CHAPTER 7 - THE HOAX
“We are betrayed by what is false within.”
The tide of the war was turning but for us POW’s there was little respite. We were deposited on a site that was, in fact, nothing but a bog and conditions were simply awful. Our cover was an Italian groundsheet and our beds were boards with a sparse covering of straw. Sanitary arrangements were crude in the extreme, the rations awful and the attitude of our Italian guards bordering on the inhuman. |
Pte. Joseph Hutt |
I remember one day an official of the Catholic Church was due to visit us accompanied by an Italian officer. We were made to clean up the camp as best we could and waited. We watched the road that led over the hill and to the camp for ages and at last saw a motorcade. About a quarter of the way down the hill it suddenly stopped. It then turned around and left. It transpired that one look at the camp had been enough to condemn it out of hand and they were certainly not going down there among the mosquitoes. Three days later we did get a visitor. He was from Switzerland and represented the Red Cross. He too was appalled at the conditions. At least he promised to get us some cigarettes and parcels and also to make arrangements for our mail to be sent. He was true to his word and soon cigarettes arrived along with some mail. Two weeks later Red Cross parcels arrived – what joy! I can hardly explain what they meant to us, a welcome addition to our meagre rations. Included was sugar from South Africa, which we were told to eat like a sweet since our bodies had been so starved of sugar that we needed to make up the deficiency.
Suddenly the atmosphere in the camp changed. Our rations were increased, not by a lot but an increase never the less. In fact Italian civilians were now being treated no better than us. The guards became increasingly more civil and tolerant toward us.
Our favourite guard had lived in Malta for some years and spoke a little English. He told us that the Italian people had been literally coerced into joining the Axis. It was a big mistake he told us and now they were paying the price. Italian morale was very low and there was great disillusionment with Mussolini. Then one day he informed us that he had heard that Italy had asked for terms of surrender. He also informed us that one of the terms was that all prisoners of war were to be released. We simply could not believe him but suddenly things started to change.
Two days later we were assembled and classified. A card was given to us and on it were our names, number, regiment and any specialities we had such as drivers, gunners etc. Then we were split into groups. Something was happening. “Our” guard then told us that the Italians were clamouring to surrender en masse and they would get their way. We reckoned the obvious problem was that freeing all POW’s would release more troops to fight against their Axis partners.
Suddenly one afternoon we were told that all POW’s with certain numbers were to assemble at 5am the next morning. An unearthly hour it may well have been but there were no grumbles from us because there was a strong rumour we were to be freed. Next morning we paraded as ordered and stood shivering in the bitterly cold air. We were issued with a blanket and a small parcel of food, which we were told had to last for the next two days. We then marched, yes marched, but with heads held high along the long winding road out of the camp. However we were all very weak and the road seemed terribly long and uphill at that. Suddenly someone produced a mouth organ and started belting out British Army marching tunes. Our steps became much more jaunty then.
We were marched to the local railway station and literally herded onto a train. It was grossly overcrowded in every carriage and to make matters worse the one guard allocated to each carriage put a blanket against the windows so that we could see nothing of the outside world. What did we care, we were going home. Suddenly we were all thrown off our feet as the train started with a violent jerk.
For the first six hours the journey was uneventful. Then the guard told us it was mealtime. Our meal was very frugal and most of us broke into the next days ration. We even began to regret that we had left Red Cross parcels with our colleagues who had been left behind at the camp. We folded our blankets to give us some cushion against the slatted seats, which so jarred our weary bones. Sleep was impossible. Then the train ground to a standstill and as the guard lifted a corner of the blanket at the window we could see that it was dusk and we were in a siding.
We sat there for half an hour and nothing happened. Even the guard knew nothing. Suddenly there was movement back on the main line. We crowded around the carriage window and watched as four train loads of Italian soldiers rolled past us. Some were leaning out of the window, thoroughly dejected and looking every inch a beaten army on the retreat. Our train was shunted out of the siding and our journey started again. During the next two days there were frequent similar stops much to our annoyance because our rations had all gone and so had those of the guards.
Most of us were dozing when we were started by a cry of “wakey wakey”. It was “our” guard who had been sent along as interpreter. He immediately took down the blankets from the windows and what a sight greeted our weary eyes. Dawn was breaking and we were stationery in a small station. Towering above on both sides were steep wooded slopes. The sun was slanting through the topmost branches of the trees and it is if a million diamonds were glistening on the slopes. There were a myriad of colours and we could pick out the picturesque chalets dotted around. It was a quite beautiful sight and most of us were truly spellbound. I will never forget the moment when the guard said, “Gentlemen, you are free”. Gentlemen indeed.
However we were still rather sceptical - it was just too good to be true. Then we saw that the Italian guards were being marched away. Our interpreter jumped down from the train. My friend, Ben Appleyard, followed him. Suddenly there was shot and Ben jumped back on the train. He had been shot in the arm. Then we saw them. Lined all along the platform were machine guns and in-between German soldiers with rifles pointed at us. We rushed to the opposite window only to see the same sight. Our interpreter shouted out, “Sorry gentlemen, the Germans have recaptured you.”
It was all prearranged!
Were we ever really free? The Italians had told us we were to be free and we had believed them. We had been the victims of a cruel and vicious trick – a hoax! By being promised freedom we had gone along with everything. What would have happened if we had caught on? Could the demoralised Italians have contained us? We shall never know.
So I went back to more months of captivity but sometimes in my quieter moments it comes back to me and I can still feel the elation of that beautiful morning in the Brenner Pass.