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The Army That Didn’t March On It’s Stomach
(PART TWO)

FEB 18th

Set course at 9.15am and after five miles we reach Anklam which had been pounded by the yanks quite a few times. Plenty of evidence here and the civilians give us particularly sour looks. One old gaffer waves his walking stick threateningly, quite near me and I put on a spurt. My poor old feet complain too! Weary hike for another 8 miles to Nerdin where we are rewarded with a good barn and a generous farmer for a pleasant change. Hot water in a tub and I have a shave, wash and even clean my teeth! Three hot brews and a cup of pea soup in a trough so we make the most of it. Wonderful soup made in a milk tin from spuds, hot water, one onion and breadcrumbs. Funny how a wash, shave and some food sends our morale up by leaps and bounds.
13 miles

FEB 19th

Cup of coffee and soup before we leave at 7.30am. Learn that the German High Command have ordered all Burgermeisters not to issue spuds to prisoners so we’re in a sorry spot. If we have to rely on our minute quantities of Red Cross food we’ll never see England again - I’m sure of it. Several blokes have disappeared from the column which gets smaller every day. Where the hell they are, we don’t know. Bit risky buzzing off at the moment, with the food situation as it is and the Germans are rather panicky with the trigger finger. Dead straight road for nine miles, terribly monotonous. Long 'lunch' interval, the Germans must be getting tired as well. Not much use giving us all this time, we’ve nothing to eat so might as well go on walking to get a bit nearer home. Turn off to main Berlin-Neubrandenburg road. Berlin is 100miles to the S.W. Walk through woods later past an Italian POW camp and here see a brutal German guard flogging a dog with a whip and a stick and hate written all over his ugly face. Reach a farm at Seltz, but no room for us there. Issued with a cup of hot green water (pea soup) from the mobile kitchen and then we plod on by moonlight with the boys singing some good old Army songs. After three miles we hit Hermannshohe and it's almost impossible trying to fix up some sleeping space in the darkness. Jack and I end up in a cellar with cobwebs and rats all over the place. Some bright spark decides that our cellar is the latrine during the night. I never cursed so much an all my life.
18 miles

FEB 20th

Day of rest is proclaimed and about time too. We’ve been on the plod for six days and our plates of meat are crying out for a break. I pinch a cup of fresh milk from a willing cow in the cowshed and after seven spuds for breakfast I am violently sick. We’ve had very little food lately and a big feed of spuds was too much for me. I sell Auntie’s blue pullover that I was wearing when I was shot down and a couple of Polish slave workers give me ½ loaf of bread and some cooked beans. Cold and miserable all day so decide on going to bed early. Lots of the boys are cooking the ears of wheat that they’ve stolen from the barn and are trying to make a cereal but not very successfully. We learn that we have five miles to cover tomorrow, then sixteen miles the next day to Neubrandenburg where we are to stay in a Stalag. I’ll believe that when we get there. These Germans change their tactics too many times.
Nil

FEB 21st

Off at 9.45am. Miss the soup issue, not enough to go around. First four miles up a muddy cart track and I’m pretty puffed at the end of it. The German guards buy bread in the village. Poor propoganda! They can’t even feed their own troops, let alone us poor prisoners. Do a deal with a guard on the roadside, 1/6 loaf of bread and a hunk of lard for twelve dirty damp cigarettes. I'm sick by the roadside later on. Do I feel grim? Getting pretty weak these days but have to plod on somehow. At Gutzhow we are housed in a decent barn and we get a liberal issue of spuds. At this farm there is a girl who was in Boston U.S.A. in the middle of January as an internee and has just been repatriated. What the hell she came back to this mess for, I just can’t imagine! The Yanks look at her goggle-eyed, they can’t believe that she was in the goddam States so recently. But they all draw the line at speaking to her. Hot brew and spuds at 5pm and we then hit the hay. For me it’s the warmest and most comfortable night since we began the hike but poor old Jack is in a deadly state. He’s been eating some of the cooked beans that we traded for my pullover and they’re playing havoc with his stomach. I didn’t touch them hungry though I was. He’s up half the night and has a job to make the door over the mass of sprawling bodies. Guards refuse to let him out of the barn and it’s just too bad on the bloke sleeping by the door!
7 miles

FEB 22nd

A day of rest! We remain in the pit till late then queue for 1½ hours for one cup of lukewarm water. Peel a few spuds in the farm yard and at 4pm we are issued with a cup of soup, hot water and five more spuds. I get fatter every day - I don’t think. Anyway, it’s hot, and it warms us a little. Put the flag out! Ther Germans issue some rations — 2/5 loaf of bread, 1/11 lb meat (stinking corned beef) and 1/4lb of margerine. The Army can again march on it’s stomach, for a few miles anyway. Jack groggy all day is very weak at the moment — I don’t think I’ve seen him look so ill. Don’t feel so good myself either. Stomach weak and sick three times today.
Nil

FEB 23rd

Jack was too ill to march, so gets on the sick wagon. He needs someone with him so I tag along. A very bumpy ride over cart tracks and our stomachs turn over several times en route. Pass through village with a funeral in progress at the early hour of 9am. The poor bastard in the coffin couldn't care who wins the war. Our two horses are exhausted after pulling the wagon through deep mud! Change horses and take on four this time. Reminds me of the stage coach era. Kleef Bahnof 12.30pm. Rosenow 1.15pm. Arrive at Briggow, our billet for the night, at 3pm and get decent accommodation in the barn along with the sick party. Hot water and spuds in the evening and my hunger is appeased somewhat! Auspicious occasion, as I clean my teeth and have a wash in the pig trough.
12 miles

FEB 24th

Programme seems uncertain so we stay here today. Have two cups of soup, two sandwiches and a hot brew. I even shave and wash and then lay on the straw for the rest of the day. Feeling that life is indeed good, compared with the last week or two. Two men were taken out during the night with internal trouble and we hear later that they died. The total number of deaths is now nine that we know of.
Nil

FEB 25th

Rest. Pea soup twice today and by evening time I regret having it. I hate peas but when there’s nowt else I have to eat them. No chance of a deal of any kind as the guards are watching the slave workers pretty closely. Monotonous day, just laze on the straw. Feeling weak inside but Jack much better than he was.
Nil

FEB 26th

The Doc works a miracle and up comes a cup of barley at noon, and again at 5pm. German doctor visits the barn during the day and arranges for the removal of the worst cases to hospital. Believe me, you’ve got to be half dead to be among them. I’m not sure which is best — going into dock or carrying on with the hike. With super diplomacy we carry off a big deal — 1/2 a loaf of bread and some cold chicken for half a can of coffee and three squares of chocolate. Jack and I grin at each other with delight. You’d imagine we were at the Lord Mayor’s Banquet eating off his gold plate. Out table manners disappeared completely as we greedily scoffed the legs of the chicken, held in our hands. No time to waste on forks!
Nil

FEB 27th

We finish off the scraps of the chicken for breakfast along with a hunk of Polish bread and margarine that I pinched. Barley again for lunch and at 5pm also. Very sleepless night and we’re very overcrowded, more blokes falling sick every day.
Nil

FEB 28th

Hands too damn cold to write. Shivering all day in a very draughty barn into which we have moved this morning. One man died today from an infection on his knee. Lack of medical supplies now very serious but a ray of sunshine appears on this wet dismal day. A truckload of Red Cross parcels arrives brought from Lubeck on a wagon supplied by the American Red Cross and running on Swiss petrol. The Huns can’t give us anything it seems. Issue of one parcel each which has to last till the end of the march and heaven know’s when that will be. Goody, goody, I have a stand up bath in the farmers kitchen today. I had to due to an accident! The water was lukewarm, about three inches deep but I’ve a vivid imagination. Feel tons better after it.
Nil

FEB 29th

Rain and a very high wind today and very cold too. But maybe it’s the fact that our resistance is almost nil. My feet are just frozen the whole of the time. Barley twice again and I pinch some spuds out of the farmers clamp and Des Grealy cooks them for us. We’re so damned hungry we eat 1½ cans of spuds each. Dirty great holes in the roof and the rain comes in and the wind blows like fury. I wonder what Jon hall of 'The Hurricane' would do if he were here.
Nil

MAR 2nd

Another man dies in hospital. Hands and feet frozen and unable to peel our few spuds so we eat them with the jackets on. Deadly business answering the call of nature in the open air. Half a bloody gale blows around your rear! Not at all funny. Stay under the blanket and overcoat most of the day, warmest place by far.
Nil

MAR 3rd

Up at 8am for a cup of German coffee and some cold cooked spuds. Frozen as usual. I’ve almost forgotten what it is to be warm. At 12.30pm we leave the farm after our long rest. Five miles to Luplow along cart tracks and ploughed fields. At least we are a little warmer on the march. Good billet, eight of us in a small barn and Jack and I cook some stolen spuds over a wood fire outside and along with a stolen onion they taste delicious! Comfortable night but feet cold as usual.
5 miles

MAR 4th

Up at 7am and off at 8.30am in a perishing snowstorm with the slow party, mostly semi-sick chaps. We go so slowly, I even think a snail would pass us. Our blankets are soon wet and frozen stiff. Decide to rejoin the mob as soon as we can, this pace is killing us! Pass Don having the usual by the roadside in a snowstorm. Bit draughty. See three dead horses by the roadside. I almost envy them their peace. Many evacuees from Stettin area. Get 1/4 loaf from a guard for ten battered and broken cigarettes. Slice of bread donated by the only good hearted Hun in Germany. Vossfeld 1pm, Marhin 1.45pm, Musselhagen 2pm, Rockow then Muckelhei for the night. Hot brew as soon as we bed down, feeling tired out, miserable and weak as a drowned rat. Early night.
14 miles

MAR 5th

Off at 8.30am with 1/6 loaf of bread and 1/5 parcel of Red Cross food issued on the roadside. I carry the whole parcel for five miles then Ferdie kindly divides it up! Brassed off. Air raid in progress, plenty of fighters and vapour trails at 20,000 feet! Wo ist der Luftwaffe? The USAAF are very much in evidence. Hear the bombs dropping. Lovely sound, but too near for my liking. Waren at 11.30 am, long trek through the town and we all feel hungry at the sight of food in the shops, and civilians dining in the local restaurant. An old codger gives me a kick in the pants as I go past, apparently he hates us. I can’t do a thing, just swear like fury under my breath. Pass a Stalag on the other side of the town and wish to hell we could go in there. Roads improving now and we are off the cobblestones that are so prevalent in German towns but at the same time we’re just about on our knees. Guess we stiffened up when we rested too long. Passed through the town of Klink at 3pm then off into the woods and reach Warnhof at 4.30pm. Can barely take another step. Good barn, we sleep under a wagon but still get trodden on during the night. Norman Stokes crawls 100 yards on hands and knees then has an accident in his pants. Too funny for words! Five spuds and hot water along with two slices of bread and a biscuit. Some feed tonight!

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