Pte. Frederick Stevens
British Army 12th General Hospital Royal Medical Army Corps
from:Manchester
My Granddad, Frederick Stevens now 92 years old can clearly remember his time as a Prisoner of War. Having read some of the accounts on here, I hope that some people might be interested to see the similarities between his memories of Stalag IV-B with those of their relatives. He certainly recognised some of the stories recounted on this site.
Frederick Stevens was 22 years old when he was captured in October 1943 on the Island of Kos. He says that he was cooking breakfast one day with fellow members of his regiment when they saw German paratroopers dropping from the sky. They were soon captured and transported to Athens before continuing on to Germany in a cattle wagon. He remembers that it was around 35 men to each wagon and the journey lasted for a gruelling 6 days. Eventually they reached the transit camp Stalag VII-A in Moosburg. He was held there for several days before being moved on to Stalag IV-B. It was here that he was to see out the rest of the war.
After 70 years, Fred can recall several incidences, all of a dramatic nature, from during his time in the camp: He says that on one particular day, Luftwaffe planes were flying over the camp. RAF personnel within the camp encouraged the pilots to fly lower. They waved their hands as a gesture for the planes to descend; it was a show of bravado to test the pilots. The planes responded to the challenge and plummeted but the propellers of one plane caught several of the RAF men who had been waving to the planes and Fred remembers that at least 3 of them were killed. That evening, the Luftwaffe commander came to the camp to apologise, and informed the POWs that the pilots involved in the incident had been relieved of their duties and would be dispensed into the army.
The camp contained many Russian soldiers. Russia had not signed the Geneva Convention so they could not receive the extra sustenance that the other allied soldiers received through the Red Cross parcels. They even resorted to making their own sort of Ersatz coffee from Pine tree bark. Fred remembers that many prisoners of other nationalities would group together and donate whatever they could spare to the Russians. He says it wasn’t a lot, because both Russian and other inmates were always hungry.
The prisoners were subject to curfews. After a certain time they would all have to retreat to the cramped huts where they would sleep on 3-storey beds. A very effective morale boost in such restrictive circumstances was the fact that some prisoners had managed to procure radios, which had to kept secret of course, through which they could keep up to date with the war's progress.
On one occasion he broke his curfew, just stepping outside the hut to get some air. He spotted a fellow Dutch prisoner across the camp that evidently felt the same about the cramped conditions in the huts. Fred could see that the inmate was being harassed to return in to the hut. A guard was pushing him and knocked him in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle. The Dutch prisoner turned and struck the guard and another nearby guard witnessed this and shot the Dutchman dead. Naturally, after seeing this shocking act he made a hasty retreat into the hut and didn’t break his curfew again.
On another occasion, during a circuit of the camp, an allied aircraft flew low over their heads. It was shooting at a railway line just outside the premises of the camp and destroyed a goods-train that was being held there. Fred instinctively threw himself to the ground, and has said he had never been more in fear for his life than that moment – quite ironic that his scariest moment was the fault of an Allied aircraft!
One evening in February 1945 a Pathfinder plane, (target marking squadrons in RAF Bomber Command that located and marked targets with flares, which a main bomber force could aim at), dropped a flare over the camp. Granddad said the sky lit up and in a panic, fearing that the camp was about to be bombed, he jumped from his 3rd story bed and landed on his knee, which has caused him problems to this day. The bombers must have somehow realised that it was a not the intended target because no bombs were dropped. Instead, the planes were heading further east, as part of what history would remember as the cataclysmic bombing raids on Dresden. The morning after the raid, the POWs who had been members of the Royal Army Medical Core (which included Fred) were asked by the guards to go down to Dresden and help with injured victims of the devastation. However, the Infantry Regiment Sergeant refused to go and wouldn’t allow the others to leave the camp for their own safety; he feared that the survivors would lynch them.
Fred also remembers a few moments of comic relief. For example on one occasion an American pilot, bailing out of his stricken plane, landed quite conveniently right in the centre of the camp! He also remembers the concerts, performed by the inmates. He remembers these being very popular, particularly amongst the Americans. During one ‘season’, the camp commandant was invited to open the Theatre for the first performance. However, whilst he was inside the theatre, his driver was distracted with the offer of free cigarettes by the prisoners and a group of RAF prisoners stole the vehicles tools. The theatre was subsequently shut (temporarily)!
Eventually, the day arrived when the camp was liberated. Fred recalls that the Americans first liberated the camp until the Russians arrived, at which point they returned to their lines. The Russians transported the now ex-POWs to another camp further east. However he decided enough was enough of being told where to go and what to do, so he ‘escaped’, along with several others who had been in the camp and they travelled westward to the River Elbe, beyond which the Americans were in authority and there was a better chance of being sent home sooner. He travelled on foot and on his way he was welcomed into the home of an old German farmer to take food and rest.
He reached the US lines and was eventually transported to northern France. It was from here he was finally brought back to the UK on a Lancaster Bomber. He says he can remember looking out to see the White Cliffs of Dover greet his return. Some time afterwards, he discovered that his fellow POWs who had remained with the Russians had waited another 6 weeks to be transported home.
