大象传媒

Darkest Hour

This account has been retyped from original documents handed to Cecil Horace Maycock鈥檚 son. The original documents on German ersatz paper were bound into book form many years ago, this book contains many photographs, sketches and church services from the various camps C.H Maycock and his comrades were incarcerated. I have copied without changing any content the exact text and notes.

Darkest Hour

An account on capture and captivity as experienced by C. Horace Maycock late Northamptonshire regiment

Ex Prisoner of War.

鈥淚 see not a step before me as I tread on another year; But I鈥檝e left the past in God鈥檚 keeping- the future his mercy shall clear; and what looks dark in the distance may brighten as I draw near.鈥�

Through the difficult days of captivity this verse was constantly before me, suggesting as it did a brighter path in the distance, to which the course of time- with faith, must ultimately lead me.
The full beauty of these words came to me at the close of my of my last hour of freedom; which like time does ,ticked unconsciously away-and I, completely unaware that at the stroke of twelve, 鈥淟iberty鈥� like the glory of Cinderella should vanish entirely.

At the stroke of twelve- midnight, the end of the day and the beginning of another, but this was no ordinary day dawning, for indeed it was Christmas morning 1942 being ushered in beneath Tunisian skies- and where was I . It so happened the Northamptonshire Regiment, with other regiments were to put in a Christmas eve attack against the Germans. The 5th Northampton鈥檚 to which I belonged had been allotted the course through the hills, and after 48 hours strenuous trek, in which 36 mules had died in one night , from exhaustion, we eventually arrived at our objective 15 miles from Tunis, a place named Tabourba. We had lost our only wireless set during the rough journey. It had fallen of a mule and was damaged on the rocks. Consequently we did not know that this particular attach had been cancelled or that the Northampton鈥檚 in ignorance of this were marching on alone to attach the enemy six miles inside his own lines. With the deaths of 36 or more mules the short supplies of food being carried for us by these animals, were abandoned in order to allow ammunition to be on the backs of the remaining mules. This task through rough winding paths, over rocky hills was indeed difficult in itself to accomplish. Therefore by the time we reached our objective both men and mules were already tired and hungry. However, positions were taken up by the battalion. My company which was 鈥楢鈥� company, was forward position, occupying a few rocks or boulders facing the enemy a field distant, who were firmly consolidated at the top of a hill, whilst our battalion headquarters were in position at the opposite end of the field occupied by 鈥楢鈥� company 鈥橞鈥�, 鈥楥鈥�, 鈥楧鈥� and Headquarters companies were situated elsewhere on our flanks and in the rear respectively.

Action commenced around 7:30 to 8:00pm. It was now already growing dark, neither side advanced but kept up a steady volume of fire against the others positions which continued until nearly midnight.

Just before midnight I was called to by the commanding officer at battalion headquarters, where I was at that time, and given instructions to proceed to my own company whom I had left earlier in the forward position.

I was to fetch my company commander who was to report to the commanding officer on the present situation. I proceeded to cover the fields distance to 鈥楢鈥� company lines. Darkness had completely descended- the only light being the glowing red trails left by the tracer bullets of the enemy as they successively poured across into our lines. It had rained heavily for some time and I could only proceed but slowly as my feet sunk into the ploughed, boggy earth. At length without incident I reached the rocks that were 鈥楢鈥� company鈥檚 position. A strange stillness enveloped the atmosphere. I could hear no sound, I could see nothing. I wondered if I had come to the right place, perhaps I had wandered in the darkness, and yet as my eyes grew accustomed to the blackness of the night I knew there was no mistake. I could still see no sign of life and so I spoke two words softly in the darkness- my company commanders name. Two words, but they were enough. Imagine the sensation I received when, whilst expecting my comrades, the answer came in German. Like all mortals in danger, instinctively my thoughts reflected the words 鈥淢y God鈥� as I immediate flung myself flat to the ground only to discern to my greater horror a sentry鈥檚 rifle pointing at my head some 5 paces away from the other side of a boulder which separated us. It seemed ages before I could collect my thoughts. I visualised many happy scenes past and wondered if I should see another Christmas at home. I prayed for deliverance until I could no longer bear the strain of that gun staring me in the eyes. Then I prayed for at least a speedy release, in death, from this prevailing suspense. Neither came to me, but wait!! For as suddenly as it appeared, the sentry and the gun had vanished. I thought after all I was unobserved could it have been an hallucination caused by the strain of events. But lo! It was not so only too realistic, for from behind approached three other armed soldiers. I knew my rifle wouldn鈥檛 fire, but with a miracle. How could one expect it to having been soaked in rain for 48 hours with no attention its bolt creaked more like a prison gate than part of a weapon of defence. Even whilst I was thinking of a way out I saw quite close to me the dead body of an English soldier and in that instant the truth way revealed. I knew then that the Northampton鈥檚 had been driven from this position which was now occupied by Germans, a thousand thoughts raced through my mind. There seemed no way out alive so why not pretend to be dead. I immediately tucked close to our dead comrade, who even in death gave me comfort, for he was English. It didn鈥檛 work, how could it? Remember, however one may suffer from the cold sweat, a living person is never so cold as the tomb. Too bad it dint work for there was no time to have done more. So great the contrast between the living and the dead, indeed it must have been obvious between we two English comrades lying together behind the rocks of Tunisia alone that dark night. Equally as obvious as the ugly fact dawned upon myself that as Christmas morning, 1942 was being ushered in, so to was my 鈥渓iberty鈥� blotted out and 鈥淧eace and goodwill鈥� were far removed from me for some time to come. So like a cloud the 鈥淒arkest Hour鈥� descended as I was bourn away into the wilderness.

Part Two
Sojourn in the wilderness
It is difficult to convey the true meaning which the loss of liberty brings to one. Those who have experienced it can fully understand the complete revolution involved as a name becomes a number, and the man a machine. It is not easy to adapt oneself to a mechanical atmosphere that has been inflicted upon one, to be thrust suddenly into a world which at first sight appears devoid of any understanding of human rights and feelings. I say at first sight because the initial contact with anything revolting is distasteful, however after a time whatever conditions be imposed upon us we eventually become accustomed to those circumstances and steel ourselves at the best to tolerate them. Thus it was in the prison camps in which I for better or for worse was a member, the conditions were contrary to men鈥檚 desires but that attribute of forbearance found in the English, prevailed over all adversities and no matter how dark the future loomed in the distance the present was often brightened with the spirit of good cheer. Becoming to the strong hearted who even in the 鈥淒arkest Hour鈥� could still impart it.

PG 98

PG 98 was a camp at Palermo, Sicily. A few tents encompassed by barbed wire, leaving about 100 yards as a walking space, was deemed fit to house 500 prisoners. Enormous cliffs blotted out the sun which could be seen shining beyond the camp, whilst some 30 or more armed guards surrounded the area as an ever present reminder that we within the fold might not question the destiny which had brought us hither.

Sanitary arrangements were inadequate, Red Cross supplies unheard of, bedding, one blanket to cover the bed boards, food, if that is what one call half a dozen pieces of macaroni that wriggled like worms upon an all clear soup., and bread when the baker called made a second course. The portion of dead Oxen or Cheese when available 鈥渟hort鈥� in stature, in manner 鈥淗igh鈥�, could hardly be mentioned in the same menu as a good meal. of course we never expected a banquet and we could always talk of eggs and bacon and plum puddings and imagine that we had had them although I wouldn鈥檛 recommend this method as a guide to cheap living because I cannot say that I felt ant better after a fictitious meal, actually must worse, but then it was the chief topic naturally, except for the on other 鈥淒eath Needle鈥�. You see we feared to become ill, it was understood that patients entering the infirmary if likely to require much attention were injected and disposed of by the 鈥淒eath Needle鈥� which needs no further comment.
Fortunately after six weeks we were moved to PG 70 below Rome, Italy. And we fared much better here on the whole.
Red Cross Food parcels were received farley regularly and this gave us something to do to cook our food. Which we managed to do by use of our 鈥渋ndividual stoves鈥� a small fireplace made from the tins received in the Red Cross Parcel. Cups, Plates, Knives, pot & Pans were manufactured by the prisoners in improvising for their own use and convenience. When I say that at one time Camp 70 held as many as 10,000 men you will imagine what the recreation ground looked like when cooking was in progress with little tin stoves glowing away like fairy lights, and when fuel was scarce so like the old cries of London rang out the call of the camp 鈥� Any Embers鈥� 鈥淎ny Embers鈥�. Many were the diets and dishes produced from the food parcel one in particular being 鈥淪ardines with Raisons and Jam鈥�

The greatest danger in captivity lies in inactiveness which throws a mental strain upon the mind and gives place to self pity causing a defeatist attitude and a weakling of the will to resist.
Whereby one might be overwhelmed by the weight of adverse conditions and to be crushed beneath they and as in some cases entirely lost from this life below. It was therefore a great blessing to the camp to see in due course certain organisations springing to life and indeed by the time of the Italian collapse we found Camp 70 running like a young town in itself with its Sports Club- Discussion Groups- Concert parties and above all its Churches.
Wesleyan 鈥擟hurch of England and Roman Catholic. And indeed when difficult times lay upon us they proved themselves leaders of the lost flock. It must be proudly written of the Wesleyan Padre Douglas Thomson a former missionary in China who in cooperation with the Church of England Padre did much towards the progress of our churches and the maintenance of high morale among the captives of Camp 70.

On the 8th September 1943 Italy collapsed and the prisoners looked eagerly to their home coming. However freedom was short lived, and after 9 days liberty which had appeared like a brief heaver on earth. The camp was one morning, the 17th September 1943 again surrounded by guards. German guards replaced the Italians and for the second time we faced a bleak future empty except of hope. For hope was all we had left. Captivity is bad in itself but having survived and regained freedom only to loose it again to be trust back into the wilderness, left a wound which took long to heal.

It took 5 days to travel to Germany through the Brenner Pass and Austria, 5 days herded into cattle trucks, capacity 50 men with one small grating at the top for ventilation. Only twice in that 5 days were we allowed to alight from the trucks you can visualise the state of things as we jogged along in those dismal square wheeled wagons. Perhaps standing in a siding all night because of an air raid, without lights and bitterly cold.

Cramp in the legs but you couldn鈥檛 move, someone had taken them for a pillow. In fact it was difficult to find your own legs amongst hundreds of others.

鈥淪o like a human octopus appeared we, as entangled in a web of limbs we jostled along towards the Fatherland鈥�

It was a great relief when the train halted and we were able to extricate ourselves from beneath the mass of human cargo aboard. We were then taken for registration and as soon as possible despatched in groups to various working camps.
I became a member of a small party of sixty men sent to work on the German Railway in Saxon. We commenced work on 1st November 1943. we were given a pick and shovel, known in Germany as Pickle & Garbel and with these had to hammer stones under the sleepers on the line.
A most monotonous occupation except when for spite we would hammer half a brick under and watch the bosses face when he said we had put a bugle (meaning a bump) in the line.

Where as in the past I had taken no definite lead in the camp organisation, as Christmas 1943 approached I was called to form the First Movement in this new and small community in the founding of a church.

The 62 members of our camp, Lager 4F, were billeted in one large room and there were no immediate facilities to aid the commencement of a church. We possessed between us 3 ancient and modern hymn books , but what were these among so many.
The first service of the Church took place on Christmas Morning 1943, before a rough wooden cross. The carols I had chalked on to a sheet of black out paper whilst one violin provided the music for the singing. I intended to continue services each Sunday, but circumstances which weren鈥檛 to good prevented this until Easter day 1944 when my second attempt took place in the form of a service of evensong during a radio review. A concert given by some of the boys. I chose the last number on the programme for the church and indeed so impressive was the result that the way was opened up to further my cause and it was on the 7th may 1944 that supported by a choir and orchestra my third and successful attempt to found the church took place and from that day we progressed weekly into an active permanent church.

An altar was introduced and although at first we were only able to present it with a wooden cross within 2 months were added, Flower vases, and two altar lights, and in July 1944 I was happy to announce a gift to the church in the most artistic form a portrait of Saint Leonard 鈥淭he Prisoners Saint鈥�. Given and painted by a fellow prisoner. This was erected in the centre over the cross making the altar worthy of its place in the church.

It seemed rather a tragedy for the church, when it was announced that on 8th September 1944the camp was destined to move from its country spot into the town of Reichenbach nearer Leipzig. The altar I could not take with me on the train but I did manage to covey the altar and furnishing to the new camp so that upon arrival I was fortunately not entirely destitute in my efforts to reform my church.

The new camp was divided into three separate sleeping rooms. Accommodating twenty men in each, whilst the fourth room was used for locking up our boots and trousers which were taken from us each night. You will imagine the scuffles which often ensued when an air raid alarm was given and each man trying to find his own boots or tearing the trousers from some one else who had stepped into the wrong pair.
However I found a great use for this room and it wasn鈥檛 long before I had commandeered the front wall and erected a new and permanent altar which stood a living witness of our faith and hope.

It wasn鈥檛 long before a third altar light was introduced which to assist us in remembering the order of the churches year was burned only to signify Saints days and festivals. As Christmas 1944 approached I was very fortunate to receive the gift of twenty hymn books from the Salvation Army Captain and in answer to a letter I had sent to Muhlberg I received a further 15 hymn books with music from the Padre I had known in Italy and these proved a great asset in assisting me in the Christmas festival now at hand.
A whole year had passed since I first founded the church I could not help but compare it as it was on Christmas morning 1943 as we stood before that black out paper and rough wooden cross and tonight Christmas eve 1944 as we stood before our now completely furnished altar with its four altar lights and new cross trimmed in silver paper to match the altar covers edged with blue and white whilst the newly acquired sanctuary lamp cast its red glow aloft as the white light lit from the altar candles revealed the silver star of Bethlehem displayed over the portrait of the Saint of our church, Saint Leonard, and on the scroll over the altar stood out clearly the words 鈥� Let us now go even unto Bethlehem 鈥� and as the orchestra ended the playing of our National Anthem the Altar which until now been illuminated only by the light of the candles was flooded with light as the call to Bethlehem rang out in that triumphant carol 鈥淥 Come all Ye Faithful鈥� and the most impressive service of our camp church began at 10pm continuing without interruption until 11:30pm. So shall those present ever remember that Christmas eve 1944 as we though scattered abroad united with the family in celebration that great festival of peace.

Our church was the only prisoner鈥檚 church in our district and received visits form several Germans who came in genuine interest and respect to view the 鈥淟ager Church of St Leonard鈥� Reichenbach in Saxony

With the passing of Christmas 1944 circumstances grew extremely and rapidly worse. Air raids continued on a large scale by day and by night food was so short that after working come 16 hours and more we returned home to a meal of three potatoes.

We could not expect to continue many months under such conditions, and as the time passed by air raids were so frequent as to make the work on the railways almost impossible. But the allied armies are fast approaching as town after town falls before them and at last on 16th April 1945 they stood before the gates of Reichenbach and so began for us the last battle. Shelling and dive bombing overcame the town although during the night of the 16th the shelling fell so close to us that we wondered even then whether we should survive at the eleventh hour.

However at 6:30pm April 17th 1945 an American in a jeep drove up to the camp and informed us our 鈥淪ojourn in the wilderness鈥� had come an end

Two years four months had passed since the darkest hour descended around the rocks of Tunisia at midnight that Christmas eve and I could not help thinking of that as with the dawn of April 20th 1945 we journeyed forth through the ruined streets of Reichenbach into the glorious liberty which belongs not merely to the captives, but is truly the heritage of all the peoples of the world.

Notes to the Editors.

The Picture of St Leonard was produced by Len Manser, the Cross and candlesticks by Bob Lynnon.

I also have the church service for the memorial services of the Late George Duncan ( Dunk) who ran the Lager newspaper. And many more photographs of groups and funerals. Also many of the services conducted if any one is interested.

Mike Maycock

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