大象传媒

The following is the copyright of Hans Alfred Nossky.

The following account of my, up to now 78 years, of my life have been written with grateful thanks to my dear Sister in Law, Mrs. Iris Martin. It was her idea and her encouragement that made me put pen to paper.

From "Rags" to "Riches"

Before I start writing about my life, I must point out that everything I write about is the absolute truth of what happened in my life in Germany, my time serving in the Army, my time as a POW (Prisoner of War) in England and my subsequent life in England up to the present time.

When I was born on the 1st October 1924, my Mum and Dad had three children already, an older sister and two brothers. Two years later another child was born, my dear little Sister who I loved with all my heart. More about that later.

We lived in a two-roomed Flat, on the second floor of a terraced house. When I say two-roomed flat that means a Living room come Kitchen and one Bedroom. Seven of us, including Mum and Dad, slept in the one Bedroom. Mum and Dad slept in one double bed, my two brothers in another double bed, and the other three, my two sisters and I, in another double bed, with a little skylight to let in some daylight.

My parents had very little money but the tiny Flat was full of love in abundance. Even the Flat was very crowded. In the corner of the Living room was a stove, heated by a coal fire, which my Mum had to light every morning to make us a hot drink. We had no hot water, and the Kitchen stove was the only way to heat the Living room. One cold water tap, above a half-moon shaped cast iron sink, was the only supply point for water, which was situated on the Landing. One Toilet half way up the stairs was being used by us and shared with an elderly couple that lived on the same Landing. It was not a W/C.

All the cooking of our meals, my Mum had to carry out on the coal fired kitchen stove. How my dear loving Mum, managed to feed the seven of us, I will never know. It was a Miracle. I must point out, however, with pride to my dear Mum, we never once left the table hungry.

My childhood may have been spent in crowded surroundings, but it was a happy, loving house, always full of laughter. We may have been poor money wise but we were raised by our parents in the right way, to respect people and other peoples' property, and I am proud to say none of my brothers and sisters ever fell foul of the Law and never got into trouble outside the house. My parents were hard working Law abiding citizens and so were their children.

For example, my Mum cooked a hot meal for lunchtime. It had to be ready by quarter past Eleven. She then put three meals into containers and set out on her daily routine to deliver those three meals to the workplaces of my Dad and my two brothers. First to my Dad, from Dad's workplace to the Factory of my elder brother, then a mile up the road to my middle brother. On her way home she used to call at my Dad's workplace, stay with him for a short time, then carry on her way home. That was her routine for five days a week. I left school at midday, got home and picked up my sister's meal, walked three miles to my sister's workplace to deliver her lunch. How my Mum managed her daily routine, I will never know.

To get her weekly wash done was again for her, a very hard task. No Washing Machines in those far-gone days. First thing in the morning she would have to light a fire for the boiler in the Washhouse in the yard, carry the water from a pump in the yard, in buckets to fill the boiler. When ready, she had to wash every thing by hand on a washboard, ring it out after rinsing, by a hand-operated wringer. She would load the damp washing into a basket and carry it on her back to a drying place, and when dry collected it and carried it home.

I remember when I was about four years old, my elder sister became ill with Diphtheria and was taken to Hospital. I was diagnosed with the same illness two days later. My poor Mum carried me on her back three miles to Hospital to be admitted to the Ward where my sister was. It was at Christmas time because Father Christmas was visiting the Ward. I am sorry to say I had an accident and wet the bed; the Nurses put me with my Sister in her bed, while they looked after my damp bed. Father Christmas found out about it and made me promise never to wet the bed again.

Speaking of Christmas, Christmas was always a very happy time at our house. Dad and Mum made us kids go into the bedroom while they laid out our presents. We stood behind the bedroom door, asking "can we come in?" and Dad always replied "in another minute". Sometimes it turned out a long minute. When we were allowed into the Living room, with shining eyes, the candles on the Tree were lit, and we all had a present laid out and sweeties. My baby sister had an open-fronted Dolls House. (Dad made new furniture for it every year). I had a wooden Store with sweets, etc. etc. My elder brother had a steam engine (Dad made new models for it every year). My elder sister had a lovely doll with new made clothes (Mum made new clothes every year) and my middle brother would have a new wind-up lorry or car. We were as happy as kings. My Mum and Dad did everything they could to make us happy, and I can say they succeeded with that every year.

Bath time in my early youth was also hard work for my parents. We did not have a bathroom, of course. We had a long Zinc bathtub, which was kept hanging on a wall in the yard. That tub had to be carried up two flights of stairs and placed into the bedroom.

The boiler in the washhouse had to be filled with water nom the pump in the yard. The fire to the boiler had to be lit to get some hot water. The water had to be carried in buckets up two flights of stairs. We kids drew lots for who would be lucky enough to be the first in the bath, with lovely, clean hot water. After we all had our weekly bath, the water had to be ladled out of the tub and emptied into the sink on the landing. What a job.

When I was six years of age I started school at our local school. The teachers were fair but we were treated with an iron rod, or should I say "cane". The cane was used by some of the teachers in abundance. But I must say, it made men out of boys. In the summer, school started at 700 a.m. until 12 noon. During winter starting time was 8.00 a.m. until 1.00 p.m. We had no afternoon school, but were given plenty of homework. Mum made us do our homework before we were allowed into the streets to play.

I was very close to my younger sister, because we were closer in age, only 18 months apart. My elder sister was eight years older than my baby sister. I loved my young sister most dearly, and if ever she had any problems she would come to me and we would sort her problems out together. We were, as I said, very, very close. When my sister was about ten years old, she became ill with Diphtheria. She was not admitted to hospital, she was nursed at home. I had to stay at home because of her illness and not allowed to attend school. I remember sitting by her bedside for hours and hours reading to her.

Two years before I left school I started to attend Confirmation classes at our local Rectory, and on Palm Sunday 1939 was confirmed at our local church. A week or so later I started work at a Factory, which manufactured Piano Accordions, just around the corner nom my house.

Before I carry on writing I must return to the years in my earlier life. During my days at school, lots of changes in my Country took place. Poverty was in abundance and the living standard of most people rather low, unemployment very, very high. The Country was at its knees. Along came a man, Herr Hitler, who promised the people a higher lifestyle, full employment and the end of poverty. His saying was "Give me four years time and I will abolish unemployment". He was elected to form a Government in January 1933. I am sorry to say, with terrible results in the later 1930's. But at the time, he seemed the man to give help and hope to the people.

His Government started to build the German motorways. He may found employment for 100,000 people, but by doing so, helped other industries in the country. People had lived for a long time in poverty. All at once, those people had more money to spend and were able to eat better, be able to replace worn out clothes for their family. Consequently, all other industries came back to life. The idea was simple, and I must say it seemed to work. If you were unemployed and a job was offered to you on the building of the Motorways, no matter what your former employment was, you had to take that job or your unemployment benefit was stopped.

Many people said to me often "How can a Nation, which is supposedly clever, follow a Leader who later started a Second World War, so blindly?" My reply always was - "when one has lived for years in poverty and a low living standard, and a man comes along and offers one a better life, most people follow that man, blindly." I can truthfully say that, for the first few years in power, the living standard of people was raised considerably and poverty almost abolished.

As I said earlier in the writing of my life story, I lived all my life in Germany in a one bed-roomed Flat, and seven of us slept in that one bedroom, me sleeping three in a bed with my two sisters. I must point out, however, before my sisters reached puberty, my Dad managed to rent a small Box room in addition to our Flat, decorated it nicely and it became my sisters' bedroom. The Box room was on the same Landing as our Flat, the door was lockable, so the girls were quite safe in their bedroom.

I also said earlier, that I left school at Easter 1939 and started work a week or two later, but my schooling was not quite finished then, I had to attend school for a further three years, one full day per week to be prepared for our later life in employment. We were taught subjects which would be of help to us in business, like Book Keeping, etc. etc. It was compulsory to attend those lessons, as our employers paid our wages whilst attending school.

In September 1939 the awful thing happened, the outbreak of World War Two. My Dad at the age of forty years was called into the Army, but discharged about six months later. My elder brother was called up a month or two later. Soon after, my middle brother was called up also. I carried on working, but received my Call up Papers, on the 1st October 1942, on my eighteenth birthday. My elder brother was with the Army at the Frontline in Russia in July 1942. On the 22nd August 1942 my parents were notified that my brother had been stung by an unidentifiable insect, which led to Blood poisoning. After admission to a Field Hospital, he passed away on the evening of 20th August 1942. He was buried with military honours at an Army Cemetery in Rostov in Russia - Grave No 44. It was a great shock to us all. I don't think my poor Mum ever got over the death of her eldest son. I was still at home at the time, sleeping in the same bedroom as my parents. I woke up many times at night, hearing my dear Mum sobbing into her pillow. Then another shock for Mum, I was called up into the Army, her third and last son, called away from our happy home.

On the 16th October 1942 I was called up into the German Army to the Barracks in Frankfurt / Main in Germany. I spent the first four weeks there for my initial training. We were treated by the Training Staff like children and not like men being trained for fighting a War. Before we were let into the Dining Hall we had to line up, hold out our hands for the Instructor to inspect our hands and fingernails, to see if they were clean. We then had to show our plates, knives, forks and spoons, to the Instructor to make sure they were also clean. I have never come across such humiliating treatment in all my life. Thank the Lord, we were there for four weeks only.

After the four weeks initial training I was sent to the South of France to finish my training for a further two months at 8t. Etienne. After the Passing Out Parade we were transported back to Germany, this time to Frankfurt / Oder, a town in East Germany. After a few days there, we were again transported back to France. Whilst in France for several months in 1943, I was taken ill with Pneumonia and admitted to a German Naval Hospital in a small town, St. Anne. I stayed there approximately six weeks. After my stay in that Hospital I was sent to a Convalescent Unit in Germany near Berlin, until I was declared fit again for ordinary duty at a fighting Unit. I stayed at the convalescent Unit for nearly six months, and during my time there helped to build Nissan Huts for German Army girls. I enjoyed helping to build these huts, immensely.

Whilst serving at the Unit, I was fortunate to receive the odd weekend leave to visit my home. On one of my weekend passes, I was lucky to be able to attend the wedding of my middle brother. That was the last time I saw him and his dear wife, for fifty years. (More about our reunion later). After serving in the Convalescent Unit I was posted to a Unit in Holland, helping to build defence barriers along the Dutch coastline. I was very happy at that Unit.

In June 1944 on the Day of the Normandy Landings by the Allied Forces, I was working on the Dutch Coastline building the defence barriers, when we received orders to pack up ready to move into France, in a short while. Our Unit by that time was not fully equipped for such a move. So the following day some of us were sent into Amsterdam with requisite forms, to find some horses and wagons, to enable the Unit's equipment to be loaded up and driven to the Railway Station. I saw a small flat wagon, loaded with potatoes, and stopped the driver to requisition his horse and cart. I was sorry to have to do that, but 'orders are orders.' We drove to his house to unload the wagon, I handed him the requisition form so he could claim compensation from the German authority, and took the horse and cart to our Unit. We used it all day to carry equipment from our Unit to the railway station. The owner of the horse and cart followed me all day on his cycle, not letting his horse out of his sight. I could not blame him, after all, that horse and cart was part of his livelihood as a potato merchant. He even slept in the woods during the night, in the open, so as not to let his horse out of his sight.

The next day, my Commanding Officer asked me if I knew where the horse and cart came from. I knew because we unloaded the potatoes at the owner's house the day before. He said the cart was not quite big enough to take with us to France, and we were to return it and get the requisition form back from the owner of the horse. I returned to the street where the horse came from. When I arrived there, all the neighbours came out of their houses and cheered me for bringing it back. I felt good to think of having done a good deed. As I said, the owner had followed me all the previous day, but the morning when I took the horse back to his house, he had lost sight of me in the heavy traffic. I asked his wife for the requisition form back, but she could not find it. What could I do? She promised me, as soon as her husband came back, she would send him to the railway station to return the form. I trusted her and left the horse and cart with her. True enough, a short while after, her husband arrived at the station and returned the form. I was pleased for him, having his horse back, and pleased with my self for having done a good deed. Within a few days we were transported to France.

We dug ourselves in on the River Orne and stayed there for several days. After a spell in those dugouts, we were ordered further back inland, and again dug ourselves in alongside a railway embankment. At approximately 6 a.m., I was just beginning Guard Duty, a mighty roar made me look up into the sky, and I saw hundreds of Bombers approaching. The sky seemed full of the Allied Bombers. A Pathfinder plane dropped a flare and down came the bombs, thousands of them. I rushed into my dugout for safety. The ground around was violently shaking with the exploding bombs. I shared a dug out with a soldier who was not very well liked (he was rather unpleasant, always swearing, etc. etc.) I never once saw him at Church parade, so he was not a Believer. When I got back to my dugout, there he was in the corner of the dugout, on his knees, praying to God to be saved. As soon as the Bombers flew off, we were heavily shelled by the Allied Artillery. I was wounded in my back by a piece of shrapnel and more or less immobilized. I was taken Prisoner of War on that same day.

Continued as Rags to Riches part 2

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