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This story, written by Tony Johnson in April 2004, is submitted to the People’s War site by a member of Market Harborough Branch, Royal British Legion on behalf of the author and has been added to the site with his permission. Mr Johnson fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

Kriegie Muckers:
Tales of My POW Companions

Flight Sergeant John AKEHURST DFM, aka Jake, an air gunner, was resting from 138 Squadron and an instructor at 11 OTU when, on the night of the l2/13th September 1942, his Wellington was shot down targeting Bremen. Ever ready to escape from his captors his first attempt was to take a flying kick at his Luftwaffe escort’s behind and jump off a moving train. He was soon recaptured and severely dealt with, being one of the first Air Force prisoners of war to be court martialled by the Luftwaffe. He had been confined in Stalag 8B and Stalag-Luft 3 (from which the Great Escape was made in 1944) before he walked into our barrack block at Stalag-Luft VI. In February 1945, John, escaped along with me and Sergeant Leslie Mitchell, but we became parted while evading the guards. He and Sergeant Leslie Mitchell were at large for three days, before being recaptured, and they finished their captivity at Stalag-Luft I before being ‘liberated’ by the Red Army in May. John became a publican after his demob from the RAF and, at the age of eighty-five years, he is alive and well residing at Peacehaven, Sussex.

Flight Sergeant Dennis John PAUL DFM, who prefers to be called Jack, was resting from 37 Squadron, and an instructor at 15 OTU at Harwell, Berkshire. He was shot down on the thousand bomber raid to Cologne on the 30th May 1942, and I joined him at Stalag-Luft I in April 1943. We became kriegie muckers (kriegie being the abbreviation from kriegsgefangen, or prisoner of war. Jack takes up the story:

"Returning and having bombed and devastated Koln during the early hours of Saturday, 31 May 1942, we were suddenly attacked by a Me 110 flown by Leutnant Nikias, with Unteroffizier Wenning as radar operator. I caused the Me 110 to overshoot allowing my front gunner to open fire - with negative result. My aircraft was badly damaged by cannon/machine gun fire; rear turret apparently u/s, together with the wireless set and intercom. Second and third attacks set the port engine and wing on fire and the inside of the aircraft became a shambles. I banged on the dividing bulkhead door to attract the navigator, and told him to release the front gunner and bail out. Disconnected my intercom and oxygen plugs and promptly lost consciousness. The Me 110 must have attacked again, and only the rear gunner managed to bale out. Unteroffizier Wenning stated in his debriefing report that my aircraft blew up just above a house in the Belgium village of Montigny-le-Tilleuf. I regained consciousness trapped in burning roof debris struck by part of my aircraft, the major part of which burned out on the opposite side of the road - and in it were the three other members of my crew.

"A door near me was suddenly opened and an old man, white haired, moustache and clad in a white nightshirt, stood illuminated by the flickering flames. In my confused state I thought he was St Peter at the back door of heaven. I called out ‘help’ but the old man, the owner of the house, turned and disappeared - scared stiff I guess! Pulling free, I crawled after him into a small front garden. I then passed out again. I came to being cradled in the arms of a woman speaking perfect English (she came from Wiltshire and was married to a Belgium engineer). ‘I’m home’ I said, only to hear her say ‘Be careful, the Germans will be here soon’. I lost consciousness again.

"I regained consciousness lying on a stretcher and being carried to an ambulance. Oblivion again: to come to lying in the corridor of the Hospital de Charleroi in the city of Charleroi. In the operating theatre all Germans were excluded by a diminutive authoritarian consultant, Doctor Louise Biernaux who, in front of all the theatre staff, gave me her prescription pad and, in English, said ‘Would you like to send a message home?’ (That took real courage on her part, and Joyce eventually received a photostat copy of the message). On that Sunday afternoon many Belgian people queued to enter my room, and I collected two tea chests filled with all kinds of liquor and food. The English-speaking woman, Madame Ruby Dondeyne, came to me with a note written on a cigarette paper from my rear gunner that said, ‘Baled out - am in good hands. Bunny’ He had landed in an apple tree (thereafter called ‘The Tommy Tree’), ran up the road to a cemetery and hid among the tombstones, later to be collected by members of the Resistance and, after thirteen weeks evading capture, he reached England via Belgium, France Spain and Gibraltar.

"My most serious injuries comprised four fractures to my right leg, which were set by a Doctor Soeur, and three days later I was transferred to a Luftwaffe Hospital in Brussels, where I remained until the 1st July 1942. I was then moved to Lazerett Hohemark, Oberusel, Germany, and subsequently to prisoners of war camps."

Postscript.
Leutnant Nikias shot down another Wellington aircraft that night after he had dealt with Jack’s aircraft; but was himself severely wounded in the second encounter when his machine was repeatedly hit, so much so the he belly flopped it just off his own runway. In 1943 he was killed in action while in defence of the Fatherland against attack by the 8th USAAF. Jack served with the Warwickshire Fire Service after his demob. Now eighty-two, he and Joyce reside at Coventry.

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