A Glider Pilot's Story - continued (22)

CHAPTER 22

The rest of that day continued without incident as far as we were concerned. We were given food and left undisturbed. It began to look as though what I had been told about the Germans being satisfied with the information they had, might turn out to be genuine. Nevertheless nagging doubts continued in the background. Were they

finished with us or was it only for the time being while they thought out more questions? What was happening now on Schouwen? Had we given anything away that could jeopardise the safety of those with whom we had been in contact? As things were at that moment, there was little we could do to control the situation apart from caution and vigilance.

We were aroused early by the guards and taken outside while it was still dark. There we were put on to a lorry, about the size of a three tonner. They had also a couple of horses with which they towed it up and down the street in order to start it. It ran on gas that was produced by a stove that burned logs. The stove was situated just behind the driver's cab and the spare logs were stored in sacks at the back occupying quite a lot of space. Eventually when the engine seemed to be running to the satisfaction of the driver, the horses were dismissed and the lorry proceeded on its way. It did not have far to go. Only as far as the harbour which lay a couple of streets away. We went on board what was more or less a standard type ferry such as might ply between Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight. Our escort took us into the saloon and we sat around a table to await the departure. Just before it left the harbour, the Afrika-Korps Oberleutnant came on the scene. He came over and exchanged a few words with the guards and then he invited me to cross the saloon with him and to sit at the table where he was the sole occupant. I thought at first that he was just being sociable in order to lull me into disclosing some snippets of intelligence and I was naturally guarded throughout our conversation.

He started by offering me a cigarette as I sat down. I accepted this only with the proviso that I could have two more for my comrades. He agreed to this and no sooner had I sat down than I was up again and walking across the saloon to the surprise of the guards and the pleasure of Phil and Herman, the unexpected recipients. I then returned to the Oberleutnant, thanked him once again for the cigarettes and sat down again.

He spoke at some length of the battles in the western desert at times waxing lyrical. It was his opinion that modern wars should always be fought in such places since the opposing forces could engage each other and decide the issues honourably without inflicting casualties on innocent victims. He likened the contests between the armies to the meetings of knights of old in tournaments. It was altogether rather idealistic and perhaps he was rather self-indulgent with his reminiscences.

It must be remembered however that he did have a captive audience since at this stage I did little except listen. When the opportunity presented itself, I asked him if he had learned his English in the U.S.A. since he spoke with an American accent. He told me that he had learned his English in Germany but that he had spent a couple of years in the states. During this time he had spent several months "hoboing" around. He described this as the only way to get to know the country.

I remember also that he expressed surprise that "you British are the allies of the Russians." Not to be outdone, I expressed the surprise of the British that "you Germans are the allies of the Japanese." He took this debating point in good part. By this time it seemed as if the voyage was nearly over. He gave me three more cigarettes. I thanked him again and returned once again to the others.

Before long we had arrived at what I think was Helvoetsluis. There appeared to be several small ships of the German Navy and as we left the harbour area we saw many sailors. From here we went to Briel where we were taken to an army headquarters and after some delay we were brought in front of a German Wehrmacht Colonel. In turn we were questioned by the Colonel who was advised by one who appeared to be a Hauptman in the Luftwaffe. Neither of these spoke English and so every question was delivered by a private soldier who spoke with an impeccable Oxford accent.

I was the last to be taken in and questioned. It was pure farce. The Herr Oberst was a dead ringer for Eric van Stroheim. Had it really been him, the Hollywood director would have given him a short scene in which he had studied the report of the Afrika-Korps officer. He would then have proclaimed "Ach! If there is anything more to find out about these terrorists, I am the man to do it."

In reality there was need to take care and go through the formalities. He delivered each question with considerable force and accompanied by banging on the table in front of him. By the time it had been translated and expressed in more gentle than bullying tones, something had been lost. "Unless you tell us all you know about these terrorists, we'll have to hang you!" .... "What have you done with the secret radio?" .... "We know you were splashing in the sea to signal to the boat!"

Really it was quite laughable but of course I daren't show it. Instead, I replied politely that I didn't know what he was talking about. The Hauptman leaned over and whispered in the Colonel's ear. Then I was questioned about Vl's and V2's. They wanted to know how much damage was being done to London. I again expressed my ignorance of what they spoke about. The interview did not last long. We were removed and continued on our way.

Later that day in the early evening the lorry noisily made its way through the Maas tunnel and into Rotterdam and thence to Schiedam. Here we were billeted for the night in a school.

One of the prominent administrators here was a bearded Unter-Officier who had been stationed in Paris and took great pains to show us how well he could speak French. Phil and I turned this to great advantage by talking him into giving us back our watches which had been handed in to his office for safe keeping with whatever documents were accompanying us. He went into the office and returned with the two wrist watches.

I believe our stay in Schiedam was limited to one night and the following morning found us seated with our captors outside a Wehrmacht canteen which overlooked the river Maas. Some distance along the road, the driver was trying to start the lorry which had brought us from Middelharnis. Clouds of smoke poured from the stove behind his cab and it needed several runs on tow, up and down the road, before the engine was working satisfactorily.

Meanwhile as we sat there a German woman came to clear the table. She spoke to the guards about us. Then addressing us she asked, "You are English ?" When Phil and I nodded she went on, "They should shoot you - you make my sister's house break!" Seeing Herman shake his head and hearing him say that he was Dutch, her verdict on him was that he deserved to be hanged, though she gave no reason for this.

Before long we were on our way again on a journey that brought us to a small transit camp consisting of perhaps half a dozen connected wooden huts just outside the town of Woerden. Here we were locked in a barrack room which had tiered wooden bunks on both sides of the room; in the middle stood a table and benches. At one end there was a barred window which looked out on an outside world whose nearest representative was a guard permanently on duty. The other end of the room contained the door to the corridor. At the side of the door at head height was an observation window about a foot square. Also at this end of the room was a combustion stove.

Some seven or eight prisoners were already in residence, British Army from various units. Only one of these remains as a clear memory; he was one of the Arnhem survivors who was nursing a badly wounded elbow. He had had some medical attention but in the main he appeared to be responsible for attending to his needs with whatever assistance he could obtain. He told me the Germans were short of medical supplies and that their own troops were given priority. The crepe paper bandages which covered his wound seemed to support this statement.

It did not take Herman long to discover that the next room held some Dutch prisoners. It was possible to talk to them through a small hole in the wall. We were to see them each day as we were taken outside the huts for exercise although on these occasions there was little opportunity for conversation. This was because the two groups had to walk on opposite sides and in opposite directions along the roadway that ran along the outside of the huts. I think two of these were wearing their 1940 uniforms but the rest were in civilian clothes.

On some days the two groups were taken out for exercise separately and on other days there was no exercise at all. Sometimes the exercise period was interrupted by the appearance of a couple of Typhoons or Tempests in the sky not very far away. Whenever they arrived on the scene our exercise was either curtailed or cancelled. There was never any air raid warning and the Typhoons never did anything more than weave lazy patterns in the sky above only to be replaced later by two more. We deduced that they were on the lookout for launching sites for the V2 rockets. Certainly no rockets were ever launched while they were overhead. Our deductions seemed to be confirmed on the day that we left the camp when a couple of miles along the road, the early morning mist was disturbed by the launching of a rocket just a couple of miles away.

In the main we were treated quite well at Woerden. The guards were mostly middle aged and in a couple of cases behaved quite generously towards their prisoners. One, an Austrian, appeared regularly every morning and brought in some tobacco and cigarette papers which we shared. Another surprised me on one occasion by giving me the eye through the observation window as he walked up and down the corridor. After he had done this two or three times I decided to find out what he had in mind.

It was Christmas day and I was fairly certain that his only motive was one of goodwill. I banged on the door shouting out that I needed to go to the toilet. He let me out and escorted me to the ablution room along the corridor. There he gave me a packet with four or five cigarettes in it which I gratefully accepted. He also told me that he had a loaf for me but that I would have to wait until the next time he came on duty in four hours time. After being returned to the barrack room we shared the cigarettes and later in the day I went to the toilet when he came on duty and he came across with the extra bread.

We spent about a week at Woerden from about the 20th to 27th December. I have two other pleasant recollections of our stay there, both concerned with food - in my opinion the primary preoccupation of most prisoners of war. The other main preoccupation was not as many people may suppose, but was in fact news. The first of these pleasant memories concerned Christmas Day itself. The Germans allowed a couple of Dutch Red Cross members to come into the camp and give us a Christmas dinner of turkey and hot vegetables. It was a memorable occasion probably because it was unexpected. The other occasion preceded this by a couple of days. It was the custom for one of the prisoners to go to the kitchen at mealtimes to bring back whatever ration of bread was available and also some tea (usually made from sea weed) or black coffee (also ersatz made from acorns). On this evening as I went to the kitchen, the cook was very angry since he was being reviled by his comrades for burning the porridge. Apparently none of them were going to eat it and it was to be thrown away. With my limited German vocabulary I insisted that the food must not be thrown away; that the prisoners were not having enough food to eat and that we would eat the porridge, burnt or not. The cook himself was in no mood to listen to what I had to say but eventually my persuasion prevailed and I returned to the others in triumph carrying a large urn full of burnt porridge. We not only devoured it but we even scraped and ate the bottom half inch which was really burnt.

Two other memories remain of this short period at Woerden. They were not unconnected by the weather which was very cold. My guard of the extra bread showed me a newspaper which was full of German success in the Battle of the Bulge and the map printed on the front page looked quite ominous. It gave him little pleasure as I think he was looking forward to the end of the war, in our favour rather than his. The other incident was to look out of the window and watch the locals trying to celebrate their holiday period, skating along the canal which was not very far away. It was in marked contrast to the view as we travelled through the devastated areas of Rotterdam a few days before. The main impression had been one of misery. There had been many people searching in the ruins for anything that could be used as fuel. Others who were either on their way to work or home rode bicycles which had no tyres. In place of these they used a number of pieces of wood strung together in the manner of a necklace around the rim. As they rode along they were accompanied by a noisy clatter. All looked cold and underfed. Here not many miles away, those we saw had brought out their skates and since they were not at such close quarters gave an impression of invigorating pleasure. Had they been clad differently, the scene they presented might have come from a seventeenth century winter landscape by Avercamp.

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