In 1993 a memorial stone to the perished airmen of STI R9261 was unveiled and this text tells in detail about the unveiling ceremony. See also the site in 2010.
Sgt. Donald V. Smith was the sole survivor. The second half of the text is this version of his story from
Michael J.F. Bowyer: The Stirling Bomber p 141-146, first published  in 1980 by Faber and Faber Limited.
See Google Map Don's route and First Airman to Sweden, an extended version by his son Dave Smith.

Helge Christiansen wrote:
On 21 April 1993 a lot of people gathered at Store Kongsmark, a hamlet with 4-5 farms between Kirke Stillinge and the Great Belt to attend the unveiling of a memorial stone at 19:30 at the spot where a British aircraft crashed during World War II 50 years earlier. 7 airmen perished.

The first of the spectators arrived about 18:00, and about 500 people found their way to the spot. From 19:00 to 21:00 the Police Home Guard prohibited through
passage at the beach and in Kirke Stillinge, and cars had to be parked on the right hand side of the road. The place was not suited for so many cars and people.
There was only the road to stand on, as there were crops in the fields. There was a 10 x 10 m area with the memorial stone, a tarmac road with grass at both sides
and a private earth road opposite the memorial stone.
At 19:15 a very big Chinook helicopter arrived with a British crew led by Wing Commander Luker. They landed in a grass field belonging to the Ølandsgården, where
they were welcomed by the chief of Værløse Air Base, Colonel Bundesen, and accompanied to the memorial stone. Behind it were people from all of the associations
for old soldiers with a total of 12 standards. On the left flank were members of the armed forces, 6 men and 1 woman from 7 Squadron of the Royal Air Force and 20
men from the Zealand Life Regiment with Lieutenant Münter in charge. On the right flank there were 14 chairs for the most prominent guests, and other invited guests stood right behind them.

Among the guests were Donald V. Smith and his wife Helen from Canada. He was the sole survivor of the air crash. Also Colonel Østerby, the Chief of the Zealand Life Regiment, and the veteran airmen John Payne and Herbert Graham for England were there. Both of them participated in the bombing raid on Stettin 21-21 April 1943.

Altogether we were nearly 200 people who in various ways had contributed to this ceremony, and a great number had shown up out of personal interests.

Michael Arnaboldi, Kirke Stillinge, had planned all of the ceremony and found the people who would join on the occasion. I had got the idea to erect a memorial stone
and provided the historical information and with support  from the neighbourhood council of Hejninge and Kirke Stillinge I had procured a big stone and carved the inscription.

Vagn Jensen erected the stone with his excavator, and Poul Ørbæk Larsen, the deputy chairman of the neighbourhood council, had written all applications and
invitations.

The ceremony began with music. To the strains from a 2/4 march the Clan Rose Pipe and Drums from Slagelse and chairman Jørgen Overgaard Hansen and Pipe
Major Peter W. Elder, B.E.M., emerged from their hiding place behind the Natural Gas Station and marched to the site of the monument.

Michael Arnaboldi introduced the speakers and led the ceremony.

First he called on chairman of the neighbourhood council Egon Henriksen to speak. He welcomed everyone and particularly Donald Smith who had agreed to unveil
 the memorial stone. Then Smith pulled the red ribbon and unveiled the stone. Now it was possible to see the inscription (translated here)
7 AIRMEN FELL HERE ON 21 APRIL 1943
It was carved in big black letters, 8.5 cm tall.
A brass plaque with this text from Anders Bjørnvad’s book Fallen Allied Airmen is placed below the big letters, also translated here:

”S/Ldr. Wilfred Albert Blake (pilot). RCAF 7 Sqdn.
Sgt. Dennis Charles Farley. RAF 7 Sqdn.
Wt/O Louis John Krulicki. RCAF 7 (RAF) Sqdn.
Sgt. Jack Lees. RAF 7 Sqdn.
Wt/O James Stanley Marshall. RCAF 7 (RAF) Sqdn.
F/Lt. Charles Woodbine Parish (pilot). RAF 7 Sqdn.
P/O Elmer Robert Vance RCAF 7 (RAF) Sqdn.

These airmen were all killed at Kongsmark.
They were buried on 24 April, 1943.

One member of the crew saved himself with
a parachute from low altitude and survived.
Then he walked across Zealand and reached
Elsinore, where he was helped to evade to
Sweden.

Residents of the parish erected this memorial
on 21 April, 1993.”

Then Colonel B. Bundesen spoke in Danish and in English. He praised the initiative shown by all involved in the memorial stone and that The Royal Danish Air Force wanted to commemorate the 7 perished airmen with a fly-past with 4 T17 planes.

After the command ”Attention” Pipe Major Peter Elder went up to the stone and played a lament on his bagpipe, a Scottish tune for mourning, while members of the Slagelse Company 5213 of the Danish Home Guard laid wreaths on behalf on the R.A.F. 7 Squadron Association, the Sjællandske Livregiment, the Association of
Officers of the Reserve in Denmark and the Svinø Parish Council, and bunches of flowers from The British Embassy, The Canadian Embassy, the Association of
Soldiers of the Field Artillery, the Slagelse Marineforening, the neighbourhood council and others.

After the wreathlaying ceremony Michael Arnaboldi called for 2 minutes of silence while arms were presented and the standards were lowered. The 4 planes arrived exactly as promised at 19:45 from the east and flew over the site. (See another fly-past) After an S-turn they disappeared in the red evening sky, a breathtaking sight.
The sound from these aircraft with propellers was recognized by all who remembered the war. Then Kurt Henriksen spoke, and he said that he was watching when the coffins with the perished airmen arrived at Svinø Churchyard 50 years ago, a very emotional sight. He said, ”When this stone has been unveiled here it must be a
memory of a time none of us wants back. When you have forgotten the memorials to victims of the last war and the graves of the last war, you only think of a new war.
Let this stone never be forgotten.”

Charles J. Lofthouse (died in 2002, see obituary) delivered the principal English speech on behalf of the 7 Squadron of the Royal Air Force and the
7 Squadron Association. He himself is a World War II veteran. He was shot down over Berlin, but he had saved his life. He mentioned that they were 4 veterans of 7 Squadron present this evening, one of them being Donald Smith. Then he mentioned the 7 in Svinø Churchyard that we were gathered to commemorate. In addition
to them 17 other airmen of 7 Squadron rest in 7 different churchyards in Denmark - and 737 rest in at least 70 churchyards in Europe. Then there are 238 airmen of 7 Squadron without a known grave. They are commemorated on the Runnymede Memorial in England. Then there are 2000 or 3000 airmen and ground crew who are
still alive and capable of telling the story of RAF Station Oakington from which all of us flew. They can tell about the horrible time that never must come back. He
continued, ”We are here to commemorate Charles Parish and his crew that you honour so beautifully with this memorial stone. I particularly thank Hans Christian
Jensen, the owner of this field, and Helge Christiansen who has been in charge of the work with this stone. I met these 2 men yesterday in the British Embassy.
And there are certainly others who ought to be mentioned in this connection.

Thanks to Flight Engineer Donald Smith who was in the crew that night. He is here from Canada 50 years on to commemorate his perished mates. He has written
about his escape in Denmark in a book ”The Stirling Bomber”, and here he tells about 33 persons of all ages who helped him evade to Sweden.

This memorial stone is erected here to commemorate Charles Parish, the Pilot and Captain of the plane. He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, because
he in September 1940 after having ditched in the Channel he swam more than 10 km to the coast of England. When he lost his life here he was on his 54th bombing
raid with only 1 raid left before he was to leave operational flying.

-       and Elmer Robert Vance, Navigator, the Royal Canadian Air Force.
-       Louis John Krulicki, Wireless Operator, RCAF.
-       James Stanley Marshall, Bomb Aimer, RCAF.
-       Dennis Charles Farley, Mid Upper Air Gunner, RAF.
-       Jack Lees, Rear Gunner, RAF.
 Also Co-Pilot, Squadron Leader Wilfred Albert Blake, RAF, was aboard.
He was also from Canada, where he had served since 1937. This sortie was his first bombing raid.

Present tonight are also Elizabeth Horsford, the sister of Charles Parish, the Captain of the plane, and his brother Michael Parish.
We have communicated with Kathleen Grierson, the sister of Navigator Robert Vance. She lives in Saskatchewan, Canada.

And we have talked to Jack Lee’s sister Laura Rushton in England. In the Royal Air Forces Association we would like to assist in making connections to these relatives and get photos and documents.”

Charles Lofthouse told what flying over enemy territory had been like and added, ”It was a comfort to know that if the worst should happen, there were patriots down
there who would assist us and take care of us, if possible.”
And he ended his speech by reading a poem written by a friend to commemorate Charles Parish. It was printed in a small book written by Parish’s father after the
death of his son.

The principal Danish speech was delivered by Mayor Steen Bach Nielsen. He gave an account of the events of the air crash and said that the memory of the terrible
night had lasted through all 50 years.

”Some people say that the war is over and we must forget everything. I say, No, we must not forget. We are to remember and learn from it. ”Fight for all that you hold
dear. Die if so you must.” 7 young men did that at this spot. They gave their lives, and Denmark became free.” After he had mentioned the names of the 7 perished airmen, the Mayor thanked them and said, ”We will remember them.”

I had asked permission to deliver the last speech with thanks to all who had helped with the memorial stone and to all who attended the ceremony. I finished in Danish and in English with the wish that these 7 young men, who at this site had given their lives in the fight for freedom, will always be remembered.” After the ceremony all
in uniforms marched to Kirke Stillinge headed by the bagpipe players, who played a march, then the Associations of Soldiers with their standards, the Home Guard,
the Visual Observer Corps and finally the Zealand Life Regiment.

About 200 people gathered in the Stillinge City Hall, where many had presents for Donald Smith. He got a number of pieces from the crashed plane and photos of a salvaged dinghy and of the coffins of the perished airmen.

Terkel Jensen presented him with an exact replica of the very old Kelstrup axe. A silver plate had been attached to it with the inscription ”Never has so much been
owed by so many to so few.” Churchill’s famous words from 1940.

The Vicar of Kirke Stillinge/Hejninge 50 years ago, K.F. Olesen, sent his regards via Eva Svenningsen, the present Vicar, who proposed than they should sing ”Fight
for all that you hold dear”. They did so, standing.

Donald Smith told a little about how he had saved his life as the only one of the 8 airmen had saved his life. He had bailed out and evaded to Sweden. It is an exciting account which is told at length in Michael J. F. Bowyer: The Stirling Bomber. 1980. Page 141-146.

Escape from Denmark
Many escapes by wartime R.A.F. aircrew from Europe took place in Holland and France. But a fair proportion of Stirling operations were made around Denmark. It is therefore apt that the following events took place there. The story is told in the words of Sgt. Donald V. Smith, a Canadian flight engineer of 7 Squadron.

`It was 20 April 1943. We were detailed to attack Stettin. (See Stettin+Rostock April 1943) After a hearty meal of fried eggs, chips, tea, bread and butter with jam quite
a good meal, considering that the war had been going on for three years—we clambered aboard R9261 : MG-M just as the sun was setting.

`By 21.00 hrs. we were climbing across the North Sea. The sky was full of aircraft and a sharp look-out had to be maintained. As we crossed the Danish coast night fighters could be seen leaving their airfields and coming up to attack. Ground defences opened up, and we saw two aircraft shot down on our starboard side.

`We were pathfinders on this trip. (See also Bennett & The Pathfinders) Besides markers we carried several general purpose bombs to make up full load. Nearing
Stettin about 50 searchlights turned on. A couple picked us out. By skilful management our skipper soon weaved out of their beams.

`Just as we were about to run in our starboard inner engine packed up, probably hit by flak. I told the skipper, Flt. Lt. C. W. Parish. He immediately feathered it and
turned away from the target. As we made our second run-in on three engines our bombsight failed, so we had no alternative but to turn back. Dropping markers at
random would hinder the raid.

`We saw an airfield, and the bomb aimer asked the skipper if he could drop our can of anti-personnel bombs on it. We flew low, and we could see hangars and
barracks, upon which we dropped the bombs. Searchlights picked us up, and the skipper was forced to dive low out to sea to get away.
(They attacked Peenemünde airfield. See also the official Peenemunde, Historical Technical Information Center and Peenemünde in Wikipedia.)

`By the time we reached the island of Zealand he had managed to get the aircraft to 6,500 ft. The moon was full and it was cloudless. It was more like a daylight raid.

`Just as we crossed the Bay of Korsør two Me 110s appeared, one not more than 50 ft. from our port wing tip—you could see the pilot. The one on the port side
attacked, scoring a few hits. Sergeant Lees, our rear gunner, replied. Then from starboard came the No. 2. He fired, setting our port mainplane on fire. Our aircraft
went out of control. A calm voice came over the intercom: "Sorry boys, you are going to have to jump." Time was 02.00 hrs.

`As the aircraft was going straight down, it was almost impossible to climb back to the escape hatch. We were hit again below the mid-upper turret. This ripped up the floor and I was able to see it as a ladder to make my way to the exit. I believe the upper gunner, Sgt. Farley, and the wireless operator, Sgt. L. Krulicki, were killed in
this attack. As I reached for the static cord to fasten on to Lony's parachute, my chute pulled out of the shoulder catches and I was pulled free of the aircraft. As I fell,
the chute fell right back into my arms. I pulled the cord and in no time was floating down. The plane hit the ground within a few seconds and exploded. What happened
to Flt. Lt. Parish, Sqn. Ldr. W. A. Blake (the second pilot), Plt. Off. E. R. Vance (the navigator) and the bomb aimer, Flt. Sgt. J. S. Marshall, I do not know, but they
were found dead in the aircraft.

`I landed a few fields south of the plane. (See Google Map Don's route - also for all other positions mentioned in Don's account)  It was a freshly ploughed field
and I landed fairly softly beside a water hole. I threw my parachute and Mae West into some bushes, and started out in a south-easterly direction. Soon I was knee
deep in a swampy area. I came to a lane and two German scout cars almost had me in their headlights. I kept up a steady walk and run till 5.30 a.m. By this time I
was dead tired and the sun was rising. I made my way to a clump of trees and some water, covered myself with dead branches and slept for an hour or so.

`As I peeped out of my hiding place I noticed a man not 10 yards away sowing grain. I ducked out of sight till noon, and stripped off my Canadian badges, stripes and wing. At noon I made my way to a deserted farmhouse, where I hid, keeping an eye open for the best way to go.

`Around 5.30 in the evening, while it was still light, I mustered enough courage to chance it. Suddenly a German plane swept over low, as if on a search. I walked
across fields and up river beds until around 9.30 p.m., then was at a loss as to which way to go.

`Seeing a solitary farmer I approached him. He did not seem to know what I wanted until his young son and daughter came along. They knew who I was, and went for
their mother. She knew what I was up to, and took me into their farmhouse. Their young son kept a look-out for Germans while she cooked three eggs, some meat,
black bread and coffee made from roasted grain. I was grateful for it. Before I left they fetched a phone book and pointed out my position. I was no more than 10 km
from where I wanted to go.

`After filling my water bottle I set out, using a railway track as guide. On 22 April around 1 a.m. I was too tired to go any further, so unrolled my flying suit and lay down beside some small pine trees. My sleep was broken by field mice running over me.

`Around 4.30 a.m. I started out again. My feet began to blister from wearing loose fitting flying boots. I was beginning to wonder if it was all worth while. About 7 a.m. I came to a small stream and washed and shaved, for in my escape kit I carried a razor, soap and mirror.

`After this cold wash and shave I started off again. I wrapped my feet in flying socks, easing the pain. I walked until I caught sight of the town of Sorø, circled to the
south and found a pile of sugar beet. I ate some and put others in my pocket for later use—thus I had sugar beet and dandelion leaves for breakfast. I walked through
the bush until around 8 a.m., reaching the outskirts of Sorø. At 8.30 a.m.

I came across a small farm. After resting I went to a door and knocked. A girl of 15 or 16 opened it, saying something in Danish which I couldn't understand. Her
brother came, and I asked for my water bottle to be filled. He scanned the road then pulled me into the house. It was very small, of about three rooms. They sat me
down at a table and I had breakfast of black synthetic coffee and rye bread.

`Within half an hour I was making my way to the outskirts of Ringsted. The sun was very hot, my feet swollen. Entering a farmyard, I found the Germans were using it
as a rifle range. Running as fast as I could, I went into a pasture and a gulley. Here I slept by a manure pile, later to find that I had left my water bottle there.

`Coming across another farm, I entered the yard. A man took me into a barn and showed me where the tap was. The hired man, or son, brought me a bottle of beer
and some carrots; I put some into my pocket. Starting out in a north­easterly direction I came across the small, isolated town of Høm. As I walked through, my
uniform on, people kept staring at me. I later found that it was a public holiday.

`I cut through a bush and hid among some pine trees, resting my feet, then it started to rain, so I headed for a neat farmhouse. A young deer jumped up in front of me
and headed into a thicket. Seeing no one about I went to the door. A middle aged woman opened it. Unable to understand English, she called her husband. He could
see I was an Allied airman, and took me into the house. They gave me soap, hot water and a towel, relieving my tired feeling. I ate heartily of sandwiches made of
cheese and liver roll. I had a couple of glasses of beer and left with a bottle and some sandwiches.

`It was very difficult walking now. Around 7 p.m. I came across a small stable. Inside was some spring water. I washed and shaved, still looking scruffy. I cut off the top portion of my flying boots and made a pair of shoes out of them. As I was doing this a man and woman with two small children approached. He immediately sent the woman and children away; he recognized my uniform. After trying to make him understand where I wanted to go to, he pointed at my clothes, shaking his head and indicating by marking a swastika on his arm that there were too many Gestapo around. I found that he was George Rasmussen. He led me inside the horse stable
and made it clear that I was to stay here until 9.00. This I did without question. At 9.05 he appeared with a bundle under his arm. In it he had a pair of trousers, a knife,
a glass mirror and other useful articles. He then took off his coat, rubber boots, and sweater, and took away my boots and flying suit.

`By pointing at his watch and shaking his head I understood it was unwise to leave before 5.00 a.m. because of curfew. I slept in the stable and arose at 4.30 a.m.
As I went out on the road in the civvies he had given I was met by the same man. He took me into his house, gave me breakfast and some sandwiches. He produced
a Shell road map and pointed out the way to Copenhagen. Swastikas drawn on the map showed heavily defended areas. As I was about to leave he gave me 20 kroner,
all the bills he had, and about 80 ore in change. In return I gave him the 40,000 francs I had in my escape kit. He walked with me to the main road, indicating the route
to take.  

`It was easier travelling in civilian clothes, but the rubber boots soon made my blisters bigger. By 10.00 I realised I was on the wrong road and made my way to a small farmhouse. In the yard was an old man raking the lawn. I showed him that I wanted a drink of water. He took me in the house, where I met his wife, son and daughter.
I was given a glass of milk and a cup of coffee. With their help I was soon on the right road.

`After some time I looked for a place to sleep. It had been hot; my feet so swollen I could not take off my boots. On nearing Taastrup I went to a farmhouse to try to
get somewhere to sleep and some food. On the edge of the town was a house and barn surrounded by a high red brick wall.

`I knocked on the door. It seemed some dinner party was going on, with everyone in formal dress.

The Sorensen family invited me to join them. After a hearty meal I was asked: "When will the British free us, where are they going to strike next?" I could not really answer, but assured them the day was drawing near. I left to their good wishes.

`As I walked through Taastrup, Germans looked suspiciously at me. There were many German transports on the road to Copenhagen, so I headed across fields.
At another farmhouse two elderly men greeted me. I made signs indicating I was an Allied airman wanting somewhere to sleep. They took me to a suitable spot.

`I wandered through a small village which I presumed to be Hersted. Darkness falling, I made for a haystack. I then decided first to go to the nearby house. A middle
aged woman greeted me and called her husband. With the aid of an English–Danish dictionary they informed me they had their children about and I had not to be
seen. Then the husband went to phone friends—or Germans? I did not know, and by this time did not care much. I could walk no further. As it turned out he had
phoned a friend, E. Marborg, the head teacher at the school. He spoke perfect English, and told me the surrounding farmers were pro-Nazi and every precaution had
to be taken. I had coffee and sandwiches, then was given two blankets and taken to the hayloft in the cowshed. I was given instructions to meet him in the morning in Glostrup.

I got up at 4.30 on the 24th and shaved by flashlight. The farmer brought coffee and sandwiches, bandaged my feet before I left and gave me all the change he had.

`I walked for an hour and met him in Glostrup, but by entering the town so early, I was continually watched by the Gestapo—perhaps my queer attire had them
wondering. They did not question me, and I finally found my man. He went to the station and bought two tickets to Copenhagen. It was only a short ride, but we had
hours to wait for the train and the station was filled with Germans Finally we boarded the train for Elsinore (Helsingør). People stared at me but said nothing. On
arriving at our destination we headed along the coast to the ferry terminus. Every half hour a ship would leave for Helsingborg, Sweden, but it was hopeless to try to
get on the ferry. My escape was barred by German guards.

`My companion had no links with the Underground, suggesting I contact some fishermen. It was soon evening, and I had to find somewhere to sleep. As I walked
along the beach I found a small wooden hut. A room was unlocked and I found a table, chairs and a blanket. After eating a sandwich and a Horlicks tablet I slept.
In the early hours of the 25th I was awakened by a Danish police officer. Either he did not notice me, or looked the other way. It started to rain, and I walked between Elsinore and Aalsgaarde at least three times looking for a boat or help. In the late afternoon I noticed a house flying a Danish flag. I knocked at the door, and a young
lady who could speak English answered. She told me they had no boat and could not help me. As I left, a young man called me back for a meal. It was my first real
one for three days. After dinner I listened to the B.B.C. news with Mr. and Mrs. Folmer and then returned to the hut on the beach.

`Next day I approached an old fisherman for help. He could not speak English, but knew what I wanted. The Germans had taken his boat. All hope of escape had vanished. I had lost about 20 lb. weight and I was beginning to feel effects of undernourishment.

`Across the road I could see a man reading in a sun room. I knocked at his door and his wife, who spoke fluent English, answered. I told her my predicament and she fetched her husband. I was taken inside and doors locked—they had three children staying with them. They gave me a really good meal of roast meat and delicacies,
and let me have a bath. I was shown into a bedroom, where I had a lovely rest, although I was too tired to sleep and thoughts of escape would not leave me. Suddenly
the door of the Knudsens' bedroom opened, and a fat little man came running in shouting: "You will go to Sweden." He disappeared just as fast, and I lay there
thanking God for his help. A gentleman came in speaking in English. I learned he had spent some time in the U.S.A., and was married to an Englishwoman. After checking my identity he told me to wait.

`Around 6 p.m. on 25 April he welcomed me to his home. In the evening a distinguished-looking man interrogated me, and said he would have my story verified by
London. He also told me that if it could not be verified ... and at this point he pulled a small revolver from his pocket. We spent a quiet evening and, before retiring,
had a lovely meal.

`In the morning I had a breakfast of ham and eggs, was given some clothes and a pair of plus-four socks and shoes. On 26 April after dinner Mr. Tjørrn, the
distinguished-looking gentleman, again called and took me by taxi to the next town, then by train and taxi to Hellerup. He kept close to me, making sure we were not followed. We walked the last few blocks to his flat at Fristedet 3, and I met his English wife. I stayed for two days, and was taken on a tour of Copenhagen.

`On the night of the 27th, when Mr. Tjørn returned from work, he informed me I would be going right away. We went by taxi to Skodsborg. Our boat was not ready, so
we slept the night there and walked on the beach by day. Chris Hanson (who made the final escape possible), Lars Troen and I had a few Danish beers.

`When darkness came we were escorted across the road to the beach. Members of the Danish Resistance had assembled a collapsible kayak and carried it across
the main road with us. During the day we had been taken to the downtown office and given a coloured light with which we were to signal if a patrol boat came near,
the colour being the code for that night.

`At 11 p.m. we got into our kayak, and with a good swig of Danish schnapps, off we went. On the way a searchlight picked us up, and a patrol boat came after us.
The water was quite rough, so we kept our heads flat on the gunwale and the boat passed by. At 3 a.m. on 1 May we landed just south of Helsingborg.

`The Swedes had left a portion of their beach free of barbed wire so escapees could land safely. We walked inland, circling a small village to keep away from patrols. Around 9 a.m. we went to the British Consulate. We were taken to the home of the Consul, where we were welcomed by his Danish wife. We gave ourselves up at
the police station and the police were wonderful to us. After two days I was allowed to go free, having to report once daily at 11 a.m. I stayed at the Savoy Hotel,
where I had the pleasure of meeting the Swedish Crown Prince and Princess, the Prince later becoming H.M. King Gustav VI Adolf. I stayed at the Savoy until 5 May 1943, when I left Stockholm—after a farewell party with the police."

On 6 May 1943 Smith came to Stockholm and then with a plane back to England. From there he went by ship back to Canada. After the war he worked as a
technician at an engine plant. Now he has retired, and he lives with his wife in St. Catharines in Ontario near the Niagara Falls.

Smith became the first of about 100 allied airmen who escaped to Sweden with assistance from Danes. According to ”When did it happen in the history of Denmark?” about 18,000 people were transported illegally across the Sound during the Occupation, 6,500 of them Jews.

A typical example of what happened to others is found in Anders Bjørnvad’s book ”De fandt en vej”, in English ”They found a way.”

In October 1942 Sergeant Roy Webster crash landed in a Wellington at Lintrup in Southern Jutland. In 10 days Webster had reached Helsingør, but here he was
captured by Danish Police and handed over to the Germans.

Smith’s trip to Denmark to unveil the memorial stone to his fallen mates was his fourth. He has tried to trace some of those who helped him during the war.

From Regnemark and to the Sound it is rather clear where Smith went and who helped him, but his route from Kirke Stillinge to Høm is not ascertained. If anyone
knows something about Smith’s route through the County of Sorø the author of this article would very much like to hear about it.