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April-May 1944 Soon after I had been returned to the cell at St. Omer, a flatbed dory drove up in front of the small building where we were confined and Whitworth and I were prodded aboard. A third U.S. airman was lying on the dory bed with visable severe injuries and in considerable pain. Two guards were on the dory in addition to the driver, one was in back with us. We headed down the road in a southeasterly direction. The German guard advised that our fellow prisoner was a survivor from a B24 crew. He had a number of external wounds and was moaning with pain and every time we hit a road bump he would scream and complain of his back. Utilizing my one year of college German and sign language, I finally convinced the guards and driver that the airman was very seriously injured and possibly had a back fracture and pleaded that they take him to a local hospital. They finally obliged and dropped him off at a small but rather attractive little hospital. Whitworth and I were taken onward to a Gestapo prison in Lille, France. I was suffering a bit myself but I was fortunate to get them to give consideration to the B24 crewman. At the end of the war and after liberation when I was brought to the rehabilitation and staging camp in France (Camp Lucky Strike), the airman who had suffered the injured back was standing at the gate to greet me. He said he had been there each day and had watched thousands of ex-prisoners enter the camp and he was praying I was still alive and that he would see me. He wanted to thank me for saving his life as it turned out that he actually had a broken back when he was thrown on the dory with Whitworth and myself and the French doctors told him that he might never have been able to walk again if he had been forced to continue the bumpy dory ride with us. Unfortunately, I mislaid his name and address and I have never had contact with him after that brief meeting at the entrance gate to Camp Lucky Strike. At Lille we were imprisoned in an ancient French civilian prison which had been taken over by the SS and Gestapo. The cells were below outside ground level and the building and cells were constructed of large stone blocks. A tortureous cot constructed with crosswize boards of alternating thickness and a single scrap of a blanket was the single piece of furniture provided. The only light was from the corridor through a small barred opening in the heavy cell door and through a small opening with bars looking out into a sunken courtyard. The only water provided was dumped daily into a former urinal container. A guard escorted us to a toilet when we repeatedly requested and if he felt like doing so. The prison was a "hell hole". On a smooth spot on the stone wall were a series of daily marks and a message from an airman held there for 27 days. I wondered what had happened to him and what I was to encounter. I attempted to talk out through the barred door opening to see if Whitworth was within hearing distance as I had seen him taken to a cell further down the hallway. The guard came and threatened me to silence. Later I was able to chat briefly with another prisoner who informed me that Whitworth was in the same cell block. By skidding the cot I could stand on it and view the courtyard through the small barred window. The guards would run the civilian and military prisoners around the courtyard perimeter each afternoon. A guard would whip them with a long whip if they stopped. Several German military prisoners were included and apparently imprisoned for going AWOL or disobeying military orders. One afternoon, one of the elderly civilian prisoners stumbled and collapsed and was left lying on the ground only to be removed on a cart, presumably dead, near nightfall. Daily food consisted of a slice of heavy bread and a cup of potato or green soup made from some vegetable greens. For the first time I began to really worry about what would be my eventual fate. My thoughts also focused upon possible escape but the prison was extremely secure with a locked cell door, a locked hallway door, and additional locked doors before reaching the outside. No doubt, it had proven itself for many years. However, after five days, a guard came to my cell door with a tray of food containing cheese and danish style pressed meat, bread and a cup of ersatz coffee. I was feeling buoyed in spirit until he announced that the reason for the special food was that this was to be my last day as they were going to shoot me later in the morning at 1100 hours since I was a spy! Later, they came and escorted Whitworth and two other prisoners plus myself to a loading yard near the entrance of the prison. We were lined up in front of a wall and told to face the wall. There were four soldiers with rifles standing in line behind us. I kept looking for chips in the wall in front of me, wondering how many others had stood there and whether we were actually to be executed. I still had my watch and 1100 hours passed and we were still standing, receiving an occasional prod with a rifle barrel. I finally turned around against their objection and took the stand that if they were going to shoot me, I would rather face them. One of the prisoners next to me was saying his last rites as I later learned he had been given the same story before bringing him out to stand in front of the wall. We were told that they were waiting for the Oberst (Colonel in command) to arrive and his final order for our execution. Finally the Oberst arrived and about the same time a flatbed dory with several men in coveralls with big POW letters on their back drove up. When it first arrived, not seeing the 'POW" letters, I assumed the dory had been summonded to haul away our bodies and that the coveralled men were laborers brought to handle the unpleasant duty. However, instead of shooting us, the guards prodded the four of us onto the dory with the men in coveralls and we headed for the Lille, France railway station. I guess the execution act by the guards was their way of obtaining some sadistic pleasure. Perhaps they thought they were actually going to execute us or perhaps it was the Oberst that was enjoying the threat. I never did learn why they gave me the special food serving as the others did not receive the same ration. It may have been the recognition of officer rank versus the enlisted rank of the others. As soon as I was on the dory, one of the men in coveralls with POW letters on his back spoke up and inquired, "Where you from Mac?". His name was Henry and he looked like 'Lil Henry' from the funny papers of the 30's with his head shaved and a protruding pot belly. He was from upstate New York but spoke with a Brooklyn accent. We later became friends and I learned that he had evaded capture when he was shot down several months before and had been with the European underground system supposedly in route for the Spanish border. The underground kept handing him along the chain but the Germans had broken the chain and he and the others with him on the dory had been captured individually. The escape system was established with each underground member delivering the evadee to a certain spot where he was met by his next underground contact. The Germans became very clever in periodically breaking into the organization and even sometimes passing a few further down the line to convey the impression that the underground chain was working properly. The railway station was crowded with people and at one point I thought I might break away and escape as we were down to two guards for about 12 of us and were spread single file for quite a distance, but the opportunity disappeared when additional guards quickly arrived. We were herded into a regular passenger car and I ended up sitting with Henry. He wanted to talk; he had been in solitary confinement for most of his time with the underground and was all keyed up, being able to talk English to someone. There was now a a full railway car of prisoners. We had several guards with an SS Captain (Hauptman)in command. Henry tried to whisper talk to me and the guards overheard and told us that it was forbidden for us to communicate. Henry would not give up and the SS Captain came back through the car and beat both of us rather severely with a short billy club. I had pretty much healed up during the preceding week and I now had a couple of new bruises and my back and shoulder pain was still with me. We reached Koblenz in the evening and just in time for an air raid. We were hustled down a stairway and grouped in a small cellar type room below the station with each of us straddle the one in front. The bombing was extremely heavy and some type of thermite bombs were dropped which seemed to burn through the cement over our heads and a couple of prisoners or civilians just a couple of bodies from me were badly burned and appeared dead when we were moved out after the raid. The bombing had been especially extensive of Koblenz and Aachen. I didn't see a pane of glass in any windows of the standing buildings. Yet the civilians had cleaned the streets and the debris was neatly piled within a few hours after the raid. We were taken onward to Frankfurt and a large interogation center known as Dulag Luft which was run by the Luftwaffe. The Luftwaffe had official jurisdiction over all allied aircrew prisoners. This was a very fortunate situation as the Luftwaffe held closer to the Geneva Convention in treatment of prisoners. However, Dulag Luft could be a rather rough experience since the Germans were trying all kinds of methods in attempt at breaking a prisoner down until he gave out valuable information. TO BE CONTINUED  |
