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This story was submitted to the People's War site by Elizabeth Perez of Stockport Libraries on behalf of Bill Stafford and has been added to the site with his permission. Bill Stafford fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Bill Stafford鈥檚 Memoirs 4 鈥� a R.A.F. barber in occupied Germany

After the Normandy Landings Bill Stafford spent an enjoyable period in Brussels 鈥� which had just been liberated. Bill and his comrades had received a tremendous welcome from the Belgians but now he was to be posted to Bad Eilsen in Germany

鈥淣o sooner had got into the guard room to report back, when I was informed that I had to see the Commanding Officer at once. He said that I had to pack my 鈥� Box of tricks鈥� that same night as our armies were moving up for the Rhine crossing. We were going to re-assume our position of being 5 miles behind the front lines and we would be maintaining this position as and when we advanced into Germany. The following morning, box all packed: back on a wagon, back in convoy. We were on our way again and I never even had a chance to say goodbye.

The journey from Brussels up to the Rhine was lengthy, tedious, dusty and generally uncomfortable and indeed the fighting was still going on. Although we had a good number of stops this made our situation too uncertain to do much and of course we were unable to leave the vicinity of our convoy. But this did not stop me from using my " Box of tricks" again as a barber鈥檚 chair, albeit at the roadside and for very short periods.

Eventually we arrived at our last stopping place before the crossing, and as before the Channel crossing, we were forced to wait until our armies had established a strong foothold on the other side of at least 5 miles deep which would enable us once more to take up our designated position to the rear of the front lines.

When we did actually make the crossing, it was the most exciting part of our journey. The Royal Engineers had constructed a 鈥淧ontoon Bridge鈥� which was our only means of crossing. There were no rails at the sides, and the bridge itself was only just wide enough to take the wheels of the trucks. The bridge moved up and down and from side to side with alarming inconsistency as it was affected by the water and the weight of the trucks. The vehicles were only allowed to cross one at a time because the weight and movement of one would make it impossible for another. The drivers were biting their nails down to the quick (and so were we).

We all got over safely to the other side and we continued until we arrived at a small town called Suchteln, where we stayed for several days. We stayed in a commandeered ex-mental hospital, it was nice to have a bed again. But we were haunted by the evidence of the former occupants. There were rooms with lots of shelves full of jars containing gruesome exhibits preserved in formalin, with labels indicting what they were, and the type of diseases which they had suffered from, and in a large number of cases the experiments which they were being used for. There were rooms containing brains from males and females, new born children up to the very elderly (one I noticed was from a woman of 103 years of age). There were other rooms containing every other parts / organs of the body with equally descriptive labels. It is a wonder anyone slept at all. Forgive the macabre descriptions but because of my earlier experiences in the crash room at Hooton Park and the R.A.F. Hospital at Wilmslow, I could not help but be fascinated by it all. Nor could I help wondering about the suffering behind it all and its probable causes. The possibilities / and probabilities were horrifying.

After a very short stay at Suchteln we set off on what was to be the last leg of our journey. We were sorry to lose our beds but in truth we were glad to see the back of the old mental hospital. We kept going for a few days, but with several short stops along the way. The news on the radio and via official channels was very encouraging, and it looked certain that the war would soon be over. We then arrived at what was the vacated German Garrison town of Buckeburg, where we took over several large buildings including a schloss ( a large castle type building). This was to become our headquarters. The information that was given out was that we were no longer required to maintain our position of being 5 miles behind the front and that we would be staying in Buckeburg for some time.

Once more this was wishful thinking. The 2nd Tactical Air Force as we were then, consisted of, The 2nd. T.A.F. Advance Party (which was us) and the 2nd T.A.F. Rear Party, who were mainly planning and admin, and who followed, keeping pace with us, but quite a good distance to the rear. It turned out that 2nd T.A.F. Rear were to move up into our position at Buckeburg, and we were to go forward once again.

This time we only moved a few miles up the road to a small but beautiful town which was in peace time, a "Spa" by the name of Bad Eilsen. We came to rest here, and here we stayed for the remainder of the war, and ultimately becoming, The British Air Forces of Occupation Operations (BAFO OPS). This was the longest time that I spent in one place during the six and a half years in the R.A.F. It was the most happy and eventful time of my whole life.

As we entered Bad Eilsen, it was like arriving at a holiday resort. The road led us on a winding route with a lovely crystal clear stream meandering alongside. This took us past some large single story wooden structures on both sides of the stream, then into a beautiful large park, with flower beds trees, and an ornamental band stand, slap bang in the middle, with the stream running past it. It was like being in a bowl with a massive hotel called the Furstenhoff Hotel on one side. On the other side were all the other usual types of properties that you would expect to find in an inland holiday resort extending half way up the forest covered hills which completely surrounded the town. The fir trees which covered the rest of the hills came right up to the backs of the properties. It was certainly very picturesque.

The large wooden buildings that had previously been the Fokker Wolf Planning dept. were to become our next temporary homes. They were full of rubbish, drawing boards etc. and half empty drawers and cupboards together with all the other signs of a hasty retreat. This we had to tidy up before we could get to kip.

The following morning on looking out of the windows, we could see directly into the clear waters of the stream that was right below. The stream was littered with small arms of every sort. There was a quick rush to try to grab some for souvenirs, they were soon confiscated, but I'm sure that some escaped.

The Furstenhoff Hotel became our headquarters as well as housing most of the senior officers. This included our commander in chief Lord Cunningham, Air Vice Marshal Sir Arthur Hopps, Air Marshal Sir Charles Wigglesworth and many more high rankers. Too many more to mention by name. The rear of the Furstenhoff Hotel faced onto the Park, the lower floor of which consisted of a line of shops running all the way along one side of the park. The first shop in the row was a very well appointed Ladies and Gents hairdressing salon, with a patio and veranda out front. Wonder of wonders, this was to become mine for the rest of my stay in Germany.

My occupancy of this salon was delayed by a very unpleasant incident, which left a very unpleasant taste in my mouth. I was rather surprised to realise that in war we could at times be almost as heartless as we knew from experience that the German armies had been. Running past the gable ends of the Furstenhoff Hotel and my salon to be was a road, with a wide grass bank sloping downwards between it and the gable ends. Someone had found in this sloping bank a mass grave containing the bodies of eleven British servicemen. We had an officer in charge of intelligence, who looked and acted as abrupt and domineering as any German officer that I have ever seen portrayed. He ordered every person in the town over ten years of age to be rounded up, and herded to this mass grave. We in turn were made to line the road with fixed bayonets, whilst these people, men, women and children, were paraded past the open grave and were made to stop and view the mangled bodies. Most of the women, who were mainly elderly, and the children were in tears. I doubted very much if any of these civilian people were in any way responsible for this, and certainly not the children. I felt sick, standing there with rifle and bayonet, because I knew that in many instances, force had to be used to induce some of them to come. It took a few days to clear up from this, the bodies were removed, the earth put back and re-grassed, until no signs remained.

I was then given possession of this salon that had been commandeered from its German owner. I was delighted with the salon. It was fully equipped down to the last detail, both for ladies and gents hairdressing. I would have been proud to have owned it in civvy street. This salon was to be mine to occupy for the rest of my time in the R.A.F. and it has many stories to tell. I settled into working in the salon and grew steadily busier, for as in the past whenever I came to a halt for any length of time, other units nearby heard that I was in action and visitors from all around started to come by. This pattern continued along the same lines until V.E. day.

For this we had a massive celebration which lasted for days. An aircraft was laid on to the U.K to bring the supplies for our parties, and the word went out 鈥� English beer! Sure enough the plane turned up with our beer which was dished out at a party in our mess, there was just enough for one pint each. We moaned long and loud at this, but in truth we were ecstatic, that the war in Europe 鈥渨as at last over鈥�.

Within days of this event it was made known that 2nd T.A.F. Rear were to leave Buckeburg and join us at Bad Eilsen and that we would be combined into one unit called The British Air Forces of Occupation. This would mean a complete restructuring of the chain of command. We retained our senior officers Lord Cunningham, Sir Arthur Hopps, Sir Charles Wigglesworth and Squadron Leader Dowling, but we were now to come under the overall command of Sir Shalto Douglass. 2nd T.A.F Rear brought with them a large number of W.A.A.F. personnel.

In order to cope with this influx, a lot of changes had to be made, the first thing that took place was the cancelling of the no fraternisation order. Next we had to employ many of the local people in all sorts of mundane jobs (for which they got paid in a small way). They even took on the hairdresser whose salon it was prior to it being commandeered and we also took on a ladies hairdresser to look after the W.A.A.F. personnel. There was not enough accommodation to cope with everyone, so the local people were forced to take many of us into their homes and I was placed with the Superintendant of the local Parks and Gardens. We got on fine after the initial tension was overcome.

Herr Voight whose salon it had previously been, seemed to bear no ill will towards me and we were to become very dear friends before very long. As I said earlier the salon was located to the rear and was part of the lower floor of the Furstenhoff Hotel, which was built on a slope. This meant that the ground floor and the front entrance of the hotel were one floor higher, and that the salon's rear door opened into the Hotel basement. The front entrance had a continuous guard on duty and all persons entering or leaving were searched and also booked in and out. These circumstances could only lead to one thing! The salon's rear door became famously known as 鈥淭he Barber鈥檚 Back Door鈥�.

All of the senior officers visited the salon on a regular basis, usually at intervals of about two weeks and expected to have my personal attention. They were the bosses, so there was no alternative. If they came to the salon and left from the front entrance of the H.Q. for security and formality reasons they would have had to come the short distance round the end of the building, by car, with a guard and escort and in full dress. Needless to say they all considered this to be unacceptable. The solution was to use the famous Back Door. Their P.A. usually an officer with the rank of no less than that of Flgt.Lt. would be sent round to the salon to make an appointment with me. Just before the agreed time I would clear the salon of all other customers, send the staff home, lock up and after making sure that the place was spotless, I would sit and wait. I was not frequently kept waiting long. There would be a knock at the famous "Back Door", which I would unlock, allowing the officer to enter (if the door had been unlocked when they arrived, I would have got a rollicking for neglecting security). Almost without exception the first thing that they did was to take off collar and tie, take off jacket, undo top button of their pants and exclaim, 鈥� Ha that's better!!!鈥� By this time the service that I was able to offer was as wide ranging as any civilian salon. This meant that more often than not we had quite a session and of course as happens in all barber鈥檚 shops, we talked, this made life very, very interesting, and the atmosphere was very relaxed. This was the main reason why the Barber鈥檚 Back Door became so well known. Even Monty passed through on one occasion (secretly of course). Not only V.I.P s used the door, but lots of other people and many objects, of which I must not say anymore.

To fully understand the relationships which developed and for me to avoid sounding big headed and so that it won't seem as if I am romancing, I must explain a little about the nature of hairdressing. In order to be any good as a hairdresser, anyone taking up the profession must learn the skills of conversation, and also work very hard in order to make themselves liked and trusted. Coming from a family of hairdressers these qualities were instilled into me long before I acquired my craftsmanship skills. It makes no difference how good a craftsman you become, if your customers do not like you they will not come back to you. Having worked hard to make themselves popular a hairdresser becomes everything from a father confessor to being the centre of their own little community.

This was no less so in the R.A.F. than it was in civvy street and also applied no matter what a person鈥檚 rank was. I like to think therefore that most of the personnel (including the W.A.A.F) thought of me as a friend. As things got more settled everyone gave most of their efforts towards making a better social life. We started to get both local and U.K leave. We had sports, entertainment, weekly dances, ice skating when the weather was cold enough (we flooded the tennis courts). We even had a Brass Band playing in the band stand in the park across from the entrance to my salon. Life became very pleasant again.

I applied for UK leave and was disappointed to be told that I could only have leave, when Sir Shalto took his leave. Disappointment turned to joy later when being told that he was due to go and that I was to travel with him on his personal aircraft, which was a much modified luxurious Dekota. The day of departure came. Together with his batman, his P.A. and his driver, we were told to be on board before he arrived. This we did and got an inside view of the departure ceremonial. The Air Crew together with all the senior officers lined up alongside the wing of the Dakota awaiting his arrival, when he came they all came to attention and saluted. Sir Shalto then shook hands with each of them and then came aboard. The steps were removed, the door closed, Sir passed down to his armchair seat, unbuttoning his tunic as he went and uttering the now familiar phrase 鈥淎h that鈥檚 better鈥�."

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