- Contributed byÌý
- Luftgangster
- People in story:Ìý
- Cecil Albert Room
- Location of story:Ìý
- Poland 1945 (RAF POW)
- Background to story:Ìý
- Royal Air Force
- Article ID:Ìý
- A6090004
- Contributed on:Ìý
- 11 October 2005
The Army That Didn’t March On It’s Stomach
(PART THREE)
An Authentic Diary of The Forced March Undertaken By RAF POWs
MAR 6th
Up at 6.30am and we set off again at 8.30am. Very tired and stiff after yesterday’s long trek. Cover 8 miles to Mecklow with only a short rest half way. Then half an hour’s rest sitting on the dirt by the roadside. Yet more spuds. Then a long hike of nearly ten miles without a rest through Jungershof, Alt Schwerin and Karow. Look longingly at a line of goods trucks drawn up in the station. Sign-post by roadside reads Berlin 177k. Neuebrandenburg 80k, Rostock 74k. Seven more dead horses by the road with the flesh hacked off by hungry dogs and probably Germans as well. I hope they starve! Reach Walnshof at 4.15pm and Jack and I sleep with the pigs, smelly but very warm. Scrounge a can of potato salad from a farm worker and a can of milk. I answer the call of nature on a pig during the night and unconsciously apologise to him. Jack thinks it very amusing.
18 miles
MAR 7th
Another day of rest and are we grateful! A can of real milk for breakfast along with four spuds. Lay down on some straw all morning to rest our aching limbs. Three brews during the day and a can of barley soup. We have a wash and a shave and a general clean up in the sty along with the pigs. The first war wallahs have nothing on us. They can no longer crow about the mud they used to plough through. As usual, when we rest it’s perishing cold outside. Some of the boys help the old farmer to pull down a tree, presumably hoping for some extra grub. Tree goes down but nothing to eat. The Germans issue 1/2 loaf per man and 1/2 oz. of margarine per man to last six long days. Jack and I suck two squares of chocolate each in bed and it lasts twenty minutes. The highlight of my life these days!
Nil
MAR 8th
Staying here again today. The German High Command must be in a flat spin. However, we’re grateful for the respite. Room is out and bright and early and in the cowshed pinching a can of milk. I think I’ll join the Land Army for the next war. We lunch early today at 11am and it’s a two course affair, one spud and a spoonful of cooked swede! Sew a few buttons on my pants but if any more part company with me, I’ve had it —no wool or cotton left. A few more spuds appear in the evening, moderate ration, plus a can of soup that I buy from a German young boy for one cigarette. He’ll smoke himself to death before nightfall. I pinch some more milk but a German farmhand catches me and knocks the whole lot into my face and swears furiously. Didn’t even have the chance to swallow any. Jack finds it amusing but I certainly don’t. Last half bar of chocolate in bed. Never will I be without chocolate when I get home.
Nil
MAR 9th
Up at 6am, and a really hot brew this time. Ferdy has done well in the old cookhouse. Some oats just before we leave help to fill the gap in the stomach. Off once more at 8.15am across frozen cart tracks for three miles to Penzlin. It’s a miracle there are no broken ankles. Gallin railway station at 10.30am and we look jealously at a German officer who has just come on leave to be greeted by his Frau. We see a German clad in a warm RAF flying coat exercising horses. For two miles we hit the best road surface yet. Then through mud, cart tracks and ploughed fields to Diestelow where we stop for the rest of the day. Only 11 miles today but the rough surface has sapped all our energy. A few biscuits and corned dickey on arrival and a brew comes up in half an hour. Bad dose of Diarrhoea (how the hell do you spell it?) for the rest of the day and night. It seems it’s my turn for dysentery, the complaint most prevalent these days. Spuds and a can of thick soup during the evening and I can’t touch any. Sleepless night, up quite a few times.
11 miles
MAR 10th
Rest to day, thank heavens! I don’t think I could stagger out of the farmyard today, I feel so weak and tired. Two spuds at 11am and a drop of barley. Jack working in the cookhouse today, a good thing because he does a deal with the German civvies and brings back 1/2 loaf of bread for 20 cigarettes and a square of chocolate. I'm suffering and visiting the slit trench every hour and just make it several times. Another air raid last night.
Nil
MAR 11th
Rest of the column move off but I feel too weak to march so I go in the sick wagon. Divide what bit of grub we have in case I don’t see Jack at the other end. We pass through Passow at 9.15am and Lubz at 10.15am. Deserted towns, typical Sunday morning atmosphere. At Beckendorf by 11.15am where Doc Pollock and half the column are now quartered plus the soup wagon. Cup of hot water then on to Lanken. A further three miles where I rejoin the barrack who catch us up later. The sick wagon is an old wooden affair, a real bone shaker and my stomach suffers. Jump off wagon six times during the journey making a total of 32 during the last 48 hours. Crowded barn but Jack gets past a German guard by jumping the ditch at the back. Drops his cup and faithful walking stick in the Scheise! Farmer appears later, waving a scythe on discovering five litres of milk missing. The boys have been at it again. Even worse later when he reports that a number of chickens have disappeared. He threatens to shoot a few of the boys in the morning but diplomat Clarke talks him round with the aid of the Hauptmann. Deadly night, insomnia and dysentery. I have a hell of a job to get to the trench with blokes bodies and feet in the way. I want to go home! Another heavy air raid at night.
9 miles
MAR 12th
Up early, not much use staying in bed. Have to jump out as soon as I hit the straw! Hot drink at 9am and we are then moved back to Beckendorf in the large barn. Presumably this farmer will be glad to see the back of us. Quite a few of his chickens have met a hasty death since we arrived. After all, a bloke must eat. No wagon available so I stagger along somehow. Dysentery is deadly, sometimes I think I’ll never see home again! Only two miles but I have to fall out half a dozen times. We pass the padre, Rev. Morgan, on the road. He’s one of the boys and looks as much of a tramp as any of us. He could have ridden the whole way but not him. One of the best. Reach the village fagged out and bless Jack for carrying half my kit. Good lad! Spend the rest of the day on the straw, under my blankets, both of them. With the wind howling through the decrepit barn. 1/2 loaf of bread and 1oz margarine issued. Another accident, I am now minus a pair of trousers. Have to go out seven times altogether in the night and am abused and sworn at and whacked with a rifle butt by the guard who calls me an English pig. I’d dearly love to see him in the same predicament.
2 miles
MAR 13th
Have to divide out pitiful stock of food once more as I’m going into 'Hospital'. This consists of twenty beds of straw in the farmers pigsties. Wish Jack could come with me, I feel so darned helpless. Doc brings me a can of mint tea, helps to brighten me up a little. But I don’t stay there very long as I’ve got to go another four miles on the wagon because there’s no room here. The place is overcrowded now with so many chaps suffering from frostbite and horrible blisters. Still haven’t got my trousers, so I wrap myself in a blanket. Cold, miserable journey on the wagon in a heavy rainstorm. Blankets get soaked. Four miles through Lanken again to Stalzendorf. Horrible barn, freezing inside and the rain coming in. I’m past caring. Hardly any sleep, two packs and two bales of straw fall on me from the loft above. My stomach is feeling better.
4 miles
MAR 14th
Move again at 7am on the wagon. Haven’t eaten a thing except a spoonful of fish during the last 48 hours. Terrible journey over ploughed fields. Barn accomodation at Moderitz not bad at all but food stakes pretty grim by now. Doesn’t affect me today, my poor old stomach is still beyond any form of food. Got into make-shift bed of straw at noon on arrival. Raining like hell outside and I feel so miserable and depressed that it’s the best place to be. Barracks 8, 9 and 10 arrive two hours later. They’re getting a grim deal all round. I break my fast (56 hours) with a slice of cold toast. Hunger bloody acute by now but daren’t eat anything more. Square of chocolate in bed, lasts 20 minutes. Out 4 times in the night but manage to sleep as well. Quite a pleasant change after the insomnia spell. Still no food issued by the the Germans.
9 miles
MAR 15th
Stay in bed all day, rest does wonders. Have a few small spuds at midday and a handful of carrots. Very hungry but scared to eat any more in case the old complaint returns. Glorious sunshine all afternoon. Have a bath in a bucket, clean my teeth and wash a few clothes. I feel happier, a wash and brush up makes a load of difference. Another square of chocolate in bed, make this one last a long, long time as I’ve hardly eaten at all today. Much better night’s rest, although I’m up several times again. Main trouble is weakness now. The boys here are in a grim state. No Red Cross food, hardly any bread and our food for a day consists of a few spuds and a cup of watery soup. They cannot continue to march much longer without a high rate of sickness. Can count my ribs quite easily now and I don’t suppose I’m more than 7 stones. We are told we are to proceed to Ludwigslust, 20 miles away and then transport will be provided. Camp Leaders have been in touch with the Red Cross Distribution Centres at Lubeck. Need for parcels is vital. The Germans can’t or won’t feed us. We have been on the road 37 days, covered 288 miles and our food supplies have been 2 loaves, 4/5 lb margarine, 2/11 lb meat (from the Germans) and 3 food parcels from the Red Cross. Speaks for itself I think.
Nil
MAR 16th
Sick party moves again at 7am on the old bone shaker. Three miles to Parchim, through the town and on for eight miles in the direction of Ludwigslust, which is now nine miles away. Old lady and gent of some 80 summers come up to the cart and start knocking the boys about with their walking sticks until the guards call them off. Cold ride but we’re there at 1pm and wait for Barracks 1-4 to arrive with their chow wagon. The joint is called Durchow, pretty miserable spot and no food at all for us. The farmer is a Heil Hitler man. The 'GI’s' are clearing up now but I’m starving like everyone else. Picked up a dirty old piece of bread this morning, weeks old, but I scraped it and chewed it. Better than nothing anyway. If my poor old mother could see me now. Probably tell me I shouldn’t have joined! Barracks 1-4 arrive at 3pm. With soup wagon and at 6pm we have a cup of thin watery soup with a piece of carrot in it. I’ve been waiting since 9am with my tongue hanging out. 'Wo ist der fleish und kartoffels?' Have my one remaining square of chocolate and go to bed. At least I can’t yearn for grub when I’m asleep. The bloke sleeping next to me has been without food, apart from 5 spuds and a cup of soup, for three days. He eats two slices of bread and is violently sick. Poor devil, I’d like to help him, but have now’t myself. Some blokes have been like that for four days and marching 15 miles a day in all weathers.
12 miles
MAR 17th
Brew of sweet mint tea from the wagon at 7am and the Yanks, Barracks 1-4, move off at 8am. On the last lap (so we are told) to Ludwigslust. Sick party remaining here for a day, as no wagon is available and I’m sure I wouldn’t last more than one mile with kit on my back. Several blokes attempt the struggle, counting on a food parcel issue the other end. I hope their efforts are rewarded. No food available for the 30 of us until the next big party arrives about 3pm. They eventually turn up at 4pm and the Germans issue a 1/4 loaf bread and 1/8 lb of margarine to last for four days. 2 spuds come up at 5 o’clock plus the dirtiest, thinnest soup I’ve ever seen, 90% water and 10% cabbage. Can read the name of the maker on the bottom of my tin! Go to bed feeling very, very hungry but manage to sleep OK. I dream a wonderful dream of never ending plates of fish and chips. I’d pay 20 quid for some right now, if only I had 20 quid.
Nil
MAR 13th Rest at Beckendorf. Feeling terrible.
MAR 15th
Up at 6am for a cup of thin stew and a slice of bread and soon on the road for Lanken, Stalzendorf and Neuehoff along cart tracks then to Zielslurbe. Mint tea and a raw spud from the Huns after dark.
11 miles.
MAR 16th
Good night’s rest. 1 slice of bread and half an egg for breakfast which I bought for 5 cigarettes. Hear we move on Sunday and two days should finish the march. Good show! Feel very tired and rest most of the day.
MAR 17th
Tea and egg sandwich for breakfast. Fair spud ration comes up and I buy a slice of bread for a tiny spot of Klim jam.
MAR 18th
Up at 6am and after a measly breakfast off along the old cart tracks once more to Damn through Spornitz to Durchow.
MAR 19th
I don’t feel at all and I collapse on the road so I get to ride on the sick wagon. Leave Durchow at 8am to Brenz where we pass groups of the army boys who called in at Luft 4 on their way down from Danzig. That must be about 500 miles back up the road! We yell at one another and I think of the good old Army cry 'Are we downhearted? It’s a most emphatic 'No!'. It takes more than a bunch of Huns to get us down. You’d think we were meeting each other in Piccadilly on a night out! I think that’s what the Brass Hats mean when they talk about 'esprit de corps'. Off down the road to Blievensdorf, then Muchow at 11am. Stop for a roadside picnic of one slice of bread and a tiny piece of spam. If a horse ran by I’d think I was at Newmarket in the good old days of peace. Roadside news bulletin! Another five miles to go and they’re giving us some bread tonight! Up goes the old morale. Zierzow at 1pm and Murchenbecker at 2pm. where we pack in for the day. Find Barracks 8,9 and 10 already here, and they’ve pinched all the best spots in the barn. Further outlook — bloody! On my old benders but a slice of bread and a cup of ersatz coffee sets me up once more. Germans issue 3/8 loaf to each man. There’s a dirty great crust on our piece. The bread is hard and stale but delicious with a small piece of Spam. Couldn’t sleep at all, dreaming wild dreams of freedom. My God, what I won’t do when that day dawns.
13 miles
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