大象传媒

An account of a month long march from Stalag 8C near Breslau by the late Mr. John Lesley Sorsby of the 1st Parachute Regiment to freedom.

Submitted with the permission of Mrs. W. E. Sorsby

鈥淚t was the morning of the 16th February the barn where we had kipped down for the night had been warm if nothing else. Whilst scouting around as was our wont to do on every chance we had, we found a clutch of eggs. Our ration was three between six of us. How do you share three eggs between six hungry blokes? There was no chance at all of cooking them. Reg came up with an idea; why don鈥檛 we suck them; make a hole in either end and suck, hopefully to get half each. You can imagine what happened!! Picture the head tilted back, one suck and plop! Three men satisfied - three men otherwise. Another good idea gone by the board. Before we left Weify or some such name, we had the 鈥榗offee鈥� and slice of bread and margarine. When we got out onto the road, covered up as best we could, we all realised the weather had turned a little warmer. In such circumstances, when the temperature rises, so does ones spirits. At the first opportunity we rolled up our gas capes and extras and carried them. It meant we had something to sit on during the ten-minute breaks.

About midday we had a stop by the side of a field of Brussel sprouts. A lot of empty stalks and been pulled up and dumped near the roadside. Sidling up to them I saw as always clusters of small sprouts at the very top of the stalk. Now if you had once tried eating grass and mangold, wurzels, surely raw sprouts would taste alright! The guards at this stage didn鈥檛 seem to mind as long as you didn鈥檛 stray too far from the road. As usual a lot of us took advantage and when the order came for us to move on quite a few were carrying sprout stalks. The inside of a sprout stalk is called the 鈥榩ith鈥� and is very tasty. Like eating raw cauliflower. Personally I like raw vegetables.

After a much better day we reached a place called Oschaty where there were a lot of German soldiers around. As we stood waiting for orders a company of German Infantry marched by. The leading sixteen to twenty men were singing a marching song. It sounded grand, just like a choir. Later we were told that when the German troops go on a march there鈥檚 always singing by the front ranks. We could have done with something like that to liven us up. Since leaving Sagan on the 8th February we had not heard any news as to how the war was going on.

We had covered about 26 kilometres and were ready for a rest. The crowd I was in were ushered into a large building at least 75 yards long and almost 30 yards wide. The bottom eight foot of the sides and ends were covered in but the top half was open to the elements. There was a roof on, of course. There must have been at least a foot or so depth of peat or bark of some sort. We decided it must be an Army riding school. We settled don on the old gas cape, levelling out the peat as we did so. There were traces which confirmed our theory that it was a riding school.

Instead of the usual 鈥楽killy鈥� we had our tins filled with Hungarian goulash, with actual meat in and a slice of bread. We did very well that evening.

It was a well lit place and there was plenty of chatter and noise. How many were in that place I鈥檝e no idea. It gave us enough room without being crowded. At eight the lights were cut down a bit and then at nine were all put out. There was a horsey smell about when we lay down, but with the fresh air coming in above us it soon wafted away and we slept quite reasonably well. We were awake early next morning to what appeared to be a fine day and after coffee, break and a piece of cheese we were on the road again. Things seemed pretty peaceful and the scenery around about us was magnificent. It would have been more appreciated in different conditions. It was rumoured amongst us that we could be marching through Bavaria. We had nothing to go on, but the rumours kept us interested and they helped us while away the time. We covered just over 18 kilometres that day. Not so bad.

I don鈥檛 think I have mentioned before, but when we left Sagan at the start of the march, there were 2,000 or so of us. You can imagine the problems that arose arranging over night stops. It meant that the column had to be split up at the end of each day鈥檚 march. Quite an uneventful night at this place - plenty of straw in the barn.

The next day the 18th, was colder but dry and again the scenery was nice. My stick was coming in very useful helping me to trudge along. Quite a number of the lads also had sticks of different shapes and sizes. We must have looked a real old ragtime lot. By early afternoon we had done 18 kilometres and came to a halt on the outskirts of a place called Gummer something or other. More Army barracks but no riding school this time, just a big garage with all the vehicles taken out. It was every man for himself. It was a bit smelly but out of the biting wind. By the time we had sorted ourselves out it was time for the 鈥楽killy鈥� and a slice of bread. The taste did not vary very much, if you were lucky you found bits floating around in it but it was usually hot. Some of the lads had cards with them and we were able to play until lights out.

A few Polish soldiers were among our lot and they were able to converse with the German guards. They would bargain with the guards and try to get food or fags. Some managed to get a few extras. I never had anything to bargain with except my Red Beret. The Germans wanted them for souvenirs - I鈥檝e still got mine, not many of the lads parted with their 鈥楤erries鈥�. It was more or less regarded as a crime.

We set off next morning the 19th according to my list, the weather was fair and the day passed nicely. We finished the march after 20 kilometres and came upon a village on a hillside. Either side of the road on the entrance to the village there was a statue of the 鈥榁irgin Mary鈥�, each at least eight feet high. Also along the road there were statues and Icons of varying sizes. As we marched through the village there were people at almost every door and street corner. I got the feeling that they were offering a Prayer for us as they kept crossing themselves with the Sign of the Cross.

What happened the next morning, the 20th February will remain within my memory for ever. As we were leaving the village every member of the community turned out dressed in black and made their way to the Church. We got it officially from the guards that they were going to Church to pray for our safety and well being.

We their enemy.
WHAT PRICE FORGIVENESS!!!!

We left the village of Statues and Icons with a great feeling of wonderment and awe that total strangers could be thinking of our plight with such concern. The countryside was still very lovely, the sun was shining by mid-morning. The world could have been at peace, especially after our experience the previous morning.

During the ten minute break at mid-day almost everyone had finished their rations. Gerry always seemed to make his last at least a couple of hours longer and as he munched away at the last little bit he always made a bit of a show of it, mainly for our benefit as by that time we had hunger pangs again.

Very often as we passed through a village some of the people would come out with buckets of water for us to dip in our drinking utensils; in nearly every case did they have a smile and a nod of the head as they said, 鈥榁asser, drink!鈥�

One occasion was the exception: we had SS guards for some reason or other and no sooner had the villagers put down the buckets of water than the jackboots came into action, kicking over the buckets, it didn鈥檛 matter who got wet. Then they chased the villagers indoors, shouting and obviously swearing and swinging their rifle butts. We were not feeling too brave either as many times before the guards had charged through the ranks carrying off like that. I made sure I always got in the middle file so that someone had to be passed if they were making for me.

By around four o鈥檆lock we arrived at a place called Audizst or something like that. It only seemed to be a small place, there was a brickyard and of course, once again 鈥� Kilns. Those of us who were lucky had a warm night. The discipline was more strict that night so we dare not take any liberties. We left early again next morning. I did not know if the guards had been changed or not but even though the weather was nice the guards looked a mean lot.

As you can imagine it was a difficult business when you had a call of nature, quite embarrassing in fact as no one had to go out of sight. I remember this day one lad could not find a bush near enough to the road and he went about 30 yards or so into the scrubland. Nature had to be attended to rather quickly and as he ran a few yards before squatting down behind the bush. The guards were shouting as they obviously thought he was trying to escape. One guard knelt down, his rifle raised to fire a shot. Everyone shouted at him in derision but his mind was made up and he fired and hit the lad in the rear end. Of course there was a scream, we realised he had been hit. We all let the guard know how much we hated his action. Things moved fast and we were made to fall in and we moved off straight away. We heard later that the lad had been taken to hospital. They said it was only a flesh wound 鈥� a likely story I thought!

We had been on the road almost a fortnight, with meagre rations, so you can imagine we had lost some weight and when you do you lose some strength. We were getting desperate to say the least and quite a number dropped out with stomach trouble and dysentery. Of course the shooting incident had not helped any and the morale was pretty low. We eventually came to a farmstead after just over 20 kilometres. The section I was in were ushered into a large barn. Everyone was having a search of the place to see what could be found. Just before darkness fell we heard, 鈥楥luck, cluck鈥�. 鈥楥luck, cluck鈥� and lo and behold about half a dozen hens came trooping in 鈥� it was obviously their roosting place. Three of them never reached the rafters up above, they were silenced immediately and taken to the back of the barn and soon were in a nude state then literally torn from limb from limb and skinned. The barn was pretty crowded towards the entrance the lads all eager to see if any food was to materialise, to the rear the activity was concerned in getting a piece of chicken, no matter if it was raw. I didn鈥檛 get a very big piece. Afterwards I was thankful I didn鈥檛 as everyone who had partaken was violently sick. What made things worse was we only had a thick slice of bread and the usual 鈥榗offee鈥� that night. On top of that we had to try and cover up the traces of our unsuccessful feast, which took quite a bit of doing.

We left early next morning hoping that we would not be found out or hoping that Reynard would get the blame. It was on our minds all day. It wasn鈥檛 a bad day apart from the hunger pangs, we covered 26 kilometres that day. I remember feeling a bit rough that night which I put down to the previous night鈥檚 lesson. Anyway after I had my 鈥楽killy鈥� and bread I felt a little better. The barn we were to sleep in this night was very high up with a great big ladder to climb. It was wide at the bottom and tapered towards the top. There must have been forty rungs on that ladder, quite a way up, don鈥檛 you think? We made it. I remember it was a moonlit night. I think it was the most uncomfortable night I have ever had. It started about midnight, my stomach churning. Down the ladder I had to go. Tried to explain to the guards, they understood my call to nature. Back up the ladder. Down again within the hour and all night long this went on. I really felt weak and sore and at last I hadn鈥檛 the strength to get up the ladder. In the middle of the farmyard there was a big stone water trough for the cattle, needless to say the mud around the trough was almost a foot deep. A guard came with me and he helped me to sit on the edge of the trough with my rear end in the water. What a relief that water gave me.鈥�

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