Next came the interrogation officer, whose job it is to get information. But this poor man did not bother me about the war, he looked very pale and ill. He knew like every other German the war was lost. He talked about home, his home and mine, his wife and children. He had a notebook and pencil, but put them back in his pocket without writing a word. He left me saying ‘I hope you will be well soon and back home in your own country.’ I must have gone back to sleep again, and awoke in the middle of an air raid. I have been in air raids before but nothing like this. It was just a continuous earthquake. As it was night time it probably was British bombers. It lasted about half an hour. I can remember the sister running through the ward screaming and covering the patients’ heads with sheets as glass came flying from the windows. I don’t think the hospital got a direct hit, but the bombs must have dropped all round it.
The orderly came running down the ward and ordered all those who could walk to get up quickly. We got up and dressed, and walked back through the snow to ambulances, buses and trucks which were waiting three hundred yards further back. They dare not venture nearer the hospital because the British artillery was expected to open up any moment. After many stops we eventually reached Cologne, where we were well received. But this hospital was terribly overcrowded. There were hundreds lying on the floor, on straw covered by sheets or blankets. We were about six inches apart. Our wounds were dressed each day. For breakfast we got a pint of coffee in a tall aluminium vessel or jug, which was wide at the top and narrow at the bottom, with plenty of bread and butter and honey. Shortly after breakfast three cigars were issued as no cigarettes were available. At eleven o’clock we had ‘skilly’ which was a thick soup or stew with meat potatoes and other vegetables. There was a meal at 4 p.m. of coffee, bread and butter, and cheese or sausage. There was a light meal about 7 p.m. of coffee with bread and jam.
It was here I lost my boots, which on any part of the continent are more precious than gold. It is almost impossible to replace boots, which means that most people sleep with their clothes and boots on (trousers are also valuable). After a week here we go by train to Düsseldorf, which is a prison hospital. It is called the ‘French Prison Hospital’ because the doctors and male nurses are almost all French. Here life is really tough. The food ration is small. Two thin slices of bread a day with a few potatoes (two or three). There is black coffee first thing in the morning with ‘skilly’ at 11 a.m. and black coffee at 4 p.m. We are dependent on Red Cross parcels but only get one a week between four men. These are British, American and Canadian parcels which are about equal in size and weight. But the American parcel has very much greater trading value. The coffee is really delicious but unfortunately it is too valuable to drink. It is a very tiny tin but we can get five loaves of German black bread for one tin. But I am told it was worth only three loaves a few months ago because American parcels came in greater quantities. The American cigarettes are very popular. There are two packages to each parcel. Most of the lads have stopped smoking and exchange their cigarettes for bread or potatoes. We do most of our trading with the German guards who trade with civilians outside the camp. We also trade with the Russian prisoners who supply potatoes and small pieces of wood for making fires for cooking. The Russians are almost all big men, over six foot. They wear a very long overcoat and soft hat, and they have a beard as few of them shave. Every day two men come to our room. One carries wood in very deep pockets and his companion carries potatoes. Trading with the Russians is difficult, due to the language problem. So we engage a middleman who acts as interpreter. He is an American with one leg. He speaks a little Polish which the Russians understand. The Yank is a clever salesman, and can get better value than we can. His fee is half a cigarette or the equivalent in bread. But he is not a hard man and will often help and advise us free of charge. He keeps us up to date in current market values of the various commodities and will inform us of any change. For example, we now pay eight American cigarettes for a loaf, a week ago it was nine. To pay more than the price laid down would be a most unfriendly act towards our fellow prisoners. Any bartering with jewellery or clothing is left to the Yank. This man cried when he told my pals about the time he sold a diamond ring which his father had given him for fifty cigarettes and six loaves of bread. The Canadian parcels, like the British, contain great food value, but are not as good for trading purposes as American. I like the Canadian ground coffee, which has to be boiled for about fifteen minutes. The Canadian biscuits we soak in water for several hours and fry in butter fat. Chocolate is worth four loaves a pound. British parcels do not contain cigarettes which ...12
We have a big coal stove and are quite warm. I am sitting next to an American and a British officer and a young American soldier who has lost both hands and is totally blind. This unfortunate boy is terribly depressed and cries all the time. The officers have been prisoners longer than me so I am able to give them information concerning the recent developments at the front. The Yank is terribly upset about the breakthrough at the Ardennes sector. The British officer who is Welsh turns on the Yank and says ‘There you are. The British had to give you a hand to fight in your own sector. You said only the other day there were no British troops on the continent’. The Yank answered saying, ‘The trouble with you is you can’t take a joke.’ We were held up several times due to the bombing. We have four German guards who stand around the stove singing in harmony. Prisoners are forbidden to sing. But they sing just the same.
The guards are now eating their food and I can see they have exactly the same rations as us. They are talking amongst themselves and the officers who understand German keep us informed of the subject of their conversation. They talk about the possibility of losing the war, their enormous losses on the eastern front, the dreadful quality of clothing, the inadequate supplies of material to the front, the superiority of Allied aircraft. One guard said the British have more aircraft than the Germans have potatoes. We are allowed off the train for exercise and are given coffee. The guards now take turns to get washed and shaved. They say we should reach Fallingbostel in two hours if there are no more air raids.
14
I am a Prisoner of War
As we arrived at the station ‘Fallingbostel’ about thirty kilometers from Hanover, we were received by two British prisoners and two German guards and four Russians who pushed a hand cart. The cart was to carry those who were unable to walk. Canadian Albemarle cigarettes were handed round by a British prisoner from the camp. The men from the Stalag were light-hearted and cheerful, which was a good sign. The distance to the camp was less than a mile, and we walked very slowly as some of the men had no boots but ill-fitting wooden clogs.
As we arrived in camp we were interviewed by a young medical officer from the paratroopers, who was taken prisoner at Arnheim. We were then searched by two Germans, and all personal property was taken from us, which was returned later. We were shown to our rooms, which were not unlike the wooden bungalow-type buildings at the prison hospital. It was obvious that those buildings were erected in a hurry and not meant to last a lifetime. They were simple one-storey huts with a door at each end and about twelve windows. There were two rows of three-tier beds made of wood. The bed was built up each side by a single piece of wood and at each end to give it a box-like appearance. I found this box bed rather cosy. The box structure was about six inches high and not only kept out draughts but kept the sleeper from falling out during air raids. Those who were wounded slept in the bottom beds, to save them climbing.
In confinement the prisoner soon learns to develop a remarkable sense of values. Everybody carries a box or bag of some kind where he keeps his food and personal belongings. But most of the Russians carry their belongings in very deep pockets of their overcoats. I carried a square tin box which was given to me by a French male nurse for helping him in the hospital. This box I valued and hoped one day to be able to make a handle for it. I carried my food in the box, but never kept any overnight because I was afraid of being robbed. Wh
en I was travelling on the train from Düsseldorf I had a piece of bread and cheese left over after the first day so I thought it would be wonderful to eat first thing in the morning when I awoke. But I could not sleep or rest that night for fear of losing my valuable hoard. In the end I had to eat it. I could never understand the other lads, how they could save food for days. In my tin box I carried my aluminium mug which I had brought from Cologne, a can for boiling water and two small flat stones to rest the can on and a few pieces of wood and a few old paper bandages which I used to make a fire with to make tea or coffee. I had nails given to me by the Russian carpenter, several buttons, a piece of string, a boot polish tin where I kept a needle and thread and a razor blade. I had a small cigarette case that held only five, which I found in Holland, and a notebook (I still have) and a piece of broken glass. Everything in camp has some value. Everything is saved: bits of paper for rolling dried tea leaves, which some of the lads smoke, even matchsticks are saved. Many of the older prisoners who were taken at Dunkirk spend most of their time walking around the compound looking to see what they can find. There are West African prisoners as well as Indians from the Punjab, Poles, Dutch, and Serbs. We have one American Negro. Many Italians have now arrived, as they are at war with Germany. On the first evening of our arrival we are given a mug of sweet cocoa and a thin slice of bread and butter. The cocoa is from Red Cross supplies. The bread and butter is given by the Germans. The following day we are moved into another hut which is terribly over-crowded. All the English speaking prisoners are now together, British, Americans, Canadians and a few Australians and I think there is one New Zealander.
At sick parade the first morning there are about 2000 in line and only one doctor, the British Capt. Ramsey.13 After this sick parade the doctor has to go to the hospital where there are several thousand bed patients. The death rate is about three or four a day. An old prisoner told me how I would know the number of deaths. He said there are a number of coffins stacked up outside the mortuary each morning about 9 a.m. The number is usually half a dozen, or as many as the carpenters are able to make and you can tell by the number left at night. So the following morning I went to the mortuary just after roll call and right enough there were six very plain coffins. They were just unpainted wooden boxes. At six in the evening there were two left. The death rate amongst the Russians is much higher than others. They mostly die from typhus. They get no Red Cross supplies and I am told have refused our Red Cross parcels. The Russians are in a different compound and do not mix much with the other nationalities, except the Russians from cities who are usually tradesmen and work in any part of the camp. They are mostly smaller and better educated than the others, who I am told are peasants from the Ukraine. The Russians are said to get a smaller ration than other peoples because as the Germans put it, the Russians ill-treat the German prisoners.
Many of our lads go out to work daily to cut wood in the forest, for which they get two cigarettes and an extra bowl of ‘skilly’. But such work is voluntary. I am told they are asked to sign papers to the effect that they will not try to escape whilst out of camp. Before I arrived here prisoners often went to Hanover and other towns to assist the injured and clean up generally after air raids. But there were so many escapees, and so many prisoners injured that such work was discontinued.
It is March and many more Americans and British have arrived, and we are more over-crowded. Several hundred have no beds but sleep on the floor, with just a thin blanket. Nobody undresses and consequently many prisoners are verminous. There are two people to each bed. The bread ration has been cut down and there are less parcels arriving. We get a bath each week and our clothing is fumigated in a room next to the bathroom. All clothing is placed on a wire hanger with our number on it, and is collected after the bath. In spite of all these precautions and efforts at cleanliness, many of the prisoners are simply walking with lice, which reminds me of my school days at Letterfrack. This camp has much in common with the industrial school. The unhealthy colour of the face, prominent cheek bones, sunken eyes and round shoulders. But unlike Letterfrack there is no ill-treatment. I have not seen or even heard of anyone being beaten.
The guards are always apologising for the small rations, and the poor living conditions. But they can’t help it. There isn’t any food in the country and they have many millions of prisoners and displaced persons. When I was taken prisoner at the front the German soldiers asked me for food. Several thousand American prisoners arrived but had to leave again due to lack of accommodation. During this time there were tens of thousands on the road simply because there was no room for them. Such prisoners and displaced persons were not always well received by the civilian population in the towns and villages, especially after heavy air raids. I have heard reports, first hand, of how in one small town the people refused to give the prisoners a drink of water and the guards had a terrific job to defend the prisoners from being beaten up. The air raids were now almost continuous and our food was often delayed for more than an hour, as we were not allowed outside the huts during raids. We had to go to the next compound to draw the ‘skilly’ which now was always sauerkraut’,14 which played havoc with the bowels and many men ran to the toilet between 20 and 40 times daily. For such a complaint there was no cure except good solid food.
To reach the cook house we had to go through a small hospital compound, where there were a large number of seriously wounded Russians. Many had lost legs and arms. Some were trying to get about without the use of a crutch or stick. It was here I seen the Russians go mad as they attacked a French cook as he was emptying a basin of bones and potato peelings. They just fought like wolves over the bones. I saw a man lying face downwards grasping a large bone and being savaged by other hungry men. One man was biting his ear. The man on the ground never let go the bone.
There were enormous supplies of Red Cross parcels and clothing held up at Luebeck which was the H.Q. for Red Cross and it could not be moved due to shortage of petrol and drivers. So one day we heard that the Red Cross were supplying petrol. A large number of British and allied drivers volunteered to go to Luebeck and bring back the food and clothing. I can’t remember if they ever left, they certainly never returned if they did leave. Our water supplies were bombed and we had to go outside the camp to a pump about a mile away. When I was on the way to the pump one day I see many thousands of displaced persons hobbling along the road with a German escort. Many of these people had no proper clothing but rags and straw tied around them.
There was a bit of trouble between the British and American prisoners. The Yanks liked to take their boots off going to bed, and sometimes they were stolen. So one night they took turns at staying awake and eventually caught two Glasgow lads stealing a pair of boots. There was a fight next morning and the Yanks got the worst of it because the Scots used their heads. The Americans refused to share the same room with the British so we had to move and find other accommodation. The Germans didn’t mind us fighting and would often stand around looking on and clapping their hands. There was a football in our compound, and the British as always loved to play or watch a game. So one morning as a game was in progress there was loud cheering when a goal was scored. So the Germans all rushed out brandishing guns thinking there was a mass break-out. It took a long time to explain what happened. There is a very small two-page paper published monthly called The Camp. It was in this paper about two months ago there appeared the names of 50 R.A.F. officers who were executed for a mass escape. I feel sure I knew one of the officers. His name is Christiansen and was a Flying Officer in Calcutta, but has since been promoted to Flight Lieutenant. He was a New Zealander.15
My left leg has completely healed but my right has become worse, due to the fact that I can’t keep it covered. My right arm has healed but still hurts when I drink anything warm. British prisoners have arrived from Poland who worked in the salt mines and on farms and they tell us amazing stories about conditions in other camps. One chap tells me about a camp where prisoners used
to distil their own spirits until a number of lads were poisoned. The punishment for being found with such liquor was two years. In another camp the prisoners lived so well that they were taken to the pictures and to meet their girlfriends. This privilege had to be paid for of course in cigarettes and chocolate or coffee. They got a parcel every two days. Prisoners have been known to buy their way out of a prison camp, and they left with a gun, a map and compass. This may cost from two to three thousand cigarettes. We have been warned that there are only two weeks’ supply of rations at the present level and no chance of replacements.
The bread ration is two thin slices a day, two potatoes, a portion of sausage meat, a table spoonful of sugar, and on alternate days we get a portion of honey or jam. There is now no salt. We get black coffee twice daily and the sauerkraut which the doctor has advised us against eating. The bread ration is half what we got at Letterfrack. The potato ration is about the same. The sugar is slightly more in prison than at Letterfrack. The butter or margarine is about the same. At Letterfrack we got fish or rice or rhubarb on Friday, which we don’t get in prison. Here in prison there is a cheese ration once a week or sometimes twice. So taking the food ration all round we were slightly better off at school in Ireland. But there is more variety in prison. But older prisoners from different camps say that it is the smallest ration they have seen. Don’t forget we are living in a country which has been fighting a bitter war for six years. She has been fighting three of the most powerful nations on earth. Life here in Stalag 11B Fallingbostel during the last months of the war is hard and unpleasant. Yet it is a Heaven on earth in comparison to my life at school. In Ireland, where children were brutally beaten and tortured, for no other reason than the lustful pleasure of the Christian Brothers.
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