大象传媒

There were quite a lot of P0WS roaming around aimlessly, wondering what to do. I noticed that a lot of rifles had been piled against the wall of a building, and as we were walking in gutter of the road, bless my soul, we were gently led or told to walk on the pavement by the civilians! I saw a group of people outside a bakers shop. Frank and I walked into the shop and asked for some cobs. The smell of fresh baking was lovely! We paid with prisoner's money, and they took it with no bother. I think they were too afraid of us and they did not want any trouble. After eating the cobs, we went to find out what was happening ... nothing! So we spent the time looking around and finished up stopping in a hall for the night.
In the morning, like a lot of others, we went to a hall where we were told that lorries would pick us up and take us somewhere, we didn't know where. As we went outside, there was a lorry with a lot of Frenchmen in it. At the side of the lorry, five Frenchmen were shouting at each other and waving their arms, cussing and swearing at each other. Now it so happened that Frank could speak three or four words of French and understood the gist of what they were shouting about. They had their lorry but the driver had packed-up and left them, so Frank told them he would drive it. Frank went to see the the chap in charge of the movement of POWs. There were the 50 Frenchmen, and us five. He was told to head for Nuremburg, so off we went. It was a lovely day, just the sort of day for a nice jaunt in a car. Travelling along on the level road was OK but when we were moving uphill and the road was nice and bumpy, the springs began to show their worth and the chassis of the lorry began to sway up, down, and sideways. The result was, with 50 men on top, we were flung all over the place. But, as the saying goes, "A third class ride is better than a first class route march!"
After about three hours of riding, we came to an open piece of land and, nestling under the trees was what we thought was a caf茅. There were a few cars outside so we stopped the lorry and we went to see if we could get a drink of something. It was full of Yanks who promptly told us to sod off. But we did get a cup of coffee and they told us the way to go and how to find the base that we were looking for. We travelled along, with the lorry swaying and rolling like a boat in a rough sea without any paddles. At times as we went up some steep hillsides, with a nice big drop on the far side of the road. I thought we were going over the edge on more than one occasion and we called Frank everything under the sun, including a run down on his family history! It made not the slightest bit of difference to him, as he knew where he was going we did not!
Eventually we arrived at a large petrol dump and, as we had still a long way to go, we were allowed to stop for the night. I didn't know where the Frenchmen were billeted and I didn't care too much. They were standing up the same as me; the only difference was that they were all wearing a full uniform and still had their fur covered packs on. I recalled the treatment we received as we marched through France after losing the battle of Calais in 1940. I did not want to have anything to do with them. It was not long before Yanks spotted our guns and we soon did a bit of exchanging, I received fags for mine. Then we lined up for some food. We each received a metal tray and were given spuds, meat and veg. It was great! And when we went back for more, we got it. What caught my eye was the physical condition of the Yanks. They were big, clean, healthy, and looking so fit, that I felt like a tramp. I was wearing a dirty vest, my trousers were mud-stained and dirty, and my boots were falling to bits - I was, to be quite honest, ashamed of myself and I had no reason to be. In this camp were a few wounded in the tents. As we were stopping for the night, we were asked to be quiet and let the wounded get their rest; this we did. Walking round the camp, I noticed a sheer wall of five-gallon petrol cans, or Jerry Cans'. There must have been thousands of them: After a while, we were taken to a tent, full of camp beds, and told to bed-down for the night. I slept like a log.
Lofty was awake first, and then we all went outside for a quick splash of water on our faces, we had breakfast and we were ready to go. The Yanks were good to us and wished us all best, saying that we would not be long before we landed back in England. So, with a full tank of petrol and 50 Froggies on board, we headed for Nuremburg. We travelled all day and, with the lorry swaying, creaking and groaning, we sped through the countryside. Several times, we went in the wrong direction, but who cared? We did not!
As we approached Nuremburg, there was a steady climb uphill for about half a mile. At the top, the road levelled off and we had a glorious view of a devastated city. Looking down on the buildings was breathtaking. Nearly everything was smashed to hell and back; there were only a very few that had escaped the bombs. Houses, factories and churches were roofless and windowless. I find it difficult to describe the utter devastation.
I do recall one particular point of interest. As I looked around, there was one factory, the works department, that had been blown to kingdom-come and back. Standing upright nearby was a single tall chimney. It looked as if, three quarters of the way up, the sides bulged out and then closed up again. Towards the top, right slam bang in the middle of the bulge was a round hole, which looked to me as if a shell from a gun had gone straight through it. That the chimney was still standing proved that it was well-built!
We picked our way amongst the rubble and eventually we came to camp we were looking for. It was a large house, and there were only a few Americans there. There was a bit of an office into which we all crowded. The Froggies we told to stop in the truck. The American officer looked at us five and said, "You men have my greatest admiration, and the thousands like you, to have suffered, as you have done, for the past five years. I am proud to meet you. I will do my best to get you away from here as soon as I can." Then he told us that he had already sent some 85 ex-POWs to the air base and that it would not be too long before we were on our way. We asked him what was to happen to the Frenchmen. He told us "I shall give them petrol and water, a map and instructions and they will find their own way back to France." As he took our particulars, I had a good look at him. His uniform and shirt with collar and tie were neatly pressed, clean, and fresh. I don't know ... after what we had been through for the past five months, and the conditions we had been forced to live in, I thought he was from another planet. Having finished the form-filling, we went outside to wish the Frenchmen 'bon voyage' as they set of for France and their Loved ones. I hope they made it safe and sound.
We were then taken to a small room where there was a bed, some chairs and a table, and told to take it easy. About five o'clock in the afternoon the officer came in and told us that we would be leaving at 7.30 pm to get the plane. We had coffee and then a couple of GIs came in to have a chat and ask us questions about the last five years, so the time passed. At 7.30 pm we were told to go outside and get into a jeep that was waiting for us. The driver told us we were going to the air base. Riding in the jeep felt like riding a camel in the desert, but we got there! At the aerodrome, there were a few more chaps, and we soon got chatting, about when we would be moving and where we might be going. At 9.30 pm, one of the GIs came and told us that the plane was waiting for us.
After a few minutes walk, there she was, sitting on the tarmac; she looked good! On her side were several black painted shapes which looked like bombs, and denoted the number of raids that the plane had been on. We boarded the aircraft and were guided to our places by a member of the crew who told us, like little boys, not to more around, but to stay put! When we were all in, the pilot, who was called Harry Watson, gave us a little talk. "Now you chaps, I have flown this plane 'Wee Junie' thousands of miles, I don't want you to wreck her! Under no circumstances are you to move from where you are sitting because, if you do move about, you can quite easily turn this plane over, and you will find yourselves with a new set of wings. Do I make myself clear? Do not move from your places, that's an order! We shall arrive at Rheims in France at 10.30 pm."
And we did! At the aerodrome were we landed, a huge transporter was waiting for us. As there 26 of us we had plenty of room to move about. It was dark and we did not know were we were heading for but, after about five miles, we stopped at a large hut, where that the driver was told to head for the camp that was only 200 yards up the road. When we arrived a GI told us to follow him and he took us to a large tent. Laid out on either side of the tent were camp-beds, complete with blankets. He told us to get our heads down and that he would call us up at about 6 am. I cannot say I had a good night's sleep. My brain just could not take it. At 6 am we were up and about and, after a quick cat-lick of a wash, were queueing up for breakfast. We received a thick slice of white bread! Boy, oh boy! Was it cake!? It was lovely and soft and, even eating it dry, it was manna. At 9am we boarded the transporter once more, heading back to Rheims to catch our plane home. Sadly though, flying conditions were so bad that we had to wait until the following day.
Back at the camp we just messed about, chatting to the GIs. It was then that I asked a GI what date it was, as I had lost count of days or time. He told me that it was the 13th May 1945. I told him I had been a POW, for 4 years and 51 weeks.
I went to find a quiet spot and just sat trying to think of what had happened, thinking hard - Where do I go from here? How did it happen that less than a week ago I, and a lot more like me were thinking how, in the name of Hell were we to survive if the war did not finish soon? We could not carry out the working conditions, the food was so terrible, so poor, so bloody awful.
So, I ask you, where did I find the strengh, the will to fight, to survive? How and where did I find the strength to march again? I can give the answer - prayer.
I thought of that unforgettable moment in the concert hall; the picture of King George VI, the 'Union Jack' and the singing of the national anthem. It was from that time onwards that our spirits rose. Renewed energy coursed through our bodies. We were free and proud. And, all being well, tomorrow I shall be in England. What then?
The next morning we all up nice and early. The sky was lovely and clear, just right for flying! With many a hand shake and shouts of good luck etc. from the GIs, the 26 of us again boarded the tank transporter and made our way to Rheims. At the airbase, we disembarked from our transport to find an Aircraftman of the Royal Air Force waiting to guide us to our place in the queue for our flight home.
We waited for a few hours, during which time we watched what was going on. Planes were flying to all over the place. What made us really look was seeing one plane pulling another along in the sky. We did not know until then what a glider was, we did now! At about 5 pm, a plane landed on the runway. It turned, headed straight for the spot where we waited and then stopped not ten yards away from us. It was a Wellington bomber! A side panel opened up and from the inside, an airman appeared at the doorway, looked at us with a large smile on his face, and said "Welcome aboard, chaps. Any more for the sky-lark?" After we had climbed aboard and we were all nicely in on either side of the plane, the pilot came from the cockpit. He had a good look at us and he was having quite a laugh to himself. He said "Hello lads, some of you look a bit worried. I know how you feel but don't worry. You will be in Blighty within an hour from now. Now then, while you are seated, for your safety and that of all of us, do not move. This plane must be kept on even keel while flying. Yesterday a plane was turning to land when the passengers all moved to one side of the plane. This sudden movement turned the plane on its side, and the result was the loss 24 lives. So stay were you are! I wish you all the best of Luck for the future. May you all have a happy home-coming. Cheerio." The side panel was then closed and then came the roar of the engines as they warmed up; it was great. It seemed only a short time later that the cockpit door opened and the co-pilot asked us, "Everything OK lads?" We all gave him a cheer and then he said "I have some good news for you. Now stay were are and don't move until you are told to." He looked at his watch and then, with a large smile on his face said "We are over the airport, and we'll be landing in five minutes time. All the best!" It seemed only seconds later that the engines stopped and the side panel was opened. England, my country!

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

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