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15 October 2014
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The Army That Didn't March On It's Stomach (Part One)

by Luftgangster

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Archive List > Prisoners of War

Contributed byÌý
Luftgangster
People in story:Ìý
Cecil Room
Location of story:Ìý
Poland 1945 (RAF POW)
Background to story:Ìý
Royal Air Force
Article ID:Ìý
A6085442
Contributed on:Ìý
10 October 2005

Cecil Room recounted his experience of being shot down over Norway in 'There was never a month like it (parts one and two)'.

This is is his moving diary recording the events during the 500 mile forced march from a POW camp in Poland to Belgium during the closing days of the war.

It is an unedited transcript from the scraps of paper which Cecil was able to find along the way.

1945

FEB 6th

Camp-Leader crashes into the barrack at 12.30am and wakes the whole lot of us with the news that we’re being evacuated on foot at 12 noon today. What a bloody panic! Everyone tears around and has a woof of all the outstanding grub. Frank thinks of nothing else but a cup of char. On goes the jug and we bung in all the tea and condensed milk we’ve got. You can stand a spoon upright in the old cup! Then we all climb back into bed again to dream of what lies ahead.

Up bright and early. Noone can sleep and we make last minute adjustments to the home made packs (towel and braces), in which we are carrying our pathetic bundles. Room the refugee! Roll the two blankets up and after a hasty meal of warm spuds in their jackets, plus straw, dirt and grass, we all pile out for 'roll call'. Move off at 11.30 am into the Vorlager and we pass the sentry boxes standing empty and desolate. Never thought we’d see them empty like this! We are issued with a full Red Cross parcel of food and 1/3 loaf of bread. The first bread we’ve seen for a month. Pass by the sick bay where a couple of hundred of our boys are being left behind without protection to await the arrival of the Russians then at 12.30pm we set course. The roads are covered in ice, slush, snow what have you. We pass over the Keifheide road, scene of the famous 'Run up the Road' on July 19th 1944. First eleven Kilos are covered in good time, we are all feeling fresh then we strike out across muddy fields and cart tracks to Naffin where we are bunged into barns for the night.

Freezing cold night and we set off again early. Caked in mud and snow, the old decrepit German cart and sledge are bogged in the lane. We couldn’t care less! Arbeits Kommando 957, Stalag IIID is situated on the farm and we meet French and Canadian POWs. No food issued by the horrible Huns and I have to creep unobserved into the cowshed to get a cup of cold water. Wizard Sleep, we’re all dead tired and during the night a bloody great rat bites me on the cheek, gnawing his way through the straw, one blanket, pullover, scarf and cap. Some teeth!
11 Miles

FEB 7th

Up quite early and we have a slice of bread and cheese before we set out at 9am. Back up the mud caked lane and across a ploughed field to reach the main road. My feet weigh at least 5lbs each with the soil caked on them. Rain and sleet for 8 miles and everyone thoroughly miserable. We shall be sleeping in wet blankets tonight but what do the Germans care? Theirs are perfectly dry on a cart. Everyone is stiff and aching from the first day’s march and after a gruelling 17 miles we reach Reselkow. Another Kommando from Stalag IID here and we meet Canadians from Dieppe. Bloody awful night, no room in barn and again no food from Jerry. Jack and I have had two slices of bread today and a cup of coffee (wet and warm). Boy, do my feet and legs ache?
17 miles

FEB 8th

Off we go at 9am. Stolzenburg 10.15am and at noon we reach the main Stettin — Danzig road. Turn left towards Stettin (70 miles) and we have an opportunity to see how long the column is - 2,000 men, three abreast take up an awful lot of road. Meet many evacuees from the East, with their pathetic heaps of belongings piled up on a makeshift cart, drawn by a horse which looks as though it will drop dead at any moment. We’re just as tired too! While we are having a break for 'lunch', one slice of bread and cheese, a load of French POWs come along the road begging cigarettes from us. They fight among themselves to grab those we offer before the German guards hustle them along. I break the ice of a puddle to get a cup of moderately clean water, my thirst is so great. Hohenifer at 5.30pm after 17 miles, where we expect to bed down for the night. Everyone on his knees with aching legs and sore and blistered feet. We are so tired, wet and miserable. Join the Air Force and learn to fly! Almost collapse when we hear we have to march another three miles over a road knee-deep in snow to an outlying farm. Jack an I end up in a chaff-cutting shed with swedes, turnips and mangolds all around us. Wash our feet in hot water brought to us by a Russian slave worker and I take the old boots off for the first time since we set out. I regret it later on! German guard brings in a bucket of soup for the dogs guarding us. The dogs didn’t even see the soup, some hungry POWs woofed the whole lot.
20 miles

FEB 9th

Some stupid German calls us at 6am with the news that we are marching at 7am. We are due for a day’s rest after three days of marching and I almost weep after the gruelling day we had yesterday. However it is later altered to a day of rest and I’m back on the straw in no time. Spuds issued both morning and afternoon. Bandage my feet and remain horizontal for most of the day.

FEB 10th

Set off at 7am and reach the main road at 8am. Convoys of Army pontoons and soldiers going west, presumably retreating from Joe’s onward drive. One mile on main road to Stettin then turn due west towards Greifenburg along a rough and muddy road. A quarter loaf of bread per man issed here and then we pass through a small village where buckets of cold water, fruit juice and hot ersatz coffee are left by the roadside. What has come over the Germans? Any other time they would have spat at us without hesitation accompanying their spitting efforts with remarks such as 'luftgangsters', 'terrorfleigers' etc. Reach Probbilow at 4.30pm and the Frau supplies hot water to 100 of us. Have my first wash for five days. Feet very wet and blisters still troublesome.
13 miles

FEB 11th

Set out at 8.15am, roads icy, but dry. Sun shining and the blokes are decidedly more cheerful. Griefenburg reached at 10am, the first big town we’ve passed through. I jump on to the pavement to dodge a lorry and get shoved in the gutter by a particularly nasty-looking civilian. Swear under my breath. We see some Frenchmen wearing the flash of the Free French Forces in Germany! Dozens of evacuees on the roads. Reach Kukahn at 2pm and we split up into parties of 100 for each barn in the village. While Jack gets our bed ready, I hobble around the yard and find a French prisoner. Out comes my best French and he comes across with a huge sandwich full of sausage and onions. Just like giving me a three-course dinner and jack and I knock it back at once. Spuds and hot water brought out by the Hausfrau but it is far to cold to strip off and wash. We sleep under a haycart and spend a comfortable night.
13 miles

FEB 12th

Jacks birthday today, he’s 24. Gets an extra cup of water from me for as a present, all I can afford! We hit the road at 8am and hike through a wood for three miles. Volzin at 9am, Dorphagen at 10.15am. One cup of hot macaroni soup issued from Field Kitchen, very nice but I could drink ten cups and still want more. Lutzenhagen at 12.30pm and reach Goerke at 4pm where we have booked rooms for the night! Jack and I sleep in the chaff-cutting joint once more next to the cowshed. Wizard bed and my french gets us some onions, bread and milk from a French POW. Comfortable night and woken at 6.30am by French and Polish prisoners from the farm who want to cut the chaff and turnips.
13 miles

FEB 13th

A day of rest at last, thank heaven! Some generous French prisoners give Jack and myself some porridge and milk, fried spuds and onions. Only decent meal we’ve had for nearly five weeks. We purchase a small sheep for 50 marks from the farmer and the boys slaughter it. Divided among 600 men, my share is as big as a sugar knob. 100 German officers and men have four sheep between them. Higher mathematics as taught by the Fuehrer! Kicked out of our comfortable quarters by an irate farmer who has caught the boys milking the cows. They drained ‘em dry. Deadly night in an old barn with about three feet of straw between Jack and I and on a slope as well. We swear at each other during the night.

FEB 14th

The 'Gentlemen Tramps' move off at the respectable hour of 10am, and cover three miles through ankle deep mud. Then three more miles through a rainstorm and blankets and clothes very very wet. We’re not going far to day, finish at noon and the Germans issue us 1/7 lb of margarine, six dry biscuits (no bread available) and 1/5 lb of corned beef, I smell a big rat! Billeted at Dobberpuhl where the barn leaks like a sieve and rats, and other livestock play a lively tattoo on my chest all night. First taste of bartering. Hobnob with an attractive Fraulein who lives on the farm and for one square of choclate she gives me an egg and 1/3 loaf of bread. Wizard!
6 miles

FEB 15th

My 25th birthday today, my aching back, I feel as though I’m 55. Off we go at 7am and hit the main Swinemude road. On to Tessin at 10am and here we pass three dead horses on the road. Not much left of them, and the dogs attached to the column have a nibble as they go by. I turn up my nose although I’m pretty hungry. If it had been a dead bullock, I might have a go, my mother wouldn’t know. Go through Hagen at 10.30am last town on the main land, and then we cross the bridge to the island and crawl through Wollin. The Huns graciously allow us to rest outside the town after a five mile stretch. We plod on and on and at 7pm we reach Pritter, 2½ miles from the port of Swineunde. Record run today, so my feet tell me anyway. No accommodation in barns so we rough it out in the open or cleared woodland. Make a tent from bracken but it falls down. One cup of soup from mobile kitchen then Jack and I curl up together and we kip down on the grass with my overcoat beneath us. Heavy frost at night and we wake absolutely frozen. Obviously! Can hardly feel my feet. There are now about 1800 of us. Much stealing goes on, blokes lose their food and belongings. It’s tragic when a person robs his pals through hunger. We’ll stick it on the Reparations Bill when it’s all over
28 miles

FEB 16th

Up at 6.30am and hobbling down the main road by 7.30am. After an hours march we reach Swinemunde, The great Baltic Port. The ferry to the second island isn’t due for three hours, so hang around and wait. We’ve had nothing to eat or drink today and the German soldiers and civilians try to sell us cold water for 5 cigarettes a cup. We prefer to go thirsty. We jump on to the ferry at 11.30am and as soon as we get comfortable downstairs it’s time to get off again! On the island, a German soldier sells me 1/6 of a loaf of bread for 20 cigarettes! Sheer robbery but Jack and I are feeling pretty hungry. March through Zirchow at noon and we pass the naval barracks where the boys of the Kreigmarine line up and watch us go by with arrogance written all over them. At Creznow we go into the barns and Jack and myself secure a comfortable berth underneath the threshing machine. We corner a Russian and buy two cattle cakes from him for 5 cigarettes. With a splash of jam on them they are quite appetising. Amazing what we'll eat these days. Hot water dished up
18 miles

FEB 17th

Away by 8.30am and through Usedom at noon after a weary monotonous plod. Last town before the mainland and cross the Parge bridge at 1pm. On cobblestones for five miles and do my feet suffer! I might as well be walking on a bed of nails, it couldn’t hurt any more. Plenty of F.W.190s and M.E.109s circling above us and we pass by their aerodrome. Everyone tired and brassed off after the long trek of the previous two days. Boots drying out at last but I’ve lost the heel of one of them and I walk with a perpetual limp. At Murchin we are herded into barns along with the Russians from Luft 4. Accommodation terrible, no room at all and during the night the Russians crawl over and do a spot of grub-lifting. We’re hungry enough but they’re a darn sight hungrier. The food stakes are grim at the moment. Hardly any cold water available and no hot water at all. Five rotten spuds given to each man. Cold and miserable and morale very low.
16 miles

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