Roger Bushell spent most of his adult life doing three things: practicing law, skiing as fast as possible, and trying to escape from the Germans.
Born in South Africa in 1910, Bushell was sent to school in England at 13, went on to Cambridge, and by his late 20s was a London barrister who spoke nine languages and defended people who couldn’t afford to defend themselves.
He’d joined the RAF Auxiliary along the way, in 1932 — the kind of outfit where wealthy young men paid their way to fly on weekends. Assigned to defend RAF personnel in courts-martial, he was eventually banned from the job for winning too many cases.
Then war came, and Bushell was given command of a fighter squadron. They went into combat for the first time on May 23, 1940, flying Spitfires over the French coast to cover the retreat toward Dunkirk. Bushell damaged two Messerschmitts before being shot down and captured by a German motorcycle patrol.
He would spend the next four years behind wire. He didn’t take it quietly.
His first escape got him to within a few hundred yards of the Swiss border before a border guard caught him. His second was more audacious — he and a Czech officer jumped from a moving train, linked up with the Czech underground in Prague, and stayed hidden for eight months before a Nazi manhunt flushed them out. The Gestapo warned him a third attempt would mean execution, and transferred him to Stalag Luft III: their supposedly inescapable new camp deep in a German pine forest.
Bushell arrived at the camp more determined than ever to wage war from within. He took over the job of running the camp’s clandestine escape committee, with the codename Big X.
“Everyone here is living on borrowed time,” he told his fellow prisoners. “By rights we should all be dead. The only reason God allowed us this extra ration of life is so we can make life hell for the Hun.”
His plan: Build “three bloody deep, bloody long tunnels” out of the camp, on the theory that even if the German guards found one, at least one would eventually be complete.
Six hundred prisoners worked under Bushell’s direction, day and night for more than a year, digging three massive tunnels right under the guards’ noses. Starting from nothing, they scrounged and improvised — repurposing over 4,000 bed boards, hundreds of blankets, and 1,400 powdered milk tins into ventilation shafts and dirt containers. They built an underground railway, forged passports, fabricated civilian clothes and fake German uniforms, all hidden in plain sight beneath their captors’ feet.
Oh, and one detail worth noting: Bushell was claustrophobic. He did it anyway.
On the night of March 24, 1944 — 81 years ago this week — 76 allied prisoners of war crawled out through tunnel Harry and slipped into the darkness.
Only three made it to freedom. The rest were recaptured, and Hitler ordered 50 of them executed as a warning to every prisoner of war in Germany.
Roger Bushell was among those murdered. After the war, the RAF launched a criminal investigation — the only major war crime ever investigated by a single branch of any nation’s military, and in 1947, a tribunal found 18 Nazis guilty. Thirteen were executed.
Clearly there is tragedy here. But the men still in camp later said that the entire effort buoyed their spirits, and that even after learning of their fellow prisoners’ deaths, the act of forcing Germany to divert thousands of soldiers into a massive manhunt felt like a victory — a terrible, costly victory, but a victory nonetheless.
They had struck back, and that mattered, because people need more than survival. We need purpose — things to build, to work toward, and a sense that our efforts add up to something larger than ourselves.
For the ones who didn’t make it — including Bushell himself — there is something to be said for having spent those years not in resignation but in an audacious act of defiance.
Nobody lives forever, but knowing that you lived long enough to give other people hope and purpose can be enough.
7 optimistic moments from history this week
Sunday, March 22: “I think this would be a good time for a beer.” — President Franklin D. Roosevelt, upon signing the Cullen-Harrison Act on this day in 1933, which legalized the sale of beer with up to 3.2% alcohol content, marking the beginning of the end of Prohibition.
Monday, March 23: “I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!” — Patrick Henry, Virginia delegate who on this day in 1775 delivered his legendary speech to the Second Virginia Convention at St. John’s Church in Richmond.
Tuesday, March 24: “If my efforts have led to greater success than usual, this is due, I believe, to the fact that during my wanderings … I have strayed onto paths where the gold was still lying by the wayside.” — Robert Koch, German scientist who on this day in 1882 announced the discovery of tuberculosis bacillus, the bacterium responsible for TB, which at the time killed one in seven people.
Wednesday, March 25: “A common market is far more than an economic union. It is the practical manifestation of a common will to build a joint civilization.” — Paul-Henri Spaak, Belgian Prime Minister on the Treaty of Rome signed on this day in 1957.
Thursday, March 26: “There is no patent. Could you patent the sun?” — Jonas Salk, American virologist who on this day in 1953 announced that he had successfully tested a vaccine against poliomyelitis, responding to journalist Edward R. Murrow’s question about who owned the patent, choosing to maximize the vaccine’s global distribution rather than seek profit.
Friday, March 27: “This definitive treaty of peace put an end to the war.” — Opening language from the Treaty of Amiens, signed on this day in 1802 achieving peace in Europe for 14 months during the Napoleonic Wars. This represented the only period between 1793 and 1814 when Britain and France were not at war.
Saturday, March 28: “Such a power if developed would operate railroads, factories, mines, irrigation pumps, furnish heat and light in such measure that all in all it would be the most unique, the most interesting, and the most remarkable development of both irrigation and power in this age of industrial and scientific miracles.” — Rufus Woods, newspaper publisher who promoted the Grand Coulee Dam, on this day in 1941 when the dam began producing electricity, eventually becoming the largest capacity hydropower station in the United States.