A Glider Pilot's Story - continued (18-19)

CHAPTER 18

We remained in the custody of those guards during the next two days. We were fed in much the same way as our custodians were. It seemed to be the custom for one of the guards to bring some hot food each evening, stew or broth, and with it he brought a ration of bread and wurst for the following day. The facilities were rather primitive consisting of a newly dug trench in the back garden.

On the midday after our capture there arrived suddenly in the house a Wehrmacht Veldwebel who questioned the corporal in charge about us. It was another demonstration of German rank - it was made obvious that a German sergeant was a fairly big wheel. The corporal (unter-officier) although by Hitler's orders to be saluted by private soldiers, was yammering and standing to attention for this pure-blooded Aryan, for so he appeared. It seemed as though he had some reservations about whatever it was he was being told about but uncertain as to his position and lacking in clout he could do no other than comply with the newcomer's wishes.

Apparently having heard that there were 'gevangenen' along the street he decided that they were to be placed at his disposal. He had just returned from some sort of patrol duties with his section and was about to take up residence in another house just along the street. Saying to us something about 'Arbeit' he then ordered us to 'Komen sie mit' and strode away. Our guards indicated to us that we should follow and he led us out to the street.

There stood a trek-cart stacked with gear and equipment and behind it was a tethered cow which was being milked by one of his men. Two or three others were unloading the baggage from the trek-cart and dumping it on the pavement. It was made clear to us that we were expected to act as porters and remove it into the house. This was not a course of action of which I was in favour. I had no reservations about the performance of menial tasks when necessary but to become a personal servant of this arrogant superman went against the grain.

The difficulty was that I was unsure of the outcome of open rebellion. I carried the first items of baggage up the stairs and dumped them on the floor in the room he indicated. He asked if I spoke German to which I replied "Nein!" He then asked, "Parlez-vous Francais?" to which I answered "Oui!". He then told me to go below for some more baggage. When this was done I was to "Machen le lit". I went below muttering as I went. Passing Phil on the stairs we exchanged comments which reflected on the parentage or lack of in Veldwebels.

Arriving at the bottom of the stairs I turned the wrong way to the back of the house still muttering. There in the kitchen was his personal milkmaid was scalding a large pan of milk on the gas stove. As I walked by I continued muttering to the effect that if he was a Veldwebel then I was a Stapsveldwebel.

A few moments later his lordship came after me so that I could take some more of his luggage and "machen le lit". Continuing my muttering I went through the house, I indicated that I regularly passed Veldwebels through my fundamental orifice each morning. I did however take another piece of baggage up the stairs.

In my absence he had now put up a clothes line in his room and hanging from it were some freshly shot wild duck. This endeared me to him even less and I made it my business to distance myself from this bed he seemed keen on me making. Going down one flight of stairs I went in one of the rooms on the landing. A few moments later he came in pursuit. He had apparently received the message. "Je suis Veldwebel" he said, "et vous?"

"Je suis Stapsveldwebel" I answered calmly. He then demanded to know where my badges of rank were. With some difficulty I explained that they had been cut off with a razor blade in the Kommandantur. "Et votre kamerad ?" he went on. "Aussi Veldwebel," said I. "Et votre andere kamerad ?"

"Gefreiter," I replied.

It was a pity but I couldn't hope to win them all. Phil and I were then excused fatigues as senior N.C.O.'s but Herman as a Gefreiter had to continue.

Later that day just after dark, we were taken out in the street again. Standing there was an open farm cart drawn by a horse. We climbed aboard accompanied by our guards. The corporal sat at the front next to the driver, also a German soldier.

My recollections of the first part of the journey that followed are rather hazy and almost dreamlike. After reaching the end of the street and making a couple of turns we entered the town through an archway and turned again into the square. I have a vague recollection that I recognised some of this from my view out of the window on the 6th but I also had a very strong feeling that I must put this from my mind and not recognise anything about the middle of Zierikzee.

I was not so naive as to imagine that the cursory questioning in the Kommandantur would suffice. There was more to come for us. The Germans had caught us and hanged ten of our companions from the nights of the 6th and 7th. They now had us and though we did not yet know where we were going, we knew that between us we had information that they would want. Whatever happened we must take care not to betray anyone. No doubt it was such thoughts as these that make my memories of the departure from Zierikzee so dreamlike.

My reverie was disturbed by a change of sound. The clatter of horses hooves and the rattle of wheels on the cobbles were diminished and accompanied by the splashing and swishing of our progress along the road through shallow water. I recalled the night in mid-November when Phil and I had mounted the tower in Nieuwerkerk and listened to the sound of horses and carts in the distance. Then, we had thought that they were travelling from Zierikzee in the direction of Brouwershaven. Were we going in the same direction, I wondered. Before very long we would know.

The journey must have lasted about an hour when we entered the town. After twisting its way through some streets the cart came into an open square which led to the harbour. We stopped and got down from the cart. We were glad of the chance to move and stamping our feet helped to relieve some of the stiffness induced by the cold and the discomfort of the cart.

Surrounded by our guards, we were marched along the quay side at which were moored three or four small ships. Alongside one of these we halted while the corporal went into a building just back from the quay side. There seemed to be a fair amount of activity going on with people bustling about going hither and thither. Many of these were German soldiers who were on the deck of one of the ships.

There were also three or four Wehrmacht officers who also went on board and appeared to occupy a small saloon. The corporal returned with a Veldwebel and there was some discussion with a naval officer who was wearing a duffel coat. He also went on board and after a few moments returned with one of the officers from the saloon.

There followed more discussion which deteriorated into a slanging match. As far as I could tell the argument centred around where we were to be accommodated. The officers refused to have us in the saloon with them and those responsible for us refused to have us on the deck. The impasse was finally resolved by the skipper who decided that we should travel below and not on the deck. After sending for one of his sailors he turned to me and said jovially "You are English, eh ? Do you know Harvich ? Before the war I am many times in Harvich!" After this the sailor arrived and we were led on board.

Going below we were taken to an enclosed hold which until then had held only an engine and the engineer. Now there were nine of us. The engine, a diesel, was chomping away steadily with some of its moving parts exposed to the care of the sailor whose tools appeared to be a large oil can and an oily rag. Connected to the engine was a linkage system and a long metal rod which travelled upwards diagonally and disappeared through what from our end was the ceiling and from the other end was probably the deck. The sailor was friendly and asked us in German where our homes were in England. Phil answered London and when I answered Manchester he led me to the other side of his engine to show me the nameplate which proclaimed "Crossley, Manchester."

Some few minutes later the engine burst into a louder and more rapid rhythm as the arm controlling it was operated from above. We were on our way. The voyage lasted for about half an hour. I don't think any of us enjoyed it. After getting under way, the engine steadied down for a while and then sprang into violent life again for about ten or fifteen seconds. This happened some seven or eight times, each time coinciding with the sound of the bottom of the ship scraping on the seabed. As a glider pilot, I had always admired, from afar, submariners without ever once wishing to share their experiences. Cooped up in this steel container with a smelly Crossley Diesel roaring away to maintain our forward progress was nearer (in my imagination) to submarine experience than I had ever wanted to be.

Things quietened down again and after the ship had come to a standstill, we all went above and disembarked. To our surprise we had returned to Brouwershaven - apparently there had been the problem of poor visibility besides the lack of sufficient depth of water.

CHAPTER 19

We disembarked with our escort and after standing around on the quay side while arrangements were made, we were taken along an alleyway to a building which appeared to be a small school. Here we remained overnight and most of the following morning. Then we returned to the quay side and were taken into the building alongside the quay in which there were a couple of Wehrmacht clerks who seemed to be in charge of travel arrangements. We sat around waiting for several hours. At first I wondered if the Germans were reluctant to operate their ships for fear of air attacks but this was not the case. It was largely a matter of tides and visibility - it was very misty.

During this period of waiting we were subjected to frequent doses of "For you the war is over" as various members of the Wehrmacht entered and left. Accompanying this was also the question "Who will win the war?" Whenever we answered this question our answer was usually discounted by the questioner with the remarks "Deutschland der Krieg winnen! Neue waffen! Vouw Eins, Vouw Zweil" On one occasion to support this opinion we were shown a German Army colour magazine with articles and illustrations of how the Vl and V2 were helping Germany to win the war.

One of the transport clerks tried to demoralise us by giving the figures (German) for the Airborne Divisions casualties at Arnhem. His colleague claimed to have seen us in the streets of Nieuwerkerk during September. We didn't place much credence in this though it was possible that the search of Nieuwerkerk could have followed an observation of our activities the previous day.

In the middle of the afternoon we went out once more to the quay side and boarded the small ship once again. This time there was no confrontation or argument about us. We travelled on deck with our guards and perhaps forty or so soldiers who either were going on leave or being posted. There was still some mist about and there seemed to be some repetition of the previous night's problems. Ours was not the only ship in the sea way.

At one stage we hove-to within hailing distance of a small armed vessel - possibly a corvette. There was quite a lot of shouting and it seemed as though they were having difficulty in making their way from one marker buoy to the next. Eventually we arrived in the harbour at Ouddorp on the island Goeree-Overflakkee. From here we walked from the harbour until we reached the tram terminus. Next to this was a cafe and our guards took us in there. Near the counter at one corner there burned a combustion stove.

The better to keep an eye on us we were directed to sit between this and the counter with our guards on the other side of the stove. They decided to have a cup of coffee and though we had no share in this it was quite pleasant to be warm.

Behind the counter was the proprietor and a young woman in her late teens. She appeared to take great interest in us; when she looked in our direction she winked frequently and when she had her back to us she went about her tasks whistling "Roll out the barrel." When she was certain that we were both on the same wavelength she appeared to be waiting for an opportune moment. When this presented itself she passed a small parcel over the counter unnoticed by all except Phil. I slipped it into the top of my smock and acknowledged its receipt with a wink and a smile. "What you got there then Blackie ?" muttered Phil quietly. "No idea," I replied. "We'll see later."

Some little while later we went outside and boarded the tram which was to take us to Middelharnis. By the time we arrived there, it was dark and we stood for some time in the entrance to the tram station. After a while a car pulled up outside from which stepped two soldiers. There was a brief exchange which resulted in Herman being taken to the car with a new escort. It disappeared into the darkness and returned about fifteen minutes later this time to remove Phil.

The guards who had accompanied us from Zierikzee were making preparations to return. One of them went to the ticket office to enquire what time the next tram back to Ouddorp was due. Soon the car returned once again and I too was whisked away sitting on the back seat between two armed guards.

For me this was quite strange, I was not used to travelling on the right hand side of the road, especially at night. Going round corners in the dark on what to me was the wrong side was somewhat unnerving. There was also the effect of not knowing what was to come. Where had Phil and Herman been taken ? Was I soon to be reunited with them ? What was in store for us ? I had the feeling that we would soon know. Just before the journey ended the car followed a street which ran in a circular direction as though along a crescent.

When it stopped it appeared to be under a sort of archway to a building. I was taken up some steps to the entrance and then down some steps along a passage. The passage was shaped like a short L in each arm of which was a cell door. I was in a building which was either a police station or a courthouse. The guards opened the door to one of the cells and pushed me in.

From the darkness of the cell there came the quiet whispered question - "That you then Blackie ?"

"Phil," I whispered in reply, "Is Herman here, too ?"

"Yes, Sarge," came the reply, "I'm here."

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