LUFT STALAG VII-A

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Arrival

 

Finally, late Sunday, we left the snake pit, as it came to be called, and after showers and delousing, arrived at the new compound sometime early Monday morning (Lincoln’s birthday). The new barracks were very crowded, and there was a lot of confusion. 170 men slept in 12-man bunks with lots of large beasts (fleas, bedbugs, etc.), and there was just one latrine for 1,600 men. The situation seemed impossible, but in a few days we were organized into combines, and things began to get better. 

One night the latrine ran over, and the whole camp smelled awful. The goons (guards) were asked to empty it yesterday, but they didn’t get around to it. Today we went on strike and refused to fall out for appel (the man count). We held out as long as we could, not moving until they finally forced us out with bayonets and guard dogs. At least we made our point. After three hours of deliberation, the Germans agreed that our grievances were justified and that they had not held to their promises. So, they promised to do better. During the parley, the honey wagon came to clean out the latrine. It took a long time to pump it all out.

 

On Tuesday, February 22nd – Washington’s birthday – the Germans moved us back to the snake pit for two days while they fumigated the barracks. The louses were always a problem, but you learned to live with them. I doubted the fumigation would get rid of them completely. The most exciting part of that day turned out to be the long air raid we had. They were getting more and more frequent and were always a good morale booster. One day we had an air raid when the weather was mild, and the guards let us stay outside. We lay on our backs and watched wave after wave of B-24s fly overhead. Along with the bombers, there were P-37s and P-38s flying cover. There were planes everywhere. Off in the distance, you could hear and actually feel the bombs exploding in the distance. They must have bombed several places that day. It was exhilarating, and the morale was sky high.

 

On Thursday, the 24th, after showers and delousing, we returned to the combine. The camp settled into somewhat of a routine. One day bled into the next, and time crawled by. The men were restless, waiting for something, anything, to happen. The weather was miserable. It would snow, then melt, then be damp, and then get cold again. Most of the time, it was cold as blazes. March 4th marked my brother Herb’s birthday, and on the 17th, St. Patrick’s Day, my dad turned 52. On March 24th we held a picture parade in the morning which was interrupted by an air raid. Once again, wave after wave of bombers flew overhead. All the kriegies cheered, and the mood of the camp was upbeat.

 

April arrived on Easter Sunday in 1945. It was a very beautiful day. Al and I prepared a big meal to celebrate the occasion. We tried to conserve the food but ended up bashing it all in one day. We got sick from eating so much, but it felt good to have a full stomach.

 

I had been shot down one year ago today, and I hoped the next year would see me home. I thought about home a lot. I would find out later that my parents and Marybeth received word of my MIA status on April 16, 1944. The telegram read that I was missing since April 1 in the European theatre. They wouldn’t know of my imprisonment until five months later on August 10th.

 

Some Indians next door were moved out on April 9th, and a bunch of Australian officers took their place. Our barracks were split up and distributed among the remaining barracks. Al & I were moved to 37A. About the time we moved, South Camp of Sagan came into our barracks and also set up tents on our grounds. The rest of the week was in a complete uproar. In addition to South Camp, we found out that Nurenberg had been evacuated and the prisoners from that camp moved here. We were crowded before, but now there were twice as many prisoners: over 250,000! The men from South Camp virtually took over and completely wrecked the place. A slit trench disappeared, and guard wires were being ripped down. Fence posts were disappearing one by one and being used as firewood. Bartering with the GIs south of us was rampant. 

The uproar calmed down considerably on April 13th. President Roosevelt had died, and we were all stunned. We had all shared Roosevelt’s hope for world peace, but now we didn’t know what to expect. At any rate, he was dead and a new man, Truman, was our President and Commanding Officer. The United States still moved on and would continue to do so. The next day we held memorial services. Chaplain Daniels and the British padres said prayers, and we all came to salute as taps was blown and echoed. The service was very moving.

 

Our first chance to get out of the camp came on Saturday, April 21st. We went on a wood gathering walk to a wood about two and a half kilometers north of our camp. On the way back, we met some locals and traded cigarettes for some dahl (split peas). We also picked up a kohlrabi and some potatoes for a Sunday meal. The next day we suffered through bad stomach gas and a touch of dysentery as a result of the big meal.

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