大象传媒

I did not know what caused a change of attitude with him, but a short time afterwards I was released.
Apart from minor colds the prisoners maintained good health with one exception.Richardson had first gone down with what we thought was flue. When his condition did not improve, I asked that he be seen by a doctor who on examining him, had him admitted to hospital.Continually over the following days I asked permission to visit the sick Bombardier.My requests were ignored. One day whilst talking to one of the Italian soldiers, Richardson's name was brought into the conversation. I was appalled when the Italian let slip that the young Bombardier had died. The news had a devasting effect on the prisoners. I confronted the Commandant wanting confirmation of what I had heard, but was told nothing. I next requested that if Richardson was alive and still in hospital that I be allowed to visit him, or if he had died, then a representative number of the prisoners be permitted to visit the grave.My request were ignored. The final outcome was that neither Sergeant Potter nor Bombardier Richardson ever returned to the camp and there was never any confirmation as to what had really happened to them. The camp strength was now reduced to forty-eight.
Dissatisfied and unhappy with what was happening I again wrote to the camp leader at Campo 82.
The weeks passed into months. There was a general feeling of well being. Mail and parcels sent by relatives had started arriving.A certain amount of undercover bartering was going on between the prisoners and the civilians and even with the military escorts.The most pleasing and satisfying aspect for me was that the prisoners had knuckled down and accepted the camp life with all its conditions and discipline. It must have been three months after we had arrived at the camp that the camp was visited by a delegation from the Red Cross. I was called to the office when they arrived. There were two civilians who I thought could be Swiss and accompanying them were two Italian Army Officers, and much to my surprise a German Army officer. They had a quick tour of the living accommodation and spoke to a few of the prisoners. It was the civilians who engaged the prisoners in conversation; the military in the party seemed to be just hangers on Whilst in the office and before they left, I brought up the subject of the escape of Sergeant Potter and of the illness of Bombardier Richardson. I made emphasise on the fact that although I had been informed by the Commandant that Potter had been recaptured this had never been officially confirmed to me. Additionally I had been kept in ignorance of Richardson's death and that there was a lack of communication between the main prisoner of war camp at Laterina an myself..
They made notes but did not question the Italian commandant in my presence. They also failed to give me any answers to my questions and as far as I was concerned, nothing more ever came of it.
Taking everything into consideration the prisoner's health on the whole was very good excepting that some of them began to suffer dental problems. I kept reporting how some of them were suffering badly from toothache. Finally I was told the day when a dentist would visit the camp and that all men requiring dental treatment would remain in camp on that day. The camp office was taken into use as the dental surgery.
The actual dentist was a civilian, but accompanying him was an Italian medical officer. All those requiring dental treatment were lined up outside the office and I had to call them in when it was their turn to be dealt with. Foremost in the queue was a young New Zealand corporal who I knew had been suffering great pain from toothache.
There was no chloroform or any form of anaesthetic being administered. It was a difficult extraction and when it was all over the young corporal was ushered out of the office and pass the others waiting their turn outside.
I realised that there was to be no fillings, only extractions.I was surprised to see that the New Zealand corporal had rejoined the queue.
"What are you doing here?" I asked him. Through the blood stained handkerchief that he was holding to his mouth he muttered. "The silly bastard - he took out the wrong tooth."
The one thing that we all lacked was news of the progress of the war.If only the prisoners had known that in the early part of July the Eighth Army they had fought with had now landed in Italy.
About late August the Tenenti left. His successor was the complete opposite. Whereas the previous commandant was young, the new commandant was very much older and he gave the impression of being a reservist
Life in the camp became much easier. The old commandants going seemed to have lifted a burden from us all and there was a different atmosphere prevailing. One of the newfound liberalizations was that on a Sunday afternoon the prisoners were allowed out of camp under escort for what was termed a recreational walk. It was popular and heavily subscribed.The prisoners had to form up and be marched as a group.
The outing would take place in the cool of the late afternoon thus avoiding the hot afternoon sun. The men always spruced up for the occasion would march singing through the village. Once clear of the village we would relax into a comfortable walk. On reaching the main road we would break off and lounge on the high grass banks eager to watch any traffic that might pass.
It was on the 8th of September, a Sunday that I would long remember that the quiescent life style and equanimity that we had got used to was to be rudely shattered. It had been a gorgeous sunny afternoon and we had stayed out longer than usual As was the custom on approaching the village, I gave the order for them to march to attention.
It was usual for a few of the villagers to come out of their houses to watch the marching prisoners, but on this early evening there seemed to be more of them than usual. There was a larger group than normal outside the church and as we neared them a figure who was instantly recognised as the village priest, broke free and ran towards us.
Hitching up his skirts with one hand he hurried towards us. His other hand was raised above his head in what looked like some form of benediction, or did he want us to halt? He was clearly excited and as he drew nearer we could hear his stringent voice proclaiming - "PACE - PACE."
He burst among us forcing us to stop and then the people came and crowded among us. The men broke ranks, at first they were bewildered at what was happening, but then it became clear to them, the Priest had been shouting PEACE. Their minds jumped to the seemingly impossible. Had the Germans surrendered? Was the war now over? Then the excited villagers were telling them that it had been announced on the wireless that the Italians had surrendered unconditionally to the Allies.
There was no question of an orderly formation marching back to camp. Intermingled together, the whole crowd of prisoners, their escorts and villagers all returned to the camp together. The Italian soldiers were seemingly dazed by what was happening and were swept along by the excited and jubilant throng.
That evening although there was still a sentry on the gate nothing was done to stop the locals from entering the compound and mixing with the prisoners. Someone had brought along an accordion, the beds were pushed back to make space for dancing and late into the evening there was the sound of music and revelry.
I watching the dancing was disinclined to join in the celebrations. I reasoned that they were entitled to every scrap of pleasure they could get, especially on this particular evening.
Nevertheless, my mind was full of foreboding, something somewhere was not right. The Italians might have capitulated, but the question I kept asking myself was - What about the Germans? I considered that they would be quick to react against the Italians. Their vengeance against those that had betrayed them would be quick and no doubt brutal. There was also the question of what action they would be taking as regards the prisoner of war camps?
The following morning the work parties were kept in camp and a sentry was barring civilians from entering the compound and any prisoners from leaving. At the office I found that there was confusion as to what really was happening. Rumours were rife; one being that the Americans had landed parachute troops in Rome. Another was that the British had made a sea borne landing at Livorno, which was only about eighty kilometres from the camp. I also discovered that the commandant had left camp the previous evening. The Corporale Maggiore said that he had gone to Army headquarters to clarify the position as regards the prisoners.
Whilst I was in the office the Fattore called in to enquire what would be the future working arrangements for the prisoners. I took the opportunity to talk to him of the many rumours now circulating. The up-shot of it all was that the Fattore took me to his house to listen to a radio. Faintly and with continual interruptions by crackling atmospherics we eventually managed to hear a British news summary.
It was now confirmed that the Allies had landed on the mainland of Italy.There was no mention of the rumoured landings at Livorno and as I had suspected the Germans had already reacted violently against the capitulating Italian troops.That afternoon I called a meeting of all the prisoners. I told them of what I had heard over the radio and endeavoured to outline all that I knew of the situation. When summing up I emphasised the dangerous predicament that we were facing and as far as I could determine we had two options.
Their first was to stay where we were in the hopes that the Germans faced by the advancing Allies would quickly retreat to form a defensive line somewhere in the north of the country. There was also the chance that the Allies, aware of the location of the prisoner of war camps, might come to their aid in the form of an airborne landing. However, I highlighted the danger we could be in by staying, there was always the likelihood that the Germans would remove them to Germany before the Allies could reach them.
The second option I gave was for a mass escape from the camp and for them to head south in an endeavour to meet up with our own forces. With either choice there was danger, possibly more so from the second one, because an escaped prisoner could be shot. If they stayed put, then the chances were that they would see out the war in a German Prisoner of War Camp.
I ended my appraisement of the situation by telling them that it would now be putt to a vote, stressing the fact that they had to be unanimous in their decision, in other words everyone went, or everyone stayed, but whatever choice they made, I himself would go along with it.
When I had finished talking there was an excited buzz of conversations as they talked it over between them. Then one of them addressed me from the bed on which he was sitting.
"I would like to ask you a question Sarge. If you didn't have us, in other words, you were on your own, what would you do?"
"I would go, and as soon as possible," I said.There was a further buzz of conversation, but the final and unanimous result of the vote, was that they should go.
Before the meeting broke up I suggested to them that they travel in pairs, certainly a group should not exceed three. Also I advised against anyone travelling alone. They did not know what lie ahead of them and they might be glad of company.
As regards myself, I had talked it over with Clem and the two of us had decided to travel together.
After darkness I got hold of the key of the Red Cross parcel store and issued the parcels between them. Unfortunately the stock was low.
That same evening I found out that a few of the Italians had deserted and that the commandant had not returned the opinion was that the commandant rather than face the Germans had also seen fit to lose himself among the civilian masses.
We planned the breakout for the following dawn. When it did happen we found no sentry at the locked gate. The gate was smashed open and the few remaining Italian soldiers offered no great resistance. More of the sentries had absented themselves during the night and with them had gone the Corporale Maggiore.
Getting away from the camp was the first objective. With the sun yet to rise above the roofs of the houses we headed for a copse of trees that circled the summit of a small hill about a quarter of a mile away. It had been the original intention to shelter and hide in the small wooded area for the rest of the day and then to leave under the cover of darkness of the following night. We were only too aware how in daylight our red-patched prisoner of war uniform would attract attention.
As the morning wore on and revelling in the euphoria of their new found freedom and the impatience to be away soon got the better. In pairs, sometimes in threes they slipped quietly away.
By midday they had all left, Clem and I were the last to leave. We would have left the area completely had it not been for meeting a contadini farmer who persuaded us to shelter at his farm and to leave after darkness. To get to the farm we had to pass the camp now completely abandoned and desolate. The farm was a few hundred yards past the camp The contadini showed us to a loft in one of the farms outbuildings where we settled ourselves in the hay whilst waiting for the afternoon to pass. It must have been mid-afternoon when the farmer returned and gave me a small package. He said that the young village schoolmistress had asked him to give it to the Sergenti Maggiore. Unwrapping it, I found that it contained a map of Italy on a page torn from a child's school atlas and with it was a small compass in a cream celluloid casing.
Marie said to tell you that it may be of help to you in getting to your own people." We had barely finished packing our haversacks,when the farmer in great panic came rushing into the barn and half mounting the ladder frantically called out to us.
"The Germans are coming. They have been seen leaving the main road and are on their way here. They will be here in five or ten minutes - Quick hurry." We grabbed up our belongings and clambered down the ladder. By the time we reached the bottom rung the Italian with fear written all over his face had opened the back door leading into the yard. There was no time to exchange words or to even thank him.
Rushing out through the open door we ran across the yard making for a ditch that separated the two fields at the back of the farm. The ditch with an earthed up embankment acted as a fence between the two fields. The trench running away from the buildings was quite deep. It was only a few weeks earlier that the prisoners had cleaned it out in preparation for the expected heavy autumn rain.
Bending double so as not to be seen we stumbled and ran over it's rough and uneven bottom. At intervals along its length and on the banks were the odd tree and clumps of bushes. In some places where it shallower out, our bobbing running figures could be seen. As we ran, the sound of vehicles entering the village spurred us on to greater effort.
The trench finally met up with another running at right angles to it and we were forced out into the open. Panting and gasping for breath we struggled up the bank and rushed for a line of trees some eighty to a hundred yards away.
Entering the trees and near to exhaustion by the long difficult run there was a slight relief in knowing that we could no longer be seen from the camp, but there could be no stopping, we had to press on. We could not resist looking back in the direction of the houses and the camp, but could see nothing; there was not even the sound of the vehicle engines.
We were about to move off when there was a burst of automatic fire coming from the general direction of the houses and the camp. Clem glanced apprehensively at me.
"What's that?" he asked.
Before I could reply, there were a further three or four single shots.
"Lets get to hell out of here, Clem said."
With the camp at our back we plunged deeper into the depths of the wood and unbeknown to us at the time, into a period of depression, hardship and danger, which would make our previous imperilments pale into insignificance.
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