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'This story was submitted to the People’s War site by a volunteer from CSV London on behalf of Douglas Charles Chandler and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

Italian POW camp

It was Christmas Eve 1942 and the start of what turned our to be almost 4 years confinement in POW camps across Italy and Germany. Many grim experiences followed, and indeed there were many occasions when we recalled the comparative comfort of the extremely cramped quarters under the torpedoes tubes for 5 days with only a bucket for a toilet.

Next followed what was to be the commencement of waiting periods of anything from one hour to 24 hrs. This lasted throughout the time of captivity, for the next four years nothing happened on schedule and it seemed as if a significant part of the POW Camp strategy was to drive prisoners insane by keeping them waiting for indeterminate times, especially when there was the promise of food, however small the amount. (It is interesting that to this day Dad has always been an absolute Saint in taking or picking up my Brother or I at any time of the day or night, whether from Scout night exercises or sports games…..but Alan and I learnt quickly, that Dad doesn’t like to wait). The length of this first wait is vague now, but we were eventually driven through Toranto to the Station, where six of us were to be in the care of a Company of the Italian Army. This great numerical advantage no doubt gave them the confidence to push us around, which of course was to get worse as time went on. Next part of the journey was by normal train in a reserved carriage, but the first and last in such posh conditions. We were pretty tired and none of us really remember much of the journey, although one of the guards had been to America and therefore spoke some English, and wanted to discuss Jazz, positively our last thought. Our arrival that same evening was at Bari, Prigionere de Guerra, Campo 65. In this camp we met one of the creatures who was generally regarded as one of the most horrible any of us had ever met. This violent monster was a Capitano in charge of the Transit Camp.

He saw to it that all papers and personal belongings were stripped from us, and he himself conducted the interrogations. His knowledge of languages went only as far as many of his underlings who could speak only an odd word or two in English. This did not stop him exerting his supremacy. However during this first encounter the Capitano concluded that we were quite clever, after one of our wags pointed out that we could speak many languages including American, New Zealand, Welsh Scottish and so on. Fortunately there was always a comedian in our ranks who could be counted on to lift our spirits even in the most dire of situations; and often in situations where to laugh out loud could cost yours or someone else’s life. I often think that these men deserved some extra recognition, you have no idea how valuable it is to have you spirit lifted above the many horrendous ordeals which were yet to come. Sadly the Capitano always got the “last laugh” with his vindictive behaviour, and was very quick to have someone executed. We can only hope now that sometime during the 60 or so years since the war this miserable parasite was somehow brought to justice and held to account for his actions.

A few of our officers were encamped in a hut along the road beside a canal, which was now dried up, as result of one of the early paratroop raids of the war. Now late Christmas Eve we lay on the floor in a small room and chatted for a time, speculating on what Christmas day might bring. In spite of our position we were in reasonably good spirits; after all the thought of a Christmas day anywhere for various reasons would brighten up the darkest situation. The day dawned cold and bright and proved to be a day to remember. First on the programme was a walk to a small site, obviously temporary, where we had to strip completely a11 our clothes were taken away to a steamer. The Italians who had come down from the Admin Section were beginning to enjoy the show, but no doubt the reader can appreciate our feelings. We were ushered into a large tented shower bath. The water came through steaming hot for a few minutes and then freezing cold. However we were glad of the chance to wash down; it had been many weeks since we had had this luxury. Then was to come further humiliation of the day. One by one we were sat out in the open for all to see and our head shaved. Of course, we at the end of the queue had a good laugh at the first victims Later when we got a glimpse of ourselves in a small chrome mirror someone had managed to hang on to we were shocked. Have you ever had your head shaved?? At least we’d created the Yule Bryner years before his time. It was a Christmas day none of our little party will ever forget, but we were still alive and ever optimistic that soon we’d get released.

We were then sent down to a tent, which had been made up by joining a number of ground sheets together. Here we met half a dozen others, a mixture of our own forces. One an airman who had various horrifying adventures in the Desert, he’d managed to get his plane off the ground a second time only to be forced down again and then had to walk for two days without food or water. Then stumbled into Bardia to find, like us that he’d been under the wrong impression…our own troops had already left. Another was a South African Airman, and then there was an infantryman who had lived as a civilian in Crete, a tough chap from the East End in London. We only spent a few days together before being split up. Food seemed to be scarce in this area, even to the local Country folk. We often saw old people appear at the Italian cookhouse and collect whatever was available for a meal. Only one good thought remains from this particular camp and that was that we did admire the work of a quiet Italian soldier who seemed to work entirely on his own building a dry stone wall, using a rough adze as his only tool.

During the following weeks the Commandant was having a site prepared, we presumed, for a building. He forced everyone to dig in the clay and gravel area. No one was exempt, even the badly wounded from the Officer's hut. There was one poor chap whose left leg was almost useless, having been badly shot up; another whose arm and wrist seemed to have set and fused in a twist. Two Officers had attempted an escape from here, got through the wire, but had been picked up. The Commandant paraded the entire camp and forced the escapees to show him how they got through the wire, and then while they were demonstrating he had them shot in front of their peers.

Escape plans
We were not idle during this time, and an escape committee was formed and quietly preparations were made for another attempt. It was only a short run under the hut to the disused canal, and a digging force went into action. This hut had conveniently been built on 3 ft. brick piers and in charge of the operations was an Engineer Officer from the Indian Army. He organised the task force into shifts and digging through the soil commenced. The surplus was lacked between these brick piers and everything went well until we almost reached the side of the canal. Two or three were chosen as the first to go — their intentions were vague but it was assumed that by following down the bottom of the canal they would find an outlet to the sea. A boat might be available ….it didn’t really matter the prime thought was to get out. All the planning, possible suggestions, collection of rations from those willing to part with them was to no avail, because unfortunately among our little number there was fifth column. Two Africaans were very pro German. These two had acted as our orderlies and had access to Italian quarters while collecting rations. They had consumed vino and were no doubt persuaded to show themselves in their true colours. The discovery of the tunnel was made out to be A “Coincidence” because suddenly one afternoon, instructions came down from the Commandant that everyone could go for a walk. This seemed so much out of character that our suspicions were aroused. While out the Commandant casually walked in, had a bed removed, a floorboard lifted, and discovered the entrance to the tunnel. The senior Officer here was a New Zealand Padre, and he was singled out to take the punishment jail for 50 days. The jail was in our view, a single 8' square dark building with just a slot window, probably a pillbox. The Commandant was delighted to lead him off, punching him about on the way. The two Africans were never seen again, they left for better quarters??

A Mixed bunch
Other arrivals were filtering in and our number was up to about 50 to 60. Suddenly we were surprised to see two Russians. They did not join us at first but were put into the jail. We were impressed by their size and bearing, and particularly with their padded, uniforms, for we were beginning to feel the cold. In fact we had snow at this time, just our luck again. It was the first in Southern Italy for 60 years. We from England were not impressed but some of our New Zealand and South African troops found it a great novelty. The Russians were made to work but away from us, and their job was to saw tree trunks. Although several of the Guards, and the Capitano Commandant himself, shouted and waved their arms at them, their slow speed did not increase. Later we were able to talk with them as best we could, one was very musical and often sang. There was no doubt the Italians were very apprehensive of their country ever being over run by Russians.

We were a mixed bunch here. A young Indian lad continued in spite of many adversities, to carry out his own religious rites, often being up before dawn and kneeling in prayer for several hours. A couple of Yugoslavs, one in a particularly bad state, being bent double, but he managed to keep up a very bright outward appearance. We acquired a razor and were able to shave one another occasionally and keep ourselves as tidy as we could. Of course we only had one blade and eventually had to sharpen it, someone came up with the method of rubbing the blade round the inside of a glass, very slow but it made sufficient difference to enable shaving way beyond the manufacturer’s wildest thoughts. This was just one of an almost infinite variety of inventions. It is truly amazing how creative and inventive men can be in times of dire need.

Rations we tried to work out as fairly as possible, very difficult, as there was never enough to go round. On one occasion we received a lump of cheese and I was designated to divide it up for over 100 men of all nationalities. Sitting at the table I carefully cut the cheese into equal pieces about one inch square. Meantime a crowd of about 30 men gathered round, glancing up it looked like an amphitheatre. Everyone was anxiously licking their chops in anticipation; cheese was a very rare treat. Towards the end of the cutting process we were short and so I piled up little piles of cheese crumbs. There was plenty of advice to increase this pile and reduce that one etc, but nobody touched until the division was complete then I meted the portions out one at a time. The temptation to pop a crumb or two in my mouth was high as we were all perpetually hungry, but to even contemplate such a move would have been suicide.

The diet was unusual for us, and upset some people. General conditions were deteriorating due to the increase in number of prisoners and finally a second hut was used. We were allowed to walk out into a small area during the day but at night we were locked in our huts, and not allowed out to ablutions, but they left a small container inside the hut for our use. By continual agitation and banging on the door the Guard finally agreed to open the door just far enough to let one person out, empty the container, and return. It was soon apparent this Camp was an embarrassment to the Italians and something had to be done. There was one Officer here at the time that could speak English. He had apparently represented Italy in the Olympic games, and he was a much more reasonable person to speak to. He told us that in a short time we would be moving off to a permanent camp. Of course the picture he painted of it may have been as he thought it was - there would be Red Cross parcels, a Swiss Legation in attendance,……in fact a home from home!!!.

This of course we couldn’t believe, but we did hope for something rather better than we had up-to-date.

Stalag XVIII C, which turned out to become our Permanent Camp

In the morning we moved off through the village, which was very mean looking with many very poor people. This was part of the agricultural area of the country, while the rich and educated were in the industrial north. Soon we boarded cattle trucks, the mode of transport for most prisoners of war it seemed. First we were moved up through Italy to Moderno where we were billeted for a few weeks and here we had quite a good size field where we could play soccer. Teams representing the various counties played “internationals” and it was during one of these games when a group of German tanks appeared and forced us back into our units, they turned their guns at us when we did not obey. It was a few days later that we were moved again, this time over the Alps and down into Austria and Markt Pongau for several days with only sparse accommodation.
With no means of heating water for tea or coffee which a few of us had saved, we were stuck until a resourceful electrician discovered he could get power directly from the overhead lines. By carefully putting the two bare high voltage wires into a container of water the water boiled almost instantly. This was fine most of the time though it browned out the lights in the camp. Sometimes if the wires moved or the person holding the cup moved the wired contacted the bottom of the metal cup and the bottom fell out instantly, this always brought a cheer from the crowd. This only lasted a couple of days before a guard discovered how the lights were being dimmed.

Please go to A4518533 for thenext section of this story, part 6

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