大象传媒

War is over!

In the first week of May 1945, we were still working in the factory, but rumours were rife. The Russians were coming, the war was nearing an end, and the night time raids got heavier and heavier, ground fire increased also, but something out of the ordinary was happening, could it be true?

On May 9th at 8.30am, we saw the camp gate open, people were running around shouting and screaming, the war is over. We saw German soldiers marching in the road, with tired horses pulling lorries with soldiers on them; all their weapons were thrown on the road, to be picked up if you wanted to. The kitchen was open and storerooms, people were helping themselves. The victorious Russian soldiers arrived on horseback, bicycles and carts to the camp.

We got a piece of paper stamped, and told we were free. The Russians were brutal; they raped, pillaged and behaved like animals. We all went to the village and took what we could, looting the place. The Russians killed mules and we ate meat for days, people were sick from such a rich diet, and so much food.

After three weeks we were officially free, but pressured into helping them dismantle the whole factory down to every last screw, where it was put into containers bound for Russia. The camp was levelled and we could now depart for home. There were trains to different countries.

Our train for Croatia had to travel through Vienna, Budapest, Belgrade, Zagreb. There were bombs on the tracks; people were killed by Cetnic or Ustacia. The bridge was gone at Zagreb, we got a train to Ljubljana, Slovenia - a train to Maribor and marched home to Medimorje. I was carrying two suitcases and was interrogated at the bridge. I was called in, stripped, everything was taken off me, the suitcases and even my shoes. I was given his pair of old holed shoes.

I marched home to Grandma and Auntie; they cried, "Jesus Christ, are you alive?" My friend went home to his family and I never saw him again. I stayed two days with Grandma. Then two days later, a Black Maria took me to the local station for interrogation where I was locked up for three weeks.

Unwelcome return

I was three weeks locked up in a castle in Cakovec. There were all sorts of people there, young and old, they called us Fascists because we had worked in Germany. A lady used to come with her husband and son with a little bag with food in. We shared these meager rations between us. The conditions we lived in were dreadful, no sanitation or washing facilities. People were upset and crying, the younger ones were let out earlier than the older ones. Five of us, in a group, got cards with an official Yugoslavian stamp on them. We said our farewells and I headed back to Grandma. I stopped with Grandma for six weeks in the village. I then went to Aunty Maria鈥檚 - who had two daughters and a son. One daughter, also called Maria, was in Dachau in the Camp from 1943- 1945 because her husband, Martin, was a Partisan. She had two children Martin and Darinko. When the war finished in 1945 she came home from Germany through Marseille in France. Her husband returned from the Partisan Army, he was an Officer.

Another sister Lojzo was at home in the same house, her husband Jura had been in the Croatian Army in Stalingrad, he was in the Medical Corp. Lojzo was locked up in Crevojic for three weeks, the same time as us. As Martin returned from fighting in the forest there was an argument. Aunty Maria, Uncle Frank, Darinko, Lojzo and little Martin were in the house. Martin, the Partisan, pulled a pistol and pointed it at Lojzo and was shouting "where is he?" (Jura) he was calling her and him Fascists - "I'm going to shoot you and him when he gets back as a P.O.W. from Germany."

Jura got back from Stalingrad to Germany in 1943 by pretending to be wounded. He rubbed blood on himself, bandaged himself up and passed as a wounded soldier returning to Germany, "That was the last I heard of him" said Lojzo to Martin. Martin left, and headed for a pub, the whole house couldn't believe what they had witnessed, they were very upset and crying. Lojzo said "Mother I am going back to Zagreb", she was a dressmaker and would get work in Zagreb. She didn't know whether Juro was alive or dead.

I stayed with Aunty Maria for six months working on the farm. After three months a letter came for a medical for Tito's Army. All the young lads from the Village had to report to the Medical Office to pass for the Army. I was chosen to report for the Air Force. I ripped my call-up papers. I told my Aunty I was not going to the Air Force, I was going over the Border to Austria. She was upset; she wanted me to stay with them on the farm. "I can't stay here Aunty, Martin will cause trouble with the family, he thinks we are all Fascists", "Well my dear son go, if you feel you must, but God will help you. You have nothing here, your Mother is dead, the family is all split up, when would you go"? she asked. "I'm going to Slovenia working a bit here and there, until I get to the Border", I said.

I was working on the building at a place called Dravograd. It was near the Austrian Border. I lived in a hostel with young lads from Slovenia, Croatia etc, I met one young friend, Janz. We talked, I said "I was going across the Border to Austria, and then I would have a chance to cross the sea to Canada, America, or England." He said "he had a relation in America and would like to come with me and head for America."

Both of us left Dravograd with a small month's pay. The Foreman asked us why we were leaving, they needed all these young lads to help rebuild Yugoslavia. ''You ought to be proud to march for Tito" he said, he gave us our working cards, but he was not happy that he was losing two good workers - "I know your sort, where you come from". We just left.

We took our small cases and went to a pub in the town called Mezica. The landlord looked at us, and grinned, he sent us into the kitchen to his wife and daughter to deposit our cases and then return to him. He gave each of us a drink and then advised us what we should do. He knew where we were heading. His advice was to go to a farm on the mountain nearby, he gave us the address. We could in fact, if we were careful, work our way up over the mountain to the Austrian Border.

Over the Border

The Landlord gave us a woodchopper each and a big saw so that we would avoid suspicion. He gave us a rucksack with some food and we set out to the farm. We were offered the cowshed to sleep in, on the straw. In the morning we had breakfast of coffee and bread, the farmer said to be careful as patrols pass all day long, and it was only one mile to the Border.

We set to and cleaned the cowshed, we were told to look as if we were farm workers on this farm, innocent young lads. Any questions from the Patrol would be answered by the farmer. The Patrol was all Serbian. The farmer told us that Crna, pointing to a range of mountains, was the best way to Austria.

We left the farm on the third day with a rucksack, food and the farmer accompanied us. As we left for Crna, we saw the Patrol coming down the hill, they stopped us and asked for identification, we showed them our stamped Identity Cards. The farmer showed his - one of the soldiers said, looking at me "Novak! - why are you here in Slovenia, you come from Croatia?" I told him I had come to work in Slovenia. I was working in Dravograd, I changed my job, as I liked to work in the forest as a lumberjack. The two soldiers started talking in Serbian. They said "go, go" - they asked the farmer where we were all working, he told them we had to chop down a big fir tree, he told them we were working with him for weeks and weeks. The soldiers parted, one to Crna and the other up the mountain on duty. The farmer said "sit down lads, everything is quiet now" and he planned our next move. We were to go to the next farm up the hill, the farmer was called Hanz, he was only three-quarters of the kilometre from the Border. Hanz was this farmer's friend, we stopped for several weeks with Hanz, the farmer went home. We helped around the farm for our keep. We talked at night, Hanz explained to us about the Border, and where we were going to cross.

It was open ground, you could see houses on the Austrian side, you could even hear the cowbells and yodelling from the Austrian hills. We now had to check on the Patrol times, number and duration, it varied, sometimes there were three, other times two, and on occasions only one. Hanz advised us to take our tools, he would come with us and we would proceed to the Border.

If the Patrol came, we were to start chopping the tree. We were chopping a tree down when we saw a shadow coming towards us, it was a Patrol, we could see the dark faces and helmets, they were a Serbian Patrol- Hanz said "carry on lads working" they spoke to us "Debar Dan" -(good morning), Hanz answered in Slovenian, I stayed silent. They never asked for identification and chatted about the trees we were cutting down, how many etc, Hanz said "we had done quite a bit' when the soldiers had gone, Hanz said "sit down, and get your rucksack and food, start eating." He told us the best way and time to cross over the Border. He told us to wait for a dull night, without a moon, it could be two, three days. "Get your chopper, chop a mark in the tree, do this on the route to the Border" he said. We marked four big trees. He said "now this is the last tree before the Border, cut it down, and let it fall towards the Border." We left the forest then, to go back to Hanz's house. We had a nice supper with paraffin lamp lighting, we talked.

Hanz wanted to know why we were leaving Slovenia, we told him about the American relation, and how I was treated badly back home. I decided I hated Communism; I would like to start a fresh life in the West. "If you are crossing, use that last tree as a mark, go straight down to the Border, when you come nearer the Border, lie down flat and listen for the footsteps of the Patrol, if everything is quiet then go" said Hanz. "Next morning I will wake you up early, in the dawn, if there is a moon shining, you won't go, if it is dark, leave all your documents here, and go as you are, empty out your pockets - I wish you good luck and God bless." "If you do get across run, run, run, and then you will surrender to the Austrian Authority." "If you go to the West, drop me a letter and let me know how you are."

We set out for the Border that morning; we wished them all goodbye and thanked them for their help. We headed for the forest towards the Border. As we got closer we became more frightened, we could be shot on the spot. However, we got to the open ground covered in a high-wired fence, and said, 鈥渉ere goes.鈥� We crawled underneath on our bellies, and ran to the Austrian Border to another wire fence, which we got under and out to Austria. We ran as the dawn was breaking, hiding behind bushes on a small quiet road. We could see and hear people going about their business. We didn鈥檛 see an Austrian Patrol but suddenly a policeman on a bike with rifle came down the road. We got out on the road, put our hands up and surrendered to him.

He took us both to the local Police Station. Three British Army soldiers came for us in a jeep, and took us to Klangenfort. We were interrogated in Klagenfort through an Interpreter. Apart from our backgrounds, they wanted to know about Military sitings, movements etc, what documents we had and our birthplaces. We went to a Transit Camp from here, to Vilack, there were all nationalities here, mostly Slovenian families who escaped Communism. This was H.Q. for the British. The next camp was a huge P.O.W. for German prisoners coming back to Germany from the Russian prisoner of war camps, through Austria.

Working for the British

The British asked for volunteers to look after these German P.O.W鈥檚. Janz and I volunteered with other lads. We were given British Uniforms, with an armband with 鈥楰amp Police鈥� written on them. Our pay was forty fags a week. We were fed better now. Every week we escorted these Prisoners to the Railway Station with British soldiers supervising. They were put on trains for Germany, this was 1946/1947 鈥� 1947/1948. We were two years here, in Austria. In 1948 when the Camp was empty, the Allies asked us where we would like to go to in the West. Some put names down for Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Brazil, Chile, U.S.A and England, most Slovenian families went to Argentina. I put my name down for England, along with six others, to work in an English coalmine.

Off to England

On June 2nd, 1948, we left our Camp for England, to Hook of Holland by boat to Harwich. The boat was full of people D.P鈥檚 from every European country. We landed in Harwich where hundreds of buses took us to different camps throughout England. My group was sent to Yorkshire, a place called Melbourne 鈥� there were forty of us, of mixed nationalities.

We landed in a big American Camp, and were allotted sixteen to a Barrack. There were bunk beds, it was bitterly cold. We were issued with E.W cards and an N.I Number. We were kept here for nine weeks learning English and enough spellings etc, for our work in the mine.

We got paid one pound sterling per week. After nine weeks we had an exam, which when we passed, we were sent to the N.C.B. Training Centre at Malby, Yorkshire for three months, then it was down the mine. We left Malby after three months to another camp; N.B.C Hostel, Woodhouse, Nottingham and we were one month there. Our group were sent to an N.C.B Hostel in Atherstone, Warwickshire, this group was a mixture of nationalities. I started my job in the Griff Clara Colliery while still living in the Hostel in Atherstone.

We then were transferred to another N.C.B Hostel at Chapel End, Green Lane, Nuneaton, again there were Scots, Irish, European miners working in different mines in the area. I worked in the Griff Clara mine until 1950. I left the Hostel to private lodgings with my Slovanian friend in the Bucks Hill in 1950, there were four of us in the house, three Slovanian friends, Mr Janez Saje was the landlord. I lodged here until 1953 until I got married October 17th 1953 to Phyllis Milliner.

We lodged with Phyllis鈥檚 Dad for one year, then we got a Coal Board House in Camp Hill, Nuneaton. We have two children, daughter Allison and a son Stefan. They both went to St Anne鈥檚 School. Then in 1956 I joined the Coal Board Rescue and St. John Ambulance. I had been fourteen and a half years in the Rescue visiting every pit in Warwickshire, fire-fighting and practising. In 1968 when Arley pit finished I got a silver and Bronze medal for my service. My children are both married now and I have five grandchildren. I wanted them to know my story.

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