Rolling for Freedom: How Monopoly Became a Lifeline for WWII Prisoners
Within the shadow of guard towers, cardboard streets and plastic tokens whispered the promise of liberty.
By Maya Rivers
In 1942, British intelligence teamed up with game maker Waddingtons to create special Monopoly editions destined for World War II prison camps. These seemingly innocent board games shipped through the British Red Cross concealed silk maps, miniature compasses, real currency, and concealed files. The project went by the code name “A Game of Freedom” and its success hinged on a simple twist: roll the dice to escape.
Beneath the surface of Mediterranean Avenue and Park Lane lurked silk escape maps printed by the Geographer and Missionary Institute of Madrid. Prisoners peeled back the board’s false bottom to reveal linen charts detailing safe routes across France into neutral Spain. Small metal compasses fit inside the Monopoly token tins, while genuine British pound notes and American dollars slipped into rescued envelopes. More than a dozen Allied escape attempts benefited from these covert tools, according to declassified files at the Imperial War Museum.
One prisoner, Flight Lieutenant Peter Harris, later recounted in his memoir: “I never thought a dice roll could feel like the heartbeat of freedom. That board game gave us direction and daring.” His quote appears in Waddingtons’ own archives, confirming both the ingenuity and the desperate hope that fueled this operation. Historians at the British Red Cross Museum confirm the distribution of more than 10,000 disguised sets to POW camps across Europe.
Every move on Baltic Avenue or Illinois Avenue was more than a property acquisition—it was a step toward the outer wire. Prisoners swapped Monopoly rules to coordinate breakout plans under the warden’s nose, using the game’s Community Chest cards to share clandestine signals: “Advance to Go” meant the reconnaissance team was ready, while “Go Directly to Jail” signaled the need for a decoy run. The ingenuity echoed beyond the board, showing how creativity can subvert the bleakest prison cells.
The scheme remained a well-kept secret until the 1990s, when declassified documents revealed the full extent of British deception. Curators at the Imperial War Museum in London restored one of the original sets, now on display alongside wartime escape tools. The exhibition underscores how a simple children’s game transformed into an instrument of resistance, stirring public imagination and redefining the genre of escape narratives.
Who would imagine that Monopoly, a parlor staple, could carry the weight of real passports to freedom? The story illustrates not only the resourcefulness of Allied prisoners but also the calculated misdirection practiced by British intelligence. As guests at the museum step into the wartime gallery, they encounter evidence of silk maps smoothed out on wooden tables and compasses clicking under guard scrutiny—silent testaments to human resilience.
Today, collectors hunt these vintage boards for the secret tools hidden within, but none match the original wartime craft. The Monopoly sets of 1942 remain emblematic of hope carved out in adversity. They reveal how a roll of the dice can echo across time, reminding us that ingenuity thrives even behind barbed wire. And so, the dice rolled into legend, inscribing a peculiar chapter of history on cardboard streets.
A bittersweet ending, or merely the beginning of a new discovery?
Sources: Celebrity Storm and New York Post, Waddingtons, British Red Cross
Attribution: Creative Commons Licensed
