The Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders (Princess Louise's)

The Barge on The River Elbe © Tom Barker

"Tired eyes; sore thighs; no Allies; SS spies; French fries; who dies?"
H Marshall

The guards had vacated Stalag 4B Muhlberg during the night and left all nationalities that were held prisoner there to fend for themselves. On awaking that morning and discovering that fact, I began putting together only that which I would need for my survival.

Hammond who slept in the next bunk to me asked, "Why go now when the Allies will soon be here to release us?"
I argued that since the Russians were nearer to Berlin than the Allies, the manure could hit the fan should they not agree who was going to do what with it. My services to the Russians as a salt digger in some far off salt mine in Siberia would not be voluntary and it was the farthest thing from my mind. I had survived four years of misery and was not going to tempt fate by sitting here waiting for the Russians to arrive.

That very morning hundreds of us POW had witnessed the gruesome execution of one of the German guards who had been found drunk and hiding in a garden shed. The fracas was also witnessed by a Russian soldier on a horse. A woman, who, dressed in the Russian uniform with double bandoliers cris-crossing her body and a rifle slung round across her back wielding a whip in one hand, had charged into the camp and was now sitting on her horse silently to one side, watching the execution of the German. It was like watching a bad dream, but indeed I was elated that the backstud had been caught and got what he deserved since he had bludgeoned to death with a heavy wooden pick shaft many unarmed Russian POW and shot one of our chaps with a pistol. I had seen him shoot our mate and I had also seen him shoot other Russian POW who were taking potato peelings from a rubbish cart.

Every time he had been seen in the camp it was whispered, "Aye up, here's Blondie, who is going to die today?"

Having shot the Russian, Blondie then ordered the other Russians, who looked like skeletons covered with grimy unshaven skin wearing filthy gray rags, to load the body onto the rubbish cart and it was taken to the tip and burnt along with the rubbish.

Hammond, upon observing this execution of Blondie by the Russian POW, was very pale and suddenly asked, "Do you mind if I join you when you go?"

It was barbaric, but I had seen it before in Palestine where Arab bandits would come over the borders of Syria and take the head man or his entire family and hold them to ransom. The ransom was paid and the bandits took it and fled back over the border to Syria leaving behind the whole family with their throats cut.

However, to some of the POW, the killing of the Blondie guard by the Russian POW had indeed been a new experience, some had never even seen a dead man before, and to see a screaming man strung up like a pig then quartered and beheaded was indeed a bit much. Puking and pale most went back indoors.

Hammond and I went to the hut Sergeant and told him we were leaving. He said we were mad, because if we sat tight, the Allies would soon be here. But I argued that the British POW held by the Italians held the same view when Italy decided to capitulate. The Germans marched in and took over all the POW camps and shipped all POW to Germany. I was not about to make the same mistake, so Hammond and I left.

After a long hike we saw a river barge. After a while, and working our way behind the bushes and trees until we were abreast of the boat. We waited to see or hear if anyone was on the boat, then crept from the bushes and made for the barge in the river that was tied to the bank by a rope at the bow and one at the stern. The object of checking the barge was because we needed a rowboat to get across the Elbe. Looking at the water one could see leaves floating by at about walking pace and I suggested to Hammond that it was flowing too strong for us to swim. We could get swept down river, and if Russian soldiers were on the banks lower down we could be the unwilling participants of a duck shoot with us trying to duck the bullets being fired at us.

Looking at the water Hammond quaffed, "We are going to need more than just webbed feet to get across that lot!"

Having looked along the deck of the barge and seeing no rowboat, we decided to go back into the shelter of the bushes.

As we were leaving, a porthole on the side of the barge suddenly popped open and an American voice asked, "Hey bud, yu want some French fries?"

I was taken completely by surprise, having laid in the bushes and watched for so long the silence of the afternoon had revealed no sound from the barge so we assumed it was vacant.

On boarding the barge, we discovered two American soldiers who, like ourselves, had absconded from their POW camp.

One American said, "Don't worry bud, we got us a row boat at this other side all tied up and ready to go."
I noticed the other American soldier had a coal fire burning on the wooden floor of the barge. On this fire he had a frying pan that was full of potato chips and they were sizzling merrily in the boiling fat.

The other American, who had gone foraging in the other cabins of the barge, came back with a handfull of eggs and held them up chuckling, "Y'all want cackle berries?"

I was uneasy about four men being on this mouse trap and suggested one of us should stand guard at the port hole to make sure no Russians or indeed the S.S. crept up on us.

One American said, "We spotted you long before you got here bud, and if someone does show, we go over the side and get to the other bank fast."

I argued, "That water is running so fast you will be swept down river and will be a target for every Russian with a gun on the bank."

The American replied, "We got us a rowboat tied on the river side of this canoe. Have some fries, then we will go."

Later, making sure no one was about, the four of us began looking through the different portholes and we finally agreed it was time to move.

As we climbed down the side of the barge into the boat I asked, "Aren't you going to put out that fire? It will burn through the bottom and the barge will sink."

The American replied, "That's the general idea."

I asked, "To what end?"

The American replied, "When I am old and gray I can tell my grand kids I sank a Kraut boat during WW2."

We got into the rowboat and one American undid the rope and the boat immediately began to drift down river. But with one bloke rowing like a demon and three others with bits of wood paddling like mad to keep the boat pointing and indeed moving to the opposite bank, we made it. Finally, and I was surprised we had not been shot at from across the river, we managed to crawl up the bank and lay there panting for a while.

I said to Hammond, "Well, that is the first leg over with!"

He answered "What do you mean?"

I replied, "I don't think we need bother about being in a Russian salt mine anymore, but we are still in Injun territory and can be shot without warning."

One American suggested we stay together and I agreed, since we could meet up with German civilians who might want to lynch anyone connected with the terrific bombing they had been subjected to of late. One man alone might be an easy target to them, but a group might make them think twice and move on.

We then began the long trek to freedom. Well, it worked for me from 1943-45, when I changed identities with a RAF bloke called Tenny and my getting out of the camp was curtailed.