大象传媒

May 1st.
The stories that are going round - that Berlin is surrounded and Hitler as blown his brains out, that we shall be moving out of this camp, and that the Yanks are just down the road. Boy, oh boy! It's like the grand finale and the curtain will soon drop down for the last time.
At work I saw an incident that really convinced me that we were nearing the end. One of the squaddies fainted and the guard, a big fellow, picked him up and sat him on a pile of rubble, telling him to rest and not do any more work today. I was strolling past about two hours later when, out of the blue, a young German guard came past. He saw the squaddie sitting in the sunshine and told him to go back to work. The guard who was really in charge came up and told him to leave his group of POWs alone, he was in charge. Away he went.
We arrived back in the camp about 7.15 pm and soon after we received our rations. There was no improvement in quality; it is still lousy and tasteless. Still we know inwardly that it is not for much longer, "Because wars don't last for ever," I've oft-times heard folks say. And a bloody good job, too.

May 2nd. - 4th.
The best story so far is that the Commandant is going to tell us the war is over, bar the shouting. We know that! No such thing, yet. Although we are still getting up at 4 am and catching the train, we are not doing more work.

May 5th. - 7th.
The weather is very wet and windy but not too cold. The lads are talking about whether we should wait for the Russians to pick us up, or go and meet the Yanks. The verdict is we will go and meet up with the Yanks as "At least they speak English."

May 8th.
We were told that, as there was to be a training programme for the home guard, we would finish work at mid-day. When the train got to the siding the guard left us to find our own way back. We were like a lot of school kids on a day trip to somewhere! We waited for our rations and after that there was nothing else to do. Mind you, we did have a concert hall to go to, and there was a bit of a concert tonight.
When we arrived at the hall about 7.30, it was packed but we managed to get some seats. Then, the first of the budding actors came on the stage and did a dance routine. Were he got the energy to dance like that, don't ask me.
Then it happened! The singer was on the stage when bedlam broke out. I was listening to the singer and watching him on the stage. On the right-hand side was a picture of Hitler and on the left was a picture of that fat slob Goering.
Suddenly, without warning a squaddie dashed on the stage and jumped up and down waving his arms. "It's over, lads. The war is finished! We are free!" Chairs went flying as we stood up shouting our heads off! Then suddenly, the picture of Hitler was torn down and a picture of His Majesty King George VI appeared - the King, and at the same time a picture of that man Churchill. We went mad. Moments later two men walked on the stage and unfolded a 'Union Jack'. I cannot explain the wonderful feeling that ran through my body. Suddenly, and without a word of command, we all stood to attention, stiff as ramrods. Never, in all my life have I heard the national anthem sung as we sang it then. It was sung from the heart, with tears running down our faces. We sung that anthem - proud, unbeaten, unashamed. Life, freedom, hope and home lay before us. Then we sang 'Rule Britannia' and boy, did we let it go! It was a great and wonderful feeling. We were rejuvenated, reborn. Boy, oh boy! ... I just cannot tell you. After that we went outside and went wild.
The guards had disappeared. That was expected as they had been wearing civilian clothes under their uniforms for the past couple of days. I found Lofty and Frank and we decided to have a look at the cook-house to see what grub we could grab. A lot more fellows had the same idea! It was being ransacked, yet we managed to get some flower, a bit of bread, and a lump of sausage meat. There was nobody in charge but what a grand sight to see the 'Union Jack', not the swastika, flying at the top of the flag pole.

Next day, the sun was shining bright and it was to be a lovely day. A good mood was in all of us, but the problem was ... what next? A lot of men had already taken their few bits and pieces and left the camp. Do we sit and wait for the Russians, or try and meet the Yanks? I don't know why but we did not like the idea of being picked up by the Russians. We had heard so many stories about them, what were we to believe? So Frank, Bunny, Harry, Lofty and myself had a conference with a few more men of the hut about what to do and, as we could still hear gunfire in the distance, we decided to leave the camp. Leaving the camp felt just like going on a picnic! We were all loving this hour of freedom, with not a care in the world, as happy as sand boys, taking the first steps to England and home.
We thought the Yanks were at Karlsbad (Karlovy Vary), so we set off for there. We had covered about 3 or 4 miles when, for some reason I cannot recall, Lofty and Bunny had to return to the camp. They told us to carry on and they would catch us up. After about 2 hours I said to Harry and Frank, "I think we will stop here and wait for them." Despite wanting to press-on, Harry sat at the road-side with Frank and I while we waited. I was so relieved when, about two hours later, we saw them approaching. We could have lost them so easily.
As we continued along the long, straight road, we were passed by all sorts of transport. There was a horse and cart plodding along at a nice little rate of knots. The cart was full of about 20 squaddies and the driver was wearing a top hat! Motorcycles had been purloined. Chaps were going past on cycles with one on the cross-bar and one on the saddle. The best one of all was a old-fashioned one-horse cab; there were three chaps sitting on top, about eight inside, and the last man was riding on the back of the horse like a cowboy.
As we carried on, we met a bunch of retreating Germans. They had a horse and cart carrying a load of bags on and, lying on top of the bags were two men who were wounded. One of them was a boy about 15 years of age, exhausted and with his rifle by his side. I had not the slightest bit of feeling for them. They were trying to get to the Yanks and give themselves up before the Russians got them (we found out later that all Germans who fought the Russians were handed over to the Russians by the Yanks.) The officer in charge of this group was weary, bitter and forlorn; a man who had lost everything. He carried a revolver in his right hand. Lofty was trying to scrounge smokes or something from the troops. I told him to watch his step and keep away from them and I'm glad I did.
We had entered a small village and the people were watching us ex-POWs going past. When the civilians saw the Germans, they began to shout at them, calling them names and insulting them. But one youth, maybe 18 or 20 years old, must have said something that really hurt. He advanced to the officer waving his arms and shouting like a mad man. The officer just lifted up his right hand and fired his revolver, hitting the young man over the left eye. Part of his head had disappeared. That soon stopped the shouting. Four people carried the young man away.
We walked on until we got to a place called Kommantoa(?) at about 5 pm. It had been bombed four nights back. We went into a house and lit a fire. We made some cakes out of flour and water (two each) and we stayed there until 7 pm when we moved on.
We had not gone more than half a mile when we came up with a stationary lorry with a few Germans in it. I think it was Lofty that asked them for a lift. I jumped in the back, Harry lay on the near-side mudguard, Bunny on the far-side, and Frank and Lofty sat with the driver.
We travelled all night, I don't know where, but we must have crossed a mountain range. I only know that we went up and down some mighty hills. At about 5 am, we pulled up at a lonely house, set about 100 yards from the road on the side of a steep mountain. The German driver knocked heavily on the door, which was opened by a woman whom the driver asked for some hot water to make some coffee. As we all stood by the lorry drinking our coffee in the morning sunshine, we heard the roar of a motorcycle approaching. It was a German despatch rider. He stopped and told the troops that they had to turn back to help and fight a rearguard action. As they talked it over, we tried to tell them that the war was over. I think it was Frank who explained to them that we were only a few miles from the Yanks. If they went back they might be killed, wounded, or taken prisoner by the Russians. However, if they surrendered to us, we would hand them over to the Yanks as our prisoners. This they agreed to, and they then handed over their guns to us. I was given a Luger pistol, and we were all armed to the teeth in two shakes of a lamb's tail.
And so - on towards Karlsbad about 10 miles away. We had only travelled a mile or so when another dispatch rider caught up with us with the same message - to go back. Our German prisoners told him that we were in charge. We all kept a sharp eye on him, we had guns and we were prepared to use them. If he had gone for his revolver, I would have shot him, as would the others, I could not have cared less. He looked at us and at all the guns that were trained on him, then he walked to his cycle and pushed it into the nearby ditch. He walked towards us and put up his hands. Harry took his revolver then he got in the truck and away we went.
We arrived in Karlsbad about one hour later. As we approached the town centre there was a fork in the road. We got off the lorry and told the driver to take the left fork, put a white flag on the lorry, and drive five miles up the road were they would meet the Yanks. How they got on, we shall never know, as we had not a clue as to the whereabouts of the Yanks. So we set out to find them. The first one I saw was directing the traffic. I was fascinated by the huge roll of fat that was hanging from the back of his neck and over his collar. Talk about being well fed! He must have had a good life-style.

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Genevieve Tudor of the 大象传媒 Radio Shropshire CSV Action Desk on behalf of Mark Ruffle and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions

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