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Around the Dover area there were several POW camps, both German and Italian. How do you know how I know — well I visited them.

I lived in a flat in East Brook Place, Dover and the owner of the house lived below us. He was a driver for a removal firm called Holmers. Sometimes his lorry was used to deliver bread to the POW camps and he asked me if I wanted to go for a drice with him — so off we went.

The Italian camps were quite untidy and the Italian POWs in their uniforms were quite scruffily dressed, but were very friendly and wanted me to sit on their knees bouncing me up and down and saying ‘bambino’. They gave me a wooden whistle and when we drove out of the camp waved Goodbye.

The Germans had the edges of the roads marked off with white stones and they marched around the camp in squads under the control of their own NCOs and officers. Their dress was not too bad. I stayed quite close to the lorry driver as I was frightened of the Germans.

One thing I always remember was the cook house. It was spotless and there was a huge vat of cooking beans. What I remember even more was the oar shaped piece of wood used to stir the beans. It was whiter than white,

I was always glad when we drove out of the German POW camp.

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