大象传媒

Chapter 5
I never thought I would return to Czechoslovakia, Poland or any of the places I had been during the war. That area all went over to Russia and the Communists and I thought many times that life must be hard for the people while we in Britain were getting back to normal and had a decent standard of living. However, 20 years after the war in 1960 I did go back.

Joyce and I were visiting a friend in Vienna and looking at a map I wondered if I could find my way over to Lager E119. I knew that if I could get to Marie Ostrau (now Ostrava), the nearest big industrial town, it should be possible to find Mankendorf.

Our Viennese friends thought it was mad and dangerous to go across into territory behind the iron curtain but I felt I had to do it. We set out by train from Vienna and eventually got to Ostrava. The problem was I was asking people for names of places I had known in German, not realising that the Czechs had changed them all back to Czech names. Then I came across a very old man who was willing to speak to me in German and he knew the places I was looking for. We took the train back to Suchdol and changed to go to Odry.

Now I was beginning to get my bearings. When we arrived at Suchdol we had to get a local train. It was very hot and a lady sitting on a train by an open window spoke to us on the platform, asking if we were English? We said we were and told her we had come to visit the POW lager in Mankendorf. She said this train would take us there. There were no hotels in that village but when we had seen what we wanted, if we got the train to the next village, which was Odry, we could stay at her house. She said her husband had worked with the British prisoners at the factory during the war and he would be interested to meet us.

Mankendorf was now called Mancovice. I recognized it immediately. It had hardly changed. Set on an open Slavic plain with mountains beyond were half a dozen houses, a church, a village green and the timber factory, backing on to the railway.

I showed Joyce the house we had built and also the factory. Of course the Germans had gone and were in a new factory in East Germany. The lager was still there, locked up. An old lady opened it up for us and we went in and had a look. The old copper and wooden baths were still there and the wire round the outside. I showed Joyce the bunks that Bluey and I used to sleep on and the tables and fire were just as we had left it all.

When we got to Odry I knew exactly where I was. We met the lady from the train and she told us her name was Herta. In her house we met her family. Her husband Leo came in from work and we started to talk to each other. A little time went by then it suddenly dawned on Leo who I was. He struggled to find the few English words he had learnt from POWs and burst out,
鈥淏ill! You bloody bastard!鈥� with a big grin on his face.
So we stayed with them and the word went round the two villages. Many of the men I had known took the next day off and we all met up in a barn for the 鈥淢ankendorf Conference鈥� where we shared our memories and drank a lot.

We also met Herta鈥檚 father and found out her story. Although he was a German, Herta鈥檚 father had been a leader in the Odrau partisans. He was put into a concentration camp that was liberated by British Forces after the war. Herta and her mother were in a different concentration camp at Novyjicin and there Herta passed by her mother without recognising her, she had been tortured and suffered terribly and in the end Herta believes she was executed just a few days before the end of the war. Herta herself was involved in the partisans and the escape route. These people risked everything and many died.

Once we had made the contact we remained friends. Leo and his son Peter came to England and stayed with us, but Herta and her daughter were not allowed to travel. Husbands and wives could not travel out of the country together under the communist regime and we had to meet their expenses because they could not bring any money out of the country.

We visited several times once our friendship had been established. Leo and Herta took us back to the mountains Mala Fatra and the Bedskids, along the old trails.

I also went back to Zakopani on a visit to Poland, we were looked after by the Polish partisans from Opelan. They escorted us everywhere. When we got to Zakopani I had already phoned Leo and Herta and they came and visited us. We had taken a certificate for Herta and her Father which was read out and one of the British party presented Herta with a silver chain. The partisans paid their expenses.

Leo died a few years ago but we always receive a Christmas card from Czechoslovakia in English asking when they will see us again.

After the war I tried to get help for those who had helped us but the Foreign Office said nothing could be done to help them because they were not wearing British Uniform. It seems such a shame that those who had risked their lives ended up with so little. I went to the RAF escape Committee at the Duke of York鈥檚 HQ Chelsea to trace the escape route but they denied it existed. Only a couple of years ago I had an address in Brompton Road I contacted but they replied saying they had disbanded and had no knowledge. Official sources are still very secretive and don鈥檛 want to give information. I wonder how many people owe their lives to a few brave people who ended up trapped in a Communist state.

In 1993 I was thrilled to get a letter from the displaced lad who had worked with us on the house next to the lager 50 years before! We kept in contact and the week of the VE Day celebrations in 1995 I met him and his wife at a London Hotel on a brief visit. We recognised each other but it was a short meeting and we wish we had had more time. They gave Joyce and I a beautiful crystal bowl which we treasure and a few years after we were able to visit them at their home north of Prague, with our older daughter and her husband.

In 2001 (when I was already in my 80鈥檚) I managed to get hold of my POW records. Everything is there except I was never recorded as liberated, but there is a photograph, fingerprints and information about my working parties.

I am now in contact with POW connections in New Zealand and received a book last year written by a New Zealander escapee. In this book Getaway by Gordon Woodroof MM printed by Publicity Printing Limited, Taurangh, New Zealand, he says he was told in Stalag 8B that if he got a chance to escape he was to head for Mankendorf where there was an escape route operating.

I have been back many times to Czechoslovakia the last time was in April 2002, when we went to Prague with my youngest daughter and her husband. Our original intention was to try and find that hotel where we stayed on the night before the Russians arrived in Prague. The three of us, Bluey, the American and I had signed our names in the huge old hotel register. I had hoped we might discover the hotel but that corner of Prague, behind Wenceslas Square and the big church, appeared to have been one of the few areas that had been updated after the war and I think the streets must be different. We had no luck. I would still like to see an old map to satisfy myself where I think it must have been. I also wish I could meet the American again. I don鈥檛 even remember his name.

We hired a car and made a brief visit to Odry and Mancovice. I was able to show them the old factory and this time it was deserted. As we walked through the open gates memories came flooding back. I could once again smell the oak and beech being unloaded and hear the saws and activity of men making wheels and sledges. There had been 60 men in those days.

Along the road in the churchyard lie people I remember and their faces came back to me as we walked round in the spring sunshine. Destiny brought me to this little place during the war and it has left an impression I will carry all my life. I feel linked with it.

We walked down to where the lager still stands. I could imagine faces round the table as bread was divided among us. It was a serious business to see we all got equal shares. Someone had to stir the soup continuously so that the vegetables and occasional meagre helping of meat would be evenly distributed.

A Russian lady now lives in part of the old lager. One of the highlights of our visit was when she invited us in to show us how it had been converted into a very comfortable and spacious home. Upstairs is only used for storage and remains much as I remember it. Looking across towards the dome of church the landscape was like something in Dr. Zhivago. I recalled watching the seasons go round from this window; thick snow and bitter winds of Winter and the cold earth slowly coming alive in Summer. As a rare treat we were allowed to swim in the river in the heat of summer. So long ago yet still so fresh in my mind.

We stood in front of the house my comrades and I had built when our future lay uncertain before us. The years rolled away as I remembered.

With the collapse of Communism the Czech Republic has a fresh start and is looking forward to being part of Europe. People are anxious to catch up with progress and opportunities offered by the European Community. We remember a time when shops in Prague had empty shelves and it is nice to see life is easier now for the Czechs. Nobody wants to remember the war. When you mention it they say
鈥淲e have move on since then鈥�. There is a noticeable reluctance to talk about the bad old times.

Herta is fail and suffering with ill health these days but we are always overwhelmed by affection and hospitality when we visit Odry. Their son Peter reminded us of his trip to England in 1965 when he was 16. It left a big impression on him. He remembered us buying him his first pair of jeans and brought out a treasured box of mementoes including bus tickets and tickets to the Tower of London and Hampton Court. Herta鈥檚 grandson, David has dreadlocks and in perfect English speaks of his passion for ecology and saving the planet. He is educated and has travelled to places his grandparents could only imagine. He has a lot in common with my own grandchildren. We were impressed by the courtesy of young people everywhere we went. It is refreshing to see the elderly and women automatically offered a seat on the underground, buses and trams.

Herta is surrounded by loving family and treated with great respect. As they gathered to see us off she hugged my daughter and said,
鈥淲e old ones have lived through some terrible times yet we have found a special friendship. Now we pass it on to you and the next generation to carry on and keep up the link between our families鈥�.

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