大象传媒

Christmas Day, 1944, came and was spent much the same way as most other days apart from the evening when a few of the lads got together to sing a few carols. It seemed ironic however at this time of peace and goodwill to all men as we sang 鈥楽ilent Night鈥�, that the background accompaniment was the ominous drone of the heavy bombers as they carried on relentlessly. Our thoughts at this time naturally turned towards home, our families and friends, wondering how they would be celebrating Christmas. I reflected on past Christmas days with the huge tree in the living room studded with beautiful decorations and gaily-coloured lights with presents stacked neatly at the foot of the tree; a sumptuous spread laid out with carol singing around the fireside later. Even now all over Britain, rules and regulations were being bent at the different camps and air stations wherever possible to make Christmas Day a truly wonderful time of thanksgiving for the birth of Christ.

The news from the 大象传媒 bulletins told us that the American and Russian troops were making great strides deep into German territory. These were given out periodically by the hut commanders who obtained the information from a secret radio, the whereabouts of which was known to only a few of the escape committee. The information was released after every precaution had been taken that there would be no possibility of the untimely intervention from one of the guards.

It appears that, as the war went on and the Germans became extremely short of food, some of the guards, particularly those who lived outside the camp, were not above a little bribery. Previously the British POWs, well-supplied with such foods as butter, sweets and cocoa from their Red Cross parcels which had come through pretty regularly up until the last twelve months, were able to exchange these for wireless parts like valves. Also there was quite a lot of radio equipment and escape material such as compasses, maps and money getting in through ordinary parcels sent from home, perhaps hidden in sports kits sent by some society or other; but, of course, these are not to be confused with parcels sent by the International Red Cross, which contained nothing other than the official items stated and were of the highest integrity.

I was thankful when the hard, bitterly cold winter months were behind us, as there had not been a blade of grass to be seen anywhere in the camp. One would have thought the door had been slammed in the face of Mother Nature and she had been told 鈥楰eep Out鈥�. There was nothing to be seen but hard-trodden earth giving everything a cold and soulless appearance but now there were distinct signs of spring in the air. This was evident by the long high grass which could be seen between the barbed-wire fence growing on a hillock some little distance away from the camp. As it swayed gently to and fro in the breeze, I experienced a wonderful feeling of hope and expectancy, this being the first budding growth of nature I had seen from inside the compound since I had arrived as a prisoner and I was convinced that this was an omen that all would be well for the future.

Often, when lying on my bunk at night just before going to sleep, my mind would take over with wild fantasies devising ingenious plans for escape which seemed absolutely brilliant and practically infallible but with the coming of morning, faced with reality in the cold light of day, I soon justified myself for not doing anything about it, thinking it utterly absurd and not at all practical, making all manner of excuses for myself such as it would not be many weeks now before we would be liberated, so why take a chance and perhaps get killed or maimed for life trying to do a bunk at this late stage in the war.

It was April 1945 and the camp buzzed with the news that President Roosevelt had died. It seemed such a tragedy that he had not lived to see the eventual complete capitulation of the German armies as he had been very reluctant to bring the United States into the war in the first place, being profoundly influenced by American opinion against doing so, but the cruel blow struck by the Japanese in their fateful attack on Pearl Harbour left him no alternative. He was a great diplomat, who did much in bringing greater understanding in the easing of any situation that might have threatened the bond between Stalin and the strong anti-Communist Winston Churchill.

One felt that, if Roosevelt had lived and had been in office at the cessation of hostilities, he might well have helped considerably in creating an organisation for ensuring world peace which might have stifled any seeds of mistrust that were eventually to bring about the Cold War.

It became increasingly evident in the bulletins we were receiving from the 大象传媒 that our camp was in the sector likely to be overrun by the Russian forces rather than the American 8th Army under the command of General Patten, which was still a long way off to the west.

Not many days had elapsed before we could hear the faint reports of distant artillery and, with the coming of daylight one morning, we discovered that the regular guards and the commandant had left the camp, leaving in their place elderly guards, many disabled and obviously unfit for front line duty, who were members of an organisation similar to the British Home Guard. We assumed that the regulars had been taken out to reinforce the troops in the lines, where the Germans were putting up stout resistance but having to give ground all along the line.

That night, Titch Cartwright and Roy came around to my hut, their faces hardly able to conceal their excitement. As they approached me they whispered hurriedly speaking together with great enthusiasm,

鈥淐ome on Dai! We鈥檙e making a break for it tonight!鈥� Titch鈥檚 large eyes protruded from a face creased into a big grin, expressing what we all felt now that we were going to do something positive at last after all these months of just waiting for something to happen. 鈥淚鈥檝e got a map and wire cutters,鈥� Roy blurted out.

I knew he had something to do with the escape committee at the camp. I felt that a great weight had been lifted from me, sensing that it was just a matter of hours before we would be turning our backs on Stalag IV B with its vast conglomeration of humanity representing practically half the nationalities of the world. Reflected in many was the indomitable strength of spirit given them by really believing with every fibre of their being in the just cause for which they had been fighting. Some showed the pathetic frailties and shortcomings of others, many perhaps having learned by letter of some tragic circumstance such as homes demolished during the blitz or losing someone very close or the infidelity of a wife or sweetheart being too much for their war sick and love-starved minds and bodies to cope with, resulting in them being frustrated almost to the point of despair.

After lights-out, we made our way through the barbed-wire fencing by wriggling on our bellies through the gap we had made in the wire, which we were very careful to put back in its original position. There was a huge glow in the clear, cold starry sky from large fires away in the distance and the flashing and muffled reports from what we assumed to be heavy artillery fire. Eagerly we broke into a run. We had not covered many yards when I fell into a little dip in the rough ground surrounding the camp. Titch, hard on my heels, almost fell over me.

鈥淯p Dai!鈥� he gasped as I struggle to my feet. Then he added, after taking a deep breath of the cold night air, 鈥淲e鈥檝e got a long way to go yet!鈥�

We all chuckled nervously, giving vent to a wonderful feeling of exuberance at the joy of being as free as a bird and the prospect of the adventure confronting us.

Figuring our chances of not being missed until roll-call the following morning, our immediate concern was whether the Germans had blown the bridges over the rivers and canals and, if they had not, whether they would be guarded by sentries. Fortunately, our fears were unfounded. It soon became apparent that they had commandeered every available man of fighting age in a last desperate attempt to hold the Allies from pushing deeper into Germany and on to Berlin.

All through the night, we plodded on relentlessly, hacking and floundering our way, often through quite thick undergrowth, travelling across fields and woods to keep away from the main roads and built-up areas and especially from any signs of fighting where the pockets of German resistance held out. Roy checked periodically on his compass when we stopped for a breather, pushing on again as the cold air started to chill the sweat we had worked up.

By first light the next morning, we were just about on our knees, completely exhausted when we came across a large old farmhouse tucked well away in the heart of the country nestling among the trees. Making a bee-line for the outhouses, we soon stumbled into a barn where we gratefully dropped on to a bed of hay with every muscle aching with fatigue. My eyes felt heavy and full, our clothes stuck to our bodies with heavy sweat and we soon drifted into a very deep sleep.

It was well into the afternoon when we awoke with the sun riding high in the sky. How wonderfully warm, friendly and reassuring it felt after the nightmare journey we had had the night before. After scouting around for some food we managed to collect some eggs from the hen-house despite the obvious show of displeasure by the hens as they fluttered their wings in front of us.

We made our way furtively towards the farmhouse itself where a very scared-looking elderly couple, having noticed us coming across the yard towards the house appeared in the porch accompanied by a tired old mongrel. They were both obviously very frightened, the old lady edging closer to the old man as we approached. We tried to explain to them that we were British and had been prisoners of war, that we had no intention of harming them in any way and that all we wanted was something to eat, but such assurance was lost on them. This was evident by the manner in which they cringed away from us whenever we moved near them as we set about making a meal of fried eggs and bread. The old dog sniffed inquisitively round our feet. Our boots, covered with dried mud, picked up from the swampy ground of the undergrowth the previous night, certainly seemed to be quite an attraction for him as he made little clicking noises with his tongue, lifting his eyes to us tentatively as he wagged his tail, no doubt telling us that he was not particularly interested in politics, German or British.

Thoughts of my own mother came to my mind as I glanced at the old lady, with her silver hair coiled into a bun, seated on a large wooden settle trying her utmost not to reveal her true feelings. The old man was a big, raw-boned chap, severe in appearance. His clear blue eyes reflected a man of keen intellect who had obviously been a fine fellow in his younger days, but we were desperately hungry, which, at the time, seemed ample justification for what we were doing.

After we had had our fill, we prepared a small pack of food for the next stage of our journey. Bidding goodbye to the old couple, we decided to push on again much to their relief. As I glanced back over my shoulder, they both stood in the porch where we had first seen them, their hands raised in a gesture of farewell and I would like to think good luck and with no hard feelings.

We made for the comforting shelter of the thick, green foliage of a nearby wood which at this time of year, like the whole of nature, had awakened and burst forth into life. There was much evidence of wanton destruction left by the advancing Russian troops as we passed through the German countryside. Mattresses, which had served them with a good night鈥檚 rest, were shown appreciation by being slung out of windows and hung limply over the window sills as if put out for an airing. Tablecloths and crockery lay strewn over the lawns and in many places, coloured bedspreads hung from the windows like huge bunting or flags acclaiming the success of their victorious advances. On one occasion, at late evening, crossing the skyline immediately ahead of us we saw a Russian military unit passing by like a scene from the Napoleonic Wars with its horse-drawn field kitchens, guns and other military equipment, as if the pages of history were suddenly turned back. Generally speaking of course, they were well-equipped, much of which was brought to them through the heroic efforts of the Royal and Merchant Navies as the North Sea convoys battled their way through those dangerous waters and their U-boat menace, braving the elements of the bitter Russian winters on their journey to Murmansk and other parts of the Soviet Union. We learned later that hundreds of liberated Soviet POWs, tattered, emaciated, bloodthirsty men seeking vengeance, had been given arms and ammunition by the Red Army forces to fill their depleted ranks, such was the urgency of their need for reinforcements as the Russian war machine rolled on relentlessly into the heart of Germany towards Berlin.

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