218738 Pte. William Homer Harrison British Army 8th Btn. Royal Worcestershire Regiment from:Coventry This is my dad William Harrison's story in his own words. He wrote this as he was 'under spotlight' in an edition of Firm & Forrester.
Joined up in September 1949. Worked on The Gort line winter early 1940, French/Belgium boarder. March 1940 maginotline. Forward outposts soar basin. Moved into Belgium 13/5/1940 took up positions in Waterloo. Fighting retreat back to Wormnoute. Where we made our last stand rear guard action Dunkirk, where a panzer division tore us to pieces. Myself and 6 others taken prisoner 31/5/1940 after hiding in a bull shed with 3 rounds of ammo between us. Very hungry and tired as not eaten or slept for at least 6 days. The following 3 weeks or so very hazy in mind, being march daily.
We came to a halt at Charleville and put to work unloading barges of sugar, cheese, jam etc from Holland. Sometime in August we were loaded into cattle trucks (60 to a truck). Did not get off until we arrived in Poland, which was days later. I was that weak and tired, I had to fall out onto the train track. The next for and a half years was put to work in various places and jobs from farming to mining.
I did make 2 escapes. First one I was recaptured within a couple of days. The second time I went on the run for five weeks and spent a few days with the Polish under-ground movement. I was caught again and put into heavy punishment camp for 6 weeks. There I could not speak, if you did, it was a boot or rifle butt. (Dad did have a very deep hollow in his shoulder from a rifle butt). Hard labour by day, solitary confinement by night.
In January 1945 thousands of us were taken to Marienburge as the Russians advanced. We were put on the march which lasted until April 29th when we were released by general Pattons army, close to the river Elbe, after marching around 1,200 kilometres mostly through snow and temperature around -30.
I did have some good times during the 5 years as p.o.w. as well as bad times. I always elected myself as 'confidence' man on working commandos demanding our rights under the Geneva Convention. One of the German control officers was about 6' 4" tall I called him Long Tom. We had many battles but gained mutual respect for each other. It was during the long march that I gave way and dropped exhausted into the snow wanting to die. The next thing I knew was a pain in my side and a German voice shouting 'Harrison, again! What. Get up you bloody dog! ' I could not get up so Long Tom picked me up and put me onto a German farm cart, as the civilians were being evacuated. They cared for me as best they could for a few days until I was strong enough to join the p.o.w. column again. I think of Long Tom often for he did save my life.
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