Frank Pickersgill had a plan. It was December 1941. He’d been locked up by the Nazis for months, shipped from one internment camp to another. Starving and sick, he’d been forced to exist on nothing more than hot water, mouldy potato soup, and bread. He’d seen horrors, witnessed fellow prisoners murdered, and lost forty pounds off an already thin frame. But now, there was hope. Frank Pickersgill was going to escape.