World War: Legs by Day

The night the legs arrived everyone had a big time. When the Germans captured Wing Commander Douglas Bader, D.S.O., they had been amazed at the gallantry of this boy, with no legs of his own, whose duralumin pair were crushed when his plane was shot down.

They had (according to last week’s version of the tale) offered the R.A.F. a two-hour local armistice to come over with a spare pair and drop them unmolested on a Netherlands field. The R.A.F. had refused, saying it would drop bombs and the legs at the same time. It did.

The Germans ducked the bombs, picked up the legs, turned them over to Douglas Bader and gave him a gemutlich party. Everyone had a bit to drink. Pilot Bader did wonderful feats on his tin limbs—danced, ran, turned somersaults.

After that Douglas Bader was just another prisoner—until he used his new legs in a new way. One morning his warders found knotted sheets hanging from the window of Douglas Bader’s empty prison room. They found him four days and 100 miles later, walking toward the coast.

Since that time, the Germans have taken Douglas Bader’s agile legs away from him every night and locked them up.