大象传媒

One abiding memory I have regarding those seven months underground, was a tune being constantly whistled by those Czechs. I had never heard it before, but it was later to become very popular with British forces also. It was 'Lilli Marlene.'
The tune which used to make us furious was that sung at the top of their voices by the Nazi Youth as they marched past our camp -'We're marching against England.
Following an air raid warning during the night, it was pitiful to see all the old folk doubled up by the weight of their possessions on their backs, who could often be heard saying in German 'Dear God, when is this war coming to an end?'
Our food consisted of 'bread' -which was said to have been made of potato flour and sawdust, coffee made from burnt acorns, tea made from hedge clippings. The meat was made of goodness knows what, but it was very strange that we never saw any cats or dogs about!
During those bleak and boring days, it was all too easy to think that we had been forgotten in the wilderness, so was it any wonder that we regarded an air raid as a real break in the monotony. When working at the pit top, we would try to enter the mine shelter, but the Germans often prevented us entering, saying that they thought the British were supposed to be so brave. We then had no alternative but to run like mad to the Erzgebirge Mountains (Iron Ore Mountains), which were on the German-Czech border about two miles away. In so doing, we would pass jagged shrapnel all around. When on the mountainside we used to 'hug' the trees, which gave a false sense of security and could see the bombs being released from the aircraft like silver fish near to where we had left!It was very strange but when on the other side of the fence, so to speak, as long as we could see German markings on a 'plane we would say 'It's ok.,it is only one of ours!'
I was particularly upset, when at about mid-day or so on Christmas Day, 1944, without any warning, as far as I can remember, bombs were dropped on a camp just along the road from us, (part of our 1Vc), when seven or so of our men were killed. I do remember saying that one would have thought that they could have eased off for the occasion!. To this day I send a Christmas card to a lady in Wolverhampton whose father was, unfortunately, one of those seven or so killed on such a sad day and when she was only three years of age! She and her husband also send me a card and they have been to the area in Czechoslovakia several times in remembrance.
I understand that it has very much changed since then, according to someone they met who was living there at the time.
Without being unduly sombre, I had always maintained that when the war eventually came to an end, surely the Germans would not let us free to roam about, but would possibly line us up in the camp and turn a machine gun on to us or, to put us all down the mine and flood it out. Later on in this story you will see that I was not far out in my thoughts!.
Our Lagerfuhrer thought it was not right for men to be held without being able to visit a brothel, so somehow some civilian clothes were duly smuggled in and some more adventurous among us, set out and scaling the barbed-wire fence, took with them either a bar of soap, or a tin of sardines
to pay for their pleasures. He also allowed us to attend a film outside, but as they always showed nothing but propaganda, indicating that they were getting the upper
hand, it bore no comparison to the smuggled 大象传媒 information which we were told, whilst one of us was posted at the door just in case they should appear. This was very uplifting indeed towards the end.

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