, our later downward tread was cushioned by a deep carpet of beechmast. There were compensations…
Shifting battle lines
At this stage it may help us to understand how the battle lines were shifting. Under Kesselring, the Germans conducted a skilful grinding retreat from one river line to the next, using artillery to great effect. Hilltop gunners on both sides were key to the battle.
When Carol and Archie crossed German lines on 17th October, the Germans were in the process of retreating northwest from the Volturno line (on the River Biferno here), to the Barbara Line on the River Trigno.
Fellow travellers
Several other escapees from Fontanellato have documented their travels; allowing us to compare the routes they took and the experiences they underwent.
Map 3 shows the routes taken by three groups of PG 49 escapees, marked from the southern edge of the Gran Sasso mountains and down to Allied lines near Larino (Campobasso).
These groups were:
- George (Toots) Williams, Hugh Jobson, Ted Pryke and Ian Shaw (green)
- Richard Carver (red)
- Mather and Hubbard (blue, and possibly blue/purple)
Anthony Hough, mentioned above, was not a PG 49 inmate; he and Carol had been captured while engaged in the same SAS raid in North Africa and had initially been imprisoned at Chieti, visible on Map 3 near Pescara. But Carol had swapped identities with another officer being sent north to Fontanellato; they were not to meet up on their escape journeys.
Also not shown is the route of Hugh Mainwaring and his companions who took a seemingly highly risky path between the green line and the coast. Mainwaring was an older and more experienced soldier; he was the officer who volunteered to plan the initial evacuation of PG 49, and to find a hiding place (for 600 prisoners!) in a local wood, before the various groups took their futures into their own hands.
Of those I have researched, Hugh Mainwaring’s group was amongst the first back to Monty’s 8th Army, crossing south of Larino on 13th October.
George (Toots) Williams, Hugh Jobson, Ted Pryke and Ian Shaw (in green) also arrived back on 13th October, beating Mainwaring’s group by a few hours, and three days ahead of Carol & Archie (in blue). Toots’s son, Peter, later combined their diaries into a vivid account – even including every meal that they ate. They took more risks, often staying closer to the coastal plain and lodging with priests. My father later wrote to Peter:
“the difference in our route was that we kept as far as possible to the heights and avoided all villages, monasteries, priests and carabinieri after having had such a nasty shock on our second day. Although we received a better reception in the mountains, we missed all those hot meals in the latter stages, worse luck!”
Always present as a major factor influencing movement was the state of play of the battle, and the concentration of German troops at any one time; all the prisoners had one thing in common, a strong desire not to be caught in the final furlong. At the same time the very fact that the Germans were in retreat could sometimes by used to advantage, simply by staying put just behind their lines, well hidden, and letting them withdraw past you during the night.
Williams and his group benefited from this factor; they saw the drama play out from dress circle seats on a hilltop (at Morrone del Sannio-see map 4 below), witnessing twin battles as Yorkshire and Cheshire units advanced from Larino and Bonefro, pushed the Germans back, forcing them to withdrew overnight; this allowed the escapers to walk freely into Casacalenda on 14th October. Richard Carver crossed later still, staying holed up north of the Sangro (on the Gustav line) until 26 November. (After the battles for the Biferno in early/mid October the weather deteriorated, with heavy rain leaving deep mud on the trails, while Montgomery delayed his move forward to the Sangro for logistical reasons.)
With this context in mind, we return to Carol and Archie’s trip south. As mentioned above, for their march from the Gran Sasso to the southern Maiella, we believe Carol and Archie took the more westerly route (shown in blue in map 3), straight through the pass between the twin Maiella ranges. Their route avoided the sheer drops and deep ravines on the northeastern slopes that Carver, Gough, and Williams mention in their accounts. For the latter, crossing the Pescara at Torre de’ Passeri, 6 km downstream from Mather’s crossing (see top left corner of map 1), made the red and green routes geographically sensible, especially for the later travellers for whom weather in the mountains became a major factor.
South from the Maiella
After the Maiella, a less mountainous stretch lay ahead. The hills between the Sangro, Trigno, and Biferno are blessed with rolling countryside topped by higher ridges, some of which now carry ghostly lines of white wind turbines; the port city of Termoli and the sea are clearly visible from the southern ridges.
Carol is silent on this section from the Maiella to the Trigno, so this was the toughest part of our research; but we were helped by the daily diaries of Williams et al, on a very similar routing. In May we scouted two possible routes south and east from Campo di Giove (marked in blue and purple in map 3). Both pass through Castiglione Messer Marino, a stunning hill town also known as the birthplace of the father of racing driver Juan Manuel Fangio (second last black dot on map 3, also see map 4).
I favoured the purple route – an ancient tratturo, or sheep drove, used by pastori to move their flocks south before winter, and north onto the Abruzzo hills in summer. My father, a nature lover and romantic, would have relished the idea.
For practical reasons too, these ancient routes were ideal for cautious escapers. Tratturi typically avoided the towns which didn’t always welcome “a sea of sheep stretching in front of you, from hilltop to hilltop”. Our attempt to find the tratturo near Trivento led to a noisy run-in with a large truck (for driving too slowly) and a wary local (for loitering and staring into space outside his house)! I remain a huge advocate of the road trip. I have travelled across Russia and Ukraine – in better times – and I believe that, sometimes, not knowing exactly where you are is often the best way to strike up conversations with characterful and knowledgeable locals. But it helps to be able to explain your confusion!
Inevitably this stretch through open country led to more encounters with people and heightened risks of recapture.
Carol continues the story:
On the 37th day of continuous walking we called in at a farm for directions. All the women were in tears – “There are Germans everywhere, they take everything. From here one hour ago they took a sheep. They are now at the farm below. What ugly times! Mamma mia, when will it finish? Madonna, madonna – poor us, poor us!” Later in the day we were directed to a farm which was said to contain an Englishwoman. We said to her at the door, “Abbiamo sentito in questa casa abita una donna qui parla Englesi.” She answered in peasant’s dialect, and then said, “Careful, kids, don’t look now but there are twelve Germans on my left by the river. This is the last zone of operations before they take up their new line. Don’t look, but walk slowly up the hill – go now or they will see you.”
“Appalling state of windiness these people are in,” we said as we left, “why, we have hardly seen a German all day.” As we turned a corner of the track Archie suddenly whispered “Stop”. There ten yards in front were two Germans on horses. We turned abruptly round and slouched down the hill, not knowing if they had seen us, only to hear footsteps quite close behind, so we dodged behind a hedge and lay flat. Two infantrymen passed within a few yards. We lay there for half an hour and made across an exposed hill towards some cover beyond. As we were right in the middle of the open patch there was a great deal of shouting behind, and three Itis were running after us and yelling at us to stop. “Bloody fools, idiots, they’ll give the whole show away, don’t they realise there are Germans about!” We dived into some rushes and lay flat as the first one came running up.
“Kamarad, Kamarad!” He embraced us. “Ich bin Deutsch, ich Deutsch.”
“Aspett, aspett!” shouted the other two as they came crashing over the skyline – “Abbiamo qui un soldato tedesche!“
“I’m an Austrian from Vienna! My father owns a farm. My brother is in London. I must come with you to the English!”
“Yes,” said the Italians, “we must all come with you to the English. They are only two kilometres away. It will only be one night. We know the way. We have a friend who knows the way.”
Archie was superb. He told the deserter we would have nothing to do with him. He must leave at once. He was a fool and an idiot. Didn’t he know there were Germans about?
“Yes,” said the German, “I know where are the Germans. I will show you where they are.”
We quite decided to have nothing to do with them, and then we thought we might question them more closely. They seemed genuine enough. The Austrian said he knew all the dispositions. The long wooded ridge above us was the German front line. On it we would find only 50 men armed with nothing larger than LMGs; they would be scattered in twos and threes on the tracks through the woods. Beyond that we would find no Germans. We would walk two hours to the river Biferno and we would be within our own lines. The Italians said at their uncle’s house there was a man who knew the country intimately who would guide us across. We pondered – yes, it was worth risking perhaps; we would at any rate talk to the guide.
During our May recce, having spent hours driving and walking along the banks of the river Trigno (marking the Abruzzo boundary in map 4), Rupert, Rodolfo and I decided that they crossed the river just north of Trivento (see the blue line below). We think the “long wooded ridge” referred to above was the ridge between Monte Andrea and the hamlet of Codacchi, which is clearly visible from the river below. Carol describes the ridge as being the German front line. In fact, during that period, the Germans were in the process of withdrawing from the Biferno River (running along the SS647 south from Guadialfera) to the heights northwest of the Trigno, direction Castiglione. This would explain why he was surprised to encounter only fifty Germans in the wood—possibly a rear guard left behind during the retreat.
Meanwhile Carol and Archie are still at the Trigno:
The German would stay with us in the rushes and one of the Italians would go to his uncle’s house and fetch his friend. We would wait one hour. Three hours after darkness fell there was a faint shout from below. “Oyee ea ’” shouted back our Italian. Then followed a conversation in shouts about guides and uncles, deserters and Englishmen. The situation was past our control. We all trailed down to the faint voice below, which increased in volume as we decreased the distance. When the unknown voice was reached it suddenly broke into a whisper: “Tacete!” it said, “Ssh, quiet, Germans are everywhere, don’t say a word, it is impossible for you to move tonight! Tacete!“
It was too much – the German, Archie and I burst out laughing and left. We would not commit ourselves; we would follow the German for a short while and then he must go on by himself. Soon he began to swing to the right, he was corrected, and it happened again.
“Now it is better for you to continue alone – we will wait until the moon rises.”
He embraced us again, thanked us a million times for the note of identification we had scrawled for him with a match head, and disappeared into the darkness.
“Whew! Well now we start all over again,” we thought.
It was a particularly dark night, and having stumbled upon a farm we invited ourselves to dinner – eggs, wine and macaroni, and an old man who offered to take us by an unknown track through the woods to the top of the wooded ridge.
“Pauvre ragazzi, pauvre ragazzi,” murmured the old woman who stoked the fire.
“Ah, what ugly times, what evil days – no shoes, no food, nothing. Scarpe Mussolini!” She pointed to the bits of old motor tyre tied round her feet. “Mussolini shoes! Bad, wicked Fascisti – brutto. When will all this misery end?”
“If we get back,” we answered, “we will send you some shoes and soap and wool.”
“Poor boys, poor boys.”
The old man led us well and we passed swiftly through the trees. Over the top was a clearing and here he told us that we must walk towards the guns we saw firing, for they were ours. We gave him our tobacco and bade him goodnight.
Using Rodolfo’s maps of the ancient tratturi (sheep droves) and mule tracks and by comparing post-war and modern maps we were able to identify the track through the forest that they are likely to have taken. Some roads today were of course tracks at that time. In October a family party of 15 of us made the 22 km walk from one river to the next, in parallel with the blue line, again “proving it out”.
It was a soft moonlight night and we walked well. We avoided certain bridges and villages we had been warned about, and at three in the morning we waded across our 30th and last river – the Biferno. Once on the other side we sat down under poplar trees and ate some bread. Ten miles further on was the Termoli–Campobasso road which we decided to cross, if possible, before daylight.
Using the information above, and given the lay of the land, we decided that they crossed the river Biferno south of Guardialfiera; today it is the neck of a reservoir (see blue line on map 4, and compare their route to Williams et al three days previously).
At a farm on the hillside stood three men talking. It was odd that they should be doing so at four o’clock in the morning. Perhaps it was a German outpost. We stalked up close enough to overhear their conversation – they were Iti’s all right. They said we were within our own lines. One of them said he would lead us to a gun. He was a little man in a long cloak and a billycock hat on his head. Halfway up the track he stopped. He hopped twice into the air and said:
“Libero! Libero! You are free, free! No more Germans, tedeschi finito, have no more fear!” Then he did a little dance lasting for a few seconds, pointed to our gun and disappeared.
It was a good long climb and then we saw the back of a camouflaged truck. A voice said “Alt!” Our hearts sank. Then:
“’Oo goes there?”
“Friends,” we quavered, feeling we looked anything but it.
“Advance one and be recognised.”
The familiar, homely, north-country tones were now unmistakeable. I stepped forward and said in a kind of nonchalant tone, “Escaped prisoners of war.”
We were given cigarettes, and as the officer was still asleep we walked on to Brigade HQ. Even though it was still only five o’clock in the morning we expected some sort of reception committee. Instead, we were arrested. Everyone, including the duty officer appeared to be asleep. We hung about on a railway siding until a kind soldier took pity on us and gave us a bed till daylight in a railway truck. Then we had an immense breakfast in the officers’ mess.
Crossing the line – Eighty-two years later – October 2025
Having completed the Trigno to Biferno section we steeled ourselves as a family group to “cross the line” along Carol and Archie’s path. Meeting first at Guardialfiera near the Biferno River, we crossed the new bridge and parked on the southern side. Soon, fifteen of us were strolling along a path about 200 metres from the riverbank, admiring trees and shrubs laden with crab-apples, rosehips, and sloes, their tan and ruby fruit and autumn foliage catching the morning light. It was the 5th of October, only a little earlier in seasonal terms, than when Carol and Archie had made their attempt to cross the line. We felt confident we had replicated their weather as well as possible, having endured both depressing rain and rewarding warmth over the previous seventy-two hours.
We had debated a two-team race to the finish along alternative routes to potential gun positions. In the end, we settled on conviction rather than competition – following the most direct path up the hill, along a track meeting the Casacalenda road just below a small homestead. Beneath it lay a flat, grassy platform – essential for the run-back of a 25-pounder field gun.
Surely this must be the spot where he met the gunner? Rupert, Rodolfo, and I had studied this possibility exhaustively back in May, having stumbled upon it while driving down an old track. We stopped at a charming cottage nestled under an oak tree, got out and looked around. Pots of dahlias and late-season blooms echoed the low roof of curved terracotta tiles. We liked the site because this high promontory jutted deep into the valley, about 200 metres below the ridge line and sheltered by oaks. My Royal Artillery friend Paddy had told me that a gunner was safest below the ridge line – harder to spot yet still able to see the fall of shot.
Could we ask someone? There was no sign of life, no one to whom we might pose our usual no-hope question: “Did your family live here during the war?” Rodolfo assured us that the present owners returned most weekends “if only to water the plants,” but not this Sunday. Still, we trusted our calculations, based on Carol’s diary and letters sent home from the troopship less than a week after the event:
“At three in the morning we waded across our 30th and last river,” and later they reached a town when “it was still only five o’clock in the morning,” where they were allowed a short kip in a wagon by the railway siding.
If we were to prove this path, the youngest and fittest amongst us would have to yomp from river to railway station in under two hours. There was only one possible line within reach –the Termoli to Campobasso railway. But which station had it been? Previously, in long hours of detective work, we had chosen the climb to Casacalenda as our target path. Only three railway stations could be reached from the river within two hours: Casacalenda, Ripalimosani, and Campobasso itself. The latter two were in the Canadian sector. My father liked Canadians, and had there been one present when he was “arrested,” he would surely have mentioned it. Instead, he recalled being challenged by “a gunner with a northern accent” –“‘Alt! Who goes there? Advance one and be recognised.’” The plain, matter-of-fact tone suggested a Lancastrian or Yorkshireman – both accents found among the units that held this eastern edge of the escarpment.
Our research was hampered by the fact that most stations on the line had closed in recent decades. Only the surgical use of ChatGPT yielded a 1940s station list from the depths of the web, allowing us to trace the line on Google Earth, station by vanished station. Mapping software then enabled us to identify the three stations within ten kilometres of the river. Our chosen route covered roughly nine kilometres and a 370-metre climb. Casacalenda could indeed be reached in less than two hours. It had to be Casacalenda.
We walked up from the river to the site which we had identified as suitable for a gun emplacement, “a good long climb” as described by Carol, and then stood together on the grassy platform, imagining a field gun under camouflaged canvas, just as Carol described it, and the challenge ringing out in those north-country vowels. Across the eight kilometres to the Abruzzi hills and the Trigno River beyond, we could picture the German line – today peaceful in the clear autumn sun.
Surely this must be the place. We could never be certain, but our process of elimination had left only two options – this spot and Monte Cece a mile to the east. Though that other track looked clearer on modern maps, we saw no reason the escapers would have crossed the river there, taking them still further east, meaning a longer march.
Toby, George, and Adam – a formidable trio including two grandsons of Sir Carol –
reached the bar in Casacalenda in one hour forty-five, with the rest not far behind. Then to the railway: Casacalenda station now lies in a curious limbo, suspended between life and dereliction after a landslip closed the line. The station still stands, rails rusting in the sun, but no trains ever come. And yet it is two hours from the river.
We had completed our final detective hunt. Twelve years after following the escapers into the Apennines near Fontanellato we had followed Carol and Archie in “crossing the line”.
We got a lift down to 8th Army HQ and met many friends. It was hard to change quite suddenly from a gypsy to an officer, and the transformation was only half complete after we had bathed and changed. The first night Archie slept in Monty’s caravan. I found him the next morning lying back in what had been General Meade’s bed, with the plan of campaign on his knees, sipping early morning tea – the change was almost complete.
Bibliography of selected PG 49 escapees
All of the following escaped to the south along a similar line to Mather & Hubbard, rather than towards Switzerland or to joining partisans in the hills. In my research I have only identified eight groups that made it across the lines from PG 49 before Christmas 1943. I would be very interested to hear of others who walked this southern route.
Crossed the lines by Christmas (southern route only)
Williams, Jobson, Pryke & Shaw: crossed the lines on 14th October 1943 near Casacalenda. A Long Walk Back – editor Peter Williams – diaries of Hugh Jobson and Ted Pryke: George (Toots) Williams (DCLI – Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry) with fellow escapers Hugh Jobson and Ted Pryke (also both DCLI). They were joined later on their walk by Ian Shaw (Green Howards). https://archives.msmtrust.org.uk/a-long-walk-back/
Lieutenant-Colonel Hugh. S K. Mainwaring: crossed the lines on 13th October 1943. His group was formed by three officers: Mainwaring, Lieutenant Lascaris (Greek), and Lieutenant Blanchard (Belgian). He wrote an account of his wartime experiences in: “Three score years and ten with never a dull moment” https://www.alleatiinitalia.it/en/stories-eng/hugh-mainwaring-2/
David Carol Mather (Welsh Guards / SAS / 8th Army liaison) and Archie Hubbard: crossed the line at Casacalenda on 17th October 1943. Archie died tragically young, aged 51, in 1968; for this reason my father was never able to regain contact with him when he started researching his book. https://www.staybehinds.com/archibald-douglas-hubbard
Michael Gilbert: and Tony Davies escaped together and were later joined by Toby Graham who persuaded them to head south, sticking to the mountains, crossing Allied lines on 31st October 1943. After peaking Mount Cimone, now a ski resort south of Modena, by the end of October 1943, they were joined by a South African called Hans Becker, all making it to the front line. Becker was shot dead attempting to cross the valley that formed the line, while Davies was wounded and re-captured, Gilbert and Graham made it to safety. On 31 October 1943 they met a Canadian armoured car patrol in the village of Lucito near Campobasso. Tony Davies published his own account, mostly written in the late 1940s, of the journey down the Apennines, When the Moon Rises: An Escape Through Wartime Italy, in 1973. More on Gilbert: https://authorscalendar.info/mgilbert.htmGilbert and his son Gerald Gilbert’s article: https://www.independent.co.uk/travel/europe/the-apennines-war-and-peace-and-a-wild-mountain-walk-10510795.html
Richard Carver (Royal Engineers): https://www.alleatiinitalia.it/en/stories-eng/richard-carver-2/ Richard (Dick) Carver was Montgomery’s stepson. He travelled south with Lieutenant Colonel “Tony” Macdonnell reaching Allied lines at Atessa on 26th November 1943. Tom Carver wrote a book about his father Richard (“Where the hell have you been?”) https://msmtrust.org.uk/tom-carver-book-where-the-hell-site/
Maurice Goddard & Erik Hampson (28th Field Regiment RA):setting off initially with George Drayson and George Mathieson (later a two-person team), and Captains Armstrong & Forster and Liet Bill Reid (later a three-man team) they travelled south through the Apennines and through the Gran Sasso and Maiella mountains before successfully reaching Allied lines on 1st December 1943 in the upper Sangro valley at Villetta Barrea. https://archives.msmtrust.org.uk/pow-index/goddard-maurice/
George Drayson (Captain, Essex Yeomanry) & George Mathieson (Lieutenant, Royal Engineers): as per note on Goddard & Hampson above, leaving the camp on 9th October they crossed the Via Emilia together and started the climb into the hills. Feeling very exposed in their battledress (later dyed) they drew lots using grass straws and split into two groups of two and one group of three. After splitting up, they made for Bardi province, arriving there on the 12th. There they lived on a farm for a month where Matheson recalled that they lived with excellent people and were eating very well. Matheson was 5 foot 9 inches tall and physically fit, a very strong swimmer, while Drayson was also very fit and a great walker, having lived in the Dales. By the 15th November they had crossed the Pescara river , climbing into the Maiella hills and they witnessed the battle along the Sangro below them on the 17th. By the 18th of November they were living in a cave near Palombaro, where they were stuck for most of two weeks. On the 27th of November they saw the US flag flying over Casoli. On the 28th the weather changed for the better with “grand dry air” Mathieson recalled. On the 29th they reached Cantini and on the 2nd December 1943 they crossed into Allied lines at Archi, after circumnavigating the Maiella hills on the northeastern side. Noting that George Drayson was the grandfather of Mark Dingle and George Mathieson was father of Bridget Ryan.
Ian English (Durham Light Infantry): leaving Fontanellato town on September 12th 1943, he travelled approximately 400 miles south, crossing the lines near Casoli south of the River Sangro on 23rd December 1943. Ian was accompanied by Scotty White, Jack Moore and Jimmy James, until the latter – a doctor – was recaptured helping a gravely ill British soldier. https://archives.msmtrust.org.uk/pow-index/english-ian-the-greatest-escape/
Crossing the lines – Spring 1944
Ronald Mann (Royal Artillery): https://www.alleatiinitalia.it/en/stories-eng/ronald-mann-2/ He wintered near GranSasso (Frascata). Then climbed the Maiella, meeting the South Africans including Uys Krige and comrades on the Freedom Trail where they came down to Palombaro and finally met the advancing Allies. https://www.mykindofitaly.com/post/walks-in-the-maiella-part-5-san-martino-freedom-trail He is believed to have crossed through Allied lines in May 1944
John Lindsay Alexander (Royal Engineers): Escaped south but wintered in the mountains to northwest of Cassino (Norma), rejoined allies in May 1944 after breakout from Anzio https://www.alleatiinitalia.it/en/stories-eng/john-lindsay-alexander-2/
Recaptured
Anthony Simkins (Rifle Brigade): https://archives.msmtrust.org.uk/pow-index/simkins-anthony/ Simkins left as part of a group of four, initially aiming west towards the Ligurian coast. He then set off south with Captain Philip Morris-Keating, also of the Rifle Brigade. After passing through Lombardy, Liguria and Tuscany, they went through Perugia, in Umbria, and the outskirts of L’Aquila. Near Roccaraso, south of Sulmona, they were recaptured.
Eric Newby: https://msmtrust.org.uk/2025/06/24/love-and-war-in-the-apennines/. Recaptured close to Florence 29th December 2043
Jack Clarke (Royal Army Ordnance): https://www.alleatiinitalia.it/en/stories-eng/william-john-frank-jack-clarke-2/ On 19 November, while they were approaching the frontline near the river Sangro, Jack and his two companions were intercepted and captured by a German patrol.
Chieti escapees
Gerald Hough’s book about his father Anthony (“Desert Raids with the SAS”) https://www.pen-and-sword.co.uk/Desert-Raids-with-the-SAS-Paperback/p/50709 Gerald was with Carol in Chieti Before the latter’s move to PG49. He crossed the line on 28th December 1943.
Other reading
Dan Billany: https://www.danbillany.com/books-by-dan-billany/the-cage
Malcolm Tudor: Beyond the Wire (2009): Out of print