Wilfred Ponsonby: a conjuror in captivity (Part 3)
The grand-blessés were moved from Rouen, France to camps in Germany and Poland on 19 December 1941.
Wilfred Ponsonby was chosen to head out to Stalag XXI-D, a POW camp in Poznań (German: Posen), in German-occupied Poland. Allied prisoners were held in eighteenth century forts, 30 to 40 men per room in brick-built redoubts, or in houses nearby, in three-tier bunks.
“We arrived at Posen on Christmas Eve 1941 and, we had no Red Cross parcels or anything, so it was a pretty bleak year end.”
Another 'Christmas present' received by Ponsonby came directly from the British Army's headquarters. It was a promotion to major on 19 January 1942, though the news would have taken some time to find its way to him.
As the snow thawed, Ponsonby was contemplating another escape attempt when he was moved again. This time, in March 1942, the Germans sent him back to Oflag IX-A/H at Elbersdorf.
Wire cutting in Elbersdorf
Ponsonby knew the Elbersdorf camp well, having already spent a year there. He needed little time to reconnect with the escape committee, which he’d previously run, and to get another escape off the ground.
He joined a POW called Hamilton in a wire cutting escape in late spring 1942. Hamilton noticed that there was a corner of the grounds, which the German guards seemed to miss on their inspections. It was at a point where the perimeter wire ran close to an exterior wall. Ponsonby joined him and several others in a plan to cut through the wire in the unchecked corner.
The group gathered to play gramophone records for several evenings before their planned escape. This drew occasional visits from the guards, but the parties were soon accepted as legitimate recreation.
Meanwhile, Ponsonby got hold of some bone cutters from the Medical Officer (M.O.) to cut the wire.
“It took us three days to cut the wire. On the final day Hamilton and I had civilian clothes under our battledress and we were going to slip through. I was cutting the last strand on the Saturday night whilst we had a show going [in the camp’s makeshift theatre]. I had the cutters round the last strand of wire when a German came around and started chatting to the party. He didn’t see me because I was crouching and had on a dark anorak, but suddenly he called and blew a whistle and everybody had to go in.”
“I stayed there, and I got through, but they had put down a lot of weed killer and the dead weeds rustled as I moved over it. I now had no stooges to let me know where the sentry was, so I was on my own. I got halfway along and I was only about thirty feet from the exit when the guard heard a noise and put his torch down, spotted me and, of course, the game was up.”
“They came over the wall with their guns pointing at me. I must have looked very peculiar because I had gauze over my face that we got from the M.O., stained with Indian ink. I had on a balaclava as well, just leaving eye holes so I could see. I looked a strange sight.”
“I spent my time trying to figure out a new conjuring trick,” he remembered, demonstrating the mental health benefits of magic to conjurers in capacity. His magical thinking helped pass the time and keep his mind focused on something positive.
“My brain is the key which sets me free.”
- Harry Houdini
Before Ponsonby went into solitary, the guards searched him. This carried with it a risk that they would find his escape money. But, his magic skills came to the fore again:
“I discovered that the tins of paste they used to send us were very slightly smaller in diameter than a tobacco tin and would slide neatly inside. I used to conceal my money between the two tins and despite being caught on my various escape attempts. They never found my money.”
Afterwards, the guards moved Ponsonby up to Oflag IX A/Z's sister camp, Spangenberg Castle, presumably, as it was more secure than the lower camp. In fact, the castle presented almost insuperable physical difficulties for escapers. People attempted escapes with home-made rope and grapnel, but none were successful.
Back to school for a lesson in tunnelling
Ponsonby didn’t stay in Spangenberg Castle for long, as the grande-blessés prisoners were moved, once more, to Oflag IX A/Z. They were lucky. After they left, the German guards - who were known at Elbersdorf / Spangenberg to be quite brutal - carried out reprisals on the remaining prisoners for alleged Allied mistreatment of German POWs in Africa.
Oflag IX-A/Z wasn’t too far from Spangenberg / Elbersdorf, just 10 miles south in a town called Rotenberg an der Fulda. It was a sub-camp of the main camp at Spangenberg / Elbersdorf. A rather small camp, it consisted of a three-storey building with a small courtyard, which had formerly been a girl’s school. The ex-headmaster was the camp commandant!
Oflag IX-A/Z held around 500 British and British Commonwealth prisoners while Ponsonby stayed there. Most of them, like him, were captured at Dunkirk in 1940.
The POWs put on a show or play every week in a makeshift theatre. Ponsonby would regularly contribute to these as the resident magician.
On arriving at the camp, Ponsonby made it known he was interest in escaping and joined a tunnelling team which began a few months before he arrived. Starting in the school’s gym, the team dug out 300 yards of tunnel over the course of a year. They hid the spoil from the tunnel in the school’s attic.
“There would be about six down the tunnel at a time and they would pass the earth back from the front and into boxes [to be carried to the roof later]. It was a lengthy business. There was quite a large space at the bottom of the vertical shaft in order that we could move.… We relied to a large extent on the expertise of the South African mining engineers for the tunnelling and ventilation.”
Tunnel digging was hard work, done in near darkness, with the constant threat of the tunnel roof collapsing.
But, once again, Ponsonby didn’t get to use the tunnel he worked hard to dig. At the end of October 1943, Major Wilfred Ponsonby was repatriated.
London… and back to work
After D-Day came, Hitler started launching V-1 rockets (or 'doodlebugs'), and later V-2 rockets on London. Ponsonby was working at the War Office when the rockets started landing in the capital. One rocket hit a bridge over the River Thames, so pontoon bridges were installed next to the major bridges, allowing people to still cross the river if more bridges were hit. He was an eye witness to an attack which almost destroyed the building at the heart of British democracy:
"I remember I was halfway across the pontoon by Westminster Bridge and one of the V-1s came over and it looked to me as if it was going to come down on the Houses of Parliament [next to Westminster Bridge] but the engine cut out and it came down on St. Thomas' Hospital [which is on the other side of the river from the Houses of Parliament]."
While in London, Ponsonby was elected to The Magic Circle, on 10 April 1945. It is Britain's most prestigious magic society, and he regularly attended their club nights when work commitments allowed.
In 1944, for his services while a prisoner-of-war, Major Wilfred Ponsonby was awarded an Order of the British Empire (O.B.E.). He received the award, personally, from H.M. King George V.I. at Buckingham Palace (having met the King before, in 1940, just before he went over to fight in France).
Later, on 20 December 1945, he was also mentioned in despatches for his intelligence and escape activities while a POW.
Magic takes a front seat
While in London again, Ponsonby went along to The Magic Circle’s weekly club nights. He also went along to the London Society of Magicians. A well-regarded amateur magician, he was sufficiently adept to be selected to appear in the society’s Festival of Magic (1957). Performed at London’s Scala Theatre, the show was televised by the B.B.C.
In retirement, Ponsonby bought an old cinema (after a big win from a bet on the horses). He set it up as a headquarters for his local amateur dramatic society. Rechristening the building as The Playhouse, he ran it as a 200-seat theatre for twenty-odd years. Along with acting, he found every opportunity to perform magic, in his own theatre and elsewhere. He frequently gave shows for military audiences at Catterick Garrison army base, which was a short drive from his home.
He also appeared briefly in a World War One-themed television series called Days of Hope by a celebrated English filmmaker, Ken Loach.
Major General Richard Moberly, a comrade-in-arms who knew Ponsonby well, said he has a “natural charm of manner, is a born showman and an outstanding horseman.”
Ponsonby’s time with the Royal Signals not only enabled him to work with horses in the early years, but gave rein to his unquenchable enthusiasm for invention and technology. A serving officer at the beginning of the communications revolution, he played a part in establishing the modern network after the war.
Perhaps his love of gadgetry and the ‘magic’ they perform were partly responsible for his interest in conjuring. He could have been a professional magician, but never accepted payment for himself for his performances. Of his magic, his publisher said, “he was certainly a consummate artist in one of the most demanding areas of entertainment.”
Brigadier (retired) Wilfred Ponsonby O.B.E., military officer, magician, theatre manager, horseman and much more, died in 1999, aged 93.
Related article: 'The Magician of Stalag Luft III' (Parts 1-3) tells the story of Lieutenant Commander John Casson naval aviator, magician, prisoner-of-war in Stalag Luft III. Blog link
Related article: Verdini: Czech magician escapes Nazi blitzkrieg three times, fights in the Battle of Britain...and joins E.N.S.A., a blog about an Eastern European magician who fought in the Battle of France, evacuated from Dunkirk and then fought in the Battle of Britain, before entertaining Allied troops. Blog link
Related article: 'Hitler's V-Weapons: Magicians and the battle against the V-1 and V-2' gives an account of the impact of Hitler's V-1 and V-2 rockets on magicians, and how some were involved in defeating them. Blog link.
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