Flight Lt. Alex Cassie (1916-2012)

By Richard K. Barry

Stalag Luft III

I've said before that I have resisted posting obituaries. I'm not sure why the aversion, but since they fascinate me and I'm the one doing the writing, why not?

One of my local newspapers, the Canadian Globe and Mail, used to have a "Lives Lived" section. It was usually about the passing of someone not famous. In fact, it was frequently about someone who would not merit an obituary in the main section of a major newspaper. It was always written by someone who knew the person and it was usually done very well. It was, in essence, about the kind of lives most of us lead.

On the other hand, there are obituaries about people most of us would know. That's fine too. Those things get plenty of coverage, not that there's anything wrong with that.

My interest tends to be somewhere in the middle: the person who, perhaps only fleetingly, had a role, perhaps quite small, in some aspect of our shared history or culture. In any case, it's about people we wouldn't generally consider famous, as subjective as the term "famous" is. It's about the person you might pass on the street or meet at a social gathering, who would be so interesting if you'd only bothered to ask. 

Alex Cassie

Take RAF Flight Lt. Alex Cassie, for example. Cassie was a prisoner of war in the supposedly escape-proof Stalag Luft III in Germany during WWII, beginning in the fall of 1942. An escape attempt from the compound was made famous by the 1963 movie The Great Escape.

Cassie's role in the break-out was to, along with several others, forge all the necessary documents that would be required by the men once they were outside the prison and making their way back to friendly territory.
The New York Times writes:

In their pockets, the escapees carried what looked like officially stamped documents, identification cards, business cards and even letters written in German from purported wives and sweethearts, all of which were intended to make it possible for them to befuddle a hapless guard or police officer stopping them on their way to freedom.

Knowing that he was claustrophobic and not wanting to slow the other men down as they made their way through the escape tunnel, Cassie opted to stay behind. As you may recall from the movie, of the 76 escapees, 73 were soon recaptured, and 50 were executed on orders from Hitler.
Cassie later said:

All five of my hut mates had been shot. Often I've asked myself, "Why didn't I go?" I can't shake off the vague feeling of guilt, that why should I have been the lucky one?

Clearly the risks taken to manufacture the required documentation make him a hero, but I suppose feelings of guilt under the circumstances are understandable.

As to how they made the documents, Cassie told The Sun:

We got the best of the paper from the flyleaves of books which arrived at the camp through the Red Cross. The rest — ink, photography, timetables, etc. — was bribed from the Germans. It was amazing what a few cigarettes could do.

He also said they somehow got hold of a typewriter with a German typeface and used cold tea to age documents. He etched official-looking stamps from boot heels.

No great surprise but Cassie also added that there was no "jaunty, baseball throwing, Steve McQueen-like American leading the breakout." No, that's Hollywood.

After the war, Cassie worked as a psychologist in the British military. He retired in 1976 as a senior principle psychologist. He was elected a Fellow of the Royal Psychological Society.

He died recently at the age of 95 and is survived by a son, a daughter, and four grandchildren to whom he must have had stories to tell.

(Cross-posted at Lippmann's Ghost.)