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We had a ‘Prisoner of War’ camp within a couple of miles of us, and initially Italians were in there, and latterly Germans. As kids we used to go and stand by the wire and peer inside, and watch them inside.

At the end of the war, when the hostilities were over, the Germans were kept in the Prisoner of War camp for a few months, maybe even a year after the end of the war, but they were allowed out during the day and they used to walk around the town in pairs in their uniforms. (I think they wore brown uniforms at the time.)

It seemed very strange to us at the time, but what seemed even stranger was the amount of fraternisation with the local girls. Two lived next door to me in fact — that’s how I remember - It didn’t go down too well.

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Becky Barugh of the ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Shropshire CSV Action Desk on behalf of Peter Roberts and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

See more of Peter's stories:

• My Mother wouldn’t have that!
• Fire-Watching and other jobs
• That’s how it was done then
• They were machine-gunning us!
• Put them on show
• A much healthier option
• Make-shift weapons

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