大象传媒

'This story was submitted to the 'People's War' site by Jenny Ford on behalf of Mr. Kenneth Clark and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions'.

In March 1943 I was captured by Germans in northern Tunisia. Two British Army doctors were captured in the same battle and taken to a German casualty clearing station to help the German doctors there. Because I knew some German the senior German officer at the casualty clearing station asked if I would act as translator in the operating theatre. I agreed.
For a week or so the three of us together with a British padre lived in the German officers' mess and were issued with a bar of Fry's cream chocolate every day - as were all the patients and medical staff. Our doctor was an accomplished pianist and in the evening he entertained us. One day a German doctor handed him a piece of sheet music and asked if he could play it. It was: "We're going to hang out our washing on the Siegfried Line."
Every morning I went with the two German doctors and a captured British doctor to the operating theatre. The British and German wounded were brought in straight from the front line covered in sand and blood. One of the German doctors administered ether; the other did wound excisions and occasionally amputations. Our doc acted as medical orderly and I acted as interpreter and general dogsbody.
The German anaesthetist was either incompetent or impatient: he signalled to the surgeon to start cutting before the patients were completely anaesthetised. This meant that we often had to hold them down. One day the German divisional commander appeared. Everyone stood to attention and the man rolled off the operating table on to the floor. I asked our doctor if this was normal. He, ironically enough a Glaswegian of Jewish origins, said, "All you have to do is get them to count and wait until they stop." I asked if he would like to take over the ether mask. He said he would like to.
I told the German surgeon that our doctor was an experienced anaesthetist and would take over if his colleague wanted a break. He welcomed the idea. My friend said, "What's the German for 'to count'?" I told him, he took the ether mask put it over the face of a wounded German and gave his own version of "Zaehlen, bitte" (count, please!) He dropped ether on to the mask whilst the man counted "Ein, zwei, drei ... " When his voice died away our doctor signalled to the surgeon to start .."
All went well and a day or two later the orderlies brought in a wounded German sergeant. When he had been anaesthetised the German surgeon said, "We'll play a joke on him. Take our white coats, give us orders as though we were your prisoners and we'll tell him he is a prisoner too."
When the wounded man came out of the anaesthetic Dr. Cohen issued orders to the two Germans, "Scalpel!" "Scissors!" They obeyed him and, as they passed the patient, one whispered, "Be careful what you say. We are prisoners of the British." The man believed them and they continued the charade for ten minutes. The poor chap was even more bewildered when they told him the truth!

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