大象传媒

Warning: this story contains strong language
and is part of a longer contribution.

6912361, A/Cpl R, Ruffle
1st Battalion, Rifle brigade

This article is about me, my thoughts, my impressions and my opinions.
You can take them how you like, but remember, this is the truth.

Still marching!
I marched on until we came to a large factory. Here we were herded into various rooms and the blokes just dropped were they were, too weary to take their boots off and give their feet a chance to breathe some fresh air. I soon found a spot to rest my weary body and, like the others, slept the sleep of the just. It did not seem five seconds before the guards arrived to inform us that the dawn had come and that there was work to be done.
We all gathered in front of the factory and the guards split us up in groups of about twenty five men. Two guards led my group away and we walked through various buildings and finished up on a landing stage by a canal. Alongside the canal were a lot of long barges, each filled up with goods stolen from somewhere. It was our job to unload these barges. The barge we got was filled with stacks of wooden boxes, the contents of which were of considerable interest to us. The name of the country that these boxes came from was Argentina. That meant corned beef! Now it so happened that one of the guards spoke a bit of English, and he told us that as soon as we had finished, we could go back to the factory. At midday, the guard told us to stop work and follow him. This we did and, lo and behold, he took us to a field kitchen! We were given hot soup, a couple of large spuds, and a thick slice of bread. Believe me it was very, very welcome. We all got together and worked out a plan to smash a box open and help ourselves to the contents. We returned to the barge and started to unload, two of the chaps got on top of the remainder of the boxes and, when the guard walked away, they just threw the one box to the floor of the barge. Result - one broken box, and the contents flew all over the place. The tins soon disappeared. There was a mad scramble by us to pick then up and put them in our pockets! We soon had the barge empty and, true to his word, the guard marched us back to the factory. As we went through the buildings, we were led into a large empty room. The guard who spoke a little English said to us "You all comrades, why have you not shared the tins of meat between you? I know you took them, so I want you to put them on the floor, I know that one of you has six tins, and some have none." I put my two tins on the floor, and so did the remainder. In each box were fifty tins, so it worked out to two tins per man. When the guard counted them and there was one short, we told the man who had not given the tin up to hand it over smartish which he did. Then we were allowed to take two each. We arrived back in the factory about five o'clock, just in time to get a handful of biscuits and a drink of 'coffee' made from burnt barley. We settled down for the night with the knowledge that we were working tomorrow.
The next morning we were taken back to a barge which was loaded with sacks of barley and wheat. Once again we were told that the sooner we finished, the quicker we could go back to the factory. We had to carry the sacks about fifty yards and empty them down a shaft. It was then that I noticed a dirty tin can lying in the corner of the room. I picked up the tin and put in my tunic. At mid-day we were told to follow the guard for some grub. Again we were given some soup, spuds and bread, and a half-hours rest. We were not long getting the work finished and we were marched back to the factory. Regarding the mid-day meal, we had nothing to put the soup in that is the reason why I picked up the tin can. I soon found a spot to settle down and inspect my find. I looked at the can and saw that it was covered in thick grease inside and out and that, for some reason or another, the top had been cut off. I was very pleased and I proceeded to clean it out. I used all manner of things to get the grease out; dirt from the floor, old paper, dirty rags - anything to clean it. As I polished it inside, I found that it was brightly tinned so it would be OK for getting drinks in.
At about six in the morning, we were on the march again - to where? We had heard that there was a possibility that we may be going by train to Germany, as a lot of men had already been transferred to trains. The date was June 20th and we have been on the go for about 26 days, although it seemed like a lifetime. We been doing an average of 35 - 40 km a day. No wonder we were tired.
We kept on going for another five days and we were now in Belgium and heading for Germany. We arrived at a town called Sint-Truiden where we stopped in a large factory overnight and were given some bread and sausage. The next day we bypassed Tongeren and we kept going, wondering when, in the name of hell, we were going to stop. We were nearing the end of our journey and were bypassing Maastricht near the German border. I well recall the last bit of scenery I saw in Belgium as I walked along the road. On the right-hand side of the road it was all green fields. On the left, the houses were nicely painted and clean. There were not many people about and in the distance was a large copse of trees that were rather tall. The branches were very close together and so they stopped the sun from shining through. It was gloomy as we passed under them, and it was here that the tarmac road ended. There was a bend in the road and not a hundred yards away was the German border. It was a pole painted red and white, placed across the road and there were a couple of dozen German guards who were looking at us with great interest. I looked down the cobbled road and saw on the right a dirty great slag heap and a little farther on was the pit-head of a coal mine. On the left was a long row of houses. On every wall, doorway, window and rooftop were hundreds of German flags - Hitler's swastika. And when I saw them, like thousands of other heroes, I pulled back my shoulders and held my head high, proud, unbeaten and unashamed. Yes, the German people had every right to shout and wave their arms, jeering and cursing, or was it cheering? The people were laughing and shouting at us as we marched past. Me, I looked at them and shouted "You can shout and cheer now, your tears will come later." I was right.
I am not concerned with what the Germans thought of us as P0Ws. As far as I know, we were heroes, one and all. We were sent to France to fight an enemy that had been preparing for war for years. And those countries that were supposed to have knocked the living daylights out of them in the 'Great War' of 1914-19l8, sat on their fat ars*s and watched them build up a small navy of some of the most up-to-date ships that the world had ever seen. One ship in particular, the Bismarck was a ship whose name has gone down in history. The governments of the day must have known from the tanks, guns, lorries and the training of manpower, that Jerry was a future threat to the peace. Hitler would not dream of starting a war - so thought a lot of very brainless men in power. They thought that as Germany had been beaten in the last war, all they had to do was to talk to him on the rightness of keeping the peace and he would do has he was told. He sent his troops into the Ruhr Valley and took it back from the French yet still peace must be kept at all costs. Not only that, we must keep to the charter of the League of Nations as we did not want to upset them and and their ideas. Disarmament was the watchword of the day. The same thing happened when King Edward VII warned the nation of the plans that the Kaiser had, yet still no notice was taken and the result was the war of 1914. The little army that we sent over were known as the 'Contemptible Army'. Yes, they were overwhelmed and chased by the German forces. But they did not catch them and their pursuers were forced to stop when their losses were too great. The Old Contemptibles had given the Kaiser a bit of a bashing at a little place called Mons, and the result was four years of trench warfare. The Kaiser did not succeed in driving the British Army out of France, but Hitler did.
So I marched on. It was then, I don't know why, that the words of a song came to mind.
For I wandered alone in a strange land,
the place was so dull and drear,
When a voice that I heard seemed to call me,
it brought to my mind , memories dear.
I voiced all my joys and sorrows,
gave pray to the one above,
for O God hear my prayer,
Take away all my care,
there'll be joy in my heart always.
At last we were marched into a large railway siding and along a line of covered trucks. The men showed great joy and interest in the trucks; we were about to have a ride! After our march through France, Belgium and Holland, it was about time we had a lift! The only thing was we did not know what we were in for ...

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Genevieve Tudor of the 大象传媒 Radio Shropshire CSV Action Desk on behalf of Mark Ruffle and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.