大象传媒

The Memories of an Ex-PoW

Apart from the food queues and the remarkable absence of the male population, Berlin seemed to be going about its business in much the same way we imagined as pre-war days. This was our impression as we marched to our first PoW camp at Neuk枚lln, Berlin, in August 1941. What did impress us most of all was the complete lack of air raid damage and, even more startling, no form of gas protection for civilians; no German carried a mask as in England. But, of course, in those days, we did tend to forget the Reich Marshall鈥檚 boast that no enemy plane would ever reach the German capital. (This could account for him living permanently in the country later on).

In those early days of war, only an occasional single bomber flew across the city to drop the odd bomb or two. In Berlin itself, gigantic camouflage schemes were undertaken. From the Brandenburg Gate down through the Tiergarten, the road was completely roofed over with steel wire netting, to which was attached pine branches and green cloth to make the road blend into the grass and trees either site of it. A complete lake had been covered in this manner and the ducks swam unconcerned under the camouflage. The Berlin underground railway being so shallow was dangerous to use as a shelter. Each entrance had a notice to this effect.

As the war progressed, we saw the beginning of really heavy raids, at night huge numbers of Lancaster bombers dropping terrific tonnage. Later on the Pathfinders marked out the target area with coloured flares, the heavy Lancasters lumbering up behind to drop their loads. Hail, rain or snow never seemed to stop the nightly rumble of their bombs.

At this time, we moved to another camp at Zernsdorf where our work consisted of relaying the railway track in and around Berlin.

With the coming of the American daylight raids a new type of bombing came into being, 鈥渃arpet鈥� or saturation bombing. The first American 1,000 bomber raid on Berlin was, indeed, a fantastic sight, coming over in broad daylight, the sky seemed full of planes, in an unending stream they flew across the city dropping 鈥渃arpets鈥� of bombs which just wiped out anything within the area. With the night and day bombing the city began to be pounded into destruction. Gun sites, factories, houses, everything began to slide into a heap of rubble. The fires started during the day only pin-pointed the city for the raiders at night. Just to pile on the agony, the Americans rolled a 鈥渃arpet鈥� right to the perimeter of our camp. This caused great consternation amongst the local population (including us), and that evening numbers of civilians came round to vent their anger on us, luckily it was only in words, and in the slanging match that ensued, we more than held our own. Unfortunately, for us, the bombing was giving us extra work; apart from our normal work of laying the railway track, sections that were bombed also had to be repaired.

I can assure the reader that when one鈥檚 shovel clangs against an unexploded bomb, interest quickly fades on the job. At this time, we had to take our picks and shovels back to camp each night so that we could be called out to any area. We always left for work at 6.30 am, this meant a march to the station and then by railway wagon to the scene of construction or destruction. Marching out of camp one morning with our picks and shovels on our shoulders somebody started singing the Walt Disney 鈥淗i-Ho Hi-Ho and off to work we go鈥�. Within a second everybody had taken up the tune. Some were walking along nearly on their knees characterising the dwarfs in the film, and what with the laughing and singing, the picks and shovels banging together, the noise was terrific. That night complaints began to come in from the local population about the unholy row so early in the morning 鈥� our camp commandant rebuked us in no uncertain manner. Suggestions from us that we should start work much later in the day brought no results.

One member of the local population was always making complaints about us. He owned a large timber yard just up the road from our camp, and as we marched daily to the station, would make disparaging remarks about our parentage. We had our own back on him later on; incendiaries from an American bomber burnt his timber yard to the ground.

1945 brought the climax of the City鈥檚 ordeal (and ours). American bombers during the day plus the RAF at night, gradually pounded the city into a smoking ruin. To try and boost morale, extra cigarettes and alcohol were issued to the inhabitants.

With the advance of the Russian Army to the outskirts of the city, Russian planes made one of their rare visits, dropping leaflets urging the population to cease fighting and save what remained. The Germans, disregarding the offer, made their plight even more hopeless. With the advance of the Russian troops into the Eastern suburbs of the City, our camp commandant received orders to march us westward. Marching westwards we saw tremendous efforts being made to stop the Russian advance, numbers of fanatical SS troops were moving up and trees were being felled across the road. Huge tank traps were being dug mostly with Jewish forced labour, the pleading look on their faces for us to help them from their ultimate fate was unforgettable. There were rumours that the British and American Governments had declared war on Russia and that if we were liberated by the Russian forces it meant certain death. It was at this point that a wireless set which I had concealed in an army water bottle came in handy. On the second night of the march we were locked in a huge barn. I slung the aerial from one side of the barn to the other and, with luck, managed to hear some fragments of reassuring news.

The Russians were now advancing much faster than we could march, shells were falling in increasing numbers to our rear. Our guards by now realised that, for them, everything was finished, and were disappearing one by one, the camp commandant being the first to go. Marching along the main autobahn now became most dangerous. Russian fighter planes were strafing troops and supplies, so with our remaining guards we turned off the main road across open country to a place called Wagenitz. It appeared to be the huge country residence of a wealthy German, with cottages around it for the farm workers. It was here that we remained to await our liberation. On the estate was a huge underground cellar used for storing potatoes. We decided that this was the safest place to be when the German troops retreated and the Russians took over. Working on the estate were two Russian PoWs and some Polish prisoners. It was decided that it would be best for them to contact the Russian troops when they advanced. Gradually the Russian Army drew nearer. Over to our left we saw a number of German tanks advancing in the fields and an even greater number of Russian tanks meeting them. Crouching in the dark in the cellar we awaited our fate. The noise was terrific and the ground shook with explosions and the weight of armour that was churning the ground.

German troops were running, and running fast, just the odd anti-tank gun remained with its crew in position their task suicidal. At last, the two Russian PoWs contacted the first tank crews to arrive and paved the way to our meeting. We were saddened by the loss of two British PoWs and two Polish PoWs. Four years prisoners of war only to be killed within ten minutes of liberation. As we came out from the cellar we saw huge numbers of tanks followed by unbelievable numbers of stocky Russian infantrymen still advancing across country. It was here that we saw the use of the Russian 鈥淜atusha鈥� or Stalin organ. This was a self-propelled multi rocket firing ramp. These were employed in large numbers to soften up strong opposition.
On the estate were plenty of chickens, pigs and cows, and one would just take what one wanted. The Russians did not allow the cows to be killed and these were looked after by Russian troops. In no time at all chickens were being cooked in a huge boiler and pigs carcasses were hanging up all over the place. Fresh milk was plentiful, which was appreciated most by the PoWs.

The Russians, having pushed the German troops back, now began to receive the return fire from the German guns, so we decided to put a fair distance between the guns and ourselves. We eventually marched back to the town of Nauen, which the Russians had fortified strongly with large numbers of tanks. Eventually the local Russian commander took charge of us and billeted us in a local hotel 鈥� Russian troops both men and women doing the cooking, etc. At last, we were really free men, after four years. Watching the Russians gathering the German troops into captivity gave us all a great amount of satisfaction. As the fighting was still going on, we had to stay where we were until the Russian and American armies met. The Russians began to issue daily orders to the local population. All able bodied men and women had to report to the local authority to be issued with picks and shovels. This labour was organised to clean up the rubble in the streets and get the town back to normal. Then further orders were issued. All wireless sets and bicycles were to be handed in. How the Germans hated having to do the very things which they themselves had compelled people all over Europe to do.

British PoWs were free to wander around the town and always we were asked the same question by the local population. 鈥淲hen were the British troops coming to take over the area?鈥� Those Germans certainly did not like the same treatment which they themselves had meted out to the occupied countries.

The Russians buried a large number of their dead in the town. One day a number of us attended the burial of a fairly high ranking officer. After lowering the coffin into the grave all hell seemed to let loose with the Russians firing automatic weapons into the air in salute. Germans ran for shelter thinking that perhaps the war was not yet over.

With the American Army linking up with the Russians on the Elbe, our way home now lay open.

Russian army trucks (American lease-lend) finally drove us to the river Elbe where we finally handed over to the American Forces who, with even greater kindness, looked after us and flew us back to England.

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