大象传媒

HOW I BECAME A P.O.W. ON CRETE

On or about the 1st of June 1940, a group of mixed remnants of Regiments, about 200 in all, were on the beach.
Also sheltering amongst the rocks were about a hundred wounded.
I can vaguely remember two Australians taking me to the beach because my head was bloody so they washed me off in the sea according to them.
I was in a sorry state when they found me knocked out with a wound to my head so they assisted me to the beach.

Because Stukers would come over without warning the wounded were hidden among the rocks and caves,
Anyone who could move under his own steam had to forage for food and assist those that could not move because of wounds.

Water was no problem and I was surprised one day when I saw a bloke with water bottles tied round his middle going off to get water from a spring not far away.
We slept on the beach at night.

The reason for this was that the Submarine, if it did come, would not surface in day light because of the Stuka threat.
We had a lookout system organised, also we would sleep within touching distance of the next man, so if the Sub signaled at night the whole mob could be awakened in total silence and be ready to be taken off in small boats.

Sound at night carries a long way, and we were not going to give a roaming sniper a chance to pick us off one by one.

We had a lookout posted on top of a hill and he would signal with his shirt or at night with a torch.
He was a good whistler but if the wind happened to be blowing the wrong way we wouldn't hear him, hence the shirt.

He would let us know if Stukas were approaching or any other hostile bods, he was also a target for a Jerry sniper, when I pointed this out somebody quietly said, "Better one than all of us, and he knows that".
The second day on the beach a group got together and began repairs to a TLC on the beach.

Another TLC was in a cave farther along the beach, it was also damaged.
The Navy boys who had crewed these two TLC's were definitely dis-chuffed at the male organ who had left them behind.
" Na mate ahm tellin' yer" said one irate Matlo," when we landed on the beach on Crete I just 'appened to look back and an' would you bleedin' Adam an' Eve it, the soddin' Destroyer wus 'eadin' fer the bleedin' horizon mate , flat aht e' were an' all."

Some said he did right to get going before the Stukas came, however some days later a Stuka did come and while he was setting himself up to dive on the TLC stranded on the beach all the lads working on it downed tools and ran for cover.

It was just as well because he put a bomb right through the middle of the TLC and it didn't go off but it made too big a hole to repair.
Later the disappointed repair mob scavenged off it what could be used and repaired the one in the cave.
It was loaded with wounded and got back to Tobruk.
There was also a three masted schooner up on the beach and if you have ever seen ants transporting a dead cockroach this is what it looked like, the similarity ends there because this boat was going nowhere.
There were blokes on the end of a rope tied to the front of the boat and they even had rollers under it,
Some were pushing and there was lots of foreign language flying about.

An old Greek bloke was talking to me and I didn't have a clue what he was raving on about till a little lad maybe six or seven came running up to us and talked to the old man.
The old man pointed at me then the boat then the water and I thought he was blaming me for trying to nick his boat.
Then the little boy had a go at me, him I could make some sense of.

It appeared the boat had been beached some years ago with a view to repairing some of the hull, to quote the little lad, "Boat no swim, on sand too long, big hole in bottom, not good, goodbye.
"I said "Thanks and goodbye" and they left.

The little boy with his hand covered by the old man's fist, I think it was his Grandad,
I shouted "Thanks" again, and the lad turned his head and shouted, "Soright" and waved then they were gone. I wondered where he had learned his English.

Soon it got dark and all that could be heard were the waves pounding on the beach, sometimes the beach can be a very lonely place.

Came the night and we got down to sleep on the beach when with a roar a big aircraft flying low went over and we waited for the whistle of bombs but instead he signaled with a light but nobody was quick enough to read it,
Then it seemed the last contact with our own people was gone and I accepted the fact we were now stranded on this Island and in no shape to offer resistance to a superior force.

Also if the Germans had seen the aircraft signalling he would guess men were on the beach and it would not be long before we got unwelcome visitors.
So we had to keep a sharp look out all the time.
In the morning light every one had red-rimmed eyes through staying alert and peering into the gloom.
The next day a group went round with a hat and the spiel was, 'We are going to buy a sheep from the man up the road, he has two."
Someone piped up, "Why don't we just go and take both?"
Major McNab 1st A&SH said, "Because we are not brigands, we pay for one if he agrees, the man has already been approached and he needs to keep the other one for his family".

"Also" continued Mc Nab, "Since I appear to be the senior Officer here I would like to make one thing clear"
"We are no longer a unit and it is every man for himself, and those who wish to take off can do so, but I will remain with the wounded and try to negotiate with the Germans on their behalf should they find us before our people do, which I doubt since they will not risk sacrificing a Destroyer to rescue a handful of men."
To me that was like the knell of doom.

We had no rations as such so each man had to forage for himself.
Most trees that bore fruit had long since been stripped.
Even the bony dry locus beans had all gone from the trees.
We would not invade Greek homes because we knew they were struggling to feed themselves.
But one local Greek on realizing our predicament offered us a sheep for free simply because we were fighting for Greece.

Since we had money that was not going to be spent we might as well chuck it all into the bag and let the Greek think all his birthdays had come at once and we accepted his offer of one sheep.
But we would pay him for it.

When the blokes got back with the sheep one of them told me "You should have seen that Greek blokes eyes when we handed over the bag of money for one sheep,
They popped out like organ stops and he insisted there were too many drachma (money) for one sheep and if he got to keep the bag of money we could take both sheep.

We said take the money pushing the bag into his hands we took one sheep and when he understood he nodded vigorously and chanted "Endatcy endatcy", (ok ok), we gathered he was happy with the deal, he said something about now he could buy a new house.

Then the RAF bloke, who had the sheep on a bit of rope asked, "Now what?" to which some wit replied "Why don't you just kiss it goodbye"?
Then an Australian Soldier grabbed the sheep, cut it's throat in the manner we had seen the Greeks use, had it skinned, cleaned and quartered, and into an iron pot with a fire under it.

Any resemblance to the Hansel und Gretal yarn is coincidental, other scroungers put in onions potatoes etc, if it could be eaten it went into the pot.

About mid morning the next day somebody pointed down the beach and in the distance about half a mile two figures were approaching,
Everybody stopped to look because suddenly someone said, they look like Germans"

I had a long barrelled Canadian Ross with a telescopic sight and I lifted it up to take a look to varify they were indeed Germans.
One an was Officer and the other an Orderly who turned out to be an Interpreter, somebody yelled, "Don't shoot, they are carrying a white flag."
When the two reached us the Officer saluted and said "I salute you all not because of military protocol but because you have put up a hell of a fight you are to be admired among fighters,"
"With German Officers you could rule the world", somebody replied, " Wot a load of old cobblers mate!"
The Officer turned to the Interpreter and asked, " Was ist loadofoldcobblersmate?"
The Interpreter shrugged, " Ich weis nicht" ( I know not )

The German Officer then went on to say "I will come back tomorrow at dawn with a company of men and you will be treated as honourable prisoners off war,"
"And as a German Officer I give you my word you will be treated as such."
The voice muttered again, "Yea an' pigs might bleed'n' fly?"
Ignoring the muttered comment the German Officer continued,
"Those of you who wish to continue to fight on in the hills do not have hope, but if that is your wish very well, but you could be shot if you are taken again later" and he added "Crete now is all ours".

When he had gone Major McNab said "I am not going to pull rank on you people but as the Senior Officer here it is up to me to organize some way to minimize casualties,
"Hands up those who have guns?".
A few put up hands some said "But we have no ammo" so our Officer said "OK to put up a fight is out of the question, also we have no food and if Jerry takes us at least the wounded will be looked after, and we have done all we can and now it is in the hands of the Gods"
Those who wish to can go into the hills and survive".

Some left during the course of the day.

McNab told me to get rid of that, pointing to my rifle "Jerry doesn't like snipers, not ours anyway, how much ammo have you got"?
I replied, "Four rounds, a few days ago days ago I had three hundred and fifty".
"You have been busy," he said, "Now go throw it into the sea".

Next morning a Company of Germans arrived.
Most of us with guns had already thrown them into the sea.
So when they collected us they got blokes only, no watches or food only identity tags, and the rags we were wearing.

We had given anything of value to the Greeks.
They fell us in and a Jerry started walking across the front rank counting "Iens zwei drie"
Somebody had a little laugh where upon the Jerry Sergeant asked with a snarl "Warum lauchen sie? (why do you laugh)
One of our blokes said, "Charming" But the German counting us off continued with a stony face and showed no emotion, which made me think of the English Hangman Pierpoint who would adjusted the noose around many a murderer's neck before pulling the lever and sending them through the hole in the floor to have their neck snapped or choke to death.

Most of us kept quiet because we didn't know which way the pendulum was about to swing.
We could have been lined up so the Hun could make a tally then shoot us where we stood.

I was quick to notice that there were no Germans behind us but in front there were four Germans with machine pistols at the ready.
If they chose to shoot us the bullets would not hit their own men.

If the Sergeant now moved out of the line of fire we could have been mown down.
It was a very tense few seconds as the German Officer reached the end of the line counting.
Then he made a note in his notebook and folded it closed and returned it to a top pocket.

Time seemed to suddenly stand still as we waited for the next move.
The Officer barked out an order and the Guards motioned us to turn to out left and we marched off the beach in columns of three.

They marched us off that beach and it was then I sighed a deep sigh as I realized if they were going to shoot us they would not be marching us and we eventually arrived at Heraklion a small town on the coast where another Officer looked us over,
I was picked out along with about nine others who all had bandages on and we were escorted to a building with a sign in German informing anybody interested it was a hospital.

A bloke in a white outfit took off the bit of shirt that had been wrapped round my head for three or four days.
With a lot of tutting and a smile he dabbed some stuff on and said I was very fortunate because now for me the war was over.
There was a putrid smell everywhere.

Burst pipes and rubbish were prevalent and it was an epidemic waiting to hatch in the hot sun.
Then we were marched to Canea.

This was a forced march the full length of Crete since we had already marched from where we had landed at Timbakion
Somebody guessed it was about one hundred and forty miles.
During the march we were rested ten minutes in the hour.

Being an Infantryman and having marched in Palestine on different skirmishes against Syrian bandits and the PLO since early 1939 it did not affect me as it did some others like Clerics, Sigs, and Tank crewmen.
But on a low food diet it makes a big difference, and lack of water now made a difference.

Jerry was also smart because at certain places along the route he had placed a new set of Guards so that every day we had a fresh set of Guards.
The German Paratroops we had fought were like the College type of young man one would expect to meet at public schools in England, educated, good manners,
But the Guards now had changed and brutality took over from orders, now the rifle butt in the back or a savage kick, a fist in the face, and while some who fell by the wayside sometimes a truck picked them up but some were not seen again.

Some blokes took off boots, could not get them back on,
Big open sores etc, some times if a bloke straggled behind the main group he would be kicked to keep up.

This only served to add to his misery and if there was no truck handy and he got too far behind one of the Guards would turn round and to boo's and cat call's shoot him.

We were too tired to care any more, and the thought crossed my mind " Well it's quick".
And the smell of death persisted.
When we arrived at Canea we were locked up in rooms in a building.

I was with about twenty others and looking through the window I could see the sea,
The room looked like a work place but my attention was drawn to a chest of drawers beneath the window, I pulled open one of the two top drawers to find it full of old hand guns,
There was what looked like a double barrel Derringer and a flintlock, lots of bits and pieces of guns and when I stared at these somebody said "For Christ sake shut the bloody drawer before the Guard comes," They could have used this excuse to shoot us, who knows they must have known about the drawer, or did they? We will never know.

Others were locked in other rooms and when on the march we looked to be a thousand strong or more.
Filthy and pathetic.
One thing that stood out during that long week's march was that no matter where one was the smell of death was everywhere.

One of our lads bitten by a snake in the grass he was sitting on during one rest period and he died from lack of attention.
The German Guards offered no assistance to any who fell by the way side and shot any who could not keep up with the main column.

It was bandied about later that the excuse given to the Protecting Power was, "Shot while attempting to escape"

When I was a lad I can't ever remember passing out or feeling faint but since Crete funny things were happening.

One day I was looking at a tall tree and as my eye got half way up the trunk the pattern changed and as I looked up at where the branches should have been and a giraffe was looking down at me,
I glanced down and the roots of the tree were firmly in the ground but when I looked up again there was the giraffe chewing away.

I was taken to another medical place because sometimes I was seeing double like a t/v with bad ghosting.
By the way there are no loose giraffes on Crete.
We were put on Greek fishing boats under heavy guard and discussed with another bloke the possibility of leaving the boat before it got to Greece.

The conversation suddenly changed to sharks and possible prop damage and the chance of being shot in the water.
I lost interest and consoled myself with the fact "There is always tomorrow", and a tour of Germany would not come amiss.

We arrived in Greece and the Camp that had once been an Army barracks was now a POW camp.
Kreigsgefangenen Lager Salonika.

The vermin of this camp had to be seen to be believed.
They all had the same cap badge, skull and cross bones. They were the SS POW Guards.

These animals were recruited from doss houses, brothels, black marketeers, I could go on but I think you get my drift.
Then there were the permanent residents rats, bed bugs, lice, and a lot you could not see in the dark.
I sometimes think about the German Officer on the beach "I giff you my vord as a Chorman Officer" That promise ended when we stepped into Salonika P.O.W. camp.
Most of the time we lay around discussing how to get out, but with an empty belly even this was half hearted.
Then one day an Ox pulling a cart loaded with bread came into the camp and the Jerry rounded up some of us to form a chain from the cart to a building up some steps where the bread was to be stored.
Immediately the conversation turned to lock picking, and if there were any ex circus bods who could imitate flies, to whit, walk up walls and get through cracked windows.

We handed the bread from the cart to the building and we got a rhythm going but now and again as the pace picked up odd loaves would fall under the cart so I got under the cart and passed out these loaves,
Now this cart was a very old world cart in that it had what at first glance looked like a tree trunk running from the back to the front of the cart and between the floor of the cart and the trunk was a gap.

Making sure the Guard wasn't looking I tucked myself into this gap.
Ten minutes later I was out of the camp.
The cart was about a hundred yards from the gate when the Guard on the gate spotted my coat dragging on the ground.

"Halt" then a thudding of feet, the Guard bent and peered under at me and crooked his finger "Los come rous Tommy" He didn't know my name but Jerry calls all Brits Tommy.

I came out and he assisted me back to the gate, I could tell he was a bit dischuffed, because when we got to the gate he kicked me in the back and I was hurled into a group of our blokes who had gathered to see what was happening.

Somebody pushed my head down and said "Quick get to the back of the crowd and take that coat off".
This I did just as a SS officer came running up waving a pistol shouting to the Guard "Where is that man"?
Then I really enjoyed the Guard's discomfort as the Officer stomped up and down screaming at him.
There were quite a lot of words so I don't think, "Dumkopf" would cover the conversation.

One day I joined a group blokes, well I didn't sign anything but they were going into this drain so I decided I would also nick off with them.
We got down into this hole which turned into a concrete pipe about thirty inches across, wide enough to crawl down but one could not turn round in it.
We got so far along it when all movement stopped, there were cries of "Move it, what's the hold up" and God knows how many were down that hole.

It was stifling hot and smelly there was refuse on the bottom and sides of the tube, slime every where and it crossed my mind even in a situation like this blokes can make fun of a situation that could suddenly become very dangerous.

The air was so foul and if Jerry decided to fire down the pipe he did not have to aim, ricocheting bullets would do terrible damage also if anybody was hit Jerry would probably not bother to get them out, just leave them in the pipe to die.

Then somebody passed the word back we can't go any further there is a blockage, someone else said "Keep your voices down Jerry will hear us".
So we began inching our way backwards and as we were getting out of the hole we were spotted.
Four of us were first bundled into a small compound of wire by the irate Guards and the next day the sun seemed to be extra hot all that long day,
No water and no food, and we were covered in slime from the sewer the smell was so bad the only consolation I got was the Guard had to move from his shady place every time the wind shifted.
I cannot remember how long they kept us there but I found myself alone in a black dark room, there was just a grey thread of light under the door.

Some times it would brighten then I would hear footsteps.
I don't know how long I was in this room,
It seemed a very long time, then the light under the door got bright and footsteps came but went by and I heard a door being unlocked then more footsteps a door banged shut, the light under the door dimmed and I was left in the quiet dark again.
I must have dozed because all of a sudden there was a noise like a fight going on voices were raised now and then a thud, a moan, then quiet.

Then it would start all over again. This went on for a long time.
It was very quiet for a long time, perhaps half a day.
I didn't know if it was night or day, in fact I was now spending most of my time walking along a wall made of glass blocks.
It seemed to reached to the sky in any case one could not climb it there were no footholds and it was too slippery, I walked miles to find a door through it but to no avail.
So I would turn and walk miles in the opposite direction but could find no door.
Then I would think I ought to be going the other way.
The light under the door brightened and this brought me back to earth, footsteps, the key rattled, and the door opened and I was half dragged to a room where a Jerry was sitting behind a table, I was asked things like "Who was going to hide you"?
I gave my name rank and number.

"Where were you going"? Who organised the attempted escape"? and so on.
I was told later while this was very brave and proper it was also very stupid, people like the SS only react to this line by beating the daylights out of you.
I also think it is a human quirk, also, this was a good chance to get their own back, because we wiped out the cream of their Para troopers on Crete.

Four thousand killed or missing, two and a half thousand wounded, sometimes one wonders how does one go missing,?
What I mean is one can understand a chap taking cover in a shell hole, and getting blown up by the next shell? I'm thinking stuff this for a game of soldiers I'm off, but when some unhappy bloke is dangling from the end of a bit of string attached to a chute, he has no place to hide, and the answer is simple, most of the Para's had grenades stuck in their boots, in their belts, and any other place that was handy.

Trouble was a lot of the grenades were being hit.
There would be a puff of smoke, the unhappy Jerry would just disappear, and the now empty chute would drift in the breeze and gently fall to earth.
Now HE is missing in action.

One of these brave interrogators had a two foot long piece of rubber pipe like bit cut off an air compressor hose, and would smash it against the back of the knee, elbow, across the face, any where were it would hurt most.

He would beat on a prisoner until the bloke collapsed and was out for the count.
Fortunately by this time one is passed caring, and the louts realize this and take a rest.
One bloke suggested to me later they used the rubber hose so as to leave no marks on their victims for the Red Cross to see, and I queried, if so, then why didn't they wear wellies and rubber gloves when endeavouring to kick someone to death?

The Red Cross were not aware that you exist until you are allowed to notify them.
I came to aware of of itching and a very dry mouth, I hurt all over, when I moved clouds of bedbugs scurried over the floor.

I dusted most of them off my clothes but in doing so I squashed a lot of them and they stunk, I was covered with so many bites I thought I had measles.

My chest hurt when I moved but as I looked around I discovered I had company, there was a bloke lying on the floor and as I was he also was surrounded by bed bugs in fact he looked like an ant heap absolutely crawling with red ants.

The floor looked like planking tongued and grooved it looked like it had been a barrack room.
But at this time it was empty except for this bloke and myself.

I tried talking to him but his back was to me and I could hear him wheezing as he breathed.
The floor was filthy, bits of paper lay around a window was open because beneath the window on the floor was a small scattering of leaves.

I must have fallen asleep or passed out again because two blokes where carrying me in an overcoat and I opened my eyes and when I saw the beautiful blue sky with fleecy clouds I thought Jerry had done it and the next stop was Heaven.

Then I was aware of the two blokes carrying, me I asked about the other bloke on the floor, somebody said "He was dead when we found you, we thought you were too".
"Mabye that's what Jerry thought"?
I have wondered could t other chap have died from loss of blood, there were an awful lot of bed bugs.
Well it was just a thought.

We were eventually taken to a Railway yard in Salonica and loaded into horse box wagons.
It will save a lot of time at this point if I ask you to look at the film Von Ryan's Express
Now the part where all the prisoners are loaded on and a Guard sat on the roof of each wagon is just the same.

But we did not get to take over the train.
We stopped at Belgrade and were given soup and a piece of bread and I was a bit surprised at its size, about four thick slices,
The Jerry with the megaphone said, "Don't eat it all at once there will be no further rations for this journey the next food will be at your destination Luckenwald in Germany.

So we set off and the problem then arose where to hide the bread.
If one went to sleep one could wake up with none.
I gave it some thought and decided if I eat two slices now and don't go to sleep, I can eat two slices tomorrow and go to sleep then with nothing to worry about.
And the next day can look after itself.

But I did fall asleep and my bread was still in my pocket.
I happened to glance through the wire encrusted window when I woke and in the distance a big sign informed us we were passing ZAGREB.

We also came to hate body lice, friction sores because of travelling in swaying wagons, and dirty clothes, everybody had dirty clothes.

Eventually the train did stop and this time we got out.
I would like to just mention that sometimes when it had stopped before at times, it was because it had to be side tracked to let a Military train or Goods Train go by.
And then sometimes we would be sitting there for hours.
It was hot and smelly.

However eventually we arrived at a P.O.W. camp and found it to be full of French P.O.W.
Almost immediately someone yelled, "Line up".
We were marched past a French bloke who had a ladle and he was dishing out soup and a slice of bread to each man, I have never ever tasted soup like it, The French certainly know how to tickle the taste buds.

But I think when you are really hungry a raw potato tastes like ice cream.

So this was Luckenwald, P.O.W. Lager. " Welcome to Germany I thought"

A lot went on in that Camp, we got to wash our clothes and have a shave and a shower.
I remember there was a Guard in the room with us, and somebody said, "If he makes a move for the door we go out with him, don't let him lock us in".
We had heard rumours of some people being gassed, we also had a photo and finger tips and thumb prints taken, this was stuck to a type written sheet where there was the name rank and number of each individual.

The next day we were issued with a slice of bread and a teaspoon of sugar also a piece of cheese the size of four sugar lumps.

The cheese was like a cake of chalk covered with a solution that looked and smelled like the glue we used to mend bike punctures with back home.

Also each man was issued with a voucher for soup, it was about the same size as a bingo ticket but it was divided into days of the week inc Sunday by perforations, so there was Montag, Deinstag, Mittwock, Donnerstag, Fritag, Sunarbend, Suntag.

The last square had the date on it, so if you lost your ticket it was goodbye grub.
Usually if you were genuine the other blokes would give a spoon full each to make up the lost ration, but it did not happen very often believe me.
The next day was the same except instead of the teaspoon of sugar we got a teaspoon of marmalade, and so on.
One day there was a buzz going round and sure enough we got red cross cards to fill in to send home, Name, Rank, Number, and now another number POW 12244.
Somebody then made a comforting remark "Well that's good, now when somebody gets shot the Red Cross can inform the next of kin".

We were issued with what looked like kippers, somebody remarked "Cor don't they remind you of somebody" another voice said "Sorry, but Jeeves forgot to put my deodorant out this morning
when I had my bath!"
I had blacked out a couple of times in the rail wagon and one day when I fell flat on my face on roll call parade, I was taken to the Camp Hospital where the German Doctor fumed, why had I not been treated before this.

I was treated for three damaged ribs, a bone in the neck was chipped, I had pleurisy due to lung lining damage.
I also had a broken jaw, the Doc suggested when I was hit on the head on Crete my head was whipped round so quick it dislocated my jaw then when I fell that's what broke it.

I can't remember how long I was in that place, but it was not unpleasant.
One day a group of us was taken to the railway station and we boarded a train.
We had to stand in the isle, the train was full and to my left sitting were a group of Hitler youth about six of them.

As I glanced toward them the nearest youth maybe seventeen years old stared at me.
Then said something, and he now had the attention of his mates, and still staring he mimed picking bugs off his shirt, dropping them on the floor then grinding his boot on then.
They all had a laugh at this.

I kept my gaze fixed on him and he finally looked away, when he did look back again as I guessed he would I still was looking at him.
He finally went pink in the face and looked uncomfortable.
I left it at that and turned my back to them for the rest of the journey.
Don't push it I thought.

We got off that train and waited in the lee of the station house wall because there was a biting cold wind blowing.
One of our blokes had got a fag from somebody but he had no way of lighting it.
Near us was a German Civilian he looked like an Office walla.

Our bloke strolls over and asks "Haben sie fire bitte"? (light please) the bloke scowled back and refused and our bloke said "Remind me never to come here for a holiday" "Miserable turd!"
We got on the train without further ado and when we got off the Guard said now we march to the camp, and we did, somebody said lets show these back studs how to march, and we did.

All the way to the camp, I think we could have given the Grenadier Guards a run for their money. Anyway the Guard had a smile on his face as we marched into camp, halted, right turned and stood at ease.
This was Stalag 303 near the Village of Teltow.
The Camp Commandant's name was Herr Montag, He would put up no nonsense.
He was a decent enough bloke though and his view on life was the War cannot last forever so if we have mutual respect there would be every chance of us getting home safe at the end of it.

If you imagine this PC screen as a map of the camp then it would be surrounded by a double barbed wire fence, the only exit-entry gate was at top left, the recreation hall and cookhouse complex was across the top, now another double fence ran centre screen across.
There was a gate in this fence just left of centre.
The bottom half of the screen contained all six wooden huts four were filled with POW.
One was used as the camp hospital and one was used as a canteen cum library but as yet there were no books and nothing in the canteen.

From the middle wire to the cookhouse there was a veg patch.
To the right of that was a concrete swimming pool, well actually it was there in case of fire, but as I said before Herr Montag was a decent bloke, and he let us swim in it on Sundays when it was hot weather.

From the middle wire to the gate was the Guards barracks, so there was always a sentry at the main gate with a Guard house backup.
There was a Sentry on the middle gate only at night.
About 200yrds across the road and some tall grass was a Railway shunting yard.
About half a mile further and we could see the Village.
If one walked from the Railway on the main road one took the first left and one came to our camp, but if one were to carry on up this lane another 500yrds one would arrive at a Political prisoners camp.
Now and again almost every day we became aware of bodies being brought out and dumped in a large hole in the ground.
We did not work on a Sunday.
On one Sunday I heard, "Ayeup what goin' on over there then".

At the opposite side of the camp to the Railway was a slight hill.
Its top could be seen over the roofs of our buildings, and running like mad was a scarecrow of a man, he had escaped from the Political camp, his mad dash soon became a stumbling shamble as the incline of the hill took its toll on his painfully thin body.
We were soon all at the wire shouting, "Run you can do it," Soon it was obvious he wasn't going to make it because he fell down and it wasn't long before the Guards reached him and we stood and watched unbelieving as they slowly beat him to death with rifle butts and one man with a piece of four by two inches of wood about three feet long.

We knew he was dead because when the Guard left they left the body lying there.
Half an hour later two blokes in vertical black and white striped pyjamas came with a Sentry and picked up the body and took it back to the pit and tipped it in then with a shovel threw lime over it.

We found out later that when somebody died his mates would say he was sick so they could
collect and share his rations.
In Winter they were lucky, but in summer they could not get away with it for so long, and if the wind was blowing our way we also knew.
Then there was an air raid.

One night we all tumbled out of the barracks to get down into the shelters and as we glanced out past the Guard we could see the searchlights sweeping around looking for a target.

The searchlights picked up a plane high up and all hell let loose, soon I heard zip thud and more hissing and thuds until suddenly I realised it was shrapnel coming down all over the place.
The Guard also woke up and we all dived under cover, somebody said make room for the Guard.
Somebody else said "Stuff im 'e's gor a tin 'at on an' we ain't".

There was a big explosion and we thought it was so close the Cookhouse was gone.
But next morning we learned it had mown down a huge circle of grass and pieces of shrapnel had scythed through our Hospital and it killed one of our blokes in his sick bed.

But the rail shunting yard was a mess, there were rail lines pointing at the sky, one still had wooden sleepers hanging off it, buildings had been blown away, and part of a signal arm was found at the other side of our camp.
It was mid winter so the powers that be decided it would be a good time to dredge a stream under a bridge.

So we got on the train for a few miles got off and walked to where this bridge was, a Jerry Civvy came and unlocked a wooden hut and issued us with rubber thigh boots, then a long handled bull nosed shovel and explained that he wanted us to go into the water.

"How do we go into the water some one asked"?" same way as you got here dummy, put one leg in front of the other and if you are as stupid as you look you'll fall over.

"But there's thick ice on the water" complained the winger, After about an hour of pantomime we still didn't understand, "Nix verstehen " "Nix compri".
Then the Guard put a round up the spout and pointed his rifle at us and suddenly it all became very clear.

So with out more ado we broke the ice and entered the water.
One thing I learned very quickly was don't touch any metal with your bare hands, if you did, you're skin immediately stuck to it, it was freezing.
And if you complained of the cold and tried to get out the guard would push with his rifle so you had to stay in.

I discovered by working faster I could raise my body heat so the blood to my feet was that little bit warmer plus I had wrapped my feet in rags, this worked in my favor, or so I thought?"
Some of the lads who had only the rubber boots on got frostbite and lost toes, one bloke lost his foot on one leg and all his toes on the other.
We sent a deputation to the camp Commandant.

The Guard was transferred to another camp, I think what swung it was a Lady who lived nearby the bridge saw our plight and made some hot erzats coffee but when she brought it out to us the Guard said, "Nein" ( no) he also told her to go away and not come back.
Perhaps she rang up and protested.

Anyway the Commandant informed us that job could be resumed come summer when the weather would be warmer.
The food and soup was usually served round about six when all work parties got in.

The Camp Interpreter who was also a P.O.W. told us that there would be cakes in the canteen also drinks, starting next week, there were loud hoorahs and roll on next week.

When next week arrived there was a queue a mile long outside the canteen.
Then we found out the drink was a rough apple cider, sour to taste and gave some blokes belly pains.

The cakes turned out to be cakes of soap, it was like candle wax mixed with sand, but it worked, after a fashion.
We found out the soap was being made at a political camp and guessed it was body fat so we refused to use it, eventually all the boxes of soap began to overflow in the canteen so Herr Montag had them all taken away.

We never got another issue of that particular soap again in that camp.
A notice was put up one day informing us that since we had been such good boys the Camp Commandant had arranged with one of the local village elders to put on a film show for us.
"Oh goody I hope its Betty Grable" and other such comments.

Sunday afternoon we were all assembled in the recreation hall and waited and waited and waited, finally the Camp Commandant came in and said "Sorry Gentlemen, I got the wrong Sunday" 'It's next week".
The next week we were there again and we were told the bloke with the film had a bad cold.
A lot of Betty Grable fans trundled back to their barracks.

We did finally get to see a film, but it was a dreary old comedy in German so nobody could understand it, but we pretended we enjoyed it.
After all, the Camp Commandant didn't have to go out of his way for us.

The next job three of us got, was to walk to the Village with a Guard and he went to a shed at the back of this Pub next to the Railway Station.
He came back with a saw and some rope and pointed to a tree that had a branch that looked like it was going to grow straight through one of the bedroom windows of the Pub.

I got up the tree, tied the rope on then began to saw through the branch.
The window suddenly slid open and out popped the head of a pretty blond girl, Gawd !! this was even better than the movies I thought.

She shouted down to the Guard and he nodded and smiled and said "Ya ya".
I nearly fell out of the tree as she smiled at me sweetly withdrew her head and closed the window.
Up to now all girls I'd ever known always said, "No!, me Mam wouldn' t like it"
And I would ponder, "Well I don't really fancy your Mam that much either, so just forget it"

With the branch cut and safely on the ground we had just got tidied up when the blond girl came out with what looked like four stubbies of beer, she put them on the table with another of those sweet smiles turned and disappeared back into the pub, it was only then did we all, and the Guard included, tear our gaze from the closed door that had chopped off our view of the pretty rear end rhumbering across the Pub's courtyard.

The Guard changed the points in my brain just then because he gave me a friendly nudge with his elbow and said "Shoene vas" ( pretty yes,) I agreed.

The label on the bottles informed us it was Kinderbrot Beer.

After that things got a bit mundane, we did however get one or two lighter moments like when a Guard came in to each room inquiring if there was anyone interested in rabbits, one answer he got was "We all are if they are in a pie".
Another was "Keep your rabbits but could we have some dancing girls instead"?
He looked at us a bit shocked and said "What do you want with dancing girls"?
To which came the reply "Cor, don't yore Dad tell you nuffink?" and "There wouldn't be a lot of dancing done "

Some work parties would walk down a lane behind a small row of houses and passing one back garden we noticed a young woman doing some gardening, now we all knew fratting with the enemy was a very, and I do mean very dicy game.

However this did not deter one young Irish hopeful.
It all started with that pretty smile again, then it moved on to passing little notes.
They did it like this.
The Guard was always up front and us walking along in three ranks, the Irish bloke always made sure to be in the rank nearest the wall, and as we walked past the bottom of that particular garden he waited till she was looking then threw the note into her garden.

Since the note had a stone wrapped in it and it landed not too far away from her she did a quick look round then picked it up and put it in her pocket.
There were a few reprimands from the other blokes when they saw what he was up to.
"Bloody fool, you know she will shot with you if you are caught".
But love is blind? also because they weren't Robert Taylor types I think maybe it was a bit of sour grapes, envy, whatever?

Anyway they refined their postal system until not even we could see what was happening.
Well, not without making a point of watching.

The love notes were written in German by who else but the POW camp Interp and when Irish got an answer the Interp would translate for him
out loud and all the internees of the barracks was drooling.
By now Irish was madly in love and didn't seem to care if he did get caught.
Well they do say love is blind, en at!
Then after weeks and weeks of misery God switched the light on for him.
"I want to see the camp Commandant" he told the Interp.
"You are mad" said he, but Irish said, "ssssss" in his ear.
They both went to the Camp Office and it was agreed that Irish escorted by a Guard could go out into the woods to forage for rabbit food for the camp Commandant's pet rabbits.
Irish said he loved rabbits so much that he gave his word he would not attempt to escape.
We all agreed certain rabbit habits were beginning to rub off onto Irish.
Then Lady Luck in the guise of The Red Cross stepped in.
We got one parcel between two men, it was like Xmas had come early, so now Irish had some ammo to further his cause.
He told us that when he went to get rabbit food that Sunday with the Guard, he took out of his pocket a bar of chocolate broke a bit off and watched the Guard drool.
After a while he gave the Guard a bit of the chocolate.
The next Sunday he gave him a whole bar of choc and told him "For your wife, but don't tell any body," the Guard agreed.
He was also hooked, now Irish let his girl friend know where he would be every Sunday afternoon.
So now every Sunday afternoon the Guard and Irish would go to the wood.
The Guard would pocket a unopened tin of coffee worth about six months pay on the black market, he would sit quietly at the edge of the wood and wait for the return of the happy wanderer.
Irish would go into the gloom of the wood for half an hour or more and perhaps a bit longer and return flushed and happy with a bag full of rabbit food that to an observent person would have taken about five minutes to gather if he was impatient enough.
I lost track of Irish after a while, the only sad thing I thought was Irish was wed and the girl's husband was in Russia, so it could not have a happy ending.
Come to think of it Walt Disney's Snow White was a lot better.
I took some of the empty tins (ex Red Cross) and by joining them together made a boat, one of the Guards said he had an old gramophone I could have if I would make a boat for his son.
I now had a motor for my boat, all the other boats I made had sails.
Can you imagine a nice summer day sitting by a pool watching blokes racing each others model boats, the Commandant and some of the Guards got caught up in the spirit of the meet and I was complemented on my ingenuity.
I thing the Guards were bored, but now even they would join in.
Soon, the enthusiasm of this sporty event was not lost on some of the punting fraternity, little cards were being erected round the pool declaring Big Fred or Lucky Norm would give 4 to 1 on number five.
My boat was clockwork, the other boats were sail and while they could really move sometimes and reach the other end of the pool, they could not be controlled once freed to go.

If I set the rudder the boat would go to the other end, albeit slowly.
Call it sour grapes if you wish but I thought it was pay back time for some of these punters who were giving some of the lads a hard time.

Cum Sunday and I told some of my mates I would remove the governor from my boat and the boat would streak to the other end of the pool.
Put all your fags on it, I gloated.

Well, I think some of the other lads got wind of it, so lots of fags changed hands and a great air of excitement prevailed round the pool, also I noticed there were a lot more blokes round the pond.
Ready, get set, go, all the boats were away.
The sailing boats looked very pretty as they set off across the pond.

My boat was a disappointment, for a second the prop churned the water to a froth the boat lurched forward then as the prop got a grip of the water the reaction turned the boat on to its side and it sank.
I thought I'd get it tomorrow.
I never did.
There was talk of "Chuck him after his bloody boat", but they soon drifted back to their huts muttering like a lot off disgruntled ducks, thinking about lost cigarettes.

There was an air raid one night, we got one about once a month, one where we actually had to take cover in the dugouts, the dugouts were like slit trenches lined with sheets of straight corrugated iron, another sheet fixed over the top and the whole thing filled over with sand there was a hole in the middle and steps were cut into the sandy soil with bits of wood to stop them collapsing when it rained.

One time I was amongst the first in and sometimes you could get a snapshot because Jerry fired something called flaming onions and as they lit up the sky so you could have a quick shufti at your surroundings which before was black as ink.
I found that with a little effort I could move the corner of the metal sheet and after a whispered confab pressed it back.

When the all clear sounded and we got back to our beds there were exited whispering going on about how far was the wire to the air raid shelter and if a tunnel came up outside the wire which sentry box was nearest.

So once all the relevant intelligence had been fed to the escape committee after about a month of pretending to be Sherlock Holmes, well you couldn't go up to one the Jerries, come to think of it that name fits, well most of them are lavatories anyway, you could not go to Jerry and say "er exuse me Hans," I would have preferred to call him Dick but Hans sounds more German, " But that grassy patch near #4 tower that reaches from the air raid shelter to the wire we were thinking of putting in some potatoes and maybe some beans in could you tell us how long
it is "?.

I will not dwell on that because I can remember the long nights staying awake waiting for an air raid and thinking all Jerry's were Dicks anyway, or at least the female equivalent, then I thought about how the sand transported from the hole was pathetic.

Having bent the metal just enough to scrape sand out we now had to use a peg to keep it back in it's original position.
Jerry made good use of Ferrets.

These were usually somebody who had been wounded and had a working knowledge of another language.
For a French camp the Ferret would be a Jerry with a second language in French, our's had a second language in English and if we knew he was listening we would break into Indi or Arabic, some Welsh blokes used Welsh and used to taunt the hell out of him.

Sometimes on the train you would get a lot of fun watching some of the smart looking civvies, if you were discussing something you could spot straight away if he was listening.

"Oh I know where you mean" this was the signal to set the ball rolling. "I thought they pulled that place down" and if they were having a drink from a flask you waited to come out with the punch line, "Na they're building wings for Spitfires now, sometimes they stopped in mid gulp and made a choking noise.

"You'll be ok in a minute mate "Somebody would grin at him "Just take a few deep breffs."
Some used Cockney slang to good effect.

The people I had no time for and most were above the rank of private were the people who would make remarks like "Well I've done my bit I can sit here till its over", I don't think I heard it ever from a regular soldier.

My view was I was still a soldier and my pay would not stop until I was dead.
My motto was stuff the Germans. It still is.
And a lot of this bullshit 'Forgive and forget' is not on in my book, they will try it on again one way or the other.

If and when I got the chance to do some thing useful to stuff up the Germans I did it.
We only come round this way once.

For instance, on a work party near a rail siding, call to the Guard with a bit of pantomime clutching ones middle call out "Pingle pause Postern,"(Toilet break, Guard) he would wave and shout "Ja ja"and continue looking at a dirty book.

Once round behind the wagons I would lift the lid on an axle box and scoop most of the grease out, then fill it with sand and gravel and whack as much grease in to hide it.
Then I would wipe my hands on the grass and emerge adjusting my clothing, then get as far away from that spot as I could.

I must have done this a total of thirty to forty times over about eight months, others did it too, I wasn't alone, I would have been if I'd been caught.
But when young etc.

By the way all German rail engines had Rader Mussen Rollen fur den Sieg (Wheels must roll for victory) painted on the side of the tender (that's the bit immediately behind the engine with coal in it) some of these wheels were due for a rest.

The stub end of an axle on a goods wagon goes into the axle box and it turns round inside two white metal castings.
To make these castings requires just a little more heat than is used to melt lead, so the wagon would not get far before the sand would cause friction and friction creates heat.

The metal melts and leaks out of the axle box, when this happens the wagon starts to bounce.
The coupling can snap that means the train is cut in two and if on an incline it can stop then roll the other way.
If another train is coming he can't get out of the way in time.

The wagon could jump the rails and it would drag all the following rolling stock with it.
Half of a white metal casting was half brick in size. Two put together made a complete bearing.
Another work party I worked for was Lenz & Weber Baugeselshaft.

On this party I was the Interpreter
The old Gaffer had been in the First World War.
So too had the head Bricklayer.
The head Bricky proudly opened his jacket to show the label, "Made in Manchester England "
"Ja I vos in England erst var as prisoner I was cald und vet, (cold , wet,)
The Gaffer and I got on well together.

He would rant on and I would nod or shake my head, somebody took pity on him one day, he was filling this old pipe with dried daisy heads and this bloke, one of our bods who also had a pipe, pulled out a tin of Digger Flake and took the pipe off the old bloke, he reamed out the daisy heads and stuffed it full of Digger Flake and handed it back, the old boy lit up inhaled and "Shizer, opium"? he gasped then he had to sit down because it made him giddy.

The Old Boy always called me Freidrich,"
All day I had to guess what he wanted when he spoke, actually body language helped mostly. I think some of the lads knew as much German as me but I was dumb enough to think I was smarter than they were.

Or they were smart enough not to get involved?
We built, or rather the Jerry old blokes were building a complex with concrete and bricks.
It looked like a small house, and next to it was a huge square hole where it turned out a twenty foot square of concrete was to be poured.

We threw tools into the wet concrete and poked them under while the Germans were busy stuffing their faces at lunch time.

The Guard searched each of us at the end of work time when we fell in to go home, we stopped doing this particular practice when we found the old bloke was getting a rough time from his Boss plus it really did not effect the war effort anyway.

Then we found out what the concrete was for, it was the foundation for a crane which would load Loco's with coal from a bunker.

So it was on again, little old ladies were not going to live in this house and sit watching trains go by, it was the control cabin for this complex that would water and coal engines on the railway. Somebody sneaked a look at the plans on the table in the hut held down by a brick so the wind didn't blow them away.

So we had a heads together, " Yea let's do it"
Well one day it was presented to us like the proverbial Xmas turkey.
Measuring took place, sticks were hammered into the ground.
A Jerry bloke came out with a spyglass on a tripod and when he got it set up and looked though it two of our blokes got in front of it put their arms round each other and pretended to be two shy girls fluttering their eyes at the camera.
The old Gaffer laughed, the bloke with the apparatus had no sense of humour, the Guard just scowled.
Then we noticed a bloke holding a pole up with numbers on it and the bloke with the spyglass
waved him a little bit this way then back a bit so to add to the confusion two of our blokes got a long plank and walked in between them then stopped and argued.

Meanwhile the bloke with the spyglass is doing his nut because he can't see the numbers on the pole.
String was finally attached to the sticks so if you can imagine a twenty feet slab of concrete in the ground and about three yards away from it and going all the way round it were two lines of strings.
At the corners where they crossed each other they formed a square about three feet square.
The locals were in the cabin at midday, busy scoffing huge wads of meat sandwiches.

So we moved the string, nothing haphazard, we got a bit of stick and moved each string six inches further out.
From then on we pondered what we had done, till someone came up with the magnificent idea.

On the train sometimes would be French blokes who worked all over the place, they did not have Guards maybe they were pro German, who cares, but what mattered was we could scrounge off them or barter Frog ciggies.
They were shocking to smoke, anyway the idea was to cut them into short stubs which were lit then put out.

If suddenly we were searched these were ignored but when the time came we put some of these round the building site.
It looked to the Germans as if The French Underground movement had struck again.

The name of those ciggies by the way was SWEET CAPAREL in a blue packet and packaged just like American camel cigs.
By the way if you knew why they had that particular brand name you would cease smoking forthwith.
Come to think of it the Frog cigs used to rip your throat out as well.

Someone suggested that Russian cigs were dried budgie droppings ground up and mixed with red pepper to hide the aroma only trouble with those if you forgot to pinch the tube in two or three places you wouldn't have to wait for lung cancer, you could quite easily choke to death on the spot.

The effort we put into this project bore fruit,
On the top of the concrete block another was made and on top of this they would mount a crane.

Now the brickies set to and at each corner of the concrete about tree feet away (plus our added six inches), were four footings of concrete where they built up four columns, when these were finished a steel girder was to be fitted to the main concrete and rest on these pillars.

Well said the Boss with a puzzled look "I don't understand how they could be so stupid to make these girders short."
That afternoon was like going to see The Three Stooges.
The people who had supplied the steel were there, the bloke who had drawn the plans was there, the Gestapo were there, they glared at us, and they wanted a stooge because we were handy, but the old man wouldn't have any of it.

It was obvious he stuck up for us, and it was just as well, because a lot of sabotage was going on in our area and they could not find somebody to shoot.

Then one Jerry a bit brighter than the others pulled out a big leather bound tape measure, he had a quick squiz at the drawing and went round all the columns then started screaming at the old man.

One of the Gestapo glared at one of our blokes as he pushed passed him, he had plenty of room but it was obvious to us he wanted blood and he made a point of pushing him out of the way.

We had had this kind of treatment before and there was no way one of us was going to fall for it, and it fizzled out.
To get round the discrepancy for which we were to blame, Jerry dug out one side of each column, then got some big wooden levers and ho heaved the columns to a new position so the iron girders would now fit.

Then they put the earth back behind the columns and stomped it in with his foot somebody remarked "Now we know were we got the term, Jerry Building"

About a quarter of a mile away was a Factory and you would not believe the security.
Towers, Patrols, Dogs, we were interested in this factory because it was Daimler Benz.
With the security they had we decided they could carry on making what ever they wished.
Then one day a train went roaring past and somebody shouted look at that, smoke was streaming from one wagon as it sped past us.

Later that after noon I asked the Guard "Pingle pauser bitte?" (leak)
"Ja ja" quaffed the Guard motioning with his hand to some bushes.
As I walked over the line I picked up tear drops of white metal that had melted and dropped from the smoking wagon's axle box and onto the sleepers and metal support of the lines.
I put them in my pocket.
These I saved till I had enough to make useful things like spoons, cap badges, keys etc.

To melt the metal I made a small blower..
This was made from a Canadian Klim dried milk tin, and indeed was a blacksmith's forge in miniature.
I could boil a dixie of water to make tea in a matter of minutes.

Cries of make me one, make me one, soon the ablution block would have smoke pouring out of the windows and any one going in for wash or to shave would come out coughing and wiping eyes.
The first time we lit up Jerry came running he thought the place was on fire, we politely told him to "f--k off " we were making morning tea.

There was a Sergeant from a Welsh regiment who resided across the passage with nine other bods.
He got permission from the camp Commandant to go up into the rec hall when everybody got in from work and had had their nourishing soup.

I must tell you about the soup here cos if I don't I may forget.
It's no big deal but it gives you a clue how like an animal one can once there is adversity.
Each room had a dixie, the dixie is an oval shaped container on which there is a clamped lid.
It had a handle to carry it with.

It was big enough to hold soup for twenty people, so, since we were ten men to a room, the dixie would be half filled, and when the whistle blew to let us know it was trough time, you could if you weren't a dancer get knocked off your feet.

The Camp town races or Dixie rush, take your pick.
Somebody leaning against his bed drawled "You'd thing Betty Grable was on the front lawn doing a strip the way some of these blokes carry on "Well ah mean, what must Jerry think"?
At first it was like that, then it got sneaky,
It started with this cockny bloke, Thomps.

He was always laid on his bunk reading a book.
He had on thick glasses, he was a dodger, (bludger) what I mean is everybody either washed windows when necessary or swept the floor, he did nothing.
At home he probably lived in a pig pen.

I don't know where or how he got them, but he seemed to have an unending supply of apples.

When it was quiet at night all one would hear was a suddenly waaaaaaark.

If you were quick enough you would see him lowering his leg, scrruncch chomp -chomp-chom.
I don't know if he enjoyed eating apples all day or if he was just trying to get the room to himself by filling it with foul gas with the hope of driving everyone else to seek residence elsewhere.

Then one day we found out it could talk, "You blokes need a farver figure," he said looking round the room, and his eyes looked like two big gold fish bowls full of mucky watter.

And he continued, "I bin thinkin', that soup, corse I ain't volunteerin' tu fetch it but if somebody used their loaf us cud be be-er off than we are, naw'a'meen".
Making himself comfortable on his bunk he warmed to his task of telling how sneaky one could get.

"Na eres wat yu do" he waffled, "Yer bloke wi dixie waits till there's a queue then he gets in line wi rest on em, savvy, cos them big vats is full o' soup and them idle beggers don't stir em tu much".
"Well ah mean it only common sense if yer think abaht it, first there gets water offen the top, in the middle it gets thicker, but like ah sed, use yer loaf an ger all that thick stuff off 'n bottom."
Some looked at each other and slowly nodded at this brilliant strategy, somebody said quietly "How sick do you have to be to get repatriated"?
But the greedy prevailed and this plan was implemented.

The first time it worked and would you believe it, this Thomps put half of his stew into another tin topped up both tins with hot water then tried to flog off one for cigarettes.

We ganged up on him and he moved to another hut where he continued with his greedy habits.

Trouble was the whole thing back fired on everybody who tried this tactic, you see it was not long before word got round so that now when the whistle blew chow time everybody was hanging back.
Well eventually the Commandant saw what was happening and nipped it in the bud straight away, because without warning one day the whistle blew and everybody hung back and we knew after twenty minutes the gate would be shut and started to drift up to collect the soup.

About fifteen dixies were half filled, that was the correct amount for each room but the last five dixie carriers where informed "Sorry there is not enough soup left, you can have a bit of bread instead."

The following Sunday the camp was searched, then there was a roll call, then the Camp Commandant addressed the assembly, "I am disappointed with you men, normally I would begin a meeting with Gentlemen but today I cannot because you don't act like Gentlemen".
" I will not tolerate this kind of behavior."
"I am aware that some of you did not participate in this venture, but in Germany because you did not stop it, you are all equally guilty."
"I will address you as Gentlemen when you have earned the right to that title".
"Dismiss!"

He had made his point and the atmosphere in the camp now was beginning to be oppressive, "Any body coming for a swim"? ventured one bloke.
"P--s off and drown yersel why do'nt yer", Snarled another.
"Well I on'y arsked "
"You don't have to get your knickers in a twist" and other such niceties were bandied round the room.
And "Weere's that book I lent you Chalky? "
An indignant Chalky White retorted, "Oi aint got yer soddin book, oi puts it on yer soddin flea pit din oi" an if yer can't look arter yer soddin gear don't epect me to, sod off".
I wondered if in peacetime perchance he was a Gardener.
Maybe not, the flowers would wilt, well it is said they do respond to music.

Getting back to the Welsh Sergeant, he wanted to start a Welsh Choir, and as I said before he had got the ok to use the recreation hall, so he gets all these budding Bing Crosby type's and you should have heard the noise that suddenly erupted from the rec hall, one bright bod remarked "Ow can you 'ave a bleed'n' Welsh choir wiv on'y one bleed'n' Welsh man in it?"
Most of the Jerry Guards were on their way to the shelters when they realised it was not an air raid, perhaps somebody was being interviewed by the Gestapo in the rec hall?
Anyway they practiced, and as it turned out one of the better of the tunes was "Bread of heaven, feed me till I want no more" to which a visiting Padre remarked "My goodness! they really do sing that rather well don't you think?"

Finally a Guard would collect about ten of us and we were told to parade in half an hour outside the Guardroom.
We sauntered up to the Guard room and sat on the grass, five minutes later this ghost about six foot tall comes out, actually he looked taller because he was slim built, a better word would be gaunt.
He was also very pale, and some one whispered "Ere, that bloke ain't 'ere for long"
He came out of the Guard room rifle slung over his shoulder and what looked like railway warrants which he was stuffing into his tunic.

"Aufstehen" (stand up) he said looking at and counting us.
We fell in, in three ranks, and just as quietly the Guard said "Rech's rum, we turned to the right" "Commando marsh" we marched out of the gate to the Railway Station.
We got on the train and travelled about ten miles then got off and walked half a mile down a lane and came to a field.
A German civilian in a truck that had what looked like a steam boiler on one side arrived with tools.
As soon as he stopped he opened the top of this boiler thing and stuffed a load of wood chips into it.
Then wriggled a little lever at the bottom and a load of ash fell out, so the truck engine ran on gas that came from the wood cooking in the top bit.
How very ingenious I thought.

On Monday we again went to this field down a lane, again this truck turned up, the civvy was a friendly sort of bloke and handing out a pair of shears to me indicated he would like me to go round the field trimming all the hedges
"Today?"
"Nien nien, ein wocke wieliecht" (no, no, perhaps it will take a week) and he chuckled.
The others got tools like a scythe, a rake, some a ball of string to tie up all the clipped branches.
We lost our selves in our work, it was a nice day and I got back ache, I lay on the grass hoping to relieve it the bloke came over and had a smile on his face, "Immer langsam" (don't work so hard).
The others were engrossed in their work.
One was reaping and you could see he was not used to using a scythe, another was following him raking up the clover and hay.
"Mind you don't cut your foot off" to which our wistful mate replied, "I should be that lucky".
"You won't find too many angels in this lot, but they're not a bad crowd."
Then the Guard got a name, one of our blokes yelled "Ayup, where's Lofty?"
We all looked round and somebody said "Well I'll be b-----d there he is" and about quarter of a mile away sure enough was the Guard carrying his food dixie and with his rifleover his shoulder coming toward us.
Behind him about half a mile away was a Factory and Factories have Canteens and Lofty had gone all that way to get stew.
Then we got another surprise the Civvy bloke digs out some old cracked small plates and bent spoons and told us to sit, Lofty put the dixie on the grass and motioned with his hand to get stuck in.
We did, and when one of our blokes asked Lofty if he was having some he gave us to understand he'd had a good lunch at the Factory.
We also found out he had been wounded two or three times, and had been in hospital a long time.
He showed us a photo of his wife and two kids, he was proud of them.
One day as we came off the Railway Station we had to wait because Lofty was having an argument with the ticket collector, we had got through the barrier and were maybe some twenty yards away and we waited.
At another gate were three Jerry Civvy Police and one was demanding people to show their identidy cards, "Auswise cart bitte" they were parroting.
We had with us a bloke called Smith and he fancied himself as a comedian.
"Auswice cart bitte" Squarked Smith, mimicking a parrot.
The Cop nearest to him heard him and came charging over pulling out a pistol.
The Cop would perhaps be fifty years old with greying hair, beer gut, about five eight or nine, and appeared to be in charge of the group.
But he was the typical Nazi bully boy and now he was purple with rage and grabbing one off Smith's arms and twisting upwards he rammed the gun behind Smith's head and was mouthing off in German.
It looked like he was trying to break Smith's arm.
Everybody, including civilian passengers stopped and waited for the bang, the ticket collector and Lofty turned to see what was happening and immediately Lofty came running.
Lofty shouted to the Cop who took no notice and as Smith involuntarily bent forward as if to ease the pressure on his now twisted arm the pistol at the back of his head followed him down.
At this point Lofty suddenly whipped the rifle off his shoulder and with a quick movement of the hand put a round up the spout then stuck the muzzle in the Cop's ear and quietly said "Weg traiten" "yetz" (Walk away, now).
A train in the background was hissing off steam and everyone was very still.
For about ten seconds nobody moved, then Lofty made a jabbing movement in the Cop's ear with his gun muzzle and the Cop suddenly let go of Smith's arm and began to tub his bruised and now skinned bleeding ear.
Smith now on the ground had the common sense to stay still.
The Cop turned to Lofty with the pistol in his hand.
Lofty said something and now had the rifle muzzle tight under the Cop's chin and the Cop suddenly deflated and put the pistol in its holster then Lofty gave him a barrage of words among which were something to do with fighting at the front.
The Cop went bright red and seething with anger turning on his heel went over to his mates.
He was still massaging his ear as he proceeded to give his mates a hard time, maybe because they didn't back him up or perhaps trying to save face in front of his mates.
Only when the civvy Cops were out of sight did Lofty put the safety catch on and put the rifle back on his shoulder.
Then he wagged a finger at us and said "Pass auf" (watch out).
We suddenly slacked off with the mick taking, in so far as Civvy Cops were concerned.
We got another issue of Red Cross parcels, one between two again.
After being on just enough food to do a certain amount of work, this extra food was not only better tasting but it caused, how does one say, well funny 'as in strange things began to happen.

The first night about midnight there was this long rasping noise, ten minutes went by and it sounded like a long long sigh with a full stop at the end, then there was a smell which began to seep round the room.
"Gawd some bugger's gone an' died" an' its night time, an' we can't even open a bloomin' winder.
"I'm going to have a fag.
"S--t, you'll blow us all up". "
Soon some were dropping off to sleep.
Lofty wasn't just a German Guard any more he was one of us, the only difference was he slept in the Jerry barracks and wasn't locked in at night.

Lofty would go to the toilet and his rifle would still be leaning against a tree, nobody would touch it, we had I think, respect for each other.
We could wait and we just wouldn't drop Lofty in it.
We would wait and kill two birds with one escape so to speak when we got a Guard who was a bad egg.
Summer slipped into autumn and all the leaves turned to yellow and brown, blue skies turned to grey and one afternoon one of our blokes was sitting on a pile of leaves wiping his eyes.

"What's the matter mate"? queried one bloke.
"Aw," came the reply, "Me kid's goin' to be growed up when I gets 'ome" 'e won't bloody know me".
I think maybe what switched him on was the fact that snowflakes were falling and memories of Christmas were beginning to surface, it was a time to be with family and your kids if you had any.
Those that didn't had a Mum and Dad. But some of those would be missing for some who got home in one piece to an empty house or no house at all.
Also it was obvious Christmas would be here before it all ended.
Fortunately we had no Clairvoyant with us to tell us we would miss the next three.
Then one Saturday as we were dismissing at the Guard room, having just got in from work, Lofty told us "Morgan ich bin zu hauser gehen".(tomorrow I'm going home on leave).
Immediately there were cries of "How long for" and "Good on yer Lofty" and at the back of your mind is that little niggle, will we get him back?
And what is the next Guard going to be like?

Anyway as soon as we got into our barrack room a suggestion was put forward and carried.
We would all chip in something from our R. C. parcel so that Lofty and his Family could have a good Christmas.
A bloke called Howard went round and negotiated and he collected a bar of Palmolive soap, now you may think "Huh! big deal? a bar of soap'? ?
In Germany in WW2 a bar of Palmolive was worth the equivalent of $100 Aust today.
A tin of coffee would be in the region of $1000 on the black market, so Howard would barter this for that and that for this.
A chap putting in a tin of coffee took out maybe two bars of soap and two blocks of chocolate as change so to speak.
Well this worked out pretty good because we came up with a grand total of a tin of coffee, four bars of chocolate, three bars of Palmolive, a tin of pipe tobacco and a fifty tin of Player's cigs.
And when one considers that the Germans had been drinking roasted ground acorns as coffee the delight of drinking real coffee was like a dream come true. And real scented soap that lathered instead of grease and sand.
Then we got the camp Interpreter to go to the gate with the Camp Senior Officer, (our bloke) and he requested to see the Camp Commandant.

They were escorted to his Office and the Senior Brit Officer (our bloke) asked if we could give Lofty and his family this parcel.
The Commandant frowned.
"It is not customary for POW to give presents to Guards, especially since none come even close to resembling Lilly Marlene, I only wish I could be so popular with my own men, however that is neither here nor there, of course you may".
And wagging a forefinger at them accompanied by a wry smirk he continued "But only because it will soon be Christmas."
He asked his batman to fetch Lofty.
"You may hand it to him personally" he said to our bloke.
Our bloke muttered "He's only getting a parcel, and not being bluddy Knighted by the King."
Lofty came in and our bloke handed him the parcel and said through the Interpreter "For your kids Lofty" have a good Christmas and if we don't meet again, good luck".
That bloke had the wrong job and he should have been a prophet.

The next day was Sunday some blokes were doing their washing, others just lazing or appeared to be lazing around.
In a POW camp you never know when the lid is going to blow off.
However somebody walking round the wire suddenly piped up "There goes Lofty" and there he was on the out side of the wire on the way to the Railway Station.
Someone yelled "Aufweidersehen Lofty" somebody else called "Let's hear it for Lofty, fo-or he's a golly good fellow, he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fe-elow and so say all of us, hip,hip,ra hip,hip, ra hip,hip,ra
Lofty turned and waved and held up his parcel, and a gruff voice said "B----r me, he's cryin"
We drifted from the wire in ones and twos and soon there was just one bloke slowly strolling round the wire with an open book in his hand.
It seemed like a long day.
Somebody shouted "Hey there's a van at the gate" and "So what, it's been before".
"Yea, but I think it's a Post van.
Suddenly the card game is abandoned.

There is a rush to the window, cries of 's--t your right" and "Wonder if she's sent me ciggies" and "You got a 'ope" some big fat slob of a Gestapo bloke ull be sittin' back smokin' issel sisk, serve the b-d right 'n all, thievin' g--s.
About an hour later our Postie comes in to our barracks and shouts "Mail up" and listen for yu name "
Quiet prevailed and the Mail man who had been patiently waiting for the parry and thrust of wit to subside finally took the first letter from the bundle held in his hand.
"Bell" he cried,"
"Where's ding dong"?
"In the lew ah think," "Ahl tek it fr'im".
"McCartney!", "Here", "Farnsworth!", "Over here old boy, thank you!".
"Death!",
"I say old chum do you mind, but the name is De-Aath with a hyphon and thanks awfully, I say it looks like a bill, good lord it's from my Tailor,"
"Another voice piped up, "Aint 'e the unlucky one."
The Postie nodded to De-ath and said, "Right mate, "Death wiv a 'ifon"
Then dipping into the bag again the Postie brought out another fist full of letters,
when these had been claimed he brought out a parcel, and another until finally the bag was empty.
Some disappointed bods picked up books others just laid on their bunks and gazed at the bed boards supporting the bloke above, another bloke was taking his disappointment out of the home made dart board, finally every thing got back to normal.

"Whose for a game of cards"?
"Awe shove your cards", "Yea, one at a time bleed'n' end ways"
"Don' be like that" "What did I do"?
"Nuffink ahm just cheesed off,"
"Well aint we all".

Then there was a bloke ashen faced at the door "They just cut a bloke down in't wash house"
"Who"?
"I dunno, I wen' in for a wash an' I seed all these blokes roun' 'im, somebody said he'd gor a le'er, y'naw wun o' they dear John things.
. "Well that's one way to escape".
"Yea, but there's no future in it".

Monday morning "Lose, aufstehen, mach shnell, siet zum arbiet", (Monday morning hurry,get up quickly time for work,)
We had our new Guard.
The Commandant was full of his usual wit, "Well Gentlemen, are we ready for our morning stroll?'" he began.
Then one had a job to hear who was saying what because there was muttering in the ranks, like "All of a sudden we are Gentlemen!", and "Cut the crap!" and up yours Kraut!"
Then the Commandant said "Gentlemen please!" And some replied, "Ah ha! a Kraut begging? Well that's one for the book!""
And the Commandant was suddenly and completely lost in this morass of words.
Finally he stalked off into his office in a huff and banged shut the door.
"Stuffuenall owd mate," somebody shouted after him.
Charming we thought, now we've got one Guard that was just the opposite.

The new Guard marched us down to the Railway station and we got onto the train and we got off the train and waited for another one.
That was the day I found out that I too could do something stupid.
We were about twenty blokes on this Commando, and if you could picture a Railway Station house and adjoining buildings with a platform on the other and a metal bridge joining the two platforms that was the back drop.

We were on the platform having come over the bridge, and we were lazing about waiting for the train when in the far blue yonder I could see these two dots moving ever so slowly to my left I whispered "Aircraft" somebody said "What you whisperin' fer"? Where"? You o.k. mate"?

I said, "Look at the top of that flag mast, now come half way down it, and they are passing it------now."
"Yea, I see em they're ME109's they're coming over the station and they are low".

"Ere! ah don't like the look o' this, an ' if them back studs open up we are in the line of fire"
If they had opened up they would have mown down a lot of German civilians as well.

And it was just as well they didn't fire because we would have been too late moving anyway.

The quiet of the Railway Station was suddenly shattered as with an ear splitting roar they passed over the Station House, and on impulse I shouted "ACTUNG SPITFIRE".

I still wonder today how nobody was trampled to death, I also wondered what would have happened if our train had come just then because most of the people on our side platform were hiding on the side of the line under the platform overhang.

A civvy cop came and had a go at us but maybe because he was on his own and we did not cringe when he snarled at us but he thought better of it.
Anyway the magically cleared platforms were soon humming with life again and now most of the German Civilians knew who we were all of a sudden as fingers were pointed, and one German youth began mouthing off at us until one of our blokes snarled at him, "If yu don't shut yer gob ah'll come ower theer an' bluddy thump yer"

Of course the Youth didn't under stand the language but he got the message from the posture and the huge doubled up fist shaken at him and he suddenly faded in to the crowd.

When the train finally came we got on and traveled a few miles then got off, formed up and walked to some sand pits.
There was grass on the top so it looked like an ordinary field or paddock but some one had dug down about twenty feet so there was a sand face for about a mile long and the bottom of the gully was about fifty yards wide.

Close to the sand face was a set of narrow gauge lines, and sitting on these lines was a small steam engine attached to about ten steel tip up skips on wheels.

The railway lines curled out of the field and disappeared into the distance.
The German civvy told us what to do, go to the buda (shed) pick up a shovel each, come back here and with two men to a wagon fill them with sand.
This is a piece of cake some body scoffed, "I love playing with bucket and spade, bit like Blackpool."

But as we had nearly filled one skip and were contemplating having a lay in the sun another little engine with ten skips came chuffing round the corner.
We all stopped to stare at it with cries of
" Fair crack of the whip" and I want me cards (employment cards necessary in England to get a job)
The boss holds them while you are working for him.
The Jerry civvy began shouting "Lose,lose,arbiet, arbiet,(Hurry, hurry, work, work)" and he pushed the nearest bloke to him towards the sand and made motions to dig, the Guard who was sitting on the grass about fifty yards away was busy picking his teeth with a match and didn't seem to be interested.
The bloke who had been pushed by the civvy just stood there.
The civvy went to push him again at the same time mouthing "Arbiet, arbiet" but he got the shock of his life when the bloke lifted the shovel like a double handed sword and snarled at the German the next f-'n' step will be yerr last.
"F--k off you kraut back stud or I'll do ya".
By this time the Guards interest had been aroused and he ambled over and pointed the rifle at our bloke and warbled "Lose, arbiet"
But I think our bloke had pulled the plug and he was not about to back down.
We were in it together so we stuck together and when one bloke said "Posten" (Guard) the Guard looked at him and the bloke pointed to the Guards rifle and held up four fingers then pointed to each of us in turn.
The Guard got the message, at most he could, if fast enough have shot four blokes but then he would have to reload and realizing this he lowered the rifle because he knew if he shot one he in turn would be killed.
Then one of our blokes snarled at the German Civvy, "Englander Kriegsgefangenen " (British P.O.W.) p--s off square 'ed."
It was a stalemate until midmorning when a natty dressed Civvy came with another one who could translate, more or less.
He got the gist of the situation and explained at great length to the top man who in turn had a lot of heated words with the Civvy who had started it all.
So we thrashed out the details, no we were not going to load two trains on the trot we needed a rest in between",
"OK! but well how long a rest"?" asked the Civvy
How about the rest of the day?" suggested one of our Chaps.
" Let's be serious Gentlemen" and we suggested" "OK how about one train per hour"

It was bandied back and forth then the Civvy Gent realized it was getting past lunch time and no more wagons had been filled also the Commando at the other end would be idle, so without more ado he agreed to our terms and we went back to work.

But the crafty so and so moved starting time up one hour so we retaliated by going slow.
Well we had agreed to one skip per hour, that's four in the morning and four in the after noon total eight.
But now he alters the start time an hour that means six extra loads per week.
Not on.
So we parried by going slow, now he is getting five a day six if he's lucky.

The Guard meanwhile is there only to see no one escapes he wants no part of what's going on and stresses this in no uncertain terms when the Civvy appeals to him to make us work faster.

They threatened to shoot some of us and one of our barrack room lawyers drawled "I thought Germans were intelligent, obviously I was wrong, how stupid can you get, the more you shoot the less work gets done."

Heads were nodded to the validity of this statement.
So they tried another angle, let's make them work Sundays, so we agreed.
There were smiles all round.
Until our bloke pointed out that in England when a holiday is worked you got paid double time or two days off in lue thereof.
"Bat ve air not in England" to which our man replied "Yea well that makes it worse still don't it, cos normally we would get workin away from 'ome allowance I think it's called 'ardship money, I think i'm right in sayin that ain't I Chalky.
"Chalky White nodded in agreement while trying desperately to keep a straight face. "
"Bat ve air at var"
"To which our bloke replied "I know that," "You know that ", but he said" Try telling it to our shop steward"
By now the Jerry is slowly edging round the twist, purple in the face now he throws up his arms "Vat ist a shop stevart"? "Yo don hev shop stevart in chormany "
Quick as a flash someone said ,"No mate you got some thin' a lot bleedin' worse, you got bleedin' 'itler "personally I'd raa'ver 'ave bleedin' foul pest or Colorado bleedin' beetle,
f-k 'itler, and like a mob of monks some others intoned "Aahhmmen"
This bickering was finally resolved when the powers that be understood they had a time bomb waiting to go off, and only needed the right jolt.
So they finally accepted a proposal set by our blokes who had worked it out and it worked like a charm.
They decided and Jerry accepted eight wagons a day.
We queried even if we fill them all by three o clock.
They laughed "Ya ya, you cen fill zem by midday ent go beck to zer Lager".
So we did, and most days they were filled by midday.
And during summer it was nice just lounging all afternoon by the pool in the camp.

By the way the system of work proposed by us and accepted so readily by the Bosch was called "Pensum arbiet."
In English it is known as peace work (a quota)
That really got up Jerry's nose, and when the bloke in the posh suit came to see the Commandant he was told to nick off, a bargain is a bargain he was politely informed.

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