´óÏó´«Ã½

During this latter stages of my active service I was billeted in a nice quiet French country village, we slept and lived at the side of a Convent and although we did not fraternise because we were taught to respect the Nuns way of life, we lived together very sociably and friendly. It was mostly boring day to day chores.

Then of course, the American Forces landed in Normandy and began their advance . We faced the Americans in opposing trenches about a hundred metres away. Both our forces, the Americans and the Germans would send out ‘ENTERTAINMENT’ to each other. The Americans promised the Germans that if they surrendered they would be taken to posh POW camps where prostitutes would be made available to service our needs. Of course the Germans played similar ‘ENTERTAINMENT’ games.

Interspersing these propaganda games there would be shooting at each other of course. It’s all right for the Generals, but for the common soldier, battles are madness, where for the most part we really did not want to shoot each other. This is probably why soldiers in all armies are trained to reflex, actions where they behave as automatons. As part of a tactical, battlefield withdrawal plan, my unit was ordered to withdraw to other positions, possibly to check a flanking move by the Americans.

I was one of the soldiers selected to do Rear Guard Actions. Where I had to go back and forth to check on the American advance, then report this to my superiors. It was on one of these forays that that my mates and I encountered an American Armoured Unit. We tried to delay them and then return to report. It was here that I would have been fatally wounded, if not for the help of my comrades and the Americans, who no doubt saved my life.

My comrades first took me to a cellar shelter where resting on potatoes, I was profusely bleeding from my legs and lower regions, with shrapnel embedded inside the wound. I lost consciousness several times. Finally our position was over-run. After checking that we had no weapons and they had gained our surrender, the Americans Medical Staff gave me first aid then four Americans took me to an extremely well equipped Field Hospital which although was a tent, was quite luxurious to what we were used to.

After my wound had been stabilised and blood transfusion given to me, of whom I am eternally grateful, I began to talk to the American Wounded, I was the only German there. They gave me cigarettes and chewing gum and we were amazingly, generally happy, probably because we had survived. This was 11/ 11/ 1944 when I officially became a prisoner of war.

Finally I was classified fit to travel although many of us were bed cases and intravenously fed. We were placed 500 POWs to each American troop transport, all of which flew the designated recognition flag, so that the Germans would not attack them. Even so, on this terrible bad weather sea journey, were many of us were extra sea sick, we were nearly torpedoed. When I arrived in New York we were taken by train to Tennessee, where I was taken to a convalescence home to heal my wounds, then I was taken to a fabulous, luxury Prisoner of War Camp. Where we had excellent food, unheard of steaks, marvellous facilities.

We had Orchestras, clubs, we could buy anything with the dollar tokens they gave us. We had parties and socialising. Then I was sent to a Harvesting Camp where we still had good facilities and this was very open. I was kept in America until my discharge, where there was some difficulty in anyone knowing where to send me.

I tried to get home, but instead was eventually sent to what I would call a ‘Concentration Camp in Belgium’ .Over 4,000 German Prisoners starved to death in this horrible place. Due mainly to corrupt practices of Ration theft by our Belgium Guards. It seems that our Geneva Convention and Human Rights were contravened, of which I have always believed in maintaining. A really bad experience for me.

But, fortunately for me we were visited by an English Doctor, who selected many of us for transport to England. Where we were enlisted to work in the Harvesting. Remember also that harvesting for most peoples at this time meant physical work in the fields without machinery. I stayed at what I believe to be called Saltby, near Belvoir Castle. The original time span should have been six months, but I was kept longer as many POWs were. I remember spending the 1947 severe winter, snow digging. When I was discharged in 1948, My Mother told me not to come home, because she was in the Russian Sector and the Russians tended to cart off the men. This historical time period is also well documented. I managed to settle here in England and made myself useful by making Saddles and everything linked to horses and the associated industry. I got married to a beautiful English girl.

Although I experienced some distasteful, hate moments by some of my neighbours, and even my wife and daughter received verbal hate remarks. Some of my work mates would not even talk to me, but eventually over a period of time we became good friends, but sometimes people are pre-judgemental until we realise that we are just ordinary folk caught up in the ambitions of others. And I have managed to enjoy my new life here in England. I now enjoy being chairmen of the local evergreen club and other important community activities. Hopefully time does heal all wounds.

‘This story was submitted to the Peoples war site by Rod Aldwinckle of the CSV Action Desk on behalf of Hans Kuhn civilian and has been added to the site with his permission.. The author fully understands the sites terms and conditions’.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.