On Friday afternoon Xmas Eve we finished work at 3pm. I returned to billet and managed to get a cup of tea prior to going to lower billet to collect a Canadian Red X [Cross] parcel. The weather was mild, just about freezing point. Everyone was busy about the place cleaning up and making decorations. George and Erich one of the guards, went out and brought in a Xmas tree of fair dimensions standing about 4ft high. This was duly decorated with the anti-sound detecting tinfoil which the RAF dropped prior to a raid. We all fed well and retired about 10pm.
Erich the guard a lad of 20 years is the most friendly German we have met. He came into the Barrack and spent the whole night chatting to us. He has no English but Frank Willmer has a little German and we get along quite well. It is amazing how simple it is for people of different tongues to converse with each other. (Air Raid early morning).
Christmas morning up at 7am nearly all the others in bed. George Kember made the coffee and distributed it to the slumbering Gefangenen [translation: Prisoners]. I had a colossal breakfast consisting of prunes and raisins and cream, about 8 or 9 rounds of toast with pork roll, marmalade, butter and biscuits. I started the day by being really full. There was a light layer of snow on the ground just enough to justify a “white Christmas”.
I read “As you Like It” in the morning. At 11.30 am we repaired to the Mess room for dinner which was swine flesh and carrots with boiled potatoes. George and I hurried back to the billet to our Xmas pudding which we had left on the stove to heat up. I made a pint of custard and we ate our Xmas pudding with rare gusto, after which I believe we both retired for a few hours. There was a small barrel of beer, the quality of which was not of the best. Erich came in and we regaled him with Xmas duffs and coffee and cigarettes. The other barrack commenced community singing whilst we were much quieter at first but eventually became hilarious with a few games and some stories of the risque type. I laughed more on Christmas night than l have done so as a POW. Alec Holmes Bsc (Econ) and LCC [Liverpool City Council?] employee remarked that next year he would remember sitting here talking to that “bloke MacDonald”.
It was a reasonable happy Xmas despite our captivity and the fact that we were all thinking of our loved ones at home. We retired about midnight and slept through until 7.50 am. George climbed through the window and the wire to awaken the guards to unlock our door. The Control Officer has decided we must be locked in at night now. It is rather ridiculous as it is the easiest thing in the world to escape through the window and the wire.
The weather has changed to a warm mist and a thaw has set in much to my surprise. After 2 days holiday, the return to the pick and shovel came rather hard. On Friday December 31st the weather changed again and it became bitterly cold with a high wind. The old year was seen out very quietly by us. I slept until midnight but arose to a bottle of beer with which I toasted my loved ones at home whom I knew were thinking of me at this time. The 1st of January 1944 dawned with a tremendous ruddy glow in the East which heralded a storm. This very soon descended on us in form of a blizzard.
There was an air raid on the night of the 30 December and although these raids are not of very long duration they seem to be particularly intense. They rarely last longer than an hour but during that time the whole air seems to be saturated with air-craft and the continuous droning sets up vibrations in the whole billet. I have never heard anything like it anywhere before.
Sunday 2nd of January was the worst day that I have ever had the misfortune to be out in. Worked all day at the clay pit digging a railway cutting. It rained the whole day and at times I was up to my knees in mud. On Monday I was working at my regular job in the Sand Pit and it rained much more heavily and consistently than on Sunday. My greatcoat was this time completely soaked and boots oozed water. In the evening, was somewhat compensated by the arrival of two letters from Joan which cheered me immensely.
This weeks “camp” (POW) newspaper 9/1/44 announced the sinking of the Scharnhorst on December 26th. This paper is quite up to date with the news and publishes the German High Command War Communique every week. [The British prisoners of Stalag IV-B published two periodicals: The New Times and Flywheel.]