It was mid-April, and tension was running high amongst the 559 German prisoners. After months of clandestine preparations, the date of a planned escape--April 20th, the Fuhrer’s birthday--was drawing near. Compasses had been fashioned from magnetized razor blades and needles; prisoner uniforms had been redesigned as civilian clothes; maps had been drawn, copied and distributed. Tin cans filled with kitchen fat would serve as candles (complete with wicks made from underwear drawstring). They had even blackmailed a guard into handing over a radio, which they hid in a model of the prized German battleship, Bismarck. Camp authorities congratulated the prisoners on their workmanship, unaware that the ship’s gun turrets were knobs for operating the forbidden radio.

The tunnel stretched 45m (150 ft.) outside the camp wall. Side tunnels enabled men to move from barrack to barrack as they covered for tunnel excavators at roll call. Since Angler was situated on sand, digging had been relatively easy. The challenge was to prevent the tunnel from collapsing. Reinforcements were constructed from wood braces that were wrenched from beneath the barracks and painstakingly sawed to size using straightened phonograph springs stretched between two handles.

Every detail was checked and rechecked. Everything was in place... and then it began to rain and rain for three days straight. Tension grew while tunnels filled with water. On the morning of April 18, 1941, the horrified men discovered the excavation was beginning to collapse. By noon, 30 cms (12 inches) of water filled the tunnel. They would have to leave that night after roll call or not at all.

At dark, they lowered themselves into the freezing water of the black tunnel. Crouching in a line, they waited for the men at the front to open the tunnel outside the fence. Every noise made their hearts skip a beat: was that gunfire? They knew if they were caught escaping they would be shot.

Finally, the line began to move. One by one they emerged from the tunnel, scrambled across a gully and stole into the refuge of Superior’s dark forests... then one escapee stumbled over the digging tools left near the tunnel opening. Alerted by the sound, a guard decided to investigate. Moments later, he bounded to the phone. The unthinkable had occurred: an unknown number of German POWs had escaped.

Only 28 of over 80 hopefuls managed to escape. Five were shot (and two later died) as they emerged from a nearby railway shack. Four others managed to board a boxcar on an eastbound freight train. Unfortunately for them, one POW’s cought alerted two RCMP officers were riding in an adjoining car. Most of the remaining escapees were quickly tracked down and returned to the camp.

Prisoners Horst Liebeck and Karl Heinz-Grund were more successful. Arriving at the CPR tracks just as a westbound freight train slowed for a curve, they managed to haul themselves aboard. Leaping from car to car, they searched for an entry point. Finally, one hatch began to yield. After what seemed like hours, it gave way, revealing an unwelcome cargo--a full load of block ice. Military guards stopped the train three times. Afraid they would freeze to death, the men left the car at Kenora, and headed into the woods. They built a fire, changed into civilian clothes, grabbed a much-needed nap and even shaved before boarding another westbound train to Winnipeg where they purchased a newspaper with headlines announcing their escape.

Liebeck and Grund continued west hoping to reach Vancouver and eventually Japan. But their luck ran out in Alberta. A suspicious railway guard in Medicine Hat alerted police, and the two men were captured while walking along the highway. To the Germans utter amazement local citizens treated them like celebrities. Well-fed, they were sent back to the camp, but only after signing autographs for well-wishers who gathered to see them off. Back at Angler Camp, even the Commandant shook their hands, "As a sportsman I congratulate you"--then sentenced them to 28 days in solitary confinement.

At the end of the war, the prisoners were repatriated to Germany. Horst Liebeck never forgot the beauty of the Ontario wilderness or the warmth of the Canadians he met during his brief fling with freedom. Like several hundred other POWs who waited out the war in Canada, he later returned to find employment, raise a family and entertain his grandchildren with harrowing tales of his great escape.

In 1942, Angler became an internment camp for over 700 Japanese-Canadians. 300 were subsequently released to work leaving 425 at the camp. The very rough road leads south to the site from Highway 17. Today, only foundations and scattered items can be found there.