大象传媒

Chapter 2

Eventually we arrived at E109. The total party was 60 men, 30 in each room. We lived upstairs with just a single wire around the lager. A Sergeant was in charge. There was a schnieder to repair our clothes, a cobbler, two cooks and an officer to issue out parcels to other working parties in that area. That left 56 working. Two Czech women who were good contacts for the black market did washing.

Because it was a large timber factory the lads had made long wooden baths and with a copper tank and fire we could all have hot baths every Saturday. No more fleas or lice! Each room had bunks, a set of tables and a large sawdust fire that would burn for two days. We could cook our parcels on it and toast bread. Some made Welsh cakes, others 鈥渟tottie badgers鈥� a Geordie cake. The work was classified as heavy so we got a little extra bread, potatoes and soup and sometimes some meat. The coffee was black 鈥渆rsatz鈥�. With our Red Cross parcels and the German rations I would say that the food was better than we got in the desert. No more hard tack biscuits, corned beef stews and having to eat Aussie sandwiches 鈥� two large slices of bread, a lump of cheese with a spoonful of jam stuck on your plate. Smack the whole lot together with a mug of hot sweet tea, made from purified water and you have your Aussie sandwich. I often have one now at home. They all ask me how I can eat it. It鈥檚 an acquired taste, like Londoner鈥檚 鈥榩ie and mash鈥�.

It was now possible to leave your parcels and belongings safe by your bed. Other than being locked up at night, all in all things were not too bad. There were beautiful mountains either side of the Oder valley, colourful trees and fantastic sunrises over the mountains. The river Oder rose nearby and was not very deep. Sometimes in the evenings we managed to get a swim. There was a feeling of being free for a while. Some of us cultivated a bit of ground and grew tomatoes, lettuce and spring onions. There was enough room for the lads to play shuttlecock in the evening.

I spent a lot of time standing at the wire talking to some of the young children, trying to learn German. It was fairly easy because they did not mind repeating over and over. Also at the same time they were learning English. Sentences were beginning to form instead of just a word here and there.

We worked from six in the morning until six in the evening, the same as the civilians, with a short break at friestik 9.00 am and an hour for dinner. There were no German guards. At six in the morning we were taken to the factory and were then under civilian control. If we were not well a German doctor was available but we had to walk two or three miles to another village. If anyone was in pain with toothache he would pull out teeth without cocaine. He wore a white coat, jack boots and pince-nez glasses. I will talk more about him later.

It was possible to be taken into another village by train to see the dentist. Two men were taken once a week. Because other lagers in the area could do the same someone always went so that news could be exchanged.

Every night at roll call everyone鈥檚 boots and trousers were taken away and locked up for the night. Working in the factory we carved out the shape of our feet and with bits of leather made jointed shoes. We all had a spare pair of trousers. The local postans, or guards were the equivalent to our Dad鈥檚 Army although not as stupid. At times we had young men wounded from the Russian front. As experienced soldiers they were grateful to be away from the front line and sympathetic to us saying,
鈥淒ie fiel, die fiel鈥� (鈥淥rders are orders鈥�)
They couldn鈥檛 really care less and were very easy to bribe. Here you could talk to the guards on a better basis. In Stalag 8B it was frowned upon for POWs to make conversation with any Germans. Perhaps that is why prisoners spoke so little German.

We had an old gramophone and made ourselves a dartboard out of cardboard. There was also time when we got newspapers and weekly magazines and read a lot. 鈥淲eil du est Bist鈥� is the one I remember 鈥淏ecause of you鈥�. Love stories of course. What you did not understand you could guess. So much now for lager E119.

The factory was known as Rosmanwitz. He was the owner. It was a holtzfabric and made wheels of all sorts and sledges. Some of the POWs had a roving sort of job going out on the 鈥渟lipper鈥�. It had front wheels driven by half tracks (not petrol of diesel) by smouldering small pieces of wood cooked to make a gas.

They also travelled miles away in a lorry, sometimes all day to get to the forest where the women land army found large trees and trimmed them. Loading them by hand and winch was a very hard job, but they also had Mickey the driver who was a civilian to take care of them.

They were on their word of honour not to escape. To run away would have been easy but where could you run to?

Without maps, deep inside enemy territory, surrounded by forests, mountains and remote countryside we remained prisoners but we had a sense of freedom.

If the slipper returned early and was quickly unloaded they could return to the lager. This was known as 鈥淔urarm und furtick鈥� (Job and finish). Sometimes the slipper broke down waiting to make gas and the boys came home late. Of course it had nothing to do with them all having been in a guest house for a few drinks! I did manage to get out on the slipper a few times. Nobody would ever have dreamt of dropping Micky in the cart. Sometimes I even wore his pistol and belt for him when it got in his way. He was a German.

Bluey and I worked inside at first on the machines cutting and shaping spokes segments, spindles, hubs and all sorts. There was a big machine with a large blade one way and a lot of small knives fixed together and the whole lot were fixed to a piston. You clamped a log about two feet from the side, the piston went to and fro and the log went in producing what was known as holtzwal. It was then compressed into bales and sent away. We had this holtzwal in the paliases on our bunks. It was soft and warm to sleep on. When we had a chance we did a bit of sabotage, breaking the spokes and such. Our answer was always,
鈥淣icht versten鈥�.
The Meister whose name was Wiesbrot had a habit of looking across to see what you were doing. If you were doing something wrong he would curl his right forefinger, waving his hand in front of his eyes as if to say 鈥淚 am watching you鈥�. That sign was used between ourselves to say 鈥淲atch out!鈥�. If the word geranium was spoken it meant 鈥淏e careful what you say!鈥�

When we found out that we were helping to make sledges and loading them on wagons for the Russian front we went on strike and refused to load, unload or work on them. We did not touch them any more.

Two or three of the lads worked in the blacksmiths shop. One of the things they helped make was steel bands that would be fitted on the wheels. The bands had to be placed together in a heap. A big fire was then lit around them. After a time they expanded and were placed over the wheels. We then took water out of the river nearby and threw it over the wheels. The quick contraction meant that as the tyre was fitted it shrunk dead tight.

While we were doing this Russian men and women prisoners who had been marching for miles, probably on their way to concentration camps, were brought to the river to have a drink of water. They lay down to drink and some were so weak that their heads fell into the water and they drowned because they hadn鈥檛 the strength to raise their heads. We could only stand and watch. We couldn鈥檛 save them and felt so helpless.

As time went by we picked up more words, instead of sabotage it was possible to answer back, especially if it was to your advantage. For instance, when they spoke of German victories at the Russian front or in France, or of Frau Einz (the nickname for rockets over London), our reply was always two words, 鈥淒er tag鈥� 鈥� 鈥淥ur day will come鈥�. We had another saying 鈥渟ie sind sihone geweshen鈥� 鈥� 鈥淵ou鈥檝e had it!鈥�. We had many arguments with the foreman and always finished up with 鈥淒u vier ecke kopf鈥�, 鈥淵ou four cornered head 鈥� or square head鈥�. We found we could swear at them in German or English, after all we had learned it from them. But you couldn鈥檛 laugh or take the micky out of them, or call them swindlers.

As time went by I was moved to Drausen arbeit. The outside work was in a very large area so there was more freedom instead of being inside all day. When the trees had been 鈥渁uf laden鈥�, (unloaded) we had to sort them out for size and type of wood, Eike (Oak) or Buche (Beech). We then loaded the holtzwool into the wagons and stacked the long planks for weathering. I worked with a Czech named Poldo. Instead of morgan it was now dobry den as a greeting. German and Czech now had to be understood. Poldo told us that he was going to get married. According to German law they both had to get medicals first. He even had to get a permit to buy an innertube for his bike. When he got married we asked him to bring us in some food. He brought some potatos with some sort of vegetables. The speciality was some spiced meat in batter. Later he asked how we had like it because it was 鈥渉und fleish 鈥�(dog). He said it was good for TB.

I want now to tell you how we spent the evening in the lager. Some played cards or darts. Although by the time we got back at 6 o鈥檆lock, washed, had some soup and cooked from Red Cross parcels, it would be quite late. One chap, Smudger Smith said to me one evening.
鈥淚 have some books on how to learn German but nobody to talk with. How about us learning together?鈥�
Remembering what the tutor in 8B had said, I replied
鈥淥K. Anything for a laugh鈥�. I wanted to do Smudger a favour but I didn鈥檛 have much hope.
Each evening we sat together and I found sentences became longer and I could read the local magazines. Bluey joined us and amused the chaps lying on their bunks listening. He had the knack of reading the words the wrong way round and also guessing. We reached a stage where we no longer needed an interpreter. We could converse fairly well and could no longer use 鈥淣ichts Verstehen鈥� as an excuse. We spoke a mixture of German and Czech but we now understood and could answer back.

We worked a 5陆 day week finishing at 12 noon Saturday. In the week the train brought in wagons to load. They had to be loaded immediately so that the same train could pick them up on its way back in about 6 hours. This was very important otherwise those in charge of the factory could be put into prison or heavily fined. This meant the outside workers having to work fairly fast, instead of the old poomaly (go slow). To encourage us to move a bit faster the Meister Foreman would say 鈥淔ur arm and Fertig鈥� (job and finish), and if the wagons came in early you could be back in the lager for the rest of the day. This worked very well until wagons came in late in the afternoon and you were still loading after the others went home. Tactics had to change to stop the loaders walking off as well. Ackord Arbeit (piece work) was agreed and we kept a check until it mounted up to enough time to have a day off. This system worked alright until the empty wagons came in on a Sunday and nobody would turn out. Three wagons to load and we all said no because Sunday was our day to play football on the village green with other lagers. Mostly it was just a kick about and a chance to discuss events. Having made our point, we were ready to give in on the argument. When the guards came in shouting 鈥淩aus! Raus!鈥� with their rifle butts ready to knock us out. It was time to move.
We got to the wagons and started loading. It was poomaly, poomaly 鈥� (work slow) The checker watching our work soon realised the wagons would not be loaded in time for the train to take away. Soon the boss was called in and it was agreed that if we loaded the wagons we could have the next day off.

The sequel to this was months later when thick snow covered the ground. One Sunday the guards burst in 鈥淎lles fur Futeball鈥� (Football for everyone). Nobody wanted to go but they forced us all out.
鈥淕eneva Convention say Sunday day off 鈥� English play football!鈥�
There we all were chasing a football around, up to our knees in snow and the local villagers shouting
鈥淓nglanders Verucht鈥� (The British are mad)
We all saw the funny side of it when we came back in.

We had some fiece arguments when we were working in the factory. Once I smashed a lot of bricks in front of the boss. He shouted to the guard to shoot me. Bluey stood in front of me between the guard shouting 鈥淣ix, Nix鈥�.

Sometimes I used to look at Bluey working on the saws and he seemed mesmerised. I dreaded that one day he would do something wrong and cut himself. There was a time when he was working on the big saws cutting the holtzwoll. It had a piston with the knives going up and down. He reached out and put his hand on it, just to see what it would do. Luckily it only gave his skin a little shave.

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