大象传媒

On the 4th October (nine days before Italy declared war on Germany) we were removed from Camp 82 for yet another destination. Rumour had it that we were off to Jugoslavia. As we vacated that camp, all mayhem seemed to break out. Apparently the Germans were machine-gunning the length of the main tent inside of which was a brick wall where some POWs were said to have taken refuge. Others were said to have hidden in the sewers into which the enemy threw grenades.

Presumably, knowing what exactly was going on within the camp which we had just vacated, women outside were well and truly weeping all along our route to the station.
This was just nine days before the new Italian government had declared war on their former allies - Germany.

Our long train journey embraced possibly Florence, certainly Bologna, where a halt was made and our wagon doors were opened We were now on a track quite high above the crowds of people below. Some young girls below were waving to us, but not for long because the Gestapo grabbed hold of them.

Onwards through Verona and Trento. From a small grill on the side of our conveyance I was able to get a breathtaking glimpse of the towering and very colourful Dolomites. prior to passing Bolzano and arriving at the Brenner Pass.

At a quiet halt our train had slowed up for some reason or other. I was astonished to have had a glimpse of a young Italian in uniform, having a feather in his alpine hat, an attache case in his hand, being grabbed from the platform and pulled on
board our train.

Our next stop was within sight of Innsbruck and the Austrian mountains beyond. Here we all had to detrain and line up for propaganda pictures to be taken no doubt stating that we had been taken POWs in Italy!

Continuing onwards through the narrow neck of Austria and Garmisch-Partenkirchen until the next stop at Munich main station, where once again, our doors were opened and at what felt like some kind of celebation, we were served some life-saving soup at around mid-night.

After a long journey, we eventually landed up at a very bleak place called Muhlberg in Eastern Germany, (which by my reckoning, could not have been more than 30-35 miles 'as the crow flies' from Colditz). There was only a single track narrow-guage railway. I could not see any camp, until I noticed in the background what appeared like a mirage - yes this was Camp 1Vb!

By foot now and as we were getting nearer, a large wagon passed by with what I thought to have been a load of bricks with large numbers imprinted thereon. These. I was reminded, were in fact loaves of dark rye bread destined for the camp.

Before entering the camp, we had to endure some time having our finger prints taken and a fine chain around our necks bearing our POW official numbers on a large tag, which were then photographed. As this was done in alphabetical order, it entailed having to wait outside in biting cold winds for two hours in my case, the initial letter of my surname coming as it does in the middle of the alphabet.

After a fortnight here we were then split up into two groups, one to go to work at a sugar beet factory and the rest to go over the border into the Sudetenland area of Czechoslovakia to work in the coalmines. It
was this very region which Hitler had grabbed from the Czechs in September,1938

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