CHAPTER 13 - BLIGHTY BOUND
“Look homeward Angel.”
The first part of this story unfortunately went missing but I can throw some light on events from some of the few conversations I had with my father since he was so loath to talk openly about his experiences. Some time after the war a photograph arrived in the post. It was a picture of a lady I now know to be a Czech. She was almost gypsy looking. Apparently, after being taken in by the Czech partisans following their escape, Dad and Tim were seconded to Czech families where they went through the motions of living normal family lives. A wife and children were seconded to them as their wife and family so that they could walk the streets and go shopping as normal. The photograph that arrived through our letterbox was the lady who for a short time was my father’s surrogate wife. My mother often used to tease him good-naturedly about the lady but he always insisted, with some embarrassment that it had all been so innocent. It was never an issue between them. Now read on: |
Pte. Joseph Hutt |
Things started to go a little sour for us and this did not pass unnoticed by our Czech friends. One day one of the leaders asked if we were ill. We told him we were suffering from a bad attack of nostalgia. He did not understand so we tried to explain about homesickness. He could not understand this at all.
“But this is your home now” he said.
I tried to explain to him that they had provided us with a house but that was very different from a home. I went on to explain that now that the war in Europe had turned in favour of the allies we were confident that we could get through to our own people and we would certainly like to try. He told us that there was still German resistance and that if we did try we would be very much on our own as they could not help us any further. Tim and I were more than willing to risk this and three days later amid great scenes of sentiment we were loaded with food and set out on the way back.
At first it was easy. The Czechs seemed to know our every movement and everywhere we went we were greeted as heroes and our paths made smoother. However, when we reached the border things began to get far more difficult. There were pockets of German troops scattered around and we had to take great steps to avoid them. We saw some very strange incidents during that journey.
Some of the things we did to survive I am not particularly proud of. Tim and I both had revolvers but no ammunition. We had also acquired some German money but found it impossible to purchase food since no one wanted it. So we had to resort to threats to obtain food. At one village we approached a large farmhouse and tried to bargain, using sign language, for two eggs. The German who lived there swore that there were no eggs and indicated that there were none for him and his family. As we left we were approached by a young girl who spoke very good English. It turned out that she had been at college in England before the war. She told us the German was not telling the truth. He was, in fact, an SS man and there was a large cellar beneath the house that was stocked with food. He used to entertain high-ranking officers there while most of the locals were starving. Indeed, the food had been confiscated from the people of the village.
We immediately retraced our steps and again demanded eggs but this time brandishing our revolvers. I actually felt sorry for the German’s wife because she looked absolutely terrified. We were duly taken down to the cellar and sure enough it was well stocked with food. We sent the girl to fetch the villagers and told them to help themselves. We actually left some German money behind for our eggs. The girl assured us that the food would be shared out fairly among the villagers and we left them with their cheers ringing in our ears.
We eventually reached another village or more accurately what used to be a village since only three buildings remained standing. The rest had been bombed flat. Using our pigeon German and sign language we ascertained that the locals had danced in the streets when they learned of the bombing of Coventry and now it had been their turn. It seemed like poetic justice to us at the time but I later had some feeling of remorse at the stupidity of war. When did two wrongs ever make a right?
We were lying low one day, when we were surprised by a German lad. We were on the perimeter of an airfield and we had counted eleven fighter planes. The lad who was quite chatty told us that there was no petrol for the planes. Literally as we watched three allied fighters swooped down and machine-gunned the eleven planes destroying them all. Unfortunately, one of the attacking planes was hit and we saw the pilot parachuting down some distance away. We thought seriously of trying to go to his aid when, suddenly, one of the other fighters landed in the flat field where the pilot had landed. From our vantage we saw the pilot of the downed plane struggle out of his parachute, run the other plane and clamber on board. The plane then took off. Instant rescue - what a lucky fellow!
One night Tim and I discussed our position. We were not so confident now since we still had a long way to go and began to wonder seriously if we should have waited to be rescued. The next day fate stepped and made up our minds for us. We came across a small car that still had a little petrol left in it. We got it started and without asking the owner’s permission it has to be said, drove a valuable thirty miles before the petrol ran out. It seemed this was our lucky day because a mile down the road we came across an airfield that was now in American hands. We made contact with one American who told us that if we were discovered we would have to go through a full and stringent vetting process but told us he would help us and he really did. He smuggled us onto a cargo plane that was taking unwanted materials back to a base. We were well hidden among the cargo. The GI also gave us both K rations and before we knew it we were airborne. Just after the plane landed at its destination we quietly slipped away and found a party of British troops we could easily mix in with. Apparently we were at Rheims. There were also literally thousands of German POWs. Most of them seemed very cheerful and they were even helping to run the camp. They seemed well clothed and fed to us.
It was here I met Adolf again.
One day a chap from the T&T Regiment showed me a watch with some minute writing etched on the back. I managed to secure a magnifying glass and could clearly make out the name “Adolf Heineker”. Could it possibly the same guard who had treated us so kindly back in the stalag? He had asked us to appeal for clemency for him when the war ended. The man who had the watch was from Wakefield and he showed us a piece of paper with the names of four POWs who had signed to ask for clemency for Heineker. My name was one of them! I told the Wakefield chap how kind Heineker had been and did he know his whereabouts? He explained that the watch could have changed hands several times but he would see what he could do. Some days later I was in the cookhouse when a German forced his way through to see me and I recognised him straight away. It was Adolf Heineker! He was delighted to see me and we were both astonished at the coincidence that had thrown us together again. I hoped to be able to repay some of kindnesses but time did not permit.
Suddenly there was great excitement at Rheims. We were to be flown back to England but reminded that we would be returning to duty to fight against the Japanese.
Never the less the great day had finally arrived.