The Collection of Medals Formed by Bill and Angela Strong

A Great War M.C. group of eight awarded to Brigadier C. M. Vallentin, Royal Artillery, who made a successful bid for freedom from captivity in Italy in late 1943, travelling in disguise as a local peasant, a ruse ably enhanced by his fellow escaper and batman, Lance-Corporal W. Snailum - as related to M.I. 9 on his return to the U.K., the Brigadier had instructed Snailum ‘to look like a half-wit - and he acted the part admirably’

Military Cross, G.V.R., unnamed as issued; 1914 Star, with clasp (2 Lieut. C. M. Vallentin, R.F.A.); British War and Victory Medals (Major C. M. Vallentin); 1939-45 Star; Africa Star; Defence and War Medals, M.I.D. oak leaf, these four privately inscribed, ‘Brig. C. M. Vallentin’, mounted court-style as worn, contact marks, otherwise generally very fine or better (8) £2500-3000

This lot was sold as part of a special collection, The Bill and Angela Strong Medal Collection.

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M.C. London Gazette 1 January 1919.

Claude Max Vallentin was born in Woolwich, Kent in April 1896, the son of Lieutenant-Colonel H. E. Vallentin, D.S.O., O.B.E., and was educated at Wellington College and the R.M.A. Woolwich.

Commissioned in the Royal Artillery in September 1914, he was embarked for France that November, where he joined 27th Battery, R.F.A., then under the command of his father, and, other than a stint of duty as Adjutant to 32nd Brigade, R.F.A., remained similarly employed until the War’s end, latterly as the Battery’s C.O. in the acting rank of Major. He was awarded the Military Cross - and witnessed further active service in Russia in August-October 1919.

Gaining steady advancement between the Wars, Vallentin’s appointments included a period of attachment on Air Staff duties with the Royal Air Force in 1935-36, and time at the R.N. College, Greenwich in the following year, and on the renewal of hostilities in September 1939 he was serving in the acting rank of Lieutenant-Colonel in Gibraltar. But more senior command now beckoned and in November 1940, as an Acting Brigadier, he was embarked for the Middle East as C.O. of a Support Group in 1st Armoured Division, in which capacity he remained actively employed until being appointed C.R.A. 5th Indian Division in April 1942. However, Vallentin was subsequently taken P.O.W. in a counter-attack on the “Cauldron” at Bir Harmat on 5 June.

Handed over to the Italians, he was incarcerated in Campo 35 at Padula from June-September 1942, where he was Senior British Officer, and thence the Villa Orsini, outside Campo 78 at Sulmona, from which latter place he made his successful bid for freedom a few days later.

Fortunately for posterity’s sake, the Brigadier’s account of his escape survives not just in M.I. 9 records but also in more colourful form in The Royal Artillery Commemoration Book 1939-45. The first source, however, takes up the story at the time of the Italian capitulation:

‘After the Italian armistice had been concluded on 8 September 1943, all the inmates of the Villa Orsini organised themselves into parties of five for quick dispersal should there appear any danger of the Germans arriving. Italian officers and guards cut gaps in the wire fences to aid this dispersal. On 11 September, owing to German transport appearing on the roads about 300 yards away, which we had never observed before, parties dispersed to the fields ... On 12 September the Germans arrived at the main camp and said that their troops would be arriving the following day to take over all P.O.Ws. My party went up to the hills that night, still being based on Sulmona area for water and food. On the night of 16-17 September, as the Germans were beginning to make their presence felt in Sulmona, we moved south to a new hide-out in the hills west of Pettorano, basing ourselves on that village for food. We remained together in that area, changing hide-outs periodically, until 23 October. On that date our party split, quite amicably. We had all agreed that five was too big a party to get through. Brigadier S. Williams and Brigadier A. Anderson wished to remain a little longer in the area in the hope of our troops arriving; they also preferred the idea of moving S.E. towards the 8th Army front, should they move, rather than south, which I favoured. Lance-Corporal W. Snailum, myself and a guide therefore started at 0630 hours on 23 October. We had a story arranged that we were charcoal burners from Pescara and that my son (Snailum) was stone-deaf ... ’

The same source goes on to describe an encounter with a German N.C.O. east of Settefrati on the 26th:

‘Here we were stopped by the German N.C.O. in command of a pack train and asked for our documents. I told him in my best Italian that we had no papers and trotted out the charcoal-burner story. He opened my coat. I had a British water bottle which he fortunately did not recognise, merely asking if it contained coffee. When I said, “water only”, he turned away. A few minutes later I caught his eye, gave a timid Fascist salute, and said, “Good evening”. He waved us off impatiently, and we walked slowly away. I had instructed Snailum to look like a half-wit, and he acted the part admirably ... ’

M.C. London Gazette 1 January 1919.

Claude Max Vallentin was born in Woolwich, Kent in April 1896, the son of Lieutenant-Colonel H. E. Vallentin, D.S.O., O.B.E., and was educated at Wellington College and the R.M.A. Woolwich.

Commissioned in the Royal Artillery in September 1914, he was embarked for France that November, where he joined 27th Battery, R.F.A., then under the command of his father, and, other than a stint of duty as Adjutant to 32nd Brigade, R.F.A., remained similarly employed until the War’s end, latterly as the Battery’s C.O. in the acting rank of Major. He was awarded the Military Cross - and witnessed further active service in Russia in August-October 1919.

Gaining steady advancement between the Wars, Vallentin’s appointments included a period of attachment on Air Staff duties with the Royal Air Force in 1935-36, and time at the R.N. College, Greenwich in the following year, and on the renewal of hostilities in September 1939 he was serving in the acting rank of Lieutenant-Colonel in Gibraltar. But more senior command now beckoned and in November 1940, as an Acting Brigadier, he was embarked for the Middle East as C.O. of a Support Group in 1st Armoured Division, in which capacity he remained actively employed until being appointed C.R.A. 5th Indian Division in April 1942. However, Vallentin was subsequently taken P.O.W. in a counter-attack on the “Cauldron” at Bir Harmat on 5 June.

Handed over to the Italians, he was incarcerated in Campo 35 at Padula from June-September 1942, where he was Senior British Officer, and thence the Villa Orsini, outside Campo 78 at Sulmona, from which latter place he made his successful bid for freedom a few days later.

Fortunately for posterity’s sake, the Brigadier’s account of his escape survives not just in M.I. 9 records but also in more colourful form in The Royal Artillery Commemoration Book 1939-45. The first source, however, takes up the story at the time of the Italian capitulation:

‘After the Italian armistice had been concluded on 8 September 1943, all the inmates of the Villa Orsini organised themselves into parties of five for quick dispersal should there appear any danger of the Germans arriving. Italian officers and guards cut gaps in the wire fences to aid this dispersal. On 11 September, owing to German transport appearing on the roads about 300 yards away, which we had never observed before, parties dispersed to the fields ... On 12 September the Germans arrived at the main camp and said that their troops would be arriving the following day to take over all P.O.Ws. My party went up to the hills that night, still being based on Sulmona area for water and food. On the night of 16-17 September, as the Germans were beginning to make their presence felt in Sulmona, we moved south to a new hide-out in the hills west of Pettorano, basing ourselves on that village for food. We remained together in that area, changing hide-outs periodically, until 23 October. On that date our party split, quite amicably. We had all agreed that five was too big a party to get through. Brigadier S. Williams and Brigadier A. Anderson wished to remain a little longer in the area in the hope of our troops arriving; they also preferred the idea of moving S.E. towards the 8th Army front, should they move, rather than south, which I favoured. Lance-Corporal W. Snailum, myself and a guide therefore started at 0630 hours on 23 October. We had a story arranged that we were charcoal burners from Pescara and that my son (Snailum) was stone-deaf ... ’

The same source goes on to describe an encounter with a German N.C.O. east of Settefrati on the 26th:

‘Here we were stopped by the German N.C.O. in command of a pack train and asked for our documents. I told him in my best Italian that we had no papers and trotted out the charcoal-burner story. He opened my coat. I had a British water bottle which he fortunately did not recognise, merely asking if it contained coffee. When I said, “water only”, he turned away. A few minutes later I caught his eye, gave a timid Fascist salute, and said, “Good evening”. He waved us off impatiently, and we walked slowly away. I had instructed Snailum to look like a half-wit, and he acted the part admirably ... ’

Nor was this the Brigadier’s only close encounter with the enemy. He takes up the story in The Royal Artillery Commemoration Book, as he and Snailum were lying up on a hilltop four miles east of Cassino:

‘We had come south slowly, mainly owing to the bad condition of my feet and stomach. We were disguised in old Italian plain clothes, felt hats and beards, while I carried a shepherd’s crook. Our story, in broken Italian, had been that we were charcoal burners moving south from Pescara, that I was “a poor old man” – my beard helped in this, as it grew white – and that Snailum was my dear son. This had already worked more than once, in particular with a German Feldwebel who had his hands on me.

Close to our hide were the most wonderful O.Ps over the Rapido valley. We could see German battery and mortar positions, tank leaguers and transport spread out below us – if only we had had a wireless set! We spent a month watching the fighting in the valley. At first we hoped that an Allied attack would sweep up the valley; later the weather broke badly, the Rapido burst its banks and it seemed obvious that no successful attack was likely until the spring. During this period we lived as beggars among shepherds and peasants who had taken refuge in the hills, and I shall never forget their kindness. Apart from the fact that they were running great risks in helping us at all – for the Germans sent patrols into the hills – many of them had lost practically all they had; speaking generally, the poorer they were the more in proportion they gave us.


By early December we were getting no stronger, and we decided that we must make a serious effort to get through in the hills. With the good wishes of our friends we set out on the afternoon of December 9th, accompanied by Umberto Venuti, an 18-year-old Italian student who joined up with us in spite of our warnings as to what might happen to him if we were caught. At first all went well. We avoided two German patrols and some American shelling, and in alternate showers of rain and patches of moonlight felt we had every chance. But at two o’clock on the morning of December 10th we bumped into the back of a German post about two miles east of Viticuso. An enormous N.C.O. with a pistol and another with a tommy-gun stood over us in the moonlight while Umberto spun our tale in Italian, backed up by my explaining that I was “molto molto vecchio”. To our amazement it worked, and without any search we were told to go to hell out of it, or words to that effect. We shambled off, followed by the N.C.O. for about half a mile, then side-stepped north and got into cover.

After being delayed by a very noisy German patrol, we decided to cross a road by going through a single-arch bridge spanning a dry watercourse. Not a sound until we were under the arch, when a single rifle shot rang out very close, probably a trip-wire. We lay down six feet from the bridge on the slope of the watercourse. As we did so “all the works” were let loose. A machine gun started up above us and only ten yards away; a small trench mortar joined in lobbing its bombs over the bridge.

This infernal din went on for about five minutes, broken only by short pauses in which we could distinctly hear magazines being changed. An American battery then put down two extremely accurate concentrations on the bridge. They did not hit it, but they stopped the German fire. We lay without making a sound for two and a half hours. Then, just when the edge of a cloud was touching the moon, we crawled out, taking ten minutes for the first 30 yards, until we were in dead ground; after that we moved east, feeling that we had had a definite let-off!

About four o’clock in the morning I came to the conclusion that we were through the Germans, for both American and German shells arrived on the hillside where we were. We moved on, and followed a mule track which later led into a narrow gorge. Soon we saw a telephone wire which looked different from the red German wire we knew, later a small dump of shell and cased cartridges with the magic word LOT stencilled on them, and then some boxes of rations. As we picked up an opened tin and helped ourselves to excellent cold M. & V. with our fingers, we heard voices from some bushes, and they were talking American! Hoping to find someone who was not too quick on the draw, we moved round the bend and found ourselves covered by three rifles. It was then that I got my last blinding shock – I had never seen American steel helmets before.

But I was soon set at ease by “Advance one and be recognised”. I advanced – one – followed afterwards by Snailum and Umberto. “ Say, you mustn’t mind if we seem slow, but we have to be careful.” We didn’t mind how long they took, for cigarettes had been pressed into our mouths. That night the three of us dined in the Royal Palace of Caserta – Fifth Army Headquarters!’

Vallentin, who was mentioned in despatches for his earlier services in North Africa (London Gazette 15 December 1942 refers), but who received no recognition for his Italian escapade, was placed on the Retired List in June 1948, and afterwards served for many years as Under-Sheriff of the City of London. He died in July 1961; sold with a quantity of original obituary notices, a photocopy of the recipient’s Short History of the 27th Battery R.F.A., and some related research.