大象传媒

It was just after the last war had ended and I was in Germany as part of the Allied Occupying Forces. Quite an exhilarating time as a young British Army officer, to find oneself still alive after all that carnage and with not much to do after the years of intense pressure but drink wine and laugh and be young again.
At the age I am now I might well have found life there and then very depressing, the German cities nothing but mounds of rubble in which somehow still dwelt the German civilians on their near starvation rations, with that food and coal there, shipped to the surrounding countries who had suffered invasion, occupation and privation earlier. Well, it was only fair wasn鈥檛 it?
But, there we were, lads who had never been so free- and never would again. Our principle job was to keep order, to back up the German police鈥檚 thin control and help restore social organisation. I suppose you could say that we were there as guard and nursemaid. Our main problem was the gangs of freed slave workers (displaced persons their official title) roaming the countryside. Very vicious they were with a thirst for revenge. We went out on patrol regularly to frighten them away onto someone else鈥檚 patch. They were some danger to us too.
What was a real danger though was a very small number of Germans who could not accept that the war was over and that they had lost. Often once members of the Hitler Youth Organisation and only recently drafted into their Forces, they had been deeply brainwashed into implacable hatred. For them it was impossible- literally impossible- to accept that Germany had lost her bid to rule all Europe.
In this situation their course of action was to continue the destruction that had been all our lots for five years, to kill by snipers bullet or saboteur鈥檚 bomb, or if that failed a knife between the ribs for any member of the Occupation Forces they could reach in the dark. Nasty characters.
My job in that pleasant country area where we were based was to lead patrols on wheels and if necessary on foot to keep this activity to a minimum, both for our own sake and that of the German civilians meekly scratching a living.
Then when off duty we would go 鈥榮wanning,鈥� driving at will across the countryside without care of obligation. Pure bliss when one is 23 years old!
I had gone swanning this particular day on my own, not far, taking a picnic and a book. I had found a pleasant spot a couple of miles outside 鈥榦ur town鈥� on the bank of a bright little river with shady trees and short, warm grass to lie on. I laid out the picnic- bread, cheese, some of the inevitable spam, fruitcake, a bottle of Rhine wine, biscuits and chocolate and fruit- quite a little feast!
I was about to start eating when I first heard and then saw someone approaching. Usually this meant nothing, a passing villager who would give one a 鈥済uten tag鈥� and then pass on. Nevertheless I loosened my revolver as a precaution as the figure moved slowly along the riverbank just below me.
As he came closer I saw that this was no D.P. [displaced person] or desperado. Instead I saw a thin young man with a decent open face and the scraps of German uniform tied around him His hair was longish in the manner that young Germans seemed to have adopted since the war ended. He limped from some leg injury. He paused to survey me, to assess the situation, and then gave me a 鈥淕ross Gott鈥� by way of greeting.
I noticed his eyes were fixed avidly on my little picnic as he passed and it seemed to me that this enemy lad of much my own age was starving. On an impulse I beckoned him closer. He moved two steps and then stopped again and I realised I still had my revolver out. I put it away and rose, beckoning him. This time he limped up without hesitation.
To read part two of this story please go to A8004881

This story was submitted to the People's War website by a volunteer of the Stoke CSV Action Desk on behalf of John Pound and was added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.