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.
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