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This story was submitted to the People’s War website by Julia Shuvalova on behalf of Mr Albert Edward Bracegirdle, and has been added to the site with his permission. The author is fully aware of the terms and conditions of the site.

I possessed a report to the Swiss Commission Protecting Power of the long forced march made by prisoners of Stalag Luft 7, Silesia. It was written by D C Howartson RAMC, Camp Medical Officer, and Pilot Officer Peter A Thomson, RAAF, Camp Leader.

The report states that it was 11 am on January 1945 that the prisoners received one hour’s notice to pack their kit and be ready to march out of the camp. It goes on: ‘We were informed that for everyone one man who fell out of the column on the march, five men would be shot.’

In fact the start was delayed for two days. The prisoners were marched out, little knowing that the ordeal would last for the next 21 days before arriving at another camp, Stalag 111A at Luckenwalde, 25 miles south of Berlin.

After three days marching in temperatures as low as -13ËšC, 23 men had vanished. It was not known whether they had been left behind or escaped. The guards said another 31, also missing, would have taken to Lamsdorf but no more was heard about that.

By 5 February they reached Goldberg and were put in rail cattle trucks an average of 55 to a truck. By this time there were numerous cases of dysentery and totally inadequate facilities for personal hygiene. The majority had no water for two days.

The report ended: ‘As a result of this march and the deplorable conditions the men are suffering from an extreme degree of malnutrition, an outbreak of dysentery, frostbite and other ailments’.

Whether anyone took notice of the Report is open to question.

Another chapter began in my gefang life. We were absolutely famished and it wasn’t until we got to our billets that we had our first food in two days….. We were given one cigarette each by British RAF Officers and it sure was welcome. I had my first shave for a month. It was really hard work taking my beard off.

It was still bitterly cold and there were no fires in the bullets. The representative of the Protecting Power was appalled by the conditions under which we had to exist and the quantity and quality of the food. He said he would lodge strong protests with the German authorities.

The following Sunday we had a visit from the German Red Cross representative who said he would try to get the rations increased. It may have been a coincidence but the potatoes and soup rations were cut from the day of his visit!

Albert continued to record day-by-day events at the camp and reached April when rumours swept the camp that Montgomery and the Americans and made gigantic strides towards Berlin and controlled half of Germany along the 800-mile front — and news came through of the death of President Roosevelt.

Three escape attempts were made at that time one resulting in the death of two RAF men who were spotted by guards and did not stop when called upon to do so. The other two attempts were made by Army men who got out of the camp but were speedily recaptured.

On April 20 it was reported that the Russian’s were only 20 miles away. On 21st we were aroused as usual by the bugle sounding. On getting outside we found no Jerries to take the parade. They had left the camp.

At 10am on April 22nd the expected Russian spearhead arrived… The prisoners almost went hysterical with joy. The Norwegian commanding the camp had a conference with the Russians and issued a statement saying that the Russians expected an early link-up with the Americans and until the Yanks arrived we were to remain in camp.

Before the Germans left they smashed the electricity and water supplies. One water pump had to supply about 5,000 men. It took me two and half hours to get one bucketful.

Three Frenchmen who were outside the camp disobeyed a Russian order and were immediately shot. The Russians refuse to acknowledge French and Italians as their Allies and refuse to supply them with rations.

Scraps of news continued to filter into the camp, that Hitler was dead, that Berlin had fallen, that Italy had been freed from the Nazis, and finally that the war in Europe was over and England had been celebrating.

But we still remain in Stalag 111A awaiting transport home. Most of the British are still here. About 1,000 Americans have been taken back West.

The Russians started being funny. It seems that was an unofficial evacuation and we have to wait while the Russian committee gives the order.

The next day 90 trucks arrived. We all piled on the lorries but the Russians, racing up on motor cycles, forcibly stopped us from leaving. On returning to our barracks we found the Italians and French ransacking the place.

I thought everyone would go wild with joy on Victory day but not a murmur of excitement prevailed in this camp. Everyone was too cheesed.

At last, on Sunday 20 May I and my fellow British ex-prisoners climbed aboard 100 trucks and left Stalag 111A behind, bound for an American camp, where, on May 25th, a fleet of 50 Dakotas arrived to take them to an American base near Brussels.

On climbing out of their Dekota, we were delighted to find a reception committee, complete with band, greeting them with clapping and cheering. There was a General in charge. As the group reached him he said ‘Belgian.’

On hearing we were English he stopped the bang and all the faces changed from smiles to sulks. It struck us as a huge joke.

Then it was to an RAF aerodrome where I and 24 others climbed into a Lancaster and were flown to Dunsford, Surrey. From thence I continued my journey by truck and train to Manchester, back home to my mother and father — and girlfriend, Marjorie, soon to be wife. My cup of happiness was full.

Among my souvenirs there is a German Dulag-Luft registration card dated 19.6.44 which includes a photograph of prisoner number 206 Luft7 and a fingerprint.

The story of the march was also documented by Russell Margerison — an air gunner POW at the same camp — in his book ‘Boys At War’, in which he used my diary as a documentary account.

I took the first step along the road to a POW camp in October 1940 when I volunteered for aircrew — but had to wait until July 1941 before commencing training and then qualifying as an air gunner. At first I was on Coastal Command duties in Whitleys, looking for U-boats, before joining 106 Squadron at Syerston. On completing a tour of operations I became an aircraft recognition instructor prior to joining 44 Rhodesia Squadron, flying Lancasters from Dunholme, near Lincoln.

Some of the ops were ‘rather hairy’, a Me 110 hitting my turret with a cannon shell, blinding me for a day, on one raid, and wrong engines being feathered after an engine fire on another.

But it was on raid number 18 that I descended into Germany. The Lancaster went out of control, having been hit by a Junkers 88 night fighter. The pilot Squadron Leader S Cockbain DFC, gave the ‘bale out’ order, and I and three others managed to get out at 17,000 feet before the aircraft went into a steep dive with four crew members on board.

I learned later that after losing 9,000 feet — the pilot — helped by flight engineer Pilot Officer W Faraday (later to become Flight Lieutenant DFC) got the bomber back under control and regained base.

I, having landed in a wood, discovered he had badly bruised my face and bums on my head. I set off walking for a while and then called at a house where I was given a drink of water. In no time flat I found himself in the local police station, was knocked about a bit by a 16-year-old member of the Hitler Youth Movement, and ended up in a cell. After interrogation and a spell of solitary confinement I eventually arrived at Stalag Luft 7 — and started writing my diary.

Primitive! During a Battle of Britain Memorial Flight video a Tornado pilot is shown admiring a Spitfire in its hanger and then climbing into the cockpit. His main comment as he sits in this famous fighter: ‘Goodness isn’t it primitive!’

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