大象传媒

This story is taken from a manuscript by Lawrence Travers Dorins, and has been added to the site with his permission by Bruce Logan. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.
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FREEDOM
I can't remember how long we stayed in Ummendorf after we were liberated.

It was probably only a few days but we were so keen to be on our way home that it seemed much longer. The tanks had moved on and also the infantry, leaving a small number of troops to occupy the village and look after us. They issued us with K Rations which were in packets, very enjoyable but we could not get enough of them.

The Americans told us that we must only gradually increase our intake of food
On our first day of freedom we wandered around the village and in the evening we ended up in a large barn where some prisoners and slave workers, both men and girls, had gathered. I think they were Russians and Ukrainians who worked on local farms but had stopped work. There was a great deal of joyful and optimistic talk, not very informative as neither their or our German was up to the job, which went on late into the night and everyone just slept on the straw in the barn.

The U.S. soldiers had issued an order to the Germans that all firearms, radios, field glasses and cameras must be handed in. Presumably, anything that might be useful to a resistance group. We watched the locals reluctantly handing in their treasured possessions, some of them even daring to ask for a receipt in the forlorn hope that they might one day be returned. The soldiers just waved them away and we were guilty of a little "Schadenfreude" at their discomfort. The roles had been reversed but these were only little people; because of the Cold War so many people guilty of serious crimes remained unpunished and even kept their ill gotten gains. The Americans gave the confiscated goods to the British prisoners, often with the former owners watching. I was given a pair of binoculars and a Scots friend of mine chose an automatic pistol. I can't remember if he received any ammo but it was perhaps unwise to give pistols to newly liberated prisoners.

My pistol packing friend and I were feeling hungry on our limited K Ration diet and decided to go to the butchers and demand some meat. He kept his pistol in his pocket. When the harassed butcher told us that he had not enough meat to cover the ration entitlement of his customers while we were being fed by the Americans we left quietly and rather shamefaced. The Americans obviously had other things to do and we were left to our own devices. Next day we decided to go round some of the farms, Jack playing with his deadly new toy as he went, to see if we could get some eggs. At the first farm we knocked on the door and after a long wait a man opened the door. He was not dressed like a farmer and he spoke quite good English. I had a strong feeling that there were several people in the house. The man explained that there were no eggs available, he was not the farmer but was just visiting with his family for a few days rest so we just left quietly. In retrospect it was probably just as well. We were very naive. The fighting troops had gone through and left a few troops in the village but there could have been all sorts of very dangerous people about, on the run and looking for bolt holes. We would not have been missed if we had got in someone's way.

After about a week some American troops turned up with some very large supply trucks and we climbed aboard for quite a long and exciting ride. We had not gone far when we passed an identical truck which had overturned. The roads were bumpy with many bends and the drivers were addicted to speed but we eventually arrived in one piece at a shot up airfield near Hildesheim where we were billeted in the barrack blocks. Nearly all the windows had been smashed and it was rather drafty. We continued with our diet of K Rations with further warnings about only slowly increasing our food intake. There was a P.X. store where everything was free to us. In any case, we had no money but it was typical of the Americans generosity. One day I chose a packet of tobacco which smelt wonderful. Unfortunately, it was chewing tobacco.

One evening I decided to go out and explore the area which was rather foolish on my own. On the airfield there was a single track railway line, probably a spur from a main line and used to bring in supplies. I walked along it for about two miles until I came to a small village and knocked on the door of the first farm I came to. The farmer came out and I told him that I was a British POW from the airfield, looking for eggs. There were no eggs to spare but he invited me to come in and share the evening meal, the usual simple sort of meal I had had on farms where I had worked. There was the farmer, his wife and their daughter who was about eighteen or twenty. They were interested in the time I had spent working on farms in Poland and the time I had spent on the march. It was not many days before that they had been woken up, early in the morning, by a loud knocking on their door and opened it and found a large black G.I. on the doorstep. He had not harmed them but had certainly impressed them. They were afraid that the Russians might reach their part of Germany and obviously hoped that the Americans would stay in their area. My command of German was not up to lengthy political discussions but we spent quite a pleasant evening. They hoped that I would soon be back with my family and I hoped that they would get on all right under the new regime. As I was leaving to go back to the airfield it was getting dark. The daughter had mentioned that "die Jungs", the lads, had been in the Village the night before and they had all had a great evening and it was sad to have to say goodbye to them when they had to move. It suddenly occurred to me that she was not talking about the local youth club but a possible Army or S.S. unit which had been left stranded in the retreat. These were not people I wished to meet and I made my way back to the airfield as quickly as possible. It reminded me of our guards and what might have been their fate. I hoped they had not been forced into some suicidal last stand but had got back safely to their families. They had treated us quite well and done the best they could in very difficult circumstances.

Not long after this the Americans started to fly the prisoners out and I found myself in Brussels. As we got down from the plane there was a military band playing and when it stopped three of the bandsmen came running towards me. They were the Welsh Fusiliers who had been on my first working party at Bruss. As stretcher bearers and medics they had been repatriated early. After I had been able to have a wash and been thoroughly dusted down with D.D. T. powder to kill the lice I was able to meet them for a long chat. They had been looking for me and other old friends as each group came through.

The next day we flew to the airfield at Wing in Oxfordshire, passing over Dungeness as we hit the coast. At first they sat us down at tables and W.A.A.F.s brought us tea and cakes. I had a piece of Swiss Roll, something that I had often dreamed of in the past five years. I took one bite and was suddenly overcome with emotion and could eat no more. That night we went to a concert and we were entertained by Josephine Baker who had flown in from Paris.

The next morning we were given some new kit and railway warrants to go home. We also received pregnant mother's ration cards which entitled us to extra food and a quart of milk each day which was intended to help us regain lost weight. We were also given a pass which allowed us ten weeks leave. When I arrived in London I was tired so I made my way to Battersea where my aunt and uncle lived. When aunt Peggy opened the door it was quite a shock for her. There had been no word from me since about the end of November and in the confused situation in Germany, as the allies closed in from east and west, our friends and relatives were worried about our situation. No one was sure if we had survived the final months of the war. Aunt Peggy greeted me with delight, as if I had risen from the dead, although she was obviously shocked by my appearance. I was painfully thin and felt weak and nervous.

Later Uncle Fred came home and we all had a pleasant evening together. We had a lot of catching up to do. Later I slept fitfully on the couch in the sitting room and next day I at last started out on my journey home. It had been a long five years and it was a wonderful feeling travelling down the line between Charing Cross and Hastings and passing all the places I had day dreamed of and at times feared I might never see again. When I reached home it was a very emotional experience, seeing my mother again and the house and the street.

Everything seemed wonderful. The dream that had plagued us all over the years of waiting had at last been realised. That intense feeling gradually fades but at the time it was one of the great moments of my life.

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