hold Lily in my arms again? I thought I would probably die out there and not be buried, even in a shallow grave. Perhaps somebody would read my note if they found my body.
It was like putting a message in a bottle and throwing it out to sea. You hope somebody will find it, read it and understand what happened. It was a cry for help but I didn’t expect anybody to answer. So I wrote down my thoughts, things that had happened up till then; it wasn’t meant to be an accurate record of everything. It’s hard to make sense of it all. You’re so helpless. You do anything to ease to the pain. If people knew what it was like maybe it would never happen again. No sons, brothers or fathers should have to go through this misery and suffering.
I have quoted parts of this letter before but it ends:
Easter Sunday [1 April 1]
Much worse now. 3 have died. Sid collapsed. Taken to stalag. Rations very poor. We are working. Very, very little chance of Red Cross.
War. News is good. We are all hoping it will finish.
God help us.
I folded it up, placed it inside my testament, the gift from the padre, and put it back in my coat pocket.
Just as we had seen planes overhead dropping leaflets, we saw different ones that night; they were reconnaissance planes going overhead. The sky was lit up and we watched them pass overhead, white clouds descending from them, turning into a silver glittering cascade. Wonderful! They were dropping tin foil strips which blocked radar devices and put off the Germans who were firing at them. Clever and rather beautiful among all that noise and ugliness.
We continued on The March with no end in sight. We didn’t know where we were exactly. Everywhere looked the same. Dust, debris and broken people. Places, dates and times of the next events are difficult to remember. There were no signposts to our liberation. It just happened one day, without warning, probably towards the end of April, early May.
We were walking as usual along another endless road to nowhere. I was at the back of the column with Jimmy and Laurie when everybody suddenly stopped walking. It took a few seconds to realise we had come to a standstill. Word came down the line that we were going off the road down into a sand pit.
I was scared. ‘God, in heaven!’ I said to Jimmy, ‘You know what that means,’ thinking they were driving us all down there to shoot us.
‘Only thing to do is to bury yourself in the sand,’ he said.
There was nothing else to do but move slowly on ahead; nobody wanted to go fast. We edged off the road down a sandy bank until the road was higher than us. Everybody was spread out and I couldn’t see what was going on. The men near us were panicking and some of the fellows had already started burying themselves in the sand. It was all a confusion. And then it went quiet.
I lay there with my face almost in the sand. The only sound I heard was my own breathing rasping in and out, in and out. Nothing else. Suddenly somebody was shouting. I looked up. Some of our fellows appeared above us on the road, waving and shouting, ‘It’s all right, they’ve all gone.’ They shouted again, ‘It’s OK. It’s OK.’ Laurie, Jimmy and I got to our feet and looked at each other in disbelief.
‘What’s going on?’ I said.
‘Only way to find out,’ and Jimmy started scrambling back onto the road and Laurie and I followed.
‘Hey, look at that.’ There were abandoned rifles on the ground and two machine guns lying in the middle of the road. Not a single German guard to be seen. They had vanished. I stood looking around me, confused rather than elated at this sudden turn of events. I heard the sound of an engine and turned to see what was coming down the road. God, what now? Should I grab a machine gun and get ready to defend myself rather than just stand there like a sitting duck? I didn’t have the energy to do anything but wait and see what it was.
An American jeep drew up with a squeal of tyres beside the men up ahead. Three officers in a four-seater started talking to our chaps and gesturing down the road. Word came back down to us, ‘Keep on up the road and you’ll meet their company.’
So that was it. The end had finally come. Just like that. The Germans ran off and left us behind. The Americans arrived and took charge.
I remember some things so clearly and odd details are fixed in my mind for ever but the rest – well, it was all a long time ago. I didn’t feel any great sense of relief; I was too stunned to say anything. I had kept going for so long and now all I wanted to do was lie down in the middle of the road and never get up. Jimmy put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me gently forward. ‘Come on, Charlie. We’re nearly there.’ I forced myself to go on even though my legs were about to give way. Laurie was in a bad way, too, so we held on to each other and limped along behind the others. ‘Nearly there. Nearly there.’
As we made our way that last mile I could see we were heading for some sort of military base. There was a sea of men in fields either side behind the perimeter fence. German prisoners were one side and the British, and everybody else, on the other. I think we had arrived at a German Air Force base, now under the authority of the United States Army Air Force. I looked up and saw planes circling overhead waiting to land. As we entered the gates there were lots of American service men rushing about directing people as they were brought in on foot and by truck. There were able-bodied, walking wounded and sick men on make-shift stretchers everywhere.
People came out to help us and we moved towards the entrance to a large three-storey building. I remember there was a wide staircase inside and some of our group were being led to the upper floors. There were rows of men everywhere lying on the bare floor, on blankets and overcoats. Pale faced boys with dead eyes looked up at me. Laurie and I couldn’t walk any further and we stayed at the bottom of the stairs. We saw a space and helped each other towards it, stepping over and around other men. Once I stopped walking, I collapsed in a heap. That was it. My legs had finally given up.
I felt myself sinking like a deep-sea diver underwater. Waves of pain swept over me in every bone and every muscle in my body. I just sank down and down into a sort of semi-conscious state. I was asleep, aware of every sound and movement, but unable to move. I was physically and mentally exhausted and I knew I was safe. Somebody else was responsible for me now. I didn’t have to worry about anything ever again.
We stayed there a week or so, I think, maybe longer. I wasn’t in any fit state to count the days. People were coming and going around me all the time. I heard voices, felt hands, tasted food. To be honest, there were so many of us there in need of help all they could do was keep us dry and fed and then move us out as quickly as possible. I remember an American woman feeding me bits of white bread, so soft in my mouth, like eating cake and there were tiny biscuits which just dissolved on my tongue. Like baby food; and that’s what I was – a baby being fed by its mother.
When I was stronger I was able to get up and have a wash, which was pretty basic but better than nothing. I think I must have borrowed a razor because I had my first shave for four months, I looked in the mirror over the basin and saw this tired old man looking back at me. I was glad my mother couldn’t see me now. A stinking, flea- bitten, lice-ridden bundle of skin and bones. A walking skeleton. I was ashamed of myself and what I had become. What would people think? I dreaded being seen like this by anybody who knew me.
As for Lily, I thought it would be better if she married one of her dancing partners. I knew she had men friends and been out with some of them; she had told me so in her letters. I wouldn’t hold her to any promises we made before the war. What had I done during five years of war? I wasn’t returning a hero. I didn’t have any medals to show or tales of bravery to tell. I had nothing to offer. I was a rag and bone man fit only for the rubbish heap.
But I wanted to go home more than anything. Men were on the move all around. There was noise and activity day and night, lights flashing, planes landing and taking off and vehicles coming and going. It would be my turn soon. It must have been a nightmare for the Americans to sort it all out. French and Dutch companies were being dispatched home and I remember a fellow Brit next to me complaining, ‘We should be going home before them Frogs.’
It was 8 May, 1945, my 26th birthday, and how did I celebrate? I climbed half way up an American tank so I could hear Churchill’s Victory in Europe speech on the tank radio. VE Day. I will never forget it. What a wonderful birthday present!
I was still very weak and somebody gave me a lift up so I could get closer to the set to listen. How
