大象传媒

I joined the army on the 6th April 1944 and started six weeks primary training. During training we had to get our hair cut weekly and sign a book in the barber鈥檚. Once, I missed my turn 鈥攖hinking it wasn鈥檛 necessary. The sergeant inspected our heads and singled me out, my hair being 3 days鈥� too long. He must have consulted that book! I got 7 days CB 鈥� 鈥淐onfined to Barracks鈥�. I don鈥檛 think the CB routine meant a lot to me. I never went down town anyway; I had no energy left!

A vivid memory of my Primary was having to gargle daily at 6 am on the parade ground! During our Training we put together Sten Guns and machine guns with our eyes covered.

I was apprehensive about army food because I was troubled with a weak stomach. But back yard trots stopped and I concluded that the problem had been due to my mother putting bicarb of soda in the greens.

We were stationed in a hotel in Cromer on the East Coast. I came back to the hotel after a manoeuvre and while walking up the stairs to our room I noticed my .303 rifle was cocked. I pressed the trigger, forgetting there was a blank inside. Gosh! Bang! We all had to go on parade to determine who had fired the shot. I owned up, was given CB and other duties for 7 days.

Just prior to embarkation we went on a 100 mile route march for 5 days ending at Great Yarmouth. My heels were badly swollen and this delayed my leaving for France by a fortnight. The lads I trained with thought I was putting it on but I wasn鈥檛. I found myself on the way to France going to Dieppe in a flat bottom boat in October 1944. I felt rather sea sick. I eventually joined my regiment 5th Battalion of the Duke of Cornwall鈥檚 Light Infantry. On my first night with D Company we slept in straw in a farm barn in Holland near the German border. I remarked 鈥淲hat a place to sleep!鈥� I was told 鈥渨e have slept and probably will sleep in far worse places鈥�. They were right, as I was soon to discover.

The army was making some of its first attacks into Germany itself. We were in that part of Holland called the 鈥淒utch Pocket鈥� by Aachen in Germany. Our objective was to capture a German village called 鈥淗oven鈥�. We crept behind a creeping barrage. When the shelling stopped we were able to capture the village. Early the next morning, the Germans made a counter attack.

As happens in warfare there were wounded and dead on both sides. Across the cobbled street we heard one of our Sergeants, who was wounded, crying out for help. We went across and brought him back under fire at very close range. Thank God we weren鈥檛 hit. We took him to a house at the end of the road where soldiers of both sides were being attended by a German doctor. I thought, 鈥渨hat a stupid war 鈥� German and British wounded lying next to each other and the good doctor doing his best for them all鈥�. This and other instances demonstrated the good nature of folk generally.

We were later ordered by a young officer to cross the road and take up position in the field. There must have been some bad marksmen in that section of the wehrmachts, bullets whizzing by but missing us. A German tank came on the scene. I fired at a German soldier who popped his head out of the tank. I hope I missed. It became apparent after a while that our position was hopeless. We started to go back the way we had come, to hack through the woods that only the day before had initiated us in following a creeping barrage.

Have you ever tried walking through a forest without making a noise? We were heard all right because the international word 鈥淗alt!鈥� stopped us in our tracks. Ahead of us was a little German machine gun patrol 鈥� placed there no doubt to apprehend such as us.

Discretion overcoming valour, arms were discarded and we were prisoners. Apparently, the allies were also aware of this little machine gun section, because, in a few minutes, shells began to fall all around us. It wasn鈥檛 my cup of tea to be under fire by our own side. The Germans didn鈥檛 relish it either. One poor chap lying beside me was badly wounded. I received a slight shrapnel cut on my elbow but nothing else. In the end our adversaries were fed up with the old blinking lot of it and so were we. They said, 鈥淲e will go with you to England鈥�, meaning they would be our prisoners. So across the open ground at the head of the woods we went, the Germans walking ahead of us with their hands up. Our role of glory was short-lived. A German armoured car came along and we were again 鈥渃aptured鈥�. We were all reconciled to the new development.

My companion in our hasty retreat through the woods was injured in his arm. The German, lying beside me, also needed hospital treatment. We were taken to a clinic where nuns treated us.

My injury, being only very minor, black paste was used as an antiseptic and I found myself alone as a prisoner, my companion, the corporal, having to have further treatment. Being alone under such circumstances can be rather disconcerting.

A German officer or 鈥榠nteroffizier鈥� took me under his wing. He was driving what appeared to be a little armoured car but it was marked with a red cross and was carrying, of all things, a pig! He invited me to be his batman. I surveyed my immediate surroundings. We appeared to be within easy range of allied artillery as we could see bombed buildings. I thought, 鈥淭he Hell with this 鈥� it is bad enough to be killed by a German bullet, but to die under allied shell fire was just not on.鈥� The German showed some disapproval but shrugged his shoulders as we proceeded away from the shelled area. I heard some singing and a scene reminiscent of the First World War. A troop of young German soldiers marching with horse-drawn transport towards the Front and singing 鈥淯nd Wir Fahren und Wir Fahren und wir fahren nach England in鈥� - 鈥渨e will travel, we will travel to England鈥�.

Later, I found myself riding through K枚ln 鈥� Cologne- on the back of a lorry. An awful sight to behold! Not one building standing undamaged except the Dome 鈥� Cathedral. I thought, 鈥淭hat sight will prevail.鈥� A civilian gave me the V sign. I like to think it was that and not something rude. Some pastors passed by with downcast eyes.

I was taken to a house overnight. A German girl, who could speak English, asked why we had bombed so I explained we in England had also received many bombings. In the morning she was very kind to me and gave me a large loaf of bread. I will never forget this.

I walked with my German guards to where there were some American POWS. These men had let themselves go somewhat, most of them had beards. Perhaps they didn鈥檛 have any razor blades. I can鈥檛 remember seeing a British prisoner-of-war unshaven. Somehow or other, we always managed to scrape it off. The Americans looked at me and the loaf of bread. I had to share it with them piece by piece as they queued up. As I came to the end a soldier said,鈥� let him keep that piece.鈥� It was very precious.

It was about three weeks before I was again with British soldiers. I was escorted between two young soldiers, always by night. Above us one night I saw the Buzz bombs on their way to the English South coast or London.

One night, I slept between a platoon of German soldiers on the floor of an empty shop.

Three days and three nights I spent in a cellar in a large mansion house. It was evidently the local Whermachts (army) headquarters. German officers were studying maps. I saw them while passing through their room. I was given food and a couple of palliasses (small thin mattresses). Not having any blankets, I put one paliasse on top of me to sleep. They also gave me tobacco and cigarette papers but no matches so I couldn鈥檛 smoke my roll-ups. I passed the time away by singing. The poor guards must have thought I was barmy. I found it kept my pecker up.

I was interrogated and asked to give my name, etc. We were only supposed to give, our name, rank and number but I said I was Cornish, silly me. 鈥淗a,鈥� he said, 鈥渉ow many boats are there in Falmouth?鈥� I didn鈥檛 know so I just said a number. 鈥淗a,鈥� he said, 鈥測ou are confabulating! We have ways and means to make you talk.鈥�

I met other British POWs at Limburg and we soon started our transfer to Stalag 4B, a well-known POW camp. Near Halle-an-der-Salle we were transported by goods wagons for three days during which we were without water. A slightly delicate point is that even without intake of fluids I still had to make water. As we approached the entrance to the camp- behold- a water pump! After being cautioned not to partake of it too liberally I felt the cold water and it did taste good.

I do remember Christmas 1944. Our dinner was a kind of lentil soup. Nothing great, you might say, but I had no complaints.

It was a few days before Christmas when we arrived and it was cold. Across the wire to another POW section I saw two Truro men who recognised me and were very pleased to ask how things were going war-wise. One, Sergeant Scantlebury, gave me two pieces of cloth to keep my feet warm and another Mr Richards- presented me with half a loaf of bread. Incidentally, Sgt Scantlebery is now dead and Mr Richards was in the Royal Air Force.

Being just a private I was eligible to go outside with a working party 鈥渁rbeits kommando鈥�. It was said that we would have more food. I doubt if this was true. My first place was a brick factory where I spent most of my time loading bricks onto wagons. Our boss was a middle-aged gentleman who was out of the forces, having lost his arm. The strongest-looking of us were picked for quarry work. My slight stature kept me out of this heavier work. We had soup here once a day 鈥� a watery affair, containing a large proportion of carrots. I have never since become tired of this delectable vegetable.

After a while we were sent to another brick factory. We were luckier here because we got two bowls of soup a day. I don鈥檛 think we did much work there. One day I was walking across a space of ground and a little girl came running towards me, passing a small bag of unrefined sugar into my hand. She disappeared just as quickly. There must have been a good 陆 pound of sugar in that packet. I went to the nearest available quiet place and scoffed the lot!

Towards the middle of April all sides were closing in on Germany. The Americans bombed by day while the British dropped theirs by night. We saw the sky dark with aircraft and we took shelter in an open field reckoning that safer than being near buildings. We saw the bombs fall on Halle an der Salle.

After one night raid that we were called out at early dawn to repair a railway terminus. Away we went with shovels but on arriving at our destination we beheld a pit of tremendous proportions. What repairs could we make? So we were escorted back to camp passing some covered bodies on the way. We were careful not to make comments, not wishing to antagonise our guards. On the way we went underground and passed through where a large consignment of parcels were stored. I was never taken to stealing, but tummy rumbles for food overcame righteousness, and I suppose also a feeling of bravado being in enemy territory 鈥� pinching under such circumstances didn鈥檛 seem such a terrible thing 鈥� though now I know it was wrong. Anyway, unbeknown to the guard I snatched a little packet. When we arrived back at camp, I carefully unwrapped my prize. I wanted food. Inside were little pieces of 鈥淔lesch鈥� - carefully labelled with long German words attached. What was this? Samples of flesh, possibly human, to be analysed? I shall never know. I disposed of the evidence in the water closet.

It was decided to move us away. So one morning we were awakened and told to take all our belongings. I took what was left of my rations. A long column soon formed of other prisoners of war and we marched slowly away. Three of us decided to get right to the end of the column. We had a middle-aged German crippled soldier as the last guard at the end of the line. I felt sorry for him having to hobble alongside of us. Twilight came as we came to a grassy area. 鈥淗alt!鈥� was called and we all rested. A few of us confabbed together what to do. Some of us decided to wait till it was quiet and make a break for it. Whether that was wise is open to conjecture 鈥� seeing as how the war must be drawing to a close; but of course, we were completely in the dark news-wise and could only surmise. However we made away unobserved and walked west. Then another of those rather comical little things (when you look back) happened. After walking some way we stopped for a rest. It was pitch dark and I had to spend a big penny. When I came back to the highway I couldn鈥檛 see my companions. I walked a few yards and came to a crossroads. It was so dark I couldn鈥檛 see the houses around. I was alone, not knowing which direction to take. So I whistled, hoping they would hear me. They didn鈥檛 but someone else did. I was apprehended by a man with a pistol. After a few explanations I was escorted into a room where many men were lying or lounging about. They had the appearance of being Serbs or from somewhere in Southern Europe. Few words were spoken and I must have dozed off. At daylight, we assembled outside and we all boarded a horse-drawn wagon. We stopped at a nearby town where we all went our various ways.

The town where we were, Dallish, must have been near Halle an der Salle. I wandered around and saw German guards half-heartedly digging trenches in the village as a last stand. What purpose it would have achieved is hard to speculate. I saw an American soldier with a type of canteen wagon, handing out bacon sandwiches in white bread. Another Yank, with rifle to the ready, was chewing gum. I remember I participated in a mild sort of looting by consent. I went into a tobacconist shop and implied I wanted some cigars. The shopkeeper handed them to me but insisted they were wrapped in newspaper, presumably to deter other would-be cigar pinchers. I found myself in a nearby barracks empty of German soldiers. Here, I looted again, of all things, needles and cotton, a small folding wood saw and an empty radio box. The latter two I still have. The cigars? I never did enjoy smoking. I gave them to my father.

We flew home across Germany to Belgium. I was in a Douglas Dakota and I had air sickness and the runs. The only toilet available was a bucket in the middle of the seating accommodation. There I was, sitting on a pail with diarrhoea and vomiting. My fellow passengers (all male, thank goodness) sat around me smoking. I鈥檝e never flown since.

From the airport we travelled by sea to Tilbury Docks and a dinner reception. I picked up 6 months back pay of 拢13 and a pass home to Cornwall. There was a wait at Paddington and I thought I鈥檇 smarten myself up a bit. So I took myself to Praed St. The barber enquired where I had been. He said, 鈥淚 feel sorry for you. Let me give you a shampoo, haircut and a shave. Would you like a bottle of hair oil for 5 shillings?鈥� Well I thought if he can give me all this hair cut and all I can spend 5/- on the hair stuff. Then he said, 鈥淭hat will be 拢1 including the tip.鈥� Now, my dears, 拢1 in 1945. was a lot, with haircuts in Truro around 6d. There must have been a misunderstanding but I paid up.

I鈥檝e learnt that seemingly insignificant things can change your life. For instance, if I hadn鈥檛 had foot trouble as I mentioned earlier delaying my trip to France by a fortnight things were bound to have turned out different. But I was alive and well when the war came to an end.

Allied soldiers were needed in Germany after the war and so it was that a young British soldier (me) caught the eye of a young German fraulien, Else. In the course of time she came to Cornwall , we married and she learned to make Cornish pasties. However, her achievements stopped short of learning Cornish for she said that it was hard enough to learn English, she didn鈥檛 want to learn Cornish as well!

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