蜜芽传媒

This is the story my Daddy told me.

6978526 Fusilier Eric Armstrong
of the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers
1917 鈥� 2003

As children my sister and I would eagerly await Daddy鈥檚 return from work in the evening. Although we had been tucked in bed for the night we knew, that if we called, he would peep into the bedroom. Amid protests from Mummy that we would never be able to rise in the morning we would implore him to 鈥榯ell us a story鈥�. The bedroom door would close behind him and much to our delight he would sit on the edge of the bed. Sometimes his stories would be based on his life as a child, in what we called 鈥榯he olden days鈥� but our favourite stories were those of his experiences during the war.
鈥楽omeday I鈥檓 going to write a book鈥�, he told us, but the years went by and to our knowledge, pen was never put to paper. It wasn鈥檛 until Mummy died, and Daddy became a resident in a residential home that we found the outline of his planned book. His failing eyesight has robbed him of the opportunity of recording those precious stories. Stories he related to his four children and to many other friends and relations time and time again. I have used my memory of his stories, the notes he left and his own recollections to put together this brief account of his wartime memories. This is the story my Daddy told me.
鈥業 was born on the 9th of June 1917 the third son of Agnes and James Armstrong of Hill Street, Milford. Our home was small, and our lifestyle simple. As time past my brothers Alfie, Jimmy and myself were joined by five other siblings - Ernie, Venie, Leslie, Billy and Cherry.
I was educated in the local elementary school and won a scholarship to the Technical College. I remained there until I reached the age of seventeen 鈥� which was unusual - as the school leaving age was fourteen and my parents were not wealthy people.
My ambition in life was to become a policeman but much to my dismay recruitment to the Royal Ulster Constabulary had ceased and I undertook a number of other jobs while waiting for their recruitment drive to start again. I kerbed my disappointment and donned the uniform of the Supplementary Reserve which was the forerunner of the Territorial Army and was called to the colours when war was declared on the 3rd September 1939. My army career began with approximately three weeks of training in Hayward Heath, which was the main training depot in England. There were several barracks and facilities to train approximately 2,000 men at a time. Having completed our training my comrades and I were posted overseas some to France, others to Norway, Holland and Belgium. On our arrival in France on the 16 September 1939 we joined the French Army which was stationed at Chaunsey Barracks, Le Mans before moving on to the Belgium Frontier for further training. It was while in Comines Belgium on the 1st June the following year that as 6978526 Fusilier Eric Armstrong of the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers I was captured. The Germans pushed forward with tanks, artillery and transport and our division was cut off. My one awful fear and dread was the prospect of running out of ammunition. Even though bullets whistled around me as my comrades fell in battle I relieved them of their ammunition and slung their belts across from my shoulders to my waist. When eventually we ran short of ammunition our division of approximately 40,000 men were captured by the Germans. Much to their amusement I was heavily laden with belt upon belt of ammunition, my personal arsenal. My capturers enquired 鈥楢re you trying to win the war single-handed?鈥�
We were prepared for transfer to a prisoner of war camp and expected a long march to Stalag XXA at Turron in Poland but as the Germans had already captured the railway stations and trains they transported us and we were spared the long march.
While my comrades and I pondered over our future in Stalag XXA my parents, didn鈥檛 receive notification that I was 鈥榤issing in action from the Record Office until the 27th July. Almost three months later on the 19th October 1940 they received further notification which stated that 鈥�6978526 Fusilier Eric Armstrong was in 鈥淪talag (Camp) XXA Germany 鈥� Prisoner of War number 11744: Captured at Comines 27.5.40: He is well.鈥�

However, life was not easy during the five years in which I was a POW. The harsh winter of 1940 and very poor conditions in Stalag XXA were almost unbearable but with the help of a friend, Paddy Ramsey, I obtained work in the tailor鈥檚 shop and was able to escape the freezing outdoor temperatures. As well as tailoring I spent some time working with a road building group in Elbing 鈥渁 terrible place were the work was a torture鈥� and on a State Farm. My experience of farming proved invaluable when in the spring of 1941, I was sent to the farm of Konrad Sprengel in Kamien, North West Poland. Konrad Sprengel was of Polish descent and his wife Antonia was German by birth. As a result the children were bi-lingual and I learnt the German language in order to be able to communicate with the family. During the following three and a half years I worked the land and became an integral part of the large Sprengel family. Our friendship and trust of each other continued to develop even after the death of the Sprengels鈥� eldest son Leo who was in the German Army. Although being a POW was not an ideal situation I thanked God for the Sprengel family who were very good to me during those difficult years.
In January 1945 as the Germans stared defeat in the face and the Russian troops were closing in on Poland, I and my fellow POWs were instructed by our German officer to prepare to leave Kamien for Germany. However, when I saw that the guards for the journey were the feared and brutal S.S. I realised that my only chance of survival was to escape. I made known my plans to the Sprengel family and they assured me of their help should I succeed in my bit for freedom. We left Kamein in the heart of winter and travelled for several days through the snow-covered woods on guarded sleighs. One evening as we rested up for the night, I and two Englishmen, seized the opportunity to escape. While visiting a wooden toilet block, we left by the back door, climbed over a wall and hid in the adjoining forest. The next day we parted company. My comrades decided to make their way to the railway but I thought it best to return to the Sprengel family. I travelled alone for nine days through the bitter cold to Kamien and a warm welcome from the Sprengel family. A few days later the advancing Russian troops and retreating Germans fought a pitched battle only yards from the barn in which I was hiding. Dodging the bullets I ran to join the family in the air raid shelter. Eventually, when all was quiet we left the shelter. I was met by three young Russian soldiers. They were unsure as to whether or not I was a friend or foe. Fortunately, a young Russian girl I knew, who worked in the village, was able to act as interpreter for me. A few days later I was transported from Kamien to Bromberg with other POWs. There, through a multilingual Croat POW, I persuaded the Russian forces to take all of the POWs by cattle truck to Odessa.
My parents had no news of my whereabouts from before the time of my escape until April when they received a letter from the Infantry Record Office in Perth dated the 9th April informing them that I was on my way home.
This information I was able to confirm in my two letters dated 10th and 20th April. For my family the wait until my return home must have seemed very long but for me the five years I had spent as a prisoner of war were like an eternity. So much had happened in those years. I, and my family were five years older and I could not wait to see my younger siblings and to witness the changes in their growth from the day I left Milford.
At last I returned to Southampton and after a few days rest I travelled onward to Belfast where on arrival on the 9th May I sent a telegram 鈥楢rrived safely hope to see you soon. Eric.鈥� Much to my delight on arrival that Thursday afternoon at Irish Street Railway Stop I was met not only by my family but the village band and most of the inhabitants of Milford who proudly escorted me home to the strains of 鈥楩or he鈥檚 a jolly good fellow鈥� and a wonderful party. Further celebrations followed as The Office Bearers and Members of Armagh Baptist Tabernacle also held a Social Evening on Monday the 11th June 1945 in the City Hall in my honour. I could hardly believe that at long last I was back in the bosom of my family and friends.
Life slowly returned to normal. I resumed the nursing career I had begun before the war. Met and married my wife Nan and set up home in Umgola on the outskirts of Armagh. I never forgot the kindness of the Sprengels family and endeavoured to keep in close contact with them but unfortunately when we moved to live in Armagh City I lost their addresses. Many years followed 鈥� I often thought of them but was at a lost as to how I could contact them until one day in the local library I came across the name of the village in which they lived. I wrote to a letter to Martha and sent it to the local newspaper. They forwarded it to Hans Sprengel, Martha鈥檚 brother who still lived in the village and set it to Martha who was now living and working in Berlin with her sister Toni. Much to my amazement all of the family started to write and for several years we corresponded on a regular basis. Then in June 1979 my wife Nan and I decided to visit Poland to renew old friendships. Much to my delight Martha and Toni joined us and the other members of the family in Poland. The visit was a very moving and memorable one for all concerned 鈥� a celebration of a friendship, which had spanned three decades and which started with war鈥�.

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My Daddy鈥檚 story did not end with this visit to Poland 鈥� if anything the friendship between the two families became more important at time passed by. Gradually one by one the Sprengel family have died and there is now only one surviving member Toni.
Letters, cards and photographs have winged their way between the two countries since 1945 and when Daddy鈥檚 eyesight began to fail I undertook the task of keeping the friendship alive by corresponding with the Sprengel family on his behalf. Toni does not speak English and I have no knowledge of German but we are able to communicate without any problems. Toni has a neighbour who is able to translate my letters for her and in turn I use one of the translation services available on the Internet to convert her letters into English.
It was with sadness that I had to inform her of Mummy鈥檚 death on the 16 September 2002 and just ten months later to relay the news of Daddy鈥檚 death on the 16 July 2003. I was afraid that she would no longer wish to correspond with me as her friendship had been with Daddy and in later years with Mummy but I am delighted to say that the friendship which started so long ago still continues.
It wasn鈥檛 until I received a letter from Toni at Christmas in which she stated that she no longer went out much as she was getting older that I suddenly realised that Toni must be in her late seventies or early eighties and I decided I would like to meet her. When I put this suggestion to my husband he was not in favour of the making the journey to Berlin as he felt it was something that Loretta my sister and I should undertake on behalf of the Armstrong family. Although I don鈥檛 speak German my sister Loretta does and when I asked her to accompany me she simply said 鈥榳hen?鈥� We contacted Toni who was delighted that we should wish to visit her and made arrangements for a short stay in Berlin. Toni who is in her eightieth year welcomed us with open arms to her home where we also had the privilege of not only meeting our father鈥檚 old friend but Toni鈥檚 niece Monika from Poland and her children Ania (20) and Christopher (24). Monika and her family made a journey of almost 300 miles to meet us in Berlin. Through the use of English, German, Polish, drawings and amid lots of laughter as we attempted to understand each other our two families had a wonderful reunion. I had brought with me Mummy and Daddy鈥檚 photograph album of their visit to Poland in 1979. It brought back many happy memories of the occasion for Toni and for Monika who had married just five months before Mummy and Daddy鈥檚 visit to Poland. We had planned to visit Toni for just a couple of hours as we thought there may have been difficulty in communicating and we did not wish to over tire her but instead of a short visit we had the pleasure of having lunch with the family in a local restaurant and then returned to Toni鈥檚 apartment for coffee and later champagne to celebrate our visit. We spend further happy hours looking through the Sprengel鈥檚 family album, and getting to learn something of each other鈥檚 culture. Ania and Christopher both learnt English in school. Ania and I correspond by emails, as she wanted to improve her English. Her knowledge of the English language proved invaluable. Although Christopher was reluctant to speak English at the start of our meeting in a short while he also joined in. My sister and I hope to return the hospitality shown to us by Toni and Monika in Berlin later this year as Ania and Christopher are planning to visit Ireland in August. We have also been invited by Monika to visit Poland and the site of the old farm where our Daddy worked 60 years ago. It was only when we visited Toni鈥檚 home that we fully realized just how much he meant to them, and they to him. Their friendship stood the test of time and spanned war and peace. As our visit came to an end and we returned by taxi to our hotel in central Berlin Loretta realised that our visit had occurred exactly one week in advance of Daddy鈥檚 return to Milford on the 9 May 1945. In planning our visit we did not realize that it was the 60th anniversary of Daddy鈥檚 return to Ireland 鈥� we just felt it was the right time to go. If Daddy were alive today we know he would have been delighted that we made this journey the Sprengels鈥� and Armstrongs鈥� will be forever friends.

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