When the true horrors of the Concentration Camps were revealed in April 1945, ordinary Germans claimed to have no knowledge of the Gas Chambers or the primitive barbaric burning of the bodies. However, just after the attempted assassination of Hitler◦– remember that was in July 1944 – a new phrase began to circulate around the camp◦– ‘If you do not behave, you will go up the chimney.’ This was not used by the guards as a new threat to us but, I imagine, it was a thing that they themselves had been threatened with to tighten the newly imposed discipline.
I couldn’t help but wonder: if we, in a prison camp had got to hear it, then it was hardly unbelievable that the saying, and its sinister meaning, would not be known to most of the German population.
Another sign that gave us some measure of hope came late one afternoon as a Dornier 217 flew over very low, and it was obvious that it was in serious trouble. One engine appeared quite dead and the other was sputtering badly. Before it had passed out of sight, four parachutes opened, so it seemed the whole crew had been saved. All the prisoners watching immediately started cheering loudly, but they were also making rude gestures. This was because they were not at all bothered about the safety of the crew, but they had seen an enemy aircraft crash. The Commandant, however, had seen the incident from a different point of view. The next morning, he had it announced at roll call that he very much appreciated the sporting spirit shown by the British airmen when the German airmen were able to escape with their lives. He meant well.
Around this time, I was to get some welcome news of a different kind. Quite by chance, I was talking to a fellow prisoner who was also an airman in Bomber Command, when it became apparent that he knew that my old love rival’s plane had also been shot down over Germany and that he had probably been taken prisoner. While I obviously felt sorry for him, on another level I was quietly pleased that my rival in love was also ‘behind the wire’ in a German Prisoner of War Camp.
Our thoughts of when we were going to be liberated by the British or American forces coming from the west or the south were fuelled by the belief that we could hear heavy gunfire coming from the east. Within two days we were sure there was no mistake◦– it was much louder and more intense. The coming of the Russians was confirmed when we could see, in the far distance, columns of civilians struggling along a road pushing handcarts and carrying all sorts of possessions. We had seen similar scenes on the newsreels at the cinema when the Germans were pushing their way across Belgium and France in 1940, so knew they were fleeing the oncoming Russians.
Everyone believed that our liberation was imminent. Amateur strategists amongst us predicted, ‘they will not bother getting us out, they will only think of themselves; East Prussia is part of Germany, you see.’ Even the pessimists thought they were right. We were not able to find out at that time because two days later we were all on the move.
Chapter 6
On the Move
The evacuation of Stalag Luft VI was carried out, in July 1944, with no signs of panic from our captors; it was a hasty withdrawal but well organised. It wasn’t until very early in the morning on the next day, after seeing the columns of refugees, that we found that the whole of E Lager, where the Americans were held, had already been moved out.
As this realisation began to sink in armed guards entered our own lager, separating the two rows of huts. By the time I realised what was going on, the occupants of the hut directly opposite, where David was, had already been ousted. I watched as they were moved out, carrying all they could manage in hastily made backpacks, but I could not catch sight of him. They were herded off, much like cattle, except that the drovers were much more plentiful and had bayonets fixed ready to discourage any slow movers. It was not long before all the huts on the opposite side were empty, creating a strange silent atmosphere along the whole row.
It was not until the war in Europe was over that I learned from David, and others who went with him, what a terrifying experience all those on their side of K Lager, along with the whole of the occupants of E Lager, had endured. I soon realised that, not for the first time, I had been blessed by fate through having been allocated a different hut.
Their destination was a prison camp, close to the shores of the Baltic, called Stalag Luft IV, near the town of Gross Tycho in the Province of Pomerania.
From Stalag Luft VI, they were marched to the railway station and loaded into cattle trucks in which they made the short journey to the port of Memel. There they were loaded onto a very decrepit, small merchant ship, the Insterburg, which was normally used for carrying coal in its two holds. After being ordered to leave the packs containing their pathetic possessions on deck, using just one single vertical ladder, they were forced below, into a filthy hold. The weather by now was very warm and the heat, accumulated in the steel hold, was almost unbearable; what they needed desperately was water.
The floor space of each of the two filthy, stinking holds was crammed to absolute capacity with hundreds of men. Those on the sides had great difficulty in maintaining a foothold because of the slope of the hull, and it was only after a lot of shuffling around that room was found for most men to sit with knees drawn up tight, but the heat and the air quality got worse, as did the desperate need for water. Eventually this was provided by lowering just one bucketful down at a time. Those waiting were only able to watch while others drank; this must have been torture.
Although it must have been known that the voyage would take sixty hours, no provision had been made for sanitation. Only a few of the hundreds that had been packed into the holds had been allowed back on deck after the ship set sail to relieve themselves; the rest were expected to make do with a bucket. This was raised up and down by a chain just as the water had been; some said the same bucket was used for both purposes. True or not, a bucket soon proved inadequate for this purpose and a bit of the precious floor space in the hold had to be given over to human waste. With practically no ventilation, the resultant stench increased the misery below.
To add even more terror, it was known to some of the RAF prisoners aboard that mine laying operations were frequently carried out in this area of the Baltic Sea, as a result every bang on the side of the ship when it collided with flotsam caused them to cringe, waiting for an explosion. Another thing that caused great concern to the few who had been allowed back on deck after setting sail, was that they could see that an E boat was following them. Were the German crew of their ship to be taken off at some point, leaving all the prisoners helpless when it was sunk by a torpedo?
Thankfully, after two and a half days the ship docked at the port at Swinemunde and its cargo transferred back into what would become very crowded cattle trucks once more, for what should have been a short journey inland, but they were kept penned up like cattle with no water overnight.
The next morning, as the doors were at last slid open, it could be seen that the guards who had brought them from Stalag Luft VI had departed and been replaced by very arrogant and aggressive members of what can be described as the Kriegsmarine’s (German Navy) version of the Hitler Youth. They were each carrying a bayonet, and made it known that they intended to use the weapons by making a great display of sharpening them in full view of the prisoners.
It soon became obvious that on this final part of the terrible journey, it was the intention of those who had planned it to provoke the prisoners into making a mass escape. At intervals along the route machine gun nests could be spotted and moving along with the column was a film crew continually filming, supposedly to record the very start of what was hoped for. It was almost certain that only the strange sort of discipline, based on trust in their quiet unassuming leader, Vic Clarke, that prevented this from happening, when he sent word down the line, ‘Don’t try to run away out of line, that’s what they want.’ I would say, only someone who has been a prisoner of war would know why everybody obeyed without question.