大象传媒

We set off about midday across the valley and arrived on the outskirts of the village about two hours later, we asked him if he would go in first and see if there were any Germans in the area. After a short while he returned with another man who would take us through the village to a barn where we could spend the night, but we would have to move on the next morning as there were Germans in the neighbouring villages and there was also a main road in the valley below. They gave us some food and left us, but returned at daybreak to see us on our way again. We travelled down a path towards the valley, then suddenly, rounding a bend we saw the main road, it was alive with German transport, troops and guns. The two guides told us there was another village the other side of the road behind the hill named Verrichia, they pointed out the track to it and left us to our own destiny. The point was how to cross the road, luckily the road was lined each side with trees, at the point we were aiming to cross was against a U bend in the road, we sat and watched for a while and the traffic eased off so we crossed at intervals one at a time and hid in the woods then made for the track we had been shown. This wound uphill and eventually we came to a clearing and saw a youth with some sheep, we asked him where the track was for Verricha and he just looked at us and said Tedeschi which means Germans, we thought he meant the village, but a few seconds later there appeared a German soldier with a rifle slung over his shoulder, he just waved at us and carried on. It turned out that he had been rounding up sheep for the German army who were in the next village, luckily in the opposite direction to which we were going. Eventually we arrived in Verrechia but to a cold reception, the sheep we saw with the Germans were theirs. We carried on over the next hill and there spread out in the valley were three large villages. These were beside a railway so they were definitely out. We back tracked into the hills again and soon came to another village, Canistro. Here we were given a bit of food but were not allowed in the village at all, someone brought us food etc and we slept in a barn about half a mile from the village. After a couple of days here we were asked to move on, as it was getting unsafe. We skirted by three villages and came to a small place called Morea. Here we obtained some food but were asked not to stay, so on our way again. Next village was San Vincenza, also very scared, we scrounged some food but had to move on. Our travels were in the foothills of the Apennine Mountains; most of the villages seemed to be perched on top of hills with no road to them except a mule track.

The time now was November 1943 and finding food and accommodation was becoming very difficult. One morning we came across a shepherd who seemed a bit more sympathetic than most of the people we had met, he led us to a barn and we collected food from the local village, San Giovanni by name. After a couple of days, again a scare, Germans in the area, so again on the move.

There were only three of us at this stage, myself and two South African soldiers who had been in the same camp as I had. After a few days of wandering around with no possible chance of food or accommodation, things began to look bad, we were near the battle area and on one occasion we heard what sounded like gun fire, being on the mountains sounds and distance were distorted. One day we rounded a bend in the hills and saw in the distance a road but with no traffic on it, after watching it for a while we decided to press on. Rounding another hill we saw in the distance another village, we decided to make for this and chance our luck, as we neared the village we came across a man and woman, one of my mates, Ken spoke a good bit of Italian and explained who we were. They were sympathetic towards us but warned us not to go into the village Balsorano as the Germans may come back, thy gave us some bits of bread and pointed a way we could avoid the village, so once again on our way. There was no decent place to sleep except huddle together under an overhang of rock. Next morning we set out again slowly climbing, no sign of human habitation at all, winter coming on, what a prospect, looking back we could see the village of Balsorano below in the valley. Eventually we arrived at a very small village called Ridotti. Surprisingly we were given some food and a place to bed down for the night, but we must be on our way in the morning. The next village was Pesscosolido. Here we came up against some resistance from the villagers, no food or accommodation. One man however said he would bring us some food, this might have been a trap but we were past caring, however he returned alone with food, and that was the last we saw of him.

Next morning we set off along this winding track and eventually found ourselves on the outskirts of the previous stopping place, Forcello. Sitting on a low wall was a man in a raggy suit wearing a cap, Ken spoke to him in Italian and he replied in English, it transpired he was a lone wanderer like ourselves, seeking food and shelter, his name he told us was David Evans and his home was in Lancashire. He told us he had been to Balsorano and the villagers had told him there were three more prisoners in the area and if he saw them he was to bring them to this spot. We shared food with him. A short while later a man and a woman came to us and David said these were those who had spoken to him earlier in Balsorano, they beckoned us to follow them, and we turned round a bend in the track and came across two more P.O.W鈥檚 these were South Africans. The woman explained to us they were taking us into the mountains to a place where we could spend the winter. We walked to the bottom of a ravine and caught up with two more escapees and three Italian women with a large basket of food each on their head. Now began the long trek up the mountain, after a couple of hours stiff climb we emerged onto a flat patch at the top, faced by a fairly high cliff face, tucked away round the corner was a very substantial building, and opposite in the cliff face was a cave with an iron gate secured by a padlock, but more of this later. The men led us into the building and up the stairs to a large room with a huge fireplace, in an adjacent room were numerous bales of straw. The whole area was surrounded by pine and fir trees so there was no shortage of firewood. For some reason the women were not allowed to enter the building, as it was simply a man鈥檚 domain. The men fetched the baskets of food from downstairs and put it on the floor and then joined the women and returned to the village. They told us someone would come again in three or four days with a supply of food. The provisions consisted of bread, flour, potatoes, herbs and some Italian tobacco. By this time it was getting dusk, we explored the building and found a window where we could see the village down at the bottom of the valley, and gradually receding from view our friends returning to the village. We soon had a roaring fire going and a meal of bread and potatoes. After a smoke and a cup of coffee flavoured with chicory root we turned in for the night.

During the night a strong wind rose, it howled round the building but we were safe and warm, looking out next morning we saw the whole area was covered in thick snow, it cut us off from the village completely, so, if we could not get out, no one could reach us, either Ities or Germans. It snowed all day but with a little care we could make our food last out.

Now for a description of our 鈥渉ome鈥�, as I mentioned previously, we could not enter the cave as it was closed by an iron gate secured with a padlock, the building we occupied was very large, there were cooking pots, a couple of camp beds which were not in very good condition, we slept on straw on the floor, this was better than some of the places we had used in the past. After about five days of settling down we saw three or four people struggling through the snow towards the building, our first thought was Germans, we packed our bits and pieces and prepared to move but with no idea as to where, as the visitors drew near we saw they were women, accompanied by someone in a long cloak. From our first site of them until they reached us was about an hour. The person in the cloak was a Monk from the village; the women had brought us a fresh supply of food. The monk unlocked the gate on the cave and with the help of a lantern he explained the cave to us. According to legend, St Michael was having a fight with the Devil at a village called Foggia, a few miles from us, apparently the allies were in possession of Foggia at this time, however we did not know that or we might have made a move to try and reach them. Anyway back to the legend, St Michael escaped from the Devil through an underground passage, which led into the cave we were in. The monk showed us the entrance to the tunnel, and in the roof was a perfect imprint of a rosary, and a red stain on the roof where St Michael was supposed to have bumped his head. Inside the cave were three very beautiful altars. One for St Michael, one for St Angelo and one for the maddona and child, they were all done in mosaic and were kept in very good condition. In the building we occupied, was a large chest also padlocked, the monk unlocked the chest, it contained all the necessary equipment to celebrate the Mass, Chalice, patten and priests鈥� vestments all decked out in gold braid, no wonder it was kept under strong locks. The whole set up was called The Grotto of St Michael and St Angelo and a gathering was held once a year in the building by the men only.

I鈥檝e tried over the years to find a book on the centre of Italy to see a description of this but up to now no luck. The village at the bottom of the ravine is Balsorano, quite a large village, we spent Christmas 1943 here, it was a poor substitute, but still better than roaming the mountains in the winter. Our stay here lasted until the end of February 1944, by now the snow was beginning to go, one of the party decided to go on his own. We shared the food with him and wished him luck. The panic again, an Itie dashed up the ravine to tell us we had to get out, as there were Germans in Balsorano, and would be coming up here. The road down to the valley was clear of snow, but the area round us was still thick with snowdrifts. We put out the fire and packed up some food and blankets each and travelled across the top of the hill to the other side of the ravine and made ourselves a shelter under an overhanging rock and hoped for the best. We dare not make a fire at all, we just huddled together for the night.

After a nasty sleepless night we decided to make tracks for the valley below and hope to get clear. On the other side of the ravine we could see our sleeping quarters about three quarters of a mile away, suddenly we saw seven or eight people coming up the ravine, we watched them and they turned out to be Germans. They got to the building and surrounded it, threw smoke bombs in it and waited. They went in and stayed a while and then came out, we counted them as they went down the valley in case they had left one behind, but the same number went down as came up, so we decided to go back after a short while, but still keeping a watch, we did not light a fire in case it would be seen from below. We decided to risk another night in the building, but to go next morning. We were on the move at daybreak down the ravine, half way down we were met by an Itie who told us the place was thick with Germans. He had come to guide us away from the village to another path away from the village; he led us over the hills and onto another track, which he said would take us away from the Germans. We passed through various places some friendly, some not, eventually we arrived at our original resting place Pietraforte. I was the only one left of that original party of five months ago, we saw a youth who remembered the English prisoners who had stayed there but made it plain we were not welcome there at all. He pointed out a track for us to take that would take us to a village called San Lorenzo, none of us had been here before, we managed to scrounge a meal but no sleeping accommodation. By this time there were only three of us, Ken, Boysie and myself.

After a few days we found shelter in a stable and visited two neighbouring villages, Giergenti and Toniacorda, getting supplies of food. Then the usual scare of Germans. On Easter Sunday we came to a small village named Rocca, here we were given food and moved on. Soon we came to another village which turned out to be our last port of call as events will show. The name of the village was Marciatelli.

One of the locals led us to a cave where we could sleep and visit the village during the day for food, this worked well until one morning we were wakened by some shots on the roof of the cave, we were ordered to come out with our hands up, they were Germans, they searched us and asked us who we were, we told them we were British prisoners of war on the run, they laughed and told us we had been 鈥渟hopped鈥� by an Itie youth to the Germans for fifteen hundred lira, another lesson learned, not to trust the locals. We were marched into the village in bare feet through the woods and put under armed guard in an old garage. They gave us food and said we were wrong to trust the Ities. After being fed we were taken to a civilian prison in the town of BORGOROSSI and placed in a cell on the top floor, three storeys up and locked in, no bedding or anything. The cell was about six feet wide and twelve feet long, two other inmates were Indians who had been captured, we didn鈥檛 know where, we could not communicate with them due to language difficulties.

The conditions here were grim, no bedding at all, we were not allowed out the cell except once a day to visit the toilet, even then we were helped down the stairs with the guard鈥檚 boot. These were not German soldiers as such. They were the Hitler Youth Movement, seventeen to nineteen year olds and all for the Fuehrer. Our food consisted of a small piece of bread, three or four boiled potatoes and a cup of so-called soup.

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