‘Did you get the water, Chas?’
‘Oh, shit! I forgot.’
Still, we all had a good smoke, sharing a couple of the ciggies, bartering the rest for some extra bread from a guard.
27 February 1945. It was a brilliant moonlit night when we crossed the frozen river Elbe. There was a full moon which shone like a search light, illuminating everything in a mysterious ghostly glow. We couldn’t see the other side so it was an act of a faith to cross where we did because it could have been miles wide.
There were people making their way across this frozen highway going in both directions so this was obviously a good sign; our guards must have thought that we could all get across. There wasn’t any bridge; it was just one foot in front of the other slow and sure, all the way across the frozen water. If I had fallen through the ice that would have been it. I would have drowned or died of hypothermia. This was a different sort of cold. Imagine this: the freezing cold under your feet, rising up your legs and into your body; and all around, air like needles of ice in your eyes and face, in your nose, your throat and lungs. It literally took your breath away.
It was best not to look down and think about what I was walking on. Some of us held on to each other to keep steady. We just had to keep going as though it was the most normal thing in the world, to be walking on a skating rink. I told myself it was like going along the High Street or down Movers Lane as we passed other people. There was us, with our German guards, leaving the east to get away from the Russian advance, and we were passing German soldiers going west to meet the Red Army.
I did feel sorry for the civilians I saw. There was a family carrying all their worldly possessions piled up in a small hand cart; others with a couple of back packs and a basket. A woman with a baby all swaddled up inside the front of her coat clutched her husband’s hand as he tried to keep his balance with a large bundle strapped to his back. We passed an elderly couple hunched over in the cold struggling under the weight of the loads. They had two cows with them and they had put sacks on the ice under the creatures’ feet and were trying to keep the animals moving and the sacks in place under their hooves, so they didn’t slip. How long it took them to cross, I don’t know. What hardship these poor folk suffered! They had lost everything except what they had with them.
It was possibly half a mile to a mile walk across to the other side of the river. We found somewhere to rest for a while and then continued our journey, going south as we made our way towards – where? Nobody knew. Sometimes you just wanted to sit down and never get up again but common sense prevailed and your pals pulled you up onto your feet and off you went. A few more camps on the way, more bombed towns, lines of men marching, more zig-zagging towards some unknown destination.
March 6
Still on March
At present having a few days rest.
Have received Red X
1 parcel 2 men
1 parcel 3 men.
We never knew when or where we would stop for the night and whether we would find anything decent to eat. I know we received some Red Cross parcels along the way; presumably at the stalags. We were certainly owed a few from the many times we never received our fair share at Langenau. Later on when we were ordered to clear up bombed sites, we had some proper meals from field kitchens which had been set up. It was like being back in a work detachment. We were in no fit state to work, but we had to. Exhausted and weak as we were at least it was a change from the marching and relief for our poor old feet. More importantly, there was the chance of some real hot food.
March 16
Today’s dinner (few spuds in jackets)
Boiled barley & meat for tea
(about 10lb barley & 5lb meat) 100 men
We used to arrive somewhere for the night to find forty or fifty prisoners already camping out, water boiling on a small stove, somebody cooking food over a fire. If their guards had managed to get some food for the company then that was their good luck. ‘Sorry, mate, you can’t have any. We were here first.’ They weren’t going to share anything with us. If they had got the best spot, they weren’t going to move. We still kept a sharp eye open in case somebody dropped some food or left a scrap. We were careful to keep quiet about any food we had, particularly anything from a Red Cross parcel. That was very precious cargo. I’m not saying I was attacked for it, although I know others were. Everybody was desperately hungry although I think we managed starvation better than many who had been living in better conditions in their camps, receiving regular Red Cross parcels and not having to work 12 hours day on a farm, in a quarry or down a mine.
I’m not sure when it was that I met Tommy Harrington again. I heard a voice one day, ‘All right, Charlie?’ and I looked up and saw him. We had stopped for a breather somewhere and he was with his group of men.
‘Tommy!’ I was delighted to see him. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘How you doing for food?’
‘Not too bad. This and that,’ and I told him about finding fish heads and geese legs. ‘And potatoes,’ and I showed him a couple I had in my pocket. ‘Want one?’
‘I’ll swap you a bit of salt,’ and he ferreted about inside his coat and took out a twist of paper. ‘Here. That’ll make ’em tasty.’
And he went off. ‘Best of luck.’ What an extraordinary coincidence!
Heb has dropped out.
This was a sad loss to us. Down to four. The first time in five years we five pals were apart. Heb was never very strong but he managed to keep going nearly to the end of our ordeal. He suffered from heart trouble although we didn’t know it then. It all got too much for him. He had felt unwell for a couple of days but we managed to help him keep going, carrying him between us at one point but it finally got too much for poor Hebby and he collapsed.
Jimmy and I managed to lift our pal onto the cart as his legs had gone. Because it was full up with other fellows we had to lay him on top of them. It was his only chance; we hoped help wasn’t too far away. I believe they were dropped off at the next stalag which may have been on the way to Stendal, our next big stop. Heb did make it home but sadly he had a heart attack and died a few months later. When the four of us met up again after the war we always remembered our friend and how he helped to keep us going.
14
Black Biscuits
When I woke each morning I was glad to be alive, to have survived another night and to still have Jimmy, Laurie and Sid by my side. I can’t stress enough how important it was to have people who cared about you and looked out for you during those dreadful months on the road. My pals saved my life. We didn’t eat the black biscuits, you see.
As the weather got warmer and the countryside and roads dried out, I found walking easier although finding food and a decent place to sleep was still as bad. It was difficult keeping up morale. I felt completely abandoned yet again. I would have felt better if I had known when it would all be over. I suffered a lot from all the uncertainty. The guards were getting worse, losing their tempers and hitting people. As described earlier, my friend Sgt Sargent got his nose broken by one of them who hit him across the face for no apparent reason.
