It wasn't until the week of Wallace Deane Devereux's funeral that his friends and family discovered a grainy, black-and-white photograph on a Web site for former Royal Air Force personnel.

Wallace Deane Devereux, as a World War II Royal Air Force pilot.

In it, the young British pilot grimaces as he lies wounded in a rubber dinghy on the North Sea, rowing himself toward the German forces who would rescue him and hold him prisoner for the next four years.

It was August 1942, and Mr. Devereux had been flying solo reconnaissance missions behind enemy lines when his Spitfire aircraft, armed only with cameras and film, was picked up on radar and shot down.

Shot in the leg and hit by shrapnel, Mr. Devereux was hospitalized before being taken to Stalag Luft III, a Nazi POW camp in the forests of Sagan, Poland. The camp, specially built to hold the growing numbers of POW airmen, later became famous for "The Great Escape," when 76 Allied prisoners made a daring and elaborate escape through a 300-foot tunnel. Only three prisoners made it to safety; the rest were recaptured. In a rage, Hitler had 50 of them executed.

In a prison lottery to determine who would escape first, Mr. Devereux was No. 180. He was inside the tunnel when German guards discovered the plan.

His extraordinary experiences during the war shaped him, said son Wayne Devereux.

"He wasn't a real mover and shaker, but he put his footprint squarely on this earth with his love and his compassion," said Devereux. "I think the POW experience brought him a level of caring and kindness that most people don't share."

Mr. Devereux, who lived in the Ingomar area of McCandless, died Sunday after a long illness. He was 84.

While a prisoner at Stalag Luft III, Mr. Devereux studied industrial management by reading books by E.T. Elbourne. When he was freed after the war, he made his career in the aluminum industry. Devereux and his wife, Jane, immigrated to the United States in 1957, and the family moved to Pittsburgh in 1983 when Devereux got a job with National Aluminum Corp.

Before he volunteered for World War II, Devereux "had the world at his feet," said John Blanchflower of Fox Chapel, a longtime friend and fellow Englishman.

The son of a well-connected aluminum tycoon and a student at Cambridge University, one of the oldest and most prestigious educational institutions in the world, he was set to begin a distinguished academic career.

But at a time when Hitler's armies had swept across Europe, leaving Britain alone and vulnerable to invasion, Mr. Devereux gave everything up to join the Royal Air Force.

Blanchflower described his friend as "an English gentleman -- quiet, tall, distinguished looking, with a cultivated accent." His mother died in an auto accident when he was a boy, Blanchflower said, and his oldest brother was killed in World War II when he hopped out of his airplane the wrong way and hit the propeller.

Mr. Devereux piloted a Spitfire, the first all-metal British monoplane fighter, constructed in part from the lightweight "wonder metal" that his father helped to manufacture. It was specially modified, stripped of all its firepower and equipped with only film, cameras and fuel.

Photo reconnaissance pilots were given strict orders to maintain radio silence, and to never bring back unused film, because it was so expensive, Blanchflower said.

Being a dutiful officer, Mr. Devereux made a diversion after a reconnaissance mission, flying off toward Helgoland, an island off the coast of Germany, to take more photos. "The Germans picked him up on their radar," said Blanchflower. "Two fighters got after him, and this detour gave them time to catch him."

Mr. Devereux had always resolved that if he was ever shot down, he would stay with his plane, Blanchflower said.

"If you fell in that water, you'd freeze to death," he said. "But when he saw that water coming up, he changed his mind."

Mr. Devereux bailed out, injuring himself further when one of his restraining straps failed to give. He immediately availed himself of the brandy contained in his emergency pack, Blanchflower said, and prepared for capture.

Mr. Devereux was later taken to the German commander, who stood up, clicked his heels together, gave the salute, "Heil Hitler," and waited for a response from Mr. Devereux. "God Save the King," Mr. Devereux replied.

"It sounds so corny now, but those were wonderful days, days of sacrifice and honor," Blanchflower said.

Mr. Devereux met his wife when her father, an executive in the aluminum industry, was visiting his father at their home. She noticed that Mr. Devereux was a little withdrawn after his years in Stalag Luft III.

"They passed each other in the hallway," said Wayne Devereux. "Mom saw Dad and said, 'That's the man I'm going to marry.' "

The Devereuxs had three children. He spent 16 years working for the aluminum division of Olin Corp.

"If you wanted to be bored to tears, ask him about aluminum," his son joked.

He was "one heck of a workaholic," but Mr. Devereux was also a boxer, swimmer, horseback rider and devoted family man, his son said. The family bought a 110-acre farm in Ohio, and he would go swimming nearly every day, "even when it was snowing."

He kept the memorabilia from his war days, like the letter he wrote to the air ministry volunteering for duty, and the telegraph to his family informing them he was missing in action.

The Devereuxs recently celebrated their 56th anniversary, said Wayne Devereux. At the end, "although my father could barely feed himself, in fact, he couldn't even swallow, when he opened his eyes and saw my mother, the very few words he could say were, 'You look lovely.' "

Mr. Devereux is survived by his wife; daughter Dina of McCandless; sons Wayne of Lusby, Md., and Ian of McCandless; sisters Marguerite Evans of Hampshire, England, and Joan Ulyatt of Byron Bay, Australia; and brother Robert of Buckinghamshire, England.

Funeral services are at 11 a.m. today at Simons Funeral Home, 7720 Perry Highway, Ross, with burial in Ingomar United Methodist Church cemetery.