Colditz

  Out of the blue Patrick heard that an old friend from the days of the Greek campaign and beyond had arrived back in England from, of all places, Colditz. This was Colonel Miles Reid MC, who had just been repatriated with the group which included Harry Elliot. Hurriedly he got permission to visit Miles.

  Miles poured cold water on the whole idea and came, himself, a couple of days later to SAARF headquarters where he had a long private session with the Commandant, a brigadier nicknamed “Crasher,” who had earlier commanded a division in the desert. Patrick Leigh Fermor writes, “They both emerged scowling” (from the session). Miles said, “He doesn’t know what he’s up to. I’ll go to Churchill if necessary.”

  As things turned out, it was too late for Miles to go to Churchill. The date was Friday, 13 April 1945. The Castle was relieved by the Americans on Monday the 16th.

  Miles’s suggestion was that “A special parachute operation should be launched designed not to fail” to relieve the POWs. Before he left Colditz he had been coached by Colonel Tod to stress to the War Office that any rescue operation planned would have to be absolutely “fail-safe.” Anything less would be disastrous. As any “fail-safe” plan would undoubtedly be very expensive indeed, Tod, though not in a position to judge or decide, nevertheless considered that such an operation would, if not should, get the “thumbs down.”

  Hence when Miles was faced with the plan set out to him by Leigh Fermor, his reaction was understandable. The plan was in the “two men and a boy” category. It might succeed and be worthwhile for dozens of Stalags if not some Oflags, but it would not succeed at Colditz. The other side of the coin was that Tod had a plan which was maturing, with hopeful indications of a successful outcome. The plan’s aim was to save the lives of all the POWs. Miles was aware of this.

  The month of March in Colditz Castle passed as a month of incessant daily air-raid bombardment in the distant areas around with planes continuously passing overhead. The Hof seethed with crowding humanity through the daylight hours. Food was appallingly scarce—all were on a starvation diet and all lived in slum conditions. There were rumors of German revolts in various parts of the country. There were constant air-raid alarms. No sooner did the all-clear sound than another raid was warned. Still the railway line and main road in and out of Colditz had not been affected. In the chaotic conditions which prevailed in the Castle, reflecting the conditions in the whole of Germany, the Red Cross from Switzerland and Denmark continued their noble work, delivering food supplies. They performed wonders. Trucks of supplies looked like gutted charabancs, hooded over and painted white with large red crosses on the roofs, impossible to mistake from the air.

  During the early days of April, the Castle was in turmoil. Large numbers of French officers arrived, bedded down on straw, then some departed. No sooner had they departed than other French officers arrived, some in trucks, some on foot with tons of hand cart luggage. More of them left.

  The distribution of Red Cross food started a major rumpus between the British and the French. Colonel German, British Parcels Officer, was motivated to make a written report on the affair for the record. He dictated it to Padre Platt, as recorder of the Oflag. Colonel German reported:

  On the 3rd of April British and French Parcels Officers were informed of a consignment of parcels having arrived and were taken into the outer courtyard to check the same, and found a large Swiss lorry (the consignment was from Lübeck, not Geneva, as at first supposed), already unloading.

  A civilian, one of the drivers, standing by, replying to a question, said: “Here are 960 parcels for Oflag IVC.” This released the spring in the French parcels officer, who with tongue, pencil and many diagrams began to explain the whereabouts of 6,012 French POW officers, members of IVD (the two camps have been administered separately though located together in Colditz). In the midst of all this, Monsieur Albert Cockatrix who was in charge of the convoy arrived. He had ten lorries, he said, each holding 960 parcels and driven by British POWs. M. Cockatrix was completely unaware that Oflag IVC also accommodated members of Oflag IVD. He had received instructions from Berlin that same morning to issue one parcel each to any P.O.W. he came across. (This did not deter him from leaving 9,600 parcels for approximately 6,500 prisoners—the combined strength of IVC and IVD.) We maintained that in view of the fact that we had received no direct consignment of parcels since April 1944, and that the S.B.O. received several letters from the Swiss Red Cross stating that various consignments were on the way to IVC, we were entitled to one load, i.e. 960, and the fact that IVD officers were being lodged in the Schloss did not materially effect the position. M. Cockatrix showed neither inclination or disposition to give a ruling. The French Parcels Officer remained adamant, hence an impasse was reached.

  After hours of interminable wrangling, the solution was reached: one and a half parcels per prisoner. Padre Platt, discussing the affair, concludes:

  The highlight of gossip in both circles was the interview General Daine sought with the S.B.O., which concluded with the General remarking with some asperity that “the English have always been a nation of shopkeepers.” The S.B.O. (who is a Scot) may or may not secretly sympathise with the point of view, but on this occasion he rose, and opening the door of his room (it was one of the cells opening on to the Hof) very politely said … “S’il vous plaît, Monsieur le Général,” at which the astonished General with great dignity rose and took his departure.

  The way things were going in the camp can be judged by the following record of “current prices in the Camp” on 5 April.

  Cigarettes

  £10 per 100

  Klim (dried milk)

  £13 per 1 lb. tin

  Flour

  £3 per 1/2 lb.

  Bread

  £9 per 2 kg loaf

  Coffee

  £5 per 2 oz tin

  Chocolate

  £10 per 1/4 lb. bar

  Early in April, Dick Howe’s wireless communiqués began to speak of General Patton’s and General Hodge’s armored spearheads, moving fast, driving deep into enemy territory.

  23

  In Spite of Darkness

  April 1945

  COLONEL “WILLIE” TOD, the SBO of the camp, came into his own as the man to be relied upon in a crisis. In the closing stages of the war he was recognized as the Senior Officer of the whole camp and represented all nationalities in the routine dealings with the Germans. He watched the mounting tide of chaos around the Castle with cool detachment, and, having the confidence of his own officers, he was able to handle the Germans with skill. He was all that a soldier should be.

  Dick Howe always remembered a short conversation he had had with him; it must have occurred in 1943. He had lost his son—killed fighting. The news had come to him, a helpless prisoner in Colditz. Dick had said, sympathetically, after some casual conversation: “I’m sorry, Colonel, about the news you’ve just had.”

  Tod replied simply, “It happens to soldiers.” There was a moment’s pause, then they had continued their discussion.

  Almost forgotten, as the tornado of world events swept across the globe and the Allied armies from west and east dashed headlong to meet each other in the heart of the German Reich, the Colditz glider was made ready for flight. Discussion centered around the use to be made of it. Dick had recently been criticized for allowing the building of the glider to proceed. Some Senior Officers objected on the ground that it was completed too late for use, saying that a better estimate of the time required to build it should have been made. They were correct in that the glider was finished too late to be of use for an escape, but they were speaking after the event. Others maintained it was a waste of good time and material from the very beginning. The answer to this was a simple one. None of the men even remotely connected with its production regretted what they had done. As for others, did it concern them?

  Nobody could foresee when the climax and conclusion of the war would occur. If it had not occurred in the spring of 1945, but months, p
erhaps even a year later, which was by no means impossible, then the glider would undoubtedly have been launched. Those who built it were prepared to fly in it. They were certain it would take off.

  Colonel Tod did not criticize. Even if he had wanted to, the discipline of a soldier forbade the criticism of junior officers who had been allowed to build the glider with the help of his own staff and with his own knowledge. On the contrary, Tod foresaw the possibility of a last and desperate use for the glider and issued his instructions accordingly: “The glider is to be held in reserve in strict secrecy until the Castle is liberated, or until you have further prior instructions from myself or my successor in command.”

  On 6 April, Lieutenant John Winant of the US Army Air Force arrived at the Castle from Meisberg, a camp near Munich. He, being the son of the American ambassador to the UK, was at once included as a Prominenter. His plane had been shot down over Munich. A fair-haired young man with steel-blue eyes and a strong, though sensitive character, he had gone to war straight from university.

  On 7 April, Padre Platt records:

  The number of French already gone to Zeitin [one of the places to which the French were moved from the East] is about 700. Those who remained in the camp chapel moved (evidently at request of Abbé de Maton, the Senior French Priest), to some of the rooms now vacated. The straw was cleaned from the chapel by willing workers, again at the request of the Abbé de Maton, but we were told there would be no time available for Protestant service.

  Then, on 10 April, a highly significant move by the Germans:

  Fountain pens, pocket knives with a spike, leather straps for valises, haversacks, and all the things we were not allowed to have in our possession as P.O.W.s were returned to us this morning after about five years. (4 years 11 months.)

  In the early afternoon of the same day a messenger arrived at Colditz from the Wilhelmstrasse, in Berlin, carrying an offer to General Bór Komorowski. The Kommandant conveyed to him the instructions of Hitler, to the effect that he should be freed at once along with his staff, who included General Pełcyzński, his Chief of Staff, and General Chrusciel, Commandant of the Warsaw Garrison, on condition that they helped Germany to form an underground army to fight against the Russians. It was the third time the offer had been made (the first was after his surrender in Warsaw), and for the third time the general rejected it.

  The SBO had an interview with the Kommandant the next day and pointed out that Colditz was becoming a battle zone. He asked the Kommandant what his intentions were. The reply was that he was awaiting orders from Himmler.

  The sentries around the perimeter remained at their posts. Ominously, in the foreground beneath the Castle, could be seen feverish preparations for the defense of the town. The bridge across the River Mulde was mined, ready for detonating. Tanks and motorized artillery rattled through the streets to positions in the woods around. Houses on the outskirts were taken over by troops and barricaded for defense.

  The unreality of it all continued to obsess the minds of men like Dick, who had looked down upon the quiet town without ever noticing a change during four and a half weary years. The scene had become so permanent, so indestructible, that nothing could change it; only in their dreams and reveries had the scene ever altered. When they awoke it was always there, the same as before, unchanged. The dreams of years had never materialized. Could it be different now?

  Eggers writes that the German Generalkommando (district Army Headquarters) had left Dresden and was now at Glauchau. On 12 April they ordered that the Prominenten (seven British, one American, and General Bór and his staff) should be transported by bus to Oflag IVA, the generals’ camp at Königstein. The transport, two buses, was to be sent on the receipt of the code word Heidenröslein (rock rose). The word came through in the early afternoon. The Kommandant decided not to act until all the prisoners had been locked up for the night.

  Padre Platt’s entry for that day reads:

  Armoured trucks, armoured cars, army reconnaissance cars, a few tanks, troop carriers, staff cars, have streamed over the bridge all towards Chemnitz and the South. It had all the appearance of an army in retreat. By 10a.m. we had a rumour of an American Army having reached the Elbe. By midday they were reported to have reached Halle, and by 3p.m. 12 miles from Leipzig. The camp was in a furore of excitement, and every inch of window space was crowded with leaning, crushing bodies. Artillery has been plainly heard since 1.30.

  The announcement of the death of President Roosevelt came over the air.

  2nd Lieut. Winant, U.S.A. Air Force, was put under orders to leave at 8.30a.m. tomorrow. This is most unpleasant for it may mean that he is to be held as a hostage. The Brigadier [Edmund Davies] and the S.B.O. have gone out to interview the Kommandant. There was present a representative from the German Foreign Office. Assurances were given to the S.B.O. that the Prominenten would not be moved or held as hostages.

  The defence preparations continued around the village more furiously. Slit trenches could be seen everywhere, thrown up, like mushrooms during the night, in the fields on the higher slopes and bordering the woods. Boys and girls of all ages could be seen at work with spades and pickaxes alongside their elders in uniform. The Germans looked as if they were going to make a serious stand in the country around the Castle.

  Later that evening, after all doors had been locked, Colonel Tod was called to the Kommandantur. He was accompanied by Brigadier Davies and Colonel Duke, with Lance Pope to interpret in case of difficulty. Oberst Prawitt, tall and emaciated, standing beside his desk in the plainly furnished office, looked at the commander of his prisoners. There was no softness in the answering glance. Tod stepped forward over the soft pile carpet and took from Prawitt’s hand the letter which he held out. It was a letter from Himmler’s headquarters, addressed from Himmler personally, but unsigned. It contained the marching orders for the Prominenten. They were to be removed that night to an unknown destination. Two buses would be waiting at the Kommandantur entrance at midnight. Oberst Prawitt would be answerable with his life if any of them escaped.

  Prawitt claimed that they were being moved for their own safety. Tod protested that sending them out into a battle zone was risking their lives. In any case, he said, everyone knew they were really hostages. Prawitt said that the SS was supplying the guard to protect them. “And who will protect them from the SS?” Tod retorted. He demanded that Prawitt ignore the order. Prawitt refused. He refused too to reveal the Prominenten’s destination. Tod said that the Kommandant and Eggers would answer to the Allies with their heads if the Prominenten were harmed. Eventually Prawitt agreed to send Eggers with the Prominenten, with orders to bring back a statement of safe arrival signed by each officer.

  Back in the prison, extra guards had already been mounted over the cells of the Prominenten.

  Colonel Tod was allowed to speak to them. He told their senior, Captain the Master of Elphinstone, of his conversation with the Kommandant, and advised him, at all costs, to fight for time, wherever they might find themselves. “The situation is changing hourly and in our favor,” he concluded, and then gave them a final word to cheer them, saying, “I’ve foreseen this eventuality for some time. You will not be deserted. The Swiss Protecting Power Authorities have had specific warning and requests to watch this camp and to follow the movement of any prisoners. They are in close contact with German authorities in Berlin, who are in the know. You will probably be followed by a representative in person, or, if not, your movements will be known in their Legation. You are being carefully watched. Goodbye and good luck to all of you.”

  Later Colonel Duke returned to Prawitt and insisted that if Lieutenant Winant were not taken off the list of Prominenten, he would be hidden in the Castle. The Kommandant pointed out that if he did that, the SS would enter the Castle and there would be shooting. Once in they would be glad to use the Castle to defend the town and the river crossing. Duke saw the point and that was that.

  At 1:30 a.m. the Prominenten were escorted to the
ir buses, Winant with them. As they were driven off, watched from the Castle windows by angry prisoners, Giles Romilly, in the British bus, said suddenly, “I thought you’d all like to know today is Friday the thirteenth.”

  Later that day, a written message was handed to Colonel Tod, signed by Elphinstone, saying the party had arrived safely at the castle of Königstein on the River Elbe; the same from which General Giraud had escaped to rejoin the Allies earlier in the war. Two of them, he added, Hopetoun and Haig, were seriously ill. They had been ill before they left, as the authorities knew well, and the journey had made their condition worse.

  On Saturday the 14th, in the afternoon, the Prominenten were moved, under heavy guard as before, from Königstein, through Czechoslovakia, to Klattau on the borders of Bavaria. There they spent the night. Hopetoun and Haig were left behind at Königstein being too ill to move. The German Kommandant had to obtain permission from Berlin to leave them. The sound of Allied guns could be heard as the two buses and the armored car left Königstein heading for Hitler’s redoubt in the Bavarian mountains.

  Sunday morning, in bright spring sunshine, the Prominenten were moved again. Now they headed towards Austria. As evening drew on, they arrived at Laufen on the River Salzach that divides Austria from Bavaria. They stopped outside the barracks, once the palace of the archbishops of Salzburg, and also the prison from which I and many others graduated to Colditz. The barracks, which, at the beginning of the war, had been Oflag VIIC, was now a civilian internee camp.

  Elphinstone as head of the British party refused to disembark. He was suspicious. The camp was not under Wehrmacht control, and responsibility for any outrage might be difficult to trace. Where he was, he was definitely under Wehrmacht control, facing an Army colonel who would pay with his head under Himmler’s orders if his prisoners escaped, and who would also pay with his head under Allied retribution if they disappeared by other means. The German colonel in charge agreed to take them to another camp at Tittmoning, ten miles away, occupied by Dutch officers.