Pilots_Journals_PG7_Schweinfurt

Pilot's Journals: Page 7

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Schweinfurt
by Robert (Bob) Slane, Col. (ret) USAF

BLACK THURSDAY:
AFTERMATH

COMMENTARY: This is a continuation of the experiences of Col Robert Slane that tell
about the Raid on Schweinfurt and his time as a POW.

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PRISONER ------STALAG LUFT III-------- ESCAPE

Note: this true story is a continuation of the "Review of Events" previously published under the title "Schweinfurt" by Robert M. Slane. That article is included in the "Stories" section of the 91st Bomb Group Web Site Master Copy.

After arrival at the rail station in Frankfort, we were marched through crowds of civilians to gain entrance to the main terminal. The guards were distributed along the slow moving line of prisoners and except for silent stares there was little reaction from the viewers. I felt particularly vulnerable with my strange attire and tried to keep my eyes focused on the line of prisoners ahead of me. I did note that the huge terminal was covered with a glass ceiling and I was surprised to see that, despite our bombing raid on the 4th of October, there was not a single broken pane of glass in this massive ceiling. This was a mystery to me as I was certain a rail terminal in Frankfort was the primary target on that date.
We boarded small railroad cars. There were no windows in the section utilized by the prisoners, but there was one small, iron-barred opening for ventilation on the outside wall. Two-man wooden, high-back bench seats, facing forward, were separated by a middle aisle. At the rear entrance was a small compartment that was utilized by the German guards. That compartment had a glass front view that permitted the guards to monitor prisoner activities. Across the aisle opposite the guard compartment was a small toilet-room. There was seating space for about forty prisoners. Bill Runner was seated just ahead of the guard compartment. I had hoped to get a seat with him, but by the time I boarded the adjacent seat was taken so I had to move forward to a seat in the middle of the boxcar. I wanted to hear the details of his capture, discuss our present situation and perhaps come up with some sort of escape plan.
It was relatively quiet in the rail car the first hour or so of travel. Each prisoner was facing an uncertain future; some were still recovering from injuries and others had not yet recovered from the shock of recent events. Death or severe injury to fellow crew members, survival of a parachute bailout or crash landing of an aircraft, capture and in some instances harsh treatment by the enemy and the recent period of solitary confinement had resulted in a sobering and deeply emotional response in all of us.
For the first time since capture we were offered food from Red Cross parcels and one of the guards distributing the food was friendly and very talkative. He announced that he had lived for many years in Chicago and he was interested in knowing if any prisoners were from Chicago. His friendly attitude and discussion with various prisoners produced a change in the mood of the majority of the prisoners and soon the prisoners were talking with the German guards and also relating their experiences with each other. Bill Runner, possessing an engaging and outgoing personality, entered the compartment where the guards were seated and was able to gain the information that we were being transported to a Prisoner of War camp at Sagan, Germany. The camp was an Allied Officer Prison primarily for air crew members and was located southeast of Berlin.
My own thoughts were centered on only one objective; to escape before arrival at the new prison camp. I was able to get Bill Runner�s attention and he came forward to my location. I told him that I was considering leaping out of the rear entrance of the railcar during one of it�s frequent stops and that I would need his help. It was obvious that I could not wear the Russian overcoat during any escape attempt. The weather was fairly mild outside but I would need a jacket of some type to wear over the heated suit. Bill volunteered his A-2 flying jacket. The guards, two of them, were sitting relaxed in their compartment and were eating and at times talking with various prisoners who were permitted to stand in the opening of the compartment. Their pistols were holstered and their rifles stacked in a corner. There were glass windows in the compartment and anyone seated near that compartment could see outside and determine whether or not the train was stopping at a station or pulling into a siding to permit another train to pass. Since he was seated near the compartment, Bill had the advantage of being able to see the outside surroundings and could signal me to go to the rear of the railcar. The plan was for him to engage the guards in conversation and I would leave my seat, walk down the aisle, and shove Bill into the compartment and in the subsequent confusion exit the train through the rear opening. I pointed out to Bill that he would probably be at greater risk than I, but he felt he could explain to the guards that he was an innocent victim. Bill Runner indicated that he would risk his life to help me.
Well, anyway, that was the plan. I put on Bill�s A-2 jacket and sat with my feet in the aisle. The overcoat was to be left behind. I could feel the adrenalin surging through my body as I sat there waiting for a signal from Runner. During this wait, two prisoners approached me. One was a navigator with his arm in a cast who had been seated with me and he was the spokesman for both men. He had overheard part of the discussion I had with Bill Runner and he was very agitated. He expressed the fear that if I escaped I would be jeopardizing the lives of all of the rest of the prisoners. It was his opinion that in all likelihood the guards would shoot the remainder of the prisoners. My initial reaction to his remarks was one of anger. I told him that if he was satisfied to be a prisoner, then so be it, but that all of us had a responsibility to escape if and when the opportunity presented itself.
I had to acknowledge to myself that I had given no thought, other than putting Runner in a precarious position, to the impact an escape attempt would have on the other prisoners. In fact, I just assumed they all felt as I did, but perhaps without the same conviction. Some were like the navigator, recovering from wounds and would be unable to escape; others were so traumatized by their experiences that they were satisfied for the time being just to be alive and out of solitary confinement. Still, I felt that each person had to make an escape decision for themselves and I had difficulty in accepting any other viewpoint.
The complaining navigator exchanged his seat next to me with another prisoner and it was obvious from his demeanor and actions that he was continuing to voice his fears to anyone who would listen. Bill Runner was aware that there was a problem of some sort and once again came up the aisle where we could talk. I told him of the dissention by my former seatmate and after further discussion with him I decided to delay any attempt to escape. I didn�t know whether or not that decision was based on the fearful attitude of a fellow prisoner or my own self doubts about my escape plan once it had been challenged. I really hadn�t focused on the danger to Bill Runner who would probably face retaliatory action by the guards if he allowed me to push him into the compartment. Although I had little doubt that I could successfully exit the train, I had no plan other then to disappear in the night and attempt to distance myself from the immediate area; travel at night, hide during daylight hours and I knew that I would need to eventually find water, food and clothing. The �blue long johns� would also need replacement.
Bill Runner returned to his seat, wearing his A-2 jacket. That was the only signal to those watching that there had been a change in plans. The dissenting navigator approached me wanting to talk, however I was in no mood for discussion and I waved him away. I was frustrated and angry with myself. I felt I was probably giving up my only chance to escape and I wasn�t certain just what part my own fear contributed to the decision to forfeit the escape attempt.
Several hours passed before I was able to shift my mind to other thoughts and finally, with my head resting on the bench back-rest, doze off to a fitful sleep as the train yawed back and forth making frequent stops in sidings to allow other train traffic to pass. The Russian overcoat served a useful purpose after all ; pillow, blanket and shock absorber.
It was late afternoon the following day before the train arrived at our final destination. We formed up in columns; joining other prisoners who were exiting their railcars. It was a short walking distance to the prison camp that was to be our new home. We entered an area called the �Outer Lager� for processing. Each prisoner was photographed and then handed a form to complete. The form had a Red Cross heading and according to our captors was required to be filled out in order for the Red Cross to verify our status. While others seemed to have no difficulty in completing the forms, I found that many of the questions were seeking information exceeding the �name, rank and serial number� response that had been our briefed guideline. I attempted to return the form with only basic information filled in. The form was returned to me with the warning that I would not be permitted to complete the processing until all of the information requested was supplied. The processing room emptied and I was the only prisoner remaining in the room. Finally, an English speaking man who claimed to be a Red Cross representative approached and informed me that I should provide the required additional basic information as that information was necessary to insure that I was who I said I was. He pointed out that a home address was necessary to insure proper notification by the Red Cross of my prisoner status. I remained skeptical, but finally provided some additional information that was not military related and the form was accepted.
The next step in processing was the issue of clothing -- G.I. winter trousers and shirt, winter long johns, socks and a heavy G.I overcoat. For bedding, each prisoner was provided two blankets, a straw pillow with cover, a mattress cover and a bed sheet. We were told that we would be assigned �permanent� living quarters in one of the long , low, buildings located within the South Compound, but for the first night we would have temporary quarters where ever there was available space.
We, the new prisoners, were taken to the entrance gate of the South Compound, Stalag Luft III, and were met by prisoner members of the Camp Staff who were appointed to assist us in finding a place to eat and bed-down for the night. Processing and assignment to more permanent quarters would be made the following day after our first �Appel� or roll-call. This first night, I was assigned to a room occupied by six people - all strangers to me. I slept on a mat on the floor and shared their food. The conversations that first night were guarded since I wasn�t certain what should be discussed and the occupants had to insure that I wasn�t a spy. I discovered that each new prisoner had to be interrogated and �cleared� by designated members of the prisoner staff before information considered �confidential or secret� could be discussed. There were matters concerning prisoner activities that had to be protected and some activities were handled by a strictly �need to know� rule. Bill Runner and I had finally arrived at Stalag Luft III. It was the 28th of October, 1943.
The next morning all of the new prisoners were directed to stay in one group for the nine o�clock body count - our first �Appel.� The remainder of the prisoner force formed up by individual barracks or �Blocks�. After the count and as the prisoners were dispersing, I was suddenly grabbed from behind in a �bear-hug.� The culprit was my good friend and pilot training classmate, Chester Lott. Chester�s crew was shot down during the mission to Kiel, Germany on 13 June, 1943. He was the co-pilot and this was the crew�s first mission. Prior to reaching the target three engines failed for no apparent reason and as the aircraft became a straggler, enemy FW-190�s and ME-110�s began a relentless attack forcing the crew to bail-out. Chester and his pilot, Lt. Robert Jackson, were captured as soon as their parachutes hit the ground. My German interrogator at the Dulag was correct when he informed me that Lott was a prisoner at a �permanent� camp.
My second surprise of the morning came when Joe Johnson, my co-pilot, emerged from the crowd of prisoners waiting to greet the newcomers. He had only spent two days at the Dulag in Frankfort before being released for transport to Stalag Luft III. Now, the only crew members unaccounted for were Glen Foster, the navigator and Charles Groth, the right waist gunner.
To accommodate the large influx of new prisoners it was necessary for each housing barracks or �block� to create additional bed space. This was accomplished by making tiers of bunk beds. Joe Johnson and I were assigned to Room-4,in Block 136. This was also Chester Lott�s room - shared with seven other prisoners. Our arrival increased room occupancy to ten. Joe had the lower bunk and I drew the upper one and neither of us complained. We were just grateful to finally be settled in a location where the occupants were considered friendly.

The first few days at Stalag Luft III were spent getting acquainted with those other prisoners assigned to Room 4, and receiving an indoctrination in the �Do�s and Don�ts� of prison life. The initial action by the American prison staff was to have an interrogator review the details of each new prisoner�s verbal description of the events that led to his becoming a prisoner and to verify his status. By the time I arrived at Stalag Luft III there were prisoners from most of the American flying units in the European Theater and it was not too difficult to determine whether a new prisoner was the person he claimed to be. Chester Lott provided additional verification for me.

We were fortunate in that we were able to benefit from the experiences and subsequent disciplines initiated by senior officers - British and American prisoners. Each barracks or �Block� as we would call them, had an assigned senior officer, generally a Major or Lt. Col. The compound commander was a Colonel. In the South Compound the senior officer was Col. Charles Goodrich. He had been a prisoner since September of 1942 and had arrived at Stalag Luft III in March of 1943. Included on the Staff of the senior officer was an officer appointed to head the �X� activity. Members of this committee managed a myriad of activities devoted to obtaining information, planning escape activities and hiding surveillance equipment. Unless approved by the �X� committee, prisoners were not permitted to attempt to converse with or otherwise associate with any of the guards.
The discipline and leadership by the senior American officers was reflected in all phases of life as a prisoner in the South Compound. Food distribution was organized and each prisoner had a part to play in sharing what goods and services were available. In each room of the blocks the prisoners shared responsibility for clean-up and cooking. A roster was utilized to assign duties of this type.
There was very little reference to grade or rank in my assigned room and I felt that was the case with the majority of the company grade officers in the compound. There was however a certain undefined courteous regard provided to those prisoners who had been imprisoned for a year or more. These prisoners were generally housed in the single or double rooms in the blocks and the impact of long imprisonment was occasionally reflected in their demeanor.
After several days of indoctrination and after receiving security clearance by the camp internal interrogators, we, the new prisoners, were allowed to listen to the daily �evening news�. The news was transported by special messenger to each �block�. Guards were posted at the entrance to the block and when clearance was received the appointed messenger would give his report. It was amazing to be able to hear up to date news about the war effort. Only those specifically cleared by the chief of the �X� activity were to relay this information and although the source of the news was from �BBC� in England, any discussion of how or where the information was received was forbidden. This activity as well as many others was known to only a few and all of us not directly involved were advised to have no discussion about how the news was obtained.

During the first week of incarceration at Stalag Luft III, I began a daily walk program that involved many circuits on a path inside the perimeter of the Stalag. The path was adjacent to the two foot wooden warning rail that maintained a separation distance from the outer perimeter fence. We were warned that all we had to do to get shot by a tower guard was to step across the short wooden fence in the direction of the outer double row barbed wire fence. This warning was part of our new prisoner indoctrination program.

The second week of imprisonment I made known my desire to participate in any activity that would provide an escape avenue. I was advised to contact Alvin �Sammy� Vogtle, an American Spitfire pilot, shot down in January 1943.Vogtle occupied the single room at the entrance to block 136 and I was told he was a representative of the �X� activity and could provide me with advice with respect to any escape plans. When I visited Sammy, I explained that I would be a volunteer �digger� or helper in any tunnel activity and I expressed to him my desire to escape by any means possible. Sammy advised me that my help would be welcomed, but that even if I worked on a tunnel I would not be permitted to escape if and when the tunnel was utilized as an escape vehicle. He went on to explain that it was the policy of the escape �committee� to utilize escape resources for only those specially designated persons who could speak German or a European language. Priority would also go to those who had been prisoners the longest. �As a relatively new prisoner with no foreign language capability, I was just not the type of candidate eligible for a tunnel escape.� Based on this information, I withdrew my commitment to assist in any tunnel work. I could understand why, with limited resources, the materials prepared for escape should be prioritized; however, I firmly believed that any one who participated in the risks of tunnel digging should not be denied the opportunity to escape after the �priority� people had departed through the tunnel. Needless to say, I was discouraged by the information just received, but there remained the option to seek approval of a plan not involving escape through an underground tunnel.

I felt it imperative to find someone who felt as I did. One who would be willing to take the time to work on a plan with me that might merit approval and support from the �Escape Committee�, or the �X activity.� I wasn�t certain of the procedures for approval but knew that any escape attempt would involve obtaining equipment that could cut through the mass of barbed wire in the two fences surrounding the compound. None of my seven roommates were ready to commit to participation in an escape attempt, but I had their assurances that if I ever came up with an approved plan, I would have their support in obtaining needed escape equipment.

As the weeks passed by - ever so slowly - life as a prisoner became fairly routine and the ever persistent thoughts of escape were tempered by a grudged acknowledgement that I wasn�t ready to attempt an escape without the moral and physical support of an accomplice.
The routine of prison life was interrupted by short periods of fear ,excitement, anticipation, despair or boredom. Daily physical activity was one way to combat the boredom and I resolved to try and stay as physically active as possible.
I helped Chester Lott plant tomato seeds in a small garden adjacent to our block. He had received the seeds in a letter from home. Thomas Decaro, a B-17 navigator, was the chief �tinsmith� in our room. He made most of the cooking pans and plates used by members of room - 4. He decided to make a set of �weights� for members of our room to use for exercise. I became his �first assistant�. The weights were made from Klim Cans (Powdered milk cans) all fastened together and then tightly rolled. A hickory broomstick, confiscated from the Cookhouse, served as our weight bar. Three of us in the room utilized the weights for twice daily exercise. Dale Perkins, a bombardier, was the third so-called �weight lifter.�
Dale Perkins had an extraordinary experience the day his aircraft was downed. The pilot of his B-17 directed him to place the arming pins back in the bombs in anticipation of a possible crash landing. The crash landing took place while Dale was still in the bomb bay holding a hand full of arming pins. He survived the crash landing without injury.
Robert Webster, the copilot on Tom Decaro�s crew, was also assigned to room 4, Block 136. He and Tom Decaro were the only survivors of their combat crew. Webster was captured on land near the coastal docks at Kiel, Germany. Decaro was picked up in the North Sea by a German patrol boat. To their knowledge they were the only survivors of their 10 man B-17 crew. It is interesting to note that the five crew members representing three different aircraft were all on the same mission to bomb the docks at Kiel, Germany on 13 June, 1943.
Two other prisoners assigned to room-4, Block 136 were also B-17 crew members on the same aircraft. Lawrence Connors, navigator, and Edward Goulz, bombardier, were shot down by enemy FW190�s and flak. They had been prisoners since 25 July 1943. Larry Connors was accepted as sort of the room-4 �boss.� He was 30 years old , a mature and serious man with a deeply religious outlook on life. A small Irishman with a great sense of honor and a great sense of humor.
Shot down on the 12 of August 1943, Walter Fergerson, was the 8th prisoner assigned to Room-4, Block 136, prior to my arrival with the group of new prisoners that included Joe Johnson and Bill Runner. Walter was a �book-worm� and he spent hours reading and studying the game of Chess. He was nicknamed the �Birdman� for some undisclosed reason.
The individual barracks ( Blocks ) were single story prefabricated wooden structures.. The interiors had never been finished and the wooden building studs were still exposed on the inside walls. There were rooms on either side of a middle corridor. Each building had an indoor latrine, a washroom with several basins and a small communal kitchen with a cook stove. The indoor latrine was only for use at night after the doors at both ends of the barracks were closed and barred shut from the outside. Latrine buildings caller the �Abort� were used by the prison population during the day. Small rooms at either end of the building were built to house one or two prisoners. One of the occupants was generally a senior officer considered to be the �block commander,� sometimes jokingly referred to as the �Fuhrer.� Each room contained a large window and all of the windows had functional shutters. Each barracks had about thirteen rooms including the smaller two man rooms.
It was within the confines of one of these rooms that a prisoner would spend a major part of his day, each and every day. The need for tolerance, understanding and a good sense of humor was essential to peaceful co-existence. We all knew that and with the �fatherly guidance� exercised by Larry Connors there were very few misunderstandings in Room-4, Block 136, South Compound.
With the colder months of winter approaching it was evident that we needed to try and �winterize� our room area with what ever was available. There was a small �pot-bellied� stove in each room; however the charcoal bricks issued by the Germans were not sufficient to keep the rooms warm. Each room had a daily scheduled time to utilize the cook stove located in the �community� kitchen and we elected to use our limited supply of charcoal for cooking purposes. A newspaper or paper of any sort was never discarded. I managed to sew newspapers between my two blankets and we were all grateful to the Red Cross for providing basic needs that included items like needles and thread. We used newspaper for filling cracks in the inside walls of the barracks. Many of those prisoners fortunate enough to arrive in prison with their flying jackets were able to sew layers of paper inside the lining of the jackets. Newspapers were a prized commodity.
Within the South Compound a band and choral group was organized. Bill Runner was an accomplished trumpet player and joined in when ever possible. The YMCA had provided musical instruments in sufficient quantity to make formation of the band possible. Christmas 1943 arrived, and we were rewarded with additional Christmas food parcels. It was a relatively festive time for some and John (Moose) Moss, a B-17 pilot from Des Moines, New Mexico, invited me to his room for a taste of raisin home brew. In the course of our conversation, John made the statement that we would �probably be doing this same celebration in Stalag Luft III in 1944�. I couldn�t accept even the thought of being a prisoner for another year. We made a $50.00 bet, witnessed by other brew tasters in room 3, the room adjacent to ours.
Christmas festivities were to cease early in block 136. On the night of 27th December we heard the air raid signals and all electricity to the barracks was shut off. Larry Connors was in one of the end rooms playing bridge with a foursome. Suddenly we were all startled by two loud gunshots. The sound was deafening and we thought the shots were made in our room. There were shouts in the corridor and when we opened the door to the corridor someone was rushing down the corridor path with a flaming news paper torch. The torch was quickly extinguished when someone shouted that the light could cause further gunfire. The shots had been fired into the end room where the card playing had been continued by candle light after the electricity had been turned off. Lt. Col. John Stevenson had been shot in both legs with the bone shattered in one leg. There was confusion and delay before the Germans arrived at the scene and transported Stevenson to a hospital. There was little sleep in Block 136 the remainder of the night.
Escape activity was a continuing occupation for many of the prisoners; however most of the work involved tunnel preparation. Except for an awareness that such activity was taking place, those of us not directly involved had no knowledge when or where the underground work was being accomplished. It was rumored that the Germans were aware of specific areas where tunnel activity was taking place but would wait until the tunnel work had progressed to near completion before suddenly arriving with a tunnel destruct team. The purpose for delay in destroying the tunnel was to further demoralize the prisoners who had spent months in preparing a tunnel for escape only to have their work destroyed in a less than an hour. No one had escaped by tunnel in the South Compound since it was opened for occupation in September of 1943.
We were awakened one morning by a flurry of activity in the room adjacent to ours (room- 3). It seems that John Lewis, an occupant of room 3, had participated in an escape. John, a P-39 pilot, was shot down in March of 1943 by an enemy Me-109 pilot. He was captured by �unfriendly� Arabs in North Africa. John and another prisoner had spent months making a hinged ladder. This ladder had been hidden in the attic in our Block (136) and had been placed in a position where it appeared to be part of the roof structure. On the night of the escape we had a severe thunderstorm and there had been a power outage. John and his friend were dressed in black clothing as they made a run to the perimeter fences. The hinged ladder served its purpose - the first section reached the top of the inside fence and the hinged portion went over the top covering the space between the two fences. John�s friend made it across the double fence, he dropped down over the outside fence and disappeared in the adjacent wooded forest. John was not so fortunate. As he attempted to cross over the top of the two fences, the ladder broke and John fell into the mass of barbed wire between the two fences. Discovered by the guards, John was forced to remain in the location between the two fences until daybreak. When the power was restored after the heavy downpour , the tower guards on either side of his location kept their searchlights focused on him. Since the ladder pieces had also fallen into the area where he was trapped, John had visible evidence that the ladder had been previously cut by a saw and only a small section was left uncut. The cut area had been filled in with some sort of putty. It was obvious that the ladder had been discovered earlier by the Germen �Ferrets� and left in place to foil any attempt to escape. What the Germans didn�t count on was one escapee making it over the fences before the ladder collapsed. John was extricated from the fence area at daybreak with many cuts and bruises. He was then escorted to the �cooler� where he served time in solitary confinement. His companion was free for several days before capture at a border crossing.
One other prisoner succeeded in escape from the South Compound prior to March of 1943. I never knew the details except that he was somehow able to exit the compound by hiding in an area under the horse drawn vehicle used to siphon waste materials from the latrines. These vehicles were referred to as the �Honey Wagons.� This prisoner was also captured and returned to prisoner status.
On the 26th of March.1944 we awakened to the news that there had been a mass breakout of British prisoners from the adjacent North Compound. Eighty eight (88) prisoners were reported as having escaped and the news generated excitement and joy throughout the prison population. With this news there was also a change in the mood and demeanor of our captors. For the next three days after the escape we were subjected to sudden , no-notice, Appells or prisoner body counts. Prisoners were forced out of their barracks while the Germans conducted numerous searches in each block. The �Ferrets� crawled under the floors probing the ground with long screw drivers. The attics all received special attention and the walls in every room were checked in an effort to find hidden items that might be used in an escape attempt. On the second day of the no -notice prisoner counts each block commander in the South Compound passed the word that we, the prisoners, were to disrupt the count with slow movement to the parade ground. After straggling into the parade ground, we all meandered around, shifting position in the columns thus making an accurate count impossible. The German officer conducting the count finally gave up and departed the parade grounds. A second count was initiated a short time later with the same results. The conversation between the German Commandant and Col. Goodrich, our senior officer ,was not discernable; however some members of our block heard the words �We will be back.�
It was later in the afternoon that we witnessed several vehicles, carrying weapons, pass through the gates and proceed on to the parade ground. Ground-mounted machine guns were placed at four locations surrounding the area where the prisoner count was to be conducted. Each gun was manned by two soldiers. As this action was taking place on the ground ,we noticed that every guard tower was being reinforced with an additional occupant and the weather cover that normally protected their machine guns had been removed. Each guard in the tower was also equipped with a rifle. All weapons were pointed in our direction. It was a chilling, sobering experience. We received the word from Col. Goodrich that the �passive resistance� was over. The directive did not require repeating; the German commandant had clearly made his point. The prisoner count and subsequent prisoner counts were conducted in an orderly manner.
It wasn�t until the first week in April,1944, that we were informed that the majority of the escapees from the North compound had been captured and that 50 men had been murdered on orders from the German High Command. Many of those prisoners shot were captured early in the war and had been prisoners for several years. This unpredictably action by the Germans was devastating news to the prisoner population and there was no easy way to overcome the profound effect the deaths of these men had on their close friends and the entire prison population.
An air-raid warning sounded shortly afternoon on Easter Sunday, 9 April,1944. Some prisoners were just returning from a church service. The murder of the British prisoners was still the main topic of discussion. I had been walking the perimeter circuit when the siren sounded and I scurried to return to block 136. The German guards wanted us inside a building anytime there was indication that there was an air attack in the vicinity. I had just entered the building and was in the corridor when someone shouted �look out for a Goon with a gun.� The warning was in reference to a perimeter guard. This guard had his rifle resting on the outside perimeter fence and was aiming at a target within the compound. I darted into our wash room and looked out the window. There he was, calmly sighting his rifle at some object within the compound. I dropped out of sight fearing he might turn his sights on me and raced to the front entrance of our block where I might be able to see where he was aiming. When I arrived at the entrance to our building, I looked in the direction where it appeared he was aiming and saw a man leaning against the door jamb of the cook-house. I heard the shot and I watched in shock as the man in the doorway suddenly grabbed his throat, stumbled forward out of the doorway, took two steps and fell, face downward. I had just witnessed a cold blooded murder. Part of the horror of this murder is that no one could go forward to provide assistance.
When the �all-clear� sounded I was one of the first to reach the body of the dead soldier. I didn�t know his name but I recognized him as one of the enlisted prisoners who volunteered to work in the �communal� kitchen. His name was Corporal C.C. Miles and he was an infantry soldier. Cpl Miles was captured by Arabs and turned over to the Germans in February, 1943. He was buried in the POW cemetery at Sagan, Germany. I will never forget him and I will never forget the way he died.

I received my first letters from home on the 19 of April, 1944. It was one of the best days of my prison life. Joe Johnson and Bill Runner had been receiving mail since the latter part of February so I knew my mother had been in contact with their families. Six months was a long time to wait for direct word from home but arrival of six letters at one time erased all the negatives of the past. I had been mailing four postcards and three letters monthly to loved ones at home since arrival at Stalag Luft III. At long last I was receiving mail - it was a day to celebrate.