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I enlisted on 16th February 1940 at Hartshill Barracks, Stoke on Trent, joining 292 Army Field Coy, Royal Engineers. My No. was 2002460.

My initial training was at Pangbourne, Berkshire, where we learnt to build Bailey Bridges. Early in September 1940 we sailed from Liverpool for Egypt on the Liner BRITTANIC. During the voyage I spent my 21st birthday sailing through the Red Sea with 9 pence in my pocket (Pay Day when we landed). This was on October 16th.

On 22nd we landed and were stationed at Alexandria. We saw the pyramids, Sphinx and plenty of camels. When the fighting started our job was to lay water pipes through the desert as our troops moved forward. The sandstorms were unbearable but our troops were successfully overpowering the Italians.

Suddenly we were sent to Greece in late March 1941 sailing on the ULSTER PRINCE. After 3 weeks in Athens where we were feted by the locals we moved to Northern Greece to hold back the invading Germans. Almost immediately we were in retreat having only clapped out Tanks to fight with. There was no air cover and all in all it was the most terrible situation to be in.

My job was to blow bridges after our troops had safely crossed. I remember one instance when hanging from the upright of a bridge fixing explosives, a German plane spotted me and came towards me all guns blazing then came back to have another go. I definitely thought I was going to die that day. I remember saying a prayer that my Mother would know I had gone swiftly and cleanly. But it was not to be and I continued this mad rush south. Sheer chaos everywhere. British, New Zealand and Australian troops were all involved in this hell.

They were all making for Kalamata where they hoped ships would carry them to safety. I didn’t get that far. I arrived in Corinth where two German soldiers informed me the war was over for me. So 4 years as a Prisoner of War began. I was taken to a camp in Corinth where I joined thousands of others.

Life became hard, with very little food -watery soup made with black potatoes and little bread. We were covered in lice and worst of all I had Dysentry. We were kept standing on the parade ground for hours on end in the hot sun. Eventually we were marched to the top of Greece, many falling by the wayside. There we were put into cattle trucks, 50 to 60 of us to a truck. No room to lie down and there were two tins, one for water and the other for toilet. The doors were locked and we travelled for 5 days.

When we reached Belgrade we were allowed out. During this journey we would pull into sidings. On one occasion some Greek girls tried to push bread through the slits in the truck and were promptly shot. We eventually arrived at Wolfsberg in Austria, having travelled the length of Yugoslavia in the cattle truck. We were then taken to a prison camp - Stalag 18A - where we were deloused, had our particulars taken and I was given a No.2654.

After some time I was sent to a Working Camp - GW199 - and was set to work in an open-cast Mine where we had to break stone all day then load it into trucks. There were about 48 of us in a hut high in the Austrian mountains. We had very little food considering we had to work so hard but things began to perk up when, at last, we received Red Cross food parcels. They contained tinned bacon, rice pudding, soap, toothpaste, cigarettes and lots more things. The guards would do anything for a cigarette and so we bribed them to listen to the ´óÏó´«Ã½ news each night which always started with Beethoven’s 5th. If they had been found out they would very likely have been shot.

Towards the end of the war I had an accident in the Mine when a truck came off the rails taking a large piece out of my leg. I was taken by sleigh through the deep snow to a hospital. There they tied me down to the operating table and took 39 pieces of flesh from my thigh and put them into the hole in my leg. I kept trying to lift my head to see what they were doing but they brought a bar across my head so I was trapped. All this without anaesthetic.

They then put my leg in plaster of Paris. Over time this all turned septic and I became very ill, the poison travelling up to my groin causing huge swelling. Fortunately for me, Germany capitulated at that time and American Offices came into the hospital looking for one of their own. There was no American there but the Nurse pointed me out to them. They immediately pumped Penicillin into me and took me to a field hospital.

As my temperature went down so they took me on to the next field hospital. Eventually I arrived in Paris where I stayed for a week to recuperate and get back on my legs. I have to thank the Americans for saving my life. I was then flown to England in a Dakota aircraft, landing at Swindon. I was moved from there during the night and taken to Manor Hospital at Walsall, which was that much nearer to my parents.

Early the next morning a lady carne in asking after the Prisoner of War who had arrived during the night. (How she got to know I don’t know). They pointed me out to her and as she neared my bed she said ‘Oh, you’re not my Simeon’; I said ‘no I’m Ken Millington, but do you mean Simeon France’, ‘yes’ she said ‘he is my son’. Then I told her that I had shared a hut with Simeon for 4 years and that he was fine before I was taken into hospital 3 months previously. What an amazing coincidence!!!

I was then taken into Stratford on Avon hospital which was only 8 miles from where my parents lived. I was there for another 3 months as my wound would not heal.

So ended Kens War.

(This story was told to me, Jean Millington, by Ken when we first met in 1946. We married in 1948, had a daughter and a son and lived happily together until Ken died in October 2002 aged almost 83 having spent 54 years together.)

[The story was entered by Jenni Waugh, ´óÏó´«Ã½ Outreach Officer, on behalf of Mrs Millington, who accepts the site’s terms and conditions.]

To those interested in finding out more about the Greek campaign of 1941, the evacuation from Kalamata and its consequences, Mrs Millington recommends 'Tell Them we Were Here', 2 volumes of allied soldiers' reminiscences collected and edited by Edwin Horlington, President of The Brotherhood of Veterans of the Greek Campaign 1940-41 (Edlington Press, Vol 1 1991. ISBN 0951839306; Vol 2 1998. ISBN 0951839314)

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