- Contributed by
- Angie Warburton
- People in story:
- Ron Bates and Patrick McGowan
- Location of story:
- Europe
- Background to story:
- Army
- Article ID:
- A8996160
- Contributed on:
- 30 January 2006
Mr Ron Bates: Prisoner of War 1940-1945 — Part II
Life Inside Stalag VIII B Camp
I should like to explain life inside Stalag VIII B Camp. Firstly, sleeping accommodation consisted of three-storey bunk beds, a pallias filled with straw and one blanket. The top bunk was the best as you didn't get a boot in your head when someone wanted to relieve himself. There were 180 men to each building; a washing room with cold water showers upon concrete floors; white walls and ceiling, and one tiled square heating block from floor to ceiling with grids on all sides. We were allowed one shovel full of coal to burn per day, which lasted about 2 hours, so in winter it was perishing cold. Tables consisted of one row, made of cheap wood knocked together. They were not used much because what we got to eat each day just wasn't worth the effort to get off your bunk for. Tempers flared a lot between us as the food was not enough. In the morning, we were given a billycan full of hot coffee, without sugar or milk. Later, at 11.30, we had two hot muddy potatoes -- all colours inside -- and a can of watery soup. That was your lot until 3pm when the bread came in the form of a small loaf. This loaf was to feed five men and, by placing the metal disc from around your neck on the bread, it was cut into five portions. The only snag was that two men had to have smaller pieces as the loaves sloped off at both ends. To try to make it fair, we used five playing cards -- ace, king, queen, jack and ten -- dealt them out to the five men so, whoever got the small end pieces were just unlucky. If it wasn't for a Red Cross parcel arriving once a month, we would not have survived. Unfortunately, when our people bombed Germany, we did not get any parcels for the last 2 years.
Anything for a Good Cup of Tea
I must now tell you how we used to boil water to make a cup of tea. We cut, or, should I say, bared the electrical wire that ran to the lights above our bunk beds then connected wires and ran them down to two bits of metal fastened to a piece of wood. This acted like an element in a kettle. We were alright until one day a guard came into the compound, discovered our contraption and dismantled it. There followed a nasty scene between the guard and the nearest prisoner. Of course, after that, we started to make our own implement out of empty dried milk tins. This idea was known as a blower. It made its own air flow which, in turn, burned any bits of paper we could find, e.g. cig packets. Thus, we were able to have a brew of tea without tapping into the electric supply. This idea caught on throughout the camp.
Working Life in the Camp
The Germans split the camp into heavy work, such as coal mining, and light work, such as in a factory or on a farm. Those chaps with only one arm or leg were kept in the compound.
At the time, I was 19 years old and was put in the heavy gang for coal mining because I was young and fit. So, the day came when 500 prisoners, including me, set off on our way to Glywitch, a coal mine in Poland. A small camp was put up, with barbed wire right round it, and 20 German soldiers were billeted nearby, with their commander to guard us. I remembered my brother-in-law who worked down an English coal mine who had told me they'd had to work bent forward. He'd said the coal face was usually about 4 or 5 ft high so this is what I expected. But I had a big shock to see the Polish mine coal face towered above me at 7 metres high. Although this was better to work in, it was dangerous if you were hit on the head by a lump of coal falling so far from above.
The first day down a coal mine was one of the most frightening experiences of my life. We walked to the cage, along with German civilian workers. Before entering the cage, we were given a numbered disc to be handed in when we returned to the top of the pit after completing a shift. This was for safety reasons -- if your disc was not returned to the board, they knew something was wrong and sent the rescue team to look for you. Down we went in the cage and, on reaching the bottom, two German civilians took over. We lit our carbide lamps and began to walk down the dark corridors. All we could hear were squealing rats. It was really creepy. After walking for some time, we turned off the main corridor into smaller corridors which was the entrance to the coal face. I went into the actual coal face with a Polish forced-labour man. I realised this man was to mate me shovelling coal non-stop onto a conveyor. The two Germans in charge were working with us.
Conditions Down the Polish Mine
The air at the coal face was very hot. We worked virtually naked, with just a piece of cloth over our private parts, in boots and a helmet. One of the Germans timbered above our head, the other was in charge of blasting the coal down with dynamite. Our only rest was when they blasted the coal face down -- all 7 metres of it. Then we were back in shovelling until none was left. This went on every day for nearly 12 months until I could stand it no more. I kidded the Germans by pretending to throw a faint, dropping my shovel and dropping where I stood. Of course, I was carried out on a stretcher to a cool place which was all lit up. I could hear the Germans wondering what was wrong with me. After the fainting episode, I was put to work with an old German on the maintenance of the conveyor belts. I must say straight away, this old German was no Nazi. I learned that he had been a Prisoner of War in England during the Great War. We got on very well together and, by now, I understood the German language better, so we often talked about the Great War and his experiences. He told me how he came back to a country on its knees, with no work. Often, he would try to persuade me to stay in Germany after the war and live in his house with his family. Of course, he honestly thought Germany would win the war. At that time, they were winning. During the shift, he would say, "Are you hungry Englander?" Of course, my reply was always "Yes". Then, he would tell me to blow out my lamp and go to where his coat was hung on a lump of coal to get a sandwich from his pocket. "Don't let anyone catch you", he'd say. All civilians were frightened of the SS, even down the mines. Often, after your shift finished, there was trouble at the cage bottom and, as we all entered the cage, fights would break out between our lads and the civvies. Sometimes, you had to wait for the next empty cage to come down because they did not like us POWs getting in the cage before them. Many times they would phone the guards at the pit top and had us punished. Back at the Camp, this punishment consisted of the prisoner standing to attention for a solid hour with a guard stood watching you. If you relaxed for a second, you got a rifle butt in your back.
Another Near Scrape With Death
I have to tell you about one nasty experience I had. It was at the end of my shift and everyone was making their way to the pit bottom. I was the last one going down a corridor when, all of a sudden, I heard the sound of water gushing down the corridor from behind me. I began to panic and knew straightaway one of the dam walls had burst. The force of the water hit me and knocked me, and my light, straight down. Plunged into darkness, I managed to cling to a pit prop holding the coal up until the water subsided. I honestly thought it was my last day on earth. I should explain what made this happen. After the miners have exhausted all the coal on that particular face, they board up the entrance to it, leaving a hole for the pipe to go in. They then pump water and sand into the space to support the ground above and to stop subsidence. Unluckily, the dam broke letting the water flood into the corridor. Thankfully, the rescue team came looking for me.
Forced Labour on the Railway
During 1944, we were sent 50 miles towards the Russian front, to a place called Freudenthal which was located on a main railway line used for German troops going up to Russia. Trains were coming and going up to the front. German troop trains went through and sometimes parked in station sidings. Our job was to repair the lines that were blown up through the constant bombing caused by Britain and America. This havoc stopped the ammunition and troops getting to the front line. It went against the grain, but we had to do it or get a rough time from the guards who stood over us all the time. We were sometimes called out at night by a German guard shouting and bullying "Aufschtahen! Aufschtahen!" If you were slow, he would threaten to use his bayonet or a clout from his rifle butt. One particular day, we decided not to get out of our bunks because we were sick of them not feeding us properly. They got us up by stabbing the beds with their bayonets. One lad was taken to hospital with wounds to his legs. After getting out of bed, we were lined up for work and the commandant shouted "Step forward those who want to work". No-one moved. Then, the guards moved in threatening to stab us with their bayonets. They got us through the gates by belting us with their rifle butts. We could only take it so far -- they were well-armed.
Life went on. One day, whilst working near the station plate-laying, we saw a train pull into the sidings. They were goods wagons which had big sliding doors. These doors were opened to reveal a train load of women and children, all packed in like animals. The smell from the wagons was awful from the urine and human waste that dripped through the floors. They looked like they could have come from the Ukraine, after the German occupation, for forced labour in Germany. They must have travelled hundreds of miles without stopping. Sometimes troop trains used to pull in and you could hear the singing, "Deutschland, Deutschland uber alles", meaning "Germany, Germany over all". It was a victory song. One day, we dropped out tools and sang, "We're gonna hang the washing on the Seigried Line". Oh dear, that went down badly with our guards.
Part III of this story tells of our attempt to escape.
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