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The following story appears courtesy of and with thanks to Ray Newlove and Della Petch

INTRODUCTION TO MY EXPERIENCE AS A PRISONER OF WAR:

First of all I don鈥檛 know why I have decided to put this experience of mine into print as I am sure several more could have had similar experiences, probably more worthy of mention, but nevertheless, here we got and everything is true to fact. It may be as Poland has been in the news a great deal lately, what with the fight to get working people a fair deal and to be able to unite. I have a good idea of the courage of the Polish people as I was there several years as a P.O.W.
First I was force marched from France to Germany, then in a cattle truck to Thorn in Poland, the same as the brave MP who was blown up in his car outside the Houses of Parliament.
We were just like cattle; about 20 men unable to stretch out and some of our comrades went completely mad. We seemed to be travelling for days on end with no food and only water from ditches and rain water barrels, when the train stopped for a few minutes. The wagons had big steel doors and we were almost in total darkness most of the time.
Now, when we finally got to Thorn in Poland, we were marched through the town. One German spat at me, so I returned the act with a sneer and to hold my head up high; this Nazi followed alongside the column, right to the camp, shouting 鈥淓nglander, schwine!鈥� This camp proved to be the death of large numbers of our fellow prisoners; not so much earlier wounds etc but dissentry, which I got myself and I thought it could be my turn next to be pushed into a black coffin made from matchwood. We once witnessed one of our lads who was too big for the box and was heeled in by a Nazi with his jackboot. This did not go down unheeded as all us lads jeered continuously 鈥� after all, we were without weapons; what else could we do?
After I fought off this illness, for which I always think it was my good constitution, brought about by having good wholesome food when a child, I was sent to a working camp on an Autobahn. This was the severe winter of 1940. Our first job was to unload the square marble blocks from trucks, which arrived at the nearest siding. The weather was bitter cold. We had to wear gloves or frostbite would have been certain; also balaclavas, to protect our ears. Our breath used to freeze on the front of the balaclava and icicles used to form. The winter got worse and the snow deeper while we were confined to the huts, without heating most of the time. The guards had bricketts for their stove. This is where my fist experience with an informer began, as our wash-place, such as it was, joined the guard鈥檚 sentry box. There, briketts were stacked next to our wooden partision. I managed to prise a bottom wood off, just enough room to get my hand to draw out a brickett one by one for our huts, but after a while the heap collapsed and our plot was discovered. The answer the German鈥檚 wanted, was who was the culprit. This would never have been divulged but for one man, the camp informer and collaborator, who was a very small chap in the Ampe, as it was in those days.
However, I was punished. For 21 days I had to walk round the compound all the daylight hours in all weathers. My turn came real unexpected one cold night, when the old latrine had been covered with snow and ice. Our friend, the informer, had not heard the instructions to beware when going to the latrine 鈥� he had fallen in and a sergeant and myself heard the shouts for help. We went to the scene and there he was, up to his elbows in the trench, which was the usual toilet provisions for P.O.W.鈥檚. I was very tempted what to do 鈥� push him further in? The K.R.R. sergeant said he deserved it, but I helped him out in the end, as he had no other battledress, he was shivering with an old blanket wrapped round him. His battledress was frozen stiff on the barbed wire.
The next prank that was played on the informer was, he spent most of his time cleaning the guard鈥檚 jackboots etc for extra rations. However, he needed a haircut and also he had a moustache. I got the barber in the end hut, a chap called Tommo Thompson, from the East Yorks, to make him look like Adolph, which he duly obliged. This caught everyone鈥檚 notice, except our friend, who did eventually catch on. It was intended to be mickey-taking for the guard鈥檚 benefit.
Then came the biggest laugh of all now, as he hoarded all his extra food under his straw bed and tormented other lads, who were on the brink of starvation. He was invited to our hut party. He was delighted to think he would be tucking into someone else鈥檚 food, but it was very well planned, for he was called away from his bunk for a short while, so most of his hoarded food could be transferred to our hut. Everything ready, he started to tuck in; he ate as if he were as hungry as us, which was not the case, but when he discovered the plot, he nearly went off his rocker 鈥� the air was blue, but our laughs could be heard in the guard鈥檚 quarters.
Now after the snow and ice had gone and green grass once more visible, we started work on cutting out turf on the hillside for this autobahn. The turf was cut out with spades, loaded into what we called skips on a small, like rail. These we pushed to 鈥� they were needed to tip. I was working with a great mate called Paddy Ford, who was from Dublin originally, but was working at the B.S.A. in Birmingham at the declaration of war. He promptly joined the army voluntarily. The civilian foreman, a large, stern looking chap, who by this time had been called the Bull by the lads, kept coming up to Paddy and myself, shouting in German, of course, to get on with it. Our answer to this I am unable to put in black and white. However, the zero hour arrived one morning 鈥� he had been to us both several times with Englander Schwine etc. I grabbed him, but before anyone could look, Paddy hit him on the chin and he fell back onto the rail as he was out cold. But the guards were roasting spuds in the black hut; they were soon on the job. We were both marched off the site with bayonets fixed. No more work on the site for Paddy and myself. Next morning, at the roll call, we were both put in front of all the camp, the Commandant gave a great lecture about what would happen to us as we had caused mutiny on the autobahn. Also, sabotage was an offence. We left the camp and all the lads as they were sent out on their daily labours. Paddy and me had never had the honour of being escorted to a large camp by not one, not two, but three jackbooted Nazi鈥檚. We arrived at a big camp where nearly all nationalities were to be seen. Both Paddy and myself were to go into solitary confinement. We were first taken to a British S.M., who was from the R.B.鈥檚. He promptly said, 鈥淣ow what have you two been up to?鈥� He was told and when away from hearing distance of the German鈥檚 said, 鈥淕ood work.鈥�
We gathered by this time, he was termed as the British man of confidence. His advice to us was get out on a working party, as things were out of control with the comings and goings. While in this camp, I met a lad from my home town called Ernie Lewis. I only had time to see his mates, as Paddy had put us down to go on a farm, one as a cowman, the other as a horseman. This I thought as hilarious, as I did not know anything about horses, or cows, come to that. However, off I went. It was a large state farm, the man in charge a large man, a Prussian. He must have weighed 20 stone. They soon realised that we had not a clue, so out to the fields we were sent to the sugarbeet. The civilian had shown Paddy how it was done and set him off down a row. When I looked he was chopping up the lot, after a few choice German swear words he said he didn鈥檛 understand. We were always on the look out for several days, expecting to be sent back to camp, but this never happened. The place we slept was alive with bugs and other parasites.

Continued...
'This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by 大象传媒 Radio Merseyside鈥檚 People鈥檚 War team on behalf of the author and has been added to the site with his / her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

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