As the post war period continued, I decided I also had to improve my English through my contact with the Americans and I was made organiser for displaced persons. There were a huge number of displaced persons in this part of Germany, Poles, French, Belgians, Dutch, some could return home some could not. I was responsible for some 1200 or so DPs. The Americans gave me a captured German 750cc motorcycle to allow me to do my job. I remember it well it was a belt-drive model. I could then go anywhere where there were Poles and help to translate. When the Americans moved out of the area, the British took over, and they put my motorcycle in the river! They said, “you don’t want a motorbike here, if you need to go anywhere, we’ll send a Jeep and a driver for you”
There were many small DP camps in the area, but this was not really working, in that it was difficult to deliver food to so many places. By now, the UN were involved in the relief work, as the many DPs suffered terrible conditions and many were starving. TB was rife in the camps. Much larger centralised camps were built, and I was ordered to go to Cologne. I was allocated to assist a British officer who was official interpreter for the British who were organising camps.
I’d been there about a week when I met a nice young girl, Erika. Her family had been wealthy before the war, and owned a big farm in Eastern Poland. She was an intelligent and lively girl, and I hung around with her for a while, but often she was ill. Her parents wrote to her and said that they hoped she would find herself a good husband while she was over in Germany. I think she was hoping that I would fit the bill for her! Well she was a nice girl, but I didn’t really want to get married just yet. Having been through what I had, I wanted to see the world a bit before I settled down.
One morning, I heard my name being called over the camp loudspeaker, I was being called to the office. My friends all assumed the worse and that I’d done something wrong! So still in my American uniform I walked confidently over to the office, walked in, saluted, and shook the hand of the officer in charge. He looked at me, and said “You’re Polish? He asked through the interpreter. “Yes sir, ”I replied, piling on the bullshit!
“How well known are you amongst the Poles in the camp?” he went on.
“Well” I replied, I’m not sure, but I know one thing, I brought 1200 people with me when I came over here, and they all know me”.
“Well that’s good, because there is a DP camp at Koln-Ossendorf for 12000 Russian POWs and soldiers. You speak German I understand?” “Yes Sir”, I replied. “German, Russian, French, Czec, Polish…” Oh, you’re a good man! Are you trying to learn English?”
“Yes Sir” I replied “I already know a few words….. “Sleep, Eat, Smoke,” and I smiled broadly at the officer.
The officer turned to his colleagues and said a few words, and turned back to me via the interpreter and said. “We are going to make you Commandant of Police for displaced persons at Koln-Ossendorf, the new camp. When the Russians return to Russia, this camp will be cleared out, and a new one created for Poles.” “Do you want the job?”
I shrugged and said, “Well if that’s what is to be, of course I will accept”
“Excellent!”
Replied the officer,
“We’ll give you a trial for a few weeks, and if you make a good job of it, we will make it permanent.”
The following day I collected my belongings together and went out to meet the Jeep that had been sent to pick me up. In the Jeep was the driver and one officer, a Scots major, complete with kilt, from the camp. He handed me a sheet of paper, and said “sign here” I signed up and we left for Ossendorf.
Friday 6 May 2011
(16) Fishing trips
With the war almost over, I stayed with the Americans billeted by the river Zik. I acted as their “speaker” for their operations to root out Nazi sympathisers, and liberate and collect POWs.
I learned a lot about the Americans in that time, particularly what great sportsmen they were. Their need to shoot and hunt was satisfied, but they needed the fishing as well. The absence of any fishing tackle was not seen as a disadvantage by my American friends, they devised a number of “novel” methods of catching fish.
One favourite involved overhead electric power cables. They would rig up connections from the cables and lower them in to the river. The resulting electric current in the water was enough to stun the fish and bring them to the surface. All that was left to do then was to scoop them up and throw them on the barbecue.
A more effective and dramatic, but rather less popular method with the MPs, involved tossing a live hand grenade in to the river. The effect was the same as the electric current but far quicker. Using this method, we caught fish by the box full, but the MPs got upset, because each time we did it they assumed that the camp was under attack.
Not all the Americans were interested in fishing, nor are their stories as humorous. I remember one little American soldier, he seemed like a quiet type. One evening asked me.
“Can you get me a date with a local girl?”
Close to us was the barrack with the Ukrainian girls. This was before the bombing took it out and killed most of them. They lived in desperate poverty in appalling conditions. I knew one quite well, and wanted to help her. Americans always had lots of cigarettes, money and chocolate and I was sure she’d be on to a good thing. I told her of this young American who was looking for a girlfriend. She liked the idea,
“Yes please, bring him here,” She said.
I brought the American, introduced them, and left them in the cellar of the barracks.
About two hours later I’d not seen either of them, so I thought I’d better go and see what had happened.
I went down to the cellar and saw the girl in the corner of the cellar, lying abused, bleeding and crying. She was in a terrible state. I had to call the ambulance to take her to hospital.
I never saw that American again, and I felt disgusted by what he did. I learned my lesson, as I know know that this sort of thing happened a lot during this time. Girls did things for money or food with no thought for the consequences. Venereal diseases were common amongst soldiers.
To try and control this, I remember with the British forces, we were given tablets to control our urges, but many of the troops pretended to take them and spat them out.
I was careful, and more interested in business and trying to make enough money to get to England to get involved in such things. I did my share of black market dealing, I must admit!
I learned a lot about the Americans in that time, particularly what great sportsmen they were. Their need to shoot and hunt was satisfied, but they needed the fishing as well. The absence of any fishing tackle was not seen as a disadvantage by my American friends, they devised a number of “novel” methods of catching fish.
One favourite involved overhead electric power cables. They would rig up connections from the cables and lower them in to the river. The resulting electric current in the water was enough to stun the fish and bring them to the surface. All that was left to do then was to scoop them up and throw them on the barbecue.
A more effective and dramatic, but rather less popular method with the MPs, involved tossing a live hand grenade in to the river. The effect was the same as the electric current but far quicker. Using this method, we caught fish by the box full, but the MPs got upset, because each time we did it they assumed that the camp was under attack.
Not all the Americans were interested in fishing, nor are their stories as humorous. I remember one little American soldier, he seemed like a quiet type. One evening asked me.
“Can you get me a date with a local girl?”
Close to us was the barrack with the Ukrainian girls. This was before the bombing took it out and killed most of them. They lived in desperate poverty in appalling conditions. I knew one quite well, and wanted to help her. Americans always had lots of cigarettes, money and chocolate and I was sure she’d be on to a good thing. I told her of this young American who was looking for a girlfriend. She liked the idea,
“Yes please, bring him here,” She said.
I brought the American, introduced them, and left them in the cellar of the barracks.
About two hours later I’d not seen either of them, so I thought I’d better go and see what had happened.
I went down to the cellar and saw the girl in the corner of the cellar, lying abused, bleeding and crying. She was in a terrible state. I had to call the ambulance to take her to hospital.
I never saw that American again, and I felt disgusted by what he did. I learned my lesson, as I know know that this sort of thing happened a lot during this time. Girls did things for money or food with no thought for the consequences. Venereal diseases were common amongst soldiers.
To try and control this, I remember with the British forces, we were given tablets to control our urges, but many of the troops pretended to take them and spat them out.
I was careful, and more interested in business and trying to make enough money to get to England to get involved in such things. I did my share of black market dealing, I must admit!
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