Somewhere in Belgium
15 December 1944
My dear Bob,
It may surprise you to hear at the moment of writing I am only about six yards from the Germans! That may sound startling but of course they are behind barbed wire! As a matter of fact the pieces of wire between me and them is terribly weak and it would be as easy as winking for them to slip through in the dark and if they took a disliking to me they could easily cut my throat if they wanted to. Luckily the night is over, but naturally I didn’t sleep too heavily and only had about a couple of hours of dozing.
The night before last about seven men escaped by cutting their way through the wire, so last night I had my guard on their toes. None has escaped under me so far and they are not likely to in daylight. One of the reasons for their probable plans of escape not being fulfilled last night, was that some searchlights were used for the first time which aided the sentries job considerably. Last night I had my revolver fully loaded and [it] is still on me at the moment ready to shoot.
The prisoners are pretty desperate chaps believe me and at the first opportunity would kill you. Some are very young boys (about your age of 12). It is said that some of them are tied to a tree, given food and water and a rifle and told to shoot any enemy they see. When prisoners arrive here they have only just been captured. None of them seem to shave and they look so shabby in their huge long coats but also they look terrible fighters and look as though they are born to fight…
Well, not so very long now, I expect to come into contact with them not behind wire. But still don’t worry, it is my job as an Englishman and as a member of the good Sheldon family to return the blows to those who create evil…
At the moment I hear the guns firing at the doodlebugs* in the distance. I saw the old familiar flame of one this morning, but it is much less dangerous here (in that way) than at home.
A very happy Christmas and it may be New Year by the time you get this but I am told all our letters go by air.
Much love to you all,
David
4 Coy, 5th Bn
Coldstream Guards B.L.A
19th February 1945
Somewhere in Germany
My dear Mum and Dad,
I expect my address will be the first thing that surprises you. Well if only I could tell you. I’ve had the greatest experience of my life and you know what that is. It is very difficult for me to know what I can say and what I can’t, but we certainly are on the winning side and never could that have been illustrated more than a few days ago. I was slap in front of everything, leading section, leading platoon, leading company and it was ‘hot’. Somehow I didn’t feel a bit frightened except before the battle, [and] then I was too busy to bother much. I am sure the thought of so many people praying for me helped me no end.
The support we had was terrific. I can’t over emphasize it and the air support was the closest the battalion has ever had. The orders I had to give out for the attack were detailed and one of the hardships was to go 24 hours with only one piece of bread and a little bacon fat for breakfast and some steak pie and one peach for lunch. From lunch onwards, after being very energetic, as even to carry full battle orders in action is pretty great, we had nothing until six o’clock the next morning, except a bar of chocolate which I ate in the night. I for one hardly knew how to stand up.
As I’ve always told you, it’s one thing to take a place and it’s another to hold it. We got it all right but we dug in and we were safe, that is the whole platoon. There were only a few casualties altogether, but the Germans came in, in many groups. A very rough estimate, for security reasons, was we captured over 150 prisoners. Once I was within about 15 or 20 yards of a Spandau when I was in front of my leading section. Luckily he didn’t fire accurately. I can’t tell the whole story but we killed him before long.
A great prize, there were plenty of them, was to get a German revolver as we disarmed them. Mine is in a very good condition and some day perhaps it many hang on a wall at home as a souvenir. German resistance was very poor considering they had so much kit. There was one chap, who when asked his age, said he was only fifteen and he only looked that too.
How I have enjoyed seeing so many German houses burning to the ground, as I’ve always wanted to have my revenge for the blitzes on England and for the V1 and V2. I am glad to have contributed to routing the enemy from his own grounds and the Sheldon family can say it was responsible (in a tiny way) for driving the enemy back.
Yesterday I got a letter from you Dad. Grand it was too and such a contrast to such a tremendous event in my life. My platoon is full of very experienced fighting men and all are very good chaps, practically all older than me. I’ve got lots of censored envelopes for you, but won’t send them all at once.
I don’t know when this letter will be posted, perhaps in a few days’ time, as the circumstances are rather awkward.
Much love,
David
P.S. Have eaten many animals recently.
4 Coy, 5th Bn
Coldstream Guards B.L.A
12th March 1945
My dear Mum and Dad,
Never before have I wanted to be able to tell you about my experiences recently which now, thank God, are over. Suspense for the last battle was terrible as it lasted for about three days and we knew it wouldn’t be pleasant. However, I was brought through with God’s help, unharmed, and I do feel it was something to be thankful for. I was not in front again, at least not to start with, but my name and yours is very ill omened. I have read in the paper about our sector as being described as ‘absolute hell’ and for a few hours it certainly was.
Now things are all right again and I’ve never felt so happy in my life to get away from recent events. I myself have been extremely lucky. I shall be able to tell you later, in another letter, in what way. I was lucky, as my steel helmet got blown off and my slit trench partially filled in. I had a rifle or something on top of my head when it was over, but still I was unhurt in any way except for a slightly sore head and slightly deafened. Still I had the practice in training of being run over by a tank and that was about the same!
You can imagine my relief now, although all along through everything I didn’t seem to be frightened as I had so much to do and other people to think about. The ‘Stonks’ sometimes were terrifying.
Now I believe all trouble in that part is over, as it ought to be. I have now changed into a clean shirt, the first time for about six weeks and shortly I hope to have a ‘bath’! Although it is a rest to come away (from the line), there is not the fun of doing what you like to a totally unoccupied fully furnished house!… The thing now is to sleep of course, but although I can’t say at this stage, I have, at the moment, rather a special job…
I must end now, all is well and I feel grand now especially having had a good wash and shave in comfort. I am sure your many prayers from home and Crowborough have comforted me tremendously under rather difficult times and I know you will rejoice at my being brought out totally fit and happy.
Much love to all,
David
As the Allied armies advanced into Germany they began to come across the many prisoner of war camps that housed men such as William Hymers, who had been in captivity since he was taken prisoner in France in 1940 while serving as a Lance Corporal with the 5th Battalion, Buffs (Royal East Kent Regiment).
He spent most of the war in Stalag XXA near Thorn, in what is now Poland, before being marched back to Germany when the Russians neared the camp and was eventually liberated by the British near Hamburg.
18 April 1945
Sweetheart,
Am writing this in the hope that I shall be able to post it. We are still waiting to be sent home as patiently as we can and still trying to grasp the wonderful fact that we are once again free men. What a day that was when we made our own guards prisoners and met up with some of our own lads with the tanks. They gave us grub and fags – all they had in fact. Our chief regret is that we are not
at our best just now after the terrible time we have had but I bet you will soon feed me up to fighting pitch once more. Not that I’m too bad dear compared with many poor devils.
Went for a haircut yesterday and sat down right beside Gary. He looked a bit different owing to the fact of losing his teeth by getting a bang in the mouth with a German rifle butt. They were full of such tricks – setting large dogs on to us, whacking us with rifles as sticks, shooting some, stopping the food, what there was of it, and so on. Still they are paying now. Give my love to all and tell ’em I’ll be with you all soon.
Always Your Bill
All across the world, British and Allied prisoners were forced to wait for their release as the war in the Far East dragged on until August 1945.
William Innes-Ker was captured at the fall of Singapore while serving as an NCO with the 1st Battalion Straits Settlements Volunteer Force. His diary takes the form of a series of letters to his wife and describes his last Christmas in captivity and the disintegration of the Japanese position in the Pacific.
24.12.44
Christmas Eve! The shops all blazing with lights – full of good things, glittering tinsels, lovely silks and mountainous hams. Butchers with their shop fronts hidden by rows of turkeys, ducks and fat geese, and the flower shops with their little pots of white heather and early hyacinths – I wonder when we shall see those dear sights again? It’s extraordinary how infectious this Christmas Spirit is – even here in a Jail, hemmed in by walls, bars and dumb looking Nip Guards, the Spirit is abroad in no uncertain form. Jokes, ragging and general gaiety are order of the day. Plans are published for an immense feast tomorrow, and the cooks will work like madmen to turn out rice and veg in 10 different shapes and forms. Everyone has purchased 50 cent cheroots to smoke and a bulb of garlic to mix in with the food! What a stench there will be! And wonder of wonders, our temporary masters have notified [us] that all British born may send a 25 word radio to their next of kin… The Christmas pantomime here – called ‘Twinkletoes’ – a really ‘Crazy Gang’ effort, was so appreciated by some Nip guards who saw it, that the next thing was the General had ordered a Command Performance, and a bus load of military and civil Nips from town came out to see it!…
I wonder what you will be doing tomorrow… I picture your midday dinner – if in the country quite probably a turkey and maybe even a pseudo-pudding. Yum! I’d scream for joy just for a loaf of bread! Fancy, I’ve not eaten, or even seen, bread since July 1942 – 2½ years. Stop it Tam, this sort of writing gets you nowhere. I’ll close now Sweet till after the New Year – praying and wishing for you everything you can desire, which comes to the same thing as I do – namely our reunion soon – rich or poor never mind – just reunion and the freedom to live our lives together in peace.
3.2.45
Another very satisfactory visit from a great number of our friends who stayed some couple of hours and made a lot of noise. This was a few days ago, and since then every day one has called to see how we are getting on… I wonder if it will be all over by June? Things seem to be moving pretty rapidly here and there, or rather I should say there and there, NOT here! Apart from visits by B29s we see or hear nothing of what goes on around us, and while it is obvious there must be a terrible food shortage amongst the natives, we ourselves so far have not been reduced, through rumours are very strong just now. For this place to be so short of food, with its much reduced population, it may be deduced that Japan’s mastery of these seas is gone – presumably most of her ships are gone too.
Perhaps the most difficult task for those engaged in the liberation of Europe and the occupation of Germany was dealing with the concentration camps set up by the Nazi regime. Many camps came to light, including Sandbostel, a notorious prisoner of war camp, which contained a mixture of POWs and political prisoners, many of whom had been treated appallingly.
For the British, the most horrifying concentration camp they encountered was that at Bergen-Belsen, which was discovered by troops from the 11th Armoured Division on 15 April 1945. Michael Carey was a gunner with 48th Battery, 4th (Durham) Survey Regiment, Royal Artillery, part of XXX Corps who liberated the camp on 29 April 1945.
… But to conclude this epistle, here is an account of the camp we are now having to guard.
Situated in a tract of open countryside, largely bracken covered and black sandy soil, think of a huge tract wired off by an 8ft wall of barbed wire – an area of about 30 acres! All round the perimeter are high watch towers with search lights [fixed] on high. The inside area is quite bare of all vegetation and is now dry, very dusty and dirty with the black sandy soil. The area is laid out like any army camp – roads, huts and administration buildings, built for the greater part of wood. The normal population was 25,000, composed of all European nationalities… The fellows (and a few women) now in the place were marched for 2 months a distance of 600 kilometres, sleeping in barns and [haylofts] during February and March of this year. A few did part of the journey by rail – 100 men to a wagon built for 40 – but ¼ were dead on arrival at the destination.
The dead were thrown into miniature railway trucks and tipped into a common burial spot. The daily ration for the march was 3 potatoes and hot water – the rest had to be scrounged for. So the present inhabitants arrived on March 25th. For each hut, such as in our [camp] would house 100 men, there were 400 of the luckless people: in the hut they had to live for all purposes. There [is] a small area around each hut for [excrement] – perhaps 20yds wide. Water [is] laid on, but sanitation and hygiene is of the most primitive nature. Dysentery, typhus and general physical decay are rampant. I have had experience of dysentery myself in the Desert … but never have I seen anything as awful. After 5 or 6 years of captivity, bad treatment and little food you can form a slight impression of the state these creatures are in. Many of them are walking death – and during the first few days of our arrival they were dying at the rate of 400 a day! Even now we get 35 a day who die of starvation, typhus, dysentery or….! The Poles and Russians appear have been worst treated, and are in some cases almost not human! We have to guard our lot who are cannibals! – having cut out and eaten raw the heart and livers of their dead comrades. One party are German political opponents of the Nazis and they are in an awful state. They wear concentration camp uniform – i.e. a pyjama like outfit of blue and white stripes. No hair, and no real footwear. They live in dark cells and are too weak to be moved. At the moment all the people are being slowly fed up on better food – it is a great strain on their digestion – and tended by the doctor for whatever treatment is best. The poor beggars hobble about like frail ghosts and take ages to get up, move and settle down again. One man aged 42, was found to weigh 36 pounds! They are of all ages – from 13 to 85, living together – and yet there are many who remain fairly reasonable. The French, Belgians and Yugo Slavs are the quickest to recover and appear to have fared best during the past years. A few speak English, they still laugh and chatter among themselves, one fellow I have heard singing and a few have been kicking a football around. But the saddest of all is to talk to the Poles about their future. They are a party [who] leave the camp each day to go home, but several have asked us ‘where can we go?’ The Russians intend to hold on to [their] ‘homeland’ – and nearly all the Poles I have spoken to dislike the Russians as much as they do the Germans. Unless a big compromise is quickly reached on the question, Poland is to be a problem of the first magnitude. But to get back to the camp description. For the last two weeks German men and women labour corps have been brought into the place daily to clean it up, and you can not conceive the muck and mess they have had to clean up. The huts have been quite unsanitary and unkept, and the only thing to do has been to empty the huts lock, stock and barrel. Burn the whole stinking lot… Really, Kay, the filth and stench is indescribable, and unless experienced cannot be really conceived. However, one soon gets hardened to it and we get every other day free from the place. Now I am immune to all sights (dead, living, debased and half dead) an
d smell. One other point and I will finish this impression of a live real Hell. Now it is warm and dry, but what was the condition in February’s snow? Huts have fallen in, owing to having been stripped of wood for fires, and their clothing is made up of all manner of gear. In fact, that is the one comic side of the place. All queer mixtures of [beards] and clothes fashions. The place is daily improving, emptying, cleaned. The fellows are recovering strength, going out for walks, washing and wondering about their future. Others are still clinging to the last straws of life and an MO has told us that he thinks 60% of the camp will be able to survive.
The Germans who are working on the place, appear to be quite unmoved by the scene and the jobs they have to do. They have to do the most menial tasks imaginable, and are full of laughter and talk as they do it. Of course, all the POWs say we treat them in far too generously a manner. They want us to be more brutal and severe with them. Two days ago I saw a distribution of Red X parcels. They were delighted to have them, and are obviously vital to their survival. The Russians do not get Red X parcels and that may explain why they are in so much worse a condition than the French, for example Lolly and I went to an exhibition of art done by some of the inmates, and I asked for a painting as a souvenir from [a] Russian … but when I called for it the next day, he had left for Russia!
Well that is a slight impression of a horror camp. It is far worse in actual fact and some of the sights I shall never be able to forget.
What would help most of all though, would be to see you again and to spend a fortnight together on the jaunt in Devon, N. Wales or……
‘Au revoir’ blow out a match for me,
All my love is yours,
Michael
* PLUTO stands for Pipeline Under the Ocean, and was designed to supply petrol from depots in the south of England to the advancing troops in Europe.
Letters from the Front: From the First World War to the Present Day Page 20