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The following story appears courtesy of and with thanks to Ray Newlove and Della Petch

One day I was strolling round the compound and I heard machine gun fire. I went inside the hut to notify the lads, who duly came out to hear and to my astonishment, not another sound. The remark from the lads was not very complimentary. This gave me food for thought. My opportunity came when out planting trees. I decided it was time for me to make a break, which unfortunately was too premature. I lasted a few days, helped by Ukranies and Polish slave workers, who gave me food and shelter during daylight hours. I was caught crossing a railway line by two German police with alsatians. I spent the first night in a small village jail. I was given one piece of bread about 2 inch square and a bowl of water. The next morning I was sent to the same camp, which was to let the other lads see. It was hopeless to try an escape. The camp Commandant said I was to be punished in due course, which I am thankful to say, never came about. The reason I will explain. After a day or two after I had been returned, we were marching to the clearing in the woods, where young tree planting was in progress, when we noticed, going the road, about half a mile away, tanks, also a farm near the road was in flames. Then without more than a minute, a few rounds were fired in our direction. We took cover, but the tanks carried on. We went to our place of work, but after a while, German’s started to arrive unarmed. We then realized what had happened. I finished up with our camp Commandants lugar, which I carried for week after that. It gave me great pleasure to put him, along with some high ranking Luftwaffe officers, in the camp we had vacated.
Then Scratch, the Canadian sergeant and a few of the lads made for the nearest place to find rest for the night. While on our way a spearhead of British tanks stopped to greet us, gave us some rations and told us to make sure we had a comfortable bed to sleep in, as the infantry would be a while before they got here. This we did, but during that night, it was hell let loose again; shells flying over the house we had decided to shelter in. We began to wonder what was in store; a badly wounded German woman was brought to us in very bad shape and we had to hand her over to the civilians as we had no medical supplies or anything. The dawn came and our Sergeant had commandeered a German wireless truck. So off we went again, on the autobahn which was by this time cluttered with burned out tanks and trucks, which delayed us a lot. We managed to get a British marking on our transport, which was a wise thing to do. We could have been wrongly identified. The lad who was driving would have made a good stock car driver. Those days as when a few obstacles come in our way, we went down the bank into a field and back on the autobahn, until in the end we came to a complete stop. The British convoys with supplies were trying to get through, mostly the airbourne div. with their red berets. They saw us OK for food and we helped to roll some of the vehicles down the bank until a column of German POW’s came along. They were ordered to help. So off we go again until we were stopped again by a British army officer, who told us to get down the other bank and stay under cover. We then discovered three German tanks at the other side. He just wanted to blow them to make them safe, after this we arrived at the river crossing, which I think was the Elbe. This was a pontoon bridge made by the RE and it was one way. We had arrived at the wrong time as the supply trucks were rolling from the other side. We must have been there hours. Then our turn came to cross. It was here where I decided to part with my German luger. I pitched it in the middle of the river.
We eventually arrived at Monty’s HQ at Lunaburg Heath, it was then I started to realize I was a full blown soldier once again. It made me look in astonishment at the heap of loot what we had carried, only to be confiscated. We got a mustard bath also a proper delousing, then another bath and all new clothes (uniform). Our regiment on our eplets, the lot. We were only at Lunaburg 2 days and then transferred to some more barracks where we were exempt from duties and fed on good food. Also, I would like to point out a non frat ban was strictly enforced. After a short stay here we were under canvas for a few weeks. Still no duties and food of the highest quality, then we were told that we would be arriving home by plane, mine was 17, I shall always remember as all my mates kept going and I had begun to wonder if group 17 was a forgotten number. You had to go down to a large notice board and look for your group number. Then one morning I went down and there it was, group 17. I could not get my kit packed quick enough.
We had previously sent a letter home to say we were released pending return to England. We arrived at this German airfield which was riddled with bomb craters. It was a credit to the airmen who had bombed this previously, also it needed great skill to land. We were in a long queue when out of the sky came some Flying Fortresses. They landed at the far end of the airstrip. Instructions were given to the lads anyone wishing to go could do so, hundreds of our lads dashed across to find out that the Yanks were not returning to England while later that day. By this time the Lancaster’s began to touch down. By this time I had moved well up the queue with the departure of these lads who had to go to the end of the line after their rush towards the Yanks. The Lancaster’s were dropping food in Holland then dropping in, turning straight round to lift us back to Blighty.
In my bomber we were cramped but what odds we were going home. On the entrance we were issued with a greaseproof bag and a box of Turkish Delight. Above the door to the aircraft read ‘Two hours ten minutes to Blighty.’ Then came the big moment we all had been waiting for. The big four-engine bomber began to taxi down to the end of the runway. Out of the side stood the row of flying forts. I felt on top of the world, being released by the British and flown home by the RAF. The engines began to gather momentum and away we went into the sky, we went over the Dutch port of Rotterdam. The pilot called us up just a few at a time to see the damage to the port installations etc. Then over the north sea we began to fly. We had a few starts when we hit a few air pockets, which of course was a new experience as I for one had never flown before. Then came the best moment of all when the pilot asked if anyone wishes to see the white cliffs of Dover. We all knew we were on our own land, or should I say flying over England, which after my years in several countries proved to me we grumble about our native land, but with my experience, under I will admit adverse circumstances, still is the best country to live in.
We landed at a small airstrip near Aylesury. A decorated hanger and WAAF’s to escort us to our reception, which we very much appreciated. It was a great homecoming. We never expected anything like it. Well done the boys in blue. Now after a few days in camp preparing for our journey on leave, which was a thrill, we could not get home to greet our parents fast enough as some of us had never seen our families for five years or more.
This is just an experience of one ex POW, who, along with thousands of lads from civilian life, could never have previously thought possible when stepping into khaki. I look back now in later years and count myself lucky to be alive and I really mean this, as my luck did at time nearly run out. I would like to point out that this is just a small part of life behind barbed wire; there are numerous other things could be mentioned but I met some good lads who were prepared to risk their lives, even under difficult conditions, as when you carry a rifle or machine gun, at least you have a 50-50 chance.
But before I close my chapter, I would like to say this — a chap who said he was not frightened when under fire for the first time, is a stranger to the truth. I have heard some brave and daring lads admit to this experience. Your courage strengthens as you realise everything is for real.

'This story was submitted to the People’s War site by ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Merseyside’s People’s War team on behalf of the author and has been added to the site with his / her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

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