Old Comrades
Life became more and more desperate and unhappy. We were made to work very long hours. Although natural inclination was not to put too much into the job anyway, the fact that we were on minimum rations and away from our barracks for twelve hours and more every day made us weak and tired. We all did our best I believe, to skimp the work as much as possible, but still we were made to do more than we ever wanted.
The work of railway maintenance continued around Annaburg and district. We hauled heavy rail lines, sleepers and other equipment, punched blue metal under the sleepers for many hours daily, and generally had a mean time working for the Third Reich!
The summer of 1944 in Germany was rather good as far as weather was concerned. We were kept abreast of the war news by friendly French workers who supplied us with information gleaned from illicit listening to the BBC and other foreign sources. I well remember working on a line quite close to a big town somewhere, when after an excited whispered conversation with a Frenchman, George announced to us all that the Allied invasion had started. It was 6th June of course, and we knew of the event within hours of its commencement.
The next day, I was suddenly grabbed by a guard as we were about to leave our barracks, and carted off to the local lock-up. Without trial or confrontation I had been given seven days bread and water for my escape attempt. I was the first of our trio to be punished. In truth, it was quite a rest for me. I was in the village jail, with a hard wooden platform for a bed, one blanket, bread and water for food and the company of one book which I had smuggled into my small pack of clothing. The book was a Red Cross issue, Charles Dickens’ “Great Expectations”, and it is still one of my favourite stories. In return for cutting up a great pile of firewood logs for the jail-keeper one day, I was given a bowl of hot soup.
On 12th July 1944, there was an assassination attempt on Hitler. At a high level military gathering, a bomb was planted under the planning table where maps and tactics were being studied. Hitler escaped with minor injuries, and a remorseless hunt started for the plotters. Several high ranking officers were involved, and a terrible vengeance was exacted on those arrested. General Erwin Rommel, the “Desert Fox” was implicated, but because he was such a popular public figure he was persuaded to commit suicide. (This story is well documented, and I won’t expand upon it).
As a “thanksgiving” for the Fuehrer’s escape from death it was decreed that all workers would increase their output to 12 hours daily. This included poor bloody prisoners, of course, and by that time we had been moved to new accommodation in a village about 10 miles from our original prison compound. We were billetted in an old dance hall attached to a public house, of all places! Strange though it sounds, that hall became our home for the next several months. It was thoroughly secured and guarded. We didn’t see much of it, however. The new decree meant that we were “roused” about 5a.m., and after a quick wash and a frugal breakfast we were marched to work, arriving at 6a.m. to start our 12- hour stint. A brief break for a midday meal was allowed, but there was very little for us yo eat.We were always extremely grateful for the Red Cross parcels, for without them we would have starved.
During our stay in the new billets in August 1944, I had a letter from home (purportedly sent to me by my mother as a “nephew” because of my changed identity) telling me that “my cousin” (that was me) had been commissioned in the Royal Air Force on 27.10.43 as a Pilot Officer, and that he had been promoted to Flying Officer on 27.4.44. Well, that was good news and helped to make the day’s task much lighter, for a change. I was even able to celebrate, because the inn-keeper was not averse to selling us a glass of the local brew, through a hatchway in the wall, on the rare occasions after we had received a meagre PoW payment of German money from the railway contractors.
In due course we returned to our old camp at Annaburg. George, Fred and I were put onto "coaling". This entailed unloading coal briquettes from laden railway wagons in a siding. We were given long handled shovels, large clumsy tools to my eye, and we spent many hours shovelling out of the truck on to the ground in the siding. It was unpleasant work. We were smothered in coal dust; it was in our eyes and ears, up our noses and in our mouths. All the time we were under the watchful eye of either the “postern” (the soldier set to guard us) or of the civilian railway employee in charge.
From time to time, we were called out on emergency work to some distant town or city that had been bombed, to fill in craters in the railway yards, repair the lines, and generally help the German war effort to keep on the move. It annoyed us profoundly that we were made to do such work, but apart from protesting there was little we could do about it. Several of us tried to be more positive on one occasion, when we stood around a half-repaired line at a scene of dereliction caused by Allied bombing and refused to pick up our tools and work. Soldiers were quickly called to surround us. The officer in charge told us in no uncertain terms that we would be shot if we did not obey. We didn’t move. He gave orders to the soldiers, they levelled their rifles at us, and he began to count loudly. We quickly got on with the job!