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

While we were at this camp (Campo 115) the Red Cross parcels came more frequently. They actually got to one parcel between two people and as a working party, we had a peach each, two weeks running. On one occasion the Italian Officer called us all out and told us that Italian P.O.W.s in Canada were being ill treated. So when we got our next Red Cross parcel and opened and emptied the box, the creamed rice, jam, tea, sugar and butter were all mixed up. Fortunately it only happened once. During August the guards were getting very depressed.

Our troops had captured Pantelleria, then Sicily, and they were now making a landing at Salerno on the mainland of Italy. Things looked very black for the guards, especially as their homes were in the south. Naturally the lads were really chuffed; unfortunately news was so scarce, and our only source was what the guards told us. So when the Italian officer said that the BBC would be speaking to us through the camp speakers that evening we were over the top.

There we were all lined up listening to the grotty radio tuning in, on and off. Eventually the radio behaved and we heard Big Ben chime, then the announcement ‘Pietro Badoglio had signed an armistice with the allies unbeknown to the Germans’ and now the Italians (what was left of them) were no longer our enemies.

The Italian Fascists still stayed with the Germans but the Italian army had capitulated. When we heard of this there was a real party spirit. The Italian officer gave us all the remaining Red Cross parcels (two each). At two o’clock in the morning he had us all up and explained that he had ordered his guards to fire in the air, and told us to break camp and make for the mountains, and get away from the Germans. The poor old guards did not know where to go, their homes were in Sicily.

We were released!

Looking back, what a sight it was that morning. The mountainside looked as if it was covered with ants, the direction did not matter, as long as we hit for high hills or the mountain passes. To go into ditches and gather wild tomatoes and melons, to cut across a vineyard and gorge on grapes (the sweet taste was like a drug) was heaven to us.

Credit must go to the Camp Commandant for releasing us, as the Germans were due any hour and the Fascists were still loyal to Mussolini and the Germans. Unfortunately for the Fascists the Germans used them relentlessly and when their usefulness was finished they became P.O.Ws. The Germans issued an ultimatum that any Italians harbouring a P.O.W would have their homes burnt down and the menfolk would be taken away for labour.

Despite this, we always found the villagers very kind, although very apprehensive about our presence. Their fear came from the odd Fascist in the villages who would report anything suspicious. The Germans gave 1,800 lire (£25) for any P.O.W they captured. That is the only time I was worth something!

So the first few days were ‘magic’, we waded through our Red Cross parcels, made tea in the forest, the Italians would meet us and give us bread and wine. There were five of us in our little band and unfortunately we became a little careless. It happened when one old lady who used to bring us fruit and bread — she was very caring, but her husband was just the opposite.

On one occasion we asked her to make a pot of tea, she only had saucepans but that was better than the ‘smoky jobs’ we were making. We went into her ‘hovel’ (that is about all you could call it), these people were the original peasants, and she got the sticks together, lit the fire and had boiling water in a few minutes. We had impressed on her the necessity of having boiling water; we gave her the 2oz Brooke Bond tea, our last, and she emptied the packet in.
We were not quick enough before she had strained the water off and gave us the tea leaves; she had never made tea in her life before.

Her husband did very well with the odd cigarettes we gave him, but when they ran out he became very morose. We had nothing for him and never saw much of him. Then, after our fourth day of near liberty, he came down to us and invited us to his home for a hot meal, as he called it. It transpired that the hot meal was a bowl of soup with bread - that went down very well! Then came the vino, we acquired a liking for vino, so about eleven o’ clock, he suggested that we need not go into the forest to sleep but that we could use an old barn. This we did. At two a.m. shots were being fired through the roof (to wake us up) and the barn was surrounded by a dozen Fascist soldiers. We were marched to a lorry where there were three more ex-P.O.W.s and taken away. No doubt, the Italian collected some of that ‘reward.’

The next shock came after travelling about twenty miles. We arrived at a town, which turned out to be Spoleto. The Fascist guards were ‘cock-a-hoop’ about our capture, but it did appear that they were not sure where to take us. Eventually it was to be Spoleto prison at the top of a hill by a viaduct (it is still a prison to this day). We eight were installed in a cell eight yards by six yards and left there a whole day without any communication. This cell had no toilets, and for eight men with hardly any room to sit down, the situation was horrible.

The food, which was basic bread and soup, was passed through a cavity in the door. We suffered this for about three days, when, as the senior man there, I tried to get the chap who bought the food to organise an interview with the governor, on the fourth day it was arranged.

Before I get to the interview there is one thing I must point out. Spoleto prison held a lot of political prisoners serving life sentences because they did not agree with Mussolini’s politics, also resident were military Yugoslavians. Being unable to speak Italian fluently it was arranged that I would have the services of a political prisoner who was blind, having been shot in Rome at a demonstration, to interpret for me. It transpired that he had lived in America for a while and his English was as good as my Italian. Anyway, we went down to see the Commandant (he looked like a Keystone Cop) who gave the impression he was fed up with his job.

He asked me what I wanted, so I said to the interpreter “Tell him we are not convicts”, (which was rather embarrassing) “that we are honourable P.O.W.s and that he should observe the rules of the Geneva Convention and improve general conditions”. We had no exercise, no fruit, and no family or friends to bring food to the prisoners, as was the system for the other ‘in-mates’. This interpreter really ‘went to town’ on the Commandant. He certainly added his comments to mine and the Commandant was glaring at me. He stood up (I didn’t need the interpreter to tell me) and showed me arm and leg exercises to do in the cell, and told me to clear off.

Strangely enough this interview did have some effect, because later we were called out to a quadrangle where we walked around in a circle for half an hour. For the first time we were able to see other prisoners, the Yugoslavs especially seemed very friendly towards us, although there was no chance to chat with them. Word must have got around that we had no fruit because later that day big baskets of peaches and pears arrived with good wishes from the other prisoners.

On the fifth day a German lorry pulled into the prison and a German officer had us taken away, with some sharp words to the governor, as if it was his fault that we were put there. We piled into the lorry which stopped at Spoleto, there was a long queue at the bakers shop, ignoring this, a German soldier who was escorting us went straight in and came out with large hot loaves, giving us one each, much to the dismay of the civilians. We then continued on our journey.

We had only a few miles to go when we arrived at a German camp that looked like a ‘building site’. We discovered that the Germans intended building another P.O.W camp using P.O.W.s and guards. They treated us really well, gave us two Red Cross parcels each (to keep us happy) and got us working. This situation lasted for the next few days. In the meantime new prisoners were coming in. By the third day there must have been a hundred captured P.O.W.s. We, the original occupants were still the workforce. The guards were quite chatty, although they were very annoyed when we told them that Charlie Chaplin had ‘taken off’ Hitler in the film ‘The Great Dictator’.

We were issued with pliers for the wirework needed to extend the P.O.W. camp and I had managed to hold onto my pair mainly because of the carelessness of the Germans and that they thought that we were very contented, due to being well fed. During this spell three British officers had been brought in and were told that they would be flown to Germany the next day. I told them that I intended to make a break that night, so, following army procedure, I informed them about when and how.

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