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PRISONER OF WAR FOR A DAY

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by John Hughes, a volunteer from Three Counties Radio, on behalf of his father in law, Ken Derrick, and has been added to the site with his permission. Ken fully understands the terms and conditions of the site.

I remember a place in the Western Desert called the Hill of Jesus, just before El Alamein. We were the original Desert Rats. We’d been pushed back by Rommel’s Afrika Korps. An Australian group had been cut off in the withdrawal and were desperately short of ammunition. We in the 44th Battalion, Royal Tank Regiment, were greatly reduced in numbers, having suffered heavy losses; however, two of our remaining tanks were detailed, with scratch crews of three, to take .303 ammunition to the beleaguered Australians. Mine was one of them. I was 21 years old. Our driver was 19 years old and fresh from England. We set off at first light and got about five miles when, on surmounting a ridge, we were caught by an 88mm. gun. These were designed as anti-aircraft weapons but the barrel could be lowered to fire horizontally. The enormous muzzle velocity of its shells made it a very effective anti-tank weapon against which there was little or no defence. Our accompanying tank blew apart and all in her died instantly.

Our own tank started to burn and we got out quickly. Our third man was wounded. We were taken prisoner by an Afrika Korps officer. He spoke perfect English and warned us that his Italian allies were jumpy and might be quick to open fire if anything untoward happened. We were put in a gun pit for the night, being told we would be sent to a PoW camp next day.

Next day dawned and we knew something was up. But as the heat intensified, the young driver became delirious. The Italians were getting more nervous and the German officer warned us to keep our lad quiet or he was likely to be shot — although we knew that was never his intention. In the afternoon, two Italian soldiers took all our personal possessions; photos, letters, pay books and wallets. I mentioned this to the officer when he visited us later. He said he would deal with it and shortly afterwards, we heard two shots and all our things were brought back to us by a very nervous Italian soldier. We can only guess at what happened, maybe nothing more than warning shots.

Then an artillery barrage started from our lines and we became worried about friendly fire. It would be bitterly ironic to be killed by our own comrades. However, our German friend said we had to stay where we were as there was no transport to take us to the enemy rear. Night fell, with the almost instant darkness of the end of a desert day. We decided to make a run for it and all three of us climbed out of the gun pit and headed for the Allied lines. We were not challenged and my crew mates did well to overcome the effects of their wounds and delirium. Soon we heard tanks; the Australians were counter-attacking to relieve their trapped fellows. By chance, I recognised one of the tank crew, who said our own tanks were lined up, resting, further back. The accompanying Australian infantry told us we should move to the rear.

We did. My fellow crew members were sent to field hospital, the young driver suffering from shell-shock. I found that I’d been posted as missing. This news got back home and caused much anxiety there until later, happier, developments were reported. I felt much better when I was given ten shillings (50p) and told to join my squadron mates in Alexandria. The QSM, Bill Thomas, provided his jeep to get me there. Bill was one of the many good men I knew during the war. He was a veteran of the Great War and was going through it all again. Sadly, he died of cancer, on active service, but I’ll always remember him kindly.

My mates were as glad to see me as I was to see them. Everybody had thought I was dead and we celebrated my short career as a PoW and my return to life.

As a postscript, I found out later that the surrounded Australians had fought on and pushed the Axis forces back. Talking to one of them, another veteran from the Great War, he said they had sorted out the enemy by bayonet as they had no ammunition left. I wondered what had been the fate of the Afrika Korps officer who did his duty in a civilised and courteous manner and treated his enemy with respect and humanity. Even in war, there was a code of decency which many followed in very difficult circumstances.

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