Escape From POW Camp Near Dresden

Book Extract

Bomber, Cap and myself had always had the idea that when conditions looked right we would make a run for it. The opportunity when it came was amazingly quick, in fact we almost missed our chance.

The three of us were members of a work party marching out to some job or other. Unusually the roads were crowded, for there were hordes of refugees with their carts and livestock streaming the other way when a Russian plane appeared and came down the road strafing. It was instant chaos for everyone, sentries included, dived for cover. When we got to our feet we realised the opportunity we had missed, for there was a dense pine wood not more than two hundred yards away. As we were berating ourselves for lack of initiative we got a second chance as another plane followed the first.

We didn't hesitate this time. We just took off. Another prisoner, a South African called 'Rosie’ Johnson took the same chance and the four of us literally ran for our lives. We were almost into the cover of the wood when bullets started coming our way. Rosie was the unlucky one and he fell wounded or dead. We never saw him again. (Rosie had got his nickname from playing the part of a girl, Rosie, in some army show in a South Africa). I hope he made it back.

We kept on going, confident that we wouldn't be bothered for some time as the sentries could not leave the rest of the party. The wood was one of the huge pine woods that covered so much of Upper Silesa, easy to keep going in, yet with ample cover if we got down low. We slowed down soon and late in the afternoon we came upon a narrow dirt road and a deserted cart. Judging from itscontents it had been abandoned by some refugees. Why it had been left we had no idea. To us it meant one thing, a chance of some food. But the cart hadn't a lot to offer. All that had been left foodwise by its owners was a box of a dozen eggs which had beenoverlooked under some bedding and a large bottle of vinegar. It was here I received a physics lesson for when we started to boil theeggs in the vinegar the ascetic acid softened the shells. To one who had never done physics at school, interesting. 

And so we lived. We were always heading east through what seemed a deserted world and always looking for food, though Cap was now desperate for a cigarette. We had a fortunate escape once when we laid in a clearing by the side of a river and dozed off in the sun. Bomber suddenly woke us up and with a, "Quick, come on!" he disappeared into the trees. We didn't hesitate. We just followed and in the wood he told us that just as he woke up a German soldier had appeared in the field on the opposite bank of the river. He had a towel around his neck and was obviously intending to have a wash in the river but he also had his rifle slung over his shoulder. He had stopped opposite the small clearing where we were, seen us and unslung his rifle. Our battle dress was not greatly different in colour from the brown smocks of the Russians and his reasoning had obviously been, three Russians . . . only forty yards. I can get one, probably two, but the third is doubtful. I am in a field totally devoid of cover so he may get me. I'll go and get help. Bomber with his cap over his eyes had just laid there motionless feigning sleep and watched him as he trotted off up the slope and over the crest of the hill. A few minutes later from the cover of the wood we watched the German return with half a dozen others. The fact that he was carrying his rifle when he went for a wash made us certain that we were getting close to the Russian lines.

Later we had another incident that told us even more emphatically that we were getting close to the Russians. In fact we were in no mans land. We had gone into a house on a cross roads and as usual had gone in to it to see what it had to offer. We had no luck either as regards food or cigarettes, when we heard the sound of a motor bike approaching. Just to be on the safe side, for we could not tell whether it was friend or foe, we went through the house and into a shed behind it where we all sat down. The sound of the engine came closer, then stopped outside the house. Soon after we could hear voices and we knew they whoever they were - were in the house doing exactly what we had been doing a few minutes previously - seeing what it had to offer, But we couldn't make out what language they were speaking. We also realised we were in a tricky situation. If we had been asked to choose the most stupid things to sit on we couldn't have improved on what we had chosen. Bomber was sitting on a upturned bucket which besides cutting a perfect circle in his-behind, clinked at his slightest movement; Cap had sat on an unsteady pile of firewood and I was on a sack of coke that creaked at my every breath.

Help came from an unexpected quarter. Another motor bike could be heard approaching the scene. We heard our fellow occupants dash outside and drag their bike inside. Their conversation stopped and all was silent. The sound of the approaching bike came closer, then it also stopped outside, and we heard the sound of voices as its two riders entered the house. There was a short burst of machine gun fire, more indistinct voices, and shortly afterwards the sound of two motor bike engines fading away. We went back into the house and found the bodies of two dead Germans.

Obviously we were getting warm. Cap went through their pockets to see if they had any cigarettes but had no luck. The Russians had obviously beaten him to it. We moved on, Bomber still rubbing his behind, in the same direction as the motor bike.

It was about now that Cap left us. Desperate for a smoke, he went to go and see if he could find cigarettes in a small hamlet that we could see in the distance and he never came back. I know he survived the war because I was told he turned up at the village of a particular friend of his in the North of England. He had handed the landlord of the local two hundred pounds (a lot of money in ,those days) with the instructions to let him know when it was used up. When that day came, he shook hands with his friend and saidfarewell to the many he had drunk with and left for South Africa.

So then Bomber and I were alone in our search for the Russians. We never found them but all ended well because they found us. We had had discussions as to the best method to make contact - keep under cover until we saw them or walk down the middle of the road so they could see us. We were using the latter system when we made contact. They came from behind us on bikes and we never heard anything until one gave a sort of grunt. We turned round and saw two of them standing astride their bikes with their carbines pointing at us. I was more than glad that we had had the forethought to get a Russian prisoner to coach us

parrot fashion in the phrase, "I am an escaped English prisoner." Parrot fashion perhaps but word perfect. In reply to our party piece one of the Russians grinned and pointed down the road we had just come down. They were point men.

Shades of the Italians in Africa. And so we joined the Russian army. It was standard procedure for odds and sods like us to be passed back behind the lines, but when we let them know we would like to stay they had no objections. I remember the final word was given by a type of political officer. Thinking back he probably thought of us as two western capitalist lackeys who could get killed. They gave us rifle each and we drifted with the rest.

 

Taken from An Average War by Mike Peyton.

© Not to be reproduced without written permission from Fernhurst Books Limited.