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'This story was submitted to the People’s War site by a volunteer from CSV London on behalf of Douglas Charles Chandler and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

We moved off to Stalag XVIII C near Spittal en Drau , and this became our permanent camp. It had just been started, only two buildings were ready. Each consisted of a structure of sandstone blocks about 2ft x1ft x1ft, built to a height of some 15ft with an apex centre approx. 25 ft wide and 60ft long, divided into bays across the building 15ft wide, a door at either end, or a window in each bay. The buildings were completely bare except for three tier wooden bunks, lit by a single 40-watt bulb at the apex of each bay. About 450 men gathered during the next few days. The area round the buildings was ankle deep in mud and water. A large deep apron of barbed wire encircled the camp, and within the area there was not even one tiny scrap of paper, vegetation or any ordinary commodity that one could utilize.

For a time it was most difficult to get to anybody in authority. Other buildings were being put up, and if occasionally a cement bag blew over the wire it was a luxury for whoever claimed it. A five-ply cement bag carefully taken apart could provide a reasonable stock of useable paper. There was during this time a tobacco issue of sorts, some local preparation. The issue took place about 3 o’clock and by five past three it looked as if the building was on fire. Cement bag paper being the only real option for rolling cigarettes (non smokers were almost unheard of at this time).

Those of us who had gone in at this stage were certainly the pioneers. Rations here changed again; the soup was thinner, the bread blacker, and minor diseases developed, and dysentery being the most common. There was an ablution building built lower down the field. Since most of us had no laces in our boots it was always a difficult maneuver negotiating the 20 yds. between the building we slept in and the kasi. The journey was more than doubled by necessity of retracing ones steps to regain boots embedded in thick mud. If it happened to be lashing with rain at the same time it was even more hazardous. Particularly as almost everyone was a dysentery sufferer, twenty or thirty visits a day was not uncommon. The lavatory system consisted of a hole in the ground over which one squatted and the men took on a new shape looking almost Z like.

The days were spent walking round and round the compound, with occasional semi-organized get-togethers. When somebody decided to try a singsong to brighten things up, for perhaps an hour songs like Keillers Jam were sung with great gusto. Any comedian who could get a laugh in those days was really worth his salt. The weather at this time was beginning to improve, spring was approaching and we heard some news that the Pope had decreed that all P.O.W.s should receive a special gift at Easter. We all hoped this would take the form of food, for the ladle of dandelion soup and portion of very dark brown bread per day had most people craving for some sweetmeat. It is amazing how closely related to your stomach conversation was - this was proved many times throughout the period of captivity. Assuming 2000 calories per day was required to keep a man fighting fit in the Army (this was a figure somebody brought up in the camp). After 2 or 3 weeks of say 1500 calories the general conversation recalled perhaps some very ordinary army ration, even hard biscuits and bully beef, which as most readers know are not generally very popular. As we got lower down the scale and reached 1000 calories, which was now the starvation line, one recalled chops and steaks, garnished with the more exotic vegetables. On reaching the stage of rapid deterioration the conversation then revolved round small rock cakes that one’s small sister perhaps made in the cookery class, or as one man was often quoting, he would give anything for a bowl of lentil soup which he remembered having to suffer tasting when his very small daughter turned her hand to culinary arts. Ultimately of course, and this with very much less humour, “if only a dog would walk under the wire we’d soon finish that off”. Although most of this tale will bring out the best and lighter side of men under duress, nevertheless these grim chapters were fairly common, and sometimes often prolonged. The ultimate result was desperate when the mind wandered the mind wandered and for some to the point of extreme sickness and death from malnutrition coupled with broken spirits. In spite of this most people looked forward to this Easter Day.

When Easter arrived there was a good deal of activity in the administration building at the top of the field near to our hut where we were housed. We were ordered out at about 9.am to queue outside a small window. We were still queuing some four or five hours later. Nothing yet had appeared inside the wire, but the old hackneyed words of "why are we waiting" were bellowed out, much as they were when we were in our own barracks at home. Eventually the leaders in the queue received their gift- a tiny corner of an iced cake. We realised then why there had been a delay- it had obviously been some poor Italian's job to cut up the cake, or perhaps cakes, into some 800 or 900 pieces-, which was our approximate number. Although this was a luxury, some people decided it was not worth waiting. However the guards quickly reassembled the non-takers, with the view “we had to cut it up so you’re jolly well going to eat it”. Those unfortunates at the end of the long queue got a mere odd corner of icing. Whether this was nourishment or punishment was arbitrary, but I think most people accepted it in the spirit in which it was given.

Our programme generally these days was to rise at about 8.am. when we had to have a count-up. Normally this could take up to 30 mins. but on occasions took all day. The system the Italians adopted was that we should form one giant column five abreast; this suited their counting system of counting in fives. If everybody stood reasonably still half a dozen guards walked down the column counting. Una dua tres quinqua etc… but if all six guards did not agree the total they started again. By this time men had moved about some were in sixes and the guards didn’t know whether they had gained a few or lost a few overnight. If the weather was good we were content to shuffle about for some time- after all, it relieved the monotony and passed the time as well as upsetting the guards considerably. Ultimately the Interpreter was sent for to tell us that some sort of punishment would be meted out if we were not cooperative. If the weather was bad it was generally agreed amongst us that we would keep still and get the count over quickly. No doubt the guards played us up on those occasions, and kept us waiting even before they started the count. After this daily routine the "cooks", half a dozen chaps who volunteered for the job, went up to prepare the main meal. This was done over log fires on which were mounted large square iron pots these were filled with water into which were placed a handful of dandelion leaves (It was amazing how convinced everyone was of the goodness of dandelion leaves), a few ounces of olive oil, sometimes a measured quantity of perhaps a pound or so of rice. This was boiled for an hour or two. In to other pots would go a number of pieces of meat- (what meat exactly we never knew), which were cut into squares approx. 2 x 2 x 4 and again boiled furiously. To facilitate dishing out all the men had been put into groups of 100.

One of course had to be an odd group, this consisted of a mixture of nationalities Arabs, Cypriots, Palestinians, New Zealanders, South Africans, Indonesians and a few English. This was a difficult one to organise because of the language difficulty, so it was agreed to number everyone and each day to keep a note of the last number to receive rations. Having made sure the pot of soup and the meat ration had gone round once if any was over on the first day Number l. got the extra perhaps two or three. The following day we were to start where we had finished previously. As each person received his ration he would look at his piece of meat and probably decide that his was smaller than the next, but hoped for better the next day. It always caused some dissention. On one occasion when a particular Palestinian took his piece rather disgustedly he remembered he might be in line for “seconds”. When however this second helping didn’t please him either he decided the two rations together didn’t represent a fair portion, He lost control and hurled the two pieces of meat over the wire, threw his pot of soup down and stamped on it.

At some time during the day (this could be at any hour) either a piece of bread or small bread roll was issued. This was known as “skilly up” time. When darkness came everyone had to be inside their own buildings. At about this time a committee was formed in an endeavor to organise ourselves so that as other buildings were completed and more unfortunates arrived, we could help them settle in. Small discussion groups were formed, and there were always several who had the ability and desire to keep their minds occupied. Overall time hung heavily, and boredom was one of the chief enemies to contend with. Spontaneous concerts were popular, and anyone with a good tale to tell whether true or false was worth listening to. Fairly early people turned into their beds, and it was generally considered that a good sleep- if one could get it was beneficial.

When everybody was settled in bed, or supposedly so, someone would perhaps decide to light a cigarette. Remembering that cigarettes were scarce and methods of ignition were even more so, it could prove expensive, because immediately heads would pop up asking for a light to anything that came to hand- a twig of a broom or a minute amount of tobacco with pocket fluff rolled into a page of a pay book. By the time the lighted cigarette had been passed up and down very little remained to return to its owner. In fact a good dodge was for an older prisoner to willingly offer to light a new arrival, when he returned it just a small stub end left he would explain that he had to go to the cookhouse to get a light, since it would have burned away on his way back he might as well smoke it.

New prisoners were always welcome, not that we were really glad to see them as prisoners, but to get some up-to-date news of what was going on outside. Also I am afraid they were somewhat of a target, in that, as always, the old soldier could always get one over on the new, but it did not take long for them to settle down into our way and accept the saying (now a very common one) “if you can't break the racket, get in it”. All the same by now, on looking back over the period we had passed through many phases. There were many more to follow of course during the captivity we experienced spells of very low depression, up to reasonable times, and all stages between. Being controlled by various persons or groups of different political persuasions or denominations there was always a few amongst the masses who like the vicar of Bray changed their colours to suit the particular power of the moment.

Building was still going on and three other compounds had been started. These were built on the side of a hill, so that we were some feet higher than what was to become known as Number 4. Compound. Unfortunately the engineers who designed the place hoped the water supply would run upwards, for in compound. Number l, as each new compound was completed we got less water. Finally it stopped altogether when Number 4. were using it. This meant that a water cart appeared once a day when we had to fill enough containers, tins or what have you, with sufficient water to supply all our needs. After many deputations to the authorities we did manage to get our main supply on for a couple of hours, generally at 1 or 2 am, which meant either waking up or staying up until this time, going down to the washing shed and washing out various bits of clothing, if so desired. This job was made even more hazardous by the fact that certain light-fingered inmates, who were either short of articles of clothing or footwear themselves or had an outlet for them, waited until you had stripped off for a wash and made off with the garments. Not only did you have to keep an eye on them but a hand on them too, when you consider the area was quite small and the number of people trying to clean up at the same time it was a difficult operation. There was generally a hue and cry that something was missing, and a nude body would hurtle out chasing after some stealthy intruder. About this time one or two of the guards seemed to be more friendly and made one or two contacts inside the wire. Subsequently we found that some of these missing articles were being traded to them, chiefly for bread. If you noticed someone eating well you kept an eye on him as well as your boots. This also meant that one had to sleep completely clad with all their clothing and use their boots as a pillow. To this day I still favour a hard pillow, old habits die-hard.

The summer of 1942 brought a large influx of new prisoners into the other compounds, bringing the number up to almost full compliment of some 1000 in each. Most of these were from the fallen garrison of Tobruk. For several weeks this meant increased organising on the part of those already there. We were not allowed to mix with one another we couldn’t pass from compound to compound - but by passing messages through the single wire that separated us we swapped news both ways. We did start some classes so that small groups could be seen sitting outside their huts during the warmer weather listening to lectures on a variety of subjects given by the more learned. Little church services were held, run by ordinary laymen, and all this was a wonderful help to many of us, No praise is too great for those who made the effort to get these things started and kept them going. There was no doubt many people would probably have been mental cases had these activities not been available. This large influx no doubt influenced the rations and for a time they were reduced, and it was during this period that quite a number fell by the wayside, Almost daily a two-wheeled cart pulled by a rather weary pony could be seen in one or other of the compounds, which meant that one of our lads was going on his last journey. It seemed a terrible end to us. The medical officer at the time helped as much as he could to make it a journey of some decorum and everybody made a point of paying what last respects they could.

Although the warmer weather was welcome it did bring with it certain snags one of these was also due to our very low physical state, but it still came as a shock. This was the discovery by one person of a small white creature in his clothing. This unfortunate chap was condemned and treated like a leper, until we found we all had them. Anybody who had been in a similar position would easily recognise the newcomers as lice. They bit into the flesh and sucked what poor blood was available, causing irritation, sores and were very difficult to get rid of. It was a daily sight to see at the sunny side of the buildings everyone sitting with his vest off going up the seams with a match or just squashing them. It was important to locate the eggs too. Since we were all alike there was no secret to be kept and it became a matter of interest to count how many you could kill at one session. Those who washed regularly, both themselves and their clothing, managed to keep them down considerably.

For the next section of this story go to A4518470 for part 7.

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