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Auction: 20001 - Orders, Decorations and Medals - conducted behind closed doors
Lot: 735

The outstanding Great War Fighter Pilot's escaper’s M.C. group of eight awarded to Group Captain T. B. Bruce, Royal Air Force, late Royal Flying Corps, who wrote the celebrated autobiography Missing, dubbed ‘one of the greatest stories of the War'; it recalled his thirteen weeks masquerading as a peasant in Belgium and his subsequent times avoiding being handed over from neutral Holland to Germany - which would most likely have ended in him being shot as a spy, having previously despatched an enemy sentry on crossing the border

Military Cross, G.V.R., privately engraved 'Capt Talbot B. Bruce Royal Flying Corps 16-12-19'; British War and Victory Medals (2. Lieut. T. B. Bruce. R.F.C.); General Service 1918-62, 1 clasp, Kurdistan (F/O. T. B. Bruce. R.A.F.); Defence and War Medals 1939-45; Africa General Service 1902-56, 1 clasp, Kenya (E.857 I/P. (R) M.C. Talbot-Bruce.); Iraq, Kingdom, Active Service Medal, no clasp, very fine (8)

Provenance:
Christie’s, July 1985.

M.C. Edinburgh Gazette 19 December 1919:

'His Majesty the King has been pleased to approve of the undermentioned rewards being conferred on Officers and other ranks of the Royal Air Force in recognition of gallantry in escaping from captivity whilst Prisoners of War.'

The confidential letter of recommendation from the Officer Commanding No. 3 Squadron, 13th Wing, R.F.C., written 'in the field' on 23 February 1918, adds considerably more detail, in particular the fact that 2nd Lieutenant T. B. Bruce, was never actually taken prisoner by the enemy and therefore never escaped from captivity:

'This Officer was missing from this squadron during a C.O.P. on November 6th. 1917. He has since arrived safely in England. He, like the rest of his formation, got scattered and lost his way in a severe Line squall that sprang up, eventually landing on the other side of the lines. He immediately burnt his machine successfully and hid.

After three months heavy exposure, this Officer managed to work his way, bit by bit, to the Dutch Frontier, and thence eventually to England. He was never taken prisoner. Before the above mentioned date, I had already noted him down for promotion in the near future. Owing to the extraordinary circumstances of the case, and this Officer's very gallant conduct, and also owing to the fact that I was his last Commanding Officer, I beg to forward a strong recommendation that this Officer be promoted to Flight Commander.

He was senior Officer of his Flight at the time of the occurrence, and had on one or two occasions ably run the Flight in the absence of the Flight Commander. He joined the Squadron on 30th. March 1917, and whilst with it (both on Moranes and Sopwith Camels) rendered most excellent service throughout.'

Although the signature to the above recommendation is feint, it is interesting to note that the Officer Commanding No. 3 Squadron, R.F.C., from September 1917-April 1918, was Major Richard 'Dick' Raymond-Barker, M.C.; a decorated flying 'Ace' credited with 6 aerial victories, he became Manfred von Richthofen's penultimate victim over Beaumont-Hamel on 20 April 1918, at just 23 years of age (The Aerodrome, refers). Raymond-Barker’s Medals sold in these rooms in 2019.

Talbot Baines Bruce was born on 20 August 1897 at Adelaide, South Australia, the son of Mrs Theodore Bruce of Dalewood Cottage, Mickleham, near Dorking, Surrey. Educated at St. Peters College, South Australia, followed by Tonbridge School, he was commissioned Temporary 2nd Lieutenant, Royal Flying Corps, from the Tonbridge School O.T.C. on 8 July 1916 (London Gazette 12 July 1916, refers). His service papers note references from Mr. C. Lowry, Headmaster of Tonbridge School, and Sir George Le Hunt, late Governor of South Australia.

'Unconscious 12 hours'

Posted to No. 16 (Reserve) Squadron, R.F.C., Bruce had a lucky early escape when he was involved in a serious flying accident at Beaulieu. On 10 October 1916, whilst flying in a BE2c two-seat trainer, he got into a spin and the aircraft nose-dived from 200ft into the ground; the next six weeks were spent in hospital recovering from cerebral concussion (The Proceedings of a Medical Board, refers).

Transferred to No. 3 Squadron, Bruce served in France from 30 March 1917. He joined a squadron which numbered nine flying aces among its ranks (The Aerodrome, refers), and was in the process of transitioning from Morane Parasols - in which fellow No. 3 Squadron pilot and author Cecil Lewis described fighting above the Somme Battlefield of 1916 in Sagittarius Rising - to the new Sopwith Camel. As such, he had missed the 'Fokker Scourge' of August 1915-spring 1916, but arrived at a time when the enemy were preparing to combine Jastas 4, 6, 10 and 11, into what later became known as Jagdgeschwader I, more commonly known as 'The Flying Circus' under Baron Manfred von Richthofen.

Flying from Lechelle aerodrome, the War Diary entry for 28 September 1917 notes that 'Lt. McGregor and Lt. Bruce both made their debuts on our only Sopwith quite successfully', most likely over the Ypres front line. Bruce had a more interesting time of it a month or so later on 31 October 1917 when on a patrol from Warloy-Baillon Aerodrome in the Somme Department:

'C' Flight did a C.O.P. in the afternoon, during which Lt. Bruce, who had got separated from his patrol, chased an enemy two-seater east of St. Quentin, without result' (The War Diary, refers).

Black Day

The morning of 6 November 1917 loomed large and bleak, much like the three days previously. As the Canadians renewed their attack on the ruins of the village of Passchendaele, heavy mist and incessant drizzle continued to hamper air operations. Unable to follow a definite course, those pilots who did take to the skies found the weather conditions extremely disconcerting and had difficulty in plotting their positions, let alone strafe their allotted ground targets with any sort of accuracy. As a result, disorientated and vulnerable, it wasn't long before machines failed to return to Allied bases; that morning, three aircraft from No. 65 Squadron were 'jumped' by aircraft of Jasta Boelcke and their pilots taken prisoner.

With the summons of his Batman feeling unnecessarily early and when it was still dark, Bruce let out a curse and got up:

'It was raining hard when I walked down to the tarmac and there found three other unfortunates, all very grumpy at that hour' (Missing, refers).

At 7.45am, Lieutenant Bruce and three other pilots of No. 3 Squadron departed Warloy Aerodrome on a close offensive patrol over enemy lines at 13,000 feet. During the absence of the flight, a line squall suddenly came up and the four single-seat Sopwith Camels were blown eastwards and found themselves well behind enemy lines. Flying in diamond formation above a 'vast white field which completely blotted out the earth,' the airmen became disorientated and were forced to land in the neighbourhood of Havelange, Belgium, some '120 miles the wrong side' of the enemy front line (The Scotsman, 27 October 1930, refers). In his debrief conducted at GHQ, Home Forces on 7 February 1918, Bruce did not mince his words:

'I do not know why, but Wilmott was flying due east, straight into the sun, in fact straight towards Germany. We had the wind behind us and after about 20 minutes I got frightened, and thought he had lost himself, and so I went up to the front (as Deputy Leader) and waggled my wings - which is what we do when we want to attract attention, and turned off west. Either he didn't see me, or he didn't wish to follow, anyhow he didn't alter his direction so of course I had to join the patrol and go on.'

At 9.45am, inquiries with local civilians indicated the precarious nature of their position; the low-flying rooftop antics in search of a suitable landing place had alerted the Germans as to their presence, and the assembling crowd of 30 Belgians were keen to see the airmen upon their way.

It was at this moment that Bruce's luck ran out on trying to start the engine of his aircraft, Sopwith B6392:

'I chose two, the most intelligent looking [men] of the group, and showed them how a propeller should be swung. They were eager to help, and turned to with a will - I never saw two men swing a propeller as those two Belgians did, - and if sheer physical effort could have started a Clerget engine, mine would have done its duty' (Missing, refers).

It soon became clear that further endeavours would be useless and would only betray those trying to help him to the inevitable German patrols heading their way; Bruce had no choice but to wave off his comrades, Captain Wilmott, Lieutenant Taylor and Lieutenant Cribb, and set about destroying his aircraft by dropping a match into the fuel tank. The petrol burned quietly at first, but in time the flames mounted, licking round the engine and cockpit - a warning sign perhaps, that the sooner he got away, the better!

The other three flew on for a further 100 miles but they too ran out of luck, becoming disorientated and lost in the increasingly poor weather. As they ran out of petrol and were forced to land at Rheims to become P.O.W.'s at Heidelberg, Bruce set about exchanging his leather flying-coat, thick boots and helmet for peasant clothing and mingling with the Belgian crowd as the Germans came over to investigate his burning Sopwith Camel.

On the Run!

To fully appreciate the adventures experienced by Bruce in Belgium and Germany over the following thirteen weeks, it seems appropriate to consult a large article in the Leeds Mercury, dated 27 December 1930, which offers a detailed analysis of the autobiography written by Talbot Baines Bruce in the late 1920s which he titled Missing:

'A Thrilling Escape

One of the Greatest Stories of the War

There is one kind of narrative I had in mind in "Missing," by Talbot Baines Bruce, M.C. (Blackwood, 5s.). It is the story of a nineteen-year-old airman who on November 6th, 1917, came down on the German side of the line in Belgium and was unable to get his machine up again. He disguised himself as a Belgian peasant, and after terrifying experiences escaped over the German-Dutch frontier on February 1st, 1918.

At the very last moment, before reaching Holland, he had to kill a German sentry. This has weighed on his mind, together with the severe punishments inflicted by the Germans on the Belgian civilians who helped him. That no doubt is why he is so late in the day in putting this great war experience on record.

When he found that he could not make the aeroplane fly again, he set fire to it. A crowd collected and he asked a youth if he could help him. This youth offered help if the airman would try to get him a decoration. Mr. Bruce promised his best, and in a little while was dressed in a dark blue workman's trousers, Belgian smock, and other old clothes. The boy, Jean, loathed the Germans, and wanted to join the Belgian army. He arranged to take Mr. Bruce to the frontier, and proposed to cross it with him. One difficulty was that Mr. Bruce had no passport. This was necessary for anyone of the age of sixteen and over, and at first all he could do was to pretend that he was under sixteen, an excuse which served at least once.

The pair travelled by train towards the frontier, and the nearer they came to it the greater, of course, were the dangers. German patrols were constantly making searches. It is astounding that Mr. Bruce who does not claim to have spoken more than a very poor French, was able to deceive many people as to his nationality. He suggests that people hearing him speak ungrammatical French would think him a Fleming or a German.
The enemy learnt that he had gone off from the burning aeroplane with a Belgian boy, and posted notices about him. Nevertheless he was rarely denied shelter. Once it was only a night watchman's hut. After a time, Mr. Bruce and Jean decided to part for safety's sake. Unfortunately, the Germans captured the boy, and for helping an Allied officer imprisoned him till the end of the War.

It is thrilling to read how Mr. Bruce sat at café tables with German soldiers who would insist on talking to him, and how again and again he was saved from the patrols only by his own quick wit or that of his Belgian helpers. He was introduced to a man called Gustave, who promised to help him over the Frontier. This friend was a Belgian of most admirable courage and resource. The pair tried random plans and failed, for the Belgian-Dutch frontier was very closely guarded by the Germans, and one obstacle was an electrified fence.

Mr Bruce had bought an automatic pistol, for he thought that in crossing the frontier if he came upon a sentry it was a case of the sentry either shooting or being shot. The two men, horribly frightened, crept on a bitter night through fields and woods and looked on the bright lights of Holland. As they were getting very near to Vaals, Mr. Bruce fell, and the noise brought a German sentry rushing to him with a fixed bayonet and a cry of "Haltt, Haltt!"

It looked like the end. Gustave, who spoke German, explained that they were Germans on their way into Holland to smuggle food for starving relatives. The sentry would have none of it, and whistled for his comrades. Now was the moment for desperate work. Mr. Bruce thus describes how he dealt with the sentry:-

"At this juncture Gustave was standing between him and myself, so, still holding up my left hand, I dropped the right unseen and released the safety catch of the pistol in my pocket. Drawing it out and turning my left side to the sentry to conceal what I did, I kicked Gustave's leg with my knee as a hint to move aside. He took the tip, edged to the left, and sprang at the man's rifle, at the same moment as I shot at the fellow's head. He was only a couple of yards away, but he dodged when Gustave made his spring and I missed. I knew it at once, so stepped up, put the pistol to his chest, and fired once, then gave him two more to make certain. He let out the most dreadful scream I ever heard, dropped his rifle, clasped himself with both hands and fell forward.
There followed a wild scramble across fields in the dark with the Germans shooting madly. Mr. Bruce thought he had lost Gustave. He saw two sentries running straight for him and prepared to fire the last two shots in his automatic. The soldiers were only a few yards away when he heard Gustave's agonised cry, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! Dutch sentries." Mr. Bruce slipped his pistol into his boot, and with almost hysterical relief surrendered to the Dutch. When the fugitives reached Vaals, the whole village was up and excited, having heard the heavy rifle fire.

After that, all was very easy for Mr. Bruce and the Dutch did not intern him. This was a piece of extreme good luck for the Germans would have been within their rights to claim him back for killing the German soldier. They would, of course, have had no mercy on him. Mr. Bruce had gathered information of much military value, and might have feared being shot as a spy' (The Leeds Mercury, refers).

The Reviews

This glowing review was not necessarily surprising, Bruce being related to the family that for 'a hundred years controlled the Leeds Mercury' (The Leeds Mercury, refers), however it generally received warm reviews across the British press and in literary circles:

'It is sufficiently full of thrills to arouse the interest of the most blasé of readers of literature of the war' (The Scotsman, 27 October 1930, refers).

'This book is late in the field, but well deserved a place in the "literature of escape" (The Yorkshire Post, 17 December 1930, refers).

'An unvarnished record of the 13 weeks the author spent in Belgium during the War' (The Sheffield Daily Telegraph, 20 November 1930, refers).

Bruce returned home from Rotterdam to Gravesend on 4 February 1918 and was immediately granted a three month leave of absence to recuperate and provide details to the authorities. Originally reported a P.O.W. in Germany, his superiors were keen to glean information regarding what he had seen behind enemy lines during his time on the run. His debrief by Examiner T. Byard thus offers a fascinating insight as to his life during this period and corroborates the story published by the Leeds Mercury, in particular the meeting with 18 year old 'Jean', who 'was anxious to escape from Belgium and work on munitions in England'. At this time, true facts and hard evidence were hard to come by as evident in the debrief notes:

'When informant eventually reached Holland he was informed by the Belgian Vice-Consul at Maastricht that 20 or 30 people in Havelange had been arrested by the Germans for assisting the British aviators, and that this boy had been court-martialled and shot.'

Thankfully, Missing, written some 12 years later, describes 'Jean' as having been released at the Armistice from Leiberg prison, having served a fraction of his fifteen-year sentence. After being 'ferreted out', it seems that those Belgians who rendered help were later able to write to Bruce, and in turn he was able to present their case to the Belgian Court of Damages and Reparation of War so that they might rebuild their lives.

Military Intelligence

The British were also able to glean considerable detail from Bruce regarding the German strength behind the lines, the railway network, the availability of horses, and the presence of spies:

'------ (censored name) house was raided by German police in plain clothes. He states that a Frenchman in Verviers named ------, over 6 ft. in height, of stout physique, dark brown moustache and long full beard, aged 45-50, is known by the Belgians as a spy in the German service. He frequents the headquarters of the German police in the Rue de Palais.'

They also garnered more details about his companions along the way:

'After about five weeks people began talking about me, they knew I was there [at Bleyberg]. The place is riddled with spies, and it became too dangerous to keep me here, so --------- moved me to Verviers. Here I stayed with a very nice woman called ---------. Her husband, ----------, was serving in the Belgian Army. I went out every day, in fact --------- gave me a very good time, took me to cinematographs, etc.'

A Royal Invitation

Having been made aware of the extraordinary story, Bruce was summoned to Buckingham Palace by the Equerry of H.M. King George V, 'so that he might receive particulars from the Airman's own lips' (Missing, refers). His Majesty took the opportunity to learn details about his adventures which went further than those published by the Leeds Mercury, a case in point being how to get through or past the electrified fence:

'First of all, he determined to avoid the electrified fence that ran along the frontier by swimming down the Meuse at the point where it enters Holland, but the sentries were too clever for him. Once or twice, in fact, the sentries foiled well-set plans. It could be arranged, by the way, at a cost, to have the current shut off for a few minutes at some of the power stations along the fence' (The Evening Telegraph, 2 January 1931, refers).

Financial Concerns in more ways than one…

In consequence of killing the German sentry, the enemy placed a bounty upon the head of Lieutenant Bruce. In response, the Air Ministry ensured that he was never sent back to France again; Bruce was decorated with the M.C. and remained firmly rooted in England until the Armistice. However, despite his favour with the King and high standing at the War Office and Foreign Office, his trials were not completely over, as witnessed when he attempted to withdraw funds from a cashier at Cox's Bank:

"Your name, Sir, please?" said the man behind the grille.

I gave it; he fetched a very large ledger, turned up a page, looked at me dubiously and smiled.

"Second Lieutenant Bruce is missing," he said. "Here it is," pointing to the label pasted in the book…
"Missing since 6th November."

I told him that was correct, but here I was, alive and in urgent need of cash, since the ten pounds given to me by our Consul at Rotterdam was nearly all gone. The cashier shook his head slowly and looked at me. I think, "That game has been tried on us before," passed through his mind (Missing, refers). Tender of signature to compare with records declined, Bruce was forced to go to the Air Ministry and procure a piece of paper to prove he was who he really claimed to be.

Transferred to No. 6 Squadron and thence to No. 8 Squadron, R.A.F., Bruce later witnessed inter-war service with the experimental section of the Royal Aircraft Establishment. Granted a permanent commission as Flight Lieutenant (London Gazette 12 June 1928, refers), he was promoted Squadron Leader (London Gazette 31 March 1936, refers), and later, Group Captain (London Gazette 9 September 1941, refers). He retired in this rank in 1946 and went to live briefly with his wife at 24 Roth Road, Reading. On 13 February 1947 he boarded the Royal Mail Line Almanzora bound from Southampton to Mombasa, Kenya, and served during the Kenya Emergency.

Group Captain Talbot Baines Bruce died on 23 May 1983, his last address recorded as The Beeches, Delgany, County Wicklow, Republic of Ireland; sold with extensive copied research including service record, War Diary entries, Gazette extracts, newspaper article, and an original copy of Missing, the autobiography of the recipient.

Please note: It is believed that approximately 30 R.A.F. airmen and air personnel escaped from German P.O.W. camps during the Great War, however, as confirmed in Missing and his debrief, Lieutenant Bruce was one of a handful of airmen, perhaps the sole airman, who successfully evaded German troops fully aware of his presence, and made it to Holland.


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