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501467 Private Albert Howard Army 214 Field Ambulance, 'B' Company Royal Army Medical Corps.
Albert Howard was my uncle, who was born 5th October 1919 in Londons' East End, the son of a Port of London Authority policeman also named Albert.
Shortly before the outbreak of WW2 he enlisted in the Royal Army Medical
Corps as 7348810 Pte. Howard, A.E. He joined 'B' Company of 214 Field
Ambulance.
By Christmas 1942 his unit was in North Africa, from where he
sent my mother a Photostat greetings card, which I have inherited together
with a number of Aerogram letters. In one dated June 1943, he writes of
spending four days in a rest camp, where "... there is good swimming in the sea and a bus service to the town, where there are good service clubs and cinemas. You know that the King came out here recently, and we were
inspected by him. I need not say what sort of preparations had to be made
for the Royal visit!!!"
In October 1943 he writes: "I can now tell you what you may already have
guessed, that we are in Italy." He continues: "The towns are not up to much now, as you can imagine, but the people received us in a fairly friendly fashion."
Later that month he writes: "We are in action in Italy, as you may have
guessed. It is not too bad really. Sometimes we are very busy, and sometimes there is very little to do. The worst thing is the noise, which at times is deafening. Most of it is ours though. We get a lot of shelling now and again - though not dangerously close."
On 23rd December '43 he writes: "...There is not much doing here at present, except getting ready for Christmas.
He sent a few quite brief Photostat letters until 25th June 1944, when he
reported that he had been in hospital suffering from impetigo, which had
cleared up nicely.
That however must have been when he 'went into the bag.'
His next communication is a 'Kriegsgefangenpost' card from Stalag IXA, where he has become POW Nr 142942. I have two of these postcards dated late in 1944, which are written in pencil, and are reassuring, if necessarily extremely brief.
He was repatriated late in 1945, and married the Red Cross nurse who had
been assigned to look after him.
I remember him telling us afterwards that early in 1945 gunfire could be
heard in the camp, and seemed to be getting nearer in the East than in the
West. Then one morning they woke up to find the guards gone, and the camp
gates open. The prisoners gathered to discuss what should be done. Many
favoured sitting tight waiting to be liberated. My uncle Bert was among
those who feared that the Russians might well get there before the Allies,
and take them into a new captivity. He joined a group who decided to set out on foot westwards, in the hope of reaching the advancing Allies. Hungry and nearly exhausted after several days on the road, they reached an abandoned farm, where there were still a few cows and some chickens.
With shelter and the promise of milk, eggs and meat available, it was
decided to hole up there and hope that the Allies would reach them first.
During the weeks that followed they were able to trade eggs, milk and
vegetables for cigarettes, German sausages & other valuables with the
fleeing troops and refugees who passed, until the Allies did actually
arrive.
He went on to have a successful career and raise five sons before he died in 1981.
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