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    â€œIt’s a letter of introduction from The Royal Bulgarian Navy. It’s written in German and I’m going to show it to anyone who bothers me, or who I think I can get to help me. It says: ‘Lieutenant Bagerov is engaged in liaison duties of a technical nature which involve him in much travel. Since he speaks very little German, the usual benevolent assistance of all German officials is confidently solicited on his behalf.’ ”
    Wells laughed at the daring plan. He was certainly impressed. But then he looked worried.
    â€œUh-oh,” he said. “Bad news, James. Quite a few of our Navy chaps here have been into Bremen over the last few weeks to visit the hospital. Your Navy uniform might be a bit different, but it’s not different enough. I’m sure someone will recognize it, and have you nabbed.”
    â€œI’ve thought of that too. I’m going to start my escape in another disguise! I’ve got some silk patches to put over my jacket brass buttons, and a cloth cap made from a jacket lining, and a scarf and a pair of old canvas trousers. I’m going to become Christof Lindholm – Danish electrician! I’ve got a pass for that too.”
    â€œCrikey, you’ve been busy!” said Wells. “So what happens when you get to Sweden, or even Britain, and you need to prove who you really are?”
    â€œI’ve got that sorted out too. I’ve sewn my real identity papers into my jacket lining, so I can go back to being me when I need to.”
    â€œWell, best of luck – though with all that lot I don’t think you’ll need it.” said Wells.
    James looked a little ill at ease.
    â€œFrankly, old chap, sitting in front of this lovely fire, with the rain coming down outside, I’m not sure I want to escape at all. But so many people have helped me with this scheme I feel I’ve got to give it a go.”
    And give it a go he did. On the morning of December 8th, 1943, James made his way down to the shower block on the edge of the camp. Amazingly, a window there opened onto the street outside, so all James had to do was change into his Danish electrician outfit, and squeeze out when he was sure no one was coming.
    Walking away in his disguise he could have been any local workman. But trouble loomed almost as soon as he left the camp. He was stopped by a policeman who immediately became suspicious. Inside, James began to panic. All that work and here he was, barely a minute away from the camp, and about to be caught red-handed. The policeman looked in his case. Fortunately it just contained some clothes. James had carefully hidden all Ivan Bagerov’s documents – they were strapped to his leg with adhesive bandages.
    The policeman began to question him in a hostile way. What was he doing? Who was he? Who was he staying with? It was a nightmare moment. James only spoke a few words of German but blurted out that he was staying with the local priest. He did not even know his name, so just referred to him as “Father”.
    The policeman was still suspicious. What did the priest look like? James made a wild guess. He was an old man with grey hair, he said, which fortunately turned out to be true. He stumbled on with more of his story, hoping that the policeman didn’t start to wonder why this supposed Danish workman had such an odd accent.
    The story was not working. The policeman told him to come with him to the police station. But James had another trick up his sleeve – a forged letter from a local hospital, telling him to report there that afternoon. This final detail convinced the policeman that James was the Danish electrician he was pretending to be. The man dismissed him with a curt “Good day” and James hurried off, feeling quite sick and doing his best to stop his legs from trembling as he walked.
    James reached Bremen station without further trouble, and headed at once for the platform