In early March, with excavation in Tunnel “Harry” at full throttle, a number of factors played into and out of the escape committee’s hands. With fewer daylight hours, Group Captain H.M. Massey convinced the camp Kommandant to ease the outdoor nighttime curfew; kriegies were allowed to walk between barracks huts until 10 p.m. (which simply meant more penguins could transport more sand later each night to the theatre disposal site).
Still, the sand-dispersal crew had to ensure spillage in the snow during the night didn’t reveal a telltale trail the next day. There were also moonlit nights during which production ceased.
RCAF navigator George Sweanor served as a security stooge throughout this nerve-racking period. Born and trained in Canada, Sweanor had arrived in the U.K. halfway through 1942 and was posted to Bomber Command with RCAF 419 Squadron.
He met Joan Saunders. They fell in love and were married Jan. 6, 1943. Just over two months later, his Halifax bomber was shot down and he was processed to Stalag Luft III. He soon joined X Organization’s growing security staff on nighttime duty.
“Penguins could now carry full bags of sand concealed by darkness,” Sweanor wrote, “(but) darkness also concealed (anti-tunnelling) ferrets, so we stooges had to be even more alert. At the gate, I had to watch for the slightest sign that guards were about to rush in for a surprise search.
“We (had) a 20-second drill for sealing ‘Harry’ with diggers still down there; this would suffice for casual inspections. But for appells we had a lengthier drill with numerous ruses for delaying the Germans so we could empty the tunnel before sealing it.”
During one of Rubberneck’s late February snap security checks, Sweanor found himself carrying a metal file and escape map. Out on the appell grounds and standing in snow, Sweanor chanced dumping the incriminating evidence into the snow to be retrieved later. When Rubberneck and fellow ferrets descended on Hut 110, about that time, they discovered a secret wall panel. “Rubberneck eagerly snatched a piece of paper it held,” Sweanor said. “It read, ‘Sorry, Rubberneck, you are too late.’”