The difference in temperature when we came out was appalling, and it was a wonder that we did not all catch pneumonia on the spot. We fretted up and down in what shelter was offered by the bombed out station booking hall, whilst Adolf did his stuff out in the road, with what few lorries were passing by. He had a long spell, but at length came back. He indicated that it was no use and we should have to walk. Jack Evans at once avowed that he was not going to walk 27 kilometres in his bare feet. He sat down on the floor, produced a pocket knife, and proceeded to
make himself a pair of sandals out of the one whole flying boot that he still carried around with him. The resource and ingenuity of that fellow were amazing, but I still could not help commenting on the fact that had he been prompted to do this before, at the very beginning of his ordeal, he would have had plenty of time to spare then, and his need must have been even more pressing than it was now. I’m afraid that I did not get any satisfactory answer to my comment!
It would be about 6 a.m. when at last he was set up with a quite workable pair of sandals, and we were able to get some warmth into our systems by steady walking. Whilst we might start off at a good average speed of about 5 kilometres an hour, we knew from previous experience that our average would soon deteriorate. We felt that if we accomplished the full journey by teatime, we should do quite well. We started to bind pretty early about
essen
, for we had not eaten for over twelve hours. Adolf was adamant that we continue, however, and we gathered that we should have to wait two or three hours until it got warmer.
The Thunderbolts were out early that morning. We soon got quite a scare, because we had got mixed up with a ‘convoy’ of Russian and Italian prisoners who were being marched to some distant destination, and we were afraid that our friends up in the P47s would mistake us for a
retiring column of German soldiers. Twice around 8 a.m. we were forced to retire ignominiously into the ditch. On the second occasion, the aircraft dived down so close to us that we felt certain they must have been aiming for us. They had a target just out of sight round the bend in the road, however, and we were able to breathe freely once again, when at last their mission was accomplished and they flew away.
At about 9 a.m., when it was at last beginning to get quite warm, we stopped in a little wood just off the side of the road, and began another meal of bread and spam. We had no water, except the drop that was left in Adolf’s bottle which to give him his due, he was not at all selfish about, and made no demur at passing round. When I think about it now, it really was a marvel that we all did not contract all sorts of vile diseases, the way six of us drank quite unconcernedly out of the one dirty water bottle. Yet, at the same time, it was amazing that men, living under the most unsanitary and primeval conditions as we were, could flout all the known laws of hygiene and yet survive unscathed to tell the tale. It is I suppose, again, that same Divine hand.
We could see the trend of our road as it stretched for what promised to be many a hot and dusty mile along the side of a broad open valley, which was utterly devoid of any scenic merit when compared with the charming countryside encountered on our full day’s hike on Friday. The
walk that followed was also completely lacking in noteworthy incident, and long before the day was out we were weary of it. We made one quite long stop during the morning for Ev to bathe his feet in a stream, and Adolf improved the shining hour by having a shave. We had two subsequent halts to collect water from friendly cottagers, and when it came to a question of a stop for lunch, once again we could not get our guard to see that we English folk liked to keep our meals to regular hours! He was quite determined to get within sight of the place, before allowing us to eat again.
At about 2.30 p.m. there were signs that we might be getting near our journey’s end, for with Wetzlar still 4 kilometres away according to the milestones (or rather kilometrestones), we came across a number of
Luftwaffe
personnel who looked suspiciously like prison guards. At any rate, a check of some sort was in progress and Adolf had to produce his papers. I confessed to a certain feeling of astonishment, not only that he had them, but also that they appeared to be in order! These men pointed out a short cut, for we at once left the road and climbed up into the grounds of an old country house, which was a prominent landmark some 200 feet above the surrounding countryside. We wondered if this was the place we were aiming at. Our hearts began to sink again, for there were no signs of any prisoners, but we passed right through the grounds and out on the other side into a ploughed field.
‘Zwei kilometres – essen’
said Adolf, holding up two fingers. We flopped tharkfully into the dirt, gathering that we could eat now, our last meal with the worthy Adolf, and it would only take us about a further twenty minutes to complete the journey. We had the additional company as we ate of two small boys, who kept rubbing their hands together and grinning, as though anticipating for us a gruesome fate in the
Stalag
that lay just over the hill. It all looked reasonably authentic this time, and we wondered what might be in store for us.
The meal over, we pushed on. At last, on breasting a ridge, we could see the camp with its large white POW letters standing out on the roofs of two of the buildings, over on the next ridge, about half a mile away The approach was a bit roundabout, but we eventually drew into sight of the main entrance. We were greatly cheered at seeing many men in American and British uniforms sitting and strolling around the grounds.
Adolf handed us over without loss of time and beat a hasty retreat, presumably lest he was required for a further job and his visit home should be delayed still more. Goodbye, Adolf, you treated us pretty well, on the whole. I hope that you got to Frankfurt before the Americans, and that old Karl was still waiting for you on the railway station! Does it seem a very strange thing to record that our hearts were light as we passed
within the prison gates, and that after we had been inside the place a couple of hours we had but one word with which to describe it, and that was ‘Heaven’?
T
he feeling of elation that clutched at our hearts came from the knowledge that at last we could stop being nomads for a little while, we could almost surely find some sort of a bed on which to secure a semblance of a proper night’s rest, and surely the food would be no worse than what we had been getting. Indeed, if there were any Red Cross parcels coming through, it ought to be a jolly sight better. The description ‘Heaven’ came to be applied when we found that the amenities were far in excess of what we expected, even in our most optimistic moments. When we came to compare our possible future as POWs with what we had been through, there just did not appear to be any other word that fitted. Had we but known how short was to be our stay…!
We parted company with Adolf and were led into a room where there was every evidence of a brisk organisation fully laid on to deal with our very case. We were thoroughly searched and subjected to a brief interrogation by an English-speaking
official. He was not at all inquisitive, and quite understood the rule of ‘Number, rank and name only’. He had heard it, he said with a smile, many times before! Our photographs were taken, and we were then led away to the clothing store, where we met a Wing Commander Kelly who was in charge. It seemed very strange to be talking to an official who was not a German, but he thought nothing of it, and was soon dealing with our requirements in much the same way as if we had been a bunch of new recruits at a Receiving Centre back at home. We were all issued with a clean shirt, long woollen underclothing, socks, half a towel and other little amenities such as soap, razor blades, cigarettes and toothpaste. These things were an everyday matter in a civilised community, but we had almost forgotten their very existence. I also changed my shoes for another pair, which were a little too big for me and nearly as worn as the ones I discarded. I also received a big warm American flying jacket for use as an overcoat. Most of this stuff we learnt was supplied through the American Red Cross.
As pleased as kiddies with new toys we followed an American POW, who appeared to have been detailed to look after us, along to the showers. After a doctor had given us a brief inspection, chiefly for lice, we were able to enjoy the indescribable luxury of a hot shower. Every minute underneath the sizzling spray seemed to atone for the hours of discomfort and misery
spent in acquiring the dirt and filth that was now so rapidly slipping away under the soothing influence of soap and hot water. Afterwards, although I personally loathed long-legged underpants and long-sleeved vests, it was a real pleasure to feel something next to the skin that was clean.
As soon as we were ready, our guide told us to go and get some tea, and we joined a queue at the building he indicated as being the mess hall. The Germans supplied a bare ration of bread and potatoes, and everything else we ate at that sumptuous repast was the product of the American Red Cross. That was the first time, but it was destined to be by no means the last, that I had occasion to offer unstinted praise to the Americans and the way they organised supplies of food. It really was by comparison, a feast. We had a kind of stew made with tinned turkey, with the German potatoes and bread to take away the richness. This was followed by half a packet each of lucious dates, of the kind which had been practically non-existent for many years back in England. We also had very appetising biscuits and cheese and hot sweet cocoa. We were warned by men sitting at our table not to eat too heartily, if we had been living on short rations for a long spell. But for all that we had a really enjoyable meal, and rose, if a trifle heavier, at least a whole heap lighter-hearted. Such is man and his tummy!
We learnt that the mess hall and kitchen were run by volunteers from among the prisoners. No work of any kind was expected from us other than to take up our cup and plate to the servery. We could, if we wished, volunteer to help in the kitchen, but according to our informers there was always a long waiting list! We felt that for a few days, at any rate, we should be quite content to do absolutely nothing! We were most disappointed to learn that the camp. Dulag Luft, to give it its correct title, was only a sorting out centre, and that nobody ever stayed more than a week. A transport had left only that morning for Nüremberg, it seemed, and the total number of able-bodied men still on the camp was probably fewer than 100. Further enquiry elicited the information that the term ‘transport’ was only a polite fiction, being the equivalent to the English ‘posting’. The men had left on foot, in much the same manner as they had arrived.
Rumour seemed pretty rife among our fellow prisoners that the whole camp was shortly due to pack up and move to quarters more remote from the advancing Allied armies. This news did not surprise us at all. In view of our experience to date, we had been astonished that it had not moved before we arrived there! We were subjected to a bombardment of questions as to our adventures
en route
, and there was a particular anxiety to learn if we had any fresh news on the progress of the war. The prisoners got a daily
bulletin from the Germans, but naturally only got told as much as was good for them, and relied to a large extent on incoming men to give them the up-to-date news. We were only able to tell them of the rumour we had heard that the Americans were supposed to be within 15 kilometres of Oberursel last night. This seemed to tally with similar information brought in by somebody else, and everybody got fairly excited.
We had orders to stay in the mess hall for the time being, as there was an air raid in progress over the town of Wetzlar, about 2 miles away. This gave us the chance to spend quite a long while chatting to different fellows and getting to know as much as we could about our new surroundings. At length we moved out, collected up our few belongings and made our way to the barrack store. Here, we were issued with no fewer than four blankets each – again a vote of thanks was due to the American Red Cross. We were shown to our billets and found that these, although crowded, were clean and tidy, and the prospect of a decent night’s sleep loomed large and happily in front of us. There were eight three-tier bunks in the room, making accommodation for twenty-four men. I often smiled afterwards when I recalled our joy at finding that we should have a whole bunk to ourselves. Back at base we would have been disgusted if we had been offered a portion of even a two-tiered bed in which to pass
a single night, in for example, the emergency of a diversion to a different airfield.
We five comrades were all together in the one room, although Diffy had been missing for some time. We gathered that he had been over to the hospital to get proper treatment for his wounds. Our room-mates, as ever, were a mixed crowd, but there seemed some very decent fellows among them, and once more we were soon busy swapping yarns. We learnt that nobody was allowed out of the building after 8 p.m., by which time it was practically dark. We thought that this arrangement would suit us very well, as by that time we hoped to be fast asleep in our nice cosy little bunks! I don’t know what the others did, but I remember that by 7.30 p.m., I was in bed. In a very short space of time, the noise of the chatter had faded away, and I knew no more until somebody was murmuring that it was time to get up. I felt under my pillow for the watch that wasn’t there, wondering vaguely whether it was an early call for ‘ops’ that morning. Then, with a violent start, I realised where I was. Somebody who had the fortune to possess a watch, announced that it was 7.15 a.m., and we all ought to be getting out of bed.
I suppose that each one of us spent the day in his own different way. I, for my part, made up my mind very early that just in case we were going to be moved on in a big hurry, I would get in as much rest as possible, because there was no doubt that,
although like the others, I felt reasonably fit, the vicissitudes of the past eleven days had used up a good deal of my reserve energy
As we were dressing, I got hold of a good deal of information from the English flight sergeant navigator, Harry, who occupied the bunk immediately above me.
‘What time do we have breakfast?’ I asked.
‘It’s a quarter past seven now,’ he replied, ‘and by eight o’clock, you have to be washed and shaved, blankets have to be folded and we all have to be outside for roll-call. Immediately afterwards, we eat.’
‘And what happens after that?’
‘After that, you come back here and if it is fine, you are supposed to shake your blankets out of doors, tidy up the room and the rest of the morning is your own.’
‘That will suit me fine.’ I said. ‘What about dinner?’
‘Dinner is at 12 noon and after that there is nothing else to do until roll-call just before tea, at 4.30.’
By this time we had finished dressing and my friend showed me where we could wash. It was all nice and clean and pleasant, although there was no hot water. Using the razor I had acquired, I managed to scrape off a further accumulation of four days’ beard. When I had finished this feat of endurance, it was breakfast time. Hastily pushing my blankets into some form of order, I joined the others in the parade outside.
This was the first time that I had any opportunity of studying the occupants of the camp as a whole. I found that everybody who could walk was expected to attend this parade for roll-call, although there were some poor chaps limping around on crutches and others with their heads bandaged or their arms in slings.
There was no attempt made at calling all the names, but a rapid count of those present was taken and presumably as long as the numbers tallied, this was sufficient. There was hardly any formality attached to the gathering and as soon as the count had been made, we received the order to dismiss, which was also the signal for everybody to scamper into the mess hall.
Breakfast again, no thanks to the Germans, was a meal equally as good as supper the night before. I was still in conversation with my new friend Harry and during breakfast I picked up a few more facts about life in the prison camp.
‘Does anybody try to escape?’ I asked him.
‘Nobody ever wants to,’ was the reply. ‘It’s far too comfortable here. There was a case though, the other day, of a fellow who got through the barbed wire somehow and ran across the fields in broad daylight and, of course, he was shot instantly by one of the guards up in the tower. He must have been mad; the guard simply couldn’t miss at the range.’
‘Are the guards very strict then?’
‘No – most of them are fairly decent easy-going fellows, but they nearly all speak English, so you want to be careful what you say.’
‘You needn’t worry, I’m not going to say anything. I am just going to lie down and go to sleep – is there a library here?’
‘Yes, there is a very good one’ said Harry. ‘I think it opens at 10 a.m. and they have got stacks and stacks of books. You can get a new one every day if you want.’
‘It is all Red Cross stuff, I suppose?’
‘Yes. We are among the lucky ones here. The Red Cross parcels have never stopped coming and I believe they have got enough grub to last for months, even if the Germans never issued any more at all. As a matter of fact, they say this Camp is the best in Germany.’
‘And they say we may be going tomorrow,’ I groaned, ‘just our so-and-so luck’.
Breakfast over, we returned to the billet and as it was just starting to rain, somebody said that we would not need to shake out our blankets. This seemed to suit everyone and they all settled down to employ themselves in their different ways. Playing cards were available and two games were soon going on the table in the middle of the room. Arthur said that he was going to do some washing, which I agreed was not a bad idea, although it looked as though, with the first wet day we could remember in many weeks, it was going to be a job to get the stuff dry. I compromised
by washing my pants and vest, because I didn’t feel that I was going to be able to stick the service issue for very long. I hung these on the end of the bed, waiting for the rain to stop.
When Arthur and I came back to the room, it seemed that we had been rather lucky in being away for a few minutes. During our absence the chief Allied officer, who was a big red-faced American colonel with a terrific bark but very little bite, had been round and insisted that all blankets be taken outside and shaken, rain or no rain. Arthur and I felt terribly lazy and as we had missed hearing the instruction, we felt quite justified in ignoring it. We were sure that our blankets, only having been issued the night before, could not possibly need shaking yet!
My day’s work was done and I strolled round to the library leisurely and whilst waiting for it to open studied a specimen postcard supplied by the Red Cross for sending to the folks at home to let them know what was going on. This specimen must have been read by many thousands of prisoners passing through the camp in the past. No doubt they had all got a good laugh out of the imaginary American soldier who was writing to his sweetheart back in New York and telling her not to worry about ‘Junior’, as they would be married as soon as he got home. I made a mental note that I must get my own postcard fixed and despatched as soon as possible.
I secured my book
Random Harvest
, and spent the remainder of the day in luxurious idleness, lying on my bunk and alternatively reading and dozing. Dinner time came quite rapidly and the meal was as good as its predecessor; during the afternoon there was a break of about an hour when we had to go down into the shelters, because Wetzlar was again being heavily raided by our bombers. It was damp and cold in the shelters, but we all felt that it was in a very good cause and nobody was at all disposed to grumble. About teatime the sun came out, and with it, Arthur’s and my washing. We were able to spend the remaining few hours of daylight after tea sitting or strolling around the grounds in the same manner as those whom we had seen on our arrival the day before.
It was all very pleasant and our troubles and cares of the earlier days seemed very remote. One reads so much of POWs who have suffered to an unimaginable extent by years spent behind barbed wire with nothing to do. Whilst it is easy to realise how one could eventually get to this stage, it is at the same time difficult to make it sufficiently clear how completely overwhelmed we were by the sheer luxury of being absolutely idle.