大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Roger Marsh of the 鈥楢ction Desk 鈥� Sheffield鈥� Team on behalf of Edward L. Humes, and has been added to the site with the authors permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Chapter 4: ON THE MOVE AGAIN
Many and varied were the tales my fellow patients had to tell. One especially, bears repeating. After the aircraft had been hit, the radio-operator had moved to leave his position when the aircraft broke up and he was left hanging from a piece of wreckage, but he was still wearing his helmet with the inter-com plug connected. His parachute opened and pulled him from the aircraft but not before he had removed the plug. Suddenly the unit gave way and the cord from the headset caught in the lines of the `chute. He landed unable to move. He arrived at the hospital fully conscious and able to speak but it was quite a few weeks before he was able to use any of his limbs. Part of his recovery programme was to attempt using a concertina. The last time I saw him, he was still struggling.

Each new arrival brought news of the progress of Allied forces; often their stories were very much different from the propaganda given out by the German radio, and the tales told by the staff of the hospital. The weeks passed quickly, and as August approached, the sound of heavy gunfire increased. The news from Belgian workpeople was that the allies were now close to Brussels. Each day we waited for good news but it seemed to us that movement had come to a halt. Perhaps the forward push had ceased or the powers that be had decided to by-pass the capital. On the 6th September, we had a visit from the senior officer of the hospital staff. He was ready to leave us in the hospital if the senior British officer would sign a document stating that we had been treated well during our captivity. We were overjoyed and were 100% ready to agree! The day passed agonisingly slowly and the night was full of the noise of artillery fire. There was nowhere for us to find shelter so we hid our concern by singing the tunes of the time.

As dawn broke, the sound of gunfire decreased and the sky was red with flame. Surely we would be recaptured in an hour or two! The doors of the annexe burst open and a number of German troops appeared. To our horror they wore the uniform of the S.S. Thoughts of being recaptured were dashed as the officer in command refused to accept the document signed the previous day. The walking wounded were ushered away and the bedridden lifted into wheelchairs. I was released from my traction, given a set of crutches and told to make my way to the bus, which was waiting. I soon had the knack of using crutches for the S.S. were in no mood to hang about. When it was clear that there were no other Allied prisoners left in the hospital, the bus moved off and we turned into the main square where we saw the Palais de Justice burning fiercely. There seemed to be thousands of troops moving about and heading out of the city. Slowly, yard-by-yard, we passed among the crowds, and at last reached the road signposted "VENLO". We were on our way to Holland but much was to happen before we reached our goal.

The roads were packed with retreating German troops and fleeing Belgian citizens. Every available type of transport was being used to leave the capital, and there was barely enough space to pass that which had already broken down. Dead animals littered the roadside. Horses lay with their feet in the air, dead either from attack from the air or just sheer exhaustion. Broken down vehicles littered the highway, their owners frantically seeking alternative means of escape. This was organised retreat? Suddenly, above the din, we heard the sound of fighter aircraft and then recognised the planes as Typhoons, not only that but our Senior British Officer made us aware that they were from his own squadron!!!

Within seconds the pilots began their attack on the fleeing troops and it was plain that we were not to be spared. The bus stopped, but our guards would not allow us to dismount and seek shelter. They were armed and we were not but the S.B.O. took his life in his hands and hurled himself at the nearest guard who immediately dropped his rifle and, together with his colleague, left the vehicle. We helped one another off the bus and headed for farm buildings nearby. The pigs were hastily evicted and we took their places. The sty was strongly built and we felt a good deal safer. Three of the walking wounded decided that this was an ideal opportunity to attempt an escape.

I know for certain that one, Sgt. W. Durland was successful, for his story was told in the records of 514 Squadron which was my own squadron. I have not heard the outcome of the others who made the attempt. At last the aircraft broke off their attack and we were ordered to re-board the bus which was undamaged and we noticed that there was no Red Cross insignia, Squadron Leader Brannigan was not too sure that a red cross would have made very much difference to the attack, as the bus was slap in the centre of the fleeing convoy. Slowly we moved on again.

The damage reeked on the fleeing army was horrendous and one could only feel pity for the wounded and dying, as each person in the convoy seemed bent on one task - to reach shelter and perhaps safety. As the day drew to a close, we felt a little safer, for we were aware that fighter aircraft would not operate in the dark and bombers would be too expensive to use against targets such as a fleeing convoy.

It was quite dark when we drew into the suburbs of Venlo, but we now came under attack from Dutch citizens who thought that we were German soldiers being carried away from the front-line. Fortunately no great damage was done and at last we were deposited at a Convent near the centre of the town. Our first thought was, "When are we going to get something to eat?" and then we became puzzled as to why we had been taken to the very top floor of the Convent.

The second question was answered by the Mother Superior who informed us that the senior German officer in the town did not want the responsibility of looking after us, perhaps if we remained hidden on the top floor advancing German troops would pass us by. You will remember we had heard a similar tale before.

For four days we remained hidden. We had reasonable food and excellent facilities. Perhaps this time we would be recaptured. It was not to be. On the morning of the fifth day, one of our number decided to investigate the troop noises in the street below. Sadly his appearance on the balcony was noticed by the civilian population below. They waved and he acknowledged their greeting, but was spotted by a soldier who was passing by. It had to be a member of the S.S.! Within minutes, we were taken into the grounds of the convent and I believe that the others felt as I did, we were going to be executed !!! To our great relief, this did not happen. A few hours later we were put aboard railway wagons to be transported into Germany.

INTO THE THIRD REICH
At the railway station, we were kept strictly apart from the civilian travellers who were boarding trains for various parts of Germany, and we were ushered towards a row of cattle trucks standing in a siding. The doors at the side of the trucks were open and we could see barbed wire, which was stretched across the width of the truck separating the interior into two sections. On the left were a number of palliasses, and to the right a cast iron wood burning stove and three bunks. We realised that this was to be our mode of transport for the next leg of our journey.

The guards occupied the section with the stove and we were to travel in the other section, but where we were heading, no-one would tell us. We came to the conclusion that our trip was not going to be a long one, for there was no food or drink aboard. The doors slammed shut; we heard the locks on our side being closed and then we were on our way. There were eight of us, and three very old men acting as guards. It was very dark and the soldiers had no wish to converse just yet but as we moved into the countryside, we learned that the men were really "Home Guards" and were terrified of authority, and for some reason, equally terrified of us. We had been classified as dangerous prisoners!

Uncomfortable as it was we gradually fell asleep, only to be woken up by a string of German oaths and the sight of one of the guards frantically trying to beat out the flames coming from his very long ersatz overcoat. He had got too near the stove, which was now glowing in the dark. His companions came to his aid, and soon all was quiet, except for the injured guard who was now afraid of his fate when he came to the end of his journey and would have to report the incident. There was nothing we could do to help treat his burns, for we were separated from him by the barbed wire screen. As evening approached, the following day we pulled into a siding and the doors were opened. We had not travelled far as we could hear voices calling, "Dusseldorf! Dusseldorf鈥�- this was our destination.

We dismounted and after a few moments, our party was separated into two groups, the RA.F. to one side and the U.S.A.A.F to the other. The American section was put aboard a bus and immediately moved from the station. We never saw them again. As for us, we boarded a truck and moved out of the city. The journey to our destination did not take very long and we eventually stopped at a camp which we soon realised was a Workers Camp.

It was divided into four compounds, which housed French, Italian, Polish and Russian citizens who were forced to work in the locality. Our quarters were to be in the French section and a few hours after our arrival, we were allocated three Russian prisoners to serve our every need. It was not too long before we realised that there was a definite pecking order at the camp.

After the Germans, the French were the pampered race. The Italians came next, followed by the Polish inmates and a very very long way behind came the Russians. Germans did not stand guard over the Russian compound, they left that to the Polish group and the Russian group provided the guard for the Polish compound ! !

At this stage we found it very difficult to comprehend the attitude of the Germans towards the Russian and the Polish people, after all, we had not been subject to the rule of the Nazi regime, and as yet, had met none of the cruelty meted out to the races they, the Germans, had conquered. Not many days were to pass before we saw examples of such cruelty, and it was with disbelieve that we saw Russian captives digging holes in the ground, into which they placed their dead comrades.

At least the Polish dead were given a decent burial service, and had fellow countrymen saying a prayer or two at the graveside and in some cases, placing a small wooden cross to mark the spot where the internment had taken place. Why were there so many deaths among these two races? The Russian captives would be given food only if they carried out a day's work and this explained why they were so eager to be our "servants". The food we gave them was perhaps sufficient to keep them alive for a few days longer, and even to build up their strength to resume the work they were ordered to carry out for their German captors, so obtaining further rations.

It was so sad to witness the actions of these poor creatures when they scrambled for a cigarette end, a crust of bread or any other morsels discarded by us. They took enormous risks to find a hole in the barbed wire, through which they鈥檇 visit our quarters and offer to carry out the most menial tasks for a very meagre reward.

Our next concern was more to do with ourselves, we seemed to be receiving rather a lot of French Red Cross parcels and the British parcels were turning up in the French section, but were issued to French workers. Really it was the shortage of English cigarettes and chocolate that triggered the enquiry.

The British Red Cross parcel was superior in every way to the French one, and the contents much greater in both calorific value and for the purposes of bartering. At the meeting we held with the French quartermaster, we discovered that the French believed that, as they were used as workers by the Germans, they were entitled to the better products in the British parcel. It must be noted here that Senior N.C.O.s and Officers were not obliged to work for the enemy and very rarely did so.

The plight of the other inmates in the camp was not considered by the French. The atmosphere was somewhat strained for the next couple of weeks and I think both sides were happy when it became known that the R.A.F. were to be moved on, again no hint of our destination was given.

The day of our departure arrived and I was asked by the Medical Officer in the camp to forego my crutches and use sticks in future. With some hesitation I acceded to his request and was able to walk out of the compound.

We were ferried to the station at Dusseldorf and saw a city devastated by bombing. The majority of the workers in the repair gangs were women, and we discovered that these were Russian. They looked wretched. Armed guards surrounded the area in which they were working. Quickly we boarded the cattle trucks, which were similar to those in which we had travelled from Venlo.

This time there were no incidents. Eventually we disembarked at a town called Menningen in the district of Thuringia. Our home was to be in a beautiful Opera House, which had been stripped of its finery to accommodate large numbers of P.O.W.s.

The residents were for the most part captives from the Arnheim operation, but there were also many aircrew held in the wire compounds. Entertainment seemed to be the order of the day. Impromptu concerts seemed to take place daily, added to which was the opportunity to view a group of circus performers who were camped outside the fence. Somehow, they seemed to have dodged the call-up.

Food was of the highest quality, or maybe we were now becoming used to taste of ersatz; ersatz that was frequently embellished with the contents of Red Cross parcels. Almost daily the number of prisoners grew and it became obvious that some would soon have to be moved on, but no one really wished to go. Despite the overcrowding, the camp was reasonably comfortable. Perhaps this was because it was classed as a re-habilitation unit. It was with some regret that we took the journey to the station, there to board compartments of an ordinary passenger train but still guarded by Home Guards.

It was night time when we neared Frankfurt, and the train was diverted into a siding as an air raid was taking place on the city. We disembarked at around ten a.m., and as we left the platform, we were attacked by German citizens who wanted revenge for the raid which had taken place the previous evening. Who could really blame them? Our guards fixed bayonets and eventually drove the angry people away. Not all were happy to leave, and some followed the tramcar, which was to take us to the interrogation centre just outside the town. Bricks rattled against the coachwork. Metal bars were used to smash windows, but our guards stuck to their task and we escaped without injury.

Pr-BR

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