The debut episode of Secret Army, Lisa – Codename Yvette is required to hit the ground running as it has to introduce all of the regular characters and set up the parameters of the series within the space of fifty minutes.

Willis Hall’s script deftly achieves this, although with so much ground to cover it’s not surprising that fairly broad brush strokes are used (future episodes will begin to explore the recurring cast in more detail).

At the Candide (in its series one incarnation as a fairly earthy café/bar) Albert is in charge – caught between his bedridden and suspicious wife (Andree) and his mistress (Monique). Also on hand is Natalie whilst Alain (later established as the escape line’s radio operator) spends this episode pounding the streets.

Albert might run the Candide, but the escape line (Lifeline) is controlled by Lisa Colbert, who, as the episode title suggests, has the codename of Yvette. Why Lisa should be the only member of Lifeline to have a codename is never made clear.

Working as an assistant to Dr. Keldermans allows her to break curfew whilst the doctor’s surgery is a useful place to temporarily store airmen in transit. Lisa’s uncle and aunt – Gaston and Louise – also make an appearance. Gaston is a key Lifeline member (handling documents) whilst Louise, apparently, remains ignorant about her niece’s and husband’s extra-curricular activities.

Over in Britain, Flight Lt. John Curtis, who has knowledge of Lifeline’s work, prepares to return to Brussels in order to act as a liaison between the escape line and the airmen.

On the German side, there’s Major Erwin Brandt, the cliché of the ‘good German’ – a Luftwaffe officer who – whilst keen to capture all the British airmen he can – has a humane streak. No such humanity can be detected in Sturmbannführer Ludwig Kessler – the newly assigned Gestapo officer for the area.

As I said, that’s quite a hefty cast list (not to mention today’s guest artistes who also have to be catered for).

Particular highlights today include Bernard Hepton’s weary Albert (juggling a wife and a lover, not to mention escaping airmen, obviously isn’t good for the nerves) and the early conflict between Brandt and Kessler.

At certain points in the series, the Germans emerge as the more interesting and three-dimensional characters and we get an early taste of that here. The episode opens with Brandt and his men searching a farmhouse for a suspected evader – they find nothing, but take the farmer and his wife away for questioning (leaving two young children behind). After they’ve gone, Natalie escapes from her hiding place (those German soldiers weren’t very good then) and tells the children that their parents will be home soon. Her words seem brittle and unconvincing, but when Albert agrees it’s likely, we feel a little better.

But our optimism turns out to be misplaced as Kessler later tells Brandt that he’s shipped all four members of the family to a concentration camp. Even though it happens off screen, it still has quite an impact. This moment ties into a comment earlier in the episode where a fairly boisterous airman is told that if he’s caught he’ll be sent to a prisoner of war camp – but those who have helped him will more than likely be killed. It’s an early reminder of just how high the stakes are for every member of Lifeline and their associates.

It’s also established that Lifeline have no connection with the resistance or any other escape routes. This helps to keep them safe but also isolates them.

If anybody suffers for lack of characterisation in this episode then it’s the British airmen. They’re fairly anonymous types – although one stands out a little (because he’s played by Neil Dickson, later to portray the ultimate WW1 flying ace, Biggles).

Kenneth Ives’ direction has a few unusual touches, such as the handheld camerawork when Curtis returns to the Candide and is questioned by a suspicious Lisa (offhand I can’t remember a great deal of handheld camerawork in this era of vt drama).

Although they’ve barely had time to become acquainted, already the enmity between Kessler and Brandt is simmering away nicely. On observing Kessler’s departure to personally locate evading British airmen, Brandt is mildly amused. “Isn’t there a saying about having a dog and barking oneself?”

Kessler icily counters that he bites rather than barks and follows this up by stating that “I suspect there is one fundamental difference between us. My work matters to me”. Not the beginning of a beautiful friendship then, but the conflict between them (sometimes open, sometimes concealed) will provide the motor which drives many episodes during Secret Army‘s first two series.

There’s a lot to enjoy in John Brason’s Sergeant on the Run, even if certain parts (which I’ll get to in a minute) are rather baffling. Positives first. There’s a noticeable shift in tone from the series’ opening episode in terms of how the escaping airman are portrayed. In Willis Hall’s script everyone seemed to treat it as a bit of lark, but that’s certainly not the case here.

A fair amount of this episode was shot on film. Director Viktors Ritelis certainly makes his mark during a lengthy film sequence set in a café. Three extremely nervous British airmen are waiting to be collected – all they have to do is act naturally, but even that seems beyond them.

You could argue that Ritelis’ work is a little showy and obvious (a close up on a fly trapped in some flypaper mirroring the desperation of the airmen as they see enemies all around them) but all these visual touches manage to create a sense of tension and unease which – due to the length of the scene – becomes almost unbearable.

When eventually the airmen are spotted by some German soldiers, two make a break for it and are shot dead. The third, Sergeant Walker (Martin Burrows), hides and eventually slips away.

My first query is why the Germans didn’t seem to realise that there were three suspects not two. There were three meals on the table, so why not hunt for the missing third man? Maybe they were just happy with shooting two ….

Given the episode title, we’re now set up to assume that Walker’s evasion from capture will be the focus of the story from now on. Well, not really. After some more disorientating film work he’s rather easily picked up and delivered into Kessler’s hands.

Burrows excels at teasing out Walker’s character – he’s no laconic hero, rather he’s a bewildered and frightened young man desperately searching for a way out.  When he spies that there’s no guard on the door (yes, really – Kessler’s security leaves a lot to be desired) he makes a break for it. Having only got a few hundred yards he chucks himself over the stairwell, plummeting down multiple floors, rather than face recapture.

This is another well executed film sequence – not only Walker’s fall (which looks pretty convincing) but also its sequel, where an incensed Kessler attempts to question the bloody and broken Sergeant while an appalled Brandt looks on. Their brief battle of wills – won by Brandt who orders an ambulance – is another of those moments that’s a gift for both Culver and Rose.

Another plot oddity is that our first glance at Walker in hospital shows him to be in a pretty bad way – a bandaged leg in traction, arm in a sling, neckbrace – and yet shortly afterwards he’s lost all of these things and looks pretty much like his old self. And then a scene or two later he’s beginning to walk with crutches and gets on with them so well that he’s able to hotfoot it away from the doctor (Brandt’s guards – like Kessler’s – seem woefully inadequate).

Whilst all this is going on, the Candide regulars are beginning to enjoy some more character development. Albert and Monique share a nice relaxed scene in which Albert wistfully recalls the first time they met (this brief moment of peace is rudely interrupted by the angry knocking of Albert’s bed-ridden wife). We don’t actually see her in this episode, but then we don’t need to – just the banging and Monique’s anguish at being the mistress of a man still guiltily devoted to his wife tells us all we need to know.

The end of the episode feels like it could have done with a redraft, but since John Brason was also the series’ script editor he had no-one to blame but himself. Walker, having endured a nightmarish travelogue, hasn’t found anyone to help him (his inability to speak the language being a bit of a problem). Having collapsed on the street in despair, he’s immediately collected by two ambulance men.

In the next and final scene Albert tells the others that Walker is dead – shot with a German bullet. Since we’ve already seen Albert preparing a gun, the inference is clear (Walker, a weak man who knows far too much about the escape line, has been silenced for the good of Lifeline). 

What’s slightly jarring is the fact that Albert didn’t seem to be present when Walker was picked up, not to mention that if they’d got him to the ambulance, surely they then could have taken him to a safe house (no German soldiers seemed to be in the area).

Albert as killer is a powerful way to end the episode, demonstrating even this early on that he’s quite prepared to do any dirty work that’s required (it won’t be the last time either). It’s just a pity that the moment seems slightly bungled – and this, not to mention the way the Germans lose Walker twice, slightly drags the episode down.

A pity, because otherwise it’s a taut tale thanks to Martin Burrows’ turn as Walker. Surprising that his film and television credits were so slight (seven other roles between 1977 and 1982) as he more than holds his own here.

Curtis, having played a relatively minor role in the previous episode, now steps to the forefront. His relationship with the escape line – most notably Lisa and Albert – is still (to put it mildly) an uneasy one. The reason for Lisa’s antipathy is teased out across the course of the episode and by the end they appear to reached an uneasy truce. Albert is a different matter though – he’s quite prepared (if Lisa gives to word) to have Curtis killed. Fortunately for Curtis, the word isn’t given ….

Gaston Colbert (played by James Bree) also enjoys his first major chunk of screentime. Bree was an actor who could, at times, tip over into embarrassingly histrionic playing (see Doctor Who – The War Games) or high camp (see Softly Softly: Task Force – Justice). His SA role is quite different though – it’s subtle, underplayed and very impressive.

Gaston’s links with Curtis – providing him with papers to pass onto a Jewish family and handling British funds which turn out to be forged – helps to keep him in the thick of the action.

Although their total screentime isn’t more than a few minutes, it’s the desperate Jewish family, led by Michael Burrell as Schliemann, who leave an indelible mark in the memory (as well as providing the episode with its title). The Germans are deporting vast numbers of Jews in strict order – by the colour of their identity cards. Gaston hopes to buy the Schliemanns a little extra time by giving them new cards in a “safe” colour.

After Curtis and Lisa hand over the cards, a clearly moved Schliemann offers both of them a treat – a small radish on a plate. Lisa politely declines but Curtis accepts with alacrity, wolfing down the radish (despite the fact there’s no butter) with every sign of genuine enjoyment.  As he says later, he knew that it was all they had but he felt compelled not to refuse – had he done so then Schliemann would have been robbed of his last small shred of dignity.

This scene of squalid despair can be contrasted with Kessler and Brandt’s convivial (on  the surface anyway) coffee meeting – with real coffee and English biscuits (not named, but they’re clearly bourbons). The Kessler/Brandt conflict takes a back seat today, but it’s still clearly bubbling away – the fact that Kessler ends the episode by opening a secret Gestapo file on his colleague indicates that things are only going to get worse.

Later, there’s one more scene with the Schliemanns as Curtis returns with some meagre supplies and a small tub of butter for their radishes. Once again Schliemann is pathetically grateful, even more so when Curtis tells them that there might be a chance for them to escape Brussels.

It won’t be via Lifeline as they – for good operational reasons – don’t take Jews but despite this, Curtis can’t help but angrily ask Lisa if she doesn’t care about their fate. This doesn’t help their already bumpy relationship ….

There’s no one plotline which dominates in Radishes with Butter. Curtis inadvertently passing over forged money to Lifeline is another subplot (as is Kesser’s unsuccessful attempt to find the forgers).  The plight of the Jews also bubbles away – with some discussion about their ultimate fate (everyone seems aware that the concentration camps they’re being sent to are just a cover) – whilst there’s also an RAF evader, Vidler (Anthony Smee), to be dealt with.

Vidler isn’t too important a character in his own right – he exists mainly to bring Lisa and Curtis closer together. When the Germans close in on Vidler’s hiding place, all three are forced to flee across the rooftops. This sequence – shot on film and at night – clearly would have cost a fair bit and helps to give the episode a little gloss (although if one were being cynical, you could say that it’s also a good way to pad out the running time).

This scene almost ends in farce when Lisa misses her footing, slides down the roof and ends up hanging by her fingertips (with nothing but a sheer drop beneath her). There’s some not entirely convincing back projection in this scene (showing the Germans on the ground) and it also puzzles me that the Germans fail to notice the dangling Lisa. Were they blind or simply not very efficient?

Curtis, of course, hauls her to safety and you can probably guess what happens next. They lock eyes and then lock lips (thankfully there’s no corny swell of incidental music).  Lisa later regrets this moment of madness and later tells Curtis that there can be nothing between them, recounting her own backstory (just one tragic tale amongst so many).

Another occurs at the end of the story when Curtis learns that the next batch of Jews to be deported includes the Schliemanns. He rushes to try and save them, but he’s too late – the only sign that they were ever in their room is a plate with a couple of discarded radishes and a dab of butter.

Radishes with Butter is a really good character piece for both Curtis and Lisa, with Gaston also benefiting. The silent menace of the Germans – invading the Candide to haul out another unfortunate – is also effective as is the continuing enmity between Kessler and Brandt. Three episodes in and the series is now really up and running.

Brandt is given an article written by an American airman who escaped over the Pyrenees. Although the writer changed many details in order to safeguard the identities of the people who helped him, Brandt still believes that he can use it to pinpoint the escape line. So he travels into the French countryside, meeting up with a policeman called Malaud (Ian McCulloch) ….

If you watch enough of Gerard Glaister’s series, then you’ll see the same faces cropping up time and time again. That’s evident today, as Child’s Play’s key role is taken by Ian McCulloch, who had previously appeared in the Colditz episode Odd Man In.

Coincidentally (or maybe not) both episodes were written by Arden Winch.  This would be his only Secret Army credit, but he’d work with Glasiter again (in 1981 for example, writing the six-part thriller Blood Money which starred a gaggle of former Secret Army actors – Bernard Hepton, Juliet Hammond-Hill and Stephen Yardley).

Child’s Play is an oddly static tale. Several lengthy two-handed scenes between McCulloch and Michael Culver take up a fair amount of its running time – but whilst on the surface everything seems fairly mundane (Brandt and Malaud slowly debating where the safe house could be) the combative interaction between them is very nicely done.

Unlike Kessler, Brandt is conciliatory – happy to pay for information that leads to the arrest of British airmen. Malaud, a capable officer exiled to a countryside backwater because of his ‘crime’ of speaking his mind, seems initially reluctant to help – but eventually does so. Not for money (to Brandt’s surprise) but simply as a way of proving to his superiors that he’s still a good policeman.

Malaud is outspoken in his loathing of the Gestapo (understandable, since they’d previously pulled out his fingernails). Kesller wouldn’t have stood for this sort of talk, but Brandt (of the Luftwaffe) just lets it go by. It’s an early indication that Brandt is no fanatical Nazi, unlike his Brussels colleague.

We meet Sophie and Madeline Chantal (Mary Barclay and Ruth Gower) for the first time. A pair of elderly sisters, they’re an important link the escape route – Madeline is the suspicious one, whilst Sophie is warm-hearted and welcoming (always keen to greet new airmen and sorry when they have to leave so suddenly).

As for today’s airmen (played by Jonathan Coy, Jonathan Darvill, Nigel Greaves and Richard Reeves) they’re fairly anonymous types – albeit several are rather boisterous and irritating. Maybe this was intentional, although it means that when Brandt and Malaud capture them I can’t confess to being too upset.

Thankfully they’d left Sophie and Madeline by then, so at least the sisters live to fight another day.

Given that earlier in the episode Malaud was very pessimistic about locating the safehouse, it seems a little hard to swallow that he later pinpoints it without too much trouble. But it does mean that the pace dramatically lifts during last fifteen minutes, as Lisa is forced to abandon the airmen to their fate whilst she goes into hiding with Baroja (Ken Stott). Later, they’re discovered by Malaud ….

Back in Brussels there’s not too much to report. An unseen Andree contains to cast long shadows over Albert and Monique. It’s fascinating that she won’t actually reappear in person until episode thirteen, but a few knocks on the ceiling means that her presence is still well and truly felt today.

James Bree and Maria Charles share a nice scene in which, once again, Louise expresses her fears for her husband and her niece. In retrospect, knowing how things turn out, these moments carry a little extra weight.

Thanks to Ian McCulloch in full-on brood mode, Child’s Play isn’t without interest. It’s not the best that the series had to offer, but Arden Winch was one of those writers who, over the course of twenty years or so, contributed to a varied selection of drama series, so any examples of his work will always be of interest.  It’s slightly surprising that he never wrote for SA again, as his work on, say, Manhunt and Colditz suggest it would have suited him very well.

Rear-gunner Eric Finch (Paul Copley) is seeking refuge in Switzerland (Finch, sickened by the war, is determined not to return to England to fight again). A bargeman called Hans Van Broecken (Gunnar Möller) offers to help, but can he be trusted?

An uncompromising episode, from early on there’s an air of doom that settles around Eric Finch. Injured, weary and frightened, he’s a far cry from most of the airmen we’ve met in the series so far. One or two have been a touch on the nervy side, but in the main they’ve all been rather gung-ho and blithely unconcerned about their fate.

Another British airman, Alan (Richard Austin) who briefly features today, certainly falls into this latter category. Sidelined with a foot injury, he’s anxious to get up and about but still has time to flirt with Lisa (surprisingly, Lisa is quite keen to respond – which is the first time we’ve seen her in quite so playful a mood).

There’s no such jollity with Finch though, who’s deftly brought to life thanks to Paul Copley’s sensitive performance. Late on in the episode he’s given a very decent speech in which he outlines his philosophy – not only to Van Broecken and his wife, Lena (Marianne Stone) but also to Natalie and Curtis who have been brought in to try and help.

Matching Copley’s fine performance, are two equally good turns from Gunnar Möller and Marianne Stone. To begin with, both Finch and the viewer at home might be unsure whether Hans can be trusted – he claims he wants to help, but at times he casts a sinister shadow. This is only heightened when he reveals that he’s not, as he initially claimed, Dutch but is in fact German. But as a German deserter from the First World War, he’s able to sympathise instantly with the slightly crumpled and pathetic figure of Finch.

Lena is more fearful though – not only for herself and her husband should Finch be discovered, but she’s also been worn down by the strain of Hans’ double life over the last twenty years or more.

Hans and Lena will both return later in the series, but Finch is less fortunate – coldly sacrificed by Lifeline in order that they can strengthen their reputation with the German authorities. It’s a chilling moment, although it’s only afterwards that a few questions bubble to the surface – most notably, what would have happened if Finch hadn’t been shot dead? Had the Gestapo questioned him, it’s certain he would have revealed all he knew about the escape line (Curtis, Natalie, etc) so surely Curtis was running an incredible risk by betraying him.

But on the positive side, it means that Gestapo man Dupont (David Trevena) is now be happy that the Candide is a hotbed of collaborators and will no longer keep them under surveillance. The future ghost of Allo! Allo! is strong with Dupont – maybe it’s the hat or the spectacles, but there’s something unintentionally comic about him. Oh, and why choose an undercover man who sticks out a mile as he does? Yes, maybe that has its positives, but surely selecting someone who blends in just a little would have been more sensible.

Other brief items to report – Hetty Baynes makes her first appearance as bitchy Candide waitress Yvonne (Yvonne and Monique entertain themselves by spitting fire at each other), Monique sings for the first time and Curtis and Lisa continue to enjoy an awkward relationship – not least because of the possible feelings each has for the other.

Second Chance is quite an ironic title, as Finch was denied one. The way the Candide regulars react to his death is quite instructive – Monique is shaken whilst Curtis confesses to feeling rather sick. On the other hand, Albert, Lisa and Natalie appear to shrug it off more easily. Natalie is by far the most outspoken, telling the others that they risk their lives to get airmen back to the UK (since Finch didn’t want to fight any more, he now has his wish).

Whether she’s really so ruthless or is simply good at compartmentalising her feelings is something that the viewer will have to decide for themselves. The first of a handful of Secret Army scripts by James Andrew Hall, the quality of this one suggests that the others will be worth looking out for.

A downed airman, Sgt. Clifford Howson (Norman Eshley), is injured and hiding out in the countryside. By chance, a young boy called Jean-Paul Dornes (Max Harris) finds him and promises to do all he can to help …

Growing Up is very much a story of two halves. Initially, the tone is quite subdued with only a low level of tension as Cliff befriends Jean-Paul (or is it the other way around?) and the pair quickly bond. Jean-Paul’s wide-eyed admiration not only for the heroes of the RAF but also for his countrymen’s underground struggles against the Germans is plain to see. But as the episode title suggests, the time will come when Jean-Paul will be forced to learn that not everything is quite as black and white as it first appears.

The first discordant note sounds when the boy returns home and discovers a German soldier, Corporal Emil Schnorr (Brian Glover), chatting easily with his mother, Anna (Susan Tracy). Glover did just about everything during his career – seasons with the National Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company, a stint as an all-in wrester (Leon Arras, the man from Paris), a number of writing credits (including several Play for Todays), not to mention an impressive list of television credits (both dramas and comedies).

The relationship between Anna and Schnorr quickly develops (one criticism would be that it’s rather too quick).  But on the other hand, Glover and Tracy share a very nice scene in which their characters open their hearts and discuss the things they have in common (both are widowers). And although Schnorr appears intimidating at times towards Jean-Paul it seems that, at heart, the German is a kindly man (he’s no rabid Nazi – instead he comes across as someone keen to learn a trade and better himself).

Max Harris is the glue which holds the story together. This is a big ask for such a young actor (although he already had television experience – most notably The Phoenix and the Carpet a few years earlier). The scenes he shares with Norman Eshley are well played by both of them and it seems that an experienced actor like Eshley brought out the best in him.

Holed up in a remote quarry, eventually Cliff is reached by Lisa and Albert (as happens so often, despite being a secret organisation someone always seems to be able to contact Lifeline as and when required). There then follows a slightly strained part of the episode – due to his leg injury Cliff is unable to walk, so Lisa pretends that he’s fallen from a horse and needs help. That’s just about reasonable, but by a remarkable coincidence they stumble across Anna and Schnorr who are out for a walk. What were the chances of that?

With Cliff now safely in Brussels, the danger seems over. But in fact the story has yet to really kick into gear. Anna discovers the RAF badge gifted to Jean-Paul by a grateful Cliff and flies into a rage. This is another slightly odd sequence. Although everything we’ve seen so far suggests that Anna, if not an active collaborator, is very keen not to get involved with the war anymore, why does she feel compelled to report this to the German authorities?

With Cliff no longer in the area, had she kept quiet then there would have been no way for anyone to connect the airman to her son. Possibly you can argue that she was keen to inveigle herself into Schnorr’s good books (she sets out to lay the whole matter before him) but that’s not quite how it plays. Possibly a little tightening of the script would have helped here.

Events then take a tragic turn when, on her way to the barracks, Anna is run down by a member of the resistance (played by Stanley Lebor) thus silencing her for ever. Luckily, for Jean-Paul’s peace of mind, he seems unaware that he was indirectly responsible (after his mother left, a tearful Jean-Paul went to the resistance man’s house). This part of the script also doesn’t quite play right – not least in terms of the timescale.

But minor niggles apart, the aftermath (an impressively mounted funeral with a distraught Jean-Paul) certainly carries an emotional punch. And the graveside rapprochement between Jean-Paul and Schnorr is another stand-out moment. Although there’s no dialogue, Harris and Glover are both at their best here. Schnorr literally becomes a shoulder to cry on and as the pair leave the cemetery hand in hand (Jean-Paul only slightly pausing to toss away the RAF badge – a symbol of his past life) we’re left with the strong impression of a growing bond between a surrogate father and son.

Willis Hall’s second SA script, Growing Up possibly could have done with some editing and redrafting in places, but the human drama at its heart is still compelling.