These are notes written by my father for school work for his grandson. We found them recently:
It was June 1939, I had to sign on as a Militia Man which was compulsory and in October 1939 I was called up, the war having begun Sept 3rd 1939.
I boarded the train at Middlesbrough Station to Darlington and after an arduous day ended at Alnwick in the 9th Battalion Royal Northumberland Fusiliers. I was billeted with 80 others in the Drill Hall at Alnwick and slept on a palliasse (a thin straw mattress) on the floor of the drill hall.
The following morning after a succession of interviews name, home address etc. I ended the day being Fusilier C L Wood 4275280. Then followed the training to make us all first class soldiers if that was possible.
In December we moved from Alnwick to Gosforth Park Racecourse near Newcastle and about the same time a few NCOs and Officers were drafted to us from the 1st Battalion stationed in Egypt. How smart they were compared to us rookies – we had a long way to be as good as they were! We were a machine gun battalion, and practised on what was called DPguns
(Demonstration Purposes), and it was with these guns we went into action. They were serviced by RAOC but never tried until May 23rd 1940.
At Gosforth Park we were given, but never got embarkation leave. We left there about April 21st arriving in Southampton on April 22nd. The following morning we embarked on a ship called the Fenella, with a red and white Rose in everybody's tin hat because April 23rd is St Georges day. That day is the Regimental Day, because the regimental cap badge
depicted St George killing the dragon.
So off we went to France and we landed at Cherbourg (The Fenella was attacked by Aircraft and sunk 29 May 1940). Moving from the docks in cattle trucks made for horses, we arrived at a tiny village called Monchy Breton eventually ending up at St Omer on the 23rd May 1940. What a surprise was waiting for us. The serviced DP gun jammed after firing one round and to complicate matters we came up against General Rommel’s Army and I became a P.O.W on May 23rd.
What a dejected lot we were being forced to march across France. The water placed at the side of the road in enamel buckets by the French people was kicked over by the German soldiers before anyone could get a drink. It was this behaviour that led me and a companion to escape which wasn't difficult. The danger was being shot if the guard saw you. At least you would be able to get a drink of water whenever you wanted
Hope of getting back to England was limited, we were on the loose in a foreign country, with no idea what was happening, and no way of communicating with anyone. It was inevitable we would be recaptured. After four attempts to escape, I was finally caught near Sedan behind the Maginot Line and where the Germans had broken through the Ardennes. It was from here I was taken to Beau Châteaux in Belgium. I was put to work for several weeks for the German Luftwaffe (German Air-force) as a skivvy, washing dishes etc. I was given food leftover in the cook-house to take back to the camp. There was another 7 British soldiers with whom I shared grub. They had built a partial grass hut to sleep in with pine branches laid on the roof to keep the rain out.
Our next camp was Trier in Germany which was placed on a hill. It had wooden barrack huts and it was in this camp I was arrested for watching the French roast potatoes on an open space in front of the hut. When I asked the French interpreter what I had done wrong all he said to me was “you go to prison twice”. It wasn’t until the early hour early hours that I realised what he was trying to tell me. I was in a cell in one of the barracks and therefore I was in a prison in a prison camp.
Next morning after swilling my cell out, I was brought to the entrance of the barracks and my gaoler asked what had to be done with me? The answer I found out in the next minute for I was turned towards the doors and given a hefty kick up the backside which propelled me me through the doors. I ended up sprawled flat on my face in the prison camp. I picked myself up and hurried back to my own billet. We had still not been officially recognised as prisoners of war. It was only after travelling another two days and three nights on a train to the next camp Stalag X11A Limburg that we were.
I became Krugsgefangener (Prisoner of war) No 21556 and got my first taste of the most revolting dish I had ever tasted in my life, and to make matters worse it was cooked by British P.O.Ws. It was supposed to be a German delicacy, Sauerkraut! How on earth could they mess sour cabbage up. Well I’ll tell you they were too lazy to take it out of the barrel and wash it in cold water. Instead they just tipped out the barrels of cabbage vinegar and all and added few potatoes.
I was glad to leave StalagX11A. We travelled across Germany for another 3 days and 3 nights, 80-100 in each cattle truck. We ended up in Thorn near Danzig on the river Vistula.
Did I say I was glad to leave Limburg? Well, I would go back - at least it was clean. This was the Balloonhalle Fort X11A, Stalag XXA Thorn Poland and it was here I was introduced to the louse. On entering the camp we were searched and were told only one shirt or one pullover, not both. During this search any excess clothing was taken. However this did not affect me. I had only a thin German shirt given to me in Limburg. I eagerly accepted a French Army pullover from one of the lads with excess clothing.
After finding my billet which was a marquee tent I wandered around the camp and came across a sergeant with his shirt off delousing. On asking what he was doing, he said “Have you just come in today?" To which I said "Yes!" "Well you'll be here tomorrow!” and I was. Those lice were to become a pest to all P.O.Ws. in Stalag XXA for the next 18 months.
Thorn or Stalag XXA consisted of 7 forts built by East Prussians in the nineteenth century. Of these, Fort 19, was the Laundry, Fort 12 was the showers and Fort 14 the Hospital Forts. 11,13, 15, and 17 housed all P.O.W,s with tempory camps added to Fort 11 became 11A. Similarly Fort 13 became 13A and we were overun with lice, nobody escaped, everybody had them and I mean everybody! The German Authority delighted in this I'm sure, by moving prisoners with lice from one camp to another where prisoners were clear of lice.
During this period of 1940/41 I moved from Fort 12A to Fort 15 and it was there everybody got rid of lice one room at a time. Clothes were deloused in a steam engine and fresh straw put in all palliasses. This was short lived however because we were moved to Fort 13A and awoke the following morning crawling with lice again. Later in 1940 we moved to Fort 11 and once again got rid of the lice only to be transferred shortly after to 11A and became once again lousy. Off again to Fort 13 we were to became stationary for a few months so getting once again comparatively clean
Red Cross parcels were by now beginning to filter through and we were receiving one parcel and 50 cigarettes per man each week. When Germany declared war on Russia we were being given two parcels a week. I'll give you an idea of the content of a parcel although some varied depending on which in town they were packed. On average there were 16-20 items a parcel such as: Packet Tea, Tinned Margarine, Tinned Jam/Marmite, Salt and Pepper, Tinned Pilchards, Dairylea Cheese (which was nearly always mouldy), Packet Hard Jack, Bar of Soap, Bar of Chocolate, Tin of Cocoa, packet of Greens Yorkshire Pudding Mix, Jelly Crystals and Custard Powder, Tinned Bacon and Tin of Powdered Eggs, Packet Sugar and Tinned Nestles Milk. This would last the whole week especially if you “mucked in” with someone. This meant only opening one article, like a meat loaf for instance, which you shared with your mucker . This meant your parcel would last much longer.
Propaganda was rife in the camps, sometime true and sometimes totally untrue. A smattering of truth mixed with a load of codswallop. By now things were beginning to pick up. Clothing parcels and letters were always welcome. As time went on news came through on special days and we could only assume someone had a radio and was picking up the BBC. Long before Germany declared war on Russia we knew there was something going on because troops were continually moving east through Poland. A never ending cry from one working party to another was “Joe's on the Border”.
Working parties worked mainly with a shovel, and each day the majority of P.O.Ws took something out of the camp to “flog” to the Poles. It meant asking to go the toilet thereby meeting a Pole who had something to sell, which was mainly bread for cocoa chocolate or underwear from your Red Cross parcel. All this was illegal and we were forever watching the guards to keep out of their way until we had sealed our bargain. You would then go back to the trench or wherever you where working with a loaf or two concealed in your battle dress. This meant sometimes the loaf had to be cut in half or even quarters to distribute round your body, and I became quite adept at this although many a time had a “bread rash” where the loaf chafed on my body. .
Alas we were on our way again, but this time to leave Poland. We spent another 2 nights and days on the train. The reason for the longevity of the journey was we were shunted into sidings to allow troop trains to pass. We arrived at our destination which was Reigersfield Upper Silesia. By now the Germans were getting organised and we became Bau und Arbeits Battalion 20 BAB20 for short.
This camp was all section huts, and the usual barbed wire round the perimeter. Hot and Cold water was available in the wash room which had showers for about 20 at a time. It was thirteen weeks before we received another parcel from the Red Cross because it took them that long to catch up with us at the new address. In the meantime everybody went to work unless you were excused by the RAMC Lt Col. I was put on a party supposedly of joiners erecting section huts in a camp over the road from ours. It was to house Italians rounded up by the Germans in Italy to work for the Deutsches Reich (the German National State). This job didn't last long with the erection of the section huts coming to a close. I was 1 of 10 from the working party of 20 to be picked to work for a firm called Duclek. They had been contracted to build houses for key workers of a Chemical Plant called I G Farben. This only lasted for 6 months and again I was 1 of 6 from the 10 chosen to go and work for the same firm who had a small building site in Heydebreck. This meant travelling by train from Reigersfield to Heydebreck about 10 miles up the line. The guard who had been to the Russian front had been wounded in the arm and ended up in BAB20. This job lasted a considerable period and we had via the Red Cross new battle dress, greatcoat and boots. I sent a letter home asking for a metal cap badge of the Regiment.
Oh what a difference! We went to the station with our button and cap badges highly polished in our battledress and we were aware of the discussions on the platform by the civilian population regarding the difference between the British and German uniforms. There were times when we really went over the top by washing our gaiters in the wash room putting on German toothpaste which made a very good white. The job was coming to an end and so was the war.
In June 44 I got a job with a firm called Beringer of Mannheim, Central Heating Specialists as a welders helper, putting the welding gear together and then watching the welder do the work. Then it happened American bombers flew over from Italy, bombing the factory, and putting it out of action for a week or so. On the day the factory started working again the Americans were back again and this continued even on Christmas day.
By Jan 25th 1945 the Russians were only 50-70 miles away and were firing over the camp into Cosel, about 7 kilometres away. At 5 o’clock that night all Red cross parcels were issued and we left camp to cross The Oder at midnight. After being forced to march all night we were only 13 Kilometres from the camp but we were across the river where the Russians were pulled up and resting, while we trudged further away in a couple of feet of snow. The following 3 months were hazardous We would march approx 30km(18.6 miles) a day, sleeping in barns in villages chosen by the German Authority. After two weeks all our Red Cross and rations were gone and we could only rely on the farmer into which barn we were billeted for any food he could spare. At this stage in the war there was very little and we often went hungry. The weather didn't help either - often 15º to 20º below zero
It was about this time that Maurice and I decided to look(scrounge) for food after each days march. (But first I must tell you about Maurice, who I have just met again in Bournemouth after not seeing each other for 42 years).
Maurice was a matelot on the HMS Glowworm patrolling off Norway when it was trapped by a German cruiser and a destroyer. After a fierce battle it was sunk in the North Sea, as related to me by Maurice I have since read an account of the battle, so I know what Maurice told me at the time was true. His Captain decided to take on the Cruiser Von Hipper and destroyer, hoping to sink the Von Hipper and then deal with the destroyer. Drawing a circle with a smoke screen the Glowworm kept hoping to be in range of the Von Hipper and sink it reversing engines to come back into the smoke screen. At one stage it crept out of the smoke screen and the Von Hipper was dead ahead. It was inevitable they would hit the cruiser but with not enough speed to damage it . Their location now known it was at the mercy of the Von Hipper and was sunk with 500 crew on board. Only 28 were picked up by the Von Hipper. The gallant captain was awarded the VC posthumously - he had gone down with the Glowworm.
Maurice and I decided to try our luck going out each night (the guards were tucked up beside the fire in the farmers house). So our ventures began. We always made a point of finding out if there was a village near the one we were staying in. It was obvious that we couldn't knock on doors in the village in which we were staying as we might have been confronted by one of our guards. So off we would go scrounging each night and one night Maurice and I knocked on a door and asked for food. We were asked to come in and were given a couple of slices of bread. But one particular German visiting this family asked us quite a number of questions about why we were out without a guard. I stalled him by saying we were allowed out until 10 o'clock just as the French were. He seemed satisfied, so Maurice and I left to look for somewhere else. Then a voice shouted HALT! It was the German who had questioned us in the house. He said he was the Burgermeister of the village and didn't believe our story and was going to take us back to our own village. We didn't want this so I said to Maurice when I count to 3 you run one way and I’ll run the other. He won't be able to catch both of us. At the count of 3 Maurice was off one way, me the other, with the Burgermeister after me. He caught me and took me back to the Farmhouse I said I was from, and knocked on the door . The door was opened by the farmer and after a discussion he let us in. The guards who had been sitting round the fire all stood up. One asked me if I came from that farm. I said “yes”. Well, all hell broke out, one of the guards took me to the door, and gave me a smart kick up the backside, and I was off to the barn.
This did not suit the Burgermeister and he came into the barn looking for me, and I could see his dilemma - he couldn't tell one prisoner from another, “Where is the prisoner who has just come in” but nobody answered and without being able to identify me, he couldn't take it any further and so he went out of the barn mumbling something about prisoners wandering about the village, they could be killed in their beds. He reprimanded the guards for allowing us to get out, and so we settled down for the night, ready to march again the next day. We left behind a very exasperated Burgermeister (Mayor).
On another occasion Maurice and I were stood in a back-alley, deciding whether to go across the road and knock on a door. Suddenly 2 of our blokes came from out of the blue, they knocked on the door and were welcomed in. While we were watching the door someone else was watching us. It was a lady and after talking to us for a while, she told us to wait there while she went and got us some food. I didn't like it and knowing our lads were still in the house, I said to Maurice to go and knock on the door and I would wait for the lady to come back. If she brought anyone back I would be the only one caught. I was so intent on watching the door opposite that I didn't see her come back, until she said where's your comrade. She had 2 parcels of sandwiches in her hand. I said if she gave me the sandwiches I would give them to Maurice. This was not satisfactory she wanted to give them to Maurice herself. We both went over and knocked on the door, the people that answered the door knew the lady so we were invited in and she gave Maurice his sandwiches. The other 2 men were drinking and listening to the radio. After a chat the lady left. Maurice and I were beginning to enjoy ourselves, when there was a knock on the door, It was a fellow who seemed to be in evening dress, all dressed up like a tailors dummy. He said he had come for me and Maurice and would we follow him. We knew the lady had sent him so we duly obliged. He took us to a building not far away, and down a passage and marched us across the floor. There was our lady waving us over. It was a restaurant packed with Germans solders having a meal. Taking a deep breath Maurice and I walked across the room. She gave us a glass of some sort of spirit, then Maurice and I snuck out the back door and legged it back to camp, having enough of German soldiers for one night.
Passing through the corner of Czechoslovakia we were given bread galore and went to bed with a full belly. Spring had broken and our boots were absolutely wringing wet and nearly as uncomfortable as they were when they were frozen We continued putting straw in them to dry them out. The weather was starting to pick up the warmer winds clearing the snow and ice and there was water everywhere.
The war was coming to a close and several R.A.F. sorties had fired on us. This led to the German Camp Kommandant issuing an instruction for us to wave a towel or anything white. Three RAF fighters came out of the clouds, and cut right across our column firing in the air, this caused part of the column to halt, the front part moving forward still waving towels. The RAF came back around and it was then I noticed 2 German lorries at the side of the road in the space we had just left, with the German drivers and their mates heading for the woods on foot. This was too easy for the RAF but made good target practice for them. As they flew off leaving the 2 wagons on fire, ammunition bursting all over, they tipped their wings in acknowledgement. It was sometime before we got going again.
It was now April and we found ourselves marching through the woods from the small village where we had been billeted and into Bayreuth (I believe it was the home of Wagner). We were put to work, well half of us the other half going on to the next billet The intention being we would work in the morning and change over in the afternoon. We were put to work filling in bomb holes at the station in Bayreuth and the keen nose of the P.O.Ws led them to a wagon stationary on its own in the railway sidings, No wonder, it was full of black bread and at midday whoever unloaded that wagon would find it missing. On the changeover while waiting on the platform one of the prisoners opened a crate that was stood there. It was full of cheese, before you could blink there was nothing left and 4 of the cheeses were smuggled into the special pockets of my greatcoat tail which were sewn in by me to carry a loaf in each. Panic ensued as an Alsation dog was brought in and sniffed the empty crate. The Railway Police were called. Hearts pounding the dog went from one to the other ending up sniffing a haversack placed against the wall. “Whose haversack is this?" shouted the guard and one of the lads stepped forward, the Alsation taking a bite at his backside. An air raid warning began and we were quickly lined up and began to walk back to our billet which was a brickyard. We had hardly got moving when the siren started wailing at a fast rate, which meant the planes were overhead. The bombs were falling. I slipped off my haversack and coat and threw them against the wall and dived under a tree, behind a prominent hotel on the main road. It became extremely uncomfortable. Sat under the tree I felt exposed to danger. Several others felt the same. One by one we dived into the cellar of the hotel and minutes later thought it was the end. Flames shot up the length of the cellar and the iron doors were rattling like hell. Several minutes latter the all clear was sounded and we came out to one hell of a mess. The wall were I had left my greatcoat and haversack was under about 10 feet of rubble and at least 3 storeys were missing from the hotel. As I made my way up the main street the Chief of Police was pointing up in the air shouting “your comrades”. Who cared, all I wanted was to get out of Bayreuth, which eventually I did. I met some of the afternoon shift who showed me the way. That night we were on the move and marched back through Bayreuth which was in flames. I think by now we were going round in circles. Nurenburg had been taken and we were on our way back it seemed to the Russian Front
Five days later we were in a small village called Winklarn and the Camp Kommandant who was quite a good chap really kept us in that village 3 days. On the third day we were paraded in the village square. The bells of the church were ringing and we were marched to the main road which was still only a country road. Being last in the column, I felt something extraordinary was happening and was tempted to fall back but a red haired guard made us close up to the rest. Looking back I saw a massive armoured column miles long coming along the same way and I said to Maurice “don’t look now but the whole German Army is retreating”. Far from it being the German Army it was General Patton's American Army. The day was April 23rd 1945 Five long years exactly since since I left Southampton.
The Americans were Magnificent. “K” rations galore and cigarettes by the carton. Free at last!
Events startd to move fast, we were driven to Nuremburg by lorry and met Marlene Dietrich serving coffee on Nuremburg airfield. I was given an autographed photo of her after having finished her duty of dishing out coffee to the American Forces. Oh how hard it is to break the habit of queueing and coming round again for “buckshees”!
Goodbye Marlene as we boarded the plane to land again at Frankfurt The next morning we took off to land at Rheims and in great style commanded the German POWs to polish our boots, a tailor to alter our uniform to fit, our hairdresser and an artist to draw us. This is how the Army should be!
But alas we had to move on and Lancaster bombers were used to ship us out of Rheims. The crew of the Lancaster bomber allowed us one at a time to see the approaching white cliffs of England. We were home and landed at wing near Berkhamstead and guess who was there to meet us -The Salvation Army. It was the 1st May 1945 and on each bed a telegram saying something like “Arrived in England will be home shortly,” all you had to do was sign it
Going through the formalities of being kitted out in British Uniform took two days and on 3rd May I boarded a train at King Cross and into the welcome arms of my mother, father and sisters Doreen and Moria at Middlesbrough Station.
After several weeks leave I reported back to the Army and started training all over again at Otley. After 3 weeks or so we had an interview and I asked to go back to my old regiment and was drafted to Blackpool Squires Gate, next on to North Wales, Treadder Bay and Beaumaris, from there I was demobbed at York.
