大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War Site by Suzanne Longstone and has been added to the website on behalf of Mr Ivor Lipscombe with his permission and he fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

Parts 1 and 2 of my story tell you about my capture and injury in France, and life in Stalag 20B 鈥� a POW Camp near Marienberg on the German-Russian border.

We left that camp at 2am on 24th February 1945. 鈥楯ust a few hours march to a new camp鈥�, we were told the evening before, but during the night we heard heavy gunfire to our north-east. At 1am the order came 鈥� 鈥楤e ready to move at 2am.鈥� There was two feet of snow, it was still snowing and we were marched non-stop until 4pm with all our possessions strapped to our backs. There was no new camp to stop at. We were herded into a large field with no cover. The little food we had in our packs was frozen and without a fire we had no means of thawing it. The German guards in the surrounding fields had fires but all we could do was look. We put on every item of clothing that we possessed plus a blanket, and kept walking round and round that ruddy field. The temperature dropped to 16 degrees below freezing (Fahrenheit). At 6am we were on the move again, leaving behind two of our lads and one guard. They had fallen asleep and died, frozen.

Another night, after marching all day in deep snow, we sheltered in a large, old barn. We slept on two inches of straw but still shivered all night as the wind blew in through the large six inch gap under the double doors. However, it proved to be a blessing in the end as there was room for a hen to slip through early in the morning with the idea of laying an egg. In ten minutes I had that bird killed, plucked, cleaned and tucked down my trouser leg on the way to a pot boiling at the back of the barn! Five of us had a nice, hot meal. The feathers, giblets etc got hidden under the straw and we weren鈥檛 caught, thank God.

On another occasion I was scouting around at dawn, looking for the farmer鈥檚 potato pit. (I robbed quite a few during that long march.) You had to burrow through, part the straw, pinch a few potatoes and then put it all back nicely. Both the guards and the farmers knew we did it and turned a blind eye, but this time there were no potatoes. Instead I found a swede and a few carrots which I took back to the barn and hid. Back outside again I saw the guard on patrol and stopped to say 鈥楪ood morning鈥�. We both stood there looking up at the trees where some rooks were making a racket. I noticed his rifle.
鈥淒oes it work?鈥� I asked.
鈥淛a鈥� he answered.
鈥淏ut French rifles don鈥檛 shoot straight鈥� I said.
鈥淛a鈥�. Same reply.
Knowing one of my mates still had a couple of English cigarettes and pointing to the tree still black with squawking birds I bet him that he couldn鈥檛 hit one of the birds. He won the cigarette (he could hardly have missed!) and we won boiled rook, swede and carrots for dinner!

Another night we were locked in a large barn after marching all day in heavy snow. My boots were sodden and my feet wet and freezing. I took my boots off, buried them in the straw and slept on them. Next morning my boots were frozen stiff and I couldn鈥檛 get them on. There was only one option. I got some of the lads to urinate on them and thaw then enough for me to get them on my feet ready for the next day鈥檚 march.

The Russians by now had made a scissor advance to the south and west, so we moved northwards to an island called 鈥楽winemunde鈥�, crossing over a narrow bridge. For the next two days a freezing blizzard kept us marooned on the island, and in our explorations for food we were amazed to discover stacks of bombs, ready to use. We realised that the whole island was a missile launching site and found out when we got back to the UK that they were doodlebugs. After Swinemunde we went on to Zechering. The conditions were bitterly cold and freezing. We were all getting colder and weaker and a lot of us had frostbitten feet, hands, ears and noses. We had lost the guards 鈥� they had probably been dropped back to hinder the Russian advance. The Germans had received news that the Allied Forces had penetrated Holland and was advancing to the Rhine, so we changed direction and went due south until we reached Magdeburg. This was a largish city that had been flattened by Allied Bombers. The streets were piled high with rubble and rats had the freedom of the city. We stayed in some huts on the outskirts for twelve days with rations of soup, bread and sausage that was well-past its sell by date!

March 11th saw us setting off again. By now the snow was melting and the hedges and banks showing green shoots. This gave us fresh dandelion leaves and wild onion tops and kept us going until 26th April when we reached the village of Cossa. Although we didn鈥檛 know it at the time, it was to be our last night in captivity. We split up and were put in sheds and barns for the night. Next morning I was out foraging and found some potatoes when I noticed a young woman standing in the doorway of the farmhouse. 鈥極h no, that鈥檚 me done for鈥� I thought, but no 鈥� she gave me a greeting which I returned. Then she asked what I was doing. I told her the truth and she offered to cook the potatoes and asked me inside. There was very little furniture and the floors were bare. I left the potatoes with her for half an hour and then went back into the farmhouse kitchen. There was a noise of vehicles and shouting from outside in the road. The lady came running back from the front window, tears running down her cheeks, a little girl in her arms.
鈥淲ar is finished. Come. Look.鈥�
Out of the window I saw three jeeps, American officers and soldiers, and there were our German guards, handing over their arms! The next incident I will never forget. I went into the barn where most of the two hundred or so POWs were still asleep. I woke my own mates first, then I went around banging a boot and mess tin together, making merry hell! You ought to have heard the language I got! When I shouted that the Yanks were outside I had to run for my life 鈥� they didn鈥檛 believe me! Anyway, they followed me outside and then they had to believe me! I went back into the house and thanked the lady. She and her daughter had fled from the bombing at Magdeburg, found the house empty and stayed there. Her husband was a Naval officer, a POW in England. In his letters to her he said the English had treated him very well. Her way of saying 鈥榯hank you鈥� was to cook the potatoes even though she knew the risk. I hope her husband returned safely.

From then on the Yanks were very good to us. They fed us and even made us some tea. We stayed the night in a field and next morning we were taken to Halle. There I developed enteritis. I was stripped of all my clothing, covered in powder, bathed and put into hospital. My feet and hands were treated for frostbite by being bathed and powdered every morning. My weight had gone down to seven stone, so I was drip-fed for the next four days and carried to and from the toilet. I was only allowed out of bed two weeks later. I and two dozen others were flown to Rheims hospital and were there when the Armistice was signed. Some American soldiers got shot during the celebrations I remember. The next morning we were flown back to England 鈥� home!

My everlasting thanks go to the Americans, to our medical staff who looked after us when we got home, and to our loved ones 鈥� wives, sweethearts, mums and dads 鈥� for their kindness and tolerance. We all returned different men to the ones we had been before we left. I end by saying what millions throughout the world should be saying. 鈥淭hank God for Great Britain!鈥�

Parts 1 and 2 of Ivor's story can be read at A7811796 and A7812100 .

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