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No. 6289955, the Buffs

I joined the 1st Battalion of the Buffs on 15 February 1940. My number was 6289955.

In 1941, I was captured at Galzara [sic], near Tobruk. We were in the desert, surrounded for three to four days with no food or water. At 4pm one evening, the German tanks arrived and took us all prisoner.

Desert march

We had to march across the desert all night, until one of our majors went to the German officer at the head of the column and told him we would go no further until we had transport, food and water. He also demanded to speak to General Rommel.

Eventually, Rommel arrived in his staff car, dressed in his big leather coat. Through an interpreter he informed us that if we were to move on a little further we’d find a water point. We arrived there to find so many troops that it wasn’t possible to get anywhere near the water, and we had to resort to drinking from puddles.

Transported to Durna

We were transported to the port of Durna, where we spent the night on the beach. The next day we went on to Benghazi and stayed there for two days in a prison camp.

The guards were suddenly withdrawn, because the British were coming. They had left open the stores, so some of us went in search of food and drink. I found a bottle of lime juice, which would come in handy later.

Holed up

The Italians organised our evacuation to the docks. The boat we were to board was not ready, so they put us into a bombed-out cinema for the night.

The boat was bombed that night, though damaged only slightly. In the morning we were transferred to the hold and not allowed to go up on top at all. Our toilet was a tub. Many of the men had dysentery, so the stench can only be imagined.

My map of Italy

Around the hold’s sides were a balcony and assorted doors. Behind one of the doors I found a cupboard full of maps of Italy. I took one of the maps and hid it in a hole in the lining of my coat.

The map remained there for the duration of my time as a prisoner of war. During that period, several copies of it were made to help those who were planning to escape.

Macaroni with lime juice

We found sacks of macaroni in the hold and a wall-mounted electric fire. The macaroni we crushed up and mixed with the lime juice I had stolen from the stores at the previous camp. The fire, which we took off the wall and laid flat on the floor, served as stove, on which we cooked and ate this unlikely mixture on the way to Tripoli.

Just outside the harbour at Tripoli, where we disembarked, we passed a destroyed Red Cross boat. Once we’d landed, we were loaded on to a goods-wagon train. There were so many of us we could not sit down, only stand.

We were taken to the foot of the mountains, from where we had to walk up hill to a very large hangar, in which we spent Christmas Eve. The hangar was so over crowded that there wasn’t room to move. If you lay down you had to remain there or you lost your place.

A lemon and a bread roll for Christmas dinner

Christmas day was the first time in four days that we were given food. Our rations, a small roll and a lemon, had to last all day. We were there for another five days before being shipped to Naples.

It was January, and the snow was 45cms (18 inches) deep. We were billeted under canvas, our tents made from the Italians’ ground sheets. Our camp was behind a fence, three meters (ten foot) high, with another fence, a tripwire, beyond it. We were informed that anyone found trying to cross either of these barriers would be shot.

Brewing tea

We were in Naples for a week or so. It was there that we received our first ever Red Cross parcel of tea, coffee, biscuits, 50 cigarettes, raisins and chocolate. We used the empty food tins to brew tea. Afterwards, we’d dry out the leaves and put them back in the packets with a little of the good tea on the top and seal them. We used them as barter with the guards for rolls and loaves of bread.

On arrival at camp we had been given Italian mess tins and aluminium spoons. Our rations were two ladles of rice a day. Later they took away the utensils and mess tins and issued us with earthenware pots. We were informed that we were now on half rations.

We were subsequently transferred to camp 59, travelling, once again, by goods wagon, this time to Port St George. We stayed in stables full of bugs and lice for some considerable length of time.

Moved to Mazarata

We were moved to Mazarata, a big camp with thousands of prisoners. There were 1,000 men to a hut, each furnished with three-tier, straw-mattress bunk beds. There were no table or chairs. The toilet was a hole in the ground at the end of each hut, and there was one cold water tap per hut.

From here I was sent to a working camp on a farm. We would go out, every day, haymaking. The huts here only held 50 people. Our food ration for the day was one ladle of rice. Sometimes we were lucky to receive a Red Cross parcel, which usually contained soap. To the Italian guards, soap was gold, so we swapped a bar for about 3kg (7lb) of potatoes. Unlike some of the other camps, we had no sports facilities or music.

When the Germans retook Tobruk, speakers were erected around the camp, and we got German music and Italian news. When the British took back Tobruk, everything was taken away again.

On the run

Toward the end of the Italian war, the guards became very slack in the conduct of their duties, and one night eight of us were able to break out under the fence. We hid first in a maize field and then kept to the lanes as much as we could. Out walking on one occasion, we encountered a convoy of Germans. Fortunately, we managed to run and take cover under the bridge over which they were crossing.

When it was safe we just continued walking until we came to a village. It was very early in the morning, and we thought we might pass through unnoticed. How wrong we were. Sitting on a wall was a rather retarded young man who proceeded to shout, ‘Germans’ at the top of his voice. We knew his yells would attract the whole village, so we hightailed out of there and hid in an allotment shed.

From inside the shed, we could hear a cacophony of voices. It was obviously the village people who were out looking for us. Thankfully, all of a sudden, it started to rain very hard, and they all disappeared. Once again we got out of there as fast as our legs would carry us.

Yodelling in the mountains

In the course of our journey we’d hear yodelling in the mountains above us. It turned out to be people informing each other of our position. At some point further along, we found ourselves suddenly surrounded by Italians. Clad in civilian clothing, they turned out to be partisans. They were immensely helpful and advised us on the best route to take to safety.

By now we were now dressed in civilian clothes, supplied to us by the partisans. Our neutral clothing enabled us to go into the small town of Domodossola. There, at a bus stop, a man approached us, speaking English. He took us by bus to his house in the mountains, where we were able to stay the night. To this day I still have the bus ticket for that journey.

Destination Switzerland

Next morning we climbed the mountains, aiming for Switzerland. The man who had befriended us took us halfway up then gave us a map and left us to our own devices. We crossed the mountain range, without ropes, hanging on to tufts of grass and each other’s backsides.

At one point, out of the blue, a large black cloud descended and completely enveloped the mountain. We could see nothing. It went as fast as it had appeared, and when it did so, to our great relief, we found ourselves just a few yards from a hut. We managed to get inside and found candles and matches. Just outside, there was a stream from which we could drink.

Following sheep trails

The next morning we were able to find our way down the mountain to Switzerland by way of a sheep trail. At the foot, we were met by Swiss border guards. We had to stand with our hands up, in a gesture of surrender, until they were able to establish our nationality.

Once they’d confirmed that we were English, they gave us food and drink, and took us to a transit camp in Sirnach. The camp had no beds and only straw to lie on.

Word came though that there were hotel vacancies in Adelboden. They would take in internees for a month’s convalescence. I was fortunate enough to be picked to go.

Skating in Switzerland

In Adelboden there were no sports facilities, apart from an ice rink, which was out of bounds to military personnel. I approached the man in charge of the rink and asked him where I might find a place to create a rink for the troops. He suggested I ask one of the hotels if we could adapt their tennis courts.

I got one of the hotels to agree to this, and the man from the rink came to give us a hand to make a new rink. We fine sprayed water over the courts four or five times a night for several nights before the rink was ready for skating. The government supplied the skates, and I was put in charge. The rink proved very successful.

Ice shows for the troops

We put on a number of ice shows for the troops. I had been a roller skater for many years. Before the war, in my home town, I’d even given roller displays with my partner. Consequently, I found skating on ice relatively easy to pick up, and I quite often took part in the ice shows. I also learnt to ski and was lucky enough to pass my silver medal.

With my one month’s stay about to come to a close, in the hotel one day I happened to notice an advert for professional-improvement courses. I put myself down for the printing course, because that had been my trade before the war. My application was accepted, and I was sent back to Sirnach to do the course.

Newspaper enterprise

One day, a Colonel Desmond Young approached me and announced, to my great surprise, that he was going to start up a newspaper for internees. He wanted me to join him to supervise production of the paper in a Swiss printing works.

The newspaper was a great success. Many Swiss manufacturers, keen to show that they were pro-British, queued up to advertise in it. The civilian population started to take an interest too and wanted to buy it. When the Swiss government got to hear of this they promptly closed us down.

After lengthy discussions, however, they agreed finally to let us start up the presses again, on condition that we did not supply papers to civilians.

Marking time

When the Swiss border was re-opened, and the British troops arrived, we began to get ready for repatriation to the UK. Colonel Young gave us a farewell dinner and presented us all with a copy of all the papers we had printed, which he had made into a book entitled Marking Time. I still have the book to this day. Later, Colonel Young went on to write his very successfulRommel: Desert Fox.

I was repatriated to England. After six weeks’ leave I was sent to Canterbury to retrain. Once they discovered I had already been abroad, however, they gave me a staff job, in which I remained until war ended not long afterwards.

By Harry Rogers

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