This was to be my third Christmas as a POW and like many others I was looking for the silver lining. There was no good news for us. I was always having problems with my stomach. But with the help of the Red Cross parcels and the white bread we received for the evening meal and breakfast at the farm, I managed to keep going.
I never knew the casualty list of POWs in Germany. I do know that in my party of 10 men, that over a period of just under 3 years, one died and 3 had to be replaced and one of the replacements had to be replaced. I put this down to the very hard winters and the lack of nourishing food. Without the Red Cross, the few that we received, more would have perished.
I have heard of the "Following Winds" and winds like a "wetted knife". At minus 10 and even lower during the day at times: in an open field, it was all of this. It was "wetted" and seemed to "follow" us everywhere. In these conditions one could eat every hour and still feel hungry.
This Christmas was to be my best one to date.
With a Red Cross parcel and 100 cigarettes, food wise we couldn't grumble; mentally however, it was not so good: as we looked through the windows of the billet and saw the Poles and Germans going on their respective way to town.
The compound was only 100 yards from the main road. At first we would wave to those passing, but as days, weeks and months went by we realised how hopelessly empty our existence was, behind a 20 foot all round and 8 foot high, barbed wire fence.
This Christmas 1942/3. We had 2 days rest. The 10 of us amused ourselves by playing cards and on Christmas Day and Boxing Day we enjoyed a steady walk to the main farmhouse which we POWs called the White House. Here we had a turkey dinner on both days. This was not surprising for there were dozens of turkeys running around in the farmyard. Turkeys, geese, bantams, fowls and ducks could all be seen around the pond. We were glad to get Christmas over as there were too many thoughts of home and of past Christmas's when we had happy times. Even though we had more freedom than in the Stalag we were still cold and miserable.
The replacement brought us the news that Monty had retaken El Alamein and that many German soldiers were under attack at Stalingrad. He assumed that we already knew about this, as the battle of El Alamein was fought in October. We had been waiting for good news so long; he was overwhelmed with our enquiries.
By now it was mid winter and we had had some snow. It was frosty both day and night for weeks with no let up and we had to watch each other for frost bites and everybody sported a little diamond on the nose end.
When very bad conditions were prevalent we had an understanding with the overseer Ramonovski that he would accept a certain amount of work for that day. He knew what a reasonable days work was so he would tell us what work had to be done and we would finish it off and take shelter instead of hanging around wet through in what could be atrocious conditions.
The straw and soil had to be removed and the potato clamps had to be opened and the potatoes graded, then the clamps closed again to keep out the frost.
Every day we did the same thing. The grain had to be weighed, sacked and sent on its way.
Suddenly out of the blue we were given the oddest tools imaginable they were cross cut saws with 20 pound weights of iron fastened to one end and eight 6 foot poles with a hook and a spike at one end and pick axes. It was explained to us that we were to fetch the ice, for the freezers in the Majors farmhouse.
We were taken in a wagon along with the tools to a large lake which was frozen over; it was from this lake that the ice was to be cut.
At the far end of the lake we cut 2 holes about 40 foot apart, the ice was about 18 inches thick. Into the holes we put the weighted end of the crosscut saw and we sawed the ice towards each other, making a forty foot cut. We then had a section where we could pull the ice from the water. It was evident what the pole with the spikes and the hooks were for. The spike was for stabbing into the ice to cut it into pieces and the hook was to lift the ice out of the water. The ice was then slid down to the teamster, who loaded the wagon. At midday we had loaded three wagons and were on our way back.
On our return to the farmhouse we took the ice to a small bank on the side of the road which was close to the White House. The bank had a door built into it and 3 or 4 foot inside was another door and to my surprise a room about 15 foot square with frames to stack the ice. Standing back and looking at this room it had soil about 4 foot thick all the way round it was a perfectly good fridge. On the top outside, it had 5 foot of horse manure and every year about 2 foot of fresh horse manure was put on the top of the old. This made a perfect bed for mushrooms, which we gathered in pounds later on in the year. The Poles wouldn't touch them, they said that they were poison. The ice stayed frozen all through the summer months and was used daily in the old type fridges.
This was the only break we had from potatoes, mangels, silage, grain and some threshing, until the spring of 1943.
I had been a prisoner of war now for three years and I felt it was beginning to show. I had been lying awake at night for some weeks with tooth ache and I had observed the restlessness of the men in the night. The sergeant referred me to the guard and along with another man who had jaundice, the 4 of us went by train to Stalag XXA.
I was apprehensive when I arrived at Stalag. I thought that I might have to look round for another working party and have to make fresh acquaintances.
Within three days of leaving the farm the sergeant, Franz the guard, a replacement for the soldier who was ill and I went back again.
I'd had my tooth filled temporarily and I was told to return in 3 months. The treatment I had for my tooth was very primitive. The filling kept coming out and I had to fill the hole with any sort of wool I could find, mostly from my sock.
After we returned from Stalag we were setting spuds and like the previous crop it was huge, it was not so time consuming as I thought it might be. The ploughed field was first raked level and then a machine about 12 foot wide was pulled by 2 horses across the field. This made holes in the soft soil which were about 18 inches apart and in rows 2 foot wide. This machine looked like a long roller made up of rimless wheels.
There was a wagon on each side of the field full of seed potatoes. The 30 girls would then take a basket and put in as many seed potatoes as they could carry. They would then walk along individual rows dropping a seed potato into the hole that the machine had made, scuffing the earth over the top of it as they went along. We POWs carrying sacks of seed potatoes which had been filled at the wagon, followed, and kept the girls baskets full. The whole of the potato crop was set in one day. The plough would then follow and cover the potatoes, the light weight horses were used for this work; each one tackled to a single plough. The horses were very frisky and had to be led. One man led 2 horses, each horse pulling a single plough. The ploughman at the back would make sure that each potato was covered as he guided his plough down the row.
As many horses as possible was used to cover this potato crop. It took days after the girls had finished to complete this huge crop of potatoes. The teamsters were very busy at this time of the year. The fields had to be raked and prepared for the crops to be set and food for the livestock had to be taken to the yard.
It was this time of the year 1943 that we were to be reminded of the stress we were going through, when a young man in his early twenties fell ill. A doctor attended to him upon the request of the guard and the Major. He died the following day. If he had been in England I feel sure his life could have been saved.
His passing was very distressing for all of us. A funeral service was held and a few of the Polish workers, the guard and the Major attended the service.
Photographs were taken of the burial and we were allowed to buy them with camp money.
After the long dreary cold winter we were glad to be out and about again. For a while we were working with a woman who was named Antosha, she was a perfect leader, either sowing or hoeing; she was about 40 years old and had a very rugged countenance: she was never in a hurry, but my goodness!! she didn't half move no matter what the work was. She would look at the working party and ask "How many worked right handed" and "How many worked left handed" when hoeing. Then she would count so many rows down the field and she would then start them working, so many on her right and so many on her left. It worked out that nobody trod on the work that the person in front had done.
This year we tried 2 fresh crops, onion sets and flax, though we had nothing to do with the setting of the flax.
I helped with the setting of the onions and "Oh what a back breaking job that was". The rows were 1 foot wide and the onion sets were 6 inches apart. We had a full wagon of these bloody things. It was the first time either of these crops had been set on this farm. The only good that we POWs got out of this crop was, we took the bigger ones and used them, cut up with the curd cheese. The curd we got from the sour milk and this we had in an abundance at this time of year because the cows were being fed silage with their feed. After it had stood all winter the silage had a distinct sour smell and the milk from the cows was sour as it came from them. Large white sacks of cheese from the sour milk was placed at intervals in the cow shed and this milk was also included in the pigs diet.
By now we had taken on the duties of a trusted farm hand. Quite a few of the Poles were being called up for the army. What their roll was in the war I wouldn't know; they were seen once when they came home in their uniform and after that I never saw any of them again. Though both men and horses were taken away and it soon began to show.
The horses had sores through them being too long in harness on heavy work, and oxen with horns about 4 foot across appeared on the scene. These had thick wooden yokes across their foreheads to pull the load. They looked so bloody ferocious and yet they were as timid as sheep.
I remember very well how frightening these huge animals could be. On one occasion Pluto, another member of our work party, and I were walking down a narrow lane towards the horse stables when suddenly, from behind us, we heard this young Polish lad who was in charge of the oxen. He was shouting and running flat out, his eyes were sticking out of his head like two doughnuts and well they may be for just behind him were nine oxen at full gallop. Leatka, the lad knew that they couldn't stop and he knew there was nowhere to get out of the way. Get out of the way is what we did "Bloody fast". Just down the lane was the gate to the Majors vegetable garden and we just had time to swing it open when Leatka was on top of us. There was a cloud of dust as the tons of oxen and horns went by.
We were just starting to grin about it when I looked over the fence, the oxen had all got their heads up, with horns at the alert and to make things worse they were looking for Leatka on the bloody trot.
Pluto and I disappeared after this and left Leatka to it.
We were asked to pair off for different work to be done and I and our new replacement Alf, volunteered to clear a field full of stones that was causing a lot of trouble to the equipment and causing a good deal of work for the wheelwright as weIl.
To start off we had a wooden box with long handles each end for carrying purposes. We then walked up and down the field putting the stones that could be handled into the box. We then carried them to the side of the field filling in the ruts that the heavy wagons had made. When we had finished taking the stones off the ground that could be carried; we began to move the big ones which were sticking out of the ground.
To get these big ones out, we were supplied with a steel pickaxe, a wooden lever, a jack made of wood and a 3 foot long steel rod.
We would push the steel rod into the ground to find the outline and how deep the stone was in the ground. We would then dig down below its lowest point, push the jack into the hole that we had dug, wedging the top of the jack under the stone. We jacked it up as high as possible and threw soil underneath the stone. We did this at different sides of the stone until we had it lying on top of the ground. The lever and pickaxe was also used to help to get the stone to the surface. A teamster was then called and he would bring a sling to drag the stone to the side of the field.
It was getting close to the time for me to go back to Stalag XXA once again for my tooth to be filled properly. We were to bring back with us a replacement for the colleague who had died. I think the management at the farm had begun to realise that more of the farm workers were to be called up for the German army. We were away for a few days whilst my tooth was being filled and we got a replacement. When we arrived at Stalag XXA there were quite a few sailors there and one was from Nottingham (a Towny). He explained to me that during that mad dash across the Scaggerak his sub had ideas of sinking us. He even named the boat we were on. We were riding so high in the water and they thought we had no cargo, therefore, his Captain didn't think it was worth the fish (torpedo). I stayed a few days with this sailor, talking mostly about Nottingham. He would like to have applied for the replacement we needed but for some reason the Germans wouldn't allow sailors on working parties.
I never found out what happened to his submarine, all he said was "They let it go for a packet of Woodbines". I didn't press him further he seemed so upset when it was mentioned. As in most cases when meeting a "Towny" we promised to get in touch when it was all over. We never did.
After a couple of days I had my tooth filled properly. The Australian doctor who treated me asked me questions about the farm where we worked. I supposed he asked this because of the death of our mate and because there had been one or two replacements.
I got the feeling that quite a few POWs were having trouble both mentally and physically.
I had to wait two days to see this doctor, as he was very busy. His patients must have been from working parties, for there wasn't many POWs in Stalag XXA. After seeing the Dentist we were ready to go back, another man joined us and we returned to the farm.
By now Alf and I were mates and we shared everything.
I still had to be careful with the filling in my tooth, I could eat hot and cold food without getting pain in my teeth although the Dentist had said that the filling was not first class.
Private parcels and letters were getting through to us now and at a better rate. I always saved the chocolate from these parcels for when my stomach was upset. I could get through the bad times much better if I had the rusk like biscuits from the Canadian Red Cross parcels. I did many swaps to acquire these biscuits.
It was about this time that I had a letter from a lady from Dorking in Surrey. Mrs Jacomb was her name. She had adopted me as a pen friend and wanted to know what type of book I read. Alf my mate said straight away Peter Cheyney so I asked for this author. My wife corresponded with Mrs Jacomb a good many times during the war years and wrote to thank her for the books and for her interest and kindness shown to me during my captivity I should have made her acquaintance before she joined her son in New Zealand. Though I am very sorry to say we never met.
Once again I was getting wire crazy. The more I watched the people going backwards and forwards to town, the more I thought of home. What a sleazy monotonous existence it was here behind a barbed wire fence. I felt I must get outside of the wire as I did at Frau Leidkers farm. It would be easy to do, just climb the fence and go. For the first half hour it would be like walking on air. Then, after looking around there is nothing. No lights, either in the road or in the houses. All there is are bushes and dykes, which one stumbles into. This is farmland in occupied Poland. All around are countries occupied by Germans or Russians.
Danzig is close by and we know this is like a fortress having worked there during 1940/1 and there was no means of escape from there. It would take more than an hour to work off your paddy and probably twice as long to get back. I do know of many soldiers who climbed over the wire fence and went walk about, it was a way of letting off steam. Once again we had a change of guard. We heard him a long while before we saw him, he was stoned out of his mind. With all the noise he was making I imagined him to be about 6 foot. He was in fact a German Feldwebel (sergeant) about 5 foot 4 inches he was as far across as he was tall and instead of a chip bag hat he wore a helmet. He looked very funny and he also looked and sounded very forbidding. He made our guard stand at attention for quite a while, the guard looking very forlorn.
After the feldwebel had washed he came to see us; he stood beside our sergeant, who was 6 foot the guard looking like a midget at his side. In spite of his small stature, he was a very thick set muscular man and not much fat there.
We had the feeling that he had been on the wrong side of a battle, like some of us. He was to be the best of our guards. He was not the "Heil Hitler" type when he greeted the Major or anyone else. He tried to make life that much easier for us whenever he could.
To start with he took two of us to town and he persuaded a butcher to let us buy meat (wurst) and a few other things from other shops with camp money. He might have received a rollicking for this as it only happened on the one occasion. He was more lenient than any other guard we had ever had. If we were on stag duty with this guard and happened to get talking to one of the Poles at the well, he wouldn't bother, he just took no notice. I think he had sussed the position right from the start as far as escape was concerned. On one side of us was Russia at war and there was Danzig on another side of us. The coast was guarded like Fort Knox. There were hundreds of miles of Poland and occupied countries around it. I did hear him say "Where can they go?". We all of us said this man had been around. He would come in at night and have a fag and a cup of tea with us: he would never speak openly about the war. I had a feeling he had seen quite a lot of it, after all, the war had been on now for 3 1/2 years.
Eventually he came to an agreement with us, instead of locking us up in the billet he would let us have the run of the compound; if we would stay in it whilst he was away. He never bothered about the Poles talking to us through the wires and that made it good for us, as we could stay outside until it was dark.
This was very nice in the summer when it was hot and we went along with it, he hinted that he would only be here for a short time before he was sent back into action and he was making the best of it.
He did like his pint of beer though, he came back from town many times well over the limit, though he was never quarrelsome; he held his drink very well.
News was getting to us from the Poles about Russia and how they were progressing. The Poles seemed very worried and fearful of the Russians.
Everything on the farm seemed to be getting done, the hoeing and the haymaking was one long monotonous slog. lt was work all work.
Another one of the party went back to Stalag, he was one of the replacements. He told me that he could always go back whenever he wanted. He must have had some kind of ailment that the Germans accepted, because he was soon replaced.
Talking to Alf one day I mentioned how long I had been here and how beezed off I was and I was surprised when he said "Let's apply for a job transfer". He seemed to know more about it than I did and I left it to him to arrange. We were to be sorry for this later, we should have gone into the matter more thoroughly, for by now we were getting to be real friends and this made life easier for both of us.
We were harvesting once again and up to the neck in work. Occasionally workers came from different parts of the war zone and so we were getting news, mostly from the Russian area the Ukraine.
Another one of our lads was troubled, he was having very bad toothache. He was taken to the dentist and was told that he needed 2 extractions. No painkilling drug was available, so the teeth had to be extracted without freezing the gum and he had a very traumatic time for a few days.
I was having skin trouble; the very cold winters and hot summers and the spreading of artificial fertilisers by hand had caused my skin to crack and bleed and I developed tiny vesicles under my skin which I thought was very conspicuous and making me very self-conscious.
The new crop that we had set, flax, had been left too long and it was over ripe. We were asked to harvest this crop, starting at 4 am and whilst the dew was on it, so as to reduce the loss of seed and we were promised time off later because of this early start.
The overseer was pleased with the onion crop, this being the first of its kind on this farm.
The land that had been treated with muck and artificial fertiliser gave first class results.
What struck me as being weird was the lack of song birds, larks, thrushes and the like. I never saw a game bird, pheasant or partridge in my 5 yrs as a POW, I saw just one fox, even when we cut the corn and guns were at the ready I never saw a rabbit. Sparrows, rats, mice and cats were in an abundance. I never heard of a fox attacking the fowls, turkeys etc. in the farmyard. It seemed to me that when Poland capitulated everything seemed to have died; it was such a forlorn desolate empty place.
As Autumn approached we had another sick mate, he had jaundice. The Doctor prescribed for him and he stayed in the billet until he was fit again and he would help by doing all the stag duties whilst he was confined to the billets.
Each year we seemed to get more involved with the working of this farm. This year it was Schnapps, though we had nothing to do with the making of the stuff, we did load the barrels onto lorries and make ready for sending them to the railway. I don't know how our sergeant got some of the Schnapps, as the Germans were all over the place, but get some he did and how he could drink it was another thing; it was so strong you could feel it burning your mouth and throat. A thimble full was my limit and even that small amount upset my stomach.
Most of the lads had a drink , they didn't show any interest for it either. Only the sergeant and he said it was good, I think he got plenty of it down him too. The brenneri mister, whose name was Shultz got his milk churn full of the stuff. Shultz always had Schnapps and plum juice mixed together when he went up the field especially in the winter. He would turn his back to us as he sneaked a drink.
We were now doing all of the jobs leading up to Christmas, clamping potatoes etc. the same as last year. This was the first time Alf had done this kind of work and he was quite intrigued.
The weather was starting to get cold again. I did dread the cold winters, gradually these atrocious winter conditions were wearing us down and the billet, no matter how we tried we couldn't make it look like a place that one could live in. These sheds were never meant for human habitation. In fact they were identical to the pig sties. The only difference was that we had a fireplace added and glass covered the barred windows.
I was now approaching my 4th Christmas and I, like many of the others had England very much on the mind. I pictured a nice long soak in a warm bath and the luxury of warm surroundings. We pitied these people, the life they have here, but "Hell!" our lot was not so flaming hot either. I felt we had gone back 100 years. It was so primitive in every aspect.
Like the previous year we were given 2 days off from farm work at Christmas.
The guard was full of spirits and I mean spirits, the intoxicating kind. He took off to town and came back loaded. We sang carols again this year and Alf liked "The Old Rugged Cross". I don't think he had heard that one before.
Both the door to the billets and the one to the compound was open. We went outside to the Majors house carol singing and we went to a few of the Poles houses singing carols too. The guard told us to have as good a time as possible. Some of our lads were invited into the Poles houses for a drink of Christmas cheer.
Alf and I walked the length of the farm, as far as where the sheep were and with the snow on the ground it was quite light. When we reached the shepherds house the dogs were very excited, they were barking and snarling, then I heard Nina the shepherds daughter quietening them.
We were invited into the house and the shepherd played a tune for us on his fiddle. We stayed for about an hour and was invited to have cold lamb with them. When we left we gave them a few cigs and pipe tobacco. This little outing didn't seem much, but it broke the monotony. During the time we were at the shepherds nobody seemed to have missed us, everybody was in a good mood and chatting together. We must have been awake nearly all of the night, we were singing and even the guard joined in; it was a real pick me up.
It was after Christmas when an unter feldwebel came to the billet with another soldier, the soldier was a Geordie. The transfer that Alf had applied for had been accepted. But Damn!. It just came for him. His name had been forwarded to go to another working party. Not mine. I was to stay. Both of us were gutted.
We quickly exchanged one or two things. He gave me a photo album containing many photos of events, pantomimes, boxing exhibitions and shows which were put on at Stalag XXA. Although this album was rather heavy, I carried it with me on the three months march, in front of the Russian advance as they overrun Poland and Germany in 1945. He also gave me a blue hand knitted pullover which his sister had knitted for him. We were quick to say goodbye and I never saw Alf again until after the war was over and he brought his wife Rita to visit us in Nottingham.