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2LT Robert Dea Peterson Jr. WWII POW Journal - Stalag Luft 1 - Barth, Germany 429th Bombardment Squadron (Heavy)  2nd Bomb Group, 15th Air Force, Foggia, Italy B-17F "Lydia Pinkham" - Aircraft Serial # 42-5409

GARLAND ALLISON "MONTY" MONTAGUE

PRISONER-OF-WAR DIARY

Block 8, Room 4, Stalag Luft 1, Barth Germany

Garland Allison "Monty" Montague was a bombardier on a B-17 and was assigned to the 306th Bomb Group, 8th Air Force and flew his first mission on September 5th, 1944 (his wife's birthday).

Monty volunteered to be the bombardier on "Methuselah 696" for a mission to Berlin on the 12th of September since the aircraft's bombardier was sick.

The B-17's crew was: 1LT Earl R. Barr (pilot), 2LT Robert E. Reid (co-pilot), 2 LT Mathew A. Myerson (navigator), Garland A. Montague (bombardier), Tech Sgt William J. Bauer (Top Turret), Tech Sgt Hector A. Chavez (radio), Staff Sgt Alfred R. Capen (waist gunner), Staff Sgt Wilbur A. Whitaker (tail gunner), and Staff Sgt Nicholas Hoolko (ball turret).

Prior to reaching their destination, the B-17 went through heavy flack than was attacked by fighters. Two engines were on fire and the crew bailed out at 26,000 feet. The tail gunner did not make it out in time before the plane blew up. Lt Myerson (Navigator) and SGT Bauer (Top Turret) bailed out between Monty and were never heard from again. Of a crew of 9, only 6 were accounted for. (Note. See Staff Sgt Nicholas Hoolko's story)

He returned to the States on the 16th of June, 1945 and was discharged in October 1945. Latest update: 10 April 2008)

11:32 a.m. (D.B.S.T.) September 12, 1944: At this time, I really began to see combat in a different sense. I had just pulled my ripcord after bailing out. I was dazed by the snap of the chute opening but soon regained consciousness to find that it was a bit chilly floating down from 26,000 feet with a temperature of 35 degrees below zero. I removed my gloves and cap in order to quickly remove my oxygen mask and put on my chute. What really sent chills racing up my spine was thinking of the "reception" awaiting for me as I solely descended through space. I knew that in a matter of minutes, I would be in the hands of our enemy and being about 25 miles northwest of Berlin, I knew that the civilians would not be waiting for me with roses. Thank goodness for the hazy overcast which was hanging at about 2000 feet.

I got sick for a few seconds but recovered before I landed. When I was about 500 feet from the ground, I began to realize that I was falling rather fast so I tried for the next few seconds to sum up the spot I would land on. First, I thought it would be on a roof of a home in Ebenwald but I drifted a bit further and missed it by about 25 feet. I landed at about 11:45 on the sidewalk just missing a picket fence by 3 feet.

Within a few seconds, my chute had been removed and I was standing with my hands over my head. Two German soldiers had guns in my back and there were about a hundred spectators and the number was growing as I was marched off to jail. I thank my lucky stars for the soldiers because they kept the civilians from the "swine", "dog", "murderer", "beef gangster (air gangster)", and all the other names they knew in both English and German. A woman kicked me and spat on me but I wasn't far from the jail and was able to make it there safely.

It is almost impossible to remember the many things which passed through my mind during the time I floated to earth and the few hours that I spend in jail. One cannot prepare for this kind of ordeal and the mind works up a thousand scenarios. All of a sudden, the war is up close and personal.

What I thought about most was my wife, Dot, and my Grandmother. What would they think by the time I was reported as "Missing in Action" (MIA) until I was listed as a "Prisoner of War" (POW) – if I lived that long. I relived practically every minute of my life: those precious moments that Dot and I spent together, thoughts of Mama and how she would worry about me, and how the rest of the family would think and feel. I prayed to God that he would spare me to return home to my loved ones after this terror of war was over.

Out the back window of the jail, I saw a post that had been splintered by bullets but for some reason or other, I had no fear of being shot. Naturally I could not bear the thought or Dot, Mama, and out families receiving word that I was "Killed in Action" (KIA) so it was for this reason that I began to feel as if I would not die.

At about 3 P.M., I was taken to a school building where there were about 12 other POWs that had gone down in the same vicinity. We were give first aid (I did not have a scratch) then all, our money, escape kits, and other possessions were taken from us. I was allowed to keep my wedding ring. I would have hated to part with that.

In the yard of the school grounds, there were fragments of planes and a .50 caliber wing gun from a P-47 fighter. None of the Germans knew anything about the gun so they asked us to unload the gun so no civilian would get hurt. I volunteered and went in the yard and unloaded the gun. The "Jerries" seemed to appreciate this and I was given the opportunity of washing my hands because they were very dirty. We were treated OK by the German soldiers.

At about 4:30, were loaded on a truck and in a staff car and taken to a jail in another town abut 10 miles away named Fenow. That is where I saw my pilot and co-pilot along with about 40 other American and British airmen. We were given a thick stew of carrots, barley, etc., which was seasoned with lard. It tasted like dishwater. We had barley coffee which was hot, and brown bread that I could gulp down in one swallow. We spent the night without beds or blankets and were put in 5 ½ x 9 foot cells where 8 of us had to stay for the night.

September 13, 1944: My second day in the hands of the enemy. Last night was, by no means, spent in peace although, I did have somewhat of a bad day yesterday. I kept thinking and wondering how Dot and the rest would respond to my MIA notice. It would be a long time before they would know the details. I did get a little sleep even though we were cramped up without room to stretch. For breakfast we had black coffee and black bread. The coffee I could go for, but I wasn't too crazy over the bread. I just wasn't too hungry.

In the afternoon, we were taken to Berlin on a charcoal burning truck. About every 20 minutes, the driver would have to get out and drop blocks of charcoal in the fire box. Ha! Odd distributor – no doubt.

We arrived in Berlin between 4:30 and 5:00 pm. It should have been the time to see everyone getting off work but it appeared as the "Deserted City" for there was little traffic and few pedestrians. The outside walls of grotesque buildings formed shells of ghastly ruins. For a moment, we seemed to have forgotten our worries for we were all eyes seeing so much of the cities destruction. Hardly a building seemed to be left intact. What a shame it is for a civilization to be so stupid as to fight and see their people suffer the hardships, as the German people are suffering, is beyond all normal comprehension. If they can't comprehend the outcome, then thank God we have the Air Corps, Armies, and equipment to drive home a lesson that they will never forget.

A lot of people became frantic then they would see us pass while others would just stand and stare at us for it was us who bombed their cities. It was no pleasure but it was necessary that we gave them a dose of their own medicine which was returned 10 fold.

We were taken to the Tempelhof Airdrome in Berlin where we were put in a dungeon to spend the night. About 10:00 p.m., we were given bread, sausage, and margarine which was to last us until the next night. The floor was cement and we had a mattress to be shared by 4 to 5 men and no blankets. There was no sleep to speak of but there were plenty of rats and flies. Everything was there to make life miserable.

Day 3, September 14, 1944: We left Berlin early in the morning by train. We traveled all day and about 10:00 p.m., the train stopped in a small town. There were two German Red Cross women who had been serving soup and coffee to a group of German soldiers who had just passed by. They had a little left so they served it to us. After traveling all day on an empty stomach, the hot barley soup and coffee that they served in paper containers tasted good. The women were middle aged and they treated us very nicely. They even insisted that we take a second helping of soup and coffee. This would be the first and only luxury I would see in Germany.

Day 4, September 15, 1944: We traveled all the night in a day coach and arrived in Oberursel early the next morning. We took a trolley from uptown to an interrogation center in the suburbs. We were given two thinly sliced pieces of black bread with jam and in spite of my light meals for the past three days. I only licked the jam off the bread and tossed the bread away. That was a mistake. A Jerry saw me throw the bread away, etc, etc. Here I learned my first real lesson in thrift so far as food was concerned.

In the interrogation center, the Jerries did their utmost to obtain all the information they could from the POWs. I was asked questions on what position I was flying, squadron, etc. I gave them only my name, rank, and serial number. They threatened to turn me over to the Gestapo but I would not give them any information. It was amazing as to how much they knew about us. One of the POWs said that after he refused to talk, they put him is solitary for a few days then brought him out and told him information about him. They told him what type of plane he was flying, his position, and showed him pictures of his crew that were made in England. They told him his wife's maiden name, his home town, when he graduated, where he got his promotion, when he left the states and arrived in England. They have espionage agents in so many military offices in England and the States.

I met a British airman in the center that said that he jumped from his plane at 16,000 feet. His parachute did not open and when he landed, he had no broken bones but was bruised from head to toe. I suppose miracles do happen.

I spent most of the day locked in a small cell with 10 other airmen (2 British). At 10:00 p.m., I was taken out to a barracks where I was given a blanket on which to sleep but there was no bed or mattress.

Day 5, September 16, 1944: Before we went to bed, our shoes were taken from us and when we got up, we got our shoes back and for some reason, some of the guards shoes were mixed up with ours and one of the guards shoes were missing. It was so funny to see that "Kraut" yelling something that no one could understand although, we could make out an occasional "swine", etc. He was mad as a hornet.

This morning was the first time that I was able to eat all the black bread. We were given two pieces of bread with jam and I was actually hungry enough to eat every crumb. (Incidentally, I haven't thrown away any more Jerry bread.)

We left Oberursel in the morning accompanied by several guards and headed for Dulag Luft which is supposed to be the "country club" of all POW camps in Germany. This section of the country is very pretty for it is in the foot-hills of the Alps. We saw quite a few deer along the railroad tracks. The scenery is comparable to that of western North Carolina. Why these people are fighting with the country they have is beyond me.

Day 6, September 17, 1944: Wetzlin: It took 24 hours to get here from Oberursel, which is 45 miles away. The railroad must be in bad condition. We arrived here about noon without food since yesterday at noon. Ah! First I must mention the hot shower we got at Dulag Luft after being thoroughly searched. We have been searched about six times up to now. Tears came to practically everyone's eyes when we were given a little handbag so completely packed with toilet articles, pajamas, socks, handkerchiefs, a sweater, underwear, and all the other bear necessities. It was like a Christmas present to a kid. Little did we realize that the American Red Cross could reach us at this place and we needed it so badly.

About 4 P.M., we were told that we would get a hot meal – Finally!! You could not conceive the expression on our faces when we were greeted by Colonel Stark and were shown to the mess hall where we had almost all the salmon and mashed potatoes (mashed together) that we could eat. We also had two slices of Jerry bread and a cup of American coffee. I don't think I shall ever live to enjoy a meal more than I did this one. I think every man offered a silent prayer for the many things we has to be thankful for.

I can now say that this was my first experience of being hungry although a person does not suffer malnutrition for quite a long time. His hunger does not seem to increase beyond a certain point. Ordinarily, the latter reaches a climax after only possibly two or three days.

We actually had bunks, mattresses, and two blankets for a bed and you can bet your last penny that this was one of the happiest days of our lives for we had received a warm welcome, food, clothing, bath, bed, and an opportunity to write home. Ah! now for a good night's sleep for we had not had any sleep of food to speak of for 5 days.

September 17th to 22nd 1944: Enjoy the food here so much, especially after the first 5 days. Our large meal, which is about 5 P.M., usually consists of salmon or creamed corn beef with potatoes, 2 slices of bread, a cracker, and powdered milk or cocoa drink. Colonel Stark does a wonderful job of entertaining and making everything as comfortable as possible for us, who are on our way to other camps. The YMCA has a very nice little library so we enjoyed sitting around reading. We had several air raid alerts and Wetzler was bombed once – ‘twas indeed a good show.

September 23rd to 26th, 1944: We heard a very good sermon by an Englishman who was a former member of an air crew. We had a lot in common.

About noon, we boarded a train for Stalag Luft 1 in Barth, Germany. But, of course, we were thoroughly search first. Each man was issued a Red Cross parcel. The train was a day coach with compartments to accommodate 4 people into which 10 of us had to ride. The train seemed to move forward and backward, off and on all night, during our first night. We found ourselves still in Wetzler in the morning. It was about noon the second day before we left Wetzler.

Each day, during our trip, we were given about a 1/5 loaf of bread and about 2 ounces of poor grade sausage. That was all the Jerry food we received but, we made out OK for the Red Cross parcels contained a lot of good food like corned beef, Spam, margarine, jam, powdered milk, cheese, coffee, sugar, crackers, salmon, raisons, chocolate, soap, and cigarettes. Once or twice the train stopped so we could get hot water and we made coffee.

It seemed as though we spent about ¾ of our time behind freight trains in marshalling yards shifting back and forth. We were ideal targets for bombers and fighters. Some of those freight yards certainly have taken a beating and a lot of locomotives have taken beatings also.

The landscape was beautiful with mountains, rivers, valleys, etc. We have seen more deer several times. We have also seen quite a few foreign POWs around the towns on working details. Women seem to be taking over a lot of man-sized jobs throughout the country. Ha!

I tried to trade the guard a cigarette for his pistol and he said he would if it wasn't for the fact that he would get shot if he got caught. They will give almost anything for an American cigarette. Besides, they are not all patriotic to Mr. Hitler by a heck of a long shot.

On noon, the 4th day, we arrived in Barth-a trip of only 300 miles. I need not say that communications in Germany is indeed awful.

(The remainder of the diary is a chronological order of events)

September 12 -17 1944: Entrance to Deutschland and captured

September 22 1944: Left for Barth

September 22 - 26 1944: Enroute to Barth

September 26 1944: Arrived at Stalag Luft 1, Barth, Germany

October 5 1944: Show from west compound

October 6 1944: U.S.A.A.F. pays Stralszund a "little visit"

October 17 1944: Mosquito strafed airdrome

October 30 1944: Keg of Jerry beer and Col Spiciss speech

November 7 1944: Election day – Campaign between by Kriegie

November 30 1944: Thanksgiving in Kriegie land

December 4 1944: Movie "Spring Parade" – Durbin

December 18 1944: Chimney sweep in high hat

December 22 1944: Christmas parcels are here (4x5 men)

December 24 1944: Kriegie stage show in mess hall

December 25 1944: Christmas – 2 cakes, etc. and religious services

December 30 1944: Snow

January 1 1945: Skit at roll call

January 2 1945: Moved to Block 3, room 12

January 13 1945: Movie "Double Life" – Hardy

January 16 1945: Bridge tournament – Heymann and Monty

January 19 1945: Russian drive opens

February 2 1945: Power off – no lights or water

February 8 1945: Good show by R.A.F. 11 P.M. chandelier flares, etc

February 19 1945: Evac'd POWs arrive. Zych arrived here and best of all, a letter from Harvey's Virginia

February 26 1945: Night strafe job – too close to suit me

March 7 1945: Big show, R.A.F. on convoy

March 23 1945: Beginning of Holy Week and daily services by Padre Clark

March 27 1945: No Red Cross parcels have been received since Feb 15th. No, I and about 8,000 other men will never forget this period of hunger through which we have just passed – No Never

March 27 1945: Today is one of the happiest days of our lives for the Red Cross has come through. It is hard for a hungry person to get his mind off his stomach. News is good on whole West Front. We are praying for Patton, Patch, Simpson, Hodhes, Dempsy, and all the rest of the leaders and their men.

April 1 1945: Easter Sunday. Breakfast in bed – toast and jam with coffee. At morning roll call, trumpet solo "Easter Parade". Church services and Holy Communion by Padres Mitchell and Clark. A very excellent sermon. Dinner - ½ can of Spam, mashed potatoes, gravy, with onions, pate and milk, and apple pudding with cheese. The best meal in two months. Cake and hot chocolate snack and later fudge. Whew! What a day and to think a week ago we nearly starved. Now, news is good, more Jerry food. Red Cross coming through and personal parcels and mail coming alone fine.

April 3 1945: Max Schmeling – Good Will?!!?, We thought he was dead.

April 4 1945: No. 1 mess hall burned. A nice letter from Grace Brown Taylor

April 5 1945: Jerries seem to be running wild – for it seems they cannot do enough for us compared to a few days ago. Morale is soaring skyward as everything is going as well as we can expect.

April 10 1945: General Himmler, the henchman, visited us today.

April 13 1945: The terrible news of President Roosevelt's death. Book parcel from Jane which I appreciate so very much – A New Testament and "I Dare Not Go a Hunting" by Dorathea Cornwell.

April 12 1945: Today is our second anniversary. Dot certainly was wishing that the war would be over and we would be able to celebrate together but it can't be long now before we will be together and then all will be lovely.

April 15 1945: Personal inspection by Colonel Wilson on parade ground. Intensive Luftwaffe activity.

April 16 1945: Russian drive supposedly started. No lights.

April 18 1945: My first letter from Dot. I am certainly surprised to see her return address being Smithfield and am terribly worried that she is in the hospital with no explanation of her illness.

April 21 1945: Letter from Mary Ann. I appreciate so much only I am more worried than ever about Dot's condition as she says Dot is getting a medical discharge. Still haven't the slightest idea what could be wrong with her.

April 26 1945: Yes, today is my birthday and we had all thought we would be liberated before now but, again I say it cannot be long but we must be patient so I keep telling myself.

[Historical Notes By: Richard C. Easingwood, Sr. – Son-In-Law of Garland Montague]

The POWs at Stalag Luft 1 were told to keep the wooden shutters closed at night or they would be shot. One time a POW shot because he opened the shutter. The Germans didn't want the light from the buildings to signal to allied planes flying over. On the 29th of April 1945 the German Stalag Luft 1 Kommandant called the ranking officers of American and British prisoners and informed them that they had orders to move west away from the Russians approaching the camp. Hitler had ordered that all POW's not moved to be killed. The Kommandant said he would not do that but he was leaving soon.

Early the next morning, April 30th the German soldiers fled west toward the British lines leaving the POWs to take care of themselves. They immediately formed an operational military unit under the command of Colonel Hubert Zemke and Group Commander C. T. Weir, to try and keep the POWs together at the camp and keep out German civilians and disguised German soldiers. The fence line was guarded to convince our men to stay in camp (for their own safety).

Approximately three days later Russian army units arrived and setup their own guard system. At this time they drove in about 50 head of cattle, taken from the Germans, which the POWs had to butcher and process (very crudely) for food. The Russians brought their families and moved into German homes making servants out of the Germans (women, older men and children). The POWs had to wait nearly two weeks until the Russians verified their status and also so they could clear a nearby airfield of the explosive mines.

On Saturday, the 5th of May, 1945, the POWs from Stalag Luft 1 printed the "Barth Hard Times" newspaper, Vol 1, No. 1 Last 1 with the Price of 1 D-Bar. The editor was F/T E.R. Inkpen, Assoc, 1st LT N. Giddings, Publisher 1st Lt D. MacDonald and Printing by F/Lt J. D. White.

Finally the great day arrived and American C-47s flew in and took them to camp Lucky Strike in France. The POWs were there for about two weeks and then embarked on the US Admiral Mayo for a week at sea to the United States.

GARLAND ALLISON "MONTY" MONTAGUE passed away 20 February 2008, at the age of 91.

Asbury Park Press 5/26/02 By JOSEPH PICARD - TOMS RIVER BUREAU

Memorial Day takes on added significance for World War II Army Air Corps veteran Nicholas Hoolko.

"You almost never hear stories like mine," said Hoolko, 76, of Mansfield Drive in Brick, "because the people these kind of things happen to usually die."

Staff Sgt. Hoolko was one of six survivors of the nine-member crew of a B-17 Flying Fortress bomber, unavailingly nicknamed Methuselah, that was shot down over Germany in September 1944. Afterward, he spent nine months in a German POW camp. Hoolko remembers his lost companions. But what is always foremost in his memory is his own remarkable survival.

In 1943, Hoolko, then from Newark, was a construction worker on a government project, but he waived his deferment and went into the Army. In December of that year, he was shipped to England and hooked up with a friend from Newark, Billy Bell, who was a tail gunner in the Army Air Corps and part of the 306th Bomber Group, affectionately known as the Reich Wreckers. Hoolko visited with Bell one weekend. By the time of Hoolko's next weekend leave, Bell was dead, shot down over Germany.

Hoolko was deeply moved.

"I wanted to take his place, to sort of take up where he left off," he said. "I asked to be transferred to the 306th."

The Army, Hoolko explained, frowned on soldiers transferring once they were overseas. His commanding officer suggested he tell his notion to the chaplain. Hoolko did so. A month later he was transferred to the bomber group and became part of the Army Air Corps. Because he showed himself able, and because "no one else wanted the job, I became my plane's ball turret gunner," he said.

The ball turret is the windowed compartment protruding from the belly of the bomber, where the gunner squats in a space too small to include a parachute. In that position, Hoolko flew 12 bomber missions over France and Germany. The Methuselah's 13th mission was part of the "Tour of Germany" air assault of Sept. 12, 1944, in which 900 Allied aircraft flew a wide arc over the country, targeting enemy troops and industry.

According to the Air Force Historical Research Agency, located at Maxwell Air Force Base in Alabama, accompanying ball turret gunner Hoolko on that flight were: 1st Lt. Earl R. Barr, pilot; 2nd Lt. Robert E. Reid, co-pilot; 2nd Lt. Mathew A. Myerson, navigator; 2nd Lt. Garland A. Montague, bombardier; Tech. Sgt. William J. Bauer, top turret gunner; Tech. Sgt. Hector A. Chavez, radio operator; Staff Sgt. Alfred R. Capen, waist gunner; and Staff Sgt. Wilbur A. Whitaker, tail gunner.

The bomber was about halfway through its 12-hour mission, still several miles south of Berlin, when its luck ran out.

"We'd been taking flak for some time," Hoolko said. "First the flak, then the fighters. I swung my turret around and, suddenly, a German fighter was directly in front of me, no more than 300 yards, firing away."

Hoolko returned fire and saw the fighter pass overhead in a ball of flames. But the bomber had already been hit.

According to U.S. Army documents, other bombing crews witnessed the Methuselah's destruction. One crew reported a direct hit on engine No. 3, another crew saw all four engines on fire and spied several parachutes. But Hoolko was still in the burning, falling plane.

The turret was getting hot. Hoolko tried to get out.

"I calmly unlocked the two handles of my hatch and pushed the door up," he said. "It opened about six inches, then stopped and would not budge."

He tried to force the door, to no avail. He shouted for help. No answer. He peered through the six-inch slot, saw blood splattered on the floor and the rear escape hatch wide open. He had not heard the bail order. As he later learned, the pilot and four crew members had gotten out. Three other crew members -- Bauer, Myerson and Whitaker -- were dead.

"There was an eerie quiet, only the sound of air rushing through the plane," Hoolko said. "I felt tired now. I remember sitting back down and saying to myself, 'the hell with it.' "

But Hoolko gave his hatch controls one more try. The door popped open. He tried to climb out, but found his left foot was stuck in the turret. He struggled to pull the leg up, but a new horror was upon him. The plane had been hit at 30,000 feet, or more than five miles up. Its oxygen supply was now blown away, and Hoolko was losing consciousness. Even as he blacked out, he realized the plane was exploding.

"When I came to, I saw white above me and heard a whistling in my ears. I thought I was in heaven. Then I started to realize where I was."

He was at 10,000 feet, where oxygen-rich air had revived him. He was lying on his back, with multiple injuries, on a large, open-air piece of fuselage lazily spiraling ground ward, like a gigantic iron leaf.

"I turned my head and could see my parachute right where I placed it before getting into the turret," he said.

Without the use of his left arm, which was pinned beneath him, Hoolko managed to grab the parachute and clip it on. With the ground getting ever closer, he realized that, if he opened the chute where he lay, it would pop off his chest. He needed to be in the air. Unable to greatly move, he rocked his body to the edge of the metal floor and pushed himself over into a free fall.

Then the chute would not open. Once, he tried, and twice. On the third try, it opened and he floated. He landed in a tree, fell to the ground, crawled into some bushes and fell asleep.

Shortly thereafter, he was captured by German soldiers. He refused to give information and was beaten.

"I was finally hit over the head, and that is my last memory of anything," he said.

Hoolko spent nine months in a POW camp. He remembers nothing of it. He also does not remember being liberated or how he got back to the United States. Moreover, he can recall almost nothing of his first 12 missions. But the Methuselah's end -- that's crystal clear.

"It is now 58 years later, and I remember every second of every minute in my struggle to survive," said Hoolko, who is now retired from a family construction business.

He is well-decorated -- the Air Medal, the European Theater of Operations Medal, the World War II Victory Medal, the POW Medal, four Bronze Stars, a Purple Heart, the New Jersey Distinguished Service Medal and, recently, a Certificate of Recognition from France for having contributed to that nation's liberation. He is also a member of the Ocean County chapter of Ex-Prisoners of War.

Still, he has never before told the detailed story of his survival.

"I've started to tell it at the POW club, but I always break down and can't do it," he said.

He's never even told family members. But this Memorial Day, those surviving will be able to read about Nick Hoolko's ordeal.

"I'm glad to be finally getting this out," he said. "I want my children to know what happened." "