To start with, I was taken prisoner at Cassel in France on the 27th of June 1940. I spent some time in a hospital in Camiers, near Bologne, having received shrapnel in the back and a bullet in the upper arm. I was then sent to a hospital in Torcoing, Belgium. Incidentally, it was from the nuns of this hospital that my mother first received news that I was alive. Previous to this, she had received a telegram from the War Office Missing believed killed.
As soon as I was judged capable of walking, I was taken from the hospital and, together with about fifty or so British and about three thousand French, put on a train, (cattle trucks) and taken to Holland where we were loaded onto barges and sailed down the Rhein to Germany. We received one mouldy, and I mean mouldy, loaf of black bread between five men which we were told was to last us for four days. At least it was a change from the light hospital diet of two biscuits and half a cup of soup per day - this was no fault of the nuns as things were so chaotic that food distribution was difficult at the time.
Eventually, after passing through Wesermund and several other small towns, we disembarked and entrained for Dortmund and found ourselves billeted in the sporspalast (Sports palace). Here I met my first Polish soldiers - I had already met Polish civilians in Lens, nr Douai, N.France. In fact, one of them already used to call me Son-In-Law, that was Marisia Bednark's father.
I believe we stayed about three weeks in Dortmund and then onto the train again, this time going straight through to Berlin. After marching us down the Unter den Linden, we were again put on the (cattle) train and this time through to Poland. The first intimation we had that we were in Poland was while we were standing in the station of Posen, a civilian shouted to us You are in Poland now Tommy. Of course he must have been a Pole because the Germans claimed it as part of Germany. The very name in Polish for Posen (Posnan) proclaims it a Polish town. Posnac meaning in Polish to recognize. Obviously, it was a town to mark the recognition of the border between Germany and Poland.
We detrained in Torun (German, Thorn) in the Polish corridor this being the location of Stalag XXA. Stammlager is the full term for Stalag, Stamm being the German for Stem or Stalk, main branch, and Lager the German for Camo. I was first of all taken to Fort 14. the Stalag hospital. To have my wounds dressed, and then I was accommodated in Fort 17, the biggest Fort.
The whole Stalag comprised of old Polish forts, each fort having central compound or courtyard, and the body of forts running around it. A communicating tunnel ran right through the body of the fort, and the walls were usually streaming from condensation, and so dark that the small powered lights were totally inadequate, so that if one met a negro walking along the tunnel (as I did once) one only saw the whites of his teeth and eyes.
This Stalag, as the name implies, was only a sort of staging or holding Camp, and from here working parties were sent out. These parties were called Arbeit Kommados. Of course, there was a permanent Staff of British personnel who dealt with mail supplies and general administration, and a good job they seemed to have, I can tell you. They would be for sure some of the first prisoners to arrive there.
As for the rest, it was every ones ambition to get out on a working party. First of all an outside working party offered the best chance of getting away. Secondly, there were stories of jobs on farms where one got a decent meal, and that was no small consideration since the food in Stalag (except for the Permanent Staff) was pretty grim. At last the day came when my name was called out and I found I would be going along with nine others to a State Farm called Linitz. Since we were the first POWs they had had, we had great expectations or fears. On arriving at Linitz, we were met by the Farmer or Chef (Chief) at the railway station and taken to the farm and shown our quarters. The guard would be billeted in the farmhouse itself, but we were prisoners, and had a cottage which had a bar fitted across the door and bars to the windows and also several strands of barbed wire outside, leaving us a compound of about 60 sq yds., for exercise.
The Chef turned out to be quite a descent chap and he told us we were the first British POWs he had seen. In fact, he told us a long time afterwards that on that first Sunday when we arrived his Mother came out to have a look at us and she said to him afterwards "Why they don't look any different to us. If they were in civilian clothes, no-one would be able to tell that they are not Germans".
All in all, it was a great change for the better. Food was as good as could be expected for POWs. For breakfast we had brown bread and turnip jam - ask Mummy what that is like. Better than Stalag by a long shot. Our midday meal was usually taken in the fields and consisted of more brown bread with Ersatz coffee. About 4.30 pm we had what was called 'vespers (tea meal) which consisted of more brown bread, and Ersatz coffee. Later on, we returned from work in the fields for 'Abend brot', or 'Evening Bread' that is to say 'supper'. That was the best meal of the day. A large bowl, ordinary, enamel wash basin full of mashed potatoes and milk noodle soup and of course with the home made brown bread. After the arrival of Red Cross parcels we were able to supplement these meals with something better. But believe me, they were considered very good meals in themselves and I can say that was about the best Kommando that I went on.
It wasn't long before we began to think about escape plans and in this we were fortunate enough to have the help of the inspector of the farm. He would be the equivalent of a foreman or overseer. He was a Polish National, and although he was a Volksdeutscher - that is to say had taken out papers for German citizenship having been born on German soil - he still remained a Pole at heart.
It was eventually decided that three of us would make the escape bid - Rawlinson (Bucks Battn), Dunsmore (?), and myself. We had information that the potatoes we were loading up at the railway station were destined for France - it being the policy of the Germans to exchange seed potatoes from country to country. Our first inclination was to stow away in one of the trucks containing the murphys and get to France, but we found out through the inspector that the wagons would pass very close to the Swiss border. Of course that was an opportunity not to be missed. The next step was to see about getting civilian clothes. Here we met our first snag. To get even an outfit for one would be extremely difficult, but for three where we were situated would be extremely unlikely. Maybe with time but that was one thing we were going to be short on owing to the fact that very soon the quota of potatoes would have been fulfilled.
We decided we would have to dye our battle dress, remove the epaulets, (for a good silhouette), and also to dye our pajamas. Of course we would be travelling mostly by freight train packed away with the potatoes, and it was intended to break out of the trucks at a certain point on the map when the train would be toiling up a gradient. We had calculated that it would be about ten o-clock at night and dark thus leaving us plenty of time to cross the border. This would mean that the only people to see us in our dyed clothes would be the Swiss Border Guards - we hoped.
Now we had to look around for a receptacle in which to dye our clothes. This was a poser, apart from the fact that we would have to be in the cottage instead of out at work. The guard was a Rheinlander and quite a good chap, but we couldn't see him helping us to escape. Our first plan was to have someone report sick, remain behind in the cottage and dye the uniforms while the others were at work. That was because of the danger of the Control Officer paying us an unexpected visit. Then we had it, of course, we would dye them in the boiler in which we cooked our evening meal, and during the night after the guard had locked us up for the night. We got the dye from one of the Poles in exchange for Red Cross coffee, and we began operations.
At last we had everything ready. We ground up chocolate and biscuits from our Red Cross parcels and made a powder of it to facilitate carrying. Shaving kit, needle and cotton, etc, and we considered ourselves as ready as we could be under the circumstances and only just in time, for the inspector told us that the next load of potatoes would be the final one.
At last came the day, and we three escapees were detailed to be among the party that would go to the station to load up the spuds. The procedure was to fill the truck only three quarters full leaving room for straw to be packed in. The windows of the trucks were then nailed across from the outside - we planned to kick them out from the inside when the time came. The inspector having gone ahead came racing back and told us the attempt would have to be dropped as there was a detachment of German soldiers on duty at the station. This we could hardly believe since the station in question was hardly more then a Halt, but when we got to the station we discovered that he was telling the truth. It appeared that 50 officers had escaped from a Luftlager (Air-Force Camp) and troops had been sent to guard all railway stations. However, we decided that if we had the chance we would still go, even if it meant under the German's noses. Just imagine our disgust when one of the Germans came up and insisted on giving us a hand. A real Yokel he was too and very, very friendly. He gave us a cigarette each but that didn't help us at all. He stayed and even helped us to seal the wagons. That was it. We drove back to the camp very dis-spirited. Still and all, there were other days ahead.
The next news we had was that Mikser the German Quartermaster would be visiting us within the next week to inspect uniforms. We had recently received new ones through the Red Cross, and with ours dyed, what a panic. We began working on the bars of the cottage window and gradually loosening it until we were able to remove it at a moments notice, and replace it so that the guard would not notice anything amiss.
The night we were leaving was a fairly dark one. We wait until the guard had locked up for the night, and we began to prepare our bundles and dress. At last we were all ready. The seven remaining behind pressed little gifts onto us and asked us to memorize addresses in case we should succeed in our attempt. Then, removing the bar (which the others replaced after we had gone), we dropped out onto the farmyard. Suddenly, a dark shape loomed up. I thought "this is it" and crouched down hoping we hadn't been noticed, but we needn't have worried, it was the farm dog Treff. Instead of giving the alarm, he wagged his tail and insisted on accompanying us until we chased him back.
It's hard to describe the feeling of being free to someone who has never been imprisoned. It was a great feeling. I actually rolled over on the ground in joy. No-one standing over us to tell us what to do or where to go and so on.
We had already decided that we were going to try and reach the Polish partisans. This meant striking out east instead of west. Having studied the Polish map, we knew we would have to strike south-east. We knew eventually that we would come against the river Vistula which runs down from Danzig (Gnansk) and meandered southwards until it reached Thorn, (Polish, Torun) then swept round in a bow to the East through Warsaw. Our reasoning was that if we came up with the Vistula we had only to follow it and arrive in Warsaw. We felt that for sure that we would contact the Polish partisans before that.
The first night we kept well away from roads moving across country. We had several needless frights through mistaking a solitary bush for a man in SS uniform. Walking across fields in the dark can be very deceptive to the eyes. A main road on the horizon will appear to be a hedgerow a few yards in front or vica versa, a hedgerow can seem to be a main road in the distance.
We didn't worry about a search party looking for us yet as we counted on the Guard not discovering that we had gone until next morning when he came to wake the boys up. We hoped to be at least twenty miles away by then. We stopped after about two hours travelling for a drink from the single bottle we carried and a spoonful of crushed biscuit and chocolate. Then, on again, stumbling sometimes over ploughed fields, sometimes finding it better going over smoother terrain. I think we had all had enough when we noticed that the sky was getting lighter, dawn wasn't far off. This meant that we would have to look for a place to get shacked down for the night. At last after several false starts, we found a haystack and since it appeared to be in a pretty lonely spot we crawled up into the centre on top, covering our tracks as we went. Beautiful and warm, we didn't take long settling down, having first picked straws to see who would have the first watch. I was lucky, I got the last one. It was already 6.30 am and getting lighter. I was asleep in about two minutes only to be woken up by shouting. I saw Rawlinson making motions to be quiet and then I realized what the shouting was. It was Polish farm workers taking their horses and wagons out into the fields. I then saw what we had failed to see when we arrived there. About three hundred yards away, behind the hill, was a large farm, obviously a State farm. Anyway we didn't worry too much. No-one would be coming for hay from this stack as we could see several other stacks nearer to the farm, we hoped anyway. Dunsmore woke me about 10.45 am to do a two hour stint. So the day passed with several false alarms, such as once two of the Polish drivers stopped their wagons and came under the stack and sat down for a smoke. Although my Polish wasn't too good at the time, I could tell they were slinging off about the Vorarbeiter (leading hand).
As soon as it was dark, we decided to make a move. The first thing on the agenda was to find some water as we had drunk the bottle dry. We also felt like a wash and shave, if possible. We took off at a fairly brisk pace, still moving across country, as we didn't think it safe enough yet to take to the roads. We had since noticed that Dunsmores pajamas hadn't taken the dye in one place, and he looked a real convict, especially as he had a heavy beard and needed a shave. About an hour later we had a shave and then kept moving until in the south-west we could see a glow in the sky, which we thought must be Thorn. We knew then that we were on the right track. Then suddenly..., disaster. We walked into a bog, and to make it worse two of us fell into a pool, not very deep, but smelling of peat. We could see what we had stumbled into. It was a peat digging place, we could now see the peat stacked up ready for carrying away. I should think we had to detour about three miles to get away from that swamp.
After we had been moving for about two hours, we came across a steep bank and found that it led down to a swift flowing river so we decided to find a bridge. We followed the bank all night and just as misty daylight was breaking we saw the bridge. The fog by this time was getting quite thick. This was good for us because as we moved up onto the road crossing over the bridge, a man went past on a bike. He didn't see us but when he was about halfway across we heard a voice say "Halt!" and through the mist we could just make out the shape of a sentry box and there was soldier examining the cyclists s papers. We did a very quiet retreat and vanished into the fog back along the river bank. Half an hour later we saw a small copse of fur trees. In fact, they were young ones and fairly compact. That would be our resting up place for the rest of the day. We washed in the river and shaved with cold water, then a meal of our crushed sustenance and having agreed on the watch roster, settled down to sleep. I remember waking once, apart from my watch, and that was only for a minute and straight off to sleep again. We had a meal again about five and a smoke until it began to get dark and then off again.
We hadn't been on the move for more than five minutes when we heard someone whistling. We drew back into the bushes and began to see if we could locate the whistler. Then we saw why. From the other side of the river, a ferry boat came gliding out of the twilight.
It was one of those passenger boats which are moved by a pulley on a rope across the river. The boat didn't take off immediately and then heard them talking in Polish and two more passengers came hurrying down the bank. Just as he was casting off I made up my mind. I said 'Come on, this is our chance' and we all three ran down the bank and went on board. The boatsman was a boy of about 16 years. As we stood there waiting to be taken across, the boy said 'Pusch' and the other passengers repeated it, all looking at us and making motions with their hands. Then an old lady said in German 'Lo~ Lassen' (Let it loose, or let it go) and I then realised that Rawlinson had a grip on the rope along which a pulley ran. This was preventing the boat from moving. He let go and the boat moved off. Then we reached the other bank, the people disembarked and I saw that the people were paying the boy. We had no money with which to pay so I waited until they had all got off and were vanishing into the night (it was quite dark by now) and I gave him five cigarettes. He looked at the cigarettes and then at us, then he brought his hand up in a Polish salute.
A fairly steep hill ran from the place where we had got off the boat, and we overtook the old lady. I asked her in German what the name of the Village was which we could see just ahead at the top of the hill but she said in a snappish voice and in perfect German, I don't understand German, then in Polish the same thing. I decided to take a chance and told her we were escaped POWs but she took some convincing. Eventually she called out to someone as soon as we got to the top of the hill and two men came over and one of them could speak German. I told him who we were, at the same time we were ready to belt him one and run for it if it turned out that they would try and hold us. However, I could soon see that his German wasn't too good at that. He didn't seem to believe us that we were not Germans ourselves until I showed him the tattoos on my arm and the word 'Mother', I think that convinced him, because he said 'Komm' (come) so we followed them over to a house and he gave a special sort of knock on the door. Instead of the door opening, a giant of a man came out from some bushes at the side of the house. After a short conversation in Polish with the two men, he shook hands with us and made motions for us to follow him round the back of the house. Again, a special knock and the door opened and we passed in.
What a fuss they made of us. I think the word must have got around already because every few minutes there would be that knock and people would come in until I think the whole village was there, children as well. Their spokesman, the one who spoke German, told us we were now in Congress Poland, the part of Poland which had not been annexed by the Germans. They had their own police and didn't very often see the Germans in their little village. However, they had men out on every road keeping a look out in case any Germans came.
We had some Red Cross cocoa in our kit so we asked them if we could have some hot water. We told them it was to make cocoa, they said no, cocoa must be made with milk. Everyone crowded around to catch the aroma of the cocoa as it was made. Then we asked for a jug and we made a jug of cocoa for them. They were delighted, but they gave it to their children. They asked, if we got through safely, to tell Mr Churchill that it wasn't their fault that Poland was defeated, they said to tell him that they had no modern weapons to fight with, if only he would drop some English weapons they would soon have the Germans running. There were about ten girls among the crowd and each one seemed to vie with the rest in providing for our comforts. One of the men suddenly grabbed one of the girls, we ended up with a girl on each knee, and one hanging round our necks. I must say that where ever I've been in Poland they have always done everything they could to see to our future comforts. Just as we were getting along fine, another visitor arrived, and after a whispered conversation with the big man, made signs for us to accompany him along with two other men. The German speaker told us it would be alright, they were good Poles, so off we went.
After passing the last cottage we entered a garden, and one of the men went forward and we were asked to stay with the others. As our eyes became accustomed to the dark we could make out the outline of what appeared to be quite a large mansion. Then suddenly, the man was back again, and we all moved forward in the direction of the house or mansion. We were taken inside and introduced to a distinguished looking man - I judged him to be about 70 or more. Speaking in beautiful German he told us that when he was younger he had learned English but always got it mixed with German now, and felt more at home speaking German as he had been an Officer in the German Army (that was when the part of Poland where he was born came under Germany) then he had been an Officer in the Polish Army in the Great War. He was very thirsty for news, not the German propaganda, he said. He had no doubt whatsoever that we would win the war eventually, but he said the Germans are very strong at the moment and we would need time to build up. He had, no doubt, a very high regard for the British Tommy. He told us that 'his people' didn't have much to give us, but what they had they would willingly give. We told him all we needed was shelter for the night and information. He then called out to a woman (his maid) and she soon came back with coffee and what looked like apple strudel. He apologized for the coffee, that it was only Ersatz. We chatted for a while and then he gave us the name of a village to learn, and told us to ask for Janek the Kutcher, that was all. He wouldn't let us write it down. He said it was better off in our heads.
We were then taken back to the cottage and found the girls had made up beds for us, but enough of that. Next morning, when we got up, we found that our clothes had been washed and pressed. Not only that, they had got Dunsmore a pair of trousers that weren't a bad fit either and had burnt the pajamas. We had a shave with hot water this time. The whole village turned out to see us off. In fact, one young chap walked with us until we came across the next village. The people had told us that we would be quite safe now travelling by day, provided we kept our eyes open for the odd German.
That night we spent in a forest where just as we were settling down and debating whether or not it would be safe to light a fire, we were discovered by an old chap of at least 80. He came trudging along with a huge bundle of wood on his back, so we lay well back in the bush, thinking he had not seen us. He came level, turned his head in our direction and called something in Polish. Then, as we didn't answer, he came back and pointing to us and asked, 'Niemcy' (Germans). I told him 'Niet! Anglieki' (No, British). He was delighted. He took us back further into the forest where he had a sort of shelter made from faggots of wood laid across a framework made from the limbs of trees. He could speak no German, but with my broken Polish and our hands, we got along fine. We gave him some of our chocolate and biscuit crunch. I think the only thing he knew in German was Berlin. At intervals he would look over at us and draw something on the ground, point to it and say Boom, Boom, Boom and roll on the ground, hugging himself with laughter. When he laughed, having no teeth and his face a brown mass of wrinkles, his mouth seemed to disappear and we could just make out his little blue eyes. We christened him Rumpelstiltzkin. I tried to find out from him whether there were any partisans in the forest, but all we could get was partisanski and he would make motions of shooting and say 'Niemcy' (Germans) but we couldn't get out of him where they were. We asked him if he knew the lay of the village, the name of which we had memorised from the Polish Colonel. When he heard the name he nodded his head.
Next morning we tried again asking him in which direction the village lay. He made motions for us to follow him and away he went, and how he could walk - he'd have put many an infantryman to shame. We walked for about two hours, and coming out into a clearing we stopped. He pointed out where our track divided, and pointing to the right hand track said 'Zhelony Lec' (the Village) and there we parted. We could still see him standing there and waving as we entered the forest again.
We had been walking for about two hours when we decided to stop for a restorer as the last hour we had been walking and had expected to see the village at any moment. We were beginning to think that there had been some sort of a misunderstanding with Rumpelstiltzkin however, after a short rest, we got moving again.
Dunsmore began to complain that his heel was hurting so we examined his heel and found he had a nasty blister. There was only one thing to do and that was to cut out a piece of his boot where it was rubbing. It gave him some relief.
Just as we were beginning to think of another rest, we came upon the village tucked away in the forest in a small clearing. We studied it first, to see if there were any Germans in sight, but not seeing any and hearing only Polish spoken we decided to risk it and go in.
We approached a young chap who had his hands full with a young calf. I asked him if he could speak German. He replied, 'Niet'. Then I pointed to us and said the magic word 'Anglieki' and asked for 'Janek the Kutcher'. He said something to a girl who stood gaping at us, and she shot off and returned with a cavalcade behind her. Janek was leading the parade. He was a man of about forty odd, corn blond hair, slight build, and approximately 5 foot 8 inches in height with a very pale face.
We told him who we were and also that the Colonel had told us to ask for him. As soon as we described the Colonel, he knew who we were talking about. From then on it was a replica of the other village. We were given our pick of the girls in the village, but we were so tired all we wanted was a safe place to sleep. Janek arranged for each of us to sleep in with a family. They gave me some mashed potatoes with blueberries collected from the forest. The family I was with couldn't do enough for me. They would have kept me talking all night but for the fact that Helena (the daughter) noticed that I was falling asleep, and they let me go to bed. The fact that I was the only one with a smattering of Polish probably had something to do with the fact that the others had got off early to sleep. Janek came early next morning to tell me to tell the others that he had to leave on very important business, but he had left instructions for our guidance.
I explained to the others when we awoke that Janek had had to leave. Everyone in the village came to wish us luck before they went to their places of work. Then, we were told that a 'Stara Dama' (old lady) who could speak German would be coming to give us our instructions. As it turned out, when she came, her German was practically non-existent. In fact, thinking back, we'd have been better off if she had told me Polish. The only thing I could glean was to follow the track she would show us, and to watch out for radio masts as they would be German houses. This, of course, we knew since the Poles were not allowed to have radios. They pressed packets of sandwiches on us and two bottles of vodka (home brewed). The Poles call it Samogonka meaning pure fire, and it sure is.
After leaving these good people, we again entered the forest and made good time. I estimate that we had been walking for about 5 or 6 hours with periodical rests. I know it was some time in the afternoon when we came across a forester's hut. We decided we wouldn't move any further that day but to wait for twilight and then see how far we could get. We had also been told that the best time to contact the Partisans would be in the evening or during the night as they were fairly active at those times. We lost the track once, and that is all it was although it was supposed to be a road.
The moon came up which we thought would be an advantage for us as it would allow us to see further when we came to clearings. Of course, conversation was kept to a minimum and a whisper at that. Suddenly, we came to one of those clearings but instead of seeing the usual isolated cottage we saw a huge block that in the moonlight looked like an aircraft hanger. We crept as close to it as we could. We could hear a conversation some of which I recognized as Polish and the rest very similar to Polish which I assumed (and rightly too as we later learned) to be Ukrainian. Then, without warning, there was a flash of light as the door was opened and one of the inmates of the building came out with a bucket. We could see that he was heading for the pump which we now saw was about two yards from where we were standing and therefore there was nothing for it but to face him. When he was almost on top of us I stood up and said 'Nie boyishsya Pan' (don't be afraid). I could have saved my breath. He dropped the bucket and with a loud yell ran as fast as he could back into the building. In consequence, a herd of people came rushing out with burning pieces of wood as torches and coming as close as they dared. They asked who we were. I then explained and they conducted us to the hanger place and at the same time telling us not to worry as there were no Germans about until next morning.
The building consisted of one long room I should say about twenty-five yards long and on one side it had been screened the whole length. We could see why. All along the length of the room behind the screens, we could see female faces peering at us. In no time at all, they had dressed and we were surrounded by a mob of both men and women trying to shake our hands. They told us that they were part of a huge arb Kommando, engaged in making a motor road about five kilometres away. They told us their food wasn't bad. They got one loaf of bread to last one person two days. To us that sounded to good to be true but then I realized that they would be on heavy work rations and also they were not prisoners in the true sense of the word.
They piled all sorts of food onto us, even eggs which they seemed to have in abundance. They explained that they knew all the Polish farmers in the district and they could get things that the Germans could not. They could see that we were a bit uneasy the way we kept glancing at the door but they told us not to worry and then their Barrack Leader took me to the door and pointing into the darkness he gave a low call which was immediately answered. I knew then he was demonstrating that a watch had been posted. Reassured, we settled down to eat the meal one of the women or should I say a crowd of women had prepared for us. Each of us had enough to blow out two horses, not that it was horse food. The usual mashed potatoes, eggs mashed into the potatoes, some blueberries, pieces of smoked bacon, (where that came from, God knows) and of course the brown bread and Ersatz coffee.
We asked about Partisans. They could tell us plenty about the activities of the groups of Partisans operating in the area, but the most essential thing, how to contact them, they did not know. They told us the same thing we had been told before, 'walk in the forest at night and make plenty of noise'. I asked won't that attract plenty of Germans but they said no, the Germans were afraid to go into the forest at night time, unless they were in plenty of numbers.
They insisted on us having a sleep there and told us they would call us in plenty of time before the Germans came, who we now learned were civilians and not military. As I said before, they were not prisoners and it was a civilian undertaking they were working on. I woke several times during our short nap as they had kept us talking into the small hours, hungry for the news and also comparing the German propaganda with what we told them was the truth. For instance, we knew that the sixth Army had been encircled at Stalingrad but the German public had not been let into the picture yet.
Somewhere about five o'clock, I woke to find everyone already up and dressed. They told us that the Germans would be coming at six with a lorry to take them to the work site. Everyone of them, women as well (they kissed us), shook hand and wished us well. They gave us stack of smoked bacon sandwiches. I think they must have pinched a pig from somewhere. Of course that wouldn't be anything new, and the German, if he knew about it would keep his mouth shut because he would have a share too.
Back we went into the forest. We spent half that day resting up and gathering wild strawberries of which there were plenty. We also finished off the Vodka we had been given.
A stroke of luck. A Polish farmer came along with a cartload of potatoes. As soon as he saw us, he called to us and I found that he spoke some German. He told us he had called in at the Barrack where we had spent the night as he knew one of the Poles there who was a local and a friend. His friend happened to be on (subedient) room duty, otherwise he wouldn't have known us. He invited us to jump aboard and he would give us a lift for the next six miles. Before we left him, I asked whether we could have a few potatoes. He told us to fill our bag and pockets so we stuffed potatoes inside our jackets and then we began walking again.
Since we had left the farmer, we had been walking in more open country and as twilight was falling we began to look for a place to spend the night, but Dunsmore by this time could hardly walk. I then noticed that where his boot had been rubbing on his heel (in spite of the piece we had cut off his boot) another blister had formed and was turning septic. A blue line ran up to his groin. He now confessed he had been in agony since the day before. We held a conference and the decision was that he must surrender himself in order to get treatment. The story would be that each had gone their separate ways after leaving the farm. We worked out a plan whereby Dunsmore would go up to the nearest isolated house and offer to surrender there. If they tried any rough stuff we would run out from the darkness where we would be lying and help him.
The first house we came to had one solitary light burning but as Dunsmore knocked on the window the light went out and then silence. He knocked for about a quarter of an hour but no-one came so we told him to try the next one we came to. We crept up to the next farmhouse and Dunsmore advanced and knocked at the door. What a shock! The window flew open and a shotgun appeared. A voice said or roared in German 'Geh weg' (go away). Dunsmore went on to explain the situation but the man wouldn't let him in or open the door and just said go to the next village to the Gendarmerei (Police). We think this farmer must have been a German or German sympathizer who probably thought we were Polish Partisans.
On we went. Dunsmore was being helped along by both of us. At last, somewhere in front we could make out a slight glow. As we came nearer, we could see that it came from a house which turned out to be the first house of a village. We could see several more faint lights now. Dunsmore entered the Village, and Rawlinson (or Bobby as we called him) stayed back in the darkness with me. We lay there for about an hour and then not having heard any uproar decided that he had managed to give himself up safely.
It was time now for us to move on. After we had left the village some ten miles behind us, we felt safe enough to settle down for a sleep. This we did in a small copse after a meal of sandwiches (Dunsmore had given us his). Next morning we realized that the countryside we were passing through was more closely settled than the day before and we would have to take the risk of walking through the villages. I sensed that we could not be to far from Warsaw as small towns and villages were more frequent. I thought the risk here wouldn't be too great as the people here were not so well dressed as in the Polish corridor and we wouldn't look so out of place. If we tried to travel by night in this closely settled area we would look suspicious. We hoped at least once we got to Warsaw we would get in contact with someone who would lead us to the Polish underground movement. So be it. We'd stick our necks out a bit.
We had been travelling about two hours and had passed through several small towns or villages, apparently unsuspected, when we took a small side road. The road appeared to veer round a small market town. When coming over the crest of the hill Bobby said 'just keep walking, this house is German. I could then see the radio antenna. Then, on my right, I saw another one. I said 'so is this one' so we just kept walking in case anyone should be looking out of the windows. It wouldn't do to turn back. Right then I saw it. A big board and a notice saying German Settlement No 256' or some number. At the same time, I saw three men standing right on the road. We would have to pass them.
I said we couldn't turn back and would have to bluff it out as I realized we had stumbled into a 'German nest'. I calmly greeted the men as we passed with the Nazi greeting "Heil Hitler" and they answered causally and carried on talking. I thought "just let us get round the bend and we'll be safe". Well, we reached the last houses of the settlement without an alarm being raised, and passed the final big barn. The country side here was gently undulating and began to climb as we followed the road out of the settlement, then down again, then up again, each time going slightly higher so that as one looked back one had a panoramic view of the whole settlement.
At last the time had come. I could see way back below us on the track three men and with the movement of their white shirt sleeves, could see that they were running after us. At the same time, I could see men on horseback going out to the right and left. How had we given ourselves away? That we would learn in time. I said to Bobby "Don't let on that we have seen them. Just keep walking at the same pace until we get over the crest then we'll run at a tangent." As we topped the crest, we saw a beautiful sight, a forest only about three hundred yards away. As soon as we got below the crest, we dashed off at a tangent. Our reasoning being that they would be expecting to see us a short distance in front of them, thinking that we had not seen them.
The field we were running across had been ploughed and then had frozen hard which made it difficult to run through. We had run no more then three hundred yards when Bobby said "I can't make it. I'm going to hide in that copse". He then revealed he also had a blister on his heel and to make matters worse he had just turned his ankle on the ploughed up ground. Well, I wasn't going to leave him now so we threw ourselves down in the copse in the undergrowth. A few minutes later we heard the thud of feet and panting breath. Then we heard "Verfluchtemal, sie sind' veschwundun" (curse it, they have vanished). Then we heard one of them say "quick, in the forest" but just then a kiddies voice shouted "Achtung, da" (attention, there) and then they were all round the copse and shouting "stehen sie auf, hande hoch" (stand up, hands up) and although I knew they couldn't see us, they began firing into the undergrowth. After a couple of bullets came close to our heads, we thought the time had come to risk standing up. By now there were about fifteen of them. The first words they said to us "Are you Russians"? I told them who we were. Then they said to bring Karl "Weil er English, sprecht", and so up came Karl. We repeated in English what I had already told them in German. He then told us that his wife also spoke English, as she was an English teacher, or teacher of English. He then turned to the others and told them that he was convinced we were what we purported to be. It wasn't to be as easy as that. One of the crowd, who lucky for all of us had no revolver, insisted that we were Russians. His reasoning being that some of the Russian officers were taught English in their spy schools. He asked someone to give him a revolver and he would shoot us and take the responsibility, but the others told him to be quiet and that if he wanted to do some shooting to volunteer for the Russian front. Just at that moment a policeman arrived on a bike. He drew his revolver and also asked "Are they Russians?". On being told we were British, he put away his revolver and gave a salute to us and asked us whether or not we were two of the officers who had escaped from the Luftlager. I asked him "Haven't you caught them all then yet?". "Oh, yes!" he said. I then asked him why then had he asked us if we were two of them. He then smiled and told all the civilians to go home and asked us to accompany him. Back we went to the settlement and from there to a small town a few kilometres away. He locked us up in separate cells - very small cells they were. The trouble was I had matches and cigarettes but Bobby had no matches.
About two hours later the policeman came to see whether we would like a wash but I told him I was going to report the fact that we had been locked up like criminals for doing our duty as soldiers. He was very apologetic about it, and asked us if we had any objections to being held in the Police Station at the Settlement where he worked. We said "No". He then said he would not lock us up as the other policemen were all coming on duty and the Hauptman (Captain) would be coming as well.
The Police Station was a great improvement on the cells. For one thing, they were much cleaner. In fact, it was spotless with polished oaken furniture. When the Captain arrived he was accompanied by a Lieutenant and both Officers greeted us quite warmly. We thought that since we were now together we would be able to have a smoke so I asked one of the policemen if we would be able to have a cigarette. He said "Mein Gott, Nein!" (My God, No!). He then went on to say that even they were not allowed to smoke in the office, however, I then asked the Hauptman. He said "Certainly, sit down and smoke." A little while later the Captain came over to me and whispered "tell your friend to ask for a drink as I've something to tell you". Mystery...? I told Bobby and when he asked for drink the Hauptman pointed to one of the policemen and told him to take Bobby out the back for a drink. As soon as they had gone out the back Hauptman, Lieutenant and other policemen crowded around me and said "We are all Austrians, and he is the German", pointing out the back where Bobby had gone for a drink. They wanted to know what the real news was, and if it was true what the Germans say that if the Allies win the war, Austria will become a part of the Russian Empire. I told them that was nonsense. This pleased them no end. We were not put back into cells but were allocated a room in the police station where the policeman on duty spent most of the evening with us. He even shared his sandwiches with us and some blueberry pie that his wife had made.
Next morning we were told that the Guard would be coming for us from Stalag XXa. I think the police were more anxious than we were to see what sort of a guard we would get because it had been known for bad guards to shoot prisoners and say they were trying to escape again. When the train arrived in the afternoon we all watched from the windows of the police station, and we saw the guard coming up the pathway and one of our Policemen said "Oh well." The guard truly looked like a real savage brute. To try and make it easier on us the Hauptman, after greeting him, said "Well, you can't blame the Tommies for trying to escape. After all, they are soldiers doing their duty". The guard smiled and said "It's my permanent duty bringing them back when they get caught. I had to go to France a couple of weeks ago". He turned out to be a real gentleman. As we were on the point of leaving, we were saying goodbye to the Police outside the Police Station when quite a few of the Germans from the settlement gathered around. Some of these people I recognised as our captors. One of them said "Why do you try to escape? It s dangerous outside. Your safer in the Stalag." I told him it was a soldiers duty to escape and asked him whether he thought the German soldiers who were POWs in England would try to escape. Of course that brought them all on my side. There were loud cries of "Of course they do, the Tommies were only doing their duty." With that we departed for the train.
Once on the train, the guard really relaxed. He even went so far to take his boots off. So far we had the compartment to ourselves but at the next stop, a crowd of Polish girls went to come into our compartment. On seeing the guard, they went to back away but he called them in. When they found out who we were, they asked the guard if they could give us some lollies. He not only agreed but also told the girls to sit on our laps. He said "the poor devils don't get much female company where they are."
Arriving at Stalag XXa, we were immediately put in Fort 16 or The Bunker, as it was called. This was surrounded by a moat and one entered across a drawbridge. Then we were locked in a room where we found there were already eight other people awaiting trial or serving sentence. Our Warder wasn't a bad sort of chap considering the tricks we used to play on him. For instance, when he would come for "appel" (roll call), he would unlock the door, line us up and begin to count ein, zwei, drei, vier, etc and the end man would creep back behind the others and join on where we had already counted. He would say "Donnerwtter, one short" and back he would go to start counting again. This time someone would creep down from the opposite end and he would find he had one to many. At last he would give up and write down the figure he was supposed to have. He never seemed to to catch on.
One would spend perhaps two or three days in the Bunker before being taken up to the Kommandantur to be vernommen (interrogated). We were duly marched in front of the Kommandant and asked why we had escaped. Of course the correct reply was "My duty as a Soldier". The unwise reply was to say "because the work was too hard" or "not enough food" or the most henious "we don't wish to work". Any one of these answers could earn from two to seven years jail whereas the first drew an obligatory seven days for the first offence, fourteen the next, twenty-one for the third and the fourth attempt one could be sent to Falkenberg, a special camp for inveterate escapees.
We were then taken to be vernommen which meant that all the details of our escape attempt were taken down in writing and this statement was signed by us and then sent to the Protecting Powers in Switzerland. After the war, I was to sight these papers again in London where I was asked to fill in the blanks - that is to say the names of anyone who had helped us during our escape or contrary wise anyone who had betrayed us.
When the interrogating officer asked us how we had crossed the river Dreventz into Congress Poland, we told him we had swum across, not wishing to mention the Ferry. He looked at us in an old fashioned way and said "You maintain that you swam the Dreventz". Of course we stuck to our story. He then said we must indeed be powerful swimmers to have crossed the Dreventz, especially at the time of the year. In fact, if we were such good swimmers he would like to see us swim the Vistula the next morning and asked if we were ready to make an attempt. We called his bluff. Of course we heard no more about crossing the Vistula.
We were sentenced to seven days in the Bunker and in due course returned there. We ended up in the same cell along with all the others. We soon got into the routine of things. Every third day was what was called a bad day, that is to say one was supposed to be locked in solitary and the rations was plain bread and water instead of the usual Bunker ration which was meagre enough. In spite of this, on looking back, and considering the circumstances, I can remember what one could call good times. For instance, there was the comradeship. The very fact that we were all, or nearly all, escapees made a bond between us that no other "Kriegie" could share. Then of course there were the times we lay and listened as one or the other of us recounted his adventures during his escape, as well as the bonus of being able to learn from others mistakes and pick up a few tips for future attempts.
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George Barton went on to make three more escape attempts.
