My mother still owns a property in Norfolk which was part of her father's estate which was broken up after his death in 1991. It's a small farm cottage and in his will, my grandfather granted his farm foreman for over thirty years, George, the tennacy until his death at a peppercorn rent. He's a lovely old guy with a broad Norfolk accent and I've known him for many years, but until recently never knew he had a German surname.
He was captured in North Africa and once as a POW in England, sent to work on the land. The farm was allocated several POWs, all Italian except for George who was put in charge as he was from an efficient country! After the war, the Italians all went home but George was from the East, had no family left and had nothing to go back to. So he stayed, married a local girl and essentially became an Englishman - although he's probably still technically German as I suspect he's never left the UK or even obtained a passport.
My mother remembers George arriving on the farm. At first he was defiant and arrogant. But when he realised he was on a cushy number, being fed and adequately accommodated, he soon mellowed, learned English quickly and was very trustworthy. Security for these POWs was very lax and they could have escaped at any time, but didn't as they knew they wouldn't get across the Channel. (The only German POW to return to the Fatherland escaped from Canada through the then neutral USA). George was always very level headed and wasn't a fervant Nazi. In fact he seemed remorseful for what his country was doing to the rest of Europe and was worried for the locals when the port of Kings Lynn, only three miles away was frequently bombed. My Grandfather used to loose of a few shotgun barrels off at the night sky during the raids. There was no chance of them hitting anything, but it probably made him feel better.
The Italians were a homesick and emotional bunch, but in good spirits and my Mother remembers them singing a lot. They loved having my mum and her sisters around and made them wooden toys. I inherited one of them as a child, which was like a ping pong bat which when rotated horiontally, made chickens peck the 'bat' through the actions of a weight. I wish I still had it.
They were all very well treated by my Grandfather despite his antipathy towards the Germans - probably due to getting a German bullet through the neck in 1917! And things were a bit awkward when the eldest Sister's fiancee, an RAF pilot was killed on a raid, but all the POWs were treated as family friends and often ate with the family. My mother remembers huge meals with family and POWs alike round the large kitchen table.
But my Grandfather made a few rude comments when my Sister married an Italian Army Officer in the early 1990s!