This is a true story.
I've told it as it happened, unadorned.
Here, under German occupation,
10,000 men suffered at the hands of the Nazis.
7,000 died.
A MAN ESCAPED
OR
THE WIND BLO WETH WHERE IT LISTETH
I could feel I was being watched.
I didn't dare move.
Nothing broken, but I wasn't a pretty sight.
I cleaned myself up.
The charges against me were so heavy,
and I'd aggravated them so.
Why didn't they shoot me?
In the courtyard, I got used to the idea of dying.
I would have preferred immediate execution.
My neighbor's knocking was of no help.
My courage abandoned me for a moment, and I cried.
I slept so soundly the guards had to wake me up.
Get up!
Instinctively, I pretended to be too weak.
I made enormous efforts just to sit up.
Did that little trick save my life?
They threw me back, and I was alone again.
My cell was less than 3 meters by 2.
It was furnished sparsely:
A wooden frame with a mattress, two blankets.
In a recess by the door, a sanitary pail.
And set in the wall, a stone shelf.
This shelf enabled me to reach the window.
In the courtyard in front of me...
three men, well dressed and clean shaven,
circulated freely.
Be careful. I'll be back.
- Your name? - Fontaine.
I'm Terry.
Can I get messages out?
I know a way.
I knew I had to be wary.
Catch this.
Because a stranger "knew a way"
everything had already changed for me.
Despite the handcuffs,
I managed to wash my face and wounds.
I was soon able to communicate with my neighbor.
A young blacksmith,
he killed a German during a brawl.
He was awaiting the firing squad.
He was 19.
With his string and my handkerchief,
I made a sort of sack.
Give me your letters tomorrow.
To give my family hopes I myself didn't have...
but mainly to warn my leaders that the transmitter I was using
was helping the Germans, who had broken our code.
I decided to run the risk.
And what a risk!
Giving letters to a stranger
was putting myself and my group in great danger.
We could have been seen or taken by surprise.
Do you have a pin?
A pin?
Wait.
He went towards the women's barracks.
A gift from them.
On the paper, written by a woman,
the word "Courage."
There was also the pin.
My neighbor had explained how, but it took a while.
I didn't think it possible.
I stretched my arms and my sore wrists.
I felt a sudden sense of victory.
As a special favor,
the head guard allowed Terry to see his daughter.
I learned this much later.
I had no idea of the risks
he and his daughter were running.
Once back home, she stamped and posted the letters.
Your letters left yesterday. They'll arrive today.
Thank you.
You've done your duty.
That should help you make it.
Look!
Be careful.
So, Lieutenant Fontaine.
Have you accepted your failure?
Let me be frank.
I'd have jumped from the car too.
Now promise me you'll no longer try to escape.
I promise.
What was this game?
He obviously didn't believe me.
As for me, I decided to escape as soon as possible.
Did he expect to see me jumping at my grub?
My first meal in four days.
I spent more and more time at the window.
I studied the courtyard, the walls, and the infirmary.
Unconsciously, I was getting ready.
I knew that executions took place within the prison.
A terrible thought crossed my mind.
He was there.
I spent the day tapping the Battalion Song
which he'd asked to learn.
That was all the help I could give him.
The next day, the head guard came for me.
Jacket.
Towel.
I left the first floor for cell 107 on the top floor.
On my right, no one. An empty cell.
On my left, a neighbor who didn't answer my tapping.
I stared at their faces, to see what they were like.
I also stared at the walls.
Newcomer?
I was downstairs for 15 days...
or 15 years!
You get used to it.
Take it from me.
My name is Hebrard.
No talking!
Mine is Fontaine.
After emptying our pails and washing our faces,
we'd go back to our cells for another 24 hours.
Nothing to do, no news, living in terrifying solitude,
we were a hundred or so awaiting our fate.
I had no doubt about mine.
To escape. To flee.
Luck and idleness gave me my first chance.
I often sat facing my door,
with nothing to do besides staring at it.
It was made of two panels of six oak boards,
set in frames equally thick.
In a crack between two boards
I saw that the wood joining them wasn't oak.
It was another color: Beechwood, or poplar.
There was definitely a way of taking apart this door.
I needed an iron spoon.
Pewter and aluminum were too soft.
I had to wait out several meals.
I made a kind of chisel.
No, the boards weren't attached
by mortise-and-tenon joints in the same oak,
but by strips of soft wood that my tool could pick away at.
I figured I would need 4 or 5 days
to dig through one strip,
by cutting or chipping away the wood.
But each evening at the same time,
I had to get some air.
I couldn't work fast, because of the noise I made
and the constant fear of being caught.
I kept having to sweep under the door
with a piece of straw from my broom.
Fontaine, are you there?
Is that you, Terry?
At last. I missed you.
I'm leaving.
They're letting you go?
They're taking me God knows where.
How did he avoid the guards and get to my cell?
I never knew.
My neighbor downstairs?
Shot two days ago.
Farewell.
Terry's departure,
and the death of that unseen friend,
left me in despair.
I kept on working.
It stopped me from thinking.
I had to open this door.
I had no other plans.
A new inmate, Pastor de Leyris,
took on my trust and my need for friendship.
They arrested me at my pulpit.
I couldn't take anything.
Nothing?
I used to dream of being alone someday with my Bible...
I don't have a Bible, but I have a pencil.
That's plenty.
You have to keep busy... write, try staying sane.
I do.
Three boards would give me room enough.
Facing me, someone kept guard.
It made my job a lot easier.
But my neighbor's silence troubled me.
We can talk. They're all downstairs.
Are you scared?
I knew he was there. I was sure of it.
He scared me so much, I no longer dared touch my door.
I plugged up the holes
with paper I'd soiled on the floor.
He looked at us, distraught.
That evening at the window, Blanchet...
that was his name...
Dollars, Mr. Blanchet? Dollars belonging to you?
No, to a Jewish lady. I'd never seen her before.
She gave them to me the day she was captured.
How did they find out?
A letter in a pile of laundry.
They'll let you go.
No.
What can I do for you?
Nothing.
There must be something.
If you want to help me, stop scratching.
You'll get the whole floor punished.
After three weeks, working as quietly as possible,
I was able to separate, lengthwise, three boards.
But they were still in the frame,
fastened by joints which bent my spoon.
To dislodge them from the frame I needed another spoon.
Only then could I force them hard enough.
The Bible?
I'm lucky.
A miracle!
Since yesterday, everything is different.
Silence! No talking!
I'm lucky too.
I busted the frame, but more than I'd intended.
I was able to put the piece back in place.
Why do it?
To fight.
Fight against the walls, against myself, my door.
Mr. Blanchet, you should fight too.
And hope...
Hope what?
To go home. To be free.
Free?
Someone's waiting for you...
No one.
A friend?
I have no friends.
Fight anyway. Fight for everyone here.
Watching only after yourself...
What do you do, then?
I watch you. And that gives me courage.
If I had courage, I'd kill myself.
I tried.
I made a noose with my shoelace. The nail fell.
So?
I heard someone knocking.
It was me. Why didn't you answer?
Why?
I was afraid that someone
would open or close my door violently.
Fortunately, I handled it myself.
- How are you? - Fine.
His wife denounced him, betrayed him.
Things like that happen...
In life.
How repulsive.
Her life isn't worth much.
He didn't kill her?
Almost.
We thought he'd go crazy.
Now he's another man.
His face no longer knows hatred or suffering.
His name is Orsini.
Talking about me, Father?
I said you are courage incarnate.
After one month's work my door was open.
What took a lot of time was putting it back in place.
Inside, no rounds, no guards.
There was nothing special about roaming the corridor.
But I had a goal.
No food and exercise.
What is it?
It's me. Cell 107.
Impossible.
Hold out.
If I have to, I'll come back tomorrow.
His astonishment made me happy.
That night, I fell asleep less unhappy.
It was you in the corridor. Don't lie.
It was me.
You'll leave. How will you do it?
I have absolutely no idea.
The head guard and the Sergeant slept on the second floor.
The Corporal on the first floor,
near the door to which he had the key.
This door remained locked at night.
I considered every possible alternative,
and even impossible ones.
I made a thousand plans. None was good.
Read and pray.
God will save you.
Only if we give him a hand.
You never pray?
Sometimes.
When things are bad?
That's easy.
Too easy.
It would be too easy if God handled everything.
You're the only one here to think of escaping.
The only one, because it's impossible.
Take me.
You won't make it.
I have to.
The military call it a reconnaissance mission.
Be careful.
If at 10 o'clock, I'm not in the corridor...
At 10 o'clock, I was under the skylight.
I feared the worst.
The plan for leaving the prison and how to dismantle your door.
Read it and tear it up.
Trust me, but I'm not "courage incarnate."
If you can forgive and forget...
I think about it,
but it's as if it happened to someone else.
Trust me. It will work.
Twelve meters of rope strong enough to support a man.
That's what I needed.
The netting of the bedstead
provided me with 40 meters of strong wire.
I made my first piece of rope with the bolster.
I stuffed its horsehair into the mattress.
I folded the cloth in quarters, the borders inside,
to avoid fraying.
I twisted it hard.
Wrapping wire in the opposite direction
let me keep the cloth twisted.
Your door?
I'll try again.
Try, Orsini. Try again.
Tomorrow I'll tell you if we split up or not.
What's wrong?
Too long, too complicated.
All of it.
It's the only way.
There's another.
Say it.
During our walk, with two ropes and two hooks.
What hooks?
He didn't say.
And the guards doing rounds?
He waits till they pass.
Where?
On the roof.
He climbs up the drainpipe and hides.
In broad daylight, they'll spot him.
His plan is no good.
The next day, I couldn't talk to Orsini.
He was taken in for questioning.
So, the questioning?
They reassure us, threaten us... You know their tactics.
Orsini is happy.
- How is everything? - Fine.
You have to keep calm.
- Are you giving up? - They're freeing me.
- Do you believe them? - Yes.
You're right to.
Orsini!
I was so closely watched for 8 days,
we lost contact.
What was he up to?
I didn't understand.
What's wrong?
Where is Orsini?
God, let him make it.
Will they shoot me?
Be strong, Orsini.
Of course not.
My rope broke at the second wall.
You'll need hooks, Fontaine.
Hooks? How?
With what?
The lantern frame.
Watch out!
Don't blame yourself.
You couldn't have stopped him.
He couldn't wait anymore.
Why? Out of hopelessness?
Too much hope for a new life.
A new life?
Maybe that is what Christ meant.
"Ye must be born again..."
I wrote it down for you.
His words to Nicodemus.
"Nicodemus said:
"'How can a man be born when he is old?
"Can he enter his mother's womb and be born? '
"Jesus said:
"'Marvel not that I said ye must be born again.
"'The wind bloweth where it listeth.
Thou knowest not whence it cometh..."'
Are you listening?
I'm listening.
It's him.
Are you sure?
Sure?
Can we be sure of anything here?
I emptied everything down the drain.
The roof of our building and the outer walls
probably had the same edge.
I had to wait.
I was getting closer.
The slightest mistake could be fatal.
Over there.
I see.
It was risky to cross them on their rounds
and to climb the second wall.
My forces had diminished.
I'll toss a rope between the walls
and monkey climb across.
You'll need two hooks for that.
Three in all. You have them?
I will.
Orsini had to fail so you could succeed.
It's extraordinary.
I'm not teaching you anything.
Yes, you are...
What's extraordinary is that you just said it.
I made the third hook with the two shortest bars.
It was as good as the others, both in form and strength.
With the wire, I made three loops
that I attached to each hook.
My tests showed that the hooks and loops
withstood my pulling.
I just saw three inmates shot for smuggling out letters.
I was asked to tell you
all other smugglers will be shot too.
Everyone must surrender his pencils by dinnertime.
Starting tomorrow, cells will be searched.
Anyone caught with a pencil will be shot on the spot.
Does everyone understand?
Will you give yours up?
I'd better.
No talking!
Pencil?
No pencil.
How stupid...
Just so as not to give in.
The next day, the thought of a search paralyzed me.
Package.
A package.
Would it save me?
Maybe.
What resources...
I had to.
I made braids,
like my mother did with my sisters' hair.
I tore everything but one handkerchief.
I used the string to tie them together.
I would throw this from one wall to the other.
It had to be supple.
The wire wouldn't have worked.
Besides, I didn't have any left.
With Blanchet's blanket, I had enough for the other rope.
We were let out now only in small groups.
The prison was filling up.
Some cells contained two prisoners.
Others appeared and disappeared like ghosts.
I saw one in a wedding suit.
Fontaine should go as soon as possible.
His file isn't good.
He's a snitch.
What if it's true?
Fontaine talked too much.
That's not smart.
Not too tough, Father?
I'm in the Pastor's cell.
He's good company.
We have to warn him.
What will be, will be.
You can't control fate.
He can.
So he says.
No one believes you.
You're stalling.
Stalling?
You're thinking too much.
Me?
You really need someone?
I'm waiting for an answer.
Who?
Cell 110.
He hasn't given in. He's got courage.
Your plan... is pure fantasy.
After 3 months, you're weaker.
Stronger.
You adapt, you get used to it.
A kind of grace.
Or a trap.
Can you really go?
I'm ready.
Then don't wait.
You would follow me.
If I had another body.
We'll meet up.
In another life, maybe.
In this life.
Have faith.
Have faith in your hooks and ropes.
And in yourself.
You have doubts.
It's hard to take the plunge.
The case concerning you is officially closed,
Lieutenant Fontaine.
The charges against you of espionage and bombing
are both punishable by death.
Accordingly, you shall be shot.
Were they taking me to the prison?
It was a distressing ride.
Would I have the same cell?
I let out a nervous laugh that relieved me.
A little later on, once again,
I feared my efforts were in vain.
Dressed like a half-French, half-German soldier,
he was disgustingly filthy.
He seemed less than 16.
Are you German?
French?
What's your name?
Jost. Francois Jost.
Was he a stool pigeon?
Did they hope that the death sentence
would make me talk?
Give me your hand, Jost.
There's not much room.
They caught me and said I was a deserter.
You believe me?
Yes.
I believed him,
yet I felt uneasy at the same time.
I did it for France.
Why else would I have joined them?
France is your khakis and leggings.
That's all...
How could I know?
You should have.
Before my sentence ended, I was sent to the railroad.
To stop French passengers from using railway carriages.
What carriages?
The ones reserved for their troops.
That's how I got here three days ago.
Stand at the door.
Ask for an extra mattress.
He got what he asked for. And a blanket too.
Were you both drunk?
We were playing with my gun, shooting into the air.
Not just in the air!
The policeman was French?
Yes.
You saw him fall?
I forget. We just ran.
We shouldn't have.
Fifteen minutes later, we were in jail.
Then they came for me.
Why?
To take me here.
What about you?
It's time to keep quiet.
Drink the rest.
Get some sleep.
His coming just as I was sentenced
troubled me.
I had no time to lose.
I had to choose.
Either I took him along, or I killed him.
My heaviest hook would be a good weapon.
But did I have it in me to kill him in cold blood?
Wash up.
Go now.
Don't wait anymore.
You're not alone?
Watch out, Fontaine.
You don't talk much.
I've forgotten how.
I know why you're here.
Tell me.
Because you blew up a bridge.
I swear...
I'd have liked that kind of stuff.
Stuff?
Jost, blowing up a bridge...
They're guarded.
It can cost you your life.
You can't be a chicken or a coward.
I'm no chicken, and I'm no coward.
No man can serve two masters.
You chose that uniform.
I didn't choose anything.
Does my jacket bother you?
Don't bother. It won't change a thing.
You are what you are.
What am I?
Stay in your filth. Keep your lice.
You must be infested.
Just a few, maybe.
Really?
You had to come.
They're all gone.
What's wrong?
Nothing.
Will I be here for long?
You're asking me?
Very long.
Weeks, months, one year, two years...
Locked up?
Or maybe a day or two.
It depends on the favors you do for them.
What favors?
Watch out, Jost.
The war will end. They'll lose.
They will not.
Yes, they will.
And they'll leave.
They're bad angels.
They'll leave you
in your own country, with no one to defend you.
There will be no pity.
But I'm too young.
No pity for your age.
Think it over.
Think what over?
It's too late now.
Too late?
- You believe in luck? - I did.
It didn't get me anywhere.
Maybe you ruined your chances.
Why did you leave home?
No reason. To do something.
What did your father say?
He didn't care.
And your mother?
She tried following me.
I lost her, then I took the train.
She must love you.
More than she loves my brothers. And my sister.
You have a sister?
She was tiny, but pretty.
My mother was pretty too.
You want to see them again?
Yes, but I don't know how.
What are you writing?
Come see.
That's our pencil. Yours too.
If you need it.
Why do you hide it?
It's forbidden.
If they find it, they'll shoot us.
For a pencil?
We were given our soup
and I still hadn't told him anything.
The night was black.
Tomorrow night would be blacker.
It had to be tomorrow.
Would I have to kill him?
Wake up, Jost.
My last wishes, if I don't make it.
Would you mind?
I promise.
My God.
I wrote what I did, and still have to do, to escape.
Please make it known.
Pray for me, Father.
And you too.
Goodbye.
I'll never have a chance like that.
What if you did?
Like when you go in for questioning?
What would you do?
I'd try to escape.
You think so?
It's easier when you're two.
You help each other.
There are other times when it's possible.
What do you mean?
If you agreed to help me... maybe we could...
Leave here?
You can't mean it.
Have you seen these walls?
And these bars?
Fontaine, use your head.
Are you kidding?
No, I'm not.
Everything is planned and calculated.
From leaving the building to getting past the guard.
Almost everything.
We may come across surprises.
I said "we," because now...
Believe me, I have everything in my favor.
I'm sure of my tools.
Sure of myself, my chances... and yours.
You won't regret it.
I'll take care of you.
I'll help you make the most of your freedom.
This is really impressive.
It's tempting.
Tempting?
But Jost, you no longer have a choice.
You must understand that.
I'm free to say yes or no.
Now that you know everything?
Now that I know everything.
Enough!
And don't try screaming.
Don't make them come.
If you try that and get us caught...
Who do you think I am?
So it's yes?
Yes.
I emptied my mattress into Jost's and cut it,
following my measurements.
In less than two hours,
the rope was ready and the cell was swept.
Will you knock?
I'll knock.
Farewell, my friend.
First the heel,
then the tip.
We made four sacks:
One with our shoes,
another with our jackets,
a third with the long rope and its hook.
The last one with the rope for crossing the guard's path.
The gravel crunched under our feet.
We had to stop.
It took us more than 20 minutes
to reach the edge overlooking the courtyard.
What was the squeaking we kept on hearing?
I couldn't figure it out.
He was armed with a machine gun.
I could make out the grenade on his belt
and the bayonet in its sheath.
I heard the clock strike midnight.
Then one o'clock.
Their movements were identical.
They moved up and down the wall,
rarely reaching the corner,
and never going past it.
On the other side,
I could hide in the corner and wait for the right moment.
For this man had to die.
Your turn.
I put down the hook.
It didn't seem sure enough.
I had to act, but I couldn't.
I needed two hands to stop my heart from pounding.
Was he sitting?
Was he lighting a cigarette?
He'd stopped coming my way.
He was nearby, just a meter away.
He was turning around.
He left our jackets and shoes on the roof,
but I didn't say anything.
Alone, I might have remained there.
All I knew of the lay-out
was that a sentry box stood at each corner.
Were they manned, or weren't they?
They weren't.
He's alone.
Cut the electricity.
Cut it? How?
Hurry.
The hook.
Jost was shaking.
Maybe I was too.
I hesitated.
The clock struck four.
Time was running out.
So were our chances.
If my mother could see me now!