Bill Clark's War, 5 of 8 Chapters, He was Captured 4, Released 1, Escaped 3

A few days later, whilst walking along the mountain muleteer, we were elated to see about a dozen American bombers approaching the valley where there was a railway junction. We had a first class view of the whole operation. First of all the bombers encircled the small town three times, there were no German fighters or Ack Ack to bother them and the object of the encirclement was to give the inhabitants the opportunity to get out, and we could see people running from the fields. Then the bombers dropped their load, there was an almighty crunch and the bombers flew off. Later that afternoon we walked through that part of the area but to our disgust there were huge craters both sides of the railway but not one bomb had hit the railway lines.

The weather was getting cooler now. The Italians use ‘Vino’ for all ailments and we began to appreciate it too.

During my travels my companions varied from time to time. Usually when there was a scuffle with Germans or the Fascists we might be forced to scatter, then I would find a new companion. I stayed with John and we met up with another couple — that was fatal. Not that a change of conversation wasn’t appreciated, but four of us in a party was too many, especially when it came to scrounging food. Anyway, it proved to be a mistake for we were seen by Germans at a camp in the valley and they were waiting for us as we came round a bend.

The ‘Germans’ turned out to be Poles who had joined the German army under pressure. We explained to them that their countrymen were fighting for us and their Pilots were flying our planes, but we could not get them to let us go. I became a Prisoner of War again!

We stayed the night at a camp before being taken to a bigger camp behind the lines. It was only after we were captured that we found out the British Army was 10 miles away. However, we were well treated and fed well. It is only when you are handed over to the base camps that the pushing and kicking starts. There were 12 ex P.O.W.s being marched back and one of them was determined to make a break in broad daylight. He told us where, and for us to close up the formation, to delay the Germans noticing that one was missing. It worked like a charm. The guards went berserk.

He made his break down a corridor of grape vines, dodging through them so that the guards could not get a sight on him. They gave up after a quarter of an hour and carried on with the march. They fired off their rifles so they could report that they had made some effort. Anyway it was to no avail because when we arrived at the base camp they got a right old rollicking from the C.O. which didn’t go down well.

While we were there more prisoners of war arrived. Some had had an English breakfast meal that morning and now were enjoying the hospitality of the German army in the afternoon. They took a long time to realise what had happened and were surprised at us scruffy ‘civvies’ as if we were a disgrace to the British Army, (they were the Scots Guards by the way.)

When the Germans had sufficient prisoners the object was to put us on a train to Germany. Our time arrived and we were put in trucks (60 in each) with one in three trucks with German guards ready to surround the train when it stopped.

Now, in our truck were some ‘Farmers’, Scots Guards and a couple of Commandos who carried a file in their boots as part of their equipment. So, after travelling a few miles they got to work on filing the metal bars which were bolted across the roof of the truck. This was slow work although the files were very sharp. The work went on for about an hour when we stopped. The station only happened to be the main station in Rome with several platforms.

Unfortunately the two who were filing at the time were too keen and didn’t stop and were heard by the guards outside. Right away the doors were thrown open and we were all turned out. We had earlier agreed that, if discovered, we would let them find one of the files. We were marched on the platform, told to undress totally and then marched 50 yards along the platform in our Birthday suits, while the guards searched our clothes. They felt great when they found the file but we were embarrassed at standing on Rome station naked. All the other platforms were crowded and we were the object of their curiosity. Surprisingly, no audible notice was taken of us.

After a lot of threats we were allowed to dress and get back into the van. The guards became very vigilant and the stops were frequent. Since the filing of the overhead bars seemed too difficult, we next worked on the small flap that had been nailed up, which was originally a ventilator. This was a lot easier and we had it open very quickly, but we were dubious as to whether it was wide enough to get through.

Anyhow, when it came to who was going to have a go, the only ones were the “Farmers”. The Scots Guards didn’t want to know; I thought then, what a disgrace — “The cream of the British Army” and not one of them was to make an attempt. I realise now that they still didn’t understand their position and what was to come.

The train had been running quite a long time so we thought that at any time it might slow up. The idea was for four men to pick one man up (face down) and pass him through the ventilator so that he found a ledge outside the truck. He could then work his way round to the buffers so that when the train slowed up he would be able to jump to the embankment.

I happened to be the third man out, the four men picked me up (face upwards), and when they passed me out I was unable to bend to the side of the truck. It was a bit of a nightmare. I shouted to the four men to pull me in, then turn me over and pass me out again. Fortunately during that time my legs did not hit any telegraph poles or a bridge. When I had passed round to the buffers the fourth man joined us. The train kept going at speed for another hour. This had mixed blessings, holding on to the train we got cold and numb but now it was completely dark and a heavy mist was forming.

The train began to slow up; jumping was hazardous as there were rails between us and the bank side. Anyway, by the time the train slowed sufficiently we rounded a bend and a station appeared. Being the third to jump I landed on the platform. I ran across to a fence and dived under into a ditch on the other side. No sooner had I landed than the fourth chap landed on top of me.

The Germans had by now opened the doors and were firing their rifles. All hell let loose and we were like rabbits. We got up and crept out of the ditch and found ourselves walking amongst the Germans. But for the mist they would have realised that we were P.O.W.s.

As we edged away in the mist we started to run.

What happened next may appear comic, but at the time was a nightmare. The land we were running across was a typical Italian field. It was cultivated for barley or oats and was ploughed so that the fourth furrow was extra deep for irrigation. Also in this field was an orchard, from the trees lines of wire were drawn to support grape vines. So there we were, running like mad only to fall in deep water (fourth furrow,) get up and nearly cut our throats on the wire. It was a desperate run because it involved crossing roads and paths until we could get into the foothills.

When the four of us jumped the train we had scattered. The chap who had followed me out paired up with me and we never saw the other two again. We estimated that we had jumped the train about 10 p.m. that night and it was two hours later when we were in the foothills that we heard the train start off again.

We kept walking until we reached a village. Everything was still and we decided that we would not disturb anyone so we looked for a stable to sleep in. One of the barns had a small light and we made for it. It was a sight I shall always remember, for inside were 40 babies, lying on a straw floor, all asleep. It was a wonderful sight, not a sound except for their breathing. We hadn’t the heart to lie down and sleep with them. So instead, found a stable and slept with cattle.

In the morning we were disturbed by a lad mucking out a cattle shed. We asked him if any “Tedesci” were about. He said they only pass through occasionally; he would tell his mum we were there and get us some food which he did. Surprisingly enough, the village had heard about the escape and had mixed feelings about us. We got our bread and some roasted chestnuts, and went on our way. It was now 18 November 1943.

My partner was a South African white and although he was of Boer origin he turned out to be O.K. and we shared a lot of experiences. This time we decided not to waste any more time as winter was fast approaching and it looked as if our troops would go into winter near the River Sancro, so we put in a lot of miles each day.

As we originally travelled from Spoleto, we had got off some twenty miles away, we were able to travel over familiar ground, except that for the villagers the novelty had worn a bit thin and food was harder to come by. Nevertheless, we made good time through places like Avesana, Bari, etc. Some of the views were breathtaking but as we were obliged to travel over smaller mountains, passing through the villages we met with many sad events.

On one occasion we came across an old gentleman who was evidently upper class, when he saw us he made signs to meet him at the other end of the village. There he met us and gave us a lot of Lire and told us not to stay around as Germans frequently came there. Now this was the first time that we had handled money and when we got back to the mountainside we saw a shepherd, (they stay the winter up there and live in a shack). He was delighted to sell us a couple of lambs, which he gave us, - live! We hadn’t the heart to kill them, and had to plead with him to kill and skin them. We hadn’t eaten meat for three months or more and it was delicious. We then made a point of keeping to the mountainside and only coming down to the villages for bread. Some villages had been ransacked and the people had moved out and were forced to move to other villages further back behind the lines. Others only had old people in them and as we got nearer to the river Sangro so the situation got desperate.

By now our footwear was non existent but we needed to get some bread to tide us over. On the last attempt we got to a ski hut high up and we were lucky enough to see a couple of Germans leaving as we approached, so we felt secure for a few hours. Inside we found a sack full of beans; I don’t know to this day what sort of beans they were, but we lived on them for three days.

We decided to make our move and that night we really stepped it out. We passed a German patrol without being seen, which was easy as they make a lot of noise talking to each other. We got down to the waters edge of the Sangro and there in the summer it is practically dry. It was now waist deep and very cold. We thought that that was it when we got across and had dreams of smoking John Players and eating lots of food as we made our way up the bank on the other side. Dawn was breaking when in the distance we could hear voices; once again the Germans had given themselves away. Our problem was that we had no cover, in front of us were two muleteers, (pathways) one old and one new. We decided to take the old path and lie face downwards in the hope that the Germans would pass us, but they took the old muleteer and practically trod on us. I became a Prisoner of War again!

The Germans treated us very well and the officer who spoke English very well told us not to be too disappointed, as, had we gone on we would have walked into a mine field and most probably would have been killed.

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