Wednesday 15 [Sept 1943] [to end of September 1943]

Johnson and [illegible] went 40 kilo’s to 70 Camp, telephoned back “Stand fast until I get back.”

After the stupendous happenings of the past few days and the all too frequent appearances of German planes in the sky, to the exclusion of all others, l was not surprised when l was awakened by George with the following words, which has stamped his memory forever on my brain. “Mac, Mac they say Jerry is all round the camp”. My immediate reaction was to jump up in bed only to relax with “Well, to hell with him if he’s here, he’s here and I’m going to sleep.” The possibility of going to Germany did not disturb my sleep. I had made up my mind that the Germans had come tor one reason only and that was to take us to Germany. That is briefly what l felt around about midnight on 15th September 1943. The following days passed without incident. There were no added restrictions. The only thing stopped was the BBC news on the camp wireless. Eventually the order came for us to pack up and take as many blankets as possible. This came in no way as a shock to me as I was anticipating the journey to Germany from the start, nevertheless I was disappointed.

Strangely enough, out of 6,000 men our platoon were first to leave. lt is very difficult to portray one’s feelings at this time, but l think to my mind the fact that l had never ceased to be prisoner softened the blow of being whisked away to Germany when freedom was in sight. Unlike some people, l never did consider myself “out of the woods”. Perhaps it was my Scottish caution but whilst not being a perfect wet blanket on the Victory celebrations, l gently recommended reserve to my closer friends. In my opinion the Battle at Salerno and the Allied advance up the East coast were proceeding tar too slowly. So at about 1 pm 18th September 1943 l marched through the gates of Campo Concentramento 53 Macerata Urbisalgia Bonservizi laden with kit and food. The march to the station and the inevitable 40 men to the cattle truck was at once an extreme of pleasure and pain. The joy of being outside the wire and walking down a street with houses and people and the physical effort of carrying two haversacks or tinned food, a kit bag full of kit and surrounded with a blanket, wearing a greatcoat and as much clothing as possible has to be experienced to be imagined. The sun beat down in its usual manner and in about 2 mins. I was soaking wet with sweat. It is remarkable that although the temperature in ltaly is not as high as the desert, one feels the heat much more. In Libya the perspiration never runs.

The journey into Germany was not so trying as I was anticipating. Nevertheless to spend one night in a cattle truck with 40 men and 40 kits which were very bulky to say the least, is an experience which has to be tried to be appreciated. In the first place one lies on the floor. But then again one doesn’t lie because 39 others wish to lie and they can’t either. Anyway eventually with a considerable amount of juggling everyone on his side, knees under his chin etc etc, we are down for the night and excruciating cramp. At 2 am that night we were in Bologna. ln the still night, one single rifle shot rang out. I understand there had been some little opposition to the Germans who had declared martial law there. We continued our journey north and about mid-day were at Verona, which appeared to me to be a very industrial town the immediate suburbs rather like one of our midland towns. Large blocks of workers flats and Dopolavoro clubs. [The National Recreational Club (Opera Nazionale Dopolavoro), or OND was the Italian Fascist leisure and recreational organisation for adults. For further information see explanatory text] .

We did not seem to be wasting much time for we soon were into the province of Trento [see map] and were on our way to the Brenner Pass. The journey now became of the greatest interest to me. The scenic beauty was incomparable with anything else that I have personally experienced, although part of the Journey from Verona-Trento-Balsano reminded me to some extent of the Scottish Highlands but much grander. Remarkably soon after leaving Verona we were in the lower reaches of the Alps. The road and railway ran together through the passes and swiftly flowing rivers accompanied us. The cliffs on either side ran sheer to the sky, whilst picturesquely perched on the very edge of the cliff were dotted here and there large monasteries. How provisions reached these apparently inaccessible places is beyond me. From my limited view of this part of the pass, which was the easiest part of it, l formed the opinion that it would be impossible to force in modern warfare. A couple of machine gun nests and a battery of 25lbers would keep a whole army at bay.

Trento was a smallish town, main industry seemed to be a large brick or tile works. The houses which were visible, were of a very pleasing style (where it had not been amended by the RAF). Large windows, venetian blinds, balconies and flat roofs. Green and creams being the predominant colours. After Trento one could see very delightful little Alps with a few houses and a church. The lay-out and architecture being to me typically Alpine Postcardish. The pass now became very narrow and the change in temperature was amazing in ½ a minute we went from hot sun shine into howling wind and cold rain. This lasted about half an hour and we eventually emerged into bright sunshine and rolled into BALZANO [see map] viewing the entirely snow covered mountains against a background of clear blue sky . Here I had conversation with an Italian officer who told me he was also a prisoner of the Germans having changed sides in Sicily. There were a number of train-loads of Italians here, some of whom had fired a shot for us, but the majority were just roped in by the Germans and whipped to Germany as hostages and forced labour. Balzano is a very beautiful spot indeed. The houses are charming, the usual cream and green being very much in evidence. The surrounding mountains and alps being exactly as per Alpine Tourist Guide Book Cable Railway and all complete. Everything seemed very quiet here and I was unable to form any opinion about the feelings of the people. Soon after leaving Balzano darkness descended upon us and it was fully dark when we reached Brenner and the border, to be rudely awakened by guttural cries of “Raus” [Out!] whilst we were counted by two German officials. Soon we were again on our way but this time in Germany (or Austria). We passed through Innsbruck and the dawn found us in a large extensive plain with the snow covered Alps receding in the distance. The climate had noticeably changed overnight and I immediately had a feeling of being central Europe in Autumn. There was that sort of feeling in the air. The cultivated plain stretched on all sides as far as the eye could see. What houses I saw were a vast improvement on the ltalian ones being very clean and business like. A feature common to all of them being the very acutely angled roofs, this type of roof being to prevent heavy snow lying on them. (Munich was the first large town in Southern Germ any through which we passed). At ROSENHEIM in the early morning we were allowed out of the train for a few minutes whilst we collected 1500 grams loaf between 4 men and a pint of a sort of Porridge which was most acceptable. All the Germans we had come in contact with up to present had been very friendly. The guards on the train making numerous requests for us to sing British songs. At Munich two things struck my eye. One, the fact that the RAF had hit numerous factories with great precision and two, a strange piece of architecture, probably a University or similar building. [drawing here] [I think he is referring to the Frauenkirche. See photo] Perhaps the house of German Art.

Munich is famous for Art and beer but of these l cannot speak from experience. The buildings in the town were very high and decorative a sort of dull red brick being extensively used. There was very little sign of life in either Rosenheim or Munich. We bowled along through Southern Germany all day and that night, in the morning the countryside had not visibly changed except for the appearance of some pine forests, and we arrived at MUHLBERG [see map] and STALAG IVB. [Stalag IVB was one of the largest POW camps in Germany. It was opened in September 1939 and covered about 74 acres. For further information see here].

Here we still suffered conditions of severe over-crowding. 300 of us sleeping in an army type hut on the floor. When everyone was down to it, it was impossible to move. Nevertheless despite these conditions of overcrowding we were treated to one amazing scene of German efficiency. The process was what we very quickly termed the “MIXER” and is worthy of a somewhat close description. One stripped off entirely in the open and hung all one’s clothes on a coat-hanger affair. This together with all one’s kit was placed on a trolley and conveyed into an oven where it was treated to a heat and gas delousing process. Whilst this was going on, one proceeded into a shower room, spotlessly clean and tiled, the water was the right heat and slightly disinfected, from the shower and in an arc light and inspection for scabies and other skin diseases, through a door at which sat a Russian who dabbed the hair with an incredibly strong disinfectant; then before an electric dryer and on into M.I. room for anti-typhus inoculation and vaccination.

From the M.I. room we collected our deloused kit and proceeded into the camp proper where the sleeping accommodation was very little better and I slept on a brick floor for 6 days. There was plenty of space for exercise. The next process was “registration” in which particulars of age, capture, profession etc, fingerprints, photograph etc are taken.

Here Peter decided to stay behind whilst George and I went off on a working party of 80 men. We sallied forth on lorry and trailer with wooden seats in bright sunshine. Through Torgau on Elbe and Wittenburg – Lutherstadt also on the Elbe, to Reinsdorf Brick and Tile Works. Luther worked in Wittenberg University for many years and the name Lutherstadt is added to distinguish the town from one also of the same name and on the Elbe N. W. of Berlin. Wittenberg strikes me as a typical small German town many of the streets being narrow and cobbled with high houses and shops on either side. There is very little to be seen in the shop windows with the exception of bread. Reinsdorf is about 6 kilos from Wittenberg. Our billet is situated about ¾ mile from the factory on a small hillock and surrounded by firs, pines and silver birches and heather. There are 20 men here in 2 rooms, 16 in one room and 4 in ours in which we have stove, table, 2 [illegible] and shelves. Coal bricks are plentiful and the room if anything is too hot.