Testimonies
Prisoner of War Camp
6 August 1942 - 12 September 1943
914879 Gunner Frank C. Unwin, Royal Artillery
Gunner Unwin was captured in June 1942 at Tobruk. In August he was disembarked at Brindisi, Italy and was sent by train together with 2,000 other prisoners to Campo PG 82 Laterina, arriving on 6 August.
Taken by surprise – captured!
Being a prisoner can never be a good thing, especially when you are a prisoner of war and know that you haven't committed any offence. Being taken prisoner brings with it a sense of shame, and I personally suffered a lot from this feeling. When in battle a soldier knows only too well that perhaps he will die and generally speaking accepts this, but what he fears even more is being very seriously wounded. One thing he never thinks about is that he might become a prisoner of war. My artillery regiment fought in Libya in 1940 and then in Greece and Crete in 1940 before being sent back to Libya towards the end of 1941. During this time we suffered defeat in quite a few battles but it always seemed possible that our luck would turn. Then in June 1942, after six months in the desert, our luck ran out and finished and at Tobruk most of the regiment was taken prisoner.
First thoughts after having been captured
The Army teaches a soldier that when he is captured it is his duty to try to escape. I was fully in agreement with this in theory, but when you are captured any thoughts of escaping are not uppermost in your mind. 30,000 men were taken prisoner at Tobruk: it was very difficult for the authorities to supply us all with food and water, especially when we were in Libya. Everyone was hungry and I became very weak. At that point I was in very low spirits.The only thing I could do at that time was try to learn the language, as I had realised that it would come in useful if I tried to escape. So I talked to the sentries or any Italian whenever I had the opportunity.
My arrival at Campo PG 82 Laterina
In August I arrived in Italy, disembarking at Brindisi, and a train brought 2,000 of us to Laterina. I believe that it was on 6 August that we arrived at the station in the dark. It would have been about two or three in the morning, and it was raining heavily. The officer in charge did not want us to march the few kilometres to the camp at that time of night, as it would have been only too easy for us to escape. So we were made to sit in a field under the rain until dawn. When we arrived at the camp we were all soaking wet and tired, but in no time we were soon installed in our new abode. The camp, surrounded by barbed wire, had previously been a huge vineyard but had contained few vines. However, the posts to which the vines had been tied were still in place. There was only one brick building, the kitchen. In another part of the camp there were a lot of tents. The first thing that took place was the roll call. This took up a lot of time. Then we were allocated to the tents, 18 men in each. Our first meal followed, and our life in Laterina began.
Organisation
At the start there were a lot of things to be sorted out. The hierarchy of command had to be set up. There were five officials, three doctors and two priests, one Catholic and one Protestant. These men however didn't have anything to do with the camp's administration. A South African Sergeant-major (R.S.M. Cockroft. AUTHOR'S NOTE) was the senior serviceman present, and he was chosen as camp leader. There was much work to be done and for every type of work a team of men was chosen - camp cleaners, cooks, barbers, men to dig the latrines etc. all these men received double rations. The normal daily ration consisted of 120 grammes bread, 120 grammes of pasta, and twice a week, a small portion of meat and on two other days a small piece of cheese. There was a large open space between the tents and the kitchen and this was used for the roll call every morning and afterwards was turned into a football pitch. The roll call was always very time consuming and when the sentries made a mistake they had to start again from scratch. It was very unpleasant when there had been a of of rain and we had to stand ankle-deep in mud. Often it was difficult to sleep at night. Up above the camp, in the village of Laterina, there were two clocks which chimed the hour. But one of them chimed perhaps two minutes before the other. If you woke up you heard 'dong, dong, dong,' and you asked yourself whether it was three o'clock, eleven or five. So you would think,' In a minute I'll hear it again. After five minutes the other clock would strike. Every night you heard each hour strike. Twice!! At night in order to make sure that the sentries weren't asleep, one would say to the next 'Sentry stay alert! Sentry stay alert! Sentry stay alert!' When one of them fell asleep the sentry before him would run the forty or fifty metres to his post shouting, 'Giovanni, sleepy-head, what are you doing? Wake up!'
The camp develops
After a while we began to construct some accommodation barracks. An Italian contractor was brought in together with some Italian workmen, but a lot of prisoners also took part. The Italians were the carpenters and electricians and the prisoners were the builders. Eleven barracks were built and I was in number 11. For this I had to wait a long time. There were 250 men in each barracks and a the end of each there was a wash-room and lavatory. The barracks were designed to have electric light and water, but there was neither. It became necessary to dig cesspits, and these were about ten metres long, a metre wide and one and a half metres in width. There were always two or three in use. When it became full another was dug out and the earth from the excavations was taken to fill the abandoned cesspit until such time as the infill had become compacted. I have to explain this procedure at this point because it becomes important in understanding what is to follow. Much later barracks no. 12 was built, and in it there was the barber's shop and a store. Another barracks was set aside for the officials and yet another for the Commander. Then there was a tent for concerts and shows. And so the camp grew.
A sort of normality
Eventually a sort of normality was established, and everyone passed the day according to his interests. Many men walked around the perimeter fence all day long. Others threw stones from one place to another a few metres away. Others played cards and a game could last for three or four days, day and night, lit by oil lamps. Football was the most popular pastime. The area used for the roll call made a perfect soccer pitch. With two teams drawn from each barracks, there was a First and Second Division. There were also some international matches – England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland and South Africa. For every international match there was a crowd of 2,000 men. The Italians, both ordinary soldiers and officials, wanted to watch the match and a stand was built specifically for them. The Italians gave us some wood to build the goalposts and and some South African fishermen made a beautiful net from the string that came with the Red Cross parcels. The concert tent served as a changing room. There were quite a few professional footballers and referees. Football was very popular and helped overcome the boredom of being in the camp. Every so often Red Cross parcels arrived from the United Kingdom and Canada, containing about five kilos of food and fifty cigarettes. Everyone was happy on the day they arrived. When there was very little food in the camp and we were hungry the conversation always centred around food, and when the food arrived the subject changed to women. The families back home were allowed to send us a parcel once every three months. This could only contain clothing, books and chocolate. In the first parcel my mother sent me there was a small dictionary and that was what I wanted more than anything else. I was slowly learning Italian and the dictionary came in very useful.
In Spring, a young man's thoughts...
Once winter was over, when the spring days began to get warmer, I started to think about escaping. A few prisoners had already escaped from Laterina but had all been recaptured after just a few hours. The camp was always well guarded and I thought that it would be easier to escape from a smaller work camp. Hence I volunteered to go. It was July and the weather was good. For a short time groups of prisoners were taken out of the camp to go for walks along the valley roads. It was most enjoyable simply being outside the wire, but more importantly, I were able to see what food was growing in the fields. Shortly afterwards I was sent to work at Borgo San Lorenzo near Florence. The work consisted of building a sugar beet factory. I worked alongside some Italians and was able to improve my Italian. There was an interpreter, Papini, a hard man who belonged to the Fascist Militia. After a few weeks he left the camp and there was no one left to act as interpreter. I was able to speak Italian better than any one else and so I became the interpreter. I didn't do any other work and so my opportunities for escaping increased.
The escape
The work camp at Borgo San Lorenzo had been built on the village playing field. It was surrounded by a high brick wall and the barbed wire was inside the football pitch. However, behind one of thee goals the barbed wire left the pitch and went directly onto the brick wall. In the two places where the barbed wire was attached to the wall it was easy to climb over the wire and pass over the wall. I had a lot of food from the Red Cross parcels – biscuits, chocolate, sultanas, salmon, boiled ham. I didn't want to go it alone, so I chose a companion. He seemed a good lad and courageous, and he too had a bit of food. The night we had set aside for our escape, our companions distracted the attention of the two entries and we climbed onto the wall. It was very exciting a lots happened during the night. At a certain point a voice called out, 'Halt', but under the cover of darkness we managed to get away . Perhaps he was more scared than we were. At dawn a man almost discovered the place where we were sleeping. During daylight hours we remained hidden. When it was almost dark my companion told me that he no longer wished to come with me. He thought we had made a big mistake and wanted to go back to the camp. He said his parents though he would be safe inside the camp until the end of the war, but now, perhaps tomorrow, he might be shot.
This took me by surprise but I wanted to carry on. He gave me his bag of food and wished me good luck. For a whole week I was on my own and spoke to no one. I felt very alone. I tried to walk through the hills, but it was very difficult at night and so became necessary to travel by day. When I cam across a deep narrow valley through which ran a road, river and railway I though I would walk along the latter. Along the road there was quite a large settlement. Towards nightfall I descended into the valley and along the railway there was a hedge. I sat down between the trees to smoke a cigarette. After a few minutes I heard someone walking. I immediately put out the cigarette and waited in silence. Two soldiers with a gun came on the scene and passed within two metres of me. After they had gone I realised that it would have been impossible to walk along the railway: without doubt I would have been recaptured when the soldiers paused to smoke a cigarette..
Recaptured and sent back to Laterina
So it was that I went ahead along the road. Unfortunately it was Sunday an all the inhabitants of the village were out having a walk. To start with it seemed that I would get away with it and I walked in amongst the crowd, but then someone recognised me as being a prisoner and after a few minutes several armed guards came along and arrested me. The next day I was taken to Borgo San Lorenzo and from there was sent by train to Laterina. Upon arrival there was a Court Marshal and I was condemned to thirty days imprisonment, ten in solitary confinement and the others in normal prison conditions. For ten consecutive nights the Carabinieri came after dark to put me in leg chains. The following morning they were taken off. Then during the day there was a roll call every two hours at the camp gates.
The tunnel
It came to my knowledge that there a tunnel was being built as a means of escape from the camp. A group of twenty five men were working on it and they asked me if I wanted to join them. The tunnel started in hut no. 6 and after three weeks' work was already half way towards the perimeter wire. I have already explained that the lavatories in the huts were not operative due to a lack of water. Under each lavatory there was a large cement cistern. The cistern wall had been broken though and another meter had of depth had been excavated after which the tunnel headed for the wire. Everything was very well organised. The wood that the builders had used to build hut no. 12 had been stolen as had a saw from an Italian workman. The wood was used to reinforce the tunnel roof and everything was made safe and secure. It was my job to dig the earth from the tunnel and drag it towards the cistern, from whence it was put in a wheelbarrow and taken to one of the disused cesspits. Some sentries had kept watch over this work for a year and everything had gone smoothly.
I worked for three weeks. It was heavy work and tiring, and having eaten very little food, hard. Another thing was difficult too, the fact that I had to report to the gate every two hours when I had been working underground, was covered with sweat and had soil on my face and clothes. The camp leader didn't look very favourably on what we were doing and refused to give us more food and oil for the lamp we were using in the tunnel.
There was a crisis when at last a new wash-room was opened with running water that meant an end to the cesspit latrines. We had to find another system for getting rid of the earth. We told the Italians that the football would be better if the pitch were to be levelled out and and we asked permission to do the work. This pleased the Italians and so we started to take all the soil to the football pitch and we raised its level by a few centimetres. After three weeks the tunnel was almost finished. We were very close to the wire, just a few metres from freedom. Everything was ready for the escape and we all knew what to do. First of all the tunnel crew were to leave, at an interval of a few minutes, then after an interval of about half an hour the tunnel would be open to everybody. At this point breathing was difficult in the front portion of the tunnel, and one evening three of us went out to get a breath of fresh air. I was standing on the ground above the tunnel and another was inside and whilst I banged on the ground with a brick he was digging towards the noise. There was another in the cistern making the connection between the two of us. It wasn't yet dark and I could see the people from Laterina taking their evening walk. Then a noise came from the village which became increasingly louder. After a bit this noise got even nearer, and arrived at the Italian quarters of the camp and then the sentries arrived. They shouted, 'The war is over!' and threw their rifles in the air. It was the 8th of September.
On the 12th of September, guards fled, Gunner Unwin and three others escaped. The Germans arrived on that date, and the recaptured men were sent by train to Germany. He lived between Montebenichi, Perelli and environs until May 1944, when he bad goodbye to those who had helped him and in the company of other escapers set off for the front line. He was unfortunately captured near Sinalunga and sent to Germany to Stalag XIA Altengrabow. Between 1967-1971 he was British Consul in Milan.
Translated from the Italian in Al di la del filo spinato p.141-8 by Janet Kinrade Dethick
Gunner Unwin was captured in June 1942 at Tobruk. In August he was disembarked at Brindisi, Italy and was sent by train together with 2,000 other prisoners to Campo PG 82 Laterina, arriving on 6 August.
Taken by surprise – captured!
Being a prisoner can never be a good thing, especially when you are a prisoner of war and know that you haven't committed any offence. Being taken prisoner brings with it a sense of shame, and I personally suffered a lot from this feeling. When in battle a soldier knows only too well that perhaps he will die and generally speaking accepts this, but what he fears even more is being very seriously wounded. One thing he never thinks about is that he might become a prisoner of war. My artillery regiment fought in Libya in 1940 and then in Greece and Crete in 1940 before being sent back to Libya towards the end of 1941. During this time we suffered defeat in quite a few battles but it always seemed possible that our luck would turn. Then in June 1942, after six months in the desert, our luck ran out and finished and at Tobruk most of the regiment was taken prisoner.
First thoughts after having been captured
The Army teaches a soldier that when he is captured it is his duty to try to escape. I was fully in agreement with this in theory, but when you are captured any thoughts of escaping are not uppermost in your mind. 30,000 men were taken prisoner at Tobruk: it was very difficult for the authorities to supply us all with food and water, especially when we were in Libya. Everyone was hungry and I became very weak. At that point I was in very low spirits.The only thing I could do at that time was try to learn the language, as I had realised that it would come in useful if I tried to escape. So I talked to the sentries or any Italian whenever I had the opportunity.
My arrival at Campo PG 82 Laterina
In August I arrived in Italy, disembarking at Brindisi, and a train brought 2,000 of us to Laterina. I believe that it was on 6 August that we arrived at the station in the dark. It would have been about two or three in the morning, and it was raining heavily. The officer in charge did not want us to march the few kilometres to the camp at that time of night, as it would have been only too easy for us to escape. So we were made to sit in a field under the rain until dawn. When we arrived at the camp we were all soaking wet and tired, but in no time we were soon installed in our new abode. The camp, surrounded by barbed wire, had previously been a huge vineyard but had contained few vines. However, the posts to which the vines had been tied were still in place. There was only one brick building, the kitchen. In another part of the camp there were a lot of tents. The first thing that took place was the roll call. This took up a lot of time. Then we were allocated to the tents, 18 men in each. Our first meal followed, and our life in Laterina began.
Organisation
At the start there were a lot of things to be sorted out. The hierarchy of command had to be set up. There were five officials, three doctors and two priests, one Catholic and one Protestant. These men however didn't have anything to do with the camp's administration. A South African Sergeant-major (R.S.M. Cockroft. AUTHOR'S NOTE) was the senior serviceman present, and he was chosen as camp leader. There was much work to be done and for every type of work a team of men was chosen - camp cleaners, cooks, barbers, men to dig the latrines etc. all these men received double rations. The normal daily ration consisted of 120 grammes bread, 120 grammes of pasta, and twice a week, a small portion of meat and on two other days a small piece of cheese. There was a large open space between the tents and the kitchen and this was used for the roll call every morning and afterwards was turned into a football pitch. The roll call was always very time consuming and when the sentries made a mistake they had to start again from scratch. It was very unpleasant when there had been a of of rain and we had to stand ankle-deep in mud. Often it was difficult to sleep at night. Up above the camp, in the village of Laterina, there were two clocks which chimed the hour. But one of them chimed perhaps two minutes before the other. If you woke up you heard 'dong, dong, dong,' and you asked yourself whether it was three o'clock, eleven or five. So you would think,' In a minute I'll hear it again. After five minutes the other clock would strike. Every night you heard each hour strike. Twice!! At night in order to make sure that the sentries weren't asleep, one would say to the next 'Sentry stay alert! Sentry stay alert! Sentry stay alert!' When one of them fell asleep the sentry before him would run the forty or fifty metres to his post shouting, 'Giovanni, sleepy-head, what are you doing? Wake up!'
The camp develops
After a while we began to construct some accommodation barracks. An Italian contractor was brought in together with some Italian workmen, but a lot of prisoners also took part. The Italians were the carpenters and electricians and the prisoners were the builders. Eleven barracks were built and I was in number 11. For this I had to wait a long time. There were 250 men in each barracks and a the end of each there was a wash-room and lavatory. The barracks were designed to have electric light and water, but there was neither. It became necessary to dig cesspits, and these were about ten metres long, a metre wide and one and a half metres in width. There were always two or three in use. When it became full another was dug out and the earth from the excavations was taken to fill the abandoned cesspit until such time as the infill had become compacted. I have to explain this procedure at this point because it becomes important in understanding what is to follow. Much later barracks no. 12 was built, and in it there was the barber's shop and a store. Another barracks was set aside for the officials and yet another for the Commander. Then there was a tent for concerts and shows. And so the camp grew.
A sort of normality
Eventually a sort of normality was established, and everyone passed the day according to his interests. Many men walked around the perimeter fence all day long. Others threw stones from one place to another a few metres away. Others played cards and a game could last for three or four days, day and night, lit by oil lamps. Football was the most popular pastime. The area used for the roll call made a perfect soccer pitch. With two teams drawn from each barracks, there was a First and Second Division. There were also some international matches – England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland and South Africa. For every international match there was a crowd of 2,000 men. The Italians, both ordinary soldiers and officials, wanted to watch the match and a stand was built specifically for them. The Italians gave us some wood to build the goalposts and and some South African fishermen made a beautiful net from the string that came with the Red Cross parcels. The concert tent served as a changing room. There were quite a few professional footballers and referees. Football was very popular and helped overcome the boredom of being in the camp. Every so often Red Cross parcels arrived from the United Kingdom and Canada, containing about five kilos of food and fifty cigarettes. Everyone was happy on the day they arrived. When there was very little food in the camp and we were hungry the conversation always centred around food, and when the food arrived the subject changed to women. The families back home were allowed to send us a parcel once every three months. This could only contain clothing, books and chocolate. In the first parcel my mother sent me there was a small dictionary and that was what I wanted more than anything else. I was slowly learning Italian and the dictionary came in very useful.
In Spring, a young man's thoughts...
Once winter was over, when the spring days began to get warmer, I started to think about escaping. A few prisoners had already escaped from Laterina but had all been recaptured after just a few hours. The camp was always well guarded and I thought that it would be easier to escape from a smaller work camp. Hence I volunteered to go. It was July and the weather was good. For a short time groups of prisoners were taken out of the camp to go for walks along the valley roads. It was most enjoyable simply being outside the wire, but more importantly, I were able to see what food was growing in the fields. Shortly afterwards I was sent to work at Borgo San Lorenzo near Florence. The work consisted of building a sugar beet factory. I worked alongside some Italians and was able to improve my Italian. There was an interpreter, Papini, a hard man who belonged to the Fascist Militia. After a few weeks he left the camp and there was no one left to act as interpreter. I was able to speak Italian better than any one else and so I became the interpreter. I didn't do any other work and so my opportunities for escaping increased.
The escape
The work camp at Borgo San Lorenzo had been built on the village playing field. It was surrounded by a high brick wall and the barbed wire was inside the football pitch. However, behind one of thee goals the barbed wire left the pitch and went directly onto the brick wall. In the two places where the barbed wire was attached to the wall it was easy to climb over the wire and pass over the wall. I had a lot of food from the Red Cross parcels – biscuits, chocolate, sultanas, salmon, boiled ham. I didn't want to go it alone, so I chose a companion. He seemed a good lad and courageous, and he too had a bit of food. The night we had set aside for our escape, our companions distracted the attention of the two entries and we climbed onto the wall. It was very exciting a lots happened during the night. At a certain point a voice called out, 'Halt', but under the cover of darkness we managed to get away . Perhaps he was more scared than we were. At dawn a man almost discovered the place where we were sleeping. During daylight hours we remained hidden. When it was almost dark my companion told me that he no longer wished to come with me. He thought we had made a big mistake and wanted to go back to the camp. He said his parents though he would be safe inside the camp until the end of the war, but now, perhaps tomorrow, he might be shot.
This took me by surprise but I wanted to carry on. He gave me his bag of food and wished me good luck. For a whole week I was on my own and spoke to no one. I felt very alone. I tried to walk through the hills, but it was very difficult at night and so became necessary to travel by day. When I cam across a deep narrow valley through which ran a road, river and railway I though I would walk along the latter. Along the road there was quite a large settlement. Towards nightfall I descended into the valley and along the railway there was a hedge. I sat down between the trees to smoke a cigarette. After a few minutes I heard someone walking. I immediately put out the cigarette and waited in silence. Two soldiers with a gun came on the scene and passed within two metres of me. After they had gone I realised that it would have been impossible to walk along the railway: without doubt I would have been recaptured when the soldiers paused to smoke a cigarette..
Recaptured and sent back to Laterina
So it was that I went ahead along the road. Unfortunately it was Sunday an all the inhabitants of the village were out having a walk. To start with it seemed that I would get away with it and I walked in amongst the crowd, but then someone recognised me as being a prisoner and after a few minutes several armed guards came along and arrested me. The next day I was taken to Borgo San Lorenzo and from there was sent by train to Laterina. Upon arrival there was a Court Marshal and I was condemned to thirty days imprisonment, ten in solitary confinement and the others in normal prison conditions. For ten consecutive nights the Carabinieri came after dark to put me in leg chains. The following morning they were taken off. Then during the day there was a roll call every two hours at the camp gates.
The tunnel
It came to my knowledge that there a tunnel was being built as a means of escape from the camp. A group of twenty five men were working on it and they asked me if I wanted to join them. The tunnel started in hut no. 6 and after three weeks' work was already half way towards the perimeter wire. I have already explained that the lavatories in the huts were not operative due to a lack of water. Under each lavatory there was a large cement cistern. The cistern wall had been broken though and another meter had of depth had been excavated after which the tunnel headed for the wire. Everything was very well organised. The wood that the builders had used to build hut no. 12 had been stolen as had a saw from an Italian workman. The wood was used to reinforce the tunnel roof and everything was made safe and secure. It was my job to dig the earth from the tunnel and drag it towards the cistern, from whence it was put in a wheelbarrow and taken to one of the disused cesspits. Some sentries had kept watch over this work for a year and everything had gone smoothly.
I worked for three weeks. It was heavy work and tiring, and having eaten very little food, hard. Another thing was difficult too, the fact that I had to report to the gate every two hours when I had been working underground, was covered with sweat and had soil on my face and clothes. The camp leader didn't look very favourably on what we were doing and refused to give us more food and oil for the lamp we were using in the tunnel.
There was a crisis when at last a new wash-room was opened with running water that meant an end to the cesspit latrines. We had to find another system for getting rid of the earth. We told the Italians that the football would be better if the pitch were to be levelled out and and we asked permission to do the work. This pleased the Italians and so we started to take all the soil to the football pitch and we raised its level by a few centimetres. After three weeks the tunnel was almost finished. We were very close to the wire, just a few metres from freedom. Everything was ready for the escape and we all knew what to do. First of all the tunnel crew were to leave, at an interval of a few minutes, then after an interval of about half an hour the tunnel would be open to everybody. At this point breathing was difficult in the front portion of the tunnel, and one evening three of us went out to get a breath of fresh air. I was standing on the ground above the tunnel and another was inside and whilst I banged on the ground with a brick he was digging towards the noise. There was another in the cistern making the connection between the two of us. It wasn't yet dark and I could see the people from Laterina taking their evening walk. Then a noise came from the village which became increasingly louder. After a bit this noise got even nearer, and arrived at the Italian quarters of the camp and then the sentries arrived. They shouted, 'The war is over!' and threw their rifles in the air. It was the 8th of September.
On the 12th of September, guards fled, Gunner Unwin and three others escaped. The Germans arrived on that date, and the recaptured men were sent by train to Germany. He lived between Montebenichi, Perelli and environs until May 1944, when he bad goodbye to those who had helped him and in the company of other escapers set off for the front line. He was unfortunately captured near Sinalunga and sent to Germany to Stalag XIA Altengrabow. Between 1967-1971 he was British Consul in Milan.
Translated from the Italian in Al di la del filo spinato p.141-8 by Janet Kinrade Dethick
Captain John Richardson 26 Battery, 4 Field Regiment, 2 New Zealand Division
An Overview of my father’s time in Campo 82 near Laterina, Italy by his daughter Bronwen Christianos
My father (Capt. John Richardson, Freddy troop, 26 Battery, 4 Field Regiment, 2 New Zealand Division) was involved in two major evacuations of troops in Greece in the early part of the war when the Allied troops were not doing very well. He suffered the loss of many of his men, which he obviously felt very keenly. A German army unit captured him in Libya in November 1941, as a result of a demeaning order from his superior, and he was sent to Italy, to the prison hospital in Bari. He was very badly wounded, and had completely lost his memory. In Bari he didn’t know who he was, where he had come from, and had no memory of any of the recent events connected with the war. After 10 months in Bari he was sent to Parma hospital. It was in Parma that he learned who he was from a visiting German officer. On being told that my father had no memory of who he was, this officer had taken note of his dog tag and looked up the German battle records. He discovered that my father was an officer defending Tempe Pass in Greece from the German offensive that eventually overran the tiny unit of 600 men. (This was against 17,000 German troops).
My father was in Parma hospital for about 7 months, when he was interrogated by the fascist police and told he was being court martialled for attacking the Colonel in Bari hospital (who was intending to amputate his leg with a tree saw and no anesthetic). His punishment was to be reduced in rank and sent off to an unknown camp. This camp turned out to be Campo 82, near the little town of Laterina. Despite all this he was contacted by the resistance while in the prison camps and obviously became active within the network. H Force was the name of this Intelligence Unit, and it covered underground operations in Italy, Greece, Albania, Yugoslavia and Crete. He refused to talk directly about any of this, but there were enough hints to intrigue.
The following is in my father’s own words, (with minor editing):
When I arrived I was put in a hut with some Medical officers. The Italians assured these officers that I was a New Zealand Captain according to my identity disc and paybook, (which they had). I was then informed that according to the regulations, I was now the senior Allied officer, as I was a fighting military officer and as such had precedence over the medical officers, regardless of their rank. This meant that the organisation camp was now my responsibility. This did not sink in until the next day when the interpreter Lt Bordoni conducted me to the camp where I met the regimental Sergeant-Major Cockroft, a very tall South African. I certainly did not look like an officer, with one useless arm, a disfigured face, my right leg and knee and both hands a mess. Furthermore I had no badges of rank nor any hat or boots and my shirt and slacks were old and blood stained.
My first sight of the camp was horrifying. There were hundreds of men, many of whom were lying on the ground. My military training of the past few years helped me to realise these despairing and demoralized men needed help and organisation. I began by ordering the men on the ground to get up, which received abusive responses. They were used to obeying officers dressed in proper uniforms. So forceful methods were then used to haul them up on their feet until these starving and rebellious men finally got the message. In a few days with the help of S/M Cockroft, who was a giant of a man, we got the whole camp, some 3000 men, sorted by regiments into lots of 100, and then broken down into sub units of 25, with the leaders of each unit reporting to Cocroft who reported to me.
There were all sorts of nationalities among the men in the camp. There were English, Scottish, Irish, Welsh, French, Slavs, Indians, South Africans (whites and coloured), and a few colonials. The French refused to acknowledge that I was an officer, and would not take orders from ‘the English pig’, so this was a stand off for a time. (According to the Swiss Legation Report of 8 October the nationalities present in the camp were as follows: British, Australian, New Zealand, South African, Rhodesian, Canadian and Greek. It is possible that the other nationalites referred to by Captain Richardson passed through the camp in the preceding month. According to document MS-1404 held in the Auckland War Memorial Mseum, Captain Richardson arrived in Laterina on 8 September 1942 and left on 24 October. AUTHOR'S NOTE.)
The Italian Colonel who was running the camp was not a bad sort. He had been a civilian in private life (Captain Richardson would have been suprised to know of his Silver Medal for Military Valour. AUTHOR'S NOTE) and had no idea of army discipline. He didn’t know how to deal with such a large number of men and was openly sympathetic to constructive suggestions. I told him that as a New Zealand officer I wasn’t going to stand for the conditions in the camp. This was stretching a point as my memory still had not returned and I didn’t remember anything about New Zealand. However I had heard much propaganda when I was in Bari and Parma hospitals about the 'barbaric New Zealanders and Australians', so aimed to capitalize on it. The first improvement we agreed on was to supply an extra ground sheet for the men. They were living out in the open day and night, with only one ground sheet and one ersatz blanket. To reinforce my point I abandoned the wooden quarters I had been given and slept out in the open with the troops. It was very cold at night. The men were not used to seeing an officer putting himself in the same conditions that they were in. Every man was eventually provided with a second ground sheet.
The next step was to get fuel and extra rations as the daily rations per prisoner was a bowl of watery macaroni and a small piece of bread, the size of a fist. Bordoni had told me there was plenty of food in the nearby countryside so every day a small group of men would go out into the nearby fields to forage. Most of the local men were away fighting Mussolini’s war so having extra men working to clean up the fields was of great help to the villagers. The men who went out (accompanied by a guard) could eat as much as they wanted of the produce, and were to bring back what they could for the pot. They brought back to the camp tomatoes, corn, herbs, walnuts, olives and firewood. Tobacco leaves were also occasionally obtained, and even cheese. One group of 50 men would go out in the morning, mainly to gather food, and another group would go out in the afternoon for fuel. I gave my parole that no-one would escape.
The French had initially refused to co-operate, so I asked the Italians to run a barbed wire fence across one end of the camp and put the French behind it. Instructions were issued that they were to be given none of the extra rations from the foraging. After two days a deputation came to see me. I refused to speak with them unless they saluted. There was a deadlock for a while, but eventually I got a salute and a stiff apology, so I ordered the wire down. There was never any trouble after that.
The medicos issued threats about dysentery and typhus, so we managed to get supplied with hundreds of old petrol cans and half a ton of soap, disinfectant and eventually razors. The cans were cut down to provide water containers, and we soon got fires going under them so the men could wash themselves and their clothes. The men had not only been starving but they had been unwashed and lice ridden for months. I insisted that the men shave every day. This did wonders for their morale.
I also managed to talk the Italian Colonel into letting me out of camp occasionally, assuring him that it was common practice to allow British officers out for a time in the evening. My interpreter Bordoni, would always accompany me. We travelled by cart and donkey, as I could not walk very far. The little village we went to was I believe Laterina. It was a very poor village with no modern amenities at all. In the middle of the village was a common well. When the locals were told I was not Tedesco (German), but an English officer, they made me welcome. I befriended some of the little children and was teaching them to sing Baa Baa Black Sheep in Italian (with the help of Bordoni). One day we were having great fun marching up and down the street singing with the children when an officer of the Fascist police drove up, brandishing his gun and threatening to shoot me for teaching Italian children English lies. Bordoni stretched the truth a little and elevated my rank to that of a British colonel. I told the Fascist policeman that he would have to have the written permission of Mussolini to shoot me. His bullying stance changed and he put away his pistol and pleaded for us to return to camp. I considered his request for a moment then agreed. Bordoni could hardly keep a straight face as I was handed over to the Italian colonel after being escorted back to camp. 'Oh my, that was a close one,' he whispered to me. Bordoni was married to an English girl and had spent some time in a bank in the UK. His punishment was to work in a prison camp, which he regarded as a big joke. It was during these trips to this village that the underground contacted me.
I was able to get messages through to the Red Cross about our conditions and after this the Red Cross parcels began to arrive. They contained wonders such as butter, Canadian biscuits, cheese, chocolate, tins of meat and tins of milk powder. There were tinsmiths in the camp who managed to convert the Red Cross tins into stufas,(stoves AUTHOR'S NOTE) which were placed on stones and used to cook up our extra rations. The first day when the parcels began to arrive there was some trouble as somebody stole one of the tins. So I lined up the whole camp and ordered a search. All the parcels were identical, and the men only had the clothing they were living in, so the culprit was quickly discovered and disciplined. A threat was issued that worse would happen to the next thief, and this was translated into every language.
The South African coloured men, who were the servants of the South African officers in the desert, were not used to being treated as human beings, and would do anything to help. They showed the camp how to weave grass, so the extra ground sheets became primitive sleeping bags. These men were also wonderful at foraging, finding berries and wood.
I used to inspect the Italian guards, and tear strips off them for dirty boots or undone buttons. Bordoni would look on impassively, trying hard not to laugh, saluting me and addressing me as 'Sir'. I would try and walk around the troops each day, although my leg was giving me a lot of pain. I sometimes heard the Italian guards referring to me as the devil, and they would cross themselves as I walked past. The French called me The English Captain with the Crooked Face.
To increase the water supply we persuaded the Italians to lay on drums and pipes from the nearby stream. The Italians are very good engineers, and the Italian Colonel was relieved to have his men doing something constructive.
The only other New Zealander in the camp was a Catholic priest, Father Sheely.(See October and November charts. AUTHOR'S NOTE) He had been in Rome, and knew Italian, so was a great help with dealing with the Italians. He embellished my status somewhat by telling the Italian officers that I was a Maori chief of some considerable importance. With his help we managed to get a shed of sorts to put the sick soldiers in, who had to cope without any medicines or bandages. Bandages were removed, boiled up with herbs and re-used. The doctors had no instruments so had to perform minor surgery with an army jackknife and a sharpened spoon.
We also organised a stage and held weekly seminars on any subject. These were drawn from a tin hat, and the subject could be on anything at all; medical care, sports, work of any kind, religion, Shakespeare plays. The only rule was that the speaker must have no interruptions, but could be asked questions at the end. We usually had an audience of about 500 men.
The camp became very organised. Every day there was work of some sort to keep the men occupied: grinding acorns between stones, making handles for tins, washing, food and fuel gathering etc. We even organised haircuts.
The Italians began to realise we were human beings and to go about their job in a more light hearted manner. The Italian officers became quite reasonable, whenever a firm stand was made on the Geneva Convention. They found it inconceivable that an officer would elect to sleep on the ground accepting the same miserable conditions as the troops.
One of the most extraordinary tales from this camp was that of a small stray pup that one of the men had picked up. In due course it was discovered that she was pregnant. Her progress was followed by 3000 adopted fathers, and every day a bulletin was posted on a board we managed to get the Italians to install. She eventually gave birth to 5 pups attended by our 5 doctors. The strangest thing was that our little duchess as we called her, would not step over the wire regardless of what inducements the Italian guards offered. Despite rations, many of the men would spare a spoonful to feed her. She was a great morale boost to the camp.
I learned from my contacts in the village that I was to be transferred to another camp. In December an Italian major arrived at the camp to escort me. (A document held in Auckland War Memorial Museum gives his date of leaving as being 24 October. AUTHOR'S NOTE) It was ridiculous really, as here I was in charge of this large camp, but my memory was still largely gone and I could remember nothing about the desert unless someone jogged my memory. My memories of New Zealand were vague visions of beaches and the sea, which had been triggered by my friend Hugh Mateer, an Irish artillery captain who had been next to me in both Bari and Parma hospitals. Hugh in civilian life had been a geography professor who had studied New Zealand as his PhD topic, so he would talk to me about New Zealand from this knowledge, although he had never visited. I had no memories of my family.
After being removed from Camp 82, I ended up being placed in Modena. (PG 47. AUTHOR'S NOTE) When I got there I collapsed from the strain of the past few months, and was for a time very ill.
After I left Camp 82 in December the Red Cross came in and supported the camp with clothing and food, so it continued in good order. I learned this from Father Sheely after the war. He told me that the winter snows were a great trial.
Captain John Richardson
From PG 47 Modena Captain Richardson was sent to Altamura Hospital then on 10/4/43 to Alexandria, Egypt, via Greece and Turkey on ‘the Gradisca’ Hospital ship. Affter having spent some time in Cairo, in May 1943 he returned to o New Zealand on the Dutch Hospital ship “Oranje”.
My father (Capt. John Richardson, Freddy troop, 26 Battery, 4 Field Regiment, 2 New Zealand Division) was involved in two major evacuations of troops in Greece in the early part of the war when the Allied troops were not doing very well. He suffered the loss of many of his men, which he obviously felt very keenly. A German army unit captured him in Libya in November 1941, as a result of a demeaning order from his superior, and he was sent to Italy, to the prison hospital in Bari. He was very badly wounded, and had completely lost his memory. In Bari he didn’t know who he was, where he had come from, and had no memory of any of the recent events connected with the war. After 10 months in Bari he was sent to Parma hospital. It was in Parma that he learned who he was from a visiting German officer. On being told that my father had no memory of who he was, this officer had taken note of his dog tag and looked up the German battle records. He discovered that my father was an officer defending Tempe Pass in Greece from the German offensive that eventually overran the tiny unit of 600 men. (This was against 17,000 German troops).
My father was in Parma hospital for about 7 months, when he was interrogated by the fascist police and told he was being court martialled for attacking the Colonel in Bari hospital (who was intending to amputate his leg with a tree saw and no anesthetic). His punishment was to be reduced in rank and sent off to an unknown camp. This camp turned out to be Campo 82, near the little town of Laterina. Despite all this he was contacted by the resistance while in the prison camps and obviously became active within the network. H Force was the name of this Intelligence Unit, and it covered underground operations in Italy, Greece, Albania, Yugoslavia and Crete. He refused to talk directly about any of this, but there were enough hints to intrigue.
The following is in my father’s own words, (with minor editing):
When I arrived I was put in a hut with some Medical officers. The Italians assured these officers that I was a New Zealand Captain according to my identity disc and paybook, (which they had). I was then informed that according to the regulations, I was now the senior Allied officer, as I was a fighting military officer and as such had precedence over the medical officers, regardless of their rank. This meant that the organisation camp was now my responsibility. This did not sink in until the next day when the interpreter Lt Bordoni conducted me to the camp where I met the regimental Sergeant-Major Cockroft, a very tall South African. I certainly did not look like an officer, with one useless arm, a disfigured face, my right leg and knee and both hands a mess. Furthermore I had no badges of rank nor any hat or boots and my shirt and slacks were old and blood stained.
My first sight of the camp was horrifying. There were hundreds of men, many of whom were lying on the ground. My military training of the past few years helped me to realise these despairing and demoralized men needed help and organisation. I began by ordering the men on the ground to get up, which received abusive responses. They were used to obeying officers dressed in proper uniforms. So forceful methods were then used to haul them up on their feet until these starving and rebellious men finally got the message. In a few days with the help of S/M Cockroft, who was a giant of a man, we got the whole camp, some 3000 men, sorted by regiments into lots of 100, and then broken down into sub units of 25, with the leaders of each unit reporting to Cocroft who reported to me.
There were all sorts of nationalities among the men in the camp. There were English, Scottish, Irish, Welsh, French, Slavs, Indians, South Africans (whites and coloured), and a few colonials. The French refused to acknowledge that I was an officer, and would not take orders from ‘the English pig’, so this was a stand off for a time. (According to the Swiss Legation Report of 8 October the nationalities present in the camp were as follows: British, Australian, New Zealand, South African, Rhodesian, Canadian and Greek. It is possible that the other nationalites referred to by Captain Richardson passed through the camp in the preceding month. According to document MS-1404 held in the Auckland War Memorial Mseum, Captain Richardson arrived in Laterina on 8 September 1942 and left on 24 October. AUTHOR'S NOTE.)
The Italian Colonel who was running the camp was not a bad sort. He had been a civilian in private life (Captain Richardson would have been suprised to know of his Silver Medal for Military Valour. AUTHOR'S NOTE) and had no idea of army discipline. He didn’t know how to deal with such a large number of men and was openly sympathetic to constructive suggestions. I told him that as a New Zealand officer I wasn’t going to stand for the conditions in the camp. This was stretching a point as my memory still had not returned and I didn’t remember anything about New Zealand. However I had heard much propaganda when I was in Bari and Parma hospitals about the 'barbaric New Zealanders and Australians', so aimed to capitalize on it. The first improvement we agreed on was to supply an extra ground sheet for the men. They were living out in the open day and night, with only one ground sheet and one ersatz blanket. To reinforce my point I abandoned the wooden quarters I had been given and slept out in the open with the troops. It was very cold at night. The men were not used to seeing an officer putting himself in the same conditions that they were in. Every man was eventually provided with a second ground sheet.
The next step was to get fuel and extra rations as the daily rations per prisoner was a bowl of watery macaroni and a small piece of bread, the size of a fist. Bordoni had told me there was plenty of food in the nearby countryside so every day a small group of men would go out into the nearby fields to forage. Most of the local men were away fighting Mussolini’s war so having extra men working to clean up the fields was of great help to the villagers. The men who went out (accompanied by a guard) could eat as much as they wanted of the produce, and were to bring back what they could for the pot. They brought back to the camp tomatoes, corn, herbs, walnuts, olives and firewood. Tobacco leaves were also occasionally obtained, and even cheese. One group of 50 men would go out in the morning, mainly to gather food, and another group would go out in the afternoon for fuel. I gave my parole that no-one would escape.
The French had initially refused to co-operate, so I asked the Italians to run a barbed wire fence across one end of the camp and put the French behind it. Instructions were issued that they were to be given none of the extra rations from the foraging. After two days a deputation came to see me. I refused to speak with them unless they saluted. There was a deadlock for a while, but eventually I got a salute and a stiff apology, so I ordered the wire down. There was never any trouble after that.
The medicos issued threats about dysentery and typhus, so we managed to get supplied with hundreds of old petrol cans and half a ton of soap, disinfectant and eventually razors. The cans were cut down to provide water containers, and we soon got fires going under them so the men could wash themselves and their clothes. The men had not only been starving but they had been unwashed and lice ridden for months. I insisted that the men shave every day. This did wonders for their morale.
I also managed to talk the Italian Colonel into letting me out of camp occasionally, assuring him that it was common practice to allow British officers out for a time in the evening. My interpreter Bordoni, would always accompany me. We travelled by cart and donkey, as I could not walk very far. The little village we went to was I believe Laterina. It was a very poor village with no modern amenities at all. In the middle of the village was a common well. When the locals were told I was not Tedesco (German), but an English officer, they made me welcome. I befriended some of the little children and was teaching them to sing Baa Baa Black Sheep in Italian (with the help of Bordoni). One day we were having great fun marching up and down the street singing with the children when an officer of the Fascist police drove up, brandishing his gun and threatening to shoot me for teaching Italian children English lies. Bordoni stretched the truth a little and elevated my rank to that of a British colonel. I told the Fascist policeman that he would have to have the written permission of Mussolini to shoot me. His bullying stance changed and he put away his pistol and pleaded for us to return to camp. I considered his request for a moment then agreed. Bordoni could hardly keep a straight face as I was handed over to the Italian colonel after being escorted back to camp. 'Oh my, that was a close one,' he whispered to me. Bordoni was married to an English girl and had spent some time in a bank in the UK. His punishment was to work in a prison camp, which he regarded as a big joke. It was during these trips to this village that the underground contacted me.
I was able to get messages through to the Red Cross about our conditions and after this the Red Cross parcels began to arrive. They contained wonders such as butter, Canadian biscuits, cheese, chocolate, tins of meat and tins of milk powder. There were tinsmiths in the camp who managed to convert the Red Cross tins into stufas,(stoves AUTHOR'S NOTE) which were placed on stones and used to cook up our extra rations. The first day when the parcels began to arrive there was some trouble as somebody stole one of the tins. So I lined up the whole camp and ordered a search. All the parcels were identical, and the men only had the clothing they were living in, so the culprit was quickly discovered and disciplined. A threat was issued that worse would happen to the next thief, and this was translated into every language.
The South African coloured men, who were the servants of the South African officers in the desert, were not used to being treated as human beings, and would do anything to help. They showed the camp how to weave grass, so the extra ground sheets became primitive sleeping bags. These men were also wonderful at foraging, finding berries and wood.
I used to inspect the Italian guards, and tear strips off them for dirty boots or undone buttons. Bordoni would look on impassively, trying hard not to laugh, saluting me and addressing me as 'Sir'. I would try and walk around the troops each day, although my leg was giving me a lot of pain. I sometimes heard the Italian guards referring to me as the devil, and they would cross themselves as I walked past. The French called me The English Captain with the Crooked Face.
To increase the water supply we persuaded the Italians to lay on drums and pipes from the nearby stream. The Italians are very good engineers, and the Italian Colonel was relieved to have his men doing something constructive.
The only other New Zealander in the camp was a Catholic priest, Father Sheely.(See October and November charts. AUTHOR'S NOTE) He had been in Rome, and knew Italian, so was a great help with dealing with the Italians. He embellished my status somewhat by telling the Italian officers that I was a Maori chief of some considerable importance. With his help we managed to get a shed of sorts to put the sick soldiers in, who had to cope without any medicines or bandages. Bandages were removed, boiled up with herbs and re-used. The doctors had no instruments so had to perform minor surgery with an army jackknife and a sharpened spoon.
We also organised a stage and held weekly seminars on any subject. These were drawn from a tin hat, and the subject could be on anything at all; medical care, sports, work of any kind, religion, Shakespeare plays. The only rule was that the speaker must have no interruptions, but could be asked questions at the end. We usually had an audience of about 500 men.
The camp became very organised. Every day there was work of some sort to keep the men occupied: grinding acorns between stones, making handles for tins, washing, food and fuel gathering etc. We even organised haircuts.
The Italians began to realise we were human beings and to go about their job in a more light hearted manner. The Italian officers became quite reasonable, whenever a firm stand was made on the Geneva Convention. They found it inconceivable that an officer would elect to sleep on the ground accepting the same miserable conditions as the troops.
One of the most extraordinary tales from this camp was that of a small stray pup that one of the men had picked up. In due course it was discovered that she was pregnant. Her progress was followed by 3000 adopted fathers, and every day a bulletin was posted on a board we managed to get the Italians to install. She eventually gave birth to 5 pups attended by our 5 doctors. The strangest thing was that our little duchess as we called her, would not step over the wire regardless of what inducements the Italian guards offered. Despite rations, many of the men would spare a spoonful to feed her. She was a great morale boost to the camp.
I learned from my contacts in the village that I was to be transferred to another camp. In December an Italian major arrived at the camp to escort me. (A document held in Auckland War Memorial Museum gives his date of leaving as being 24 October. AUTHOR'S NOTE) It was ridiculous really, as here I was in charge of this large camp, but my memory was still largely gone and I could remember nothing about the desert unless someone jogged my memory. My memories of New Zealand were vague visions of beaches and the sea, which had been triggered by my friend Hugh Mateer, an Irish artillery captain who had been next to me in both Bari and Parma hospitals. Hugh in civilian life had been a geography professor who had studied New Zealand as his PhD topic, so he would talk to me about New Zealand from this knowledge, although he had never visited. I had no memories of my family.
After being removed from Camp 82, I ended up being placed in Modena. (PG 47. AUTHOR'S NOTE) When I got there I collapsed from the strain of the past few months, and was for a time very ill.
After I left Camp 82 in December the Red Cross came in and supported the camp with clothing and food, so it continued in good order. I learned this from Father Sheely after the war. He told me that the winter snows were a great trial.
Captain John Richardson
From PG 47 Modena Captain Richardson was sent to Altamura Hospital then on 10/4/43 to Alexandria, Egypt, via Greece and Turkey on ‘the Gradisca’ Hospital ship. Affter having spent some time in Cairo, in May 1943 he returned to o New Zealand on the Dutch Hospital ship “Oranje”.
44446408 R.Q.M.S. James Percival, Durham Light Infantry
This statement is taken from R.Q.S.M.Percival's affidavit made on 18 June 1945 which was used as evidence in the trial of Col. Teodorico Citerni WO 235/147:
On 8 September, 1943 we got news of the Armistice and were told to take it easy. We were notified to remain until Allied representatives came. A number of men from the French Foreign Legion in another compound escaped and were fired on and this I saw and the Legionnaires running up the hillside. On Sunday the Italians ran away and our British Medical officers said we could please ourselves and I remained in the camp while others left. On Monday the Germans arrived and said they did not want to bother us or be bothered by us getting our of the camp. A 4 pm however they came down in two sections and took over. They started to move No. 2 compound on Thursday and and No1 on Friday, presumably for Germany. When we got to the station I went under the train with two others and escaped. I spent seven and a half months before getting through the Allied lines on 16 April .
On 8 September, 1943 we got news of the Armistice and were told to take it easy. We were notified to remain until Allied representatives came. A number of men from the French Foreign Legion in another compound escaped and were fired on and this I saw and the Legionnaires running up the hillside. On Sunday the Italians ran away and our British Medical officers said we could please ourselves and I remained in the camp while others left. On Monday the Germans arrived and said they did not want to bother us or be bothered by us getting our of the camp. A 4 pm however they came down in two sections and took over. They started to move No. 2 compound on Thursday and and No1 on Friday, presumably for Germany. When we got to the station I went under the train with two others and escaped. I spent seven and a half months before getting through the Allied lines on 16 April .
Corporal Pierre Dotrement, French Foreign Legion
Pierre Dotremont, former French Army Corporal who fought in the Gaullist or ''Free French' Foreign Legion, was declared missing between 18 and 19 January 1943 on the Libyan border.
Pierre was born October 4, 1919 in Bilsen in Belgium, in Limbourg (Flemish territory) and at 18, in 1937, had enlisted in the Foreign Legion, and had participated in the campaign of Algeria, Morocco and Tunisia.
Initially he had been taken to PG 66 Capua and was then moved further north: at first, to Camp PG 77 Pissignano. Finally, the transfer to Camp PG 82 Laterina, where, according to Pierre's version, at that time there were about 4,000 prisoners, all under Italian command.
He says:
'The Italian officials hardly ever came into the camp. They came once or twice, but for the normal things ...But Italian officers didn't in fact command anything, because there were five or six German officers and with them nothing was negotiable. They were 'special people' (in the bad sense of the word). In Laterina the Italian Commandant was hardly ever seen though he had to be good man ... I remember when it was the peach season he gave a peach every prisoner! It's nothing much, a peach ... but it meant a lot.
Everyone in the camp spoke of Indicatore: that once outside you had to reach Indicatore; when someone talked about escaping he knew he had to go west towards Indicatore because from there you could take a train.
Then we began to receive Red Cross parcels ... when the railway was functioning and our lads hadn't bombed it - all night long in the camp we ran a market...The tins had holes made in them, to prevent you from making a reserve with which to escape ... The sentries pierced the tins but a such a rate that a few remained intact. These tins without holes, given the market rate, cost much more than the tins with holes in them. We started to make friends with the Italian sentries ... In the Red Cross tins there was cocoa which was worth a lot, and they also were on the look-out for sugar, chocolate, butter ... the prisoners were after money because they wanted to escape, for this they needed money. In Laterina it was as good as it could be in a concentration camp ....
At the four corners of the camp there were armed sentries in watch towers and two rows of barbed wire about three metres high, well apart from each other, so much so that often the Germans patrolled between them with their dogs, and this made us laugh ... we used to say, ''Are they here to control us or the Italians?'' because they didn't exactly hit it off …
There was nothing to do in the camp other than buy and sell stuff and gossip ... rumours were rife ... after having swapped some tins for cigarettes with the sentries we would ask them how things were going, and they would reply, ''Not bad...the Americans are doing such and such...' This went along the grapevine and by the evening it would have become, ''You're not in the know, but the US military is twenty kilometres from here ...''
Pierre explained that the dreadful state of the camp's latrines gave him the chance to escape. On top of the cesspit the authorities had put a cement cover which would be opened every so often and the contents pumped out. But when such a large number of prisoners arrived in the camp it became necessary to insert a pipe into the pit. The pipe sloped down towards the Bregna, a tributary of the Arno which bordered the camp. When the contents of the cesspit arrived at a certain level they drained away naturally through the pipe, and when some Spanish members of the French Foreign Legion realised this, they said that all would-be escapers needed to do was to drop down into the cesspit and slither down the pipe. They did an experiment with a tin, a bit of grease and a match – making a sort of taper – to see if there was air or carbon dioxide in the tube . When they saw that the flame didn't go out, they gave it a try. The escapers made an arrangement with theh Spaniards, two of three of whom lifted the lid, they slid into the pipe and slipped down into the stream. After cleaning themselves up in the current they scrambled up the bank and made off in the direction of Via Santa Maria in Valle.
Pierre escaped on 17 July '43. He was really unlucky on that occasion. With his clothes tied in a bundle on his head, he slid down the sewer pipe, naked up to his waist in excrement, to where it joined the Bregna. He immersed himself in the stream, and as the current flowed past him he washed himself and began to climb the river bank, convinced he had made it to freedom. He was betrayed by the moonlight (the moon had just come up) and he was seen by an Italian guard from his look-out about eighty metres away. The guard opened fire with a sub-machine gun: it was a random shot, but it hit him.
'They shot me and the bullet went in here and came out here. Then I was taken away to the German field hospital, but they had no medicine to cure me, they lacked everything. Then they took me to the Civil hospital in Arezzo, to Professor Cocci."(Professor Giovanni Cocci was part of the Arezzo Anti-fascist underground network.)
Fortunately the bullet had not entered any of Pierre's vital organs. He was kept in hospital for as long as possible. After the Italian capitulation on 8 September it was occupied by the Germans:
'Then the Germans dismissed all the sick to make room for their wounded colleagues. They knew there was a prisoner in the hospital, so they came to see me. There were two or three German officers and the person who was in charge of hospital - a card carrying Fascist - and there was also the priest, who saw more eye to eye with the Fascists than with any one else. They began to chat; they asked me if I spoke German (I spoke German well), they asked me if I spoke Italian. I replied, ''I don't speak anything other than French''. So I was listening in to what they said, and I realized that they wanted to send me to Germany.
At this point I started to receive visits from an organisation: people started to visit me...they brought me cigarettes..and then two women came, for whom I have a great deal of respect, two women from a brothel in Arezzo. They brought me some civilian clothes, a few at a time, in readiness for my escape. (According to Italian researcher Enzo Gradassi it is possible that the two women were Nadia and Darinka, Yugoslav refugees who were associated with the Resistance. AUTHOR'S NOTE) After this they banned the visits, they put me in solitary confinement. In the beginning I had an Italian sentry, but after the 8 September the Italian sentries disappeared.
I was beginning to understand that they (the organisation that was helping him. AUTHOR'S NOTE) wanted me to escape because there was a man who came to visit the youngster in the next bed and through his conversation it was explained to me what I needed to do. In short, they got me out of this hospital and took me to the area around Bagnoro and Santa Firmina and then to Battifolle.'
Finally, Pierre left alone to walk towards the south until on 9 July 1944 he met up with a Canadian armoured regiment.(One of the three regiments attached to 1 Canadian Armoured Brigade. AUTHOR'S NOTE) He was transferred to England to London, and was discharged early in 1945. After the war he returned every year to Arezzo, visiting those who had helped him because he felt that he was 'a bit Tuscan and a bit Aretino (from Arezzo)', and thoughy highly of all those people who had who protected him.
Narrated by Pierre and his daughter Martine to Enzo Gradassi.
T/243963 Driver Henry Evans R.A.S.C., attd. 22 Armoured Brigade
Driver Henry Evans was captured at Tobruk on 20 June 1942. From PG82 Laterina he was sent to work camp PGDS 36 Castelluccio Bifolchi in the Val d'Orcia, Tuscany, an estate belonging to Italian nobleman Antonio Origo. Origo's wife, Anglo-American Iris Cutting, wrote a diary, 'War in the Val d'Orcia', in which she describes the arrival of the prisoners on the farm:
May 3rd
The prisoners of war have arrived ― fifty of them, all British, from the camp at Laterina, near Arezzo...Antonio met the men at Chianciano station, helped them to get their kit loaded into our ox-carts, and started them on their twenty-mile tramp to the castle. He soon discovered that the Italian officer (surname Bordoni – see testimony of Captain John Richardson AUTHOR'S NOTE) who is in charge of them is himself married to an Englishwoman, and is a bank-clerk who used to work in Threadneedle Street ― and one of the prisoners, a Guardsman, has a Maltese wife. By the time they reached the castle the most cordial relations were established, and on arrival the men were delighted with their quarters: two large rooms on the ground floor of the castle, giving on the court, another big room (once the stables), a dining-room, a kitchen and a wash-room, with twelve basins and two showers - all freshly whitewashed and perfectly clean, if primitive. The thick walls of the castle, with high, barred windows, are a sufficient safeguard against any attempts to escape ― and indeed, one of the prisoners, as he saw Antonio testing one of the bars with the carpenter, remarked humorously, 'If you're doing that for me, don't bother!' Beds for the prisoners (double-tiered with straw-filled sacks for mattresses) are provided by the Italian Army ― also the cooking utensils, and the prisoners' food. An Italian lieutenant is in charge, with a guard of ten men (mostly very small Sicilians), and the prisoners are represented by their corporal ― a stolid Yorkshireman named Trott, (4468229 Corporal R.G. Trott Durham Light Infantry. AUTHOR'S NOTE) gardener, we soon discovered, to the Earl of Durham! At the end of the evening he came to Antonio to express the men's appreciation of their quarters — and then, as Antonio asked whether they had any request to make, 'Well, sir, if we could have a bit of a field lit which to knock a ball about'. This can be managed, and also a bit of a kitchen-garden, for them to grow their own vegetables. Their rations as a working-party are better than those they had in camp — four hundred g. of bread a day, as opposed to two hundred, meat twice a week, etc. And they supplement their rations with magnificent Red Cross parcels (a five-kg. parcel a week for each prisoner) containing in each parcel a tin of butter, one of marmalade or treacle, cocoa, potted meat, dried beans or peas, bacon, fifty cigarettes and a cake of excellent soap — bounty at which we all gape. The fattore (farm manager AUTHOR'S NOTE) and keepers are much impressed by the men's discipline and the order in which they are keeping their quarters: the experiment has started well.
May 7th
I have now been up to the castle, having tactfully kept away for the first three days. The men had just finished their evening meal, after their day's work. I looked at their quarters and was shown the contents of one of their parcels, but only talked to the corporal and the cook. I found the first sight of them extremely moving, but do not think I showed it, said very little, and stayed only a few minutes. My best chance of being able to be of use to them is to be as inconspicuous as possible. The officer has already accepted, on their behalf, a parcel of books and some packs of cards (strictly speaking, forbidden, unless they have passed through the censor's office) and seems to be well-disposed. But any local gossip might make trouble. Most of the men were captured at Mersa Matruh, about a year ago...
From 'War in Val d'Orcia', Jonathan Cape, London 1947 p. 31
Henry Evans escaped at the Armistice and rejoined the Allied troops in June 1944.
May 3rd
The prisoners of war have arrived ― fifty of them, all British, from the camp at Laterina, near Arezzo...Antonio met the men at Chianciano station, helped them to get their kit loaded into our ox-carts, and started them on their twenty-mile tramp to the castle. He soon discovered that the Italian officer (surname Bordoni – see testimony of Captain John Richardson AUTHOR'S NOTE) who is in charge of them is himself married to an Englishwoman, and is a bank-clerk who used to work in Threadneedle Street ― and one of the prisoners, a Guardsman, has a Maltese wife. By the time they reached the castle the most cordial relations were established, and on arrival the men were delighted with their quarters: two large rooms on the ground floor of the castle, giving on the court, another big room (once the stables), a dining-room, a kitchen and a wash-room, with twelve basins and two showers - all freshly whitewashed and perfectly clean, if primitive. The thick walls of the castle, with high, barred windows, are a sufficient safeguard against any attempts to escape ― and indeed, one of the prisoners, as he saw Antonio testing one of the bars with the carpenter, remarked humorously, 'If you're doing that for me, don't bother!' Beds for the prisoners (double-tiered with straw-filled sacks for mattresses) are provided by the Italian Army ― also the cooking utensils, and the prisoners' food. An Italian lieutenant is in charge, with a guard of ten men (mostly very small Sicilians), and the prisoners are represented by their corporal ― a stolid Yorkshireman named Trott, (4468229 Corporal R.G. Trott Durham Light Infantry. AUTHOR'S NOTE) gardener, we soon discovered, to the Earl of Durham! At the end of the evening he came to Antonio to express the men's appreciation of their quarters — and then, as Antonio asked whether they had any request to make, 'Well, sir, if we could have a bit of a field lit which to knock a ball about'. This can be managed, and also a bit of a kitchen-garden, for them to grow their own vegetables. Their rations as a working-party are better than those they had in camp — four hundred g. of bread a day, as opposed to two hundred, meat twice a week, etc. And they supplement their rations with magnificent Red Cross parcels (a five-kg. parcel a week for each prisoner) containing in each parcel a tin of butter, one of marmalade or treacle, cocoa, potted meat, dried beans or peas, bacon, fifty cigarettes and a cake of excellent soap — bounty at which we all gape. The fattore (farm manager AUTHOR'S NOTE) and keepers are much impressed by the men's discipline and the order in which they are keeping their quarters: the experiment has started well.
May 7th
I have now been up to the castle, having tactfully kept away for the first three days. The men had just finished their evening meal, after their day's work. I looked at their quarters and was shown the contents of one of their parcels, but only talked to the corporal and the cook. I found the first sight of them extremely moving, but do not think I showed it, said very little, and stayed only a few minutes. My best chance of being able to be of use to them is to be as inconspicuous as possible. The officer has already accepted, on their behalf, a parcel of books and some packs of cards (strictly speaking, forbidden, unless they have passed through the censor's office) and seems to be well-disposed. But any local gossip might make trouble. Most of the men were captured at Mersa Matruh, about a year ago...
From 'War in Val d'Orcia', Jonathan Cape, London 1947 p. 31
Henry Evans escaped at the Armistice and rejoined the Allied troops in June 1944.
Men from 14 Company, Royal Army Service Corps
T/195949 Driver Leonard Steadman, RASC was held in PG 82 Laterina from August '42 until July '43, when he was sent to work in a plant nursery at Pistoia.
I escaped on September 8th 1943 from a working camp at Pistoia, Italy. The main camp being no. 82. The date 8th September being the armistice with Italy. I and the other POWs, about 50 altogether, walked through the gates. I was with Pte. John Hammond of the Hampshire Regiment, his number is not known to me, (6856714 – Author's note) his home address is (or was) Station Road, Rainham, Kent.
We were both free until 22 February 1944, being reaptured by Fascists while we were getting down to sleep, about mdnight, in a hut in the middle of a vineyard near Empoli. During our freedom we were fed by farmers on the lonely farms in the hills and mountains. Their names and addresses I have forgotten by now. We wouldn't take their names and address on paper in case fascists or the enemy caught and searched us. We used to stay a week at a farm and and a week or so at the next. Sleeping mostly in barns and haylofts.
After recapture he was sent to Stalag 7A Moosburg and from there to a work camp at Munich.
T/64606 Driver William Hagan, RASC
Driver Hagan was captured on 29 June 1942 at Mersa Matruh. He was held in PG 82 Laterina from 6 August 1942 until he was sent to a work camp at Taverne d'Arbia on 10 May 1943. Other men in his group at the work camp were Corporal Beveridge, Gunner Vallely, Private Bailey and Gunner Paxford.
On the declaration of the Armistice we were informed to stay where we were, but the Germans were in the area recapturing all POWs so I and a Gunner Paxford RA made out into the woods where we lived for a few days to see how things were going. We changed various items of clothing...I lived with a family called Andreoli of Taverne d'Arbia, Siena, Toscana until the fascists came again. I made out into the woods again with Paxford, the Fascists kept us on the run until we were eventually recaptured on the 7th January and taken to Germany. Countess Lovatelli, also of Taverne d'Arbia, gave us much in the way of boots and clothes and food, also sleeping accommodation. The items I changed were a watch I bought in 1942 in Alexandria and a gold ring also bought in Alexandria 1942.
Upon recapture he was held in Stalag IVB Mühlberg from 12 February 1944 until 23 April 1945.
T/238533 Driver W. H. Alden, RASC was captured on 28 June 1942 at Mersa Matruh. He arrived in PG 82 Laterina on 8 August where he remained until 17 September 1943. After a fortnight in IVB Mühlberg he was sent to work camp ME/31/E at Lutzen, which he left on 1 January 1944. His last months of captivity were spent in work camp REI/102/E at Halle/Saale.
T/195949 Driver Leonard Steadman, RASC was held in PG 82 Laterina from August '42 until July '43, when he was sent to work in a plant nursery at Pistoia.
I escaped on September 8th 1943 from a working camp at Pistoia, Italy. The main camp being no. 82. The date 8th September being the armistice with Italy. I and the other POWs, about 50 altogether, walked through the gates. I was with Pte. John Hammond of the Hampshire Regiment, his number is not known to me, (6856714 – Author's note) his home address is (or was) Station Road, Rainham, Kent.
We were both free until 22 February 1944, being reaptured by Fascists while we were getting down to sleep, about mdnight, in a hut in the middle of a vineyard near Empoli. During our freedom we were fed by farmers on the lonely farms in the hills and mountains. Their names and addresses I have forgotten by now. We wouldn't take their names and address on paper in case fascists or the enemy caught and searched us. We used to stay a week at a farm and and a week or so at the next. Sleeping mostly in barns and haylofts.
After recapture he was sent to Stalag 7A Moosburg and from there to a work camp at Munich.
T/64606 Driver William Hagan, RASC
Driver Hagan was captured on 29 June 1942 at Mersa Matruh. He was held in PG 82 Laterina from 6 August 1942 until he was sent to a work camp at Taverne d'Arbia on 10 May 1943. Other men in his group at the work camp were Corporal Beveridge, Gunner Vallely, Private Bailey and Gunner Paxford.
On the declaration of the Armistice we were informed to stay where we were, but the Germans were in the area recapturing all POWs so I and a Gunner Paxford RA made out into the woods where we lived for a few days to see how things were going. We changed various items of clothing...I lived with a family called Andreoli of Taverne d'Arbia, Siena, Toscana until the fascists came again. I made out into the woods again with Paxford, the Fascists kept us on the run until we were eventually recaptured on the 7th January and taken to Germany. Countess Lovatelli, also of Taverne d'Arbia, gave us much in the way of boots and clothes and food, also sleeping accommodation. The items I changed were a watch I bought in 1942 in Alexandria and a gold ring also bought in Alexandria 1942.
Upon recapture he was held in Stalag IVB Mühlberg from 12 February 1944 until 23 April 1945.
T/238533 Driver W. H. Alden, RASC was captured on 28 June 1942 at Mersa Matruh. He arrived in PG 82 Laterina on 8 August where he remained until 17 September 1943. After a fortnight in IVB Mühlberg he was sent to work camp ME/31/E at Lutzen, which he left on 1 January 1944. His last months of captivity were spent in work camp REI/102/E at Halle/Saale.
T/247579 Driver Henry Armitage RASC was taken prisoner on 29 June 1042 at El Darba. Transferred to Italy, he was held in PG 82 Laterina from August 1942 until the Armistice, after which he was sent to Stalag IVG Oschatz.
1104412 Gunner Charles Theobald, 97 Field Regiment, Royal Artillery
According to his Liberation Report, Gunner Charles Theobald, who had been captured on 28 June 1942 near Mersa Matruh, left Laterina on 10 April 1943 for La Foce. He also wrote:
After the Armistice in Italy I escaped with Gnr. Nelson and Kenneth Hart and was recaptured on April 30th 1944. I have no idea what happened to my companions When recaptured in Italy were interrogated by the SS and the Fascists because we had arms on our person. But they could not prove were rebels. While at a working camp in Italy we were treated very well by Marquis Origo at Siena. Also while we were free for eight months this man and his wife gave every help possible.
When captured Gunner Theobald was operating with the partisans, in a band originally led by Mauro Capecchi (battle name' Andreoli'). Originally sent to Stalag 7A Moosburg in Germany, from there In July 1944 he was transferred to a work camp at Munich where he remained until the Liberation on May 3rd 1945. He was employed in the clearing streets after bombing raids and also in work on bombed houses.
After the Armistice in Italy I escaped with Gnr. Nelson and Kenneth Hart and was recaptured on April 30th 1944. I have no idea what happened to my companions When recaptured in Italy were interrogated by the SS and the Fascists because we had arms on our person. But they could not prove were rebels. While at a working camp in Italy we were treated very well by Marquis Origo at Siena. Also while we were free for eight months this man and his wife gave every help possible.
When captured Gunner Theobald was operating with the partisans, in a band originally led by Mauro Capecchi (battle name' Andreoli'). Originally sent to Stalag 7A Moosburg in Germany, from there In July 1944 he was transferred to a work camp at Munich where he remained until the Liberation on May 3rd 1945. He was employed in the clearing streets after bombing raids and also in work on bombed houses.
SAP 196800 Corporal Andries Johannes de Bruyn de Jager
A Company, SA Police Battalion, 6th SA Infantry Brigade
Captured after the fall of Tobruk on 1 or 2 July 1942 after having almost reached Alexandria, and held firstly at Benghazi, Cpl. de Bruyn de Jager was shipped to Brindisi, and then entrained for PG 54 Fara in Sabina, where he arrived in August 1942. After about 6 months he was part of the contingent which was sent From PG 54 to Sardinia. Following the conclusion of the North Africa Campaign in May 1943 the prisoners were sent from Sardinia to Bonifacio in Corsica, they crossed the island to the port of Bastia where they were put on a ship for Livorno, finishing their journey to PG82 Laterina in trucks. On their arrival they discovered that some South African mine workers were busy with an escape plan burrowing a tunnel. (See Frank Unwin's testimony.) Finally Cpl. de Jager was sent on a work party to Castello di Brolio in Chianti where he found himself at the Armistice.
His granddaughter recalls:
...50 (were) taken on an open truck...and dropped off at a stone building on the hillside. The upper part was their living quarters, half of the building used for storage, and the other wing inhabited by civilian Italians. Guards only watched the entrance to the upper part and down onto the low back yard. The windows were covered with barbed wire. (They were sent a) few miles on foot through the hills, to dig a trench for new vines. Three days later at midday they abruptly got the order to go back to their camp, and were not allowed to leave. The guards and their lieutenant were uneasy. In the late afternoon ...the Italian lieutenant fled, and the guards didn't know what to do with the prisoners. By nightfall a resident came with the news "Pace! Pace!". Fires were lit on the surrounding hilltops. During the night about 5 prisoners escaped through a window... by sunrise the few guards left still don't want to let the prisoners go outside, (but) the prisoners try scaring the guards with talk, and some of the guards and prisoners walk out the gate in the confusion. Eventually the guards got so nervous that they let all the prisoners go past them and disappear into the woods.
Here some of them, including Cpl. de Bruyn de Jager joined up with the Monte Amiata group of partisans under British escaper Capt. H.S. Hood and Maj. Terrosi (Italian). As they were still behind enemy (German) lines, they hid in the hills around Castello di Brolio and Castello di Montalto. Some were caught, some were killed, some died of illness, and some even died from eating wild mushrooms the following year...quite harrowing when the German retreat was moving all around them. Some decided to take their chance and try to get through the German lines to reach the Allied forces, instead of fleeing further north. Cpl. de Bruyn de Jager was in a small group of these who reached the Allied forces in Siena on 4 July 1944. He took a bit of a detour home stopping at several field hospitals, but reached South Africa again on 7 Sept 1944.
His granddaughter recalls:
...50 (were) taken on an open truck...and dropped off at a stone building on the hillside. The upper part was their living quarters, half of the building used for storage, and the other wing inhabited by civilian Italians. Guards only watched the entrance to the upper part and down onto the low back yard. The windows were covered with barbed wire. (They were sent a) few miles on foot through the hills, to dig a trench for new vines. Three days later at midday they abruptly got the order to go back to their camp, and were not allowed to leave. The guards and their lieutenant were uneasy. In the late afternoon ...the Italian lieutenant fled, and the guards didn't know what to do with the prisoners. By nightfall a resident came with the news "Pace! Pace!". Fires were lit on the surrounding hilltops. During the night about 5 prisoners escaped through a window... by sunrise the few guards left still don't want to let the prisoners go outside, (but) the prisoners try scaring the guards with talk, and some of the guards and prisoners walk out the gate in the confusion. Eventually the guards got so nervous that they let all the prisoners go past them and disappear into the woods.
Here some of them, including Cpl. de Bruyn de Jager joined up with the Monte Amiata group of partisans under British escaper Capt. H.S. Hood and Maj. Terrosi (Italian). As they were still behind enemy (German) lines, they hid in the hills around Castello di Brolio and Castello di Montalto. Some were caught, some were killed, some died of illness, and some even died from eating wild mushrooms the following year...quite harrowing when the German retreat was moving all around them. Some decided to take their chance and try to get through the German lines to reach the Allied forces, instead of fleeing further north. Cpl. de Bruyn de Jager was in a small group of these who reached the Allied forces in Siena on 4 July 1944. He took a bit of a detour home stopping at several field hospitals, but reached South Africa again on 7 Sept 1944.
6093845 Corporal Leslie Henry Pyke, 1/6 Queen's Royal Regiment
5508847 Private F. P. Chandler, Hampshire Regiment
Cpl. Pyke was taken prisoner at Medina on 6 March 1943 and was sent to PG 82 Laterina where he arrived on 4 April. On 1 June he was transferred to work camp 82/XV at Borgo San Lorenzo, from where he escaped in the company of 5508847 Pte. F. P.
Chandler, Hampshire Regiment, on 11 September. His Escape and Evasion Report (WO 208 3345) indicates that on 11 September 1943 the Italian sentries deserted and the POWS, numbering about 400, all walked out. Pte. F. P. Chandler accompanied him to the British Lines.
From 13 September 1943 to 18 April 1944 Cpl. Pyke and Pte. Chandler stayed with two families at Borgo San Lorenzo. They then walked from there to Sulmona, via Arezzo, Perugia, Assisi and Norcia. (Whilst near Norcia they were helped by Tenente Sergio Forti of the band of patriots serving under Capitano Ernesto Melis, and appear on his list of Allied prisoners who had come into contact with the band. AUTHOR'S NOTE)
Cpl. Pyke and Pte. Chandler reached Sulmona about 28 May and stayed in the mountains near the town till they heard of the arrival of British troops, whom they joined on 10 June.
Chandler, Hampshire Regiment, on 11 September. His Escape and Evasion Report (WO 208 3345) indicates that on 11 September 1943 the Italian sentries deserted and the POWS, numbering about 400, all walked out. Pte. F. P. Chandler accompanied him to the British Lines.
From 13 September 1943 to 18 April 1944 Cpl. Pyke and Pte. Chandler stayed with two families at Borgo San Lorenzo. They then walked from there to Sulmona, via Arezzo, Perugia, Assisi and Norcia. (Whilst near Norcia they were helped by Tenente Sergio Forti of the band of patriots serving under Capitano Ernesto Melis, and appear on his list of Allied prisoners who had come into contact with the band. AUTHOR'S NOTE)
Cpl. Pyke and Pte. Chandler reached Sulmona about 28 May and stayed in the mountains near the town till they heard of the arrival of British troops, whom they joined on 10 June.
197086 Corporal Rudolph Henry Sonnekus, 2nd Battalion, South African Police
'The following account, based on his hand-written memoirs, was submitted by Cpl. Sonnekus' grandson. Cpl. Sonnekus was taken prisoner at Tobruk following the fall of the garrison on 21 June 1942.
Sonnekus was to spend the next six months being held in a POW Camp in the Libyan city of Derna before he was shipped over the Mediterranean Sea inside the hold of an Italian ship. Coming ashore in the Italian port city of Brindisi, Sonnekus like countless other Springboks before him, was transported the 118 kilometres up the Italian Adriatic coastline to the port city of Bari and the Campo Prigionieri di Guerra No. 75.
Campo P.G. No. 75 was a transit camp and Sonnekus records that the camp was so full upon his group's arrival there that they were held in an almond orchard in the rain and mud, a consequence of arriving in the middle of Italy’s winter of December 1942. After two weeks, Sonnekus records in his memoir that he was transferred to his permanent camp, Campo Prigionieri di Guerra No. 65, located between the towns of Gravina and Altamura, 53 kilometres west of Bari.
In the spring of 1943 Sonnekus was sent to work on a wheat farm in the Foggia district, approximately 140 kilometres north of the camp...With its everlasting boredom, no forcing was necessary, as most POWs fought for spots on these details just to get out of camp. Besides something to do, work details also received extra payment, Sonnekus mentions 1 Lire per day, and extra food, an important consideration. While working on the farm, Sonnekus became dreadfully ill with malaria and was unconscious or in a state of delirium for almost ten days. He was transferred back to the hospital at Campo No. 65, where he doctors administered the anti-malaria drug Atabrine to him. Unfortunately, Atabrine should be diluted in water prior to being injected, but Sonnekus’ doctors gave it to him neat, which almost killed him.
Because he was still recovering from his bout of malaria Sonnekus remained in camp at Gravina when his fellow prisoners began to be railed to other camps further north ahead of the Allied invasion of Sicily on 10 July 1943. He was thus able to witness first-hand the power of the Allied Airforce:
“One morning we woke up to what became known as the thousand bomber raid on Foggia. Wave upon wave of Liberators flew over the city all that day – dropping deadly bombs. I was told that 10,000 people died that day”.
Sonnekus’ source of information was remarkably accurate, for on 19 August 1943 the Allies launched seven waves of Heavy Bombers, consisting of 233 Liberator B-24 and B17 Flying Fortresses, against Foggia’s transport network and airfields causing 9,581 deaths amongst the city’s population.
Soon after this bombing Sonny was also transferred, his destination being Campo No. 82 at Laterina...This was to be his last Italian camp...(Following the Italian Armistice) Sonnekus was placed on a train and taken north to Kriegsgefangenen-Mannschafts-Stammlager IV-B, or simply Stalag IV-B, located 8 kilometres north-east of the town of Mühlberg in the Province of Saxony, just east of the Elbe river and about 48 kilometres north of Dresden.
Sonnekus was to spend the next six months being held in a POW Camp in the Libyan city of Derna before he was shipped over the Mediterranean Sea inside the hold of an Italian ship. Coming ashore in the Italian port city of Brindisi, Sonnekus like countless other Springboks before him, was transported the 118 kilometres up the Italian Adriatic coastline to the port city of Bari and the Campo Prigionieri di Guerra No. 75.
Campo P.G. No. 75 was a transit camp and Sonnekus records that the camp was so full upon his group's arrival there that they were held in an almond orchard in the rain and mud, a consequence of arriving in the middle of Italy’s winter of December 1942. After two weeks, Sonnekus records in his memoir that he was transferred to his permanent camp, Campo Prigionieri di Guerra No. 65, located between the towns of Gravina and Altamura, 53 kilometres west of Bari.
In the spring of 1943 Sonnekus was sent to work on a wheat farm in the Foggia district, approximately 140 kilometres north of the camp...With its everlasting boredom, no forcing was necessary, as most POWs fought for spots on these details just to get out of camp. Besides something to do, work details also received extra payment, Sonnekus mentions 1 Lire per day, and extra food, an important consideration. While working on the farm, Sonnekus became dreadfully ill with malaria and was unconscious or in a state of delirium for almost ten days. He was transferred back to the hospital at Campo No. 65, where he doctors administered the anti-malaria drug Atabrine to him. Unfortunately, Atabrine should be diluted in water prior to being injected, but Sonnekus’ doctors gave it to him neat, which almost killed him.
Because he was still recovering from his bout of malaria Sonnekus remained in camp at Gravina when his fellow prisoners began to be railed to other camps further north ahead of the Allied invasion of Sicily on 10 July 1943. He was thus able to witness first-hand the power of the Allied Airforce:
“One morning we woke up to what became known as the thousand bomber raid on Foggia. Wave upon wave of Liberators flew over the city all that day – dropping deadly bombs. I was told that 10,000 people died that day”.
Sonnekus’ source of information was remarkably accurate, for on 19 August 1943 the Allies launched seven waves of Heavy Bombers, consisting of 233 Liberator B-24 and B17 Flying Fortresses, against Foggia’s transport network and airfields causing 9,581 deaths amongst the city’s population.
Soon after this bombing Sonny was also transferred, his destination being Campo No. 82 at Laterina...This was to be his last Italian camp...(Following the Italian Armistice) Sonnekus was placed on a train and taken north to Kriegsgefangenen-Mannschafts-Stammlager IV-B, or simply Stalag IV-B, located 8 kilometres north-east of the town of Mühlberg in the Province of Saxony, just east of the Elbe river and about 48 kilometres north of Dresden.
Transit Camp - Dulag 132
12 September 1943 - June 1944
10863 Sergeant Solomon Saltiel, 50 Greek Infantry Division
Sgt. Saltiel's son Marty has written:
It appears that my father was captured around December 1941 in Albania and was sent to PG 95 Cairo Montenotte. From there he was sent to Bergamo (PG 62 AUTHOR'S NOTE) where he was on a labour detail. From there, he went with Greek officers, as an interpreter, to Poppi (PG 38 AUTHOR'S NOTE). He escaped several times living in the countryside hidden by the locals. He spoke fluent Italian and he said they were all like his family. His final escape was from the Gelli Hotel in Poppi where the owner Mrs. Gelli helped him escape when the Germans came to take possession of the POWs from the Italians (Nella Gelli who is in her 90s and the daughter of the owner was alive and well in Poppi in 2016). Later he and his friend Constantine boarded a train separately as civilians trying to head south. At a stop, those without papers were pulled off the train and taken to a gaol in Arezzo. My father tried to convince them he was an Italian who lost his papers but they thought he was a partisan. They beat him severely and told him they were going to kill him. He then tried to convince them he was a Greek POW, but they did not believe him. Finally his friend Constantine, who immediately had been identified as a Greek because he did not speak Italian, spoke up and vouched for my father. After some time they were both sent to Laterina where the story begins:
Arrival at the POW Camp in Laterina
The Germans came one day in a small car to pick us up from the Jail in Arezzo. They took us to a camp that was called Laterina. This was a camp almost like the one in Monte Cairo with the difference that the buildings were made of brick and concrete and had concrete floors. They gave us some straw to put on the floor and then we lay down to rest. Later they gave us blankets. We slept with a lot of people in one room huddled together so it was not so cold. The weather was starting to get warmer now as it was the end of March or the beginning of April 1944 and Easter was coming. We were all thinking how we could escape from there. My friend Constantine and I still had some money which was not good for much in the camp, but I was thinking maybe if we could escape then we could use it outside the camp.
Constantine wanted to smoke and I was hungry, so I gave one of the Italian workers that was coming into the camp to work half the money we had and he gave me two loaves of bread and half of a bag of tobacco. Now imagine, I could buy a whole farm for half the money I gave to the guy and I only got two loaves of bread which we kept for ourselves and the tobacco which we shared with the others in our group. To eat in Laterina, you had to have a receptacle of some kind to put your food in. The other prisoners were using old cans or whatever they could find. The Germans did not give us anything when we arrived. We did not have dishes or spoons or anything to eat with.
Every afternoon the Germans held a prisoner count in the yard. The leader of the prisoners was an American airman and when all of the prisoners had gathered for the count, he told everyone that two Greeks had just arrived in the camp. He told them that they had been treated badly, were in rough shape, and that everyone needed to pitch in to try to do what they could to help them. Everybody started to come to see us, especially a Greek American soldier by the name of Pandolis Geracapolis who was from Boston. They found an American steel helmet and they told us we could both eat from the helmet. We used to wash our clothes and shave in that helmet as well as wash ourselves. We carried that helmet everywhere and had it in our possession at all times because it was very valuable. It was everything for us. Without it you could not eat. Someone donated a spoon and another prisoner gave us a second spoon so we could both eat from the helmet.
One day it was our turn to get our share of the leftovers of extra food. Everyday after the men ate, whatever food was left was split among the prisoners. We took turns each day, with different prisoners getting their share when it was their turn. It was our turn that day and I did not have the helmet so I was yelling for Constantine to bring the helmet. He came running quickly thinking something was wrong and asking what was going on. I told him it was our turn to have leftovers so he put the helmet in front of the cook and the guy filled the helmet with food. We ate so much and we we shared with the others in our group too. Constantine was laughing hysterically like he was drunk and I said, 'What's the matter with you? What’s so funny?' With a big grin he said, 'I was shaving myself and you were calling me and I didn’t have time to wash out the helmet when I came running.' We had put the food inside the dirty helmet along with the soap and beard. We all started laughing and no one cared because we were so hungry.
We were so hungry there and we could eat anything since there were no Red Cross parcels. There was nothing but the soup that the Germans gave us which contained just a little bit of oats, some herbs, and onions. They called it soup but it was hot water with something inside that was just enough to keep us alive. During the daily counts, a lot of people fainted and fell to the ground because they were so weak from hunger. Then we had to help them stand up until the count was finished.
Things were getting really bad in Laterina, especially as we were all hungry and there was no real way to buy any food. We did not have enough money anyway. In the camp there were Russian workers who were deserters from the Eastern Front. The Germans had brought them to Italy to work for them and they were working in the bakery. They would trade some of the bread they made for the camp to prisoners for things like watches and rings. A lot of American prisoners were arriving in the camp from the front which was not too far away. The American boys were taking their gold rings and watches and trading them to the Russians for food. Everything they had, from the first day they arrived, they were giving up for a piece of bread to the Russians. So the Russians' fingers were full of rings and their arms were full of watches.
One day a prisoner stole a watch from a Russian. The Russian went to the American leader and complained. The prisoner who stole the watch was a negro from South Africa. So the camp leader asked the Russian if the watch was his and the Russian said he had traded bread for the watch. The leader asked the South African if he wanted to return the watch and he said no, so they decided to settle it with a boxing match. The prisoners made a ring to fight in and someone had a trumpet which they used to call everyone to watch. The Barracks were emptying out as it was announced that there was going to be a boxing match. The Russians picked a big husky guy to fight with the poor skinny guy from South Africa. Right away, Constantine went to complain to the American leader and said that it was not a fair match to have this little guy fight with the giant Russian. The leader said, 'Don't worry about that guy. He'll knock down that giant in a few minutes”. So they started the fight and at first the South African ran around the ring to make sure the giant got tired. He then started to punch the Russian, hitting him in the head, busting up his face and finally knocking him out. The Russians were furious and picked two or three more Russians to fight against the South African. Then the British stepped in and said that if they wanted to fight, it would be against them too. So the Russians backed off and the matter was settled. For us it was really like a modern day David and Goliath battle.
In Laterina, I was afraid they would find out that I was Jewish and they would take me to the concentration camp. I had a bad case of haemorrhoids and I didn’t have any way to keep myself clean or have any medicine. We didn’t have first aid, or a doctor or anything. I was not feeling well and I was lying down in the barracks. It was maybe the end of April and it was a hot day. Everybody else was lying outside on the ground completely naked soaking up the sun. Constantine came inside and told me to get up, 'I want to show you something', he said. 'Look around. What do you see?”, he said with a big grin. 'I don’t see anything but naked prisoners laying out in the sun”, I said. 'No, look closer”, he said. 'They are all circumcised, so you can’t say they are all Jewish” . We didn't know that in the United States every male was circumcised. I was a bit less anxious about being found out after that. I also saw that some of the Americans had a Star of David around their necks.
We continued to think about escaping and we had a group that hung out together. The group consisted of some British and South African POWs as well as a variety of other allied soldiers. There was Johnny Cox who was a Sergeant from London and Robert Douglas, Jimmy Gordon and George Attewell....Because we had the tobacco, a lot of people were coming around and being friendly with us. There was one man who hung around us and his name was Lido. He was from Malta. He was not a POW, but he was a civilian in the camp and I do not know why he was a prisoner there. There was another short man who was Jewish, but I did not find out until a year later in Germany. There were two more guys from South Africa whose names I do not remember, but one was a reporter the other was a sergeant who was husky and a very handsome guy. I think his name was George.
We did not have anything to do in the camp but talk about escaping and we are making plans here and there. One day we were talking about making a tunnel but decided that was not an option since we did not have any tools. Then, on a whim, Lido said, 'Look what I am going to do'. He went over by the kitchen. A German wooden cart, with rubber wheels, pulled up by the kitchen pulled by two horses. The cart was there to bring food for the kitchen. There was a place at the back of the cart where one or two people could sit. So when the cart was leaving, Lido jumped on the back of the cart and everybody was looking at him. We told everybody not to look because the Germans were in the towers looking at everything and would become suspicious if they saw us staring at Lido. The Germans thought Lido was an Italian Carpenter doing work in the camp. When the cart reached the main road we saw him jump from the cart and he was free. Nobody could believe he escaped so easily and so impulsively.
It appears that my father was captured around December 1941 in Albania and was sent to PG 95 Cairo Montenotte. From there he was sent to Bergamo (PG 62 AUTHOR'S NOTE) where he was on a labour detail. From there, he went with Greek officers, as an interpreter, to Poppi (PG 38 AUTHOR'S NOTE). He escaped several times living in the countryside hidden by the locals. He spoke fluent Italian and he said they were all like his family. His final escape was from the Gelli Hotel in Poppi where the owner Mrs. Gelli helped him escape when the Germans came to take possession of the POWs from the Italians (Nella Gelli who is in her 90s and the daughter of the owner was alive and well in Poppi in 2016). Later he and his friend Constantine boarded a train separately as civilians trying to head south. At a stop, those without papers were pulled off the train and taken to a gaol in Arezzo. My father tried to convince them he was an Italian who lost his papers but they thought he was a partisan. They beat him severely and told him they were going to kill him. He then tried to convince them he was a Greek POW, but they did not believe him. Finally his friend Constantine, who immediately had been identified as a Greek because he did not speak Italian, spoke up and vouched for my father. After some time they were both sent to Laterina where the story begins:
Arrival at the POW Camp in Laterina
The Germans came one day in a small car to pick us up from the Jail in Arezzo. They took us to a camp that was called Laterina. This was a camp almost like the one in Monte Cairo with the difference that the buildings were made of brick and concrete and had concrete floors. They gave us some straw to put on the floor and then we lay down to rest. Later they gave us blankets. We slept with a lot of people in one room huddled together so it was not so cold. The weather was starting to get warmer now as it was the end of March or the beginning of April 1944 and Easter was coming. We were all thinking how we could escape from there. My friend Constantine and I still had some money which was not good for much in the camp, but I was thinking maybe if we could escape then we could use it outside the camp.
Constantine wanted to smoke and I was hungry, so I gave one of the Italian workers that was coming into the camp to work half the money we had and he gave me two loaves of bread and half of a bag of tobacco. Now imagine, I could buy a whole farm for half the money I gave to the guy and I only got two loaves of bread which we kept for ourselves and the tobacco which we shared with the others in our group. To eat in Laterina, you had to have a receptacle of some kind to put your food in. The other prisoners were using old cans or whatever they could find. The Germans did not give us anything when we arrived. We did not have dishes or spoons or anything to eat with.
Every afternoon the Germans held a prisoner count in the yard. The leader of the prisoners was an American airman and when all of the prisoners had gathered for the count, he told everyone that two Greeks had just arrived in the camp. He told them that they had been treated badly, were in rough shape, and that everyone needed to pitch in to try to do what they could to help them. Everybody started to come to see us, especially a Greek American soldier by the name of Pandolis Geracapolis who was from Boston. They found an American steel helmet and they told us we could both eat from the helmet. We used to wash our clothes and shave in that helmet as well as wash ourselves. We carried that helmet everywhere and had it in our possession at all times because it was very valuable. It was everything for us. Without it you could not eat. Someone donated a spoon and another prisoner gave us a second spoon so we could both eat from the helmet.
One day it was our turn to get our share of the leftovers of extra food. Everyday after the men ate, whatever food was left was split among the prisoners. We took turns each day, with different prisoners getting their share when it was their turn. It was our turn that day and I did not have the helmet so I was yelling for Constantine to bring the helmet. He came running quickly thinking something was wrong and asking what was going on. I told him it was our turn to have leftovers so he put the helmet in front of the cook and the guy filled the helmet with food. We ate so much and we we shared with the others in our group too. Constantine was laughing hysterically like he was drunk and I said, 'What's the matter with you? What’s so funny?' With a big grin he said, 'I was shaving myself and you were calling me and I didn’t have time to wash out the helmet when I came running.' We had put the food inside the dirty helmet along with the soap and beard. We all started laughing and no one cared because we were so hungry.
We were so hungry there and we could eat anything since there were no Red Cross parcels. There was nothing but the soup that the Germans gave us which contained just a little bit of oats, some herbs, and onions. They called it soup but it was hot water with something inside that was just enough to keep us alive. During the daily counts, a lot of people fainted and fell to the ground because they were so weak from hunger. Then we had to help them stand up until the count was finished.
Things were getting really bad in Laterina, especially as we were all hungry and there was no real way to buy any food. We did not have enough money anyway. In the camp there were Russian workers who were deserters from the Eastern Front. The Germans had brought them to Italy to work for them and they were working in the bakery. They would trade some of the bread they made for the camp to prisoners for things like watches and rings. A lot of American prisoners were arriving in the camp from the front which was not too far away. The American boys were taking their gold rings and watches and trading them to the Russians for food. Everything they had, from the first day they arrived, they were giving up for a piece of bread to the Russians. So the Russians' fingers were full of rings and their arms were full of watches.
One day a prisoner stole a watch from a Russian. The Russian went to the American leader and complained. The prisoner who stole the watch was a negro from South Africa. So the camp leader asked the Russian if the watch was his and the Russian said he had traded bread for the watch. The leader asked the South African if he wanted to return the watch and he said no, so they decided to settle it with a boxing match. The prisoners made a ring to fight in and someone had a trumpet which they used to call everyone to watch. The Barracks were emptying out as it was announced that there was going to be a boxing match. The Russians picked a big husky guy to fight with the poor skinny guy from South Africa. Right away, Constantine went to complain to the American leader and said that it was not a fair match to have this little guy fight with the giant Russian. The leader said, 'Don't worry about that guy. He'll knock down that giant in a few minutes”. So they started the fight and at first the South African ran around the ring to make sure the giant got tired. He then started to punch the Russian, hitting him in the head, busting up his face and finally knocking him out. The Russians were furious and picked two or three more Russians to fight against the South African. Then the British stepped in and said that if they wanted to fight, it would be against them too. So the Russians backed off and the matter was settled. For us it was really like a modern day David and Goliath battle.
In Laterina, I was afraid they would find out that I was Jewish and they would take me to the concentration camp. I had a bad case of haemorrhoids and I didn’t have any way to keep myself clean or have any medicine. We didn’t have first aid, or a doctor or anything. I was not feeling well and I was lying down in the barracks. It was maybe the end of April and it was a hot day. Everybody else was lying outside on the ground completely naked soaking up the sun. Constantine came inside and told me to get up, 'I want to show you something', he said. 'Look around. What do you see?”, he said with a big grin. 'I don’t see anything but naked prisoners laying out in the sun”, I said. 'No, look closer”, he said. 'They are all circumcised, so you can’t say they are all Jewish” . We didn't know that in the United States every male was circumcised. I was a bit less anxious about being found out after that. I also saw that some of the Americans had a Star of David around their necks.
We continued to think about escaping and we had a group that hung out together. The group consisted of some British and South African POWs as well as a variety of other allied soldiers. There was Johnny Cox who was a Sergeant from London and Robert Douglas, Jimmy Gordon and George Attewell....Because we had the tobacco, a lot of people were coming around and being friendly with us. There was one man who hung around us and his name was Lido. He was from Malta. He was not a POW, but he was a civilian in the camp and I do not know why he was a prisoner there. There was another short man who was Jewish, but I did not find out until a year later in Germany. There were two more guys from South Africa whose names I do not remember, but one was a reporter the other was a sergeant who was husky and a very handsome guy. I think his name was George.
We did not have anything to do in the camp but talk about escaping and we are making plans here and there. One day we were talking about making a tunnel but decided that was not an option since we did not have any tools. Then, on a whim, Lido said, 'Look what I am going to do'. He went over by the kitchen. A German wooden cart, with rubber wheels, pulled up by the kitchen pulled by two horses. The cart was there to bring food for the kitchen. There was a place at the back of the cart where one or two people could sit. So when the cart was leaving, Lido jumped on the back of the cart and everybody was looking at him. We told everybody not to look because the Germans were in the towers looking at everything and would become suspicious if they saw us staring at Lido. The Germans thought Lido was an Italian Carpenter doing work in the camp. When the cart reached the main road we saw him jump from the cart and he was free. Nobody could believe he escaped so easily and so impulsively.
A Desperate Escape Attempt at the Wire. Easter 1944
A couple of days later, around Easter, the South African sergeant, who I think was named George, said to us, 'I have an idea. I tested the poles holding up the barbed wire fence and because of the wet weather the poles are loose. If we gang up five or six people on each pole we can knock the poles down and escape. If we wait until evening, our chances will be better because maybe the Germans will be drunk or asleep and not paying attention”. Right away I told him it would not work.” A few people may escape, but the others will get killed”, I said. 'Sooner or later the Germans will see us escaping and then they will open up with the machine guns on us and a lot of people will get killed”.
'There was no way to stop George. He wanted to go. A lot of people followed him but Constantine, Pandolis (the Greek American POW from Boston) and I said this is crazy. But Johnny Cox and some of the other boys followed him.
They went up to the barbed wire and they were walking around like they were exercising and then they stopped. About 5 to 6 prisoners gathered around each pole and started to pull the pole down. They were trying to get through to the second line of the fence, but the Germans discovered them and started to shoot them with machine guns from the towers. The prisoners retreated back to the latrines which were built from concrete and brick.
They went inside and were trying to decide what to do next. They made another attempt to escape but they couldn't get through. There were two to three injuries and I think George the Sergeant, a handsome fellow, was shot in the back and killed. This meant that he had made it outside the wire. (See next page). We in the barracks lay flat on the ground to avoid the machine gun fire which was coming from all directions. Then they brought the dogs inside so everyone locked themselves in their barracks. We had an official funeral for the Sergeant the next day and we buried him in the cemetery at Laterina. When we had the funeral, the English said, 'We will remember you.', and they vowed to continue to attempt to escape. This is when they decided to make a tunnel.
The Tunnel in Laterina (See Sgt. George Cross R.A.F. on previous page. NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH THE TUNNEL MADE IN AUGUST-SEPTEMBER 1943)
The plan was to build a tunnel in barracks number 12 which was near the barbed wire. I was becoming friendly with the Italians and I had some money left with which I bought picks and shovels from them. The South Africans were very good in the tunnels because they had experience working in the gold mines.
Under a bed they cut the cement with a chisel and they took a whole piece of round cement from the floor and they started to dig. They made a square room about four foot square. In the meantime, the Germans received a complaint from the Red Cross about us sleeping on the concrete floor so they started to bring bunk beds and they gave us mattresses with straw inside. They were burning the old straw and putting new straw inside. We burned the new straw along with the old straw so that we could put all of the dirt in the mattresses that we were extracting from the tunnel. Initially we only dug in the tunnel at night. Later on we dug both day and night. The Germans had placed two guards with a dog to patrol the five to six foot space between the two wires after the previous escape attempt. We were continuously digging and the Italians brought us more tools.
I was working too. Constantine thought it was too dangerous and he did not work in the tunnel. He wanted to survive and make it back home because he had a mother, sister and fiancée waiting for him. I started to dig in the tunnel and I think my number was 27. The kitchen people had to have our numbers so that we could get double rations on the day that we worked in the tunnel so that we would have the strength to dig. In the meantime, some prisoners were breaking up the beds and taking the wood to make walls to hold the sides of the tunnel up. When the tunnel was expanded there was not enough air and we had to make an air pump. They made a bellows pump somehow with some cloth. We were working for many days almost to the end of May or the beginning of June. As the tunnel neared completion, the the participating POWs with numbers would come to sleep in barracks number 12, bringing all of their possessions just in case we received the order to go. The situation was getting uncontrollable with everyone crammed into the barracks and they said that Thursday night they would open the tunnel for the escape. A short distance from the fence, where the tunnel would open, there was a dried up river bed surrounded by high wheat fields. The plan was to escape before the wheat was harvested so we had cover for the escape.
On the Thursday night before the planned escape, Constantine and I hugged and kissed and said our goodbyes. I told him that if he did not see me again to tell my my family, when he returned to Greece, that he saw me alive on the day of the escape. That night when they were preparing to open the tunnel they heard the German guards patrolling and they realized that had to make the tunnel longer. They worked three more days. In the meantime every night the prisoners that were going to escape gathered in barracks 12 which made the barracks leader nervous. If the Germans made a surprise inspection, they would find the barracks full of people sleeping everywhere with all of their possessions and they would know something was up. Finally, they decided that Sunday night they would open the tunnel for the escape.
In the meantime new prisoners were arriving in the camp and they were telling the others that the allies were near. We thought if we could just make it out to the cover of the wheat fields it would be easy to hook up with the allies. The Americans were tired of war and did not want to risk escape. It was those of us who had been prisoners for a long time that wanted to escape. Those of us that escaped the camps before and had tasted freedom were hungry to be free again.
About this time, on Friday, there was a fight in the kitchen. There was a helper in the kitchen who was from Belgium. He was mad because he received a high number, around 80, to get out of the tunnel. He became angry and the next day he told the Germans that the prisoners had built a tunnel under barracks 12 and were going to escape.
The Germans entered barracks 12 and searched everywhere finding nothing. The Belgian could not speak German very well and he could not explain well. The Germans brought in the SS and they started to tear everything out and then they discovered the mattresses filled with dirt. They found the tunnel, removed the cement cover, and went inside. After a while they emerged. They were visibly impressed and said that this was not a tunnel but a work of art. Then the Germans started to dig from the exit of the tunnel. It turned out that when we thought we were between the wires on Thursday, we were actually five feet beyond the outermost wire. What a mistake we had made! Had we we stopped digging Thursday and opened the hole, we would have been free.
The Germans assigned the Italian workers to destroy the tunnel. Then the Germans were looking to exact punishment and wanted to know who was responsible for the escape attempt and who worked on the tunnel. The camp leader told them everyone in the camp worked on it. The Germans said not everyone could fit into that tunnel and they wanted the names of those who participated in the escape attempt. The leader told them that everyone spent time working on the tunnel including himself. Then they interrogated the leader of barracks 12 and he said the same thing. They threatened to court marshal him and he said you can do the judgement right here and now, opening his shirt and telling them to shoot him.
The Germans did not end up punishing anyone. They moved the Belgian out of Laterina after the other prisoners threw stones at him and hit him. No one ever found out what happened to him.
After some time the prisoners started to dig another tunnel. I did not take part this time. Only a few people were working on it from another barracks and it was not as big or fancy as ours had been. It was very secretive, but I knew about it because they liked me and Constantine. One day two more Greeks arrived in the camp. One older man whom I knew casually from the other camps and another shorter man. We had other friends, one whose name was Maurice, who was from the Solomon Islands in the Pacific. He was a watch repairman by trade and he spoke French like myself and Constantine. We were very friendly with Maurice. There was also a friend of Maurice, named Louie who was also from the Solomon Islands. He was a nice young man about 20 years old. So our group was getting a little bigger and we were not spending as much time with the British. There were also Italian prisoners in Laterina, a couple of which were in our group. One young man named Ugo and an officer, both of which were in the Italian navy. Oddly though, the officer spoke to Ugo with great respect, but we did not know why. One day we did not see the officer and we asked Ugo where he was. Ugo told us that he had climbed into a garbage can and they filled the can with garbage to cover him up. In this way he made his escape when they took the garbage out of the camp...One day the Germans came looking for the captain of an Italian submarine. We did not know who that was. Finally Ugo said he was a submarine captain. They immediately took him and shipped him to Germany. What was behind the story we did not know, but he was a really nice guy whose company we enjoyed.
A couple of days later, around Easter, the South African sergeant, who I think was named George, said to us, 'I have an idea. I tested the poles holding up the barbed wire fence and because of the wet weather the poles are loose. If we gang up five or six people on each pole we can knock the poles down and escape. If we wait until evening, our chances will be better because maybe the Germans will be drunk or asleep and not paying attention”. Right away I told him it would not work.” A few people may escape, but the others will get killed”, I said. 'Sooner or later the Germans will see us escaping and then they will open up with the machine guns on us and a lot of people will get killed”.
'There was no way to stop George. He wanted to go. A lot of people followed him but Constantine, Pandolis (the Greek American POW from Boston) and I said this is crazy. But Johnny Cox and some of the other boys followed him.
They went up to the barbed wire and they were walking around like they were exercising and then they stopped. About 5 to 6 prisoners gathered around each pole and started to pull the pole down. They were trying to get through to the second line of the fence, but the Germans discovered them and started to shoot them with machine guns from the towers. The prisoners retreated back to the latrines which were built from concrete and brick.
They went inside and were trying to decide what to do next. They made another attempt to escape but they couldn't get through. There were two to three injuries and I think George the Sergeant, a handsome fellow, was shot in the back and killed. This meant that he had made it outside the wire. (See next page). We in the barracks lay flat on the ground to avoid the machine gun fire which was coming from all directions. Then they brought the dogs inside so everyone locked themselves in their barracks. We had an official funeral for the Sergeant the next day and we buried him in the cemetery at Laterina. When we had the funeral, the English said, 'We will remember you.', and they vowed to continue to attempt to escape. This is when they decided to make a tunnel.
The Tunnel in Laterina (See Sgt. George Cross R.A.F. on previous page. NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH THE TUNNEL MADE IN AUGUST-SEPTEMBER 1943)
The plan was to build a tunnel in barracks number 12 which was near the barbed wire. I was becoming friendly with the Italians and I had some money left with which I bought picks and shovels from them. The South Africans were very good in the tunnels because they had experience working in the gold mines.
Under a bed they cut the cement with a chisel and they took a whole piece of round cement from the floor and they started to dig. They made a square room about four foot square. In the meantime, the Germans received a complaint from the Red Cross about us sleeping on the concrete floor so they started to bring bunk beds and they gave us mattresses with straw inside. They were burning the old straw and putting new straw inside. We burned the new straw along with the old straw so that we could put all of the dirt in the mattresses that we were extracting from the tunnel. Initially we only dug in the tunnel at night. Later on we dug both day and night. The Germans had placed two guards with a dog to patrol the five to six foot space between the two wires after the previous escape attempt. We were continuously digging and the Italians brought us more tools.
I was working too. Constantine thought it was too dangerous and he did not work in the tunnel. He wanted to survive and make it back home because he had a mother, sister and fiancée waiting for him. I started to dig in the tunnel and I think my number was 27. The kitchen people had to have our numbers so that we could get double rations on the day that we worked in the tunnel so that we would have the strength to dig. In the meantime, some prisoners were breaking up the beds and taking the wood to make walls to hold the sides of the tunnel up. When the tunnel was expanded there was not enough air and we had to make an air pump. They made a bellows pump somehow with some cloth. We were working for many days almost to the end of May or the beginning of June. As the tunnel neared completion, the the participating POWs with numbers would come to sleep in barracks number 12, bringing all of their possessions just in case we received the order to go. The situation was getting uncontrollable with everyone crammed into the barracks and they said that Thursday night they would open the tunnel for the escape. A short distance from the fence, where the tunnel would open, there was a dried up river bed surrounded by high wheat fields. The plan was to escape before the wheat was harvested so we had cover for the escape.
On the Thursday night before the planned escape, Constantine and I hugged and kissed and said our goodbyes. I told him that if he did not see me again to tell my my family, when he returned to Greece, that he saw me alive on the day of the escape. That night when they were preparing to open the tunnel they heard the German guards patrolling and they realized that had to make the tunnel longer. They worked three more days. In the meantime every night the prisoners that were going to escape gathered in barracks 12 which made the barracks leader nervous. If the Germans made a surprise inspection, they would find the barracks full of people sleeping everywhere with all of their possessions and they would know something was up. Finally, they decided that Sunday night they would open the tunnel for the escape.
In the meantime new prisoners were arriving in the camp and they were telling the others that the allies were near. We thought if we could just make it out to the cover of the wheat fields it would be easy to hook up with the allies. The Americans were tired of war and did not want to risk escape. It was those of us who had been prisoners for a long time that wanted to escape. Those of us that escaped the camps before and had tasted freedom were hungry to be free again.
About this time, on Friday, there was a fight in the kitchen. There was a helper in the kitchen who was from Belgium. He was mad because he received a high number, around 80, to get out of the tunnel. He became angry and the next day he told the Germans that the prisoners had built a tunnel under barracks 12 and were going to escape.
The Germans entered barracks 12 and searched everywhere finding nothing. The Belgian could not speak German very well and he could not explain well. The Germans brought in the SS and they started to tear everything out and then they discovered the mattresses filled with dirt. They found the tunnel, removed the cement cover, and went inside. After a while they emerged. They were visibly impressed and said that this was not a tunnel but a work of art. Then the Germans started to dig from the exit of the tunnel. It turned out that when we thought we were between the wires on Thursday, we were actually five feet beyond the outermost wire. What a mistake we had made! Had we we stopped digging Thursday and opened the hole, we would have been free.
The Germans assigned the Italian workers to destroy the tunnel. Then the Germans were looking to exact punishment and wanted to know who was responsible for the escape attempt and who worked on the tunnel. The camp leader told them everyone in the camp worked on it. The Germans said not everyone could fit into that tunnel and they wanted the names of those who participated in the escape attempt. The leader told them that everyone spent time working on the tunnel including himself. Then they interrogated the leader of barracks 12 and he said the same thing. They threatened to court marshal him and he said you can do the judgement right here and now, opening his shirt and telling them to shoot him.
The Germans did not end up punishing anyone. They moved the Belgian out of Laterina after the other prisoners threw stones at him and hit him. No one ever found out what happened to him.
After some time the prisoners started to dig another tunnel. I did not take part this time. Only a few people were working on it from another barracks and it was not as big or fancy as ours had been. It was very secretive, but I knew about it because they liked me and Constantine. One day two more Greeks arrived in the camp. One older man whom I knew casually from the other camps and another shorter man. We had other friends, one whose name was Maurice, who was from the Solomon Islands in the Pacific. He was a watch repairman by trade and he spoke French like myself and Constantine. We were very friendly with Maurice. There was also a friend of Maurice, named Louie who was also from the Solomon Islands. He was a nice young man about 20 years old. So our group was getting a little bigger and we were not spending as much time with the British. There were also Italian prisoners in Laterina, a couple of which were in our group. One young man named Ugo and an officer, both of which were in the Italian navy. Oddly though, the officer spoke to Ugo with great respect, but we did not know why. One day we did not see the officer and we asked Ugo where he was. Ugo told us that he had climbed into a garbage can and they filled the can with garbage to cover him up. In this way he made his escape when they took the garbage out of the camp...One day the Germans came looking for the captain of an Italian submarine. We did not know who that was. Finally Ugo said he was a submarine captain. They immediately took him and shipped him to Germany. What was behind the story we did not know, but he was a really nice guy whose company we enjoyed.
D/X.1873 Able Seaman Ernest P. Bell, H.M. Submarine Saracen
A/B Bell escaped from Campo Marina No.1 Manziana north of Rome from with the rest of HM Submarine Saracen's ratings on 9 September 1943. After six months at large near Civita Castellana to the north of Rome and being captured by the Germans, Able Seaman Ernest Percival Bell was held in PG 54 and then sent to PG 82 Laterina where he also took part in the attempted breakout in early April and also a successful though short-lived escape in May. His Liberation Report WO 344/24/1 records two events which are mentioned above by Sgt. Saltiel. In answer to the questions
'Did you make any attempted or partly successful escapes? (Describe each attempt separately, stating where, when, method employed, names of your companions, where and when recaptured and by whom. Were you physically fit? What happened to you companions) A/B Bell wrote:
In Laterina. Rushed the wire. 2 killed 2 injured. South Africans names not known. (One was Vernon Erskine Freeman AUTHOR'S NOTE)
Smith tunnelled in Laterina. May 3rd. Successful 2 days. Smith, Gilbert, Griffiths. Germans.
A/B Bell recorded that he also escaped from the train taking him to Germany as it was going over the Brenner Pass. However he was recaptured and sent to Marlag und Milag Nord, Westertimke, near Bremen.
'Did you make any attempted or partly successful escapes? (Describe each attempt separately, stating where, when, method employed, names of your companions, where and when recaptured and by whom. Were you physically fit? What happened to you companions) A/B Bell wrote:
In Laterina. Rushed the wire. 2 killed 2 injured. South Africans names not known. (One was Vernon Erskine Freeman AUTHOR'S NOTE)
Smith tunnelled in Laterina. May 3rd. Successful 2 days. Smith, Gilbert, Griffiths. Germans.
A/B Bell recorded that he also escaped from the train taking him to Germany as it was going over the Brenner Pass. However he was recaptured and sent to Marlag und Milag Nord, Westertimke, near Bremen.
4758633 Private Fred Hirst, 2/5 Sherwood Foresters
Pte. Hirst was captured at Tamera on 16 March 1943. After a sea journey to Livorno (Leghorn) in an Italian cargo boat he was transferred to PG 82. He and his group were kept in quarantine for about a fortnight before being allowed to join the main camp. On 25 June he was one of a party of 30 men who went to a work camp at Pietraviva, from where he escaped at the Armistice. After a series of adventures in Umbria and the Abruzzo, where he had been recaptured and sent to PG 78 Sulmona, at the end of the first week of April 1944 he found himself back in Laterina.
His account of the attempt to break through the wire is important in that he wrote about ONE South African being killed, not two, and he names one of the wounded men as being a certain Lightfoot, who had been shot in the foot.
His account can be read in A Green Hill Far Away, pub. A.Lane, Stockport, 1998.
His account of the attempt to break through the wire is important in that he wrote about ONE South African being killed, not two, and he names one of the wounded men as being a certain Lightfoot, who had been shot in the foot.
His account can be read in A Green Hill Far Away, pub. A.Lane, Stockport, 1998.
14208010 Trooper Robert W. Calvey, 46 Recce Regiment
Trooper Calvey landed at Salerno in September '43 and was captured a few weeks later on the approach to the Garigliano. Interned at Frosinone and then PG 54 Fara in Sabina, he was put on the Stalag-bound prisoner of war train which was bombed by the United States Air Force at Allerona near Orvieto on 28 January 1944. Escaping unharmed from the train, he met up with two other British soldiers Gibson and 'Geordie'. The three were recaptured and held in PG 77 Pissignano before being transferred to Laterina when that camp was emptied at the end of February 1944.
It was early afternoon when we arrived at a large camp, the rows of dark coloured huts contained mostly British prisoners, a hundred or so other prisoners were American, and Canadian. There must have been at least 800 prisoners housed within these huts, many like us, still wearing civilian clothes, the camp was by no means full to its capacity. It was a strongly guarded camp, two look-out towers at the entrance, each tower manned by two guards, one with a sub-machine gun, the other carried a rifle. These towers could rake the entire frontal area of the camp, and like the other towers located at each corner, housed a mounted machine gun and a searchlight. A tall twin barbed-wire fence ran all the way round except at the far end, there just the one fence stood, its twin being renewed by Italian labourers. The original fence, I was told had been destroyed by some 3,000 overjoyed prisoners, who burnt the wooden fence posts when die news broke that Italy had capitulated. At this end of the camp, the guards were doubled day and night. The remainder of the outside wire was patrolled by two armed guards, one handled a vicious-looking guard dog. At night these guards were also doubled.
Talking to an inmate, who had been there a month, I was told the camp was near a place named Laterina, and in spite of strong security, some half a dozen escapes had occurred over the past three weeks, mainly through the fence which was now being renewed, I assumed. I informed Gibson and Giordie, about my short conversation with the older inmate, adding,
'If either of you decide to intake a break, you can count me in.'
We have taken that for granted,' they replied.
Although we had no intentions of trying anything until we had some food And sleep, to get over the privations of the last three days. The lavatory blocks were situated roughly four foot from the lone fence, at the end of camp. The replacement of the second fence failed to materialize within the time of our occupancy. A small window inside the toilets, which we found opened noiselessly gave access to the roof. We toyed for two days with the idea of getting onto the roof then leaping over the top of the fence, which was about a foot and a half below roof height, hoping to land without breaking a leg. A rough map was made from the information gleaned from various sources, as if our escape was successful, we wanted to travel in the right direction.
We decided to wait for a wet night, when apparently the guards and their dogs stayed under shelter. Anxiety filled our waiting hours, then the next night it rained almost constantly, but Gibson backed out saying the roof would be too slippery to jump from, it would be suicidal, and he didn't fancy dangling from a barbed wire fence all night. The escape attempt was postponed for that night, which meant at least another day facing that bloody barbed wire.
Moonlight for the next two nights, made us shelve our plans temporarily. Our anxiety caused friction between us and some of the other prisoners. Our keyed up minds snapped at the least provocation.
On the third night conditions were ideal for our bid for freedom, but it was Geordie this time who complained of stomach pains, and not feeling too well, suggesting Gibson and I should try it alone. The two of us trying it would be useless, as we needed Geordie's fluent Italian to make the effort worthwhile, besides that we made a good team. It was then agreed that if Geordie was okay the next night, we would definitely go for sure, rain or no rain. Geordie was fit by the next afternoon, but speaking to Gibson I found him rather dubious about the attempt, and I put it to him bluntly.
'Are we going over the bloody wire or not?'
He shrugged his shoulders and said, 'Why not leave it for the time being? We can always go another night', and Geordie seemed to agree with him.
'Fair enough,' I told them, 'I have been ready on every occasion to go, and you've both backed out! It's no blinking joke getting all keyed up, only to be let down by one excuse after another. If you make your minds up to have a go, good luck to you, and I hope you make it, but count me out!'
I left the two of them sitting on Gibson's bunk, as I returned to my own. We remained friendly the rest of the next day, and carried on with our usual daily routine, and by the time I kipped down for the night, I had dismissed any immediate thoughts of escape from my mind. My bunk was down the other end of the hut, so before turning in, I popped down to say goodnight to Gibson and Geordie, adding 'see you in the morning.'
Next morning I was up early but couldn't find Gibson or Geordie anywhere, and when roll call came it was obvious they were missing...What method they had used I could but guess. Five escapes were made that night, two escapees had walked straight through the front gates at dawn, carrying one of the large wooden fence posts. The post had been left inside the compound by mistake, one of the Italian labourers will carry the can for that. Rumours about the camp indicated that two men waited for the new guard replacement, and told them in faultless Italian that they had been let into the compound by the previous guard, who for security reasons had locked the gates behind them. They had been ordered to retrieve the post ... the guard opened the gate, and watched the two men vanish behind a pile of posts. The two who had walked through the gates, I assume, were Geordie and Gibson. I could understand why they did not want me with them. Firstly, the post -carrying only needed two men, and secondly, my fair hair and complexion was a definite disadvantage in a counry of predominantly dark- haired people. In spite of all the escapes, still a large number of prisoners wore civilian clothing, rumours spread throughout the camp that British uniforms were to be issued, and all civilian clothing burnt, but nothing ever came of it...
Other escape attempts were made from time to time, some must have succeeded, or the unlucky ones were shot in the attempt, or perhaps transferred to another camp, none ever returned to Laterina. I decided to wait for our move to Germany before trying to escape, for after all, Germany was a country of predominantly fair-haired people. A week later after morning roll call the entire camp was mustered in the compound and after a brief search of personal belongings, in my case nil, we were marched to a nearby railway siding. Accompanying us were heavily armed guards with ferocious looking guard dogs. We were en route for Germany.
From: Robert W. Calvey Name, Rank and Number The Book Guild Lewes 1998
7895023 Private William 'Bill' Blewitt 1 Sherwood Foresters and
George Arthur Gibson, 46 Recce Regiment
7895023 Private William 'Bill' Blewitt – 'Geordie', of 1 Sherwood Foresters, had been taken prisoner at Gazala in the Western Desert. He spent time in POW camps at Capua, (PG 66), Macerata (PG 53 ) and a work camp near Verona from where he escaped at the Armistice. Moving south, he was sheltered near the village of Veano to the north of Rome, but was recaptured on 6 January and sent to PG 54, Fara in Sabina where he met up with fellow Tynesider 10601299 George Arthur Gibson, 46 Recce Regiment. They were both put on the ill-fated prisoner of war train on 28 January.
There were a number of different nationalities in the camp, including a few black Americans, the first I had encountered during the war. These, and a small number of British other ranks were newly captured, whilst the rest of us were old escapers. Bob (Calvey) had decided against any further escape attempts, but Arthur and I were still eager to be outside the wire...We would look for the half chance, and when it came, we would have a go. That half chance was to come sooner than we expected...
...There was a danger that the prisoners would be counted as they were being locked up in the huts, but this was a chance we thought we had to take. Our next step was to find some way of distracting the guards, but how this could be achieved would have to be left till nearer the time of the break out. Out of courtesy, we told the officer and sergeant of our plan, without disclosing when we were going, but they both seemed totally disinterested, except to warn us that we would not get far in our bare feet. (Their shoes had been removed whilst on the POW train to discourage any attempted breakouts..AUTHOR'S NOTE) Their disinterest only acted to spur us on, and we waited eagerly for the next day.
It was a practice of our captors that each group of prisoners would be kept to their respective huts; there was no mixing of one group of prisoners with another. When not in the huts, the prisoners were kept under close scrutiny by two guards, except when it was necessary to go to the latrine. Even then, our guards would wait until there was a group of eight or ten, before one of the guards would accompany the group to the latrine. We had to make our break when there was only one guard to contend with, and we had to think of a way of distracting his attention. We would only need about ten seconds to get to the first empty hut, and there wait until the return of the guard with the latrine party, and then make our way from hut to hut. While we were pondering over how we could distract the guard, I noticed that two of them having a good time teasing a group of coloured Americans. It occurred to me that the Americans could help us by causing a distraction, and after talking it over with Arthur, I approached some of the coloureds and asked if they would distract the guards, while we entered an empty hut to steal some wood. They readily agreed, so Arthur and I settled down to await the last roll-call of the day, hopefully our last roll-call as prisoners.
The day dragged, but at last, after our final meal of watery soup, we waited impatiently for roll-call. This was a worrying time for us, because the Germans could change the time of the roll-call, or even change the routine by counting us individually into our huts. We were on tenterhooks, as we waited, but finally there was a cry of 'on parade', and we lined up, ready to be counted. The count did not take too long, and soon we were stood outside our own hut to wait until there was a party ready to go to the latrines. When they were on their way, and we were guarded by only one sentry, I would get two or three of the black Americans to begin their routine, a sort of shuffling dance, which we hoped would distract the sentry. Five, six, seven, eight; now there were nine lined up for the latrines, and YES, the guard was moving them off. Once their backs were turned, I nodded to our American friends, and they immediately began their routine, and as they moved slightly away from the hut, there were loud cheers. Of course, Arthur and I only had eyes for the guard, and as soon as he turned to gaze at the dancers, we were off, and within seconds had entered the first empty hut. With hearts pounding, we awaited the return of the second guard with his party. One down and only another eight huts to go, before we reached the wire!
After all the apprehension, it had all been so easy slipping into the first hut, and we hoped that we'd find the rest of the huts open too... we finally reached the last hut before dark, and we waited there till the first dog patrol had passed. While waiting, we tore some planks of wood from the three tiered bunks in the hut, to use as digging tools to burrow under the wire. It was almost dark when we heard the low whine of a dog; it was the patrol; not long now! We had no idea how long it would take the patrol to complete the circuit of the perimeter wire; in fact, there could possibly be more than one patrol, so we decided to wait until they came round a second time, or, if there turned out to be more than one patrol, to wait until the second patrol had passed. and then to rush to the wire. More than anything, we had to remain patient; after all, we had reached the wire without there being any hue and cry, and by now, the rest of the prisoners would be safely locked up for the night. It seemed we had not been missed, and so we could now take our time. Again, we heard the low whine of a dog. it could be the patrol returning, or perhaps a different one; we did not know, but it was now time to make our move.
Like shadows, the dog and its handler passed within twenty feet of our hiding place, and after giving them about five minutes, we crawled from the hut to the wire. The wire was adjacent to a river bank, and we were pleased to find that the earth was soft and damp. The rolls of barbed wire, which would normally be found inside the perimeter wire of any prison camp had been removed during the gradual dismantling of the camp. so we found we only had a single wire to contend with. We dug furiously with the wooden planks, and after what seemed ages, we were able to scramble out, on to the river bank. We were out, and we now had to put as much distance as we could between ourselves and the camp, and, find a place to hide for the night.
There were no sounds coming from the camp as we walked cautiously along the riverbank. We were dreading to hear the sound of dogs barking, but as we heard none, we assumed that the hole in the wire had not been discovered. When we had discussed our escape attempt, whilst in the camp, we had determined to cross the river Arno, but neither of us were strong swimmers, and in the darkness, the river appeared foreboding. We kept to the riverbank for some considerable distance, eventually leaving it, circling the camp, and heading in the direction of what we hoped would be the mountains. When we were sure we were well clear of the camp, we stopped and hid under a hedgerow for the night. Travelling barefoot in darkness, in strange terrain was asking for trouble, and if we were to reach higher ground, it was essential that we find something for our feet, without much delay. That night, as we lay under the hedge, we almost froze, but at least we were happy. As daylight broke, we heard the sound of dogs barking in the distance, but as the sound did not get any nearer, we continued on our way towards the mountains which were now just discernible in the dim light.
The two soldiers temporarily teamed up with some partisans on the Pratomagno mountain. They became separated but both managed to rejoin the Allied Lines.
From William Blewitt The Greatset Escape Unpublished Memoirs
There were a number of different nationalities in the camp, including a few black Americans, the first I had encountered during the war. These, and a small number of British other ranks were newly captured, whilst the rest of us were old escapers. Bob (Calvey) had decided against any further escape attempts, but Arthur and I were still eager to be outside the wire...We would look for the half chance, and when it came, we would have a go. That half chance was to come sooner than we expected...
...There was a danger that the prisoners would be counted as they were being locked up in the huts, but this was a chance we thought we had to take. Our next step was to find some way of distracting the guards, but how this could be achieved would have to be left till nearer the time of the break out. Out of courtesy, we told the officer and sergeant of our plan, without disclosing when we were going, but they both seemed totally disinterested, except to warn us that we would not get far in our bare feet. (Their shoes had been removed whilst on the POW train to discourage any attempted breakouts..AUTHOR'S NOTE) Their disinterest only acted to spur us on, and we waited eagerly for the next day.
It was a practice of our captors that each group of prisoners would be kept to their respective huts; there was no mixing of one group of prisoners with another. When not in the huts, the prisoners were kept under close scrutiny by two guards, except when it was necessary to go to the latrine. Even then, our guards would wait until there was a group of eight or ten, before one of the guards would accompany the group to the latrine. We had to make our break when there was only one guard to contend with, and we had to think of a way of distracting his attention. We would only need about ten seconds to get to the first empty hut, and there wait until the return of the guard with the latrine party, and then make our way from hut to hut. While we were pondering over how we could distract the guard, I noticed that two of them having a good time teasing a group of coloured Americans. It occurred to me that the Americans could help us by causing a distraction, and after talking it over with Arthur, I approached some of the coloureds and asked if they would distract the guards, while we entered an empty hut to steal some wood. They readily agreed, so Arthur and I settled down to await the last roll-call of the day, hopefully our last roll-call as prisoners.
The day dragged, but at last, after our final meal of watery soup, we waited impatiently for roll-call. This was a worrying time for us, because the Germans could change the time of the roll-call, or even change the routine by counting us individually into our huts. We were on tenterhooks, as we waited, but finally there was a cry of 'on parade', and we lined up, ready to be counted. The count did not take too long, and soon we were stood outside our own hut to wait until there was a party ready to go to the latrines. When they were on their way, and we were guarded by only one sentry, I would get two or three of the black Americans to begin their routine, a sort of shuffling dance, which we hoped would distract the sentry. Five, six, seven, eight; now there were nine lined up for the latrines, and YES, the guard was moving them off. Once their backs were turned, I nodded to our American friends, and they immediately began their routine, and as they moved slightly away from the hut, there were loud cheers. Of course, Arthur and I only had eyes for the guard, and as soon as he turned to gaze at the dancers, we were off, and within seconds had entered the first empty hut. With hearts pounding, we awaited the return of the second guard with his party. One down and only another eight huts to go, before we reached the wire!
After all the apprehension, it had all been so easy slipping into the first hut, and we hoped that we'd find the rest of the huts open too... we finally reached the last hut before dark, and we waited there till the first dog patrol had passed. While waiting, we tore some planks of wood from the three tiered bunks in the hut, to use as digging tools to burrow under the wire. It was almost dark when we heard the low whine of a dog; it was the patrol; not long now! We had no idea how long it would take the patrol to complete the circuit of the perimeter wire; in fact, there could possibly be more than one patrol, so we decided to wait until they came round a second time, or, if there turned out to be more than one patrol, to wait until the second patrol had passed. and then to rush to the wire. More than anything, we had to remain patient; after all, we had reached the wire without there being any hue and cry, and by now, the rest of the prisoners would be safely locked up for the night. It seemed we had not been missed, and so we could now take our time. Again, we heard the low whine of a dog. it could be the patrol returning, or perhaps a different one; we did not know, but it was now time to make our move.
Like shadows, the dog and its handler passed within twenty feet of our hiding place, and after giving them about five minutes, we crawled from the hut to the wire. The wire was adjacent to a river bank, and we were pleased to find that the earth was soft and damp. The rolls of barbed wire, which would normally be found inside the perimeter wire of any prison camp had been removed during the gradual dismantling of the camp. so we found we only had a single wire to contend with. We dug furiously with the wooden planks, and after what seemed ages, we were able to scramble out, on to the river bank. We were out, and we now had to put as much distance as we could between ourselves and the camp, and, find a place to hide for the night.
There were no sounds coming from the camp as we walked cautiously along the riverbank. We were dreading to hear the sound of dogs barking, but as we heard none, we assumed that the hole in the wire had not been discovered. When we had discussed our escape attempt, whilst in the camp, we had determined to cross the river Arno, but neither of us were strong swimmers, and in the darkness, the river appeared foreboding. We kept to the riverbank for some considerable distance, eventually leaving it, circling the camp, and heading in the direction of what we hoped would be the mountains. When we were sure we were well clear of the camp, we stopped and hid under a hedgerow for the night. Travelling barefoot in darkness, in strange terrain was asking for trouble, and if we were to reach higher ground, it was essential that we find something for our feet, without much delay. That night, as we lay under the hedge, we almost froze, but at least we were happy. As daylight broke, we heard the sound of dogs barking in the distance, but as the sound did not get any nearer, we continued on our way towards the mountains which were now just discernible in the dim light.
The two soldiers temporarily teamed up with some partisans on the Pratomagno mountain. They became separated but both managed to rejoin the Allied Lines.
From William Blewitt The Greatset Escape Unpublished Memoirs
SAP/195635 Corporal J.J. van Rooyen, South African Police
Cpl. van Rooyen (later Major) began his police career during the late 30s in Durban. He was selected to be part of the 1st SA Police Battalion during WW2 and was sent to fight the Nazi Regime in North Africa in 1941 when he was 22 years old. He was captured by the Germans in Tobruk on the border of Libya and Egypt of June 1942. He was first sent to camp 82 at Laterina, Italy as a prisoner of war for 1 year. In 1943 he was transferred to Stalag 4B in Muhlberg, Germany which was one of the largest concentration camps. (The photograph was taken in Stalag 4B Muhlberg and shows Corporal Van Rooyen holding his POW number) He lived in the camp for 2 years as a POW and was freed in 1945 after WW2 ended. He returned to South Africa and continued with a long police career as a detective. He was awarded 4 medals after the war.
(From his grandson who visited the camp in 2016. Two of his photographs are on the next page.)
(From his grandson who visited the camp in 2016. Two of his photographs are on the next page.)
SAP 196516 Lance Corporal Albert Martin Belling, South African Police
Captured by Germans in the desert near Tobruk, L/Cpl Belling was handed over to the Italians and taken to the POW camp at Benghazi via Tmimi and Derna. He was transferred to Italy by an Italian troop transport ship. First he was sent to PG65 at Gravina in Puglia and from there to PG82 Laterina on 31 August 1942. Following the Italian Armistice of 8 September 1943 he escaped with others. Whilst on the run he went to a farmhouse for food, was “fancied” by farm girl and was given a “treat”, a speciality in the form of a roasted sparrow (or similar), for a meal. He managed to eat it with his best manners. He hid in turnip field for several weeks, eating raw turnips, (and consequently passed on a genetic distaste for the flavour of turnips to his son). He was later recaptured by Italians, handed over to the occupying German forces and sent to Germany, where his presence was recorded on 2 December 1943. During 1944 - 5 he was held in Stalag 11A at Altengrabaw, from where he was released by the advancing Allied armies. He passed through the UK on 13 May 1945 on his way home to the Union of South Africa.
31268628 Staff Sergeant Gustave E. Schunemann, 1 Ranger Battalion, U.S. Army
S/Sgt Schunemann and the other 'Darby' Rangers who had been taken prisoner with him at Anzio at the end of January 1944 were initially sent to PG 54 Fara in Sabina. On or about the 8/9 February they were loaded onto trucks and moved north again to Laterina, which they described as a starvation camp, that had buildings with both doors and windows. Gus describes conditions at Laterina:
One or two buildings. even had a stove, which we crowded around. I have no idea where that camp was, except it was somewhere between Rome and Florence. Here we met prisoners from all the allied countries. It was a final processing center before the last ride to Germany. We filled out forms identifying ourselves and sent an official post card home announcing our POW status.
The biggest problem was getting enough food to eat. For breakfast we were given 200 grams of black bread, a slice about an inch thick, and a little marmalade. We also got a cup of ersatz coffee that tasted more like boiled combat boot. Some said it was burnt barley. But it was hot, and as time went by we learned to love it. In the evening we got a cup of potato soup, which was very thin. If you were real lucky, you got a piece of bone. One of the guys got one and he chewed on it for days. We were hungry all the time; losing weight fast. We soon cleared the entire compound of everything edible — weeds, grass, etc.
After a few days at this camp. the Germans brought in a load of hay for us to sleep on. Ordinarily this would have been a fine gesture as it was better than sleeping on concrete floors. Unfortunately, the hay was infested with lice who immediately took up residence on the bodies of the prisoners. These lice were so big they were immune to the louse powder that the Krauts gave us. All the itching, scratching, and squirming took our minds off the hunger, at least for a while. Sleep was nearly impossible with the lice running all over our bodies. They seemed to sleep during the day and raise hell all night.
Gus tells the story of his escape and other activities from 28 February to liberation on 10 August 1944:
On 28 February we prepared to take our last ride, this time by train, to permanent POW camps in Germany, called Stalags. As we filed out of the compound, we passed through a small gate house. One by one we were frisked on the way out, making sure we had no knives or weapons of any kind. Ray Sadowski, a buddy from my squad, had an Army pocket knife that he tossed over the fence to a man who had gone through the gate house. I was fortunate enough to end up in the same boxcar with the knife.
They put about fifty men in each car and locked the doors. European freight cars are unlike anything in the States. They have a small wooden window at the top of the wall on each side with two small, round ventilating holes. The window is a little smaller than one of our basement windows. It was nailed shut and covered with barbed wire on the outside. We had the knife, but at this point, we were not sure how we could use it. We first tried to cut through the floor but soon gave up. The floor was made with thick planking and cutting through would have taken too long. We then went to work on the window. It was about 4:00 pm when we began. Removing the nails and barbed wire with a knife was no easy task. To complicate matters. the train stopped every 15 or 20 minutes. When it did, the guards. who rode in a coach at the end of the train, would get out and walk up and down the length of it with flashlights, checking the doors and windows. Each time we had to put the barbed wire back in place and begin again when the train started to move.
After six hours of work on the window we were able to get it open. We tied a few pieces of blanket together and threw one end out the window, anchoring the other end around the biggest guy in the car. It was after 10:00 pm when the first man got out. I was the fifth one to go (only the small ones could squeeze through). The only other man I knew who escaped ahead of me was Bill Samara...He was picked up while walking down a road.
I got out the window and hung on the outside of the car. I was terrified at what I saw. There, just ahead, were dim lights and people standing around on the platform. Among them, I saw German soldiers with rifles slung over their shoulders. We were passing through a railroad station! Most of the people didn't notice me. Others just stared, agape in disbelief.
The electric train accelerated very quickly and I just hung on until I was clear of the marshaling yards. By now the train was moving very fast. Out of desperation and a strong will to survive, I kicked away from the boxcar and went head over heels on the railroad bed. I realized later how extremely lucky I was. I could have been over a bridge or passing through an underpass. It was so dark. I had no idea where I was. I picked myself up and found that I had only sprained my thumb a little. Again, I thanked God.
Right now my main objective was to get out of there, and fast. I had to get into the hills before daylight. I knew the railroad ran through the valley parallel to the Apennines, so I headed straight away from the tracks. I made my way - through vineyards, back yards, over roads, etc., spurred on by an occasional barking dog.
By daylight I was well into the foothills, away from everything. I walked all day ...by that evening I had crossed the Arno River at a town called Lastra a Signa. I spent that night sleeping in a haystack, far from the highway. My lice were delighted to meet some of their relatives, most of whom joined their friends on my body.
Walking through the woods the following morning. I heard someone chopping wood. As I eased closer and got him in view, I saw an old man, in his sixties, hacking away at briar stumps. This wood is used for fuel in fireplaces, It burns slowly, like charcoal. I watched him for some time and when I was sure he was alone, I approached him. In broken Italian, I told him I was an American, had just escaped from the Germans and was hungry. (One of the guys on the train spoke Italian and, through him, I learned a few key words). The old man, whose name was Ugo Paci, motioned for me to follow him, which I did. He led me down a path to a small farmhouse, the Gradi place. After some hurried explanations, in mile-a-minute Italian, to the lady of the house, he again motioned me to come in. They very graciously sat me down at the table. There, hanging over the fireplace, was a black iron kettle full of minestrone soup. Mrs. Gradi ladled out a bowlful of the soup and cut off a slab of freshly baked bread. She motioned for me to 'mangiare', i.e., eat.
Gus Shunemann had arrived in the village of Bruccianese. He hid firstly in a haystack, spent a few days with the local partisans until they were attacked buy the Germans and then in a dug-out in the woods. He was picked up by the crew of a Canadian tank on 10 August. After debriefing he was sent to the hospital in Caserta where he was treated for a septic foot before returning to the United States. In 1950 he returned to Buccianese with his family.
One or two buildings. even had a stove, which we crowded around. I have no idea where that camp was, except it was somewhere between Rome and Florence. Here we met prisoners from all the allied countries. It was a final processing center before the last ride to Germany. We filled out forms identifying ourselves and sent an official post card home announcing our POW status.
The biggest problem was getting enough food to eat. For breakfast we were given 200 grams of black bread, a slice about an inch thick, and a little marmalade. We also got a cup of ersatz coffee that tasted more like boiled combat boot. Some said it was burnt barley. But it was hot, and as time went by we learned to love it. In the evening we got a cup of potato soup, which was very thin. If you were real lucky, you got a piece of bone. One of the guys got one and he chewed on it for days. We were hungry all the time; losing weight fast. We soon cleared the entire compound of everything edible — weeds, grass, etc.
After a few days at this camp. the Germans brought in a load of hay for us to sleep on. Ordinarily this would have been a fine gesture as it was better than sleeping on concrete floors. Unfortunately, the hay was infested with lice who immediately took up residence on the bodies of the prisoners. These lice were so big they were immune to the louse powder that the Krauts gave us. All the itching, scratching, and squirming took our minds off the hunger, at least for a while. Sleep was nearly impossible with the lice running all over our bodies. They seemed to sleep during the day and raise hell all night.
Gus tells the story of his escape and other activities from 28 February to liberation on 10 August 1944:
On 28 February we prepared to take our last ride, this time by train, to permanent POW camps in Germany, called Stalags. As we filed out of the compound, we passed through a small gate house. One by one we were frisked on the way out, making sure we had no knives or weapons of any kind. Ray Sadowski, a buddy from my squad, had an Army pocket knife that he tossed over the fence to a man who had gone through the gate house. I was fortunate enough to end up in the same boxcar with the knife.
They put about fifty men in each car and locked the doors. European freight cars are unlike anything in the States. They have a small wooden window at the top of the wall on each side with two small, round ventilating holes. The window is a little smaller than one of our basement windows. It was nailed shut and covered with barbed wire on the outside. We had the knife, but at this point, we were not sure how we could use it. We first tried to cut through the floor but soon gave up. The floor was made with thick planking and cutting through would have taken too long. We then went to work on the window. It was about 4:00 pm when we began. Removing the nails and barbed wire with a knife was no easy task. To complicate matters. the train stopped every 15 or 20 minutes. When it did, the guards. who rode in a coach at the end of the train, would get out and walk up and down the length of it with flashlights, checking the doors and windows. Each time we had to put the barbed wire back in place and begin again when the train started to move.
After six hours of work on the window we were able to get it open. We tied a few pieces of blanket together and threw one end out the window, anchoring the other end around the biggest guy in the car. It was after 10:00 pm when the first man got out. I was the fifth one to go (only the small ones could squeeze through). The only other man I knew who escaped ahead of me was Bill Samara...He was picked up while walking down a road.
I got out the window and hung on the outside of the car. I was terrified at what I saw. There, just ahead, were dim lights and people standing around on the platform. Among them, I saw German soldiers with rifles slung over their shoulders. We were passing through a railroad station! Most of the people didn't notice me. Others just stared, agape in disbelief.
The electric train accelerated very quickly and I just hung on until I was clear of the marshaling yards. By now the train was moving very fast. Out of desperation and a strong will to survive, I kicked away from the boxcar and went head over heels on the railroad bed. I realized later how extremely lucky I was. I could have been over a bridge or passing through an underpass. It was so dark. I had no idea where I was. I picked myself up and found that I had only sprained my thumb a little. Again, I thanked God.
Right now my main objective was to get out of there, and fast. I had to get into the hills before daylight. I knew the railroad ran through the valley parallel to the Apennines, so I headed straight away from the tracks. I made my way - through vineyards, back yards, over roads, etc., spurred on by an occasional barking dog.
By daylight I was well into the foothills, away from everything. I walked all day ...by that evening I had crossed the Arno River at a town called Lastra a Signa. I spent that night sleeping in a haystack, far from the highway. My lice were delighted to meet some of their relatives, most of whom joined their friends on my body.
Walking through the woods the following morning. I heard someone chopping wood. As I eased closer and got him in view, I saw an old man, in his sixties, hacking away at briar stumps. This wood is used for fuel in fireplaces, It burns slowly, like charcoal. I watched him for some time and when I was sure he was alone, I approached him. In broken Italian, I told him I was an American, had just escaped from the Germans and was hungry. (One of the guys on the train spoke Italian and, through him, I learned a few key words). The old man, whose name was Ugo Paci, motioned for me to follow him, which I did. He led me down a path to a small farmhouse, the Gradi place. After some hurried explanations, in mile-a-minute Italian, to the lady of the house, he again motioned me to come in. They very graciously sat me down at the table. There, hanging over the fireplace, was a black iron kettle full of minestrone soup. Mrs. Gradi ladled out a bowlful of the soup and cut off a slab of freshly baked bread. She motioned for me to 'mangiare', i.e., eat.
Gus Shunemann had arrived in the village of Bruccianese. He hid firstly in a haystack, spent a few days with the local partisans until they were attacked buy the Germans and then in a dug-out in the woods. He was picked up by the crew of a Canadian tank on 10 August. After debriefing he was sent to the hospital in Caserta where he was treated for a septic foot before returning to the United States. In 1950 he returned to Buccianese with his family.
The Forced March
17 June 1944
4758633 Private Fred Hirst, 2/5 Sherwood Foresters
...Fred Hirst's account of how the camp was emptied is unique amongst the testimonies which have so far come to light. He said that the American Camp Leader called the men on parade to tell them that the Germans were preparing to evacuate the camp, and that their names would be called in batches to be loaded on to coaches for transportation further north. They were instructed to gather together whatever belongings they had, ready for their departure. Everyone was to parade the following morning and listen for their names. During the next day's parade the guards went round the huts looking for anyone who may be hiding in there hoping that they might hang on after everyone else had gone. The names were called, mostly American, about a hundred of them in the first session. The same happened again in the afternoon and again in the evening - about 300 in the day. Fred estimated that there were at least a 1,000 in the camp and that at this rate it would take another three days to get everyone away. He went on to add that there was great activity across at the Germans' quarters just outside the camp. They were loading up their possessions and looked to be almost ready to leave. Next day the few men still left paraded as usual and after the afternoon batch was sent on its way, including Fred, it seemed that there was was only one group left to be evacuated. Fred's group was were quickly, if not brutally, ushered out of the camp to three awaiting Italian coaches.
Fred Hirst A Green Hill Far Away. Pub. A. Lane, Stockport, 1998
Fred Hirst A Green Hill Far Away. Pub. A. Lane, Stockport, 1998
3908767 Corporal A. William 'Bill' Marsh, South Wales Borderers
Cpl. Marsh was captured near Tobruk on 18 June 1942. He was transferred to Italy and spent time in PG 85 Tuturano, Brindisi, , then in the Celio military hospital in Rome, and finally in PG 54 Fara in Sabina from where he escaped at the Armistice. He too was recaptured, sent back to PG 54 and put on the bombed POW train. Like Troopers Gibson and Calvey and Private Blewitt, he escaped from the wreckage and remained on the run until May with an Irishman named Johnnie.
Johnnie and I remained at this hideout until May 1944 when, on a Sunday morning around 4 or 5 o'clock in the early hours, a patrol of Germans with Alsatian dogs discovered us. Captured yet again, we were taken across the hills to another village called Valinfredda where we were handcuffed together, put into a motor truck and taken to a camp where there were more prisoners. We were only there a few hours when we were moved to a camp called Laterina. There were about five or six hundred of us in this camp. Here we stayed for a few weeks until one day the Germans decided to clear the camp. This was in the afternoon. We called this march the Murder March as 15 of our chaps were shot during this movement. They said they were marching us to a station but by the next morning we were back in the same camp. on arriving back a party was organised to go out and bring back the 15 dead who we buried.
During this night march I told one of our chaps I was going to make a break for it. Coming up the road towards us I could see a herd of white bullocks. I intended to walk among them but I found it was Germans tending the animals, not Italians. Something sharp was stuck in my back and I quickly jumped back into line!.
From Camp Laterina we were transported to another station and there put onto the train for Germany via the Brenner Pass. After reaching Germany we were put into a transit camp near Munich. (Stalag VIIA Moosburg. AUTHOR'S NOTE)
Johnnie and I remained at this hideout until May 1944 when, on a Sunday morning around 4 or 5 o'clock in the early hours, a patrol of Germans with Alsatian dogs discovered us. Captured yet again, we were taken across the hills to another village called Valinfredda where we were handcuffed together, put into a motor truck and taken to a camp where there were more prisoners. We were only there a few hours when we were moved to a camp called Laterina. There were about five or six hundred of us in this camp. Here we stayed for a few weeks until one day the Germans decided to clear the camp. This was in the afternoon. We called this march the Murder March as 15 of our chaps were shot during this movement. They said they were marching us to a station but by the next morning we were back in the same camp. on arriving back a party was organised to go out and bring back the 15 dead who we buried.
During this night march I told one of our chaps I was going to make a break for it. Coming up the road towards us I could see a herd of white bullocks. I intended to walk among them but I found it was Germans tending the animals, not Italians. Something sharp was stuck in my back and I quickly jumped back into line!.
From Camp Laterina we were transported to another station and there put onto the train for Germany via the Brenner Pass. After reaching Germany we were put into a transit camp near Munich. (Stalag VIIA Moosburg. AUTHOR'S NOTE)
10863 Sergeant Solomon Saltiel, 50 (Greek ) Infantry Division
The Death March from Laterina to the Train Station
There was a bridge about one half to one mile away over which a train would come to pick up prisoners from the camp to take them to Germany when they had empty cars. Most of those who went were Americans because they were trying to go first, while us older prisoners were trying to stay back...One day a group of 500 was selected and sent to Germany. Among them, was Pandolis Geracapolis from Boston and Maurice and Louie. The only ones left in our group were Constantine, a few Italians, the two other Greeks that we didn't see to often, and myself. It was June 19, 1944 (17th June according to other sources. AUTHOR'S NOTE) when we started to hear artillery and later machine gun fire from the allied advance. We were happy and thought we would be free.( On 19 June 78 British Infantry Division liberated Città della Pieve, 86 km away. AUTHOR'S NOTE)
Around 7:00 pm the Germans started to group us and told us we would be moving, walking north. They gave us a little food and put us in a column in rows of 6. The German guards were assigned to alternate rows at opposite ends of each row. As we were walking, we were all very sad that we were being taken away from freedom. The Italian farmers and civilians in the streets were saluting us and removing their hats. They were telling us the war is over and that soon we would be free.
Next to me there was a French Lieutenant from the De Gaulle army. He told me he was going to step outside the column and pull down his pants so that he could relieve himself. I told him not to, that maybe the Germans would kill him. He stepped out of the column anyway and a guard shot him a few feet from us even though he was motioning to the guard to say he had pain in his stomach. They didn't believe him and they killed him. We had all become like animals, the Germans and prisoners alike. Many prisoners had been killed but we did not know how many.
Around 7:30 pm, just before dark, some of the prisoners with the most courage started to run from the column. The Germans shot them dead. They had no intention of simply inflicting injury. Finally it became dark. One of the Greeks, a short fellow, jumped behind a large wood pile and he was free. We never found out his fate. In the meantime it started to rain, a drizzle, and it was very dark. When we went through a Medieval town called … (Levane. AUTHOR'S NOTE) not far from Florence, I saw a narrow road intersecting the main road and I ran out of the column down this road.
I was dressed in civilian clothes covered with an American jacket and overalls and I was carrying a small suitcase. All of a sudden I heard a shot and light from a flash-light from far away fell on me. Two to three Germans started to chase me so I ran up to a door at one of the buildings. I saw one, two, three prisoners dead and mutilated by the door, so I gave up. They were shouting at me in German and I didn't understand. They pushed me up against the cement wall and they were positioning their machine guns to execute me.
In a second I was thinking I am dying and I will not see my mother again (His son added: My father never did as she had been deported from Salonika and gassed at Auschwitz which he would find out after the war). I held my hands up and began talking to them in Italian telling them I have an old mother that I have not seen in years. I told them that I never fought the Germans and was a prisoner of the Italians. I told them I had been a prisoner already for four years and pleaded with them to spare me so that I could see my old mother who was waiting for me back home.
They did not understand a word that I said. A soldier hit me in the head with the butt of his gun and as I was bleeding, I tried to hold the machine gun away from me and I repeated my plea in French. I was almost crying and they stopped for a moment as one of the Germans spoke French. He spoke to the other soldiers and they pulled me by my arms and they started to hit me with a gun in my knee and back, yelling 'Raus, Raus'. They pushed me back towards that long line of prisoners. Before we got there they had taken my glasses.
When we reached the column, the guards from the camp tried to kill me on the spot but some Australians and other prisoners got mad and grabbed me, pushing me deep inside the column. They mixed me inside so the guards could not get me. It was a miracle that I was alive. Things were turned around and I was sick and dizzy. Mechanically my legs were moving, but I felt as if I had no control over them as it started to rain harder. The Germans finally marched us into a soccer stadium where they were putting all of the prisoners. The guards started a few fires and we lay on the ground in the rain and slept.
In the morning I found Constantine and I told him what had happened. He said that it was too dangerous to escape and told me not to attempt it any more. In the morning they started to march us back to the camp in Laterina. There was no artillery or machine gun fire to be heard. It was quiet as if nothing had happened. It was not long before they started to move us back to the camp and we were thirsty and hungry as they had not given us anything to eat or drink since the day before. Some prisoners on the outside of the column were grabbing wheat from the side of the road and eating it while marching.
Around the town of... the Germans had placed the bodies of prisoners who had tried to escape the night before and who were killed...When we returned to the camp, some of the us went to the barracks where the smaller second tunnel was being built. Those prisoners who had hid in the uncompleted tunnel during the camp evacuation and when everyone had left they were able to make their escape.
Final Departure from Laterina
My life in Laterina after that was not the same. The rain did not stop for ten days and we didn't hear one shot from the American side. We did not hear the airplane anymore that was bombing the bridge every day. We were there ten days living miserably with little food and everybody was in bad shape. We were waiting to be free, but the allies never came.
One day the Germans took us and put us on a train. They put 60 to 80 of us in a boxcar and we couldn't even all sit. Inside was a big box for us to relieve ourselves in. It was horrible, worse than trains to carry cattle. We still had hope that the planes would bomb the railroad and we would be free. The planes were coming and the train was stopping under the bridges so the planes would not see them.
I was in the company of two British soldiers, George Attewell and Johnny Cox who decided they were going to escape. I asked how we were going to escape when they had barbed wire behind the doors. They decided that they would cut a piece of wood from the floor of the boxcar so that a man could slip out and lay between the rails when the train stopped and make his escape. It was dark and I had a little candle in my pocket that I had saved from my days roaming the Italian countryside. I gave them the candle and some of the prisoners had some tools or knives which they used to cut open a hole in the floor. At the next stop, a few people climbed out of this hole and escaped but we did not know if they made it or were run over by the train as it pulled away.
Finally we went to North Italy. I cannot compare the Italy of 1941, where everyone was happy laughing and singing around the railroad station, to the Italy of 1944 which was hell. The railroad buildings were damaged from the bombs and there were Fascists and Germans all over yelling 'Raus, Raus” telling people to move away from the station. The Italian civilians were all afraid and could not talk. It took us three or more days to go from ...to Mantova in North Italy. Here the Germans were sure the allies could not liberate us.
They emptied us from the filthy train wagons filled with the stench of urine and feces. They made all of us strip naked and the German soldiers used this as an excuse to steal from us. They were emptying our pockets and they told us no metal was allowed so they were taking the prisoner’s gold rings and watches. They gave us back our clothes and we were there one or two days sleeping outdoors without any blankets or shelter. They fed us a little, but we were all weak and emaciated. We did not see any more airplanes or hear artillery or machine guns. Freedom was becoming a distant thought. They put us on another train and we started the long trip to Germany and everyone was sad as we went through the Brenner pass at the Italian and Austrian border. Through little holes in the train we were able to see the scenery and the cities like Vienna in Austria. One day, in the morning, we passed Munich and later the train stopped in Moosburg. They de-trained us in Moosburg, they put us in lines, and we walked to a huge camp with a sign that said VIIA.
On tape, transcribed and contributed by his son Martin Saltiel
There was a bridge about one half to one mile away over which a train would come to pick up prisoners from the camp to take them to Germany when they had empty cars. Most of those who went were Americans because they were trying to go first, while us older prisoners were trying to stay back...One day a group of 500 was selected and sent to Germany. Among them, was Pandolis Geracapolis from Boston and Maurice and Louie. The only ones left in our group were Constantine, a few Italians, the two other Greeks that we didn't see to often, and myself. It was June 19, 1944 (17th June according to other sources. AUTHOR'S NOTE) when we started to hear artillery and later machine gun fire from the allied advance. We were happy and thought we would be free.( On 19 June 78 British Infantry Division liberated Città della Pieve, 86 km away. AUTHOR'S NOTE)
Around 7:00 pm the Germans started to group us and told us we would be moving, walking north. They gave us a little food and put us in a column in rows of 6. The German guards were assigned to alternate rows at opposite ends of each row. As we were walking, we were all very sad that we were being taken away from freedom. The Italian farmers and civilians in the streets were saluting us and removing their hats. They were telling us the war is over and that soon we would be free.
Next to me there was a French Lieutenant from the De Gaulle army. He told me he was going to step outside the column and pull down his pants so that he could relieve himself. I told him not to, that maybe the Germans would kill him. He stepped out of the column anyway and a guard shot him a few feet from us even though he was motioning to the guard to say he had pain in his stomach. They didn't believe him and they killed him. We had all become like animals, the Germans and prisoners alike. Many prisoners had been killed but we did not know how many.
Around 7:30 pm, just before dark, some of the prisoners with the most courage started to run from the column. The Germans shot them dead. They had no intention of simply inflicting injury. Finally it became dark. One of the Greeks, a short fellow, jumped behind a large wood pile and he was free. We never found out his fate. In the meantime it started to rain, a drizzle, and it was very dark. When we went through a Medieval town called … (Levane. AUTHOR'S NOTE) not far from Florence, I saw a narrow road intersecting the main road and I ran out of the column down this road.
I was dressed in civilian clothes covered with an American jacket and overalls and I was carrying a small suitcase. All of a sudden I heard a shot and light from a flash-light from far away fell on me. Two to three Germans started to chase me so I ran up to a door at one of the buildings. I saw one, two, three prisoners dead and mutilated by the door, so I gave up. They were shouting at me in German and I didn't understand. They pushed me up against the cement wall and they were positioning their machine guns to execute me.
In a second I was thinking I am dying and I will not see my mother again (His son added: My father never did as she had been deported from Salonika and gassed at Auschwitz which he would find out after the war). I held my hands up and began talking to them in Italian telling them I have an old mother that I have not seen in years. I told them that I never fought the Germans and was a prisoner of the Italians. I told them I had been a prisoner already for four years and pleaded with them to spare me so that I could see my old mother who was waiting for me back home.
They did not understand a word that I said. A soldier hit me in the head with the butt of his gun and as I was bleeding, I tried to hold the machine gun away from me and I repeated my plea in French. I was almost crying and they stopped for a moment as one of the Germans spoke French. He spoke to the other soldiers and they pulled me by my arms and they started to hit me with a gun in my knee and back, yelling 'Raus, Raus'. They pushed me back towards that long line of prisoners. Before we got there they had taken my glasses.
When we reached the column, the guards from the camp tried to kill me on the spot but some Australians and other prisoners got mad and grabbed me, pushing me deep inside the column. They mixed me inside so the guards could not get me. It was a miracle that I was alive. Things were turned around and I was sick and dizzy. Mechanically my legs were moving, but I felt as if I had no control over them as it started to rain harder. The Germans finally marched us into a soccer stadium where they were putting all of the prisoners. The guards started a few fires and we lay on the ground in the rain and slept.
In the morning I found Constantine and I told him what had happened. He said that it was too dangerous to escape and told me not to attempt it any more. In the morning they started to march us back to the camp in Laterina. There was no artillery or machine gun fire to be heard. It was quiet as if nothing had happened. It was not long before they started to move us back to the camp and we were thirsty and hungry as they had not given us anything to eat or drink since the day before. Some prisoners on the outside of the column were grabbing wheat from the side of the road and eating it while marching.
Around the town of... the Germans had placed the bodies of prisoners who had tried to escape the night before and who were killed...When we returned to the camp, some of the us went to the barracks where the smaller second tunnel was being built. Those prisoners who had hid in the uncompleted tunnel during the camp evacuation and when everyone had left they were able to make their escape.
Final Departure from Laterina
My life in Laterina after that was not the same. The rain did not stop for ten days and we didn't hear one shot from the American side. We did not hear the airplane anymore that was bombing the bridge every day. We were there ten days living miserably with little food and everybody was in bad shape. We were waiting to be free, but the allies never came.
One day the Germans took us and put us on a train. They put 60 to 80 of us in a boxcar and we couldn't even all sit. Inside was a big box for us to relieve ourselves in. It was horrible, worse than trains to carry cattle. We still had hope that the planes would bomb the railroad and we would be free. The planes were coming and the train was stopping under the bridges so the planes would not see them.
I was in the company of two British soldiers, George Attewell and Johnny Cox who decided they were going to escape. I asked how we were going to escape when they had barbed wire behind the doors. They decided that they would cut a piece of wood from the floor of the boxcar so that a man could slip out and lay between the rails when the train stopped and make his escape. It was dark and I had a little candle in my pocket that I had saved from my days roaming the Italian countryside. I gave them the candle and some of the prisoners had some tools or knives which they used to cut open a hole in the floor. At the next stop, a few people climbed out of this hole and escaped but we did not know if they made it or were run over by the train as it pulled away.
Finally we went to North Italy. I cannot compare the Italy of 1941, where everyone was happy laughing and singing around the railroad station, to the Italy of 1944 which was hell. The railroad buildings were damaged from the bombs and there were Fascists and Germans all over yelling 'Raus, Raus” telling people to move away from the station. The Italian civilians were all afraid and could not talk. It took us three or more days to go from ...to Mantova in North Italy. Here the Germans were sure the allies could not liberate us.
They emptied us from the filthy train wagons filled with the stench of urine and feces. They made all of us strip naked and the German soldiers used this as an excuse to steal from us. They were emptying our pockets and they told us no metal was allowed so they were taking the prisoner’s gold rings and watches. They gave us back our clothes and we were there one or two days sleeping outdoors without any blankets or shelter. They fed us a little, but we were all weak and emaciated. We did not see any more airplanes or hear artillery or machine guns. Freedom was becoming a distant thought. They put us on another train and we started the long trip to Germany and everyone was sad as we went through the Brenner pass at the Italian and Austrian border. Through little holes in the train we were able to see the scenery and the cities like Vienna in Austria. One day, in the morning, we passed Munich and later the train stopped in Moosburg. They de-trained us in Moosburg, they put us in lines, and we walked to a huge camp with a sign that said VIIA.
On tape, transcribed and contributed by his son Martin Saltiel
Kostas Argiris, Greek soldier imprisoned with Solomon Saltiel
Testimony found in Book titled Behind the Sunshine, Five Years a Prisoner of War
By Kostas Argiris, written in Athens, Greece Page 169.
We got to know the progress of the allies and every time it would rain they would stop advancing. We were waiting. The allies were pounding the surrounding areas with artillery and air planes. Still they did not advance. We were expecting them in days or hours. The Germans were getting nervous and upset. As we were all waiting for the allies to come we were both nervous and happy, but the rain started again, halting their advance.
The order came for all 2,500 soldiers to form a long line right away. For where we didn’t know, but we would go by foot. This was a march where you had to put the body above the mind. Some of the prisoners tried to escape. Some tried to hide in the camp. They started coming out and their clothes were ripped. The German dogs got them. Some were weak or sick without clothes or shoes.
We were all together in a long line with our heads down. It was light rain the entire time. I tried to walk fast with my eyes closed telling myself this is it. I don’t have any other choice. At dusk you could not see the guards, but they could see us with their flash lights. Some prisoners tried to run down side streets, but they would shine the lights on them and shoot them.
The Germans would yell “Raus” and the dogs were put on the prisoners or they hit them with the butts of their guns to make the prisoners walk faster. The rain is hitting your face and you cannot breath and the dogs are barking. The darkness is terrible and someone complains that his feet are bloody, but no one pays attention to him and whoever does not walk fast enough the dogs get to them.
Still people were trying to run away and they were being shot. The time goes by badly. No one is talking and every so often someone tries to escape and ends up dead. It is screaming and barking and death. Someone asked the Germans how long this was going to last and they yelled “Raus” and thy pushed him. He held his belly and said I have to relieve myself. The Germans yelled “Raus” and hit him with the butt of the gun. As he was walking, he tried to lower his trousers and as he squatted down, they thought he was trying to escape and they shot him and killed him.
Before dawn we stopped and they told us 150 prisoners ran away and 34 were dead. The others we didn’t ask because we didn’t want to know. It was still raining. You ask yourself how come I am not dead yet.
Then again we marched back the same way we came. It wasn’t hard to understand. The rain did its job. The allies stopped advancing and the Germans did not feel the allies were a threat so we were brought back to camp until they would find us transportation. Now it was day time and it was not bad. We could see the destruction from the allied bombings. The vacant beautiful villas and once in a while some people would smile at us. There was a garden with beautiful flowers that we could smell. It was a nice garden and I tried to close my eyes and smell the fresh air. I made a mistake and opened my eyes in the square in the middle of the village. The Germans had put all of the dead young prisoners there. I could not count them but there were a lot.
The rain lasted two or three more days and when the sun came up they put us on trains. You could hear the artillery nearby. This place was soon to be free but, we were being evacuated. A very long train ride. In every car there were 54 men on top of each other. The doors were locked and they put iron rods on the door.
It took us three days and three nights which seemed like years. There was no space between us and it was nauseating. The terrible smell with a barrel in the middle of the wagon filled with urine. The men were stepping on one another to get to the barrel.
When you experience this, you feel as if there is no God. Who can survive such an ordeal? Finally we arrived after three days in the dark we saw the light and finally fresh air. The German guards did (not) care about our lives. The Germans were following only the minimum rules of the Geneva Convention.
Contributed by Martin Saltiel. Translated from the Greek by his mother
By Kostas Argiris, written in Athens, Greece Page 169.
We got to know the progress of the allies and every time it would rain they would stop advancing. We were waiting. The allies were pounding the surrounding areas with artillery and air planes. Still they did not advance. We were expecting them in days or hours. The Germans were getting nervous and upset. As we were all waiting for the allies to come we were both nervous and happy, but the rain started again, halting their advance.
The order came for all 2,500 soldiers to form a long line right away. For where we didn’t know, but we would go by foot. This was a march where you had to put the body above the mind. Some of the prisoners tried to escape. Some tried to hide in the camp. They started coming out and their clothes were ripped. The German dogs got them. Some were weak or sick without clothes or shoes.
We were all together in a long line with our heads down. It was light rain the entire time. I tried to walk fast with my eyes closed telling myself this is it. I don’t have any other choice. At dusk you could not see the guards, but they could see us with their flash lights. Some prisoners tried to run down side streets, but they would shine the lights on them and shoot them.
The Germans would yell “Raus” and the dogs were put on the prisoners or they hit them with the butts of their guns to make the prisoners walk faster. The rain is hitting your face and you cannot breath and the dogs are barking. The darkness is terrible and someone complains that his feet are bloody, but no one pays attention to him and whoever does not walk fast enough the dogs get to them.
Still people were trying to run away and they were being shot. The time goes by badly. No one is talking and every so often someone tries to escape and ends up dead. It is screaming and barking and death. Someone asked the Germans how long this was going to last and they yelled “Raus” and thy pushed him. He held his belly and said I have to relieve myself. The Germans yelled “Raus” and hit him with the butt of the gun. As he was walking, he tried to lower his trousers and as he squatted down, they thought he was trying to escape and they shot him and killed him.
Before dawn we stopped and they told us 150 prisoners ran away and 34 were dead. The others we didn’t ask because we didn’t want to know. It was still raining. You ask yourself how come I am not dead yet.
Then again we marched back the same way we came. It wasn’t hard to understand. The rain did its job. The allies stopped advancing and the Germans did not feel the allies were a threat so we were brought back to camp until they would find us transportation. Now it was day time and it was not bad. We could see the destruction from the allied bombings. The vacant beautiful villas and once in a while some people would smile at us. There was a garden with beautiful flowers that we could smell. It was a nice garden and I tried to close my eyes and smell the fresh air. I made a mistake and opened my eyes in the square in the middle of the village. The Germans had put all of the dead young prisoners there. I could not count them but there were a lot.
The rain lasted two or three more days and when the sun came up they put us on trains. You could hear the artillery nearby. This place was soon to be free but, we were being evacuated. A very long train ride. In every car there were 54 men on top of each other. The doors were locked and they put iron rods on the door.
It took us three days and three nights which seemed like years. There was no space between us and it was nauseating. The terrible smell with a barrel in the middle of the wagon filled with urine. The men were stepping on one another to get to the barrel.
When you experience this, you feel as if there is no God. Who can survive such an ordeal? Finally we arrived after three days in the dark we saw the light and finally fresh air. The German guards did (not) care about our lives. The Germans were following only the minimum rules of the Geneva Convention.
Contributed by Martin Saltiel. Translated from the Greek by his mother
C/JX.144682 Leading Seaman Tony C.Dodd, H.M. Submarine Saracen
Ldg.Smn. Dodd escaped from Campo Marina No.1 Manziana north of Rome with the rest of HM Submarine Saracen's ratings on 9 September 1943. He hid out for six months with a family in the Sabine hills but was recaptured by the Germans near to Rome on 21 March 1944. Like eleven of his shipmates, he was held in PG 82 Laterina before being sent to Germany. His Liberation Report WO 344/92/2 gives evidence both regarding an attempted breakout, in which he 'charged the fence', and the Forced March.
An episode whilst the Germans were marching us northwards in Italy from Laterina camp,vicinity of Arezzo, of shooting POWs in the back when they had already given themselves up and returning to ranks. By one Hoffmann, an interpreter of the same Laterina camp.
An episode whilst the Germans were marching us northwards in Italy from Laterina camp,vicinity of Arezzo, of shooting POWs in the back when they had already given themselves up and returning to ranks. By one Hoffmann, an interpreter of the same Laterina camp.
Other Testimonies
CLICK ON THE UNDERLINED NAMES OR WORDS FOR MORE INFORMATION
SAP/ 195520 Private Petrus Johannes Van Zyl
My late father was in SAP Battalion 6th SA Infantry Brigade. He was a POW in Germany and Italy, Stalag 8C and Campo 82.
Although I always wanted to know everything, he never spoke much about his experiences. I found a label with quite a few names signed on it and discovered that at least three of them appeared in 'Captives Courageous, South African Prisoners of World War II' written by Maxwell Leigh.as authors of some of the chapters.
(From his daughter Marie Boshoff)
My late father was in SAP Battalion 6th SA Infantry Brigade. He was a POW in Germany and Italy, Stalag 8C and Campo 82.
Although I always wanted to know everything, he never spoke much about his experiences. I found a label with quite a few names signed on it and discovered that at least three of them appeared in 'Captives Courageous, South African Prisoners of World War II' written by Maxwell Leigh.as authors of some of the chapters.
(From his daughter Marie Boshoff)
2573109 Cpl. Douglas Kitts (Royal Corps of Signals)
Regular soldier, evacuated at Dunkirk. Served in Desert Campaign, captured whilst in hospital at Tobruk 1942. Sent to PG 82 Laterina. Escaped following 8 September Armistice 1943. Fought with Partisans. Arrived in London Sept 1944. Killed by V2 in Tooting 19/11/44
T182/469 Dvr. Arthur Dodd RASC
Dvr. Dodd served as a volunteer in France and was involved in the Dunkirk evacuation. Later, he was posted to North Africa and was in action at Tobruk. Dodd and an injured colleague were captured by the enemy at Badir in the Western Desert. After being held in a number of Italian POW camps, including PG 82 at Laterina, on 22 July 1943 he was transferred to Auschwitz III( Monowtiz) labour camp only five miles away from the better-known extermination camp Auschwitz II (Birkenau). Monowitz was under the direction of the industrial company I G Farben, who were building a synthetic rubber and liquid fuel plant there, and housed over 10,000 Jewish slave labourers, as well as POWs and forced labourers from all over occupied Europe.
5501918 Cpl. Ernest A. White 5th Battalion Hampshire Regiment
Captured in Tunisia on 27 February, 1943, Cpl. White was held PG 66 at Capua before being sent on 16 June to PG 82 at Laterina and then to work camp 82/XV at Borgo San Lorenzo. After having escaped at the Armistice on 13 September he was recaptured and sent to Stalag VIIIA in Gorlitz in Lower Silesia.
61812 Sgt. Douglas A.G. Welsford RASC
Sgt. Welsford had been taken prisoner in North Africa and was senior NCO at the Work Camp at Lovatelli Estate, Taverne-di-Arbia.
4469530 Pte. G R Hamilton Durham Light Infantry
Along with many other 16th DLI and 2nd/5th Sherwood Foresters who had been captured at Sedjenane, Pte. Hamilton was put aboard a German-crewed ship and taken to Camp PG 66 Capua before being sent to Camp PG 82 at Laterina. On 22 July he was transferred to Germany. (The website owner was not aware that Pte Hamilton was part of the group which left the camp on 22 July but thought he departed after the Armistice. AUTHOR'S NOTE) After a period at Stalag 4B in Germany in September 1943, he was sent to the British work camp E 715, which was within the I G Farben complex at Auschwitz.
4451272 Bandsman Robert Pratt 1 Durham Light Infantry
Bandsman Pratt posed as a workman and walked out of the camp unchallenged. Read his story:
5951812 Sgt. James Hood, C/Sgt. 877462 Daniel James Feasey 16 Durham Light Infantry
Sgt. Hood and C/Sgt. Feasey escaped from a train taking them from PG 82 to Germany on 17 September 1943 and joined the partisans near Sora. Sgt. Hood was awarded the Military Medal but Sgt. Feasey was recaptured.
13938 Gunner Desmond Ford, South African Artillery, 9035 Rifleman Michael Bryant, Kaffrarian Rifles
Gnr. Ford was captured, six months before Tobruk, at El Agheila. Rmn. Bryant of the Kaffrarian Rifles was taken at Tobruk; and the two eventually coincided at Camp 82, at Laterina, and moved together to Camp PG120 at Chiesanuova, Padua. There, on 8 September, 1943, at the time of Italy's capitulation, they escaped. They were together a month, the only South Africans in their zone. They travelled, in civilian clothes, under the noses of the Germans by train and truck to Belluno, where they joined a band of 14 Italian partisans.
Rfn. Bryant - 'Mick' was killed in a partisan action on 13 July 1944.
(Marina Anna Vida Facebook)
109011 Gunner Eric J. Maunder South African Artillery
Gunner Maunder was another South African prisoner of war sent from PG 82 Laterina to PG 120 Chiesanuova to Work Detachment 2, a market garden. On 9 April 1943 he sent a postcard to his family (see below). He escaped at the Armistice, and with the help of the underground made it to Elsau, Swizerland with the aid of a false identity card. In this photograph he was enjoying some skiing. (Information from his daughter Mrs Rose Durrant) |
5511996 Private Jonathan Wilkinson 5 Battalion Hampshire Regiment
Pte. Wilkinson was captured near Sidi Nsir In North Africa on 26 February 1943. On 4 March he left for Naples on the SS Congo, arriving four days later. From Naples he was moved to PG 66 Capua and after three months he was transferred to Laterina. After just a short while he became part of the workforce at 82XV at Borge San Lorenzo. Pte. Wilkinson enjoyed two days of freedom after the Armistice but was soon recaptured, sent to PG 19 at Bologna in cattle trucks and from there to southern Germany. He finished up in Poland in various work camps associated with Stalag VIIIA Gorlitz.
Pte. Wilkinson was captured near Sidi Nsir In North Africa on 26 February 1943. On 4 March he left for Naples on the SS Congo, arriving four days later. From Naples he was moved to PG 66 Capua and after three months he was transferred to Laterina. After just a short while he became part of the workforce at 82XV at Borge San Lorenzo. Pte. Wilkinson enjoyed two days of freedom after the Armistice but was soon recaptured, sent to PG 19 at Bologna in cattle trucks and from there to southern Germany. He finished up in Poland in various work camps associated with Stalag VIIIA Gorlitz.
6406993 Private Charles (Charlie) W. Standing Hampshire Regiment
Like Pte. Wilkinson Pte. Standing was captured near Sidi Nisr. His story can be read here:
His geat grandson Elliot S. Hasler has recently made a feature film about him which was screened at the Brighton and Edinburgh fringe festivals in 2016. The film, in DVD format, can be ordered from www.relsahproductions.co.uk.
Like Pte. Wilkinson Pte. Standing was captured near Sidi Nisr. His story can be read here:
His geat grandson Elliot S. Hasler has recently made a feature film about him which was screened at the Brighton and Edinburgh fringe festivals in 2016. The film, in DVD format, can be ordered from www.relsahproductions.co.uk.
Postcard from 109011Gunner Eric Maunder to his family April 1943
Janet Kinrade Dethick 2016