大象传媒

One of the RAF officers tried to escape via a window one night, and was met by a waiting guard and apprehended. We believed that the Germans were tipped off by someone who didn't want any reprisals, ie loss of privileges.
All the RAF were dispatched to Stalag Luft 6, which was NCOs, and Stalag Luft 3 which was for officers. Our party of five or six, escorted by three guards, began a five-day journey with unexpected events before we arrived at Nydekrug in East Prussia. The three guards had seen winter action on the Russian Front and had suffered quite badly. We were leaving a hospital situation and had obtained some first aid kits and medication etc, as well as Red Cross food parcels, to see us through the journey. Jimmy Wrigling, a PoW for 18 months, had learned to speak enough German to make conversation. On the train, one of the guards - Franz - looked ill and said he had a bad headache. Jimmy said "A cup of coffee and a couple of aspirins should put you right." "We don't have those things", said Franz. "Ah, but we do," said Jimmy, "but it is up to you to get boiling water as soon as the train stops." At the first stop, off went Franz to return with a very large jug of boiling water, and a cure for Franz was achieved. As none of us was fit enough to try to escape, this ensured that we got all the help they could give us over the next few days.
We used several different trains to travel from fairly close to Frankfurt through Halle, Berlin, Stettin and Konigsberg. During this time, they made sure that we had a carriage to ourselves, ate with them in German forces canteens, and overnight slept in waiting rooms which they cleared of any civilians. In Berlin, we saw a view of the Tiergarten (Zoo) from the train, and were spoken to by some Luftwaffe pilots who came into the canteen where we were having some food. There was not much bomb damage to be seen in Berlin at that time, compared to the almost total devastation by 1945.
In Konigsberg, we were allowed to walk from the station into a rather pleasant square and use the washroom and toilet. This town seemed untouched by the war and nobody gave us a second glance in spite of our uniforms. We eventually reached Nydekrug and, just before we were in sight from the gate, the three guards, Franz, Carl and Heinrich shook hands, wished us luck, and hoped this B..... war would soon be over. Putting on their best military style, they marched us up to the gate.
This was where being a PoW became a serious way of life. The camp was extremely well managed on behalf of the prisoners by the camp leader, Sgt Dixie Dean, who became a legend among PoWs who met or heard about him. The camp had as good a standard of facilities as could be expected, enjoyed by all, according to individual tastes: sports, library, theatre, debating society, study groups.
There was also the most efficient escape committee whose activities have been well documented by better informed people than I. Not all prisoners were interested in escaping, myself included, but there was 100% support for those who did, and, successful or not, their courage was admired. We also had a hidden radio on which daily news from the 大象传媒 was received, taken down in shorthand, and read out in each barrack hut. We all looked forward to this and followed the advance of the Russian Army as it got ever closer to us.
Everything changed one morning in July, when it was announced we were to be moved and could only take what we could carry. Everybody carried a couple of the library books, so at least part of that facility went with us. Many other things were left or destroyed.
We travelled, crammed into cattle trucks, without room to lie down except by taking turns, and no toilet facilities for about 36 hours before arriving at Stalag 357 at Thorne (Torun) in Poland. This was a camp for army PoWs, far below the standards which we had left. A large number went to another camp, and suffered very badly later on a winter march to rejoin us. After only 4 weeks, we were on the move again for another cattle truck journey which ended at Fallingbostel, some 20 miles from Hanover.
From September 1944 to the end of the war was the hardest time which we had to endure. Supplies of Red Cross food parcels soon diminished and came to an end. Fuel and food supplies from the Germans were minimal and of very poor quality. All were weakened physically and morale deteriorated considerably.
It was the custom for two or four of us to combine and share our Red Cross food parcels, so that we had variety and no waste. For our last parcel, my friend Rex Newman and I decided to save two tins (one bacon, one sausage) to have on Christmas Day - some weeks ahead. In the event, just before Christmas, Rex was taken to the sick bay with chilblains which had burst and turned septic. I went to see him on the afternoon of Christmas Day and he was in bed, warm and much improved. He told me how well they had eaten from special invalid food parcels still in stock. "What did you have?" he asked. I said that the German soup, usually potato and swede, actually had some peas in it. "What about the tins we were saving?" said Rex. "Half of those are yours", I replied; "I'm keeping them until you get out of here." He said "I'm okay in here, go back and get them eaten." As I walked back to that cold barrack room, my eyes were watering, and it wasn't the cold wind.
On Boxing Day, I put the bacon and sausage in a closed dixie box with my potato ration on top and beneath, and placed the box in the ashes under the stove. It cooked slowly, and I sat and ate it from the tin. How I managed to do this with about 40 hungry PoWs in the hut says a lot for their self-discipline as the savoury smells spread around the room. It was the best and last good meal until we got rescued in mid-April 1945.
When we heard that British troops had crossed the River Weser, we were elated, but the following day the Germans began marching us away from the advancing British Army. This march lasted about two weeks, and during this time RAF planes had the freedom of the skies and attacked any German transport that they saw. I suggested to Rex that in RAF blue we could be mistaken for the Luftwaffe or the German Army Field Grey. Passing a large party of Army PoWs, resting at the roadside still in khaki with green, black or red berets, we decided to drop out and stay with them.
On 18 April 1945, the 11th Armoured Division overtook us on Luneberg Heath. We were safe.
On 19 April, we heard that a flight of RAF planes attacked an RAF group of PoWs as they sat at the roadside, enjoying Red Cross food parcels which the Germans had brought down from a store in Hamburg. It was a terrible mistake, and 36 of our men died and many were wounded, after years in the PoW camps and so near to freedom. But for intuition or the Grace of God, we might have been among the victims...
We were transported by the army back to Neinburg, where the pontoon bridge for crossing the River Weser had been made, and we flew back to England around 22 April 1945.
Rex Newman and I were down to about 98 lbs in weight, but evidently were none the worse. We are both still in touch, and surviving. Rex is in his 73rd year, and I am approaching 70 at this time, December 1990.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.