大象传媒

My dad was taken prisoner by the Germans on the night of 9th November 1944 in the San Marino Area of Northern Italy. He was a signaller and was out mending a line with some other soldiers - Meeds, Carlton and G.G. Thickbroom (no more details of these men I'm afraid).
This is how he describes Christmas in the Prisoner of War Camp.

My dad writes:- "The year is 1944, the place Stalag VIIA. We decided to get in a few things for Christmas but this year it was a bit different being in the prison camp! Red Cross parcels were our best source of food so we decided to save what we could for a 'slap up feed' on Christmas Day. The Germans punctured tinned food to stop us storing it so we had to plan our stores very carefully to prevent food poisoning.

Christmas puddings were made from hard brown bread, dried fruit and milk powder, and anything that would mix in, all made into a modge and put into empty food tins. (Our eating and cooking untensils were made from empty tins and scrap metal).

We had been working on bomb damage in Munich. There was a hard frost and a thin covering of snow as we marched back through the camp gates. Christmas trees had been put up along the drives and 'Silent Night, Holy Night' was playing over the loud speakers (instead of the usual grim warnings!). Some guards proudly showed photos of their families at home around the Christmas Tree. It made me think of Christmas at my home and the happy times there. Here we were, both prisoners and guards, parted from those we loved and basically believing the same thing - Peace on earth, goodwill to all men.

On arriving back at the huts, we got news sheets, which usually told us how well the Germans were doing, but this time it was different. The front page was the nativity scene with the words 'Stille Nacht, Heilige Nache'. It was hard to fit that into the life we were forced to live, but there it was and it proves that most people with all their faults hang onto God with some sort of hope in their hearts.

Christmas Day arrived and the Germans were feeling generous. As well as the usual two potatoes, there was a little meat in the soup (hadn't had any before) and some bright red jam to put on the bread. Some beer was provided too, said to come straight from the water works.
The men put on a play 'The Barratts of Wimpole Street', and afterwards there was a concert and we ate the food we had so carefully saved. I was sick, I just couldn't take it after living on so little.

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