大象传媒

The following is the copyright of Hans Alfred Nossky (account submitted in several parts)

I was taken to a French Hospital, taken over by the Allied Forces. I had rather strong pains in my stomach. The Army doctors decided to operate to remove the shrapnel without waiting for an X-Ray. My stomach was opened up to remove the cause of the pain. I was cut practically the whole length of my stomach. To this day I have the scar to prove it. They could not find the shrapnel in my stomach, so after stitching it up, they laid me on my front and tried to find the shrapnel the way it had entered my body, and found that it was lodged too close to my Spine to safely remove it, without the fear of damage to my Spine. So they left well alone, leaving the wound unstitched for any draining of the wound, if this became necessary.

When I became conscious again, a British Doctor spoke to me in perfect German to explain the situation, and told me it would be better to have pain at times but still be able to walk around, than be in a wheelchair and paralysed for the rest of my life. Though, there could be a chance in later life that the shrapnel may move, by heaving lifting, etc. and it may move outwards, the way it entered my back. I was taken to a Ward with a British Tank Commander, wounded in battle. Every morning the Ward Sister came to see us, spoke to the Tank Commander asking him how he was feeling, and passed my bed without speaking. After all, 1 could not understand her, and she could not understand me. 1 didn't know then what 'yes' or 'no' meant!

The first morning in that room 1 had a visit from a British Sergeant and he spoke to me in fluent German. He asked me how 1 was, and asked me if 1 would like him to type a few phrases in English and in German so that 1 could learn the phrases. He came to see me every day and he would ask me something in English and would expect me to answer him in English. That was the beginning of my learning to speak English. 1 will be forever grateful to that kind English Sergeant. After a day or so the Sister came, as always, into our room, spoke to the Sergeant and was about to leave the room, when 1 said "Good morning Sister". She said to me "Good morning, how are you?" 1 was able to answer her in English - "1 am very well, thank you" . You should have seen the surprise on her face!

From that day on, that Sister was the kindest person one could wish to meet, when she realised that 1 would like to learn her language and try to be friendly. She was so kind to me, that the day 1 was taken on a stretcher to be transported to England, she made the stretcher bearers put the stretcher down, rushed away and brought me a little linen bag filled with cigarettes, almost 400, she put the bag under my blanket, patted my cheeks, and wished me all the best for the future. 1 will never forget those kind people, as long as 1 live.

An Army ambulance drove me to the harbour, and 1 left France by Hospital ship on the way to
Southampton. From there, 1 was with a group of Prisoners of War and we were driven to a hospital, where I stayed for my wounds to heal up, for about eight weeks. We were in a long Nissan hut, with beds on either side. An armed guard sat in an easy chair on either end of the hut. I remember one night, there was a mighty bang, one of the elderly guards had dropped off to sleep and dropped his Sten gun. He felt very embarrassed.

One day, during my stay in the Hospital, I felt very, very, unwell. The Orderly said to me "I think you have a high temperature. I will get a thermometer to check your temperature." When he went to the cupboard, where they were kept, the Sister saw him and asked him what he was looking for. When he explained, she said" I looked at the temperature chart, and he had no temperature this morning. He is alright." He took no notice of the Sister, took my temperature, which was nearly 100. He saw the Sister, and screens were placed around my bed. The Matron was called, two doctors came, but to this day, nobody found out why my temperature shot up so high.

Every night the Night Sister made her round and always stopped by my bed and had a kind word with me, and always asked how I felt. By then I could speak a little English. During the day the Orderly told me what to answer the Night Sister when she asked me how I was feeling. I tried to remember what to say to the Sister every night. As every night, she came, stopped by my bed, and asked me how I was feeling. I couldn't for my life remember what I was to say to her. She asked me twice, and all I could do was to look at her. Now it was my turn to feel embarrassed. The Night Sister was a lovely lady and very, very kind. Incidents like the ones I have just written about, stay in ones mind for a long, long time.

After a few weeks my wounds healed and I was transported to a transit Camp in Otley in Yorkshire, where we slept in tents - twelve prisoners to a tent. Nothing exciting happened there, except boredom. After a week or two, a group of prisoners were transported to a working Camp, No.55. just outside the town of Buckingham, in Buckinghamshire. For the first few weeks we were transported every day in gangs of about ten to twelve men, under armed guard, to farms to work in the fields. Later, these restrictions were lifted and we were taken by lorry, in gangs of two or three, to farms to work during the day and picked up late afternoon, to be taken back to Camp, without the armed guards. After a few months at the Camp 55, the War came to an end. The day war in Europe was declared finished, we were not allowed to go to work on the farms that day, and we were kept in camp. At 10 o'clock that morning all 800 inmates of the Camp assembled at the square of the Camp. After a few words of thanks to the Lord by the Camp Leader, we sang that well-known hymn "Now thank we all our God". Imagine, 800 voices singing that hymn! The War was at an end. There were not many dry eyes among the prisoners. All, or most, had loved ones at home, or had lost loved ones. We all thanked the Lord that we were still alive.

After that day life carried on as normal. We drove to farms again daily to carry on with our jobs. For a week or two, a fellow prisoner of war and I worked on a gentleman's Estate outside Buckingham, digging trenches for a new draining system. The gentleman farmer, a retired Army Officer, came to see us a few times every day. One day, he asked if I would like to be billeted on his farm. He explained that he had two Land Army girls working on his farm, who were leaving to carry on with their jobs in Civvy Street. He was going to replace the two girls with two prisoners of war, to live on the farm. My answer was a loud "Yes, please". He took my name and number and said that I would be notified in good time. That was the last I heard for a week or two. One afternoon after returning from work on the farms, I was called to the Camp Office and informed that the next day I would leave the Camp, to be billeted on a farm. The following day, a fellow prisoner and I were transported to the farm of the retired Army Officer. When we arrived we were met by the gentleman, shown our quarters, and met one of the Land Army girls who was to stop for another two weeks to train us in the jobs we were going to do. That Land Army Girl, two years later, became my dear wife, and we are still happily married today after 54 years of marriage. (More about that later in my life story).

As I said, one of the Land Army girls who was living with a lady on the Estate, stayed on for another two weeks. During that time she taught us our jobs and she kindly helped us to improve our English. We became very good friends and I also became good friends with her landlady and the landlady's husband, who was very ill. I helped the Land Girls landlady to look to and nurse her dear husband. I did jobs for both of them and helped whenever I could.

Even when I was a Prisoner of War, people were very, very kind to me. After all, I was a human being, whose Mum and Dad were separated from their son who they loved.

The Land Girl's name was Winifred Martin and she came from Liverpool. During the two weeks she taught us our jobs we became very good friends. The two weeks soon passed by and she returned home and, a few months later, she came back to the Estate for a holiday with her former landlady. We continued our friendship and started to walk out together. Nobody minded because it was just a good, happy friendship.

In September 1946 my time as a Prisoner of War came to an end and I could have returned, to the then, East Germany - ruled by a Russian Dictator. As I had spent most of my youth under a Dictator's leadership, I decided to ask to be allowed to stay in England, as a free man with free people. My application was granted and I remained in England, a decision I have never regretted to this day. I was very happy working for that retired English Army Officer. As long as I carried on my job to the best of my ability I was, more or less, my own boss and allowed to make my own decisions concerning the job. The boss would see me first thing in the morning and ask me what had to be done that day, and then left me to carry on with my work.

Christmas 1946 Wynne's Mum and Dad asked me if I would like to spend Christmas with them at their home in Liverpool. I travelled by train from Buckingham to Birkenhead. Wynne came with her middle brother to meet me at the station. The train was over an hour late. We walked to the Ferry landing stage in Birkenhead to cross the Mersey by Ferry. By that time it was past midnight, in other words it was Christmas Day. After midnight, any night, the Ferry would cross only every hour. We had to wait nearly an hour. With us waited a Brass Band, which had played carols in Birkenhead. As the Ferry crossed the Mersey to Liverpool, the Band started playing the well-known German carol "Silent Night" - what a welcome to the town of birth of my future wife!

We arrived at the home of Wynne's elder brother, to drop of her middle brother. He was to sleep there because I was going to sleep in his bedroom at Wynne's home. When we arrived at Wynne's brother's flat, the phone started to ring; Wynne's Mum rang to find out if we had arrived. (The time by then was 3.30 in the morning of Christmas Day.) And she said, "tell Wynne and Hans to get here as soon as they can. I have a hot dinner ready for them." I will never, as long as I live forget that welcome at Wynne's home. My future Mother and Father-in-law made me feel at home, at once. To Mum and Dad I was welcomed as another son, not as a son-in-law, and I must say, to my future Brothers-in-law. I was just another brother. How lucky I was, to marry into such a loving, kind family.

During the spring of 1947 Wynne came to stay with her ex landlady, for a week's holiday again, and I visited Liverpool for a week's holiday in the summer. Wynne came again to Buckingham later that year, and we really got to know each other, started courting, became engaged, and made up our minds to get married in 1948. During early 1948, Wynne and her dear mother came to visit me. They stayed with some friends of ours for a week, and Wynne's Mum was able to see where we were going to live once we were married. Later that year I visited Liverpool again for a week and the final arrangements were made for the wedding on the 21st December 1948. We had known each other for over 2 Y 1/2 years, but our actual courting time was only about six weeks. We married in 1948 and are still together nearly 54 years on.

As I said our big day was the 21st December 1948, we were married at St. Bride's Church in Liverpool. Wynne looked stunning when she walked down the aisle. I felt very proud at that moment. After making our wedding vows, we drove to the Reception at the Rialto Cinema in Liverpool. Later, we returned to Altrincham, to Wynne's brother Douglas and his wife Iris, not forgetting our little niece Elizabeth, who was one of Wynne's Bridesmaids, at the age of four, for a three-day honeymoon. Money was very short for us in those days. Three days later we returned to Buckingham to start married life in a flat above the Stables, in the stable yard of the Estate where I worked.

My fellow German Prisoner of War had been released and, as he was married and had a farm in Germany, he returned home. To replace him my boss engaged an ex Italian Prisoner of War to work with me on the farm. We became good friends. He returned to Italy for a holiday for two weeks and married his sweetheart, and brought her back with him to England. He brought me back some bean seeds and told me they would grow as long as my arm, and were called 'As long as your Arm'. I grew some in my garden and gave some to Doug, my brother-in-law and, sure enough, the beans grew as long as you arm! My niece's husband tried every Nursery where he lived to buy some of those seeds, but nobody had heard of them. We had a good laugh when we realised that was the name John, the Italian, had given to the bean seeds.

John's wife became pregnant and shortly before the baby was due she was riding her bicycle every day. One afternoon, she had been out on her bicycle again; John came to us and told us that his wife had some severe pains. We advised him to ring the Midwife, but he said I will ring her in the morning. The baby was born at midnight - so much for waiting till the morning!

During that time, Wynne and I were very, very happy. I liked my job very much, made some good friends; my boss was a kind, fair man. But I must say, the wages were very low. Two of us had to live on 拢5.00 a week. There was no chance of Wynne continuing with her occupation, she was a qualified Secretary. Wynne could not find a job, as the nearest town was five miles away, and public transport very sparse. We were pretty hard up all the time. We both smoked in those days, so we kept our cigarette ends (there were no filter tips in those days) and on Wednesdays, Wynne would cut the burnt ends from the kept cigarettes, open them and roll the tobacco with a little cigarette roller. We smoked these cigarettes until Friday (pay day!). We were, as I said, pretty hard up yet we owed nobody a penny, and always paid our way. How we managed, nobody knows.

After about 15 months of struggling times we decided to look for another, better paying, job. It had to be in farming, because that was the only job I was allowed to do as an ex Prisoner of War. Another reason for us looking was that we wanted to be near Wynne's Mum and Dad. Dad had retired from his job and lived in a flat in Altrincham, so we decided to find a job nearer to them, somewhere in Cheshire. We saw a farming job advertised in the "Farmers' Weekly" for a tractor driver in Macclesfield. We were lucky enough to be interviewed and got the job, and Wynne was offered a job in the Dairy. We knew the job was not her profession, but it was a chance for Wynne to earn some money.
The farm owners owned three farms, with the most modern and up-to-date equipment, milking in a milking parlour up to 120 Guernsey cows daily.

We lived in a farmhouse, which had been converted into two big flats. Wynne and I lived in one part and the foreman, George, and his wife, lived in the other part of the house. We became great friends with George and Betty and their son and stayed close friends for years and years and years. Again, we were happy and contented at that farm near Macclesfield, and were able to visit Wynne's Mum and Dad often on our weekends off. Then bad luck struck us. The head herdsman of the three farms was made the Manager of the farms, and a new head herdsman with his wife and living-in assistant was appointed but there was no accommodation for them. So, last come - first to go! We were asked could we find another job as our flat was needed for the new herdsman and his wife and his assistant.

We were given a very good Reference, which helped us to find a new job at Agden, near Altrincham. Lucky for us, as Wynne's Mum and Dad, of course, lived in Altrincham and very lucky for Wynne, as she started a job at a small company, as secretary, in Broadheath, Altrincham. We lived at Agden for 8 years, in a row of cottages alongside the Bridgewater Canal.

Continued as rags to riches part 3

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