The Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders (Princess Louise's)

Kreigsgefangenen Lager Teltow
(Prisoner of War Camp Teltow)
© Tom Barker

"With staunch endurance, they stoically bear,
A pawky humour conceals their fear."
H Marshall

A lot of crestfallen faces reflected the thoughts of many, with a view to escaping, that we were going the wrong way. Once inside Germany, it was akin to a mouse falling into a water lavatory, for it only needed Hitler to pull the chain if he felt like it, and we would be history. Arguments and hot debates were tossed around amongst us that Hitler would not go to all the trouble of transporting us to Germany if he was going to kill us when we got there. He may just as well have had us shot where we stood. Then some barrack room lawyer pointed out that the Brits had quite a few German P.O.W. and two could play the 'shoot the Englander und shoot the Kraut' game.

Then some ex high school wallah got into the debate with, "I say you chaps, don't flatter yourselves, the jolly old Kraut has to send supplies to the Front on the Railways. So why have them return to Germany empty, when P.O.W. can be a useful asset to Kraut Farmers and the like? Old Hitler is not exactly the shiez kopf (s**t head) you think he is."

We had been in this swaying wooden box stacked together like so many tooth picks in a jar, listening to the seemingly never ending, "yackity yacking" of the iron wheels on the twin metal lines, when it suddenly altered to, "duddle de dum, duddle de dum" as the wagon wheels ran over points where the lines crossed.

The heavy wood of the wagon amplified every different sound the wheels made, as sometimes on a curve they would screech, and some wit would open one eye and warble from a dark corner of the wagon, "Huh! that reminds me of me weddin' night!" and would be joined immediately by another comedian with,
"Is yo' braggin', or just dreamin'?"

The reason we were packed so tightly together was, that we had some wounded in our wagon, as did other wagons. But the wounded were too weak and no one objected to them taking up space by lying down. The continual swaying of the wagons as they sped along the shining twin lines in the moonlight did nothing for the wounded, who would grimace when any shunting was done. Some blokes began to realize when they awoke in the morning, that they had friction sores on their skin, due to the ever moving wagons swaying from side to side on the rails. At night it was like being on Guard duty, as one sleeper, who had had four hours of kip, was awakened and had to stand up so that a mate could lie down to get some shuteye.

Some lads thought they were indeed lucky to get a place near the only open window in the wagon, but since there was no glass in the window, the wind blowing though it sometimes got a bit too fresh and too cold. Thankfully, the scenery moving past the window kept some minds from dwelling on the present, or what could be happening tomorrow.

No one could get out of the window because it was festooned with barbed wire. The lucky lads near the window however stopped hugging themselves with delight the next day. The first day was sunny so the blokes near the window had a panoramic view of the rolling sunlit country side, but as we travelled ever nearer to Germany, the weather tended to lean towards hailstones instead of the light warm Mediterranean rain. Indeed, one black night as we chuffed along at a fair rate of knots, a sudden flash of lightning illuminated all the interior of our swaying travelling budgie cage and some blokes cringed as a sudden clap of thunder almost burst our eardrums.

Most of us had not shaved recently and some had not had a chance to wash. This was not surprising, since we hardly had enough water to drink.

"S**t, tha' wuz close!" warbled a voice in the swaying dark interior of our wagon.

"Yu not kiddin', an' by the smell of it, yu aught ti use yer 'anky if yuz got no paper, an' chuck it oot the bluddy winder!"

Another voice suggested, "Chuck it 'igh, an' wi' a bit o' luck an' carried by the wind, that Kraut Guard sittin' on't next wagon roof will ger it smack in the gob!"

"Oh, Yummy!!!!" chortled another voice from the dark, "That'll cement his dentures in place, fer sure."

Another wit added, "Weern't do owt fer 'is teeth color tho', owd mate, not ti mention 'is breff." A ripple of laughter washed round this band of lads who even in adversity still kept their sense of humour.

Then a voice whispered, 'Wissaat?"

And in the gloom someone sighed and growled, "It's bleed'n' rain, yu pilluck."

Then as an after thought yelled, "Quick lads, pass yer mess tins ti the winder an' hod 'em through the wire ti catch a drink. No not that way yu pilluck, yer 'oddin' it upside dahn! All the soddin' watter will run off'n it, yu daft bugger!"

"Then it p****d down merrily from on high, and we all got a drink from the clouds. The blokes near the window got wet through, and sat shivering in their now-wet soaking shrouds.

One bloke who had suggested they swap places so everyone got a turn at the window when it was nice and sunny had got a sharp reprimand snarled at him. "Fust in and last aht mate, so shut yer cake 'ole!"

Now no one wanted to stand near the window where the cold heavy rain was gusting in on the wind. But our 'Sir Knight' at the window was now regretting his decision, because no one would move and he stood there shivering until he began to get sores and cracks on his lips due to the cold.

One of the lads got an old French overcoat, under protest from one of the other lads, who parted with it only when it was explained that it was for the good of all in this wagon. Further rain blowing into the wagon was thus curtailed, when the 'Frog' overcoat was hung over the barbed wire encrusted window. The rain now hit the coat and dripped onto the wooden floor inside the window then seeped down the nearest crack between the heavy wooden floor boards.

Since we had been searched, there was no way we could move the planking in the floor nor cut or bore a hole through it, so we had to sit there and ponder our fate.

I was half asleep when a bloke next to me nudged me fully awake. "Aye up mucker. Ah think we is free wheelin'." and I suddenly became fully awake. The heavy panting of the engine was gone and suddenly there was a clanging in the distance as the brakes were applied and wagons began the buffer dance.

The first wagon would hit the engine's buffers, then it was like a pack of falling dominoes as each wagon caught up to the one in front of it and butted it a few times, until the whole train finally came to a halt.

We could hear the engine panting at the head of the long train as if it was drinking in water like a broken winded horse sucking a straw poked into an almost empty lemonade bottle. Then suddenly the metal lever on our wagon door was disengaged and the doors slid open by a German Guard with a machine pistol at the ready

"Alles rous!" (Everybody out) screamed the Guard.

"Up yours s**t head! Don't get yer knickers in a twist!" snarled one of our lads, and the Guard poked him in the ribs with his machine pistol, and screamed again,

"Was ist den mit sie lose?" (What's wrong with you?)

The bloke grinned and warbled, "Drop yer gun an' yer knickers f**k face an' ah'l show yu!".

Bewildered by the smile and almost surrounded by the now grinning crowd of Tommies, the Guard didn't understand, but he thawed out and became less belligerent.

We had stopped at a place called Belgrade and we lined up in single file and were issued a ladle of thin potato soup into our mess tins from a container that was sitting on an old barn door that had been laid across two trestles to form a table.

Then, bundled back into our wagons, the doors slid shut and we groaned, because now we were in a different wagon and the roof had been leaking, so all the wooden floor was wet, but the same little window in the corner was wired over with rusty barbed wire. I also noticed our mate who had claimed the window seat in the last wagon we were in chose a spot in the opposite corner. And the bloke who owned the 'Frog' overcoat that had been commandeered to prevent the rain entering the wagon via the open window, was now bemoaning the loss of his, 'Frog keep me warm gear'.

We settled down to wait again and it seemed hours, before finally the train, without so much as a toot, moved about a hundred yards to the clanking of the coupling chains, then stopped again. We deduced that the rest of the wagons had been unlocked, so the occupants could now get out onto the platform and collect their soup. After about half an hour, the train gave a shrill whistle, then two minutes later the sound of all coupling chains could be heard grabbing in the slack and each wagon jerked in turn from the engine to the Guards van at the rear end of the train, as we again began to move to the moans of those laying injured, as they were jostled to and fro to the movement of the wagons.

After more stops in sidings, to allow other trains with a higher priority to pass, we finally got to Stammlager Luckenwald. At Luckenwald, we departed the Zug (train) and marched to a P.O.W. Camp, where we were all sorted, fingerprinted, photographed and finally sorted into work parties.

Any Naval or Air Force personnel were sent to special camps and were not allowed out. But Army personnel had to work, or they got no food.

We wandered aimlessly around this camp for a while and found out that it had a German Commandant and sentries or Guards. But the only time we saw them was on check parades. They were normally held once in the morning at about 8 a.m, and once about 6 p.m., and to coin a phrase, the rest of the day was ours.

"So, wot is yo doin' today Dicko?" came the question from a scruffy looking Liverpool bloke called Wright.

Dicko grinned and answered, "Hi Writey, as little as friggin' possible owd mate."

Just then a French bloke, dressed up like a Christmas tree and carrying a trombone in a black imitation, lizard skin case, waltzed past us, and Dicko piped up, "There's a Froggie brass band goin' to play us a selection of music today. Ah just read it on't notice board s'mornin'."

As we strolled nonchalantly round a corner we observed a rostrum with the whole band on it. There must have been thirty blokes gathered there and the bloke we had just seen was even now unpacking his trombone. A French bloke, on passing, paused and leaned against a wooden upright, while tapping out the ash from his favourite smoking pipe.

Having taken out a tobacco tin, he opened the lid and took out some dried daisy flower heads and stuffed some into the bowl of the pipe and lit the pipe. We were down wind and the stink was like when I had been running a lot in sand shoes and my socks had not been washed for a month.

I also noticed the German 'ferret' strolling round the compound and sometimes pausing near a group of P.O.W. having a discussion. It became obvious that he was listening to their conversation, until spotted by one of the group, who would turn and throw the Guard a mock kiss, the Guard would react by getting nasty, or go red as a beet and disappear.

Then to the accompaniment of some clapping, the 'Frog' Conductor appeared and ignored us lot, but waved one arm to some of his mates hanging out of one 'Frog' barracks windows.

One of our blokes turned to his mates and warbled, "'Ere! 'e looks like the bleed'n' Queen, waving ti aw the folk as she launches wun o' they Cunard White Star liners."

But the opening bars were magic and we sat enthralled, as the Band played, 'Light Cavalry' by Suppé.

Some days later, to our dismay, because we had got settled into a lazy life, a group of us were rounded up and put on a German civilian train to Stalag Three D Teltow, which was not far from the outskirts of Berlin.