In 1939 I was happily working as a roadman for Argyll County Council on the Isle of Mull when the Second World War broke out.

Being in the Territorial Army I reported to headquarters right away. I went to France early 1940 with the 8th. Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders as a sergeant with the 14th. Platoon.

There was not much doing to begin with night patrols etc. - until the Germans made the Big Push. The British decided to make a strategic withdrawal out of France.

A few companies were left behind to fight a rearguard action and, of course, we were surrounded. After two days we were eventually taken prisoner. They marched us across France day after day with hardly any food, picking up French prisoners along the way. There were hundreds of us.

When we arrived in Germany we were put into cattle trucks and taken to POW camps and turned out to work in salt mines for the most part. I was involved in building an elevator in the factory attached to one of the mines with a chap from Tobermory.

It was always on everyone's mind to escape; especially with me. I knew that my father, living at Bousd at that time, was seriously ill and I wanted to see him. But that was not to be; he passed on before I got back.

My first attempt at escaping was worked out between myself and Callum Campbell from my own platoon. (He was a Connel lad, still living in Oban to this day.)

Callum was working day shift at the salt mine and as the guards were not too particular at counting how many were going out or coming in at stopping time, I told Callum to hide at a certain place in the factory. I would pretend to be going out with the night shift and Coll for him.

However, when I got to where Callum should have been there was another prisoner. (But that is another story) No sign of Callum. So I started off on my own and kept going all night until seven in the morning when I decided to rest in a wood until night time. I was hoping to make for Belgium or France. What a night it was - thunder and lightening and rain.

I was woken, unfortunately, by a squad of woodcutters who took me to a small cottage and handed me over to German guards. I was put into an underground cell. It was not long before Callum arrived and told about the other man hiding in the factory and so, like myself, had decided to have a go on his own. I am sure it was the same workers who picked him up.

It was miserable and cold in the cell. There was a large 6' x 4' tin box on the floor so we took turns resting on top of it but neither of us stuck it for long - the cold was unbearable. We opened the box and to our horror it was packed full of ice blocks!

To warm ourselves we started clapping our hands and stamping our feet until the guard opened the door asking what was wrong. He let us out and told us to march up and down the road but not to escape or he would get shot. A lot of Germans did not want war just like we didn't. We could not escape, him being so considerate.

The punishment for escaping was 28 days solitary confinement and a once daily slice of brown bread and a mug of rotten coffee that made one desperate for the toilet.

One day I was so desperate for the toilet and no one would answer my knocking on the door that I started to kick it with my boots. At last it was opened by a senior guard (sergeant major) shouting and bawling as to what was the matter. I am sure he was shell shocked as his head was nodding and shaking like a marionette. He put me in mind of a hen my mother had when I was a lad and I started to laugh. Which was not a good idea for he started to shout that he was going to shoot me and made a dive for the revolver by his side. He thought better of it, thank goodness. If he had drawn that revolver neither him nor I would have lived to tell the tale.

My next escape along with Sergeant William Roberts from Wales was from Stalag 9C Molsdorf where 450 prisoners were kept.

Bill and I came to the conclusion that the only way to get out was by digging, or should I say burrowing, a tunnel. This we did with the help of 12 South Wales miners. The tunnel was started underneath a corner bunk tier which we all shared.

It took quite a while to burrow to a ditch about 15 yards outside the camp. I do not think any of the other prisoners knew what was going on until we were ready to burst out into freedom. Then we told Sgt. Major Doyle who was in charge and he agreed to the escape and said that he would arrange for lookouts to monitor the German guards who patrolled right round the camp during the hours of darkness. He certainly made a good job of it as 52 of us got away.

The names of those who had dug the tunnel went into a hat and the first name out was that of my mate Roberts so I followed him. We were the first out - and the last to be recaptured.

Twenty minutes after getting out we were aboard a goods train, travelled all night and jumped off next morning when it slowed down for some purpose or other. We travelled a bit on foot until we came across a shed full of bales of hay. We burrowed in at the back and got some rest.

The following night we were on the move. The next morning we laid up in bushes, starting off again at nightfall. We were approaching a small town with a railway station. A goods train came to our aid again as did the R.A.F. The sirens went, the lights went out and I am sure everyone in the vicinity made for the air raid shelters.

We took the opportunity to examine the empty trucks to see if any were marked Lubeck which was our planned destination and then a boat to Sweden. The only marked wagon was for Hamburg. We got into it. After a long time the engine started up and we moved out of the town. The train travelled at full speed for hours and when it came to a stop this was the signal for us to get off.

Bill and I eventually did get to Hamburg and tried to get into the docks for that boat to Sweden. That was the first mistake - we were spotted by a guard and taken in for questioning and of course pushed into jail.

It was at that jail whilst sleeping on a hard bare board that I dreamed of my young brother Allan who was serving with the King's Royal Rifle Corps. By the end of the dream I knew something awful had happened but that it had nothing to do with the sea. Allan was killed on night patrol in Tunis, I subsequently heard.

When Allan was born he was inside an extra cover which they Coll a cowl. It is said that anyone born with that caul will never get drowned.

The following day we were taken to a camp outside Bremen. I think it was mostly Serbs there but of course Bill and I were put into a cell on our own and could not get in touch with anyone.

The next morning we were marched away by a guard across country for hours. The guard himself was exhausted and phoned for a staff car to finish the journey. He gave each of us a bottle of beer and kept saying "Now don't you two run away!"

The destination was a POW camp. Once again we were kept in isolation unable to speak to any of the other prisoners who were marines.

Finally we were returned to Stalag 9C Molsdorf - back to square one! I was still dressed in the navy blue trousers which I had made out of a German blanket. The rest of my escape uniform consisted of a blue jersey and a blue beret. A guard went out and came back with a British battledress. Likely the guards had lot of them for training the dogs.

Now that the last of us had been recaptured we were all charged with burrowing the tunnel and using German bedboards for shuttering and escaping. Stalag 9C was so riddled with tunnels the guards often fell through. Despite the humour of the situation we all got six weeks hard labour in a stone quarry.

Then we were moved on to another camp. I had another two years as a POW to endure and another two goes at escaping of course and hope to write about that in the next issue of The Coll Magazine.

Hugh has recently described some more of his war-time memories in one of three Gaelic programmes, entitled Heroes, on BBC2, February/March, 1992.