Red Cross Parcels

My father was captured on Crete in June 1941 and from there was taken by cattle truck to Stalag IIID, a Prisoner of War camp on the outskirts of Berlin. It took some months before Red Cross parcels started to arrive and it was these which helped him to survive the pitiful diet of potato soup, hard brown bread and ersatz (acorn) coffee. It was whilst at this camp that he got to know one of the guards who let it slip that his daughter was having a birthday and that she had never tasted chocolate. My father, who until his dying day could eek out food, sweets and cigarettes so that he always had something left for another day, gave the guard a small bar of Cadbury’s chocolate from his Red Cross parcel. The German guard cried. Even in conflict there could be traces of compassion. My father was a firm believer in the fact that it was wrong to blame a nation for the wrong doings of a minority who were able to sweep masses with them on a disastrous road.

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