91ÈȱŹ

Swinging the Lead

I also was a malinger on this occasion. We were going from the farm down to the sawmill and the farm had supplied labour for the wood to be sawn up that had gone from the farm to be sawn into planks and they needed help to operate the machines, so I and another couple of lads were sent down to this big sawmill in the town, the farm was named “Lindsey”, I forget what the nearest town was named, but anyway, down in the sawmill I was given the job of trimming the small bits of branches that were left on the outside of the tree before it went through the machine to be sawn into planks. As I was trimming it off there, the axe struck off. Me, I wasn’t too clever with an axe then and I didn’t want to use it anyway. I was just dropping it really with no pressure, and it just swung off the side of the trunk and went into my left foot and just penetrated the leather of the boot I had on. Lucky I had some leather on there anyway as most of the boots were absolutely knackered. It did just fetch blood, so of course, that was it, I didn’t want to do anymore work for that day did I. In fact, I didn’t want to do any then anyway. So the guard came along and I made a fuss of it and he said well you’d better stop there and keep your foot up in the air and we’ll get back to the camp. We went back to the camp in a wagon and horses.

Anyway, I malingered the next day. I stayed in camp and just stuck a bit of plaster over this and it was such a tiny thing you could hardly see it. The guard never asked to look at it and I just said the next morning I couldn’t go to work and that carried on for at least a week with me swinging the lead.

What I was doing then when the lads came in at night was peeling the potatoes into a big pan which the froggy who was doing the cooking, there were a lot of French in there as well, not in our billet but on the same farm, and I was peeling the potatoes to save them from having to do it at night when they came in from work and that went on and any rate during this time, Fred, my mate, who was in the field hoeing. If you have a good hoe, you like to keep it so they were bringing the hoe in with them and keeping it underneath this bed. Well, I call it bed but what it was was a plank of wood that was put up on a shelf with some straw chucked on it and that was your bed and Fred was bringing his hoe under the bed to keep it as it was a nice sharp one. Anyway, he came down in the night and he was on the bunk above me, I was on the lower one, and that’s where his hoe was under the bunk I was sleeping in. Fred came down from there and I don’t know why or what but he left his hoe right near the edge and he put his foot right on the blade of this hoe and it cut his foot very, very badly right across the instep. Well the guards came in the next morning to get us up for work and he showed them his foot and said what did they reckon to that and “you get out to work” said the guard and there was me with my little cut. Good job the guard never asked to see it. I’m there lingering and Fred’s there really suffering with this bad cut, he had to go out to work and I sat there peeling potatoes. Anyway, eventually the guard said to me that I’d have to go to the doctors with that foot and I said I’d see what it was like in the morning and maybe I’ll be able to go to work tomorrow. The better part of valour I said to him the next morning that it seemed to be alright and I could walk on it alright so I think I’ll go to work which I did.

I got away with that. That’s just one of the ways that you conned them mainly because you didn’t have enough energy most of the time.

Our ration was 8 men to a loaf of black bread and on that farm actually, we were getting a ladle of soup which did have potatoes and carrots and a few odds and sods in but mostly the soup that you got was boiled sugar beet leaves or stinging nettles boiled or any rubbish that they chucked in but nevertheless we survived.

Smoking

Two years after being taken prisoner before I got a letter from home, from Beryl and I never smoked, which is so surprising this, for some reason in this letter, I don’t know if any of you remember, woodbines were in trendy packets, 5 in a packet for tuppence. One of those packets came in the first letter I received from her after 2 years of her not knowing if she knew where I was and not knowing how she was at home or anything like that, I got this letter and in it was this packet of 5 woodbines. I don’t know how I got them because most things got pilfered from letters but you’ve never seen so many people smoke so few cigarettes!

The favourite saying amongst PoWs there was, as soon as anyone lit up a cigarette, was “two up” which meant after you and with 5 cigarettes in that packet I don’t know how many people they went round but all of us in that billet enjoyed the smokes.

I had started smoking by then and I didn’t smoke when I went away but I think I may have said before, at the first sign of action I was dead scared and a Scotsman offered me a cigarette and that was that. We smoked beech leaves, ground up in your hand, rolled up in newspaper with a bit of snuff thrown in.

Fight

I got a parcel of clothes from her and in this parcel of clothes was a lovely polar-necked grey, very fine wool pullover. I was rich when I had that and the envy of everybody. That was ruined by a fella called Norman Fowler who was a PoW but a more objectionable man you have never met. He was in this billet on the sawmill and the billet was up above a room where there was a copper and whatnot where we boiled our clothes and you had to go up stairs, no windows in there, just boards, and three wooden, three-tier bunks, 9 of us in there. There are 4 of us who got playing Solo and with what spare time you had, which wasn’t much as you were working dawn to dusk 7 days per week, on Saturday’s you were given a bit of time in the afternoon to do your washing. Anyway, the 4 of us, Kip Downall, Lee from Warwickshire, myself and Bernie Millington, who we called Fishy, from Hull, not because he came from Hull but because his eyes were like cods eyes. We always played Solo and we got to know each others play so much that you didn’t dare make a call unless you had an absolute dead cert hand with all the tricks and this particular afternoon we were about to play Solo and this Norman Fowler, he starts lying on his bed to go to sleep. I agree that Fishy did have an infectious laugh but nevertheless, we started playing Solo and Norman jumped up from the bed, saying “Let me play it”. He had allegedly been a champion of all India at boxing and goodness knows what, all a load of cobblers that he used to tell us, but anyway he jumped up when we started Fishy laughing. “Pack that up, some of us want to get some sleep” so I just said “Oh, well, we’re only playing cards so you’ll have to tolerate it” so anyway he got down on the bed again and for some reason or another we decided to pack up cards for 5 minutes. As soon as we stopped playing cards he got his home made banjo out and started strumming on it and you can imagine how he could sing. Anyway, we said to him well we might as well play cards again as we can’t do anything else with that bloody racket going on so we got back down playing cards again whereupon he put his banjo down and lie back down on the bed. Fishy laughed again and up he got, “Pack that laughing up or I’ll square you lot up” just like that. I just said “You and who else” and laughed. I was sitting at the table with a handful of cards and he smartly got up and aimed a blow at me and you’ve never seen a table and stools, no chairs, long stools, you’ve never seen them move so quickly in all your life. The room just cleared and he started. I had no choice but to protect myself. I’ve never had it so easy in all my life. Champion of all India? All he did was flail his arms and leave his face and chest all open. I just had to give it a punch and step back, give it a punch and step back. Anyway, eventually his eyes were filled and his nose was bleeding and he started walking around looking for his towel, saying “Where is it? Where is it?” so every time he said “Where is it?” I gave him a hit and one of the blokes said “There it is Norman” and he couldn’t see so he just had to stop and the funny point was the bloke he was mucking in with, Alf Saunders, he was a boxer in civi street and he boxed under the name of Jack Birmingham and his father was a good boxer and he boxed under the name of Tiger Len Hood. He was downstairs doing his washing when most of this happened but he heard the commotion and he came tearing up the stairs wondering what it was there. When he saw his mate there he said “Ah, who’s done that to you?” just like that “as they are going to have to do that to me now”, so he being a boxer I thought I’m in for a hiding here but you can’t back down so I said “I did, Alf” and I said “But he asked for it”. So Alf said “Well, now you’ll both take me on”. Fishy picked up one of these stools and he said “Alf, as soon as you start I’ll hit you across the *!^%* head with this stool. He asked for all he got and if you start you’ll get the same and a belt with the stool”. Alf, better part of valour he didn’t persue the subject. But at the time we had there some boxing gloves and before this incident I had sparred with Alf and he was good and could have put me away any time he wanted really. I just knew that. He tried after that every day “Shall we spar then?” and I said I would not as I said to him he just wanted revenge and to pulverise me but he said no but I knew. It went on so long that one day I said yes, so if he gave me a punch now then he’d be satisfied. I thought that so put the gloves on one day and we’re down in the yard of the sawmill sparring and I can see him gradually working up to get the punch in and he went for the punch and I gave him a beauty and he went down on his backside. I said “I’ve had enough now Alf” and took the gloves off. He said “So have I”, so I asked if that had finished it now and he said yes, so that was that. Norman Fowler, champion of all India
oh dear, dear.

Next instalment of the tapes from Harry:

Motorbiking

The boss of the sawmill we used to call Chester. He looked just like Chester Conklin. He took some chances because he had a DKW motorbike and it wasn’t running and he obtained from somewhere some fuel for it which was scarce and he wanted to use it and he found out somehow that I was a mechanic and he got me to get this bike running. I did get it running and had a few rides with him — up and down the long lane that lead from the sawmill down to the river. I rode up and down. There was no point me wandering off as there was nowhere to go. Anyway, once the fuel had run out on it it would have been a dead loss anyhow. Chester asked how much he owed me. I laughed and said “what could I spend it on if you give me any money? If I spend any official money, I’ll be in trouble and you will be in trouble too as you’re not supposed to fraternise with me.” He did bring me some white bread so that was alright.

Laughter Amongst the Pain

There are some funny things that happen with your enemy.There aren’t many people that can say they’ve played football for England and Scotland but I can say that because before Dunkirk and the real war started, we had some inter-regimental football matches and I played for the regimental team. So when we were taken into the main camp, the Red Cross sent footballs (no boots, just footballs) and the Germans let us have it and we organised some games. First of all, England played the French. The football pitch was on sand and sometimes the sand was over your ankles so what with lack of food and the sand, it was a damned hard job to play football on it. Nevertheless, I loved football always so I played football for England against France and then because the Scots were there and I was in a Scottish Regiment, I played for them too. I have also played for England against Scotland and vice versa. When we played the Scots, we had a set of bagpipes which they acquired somewhere, maybe the Red Cross or YMCA or those organisations. When Scotland played any of the others, the Scottish team were piped on to the field with these bagpipes. That was some light entertainment in amongst all the stuff that happened.

One of the things we failed in was trying to get mangles. Mangles that the cattle food have. We were trying to boil them soft enough to eat ourselves but that we found didn’t happen. We boiled them for hours and hours and hours and they still didn’t get soft and we still couldn’t eat the darn things. Sugar beet, yes, we got them to go soft and eat them. Stinger nettles, yes, and things like that. Amazing what you’ll eat when you are hungry.

Liberation

We had done this 900 mile march and eventually got liberated, I remember vividly the date, Friday, April 13th 1945. That was the day I got back to American lines. I think I told you this before but we gave ourselves up to them and they freed us. Well, a better way to put it, we walked to them any rate but nevertheless, whatever it was, we were freed. An American Officer gave us 200 eggs. He said ‘I don’t know what you blokes are going to do, there is nothing laid on for you, you’ll just have to go and find somewhere to stay. Knock on every house and say you want lodgings or whatever you want to say.’

First we went to this hotel which the Americans were using as their headquarters and also held the German PoWs.

(story about eggs told above)

Three of us went to find lodgings in what had been a radio shop. There were four of us but the fourth one got shot when we made a break for it. I don’t know whether I told you how we made a break for it but anyway, we had, and we were going through this plantation and one of them got pinned against this tree by the dog and he got shot. That was Giddy from Warwick.

During that time, after we made our break, one of the German guards shot one of our lads in the leg. It had gone up to his thigh, into his stomach and eventually killed him, just a couple of hours before they were released. When the Yanks caught up with the column, they told them what this bloke had done and what a bad so-and-so he was so they chased him with a tank. They chased him and chased him and chased him, let him think he was getting away and then chased him a bit further until eventually he couldn’t run any further and, they tell me, I didn’t see this but they tell me, the people who did see it and I quite well believe them, that the Yanks then drove the tank tracks onto him and then just screwed it round on him and that was that. So justice for the lad but not only that but the German guard had been really dreadful to us on the march anyway.

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