Library Reference Number: 112
A P.O.W. AIR GUNNER
Albert Gunn volunteered for aircrew in 1943 and commenced Initial Training at Bridlington followed by Elementary Air Gunnery School at Bridgenorth in Shropshire and then to Dalcross near Inverness for Browning gun practice flying in Avro 'Ansons' from which he qualified as an Air Gunner with the privilege to wear an AG brevet and to 'put up' his sergeant's stripes. His Operational Training was carried out at Lossiemouth on Vickers Armstrong Wellingtons' before converting onto 'Halifax' heavy bombers at Riccall near Selby from where he eventually posted to join No. 51 Squadron at Snaith, not far from Riccall. The story continues in Albert's own words.
"We were listed on the Battle Order for 29th December (1943). This was to be the eighth of a series of heavy raids on Berlin. The force was made up of 457 'Lancasters', 252 'Halifaxes' and 3 'Mosquitoes'. The route was virtually straight in over Holland to a turning point north of Leipzig, then the bombing run to Berlin. We were briefed and enjoyed our bacon and egg pre-flight meal, and then it was down to the crew room to get dressed. One of my duties was to collect 2 pigeons in containers, which each aircraft carried on the basis that, should we ditch in the North Sea, we could send off a pigeon with our position. I am afraid that none of us had much faith in surviving a ditching in the North Sea in winter and waiting for a pigeon making its way back to Yorkshire.
We had flying suits issued but most of us found them too bulky and restricted movement. I wore the issue thermal vests and long johns, then my normal shirt and tie, two sleeveless pullovers, the normal issue sleeved pullover and normal trousers. I wore normal socks, and then electrically heated slippers covered by the heavy white woollen seaman's stockings, which folded over fur-lined boots. I then donned an electrically heated waistcoat on top of which I wore a white polo necked sweater and, finally, my battledress uniform jacket. I had heated gloves, covered by a pair of fine nylon gloves and then leather gloves.
As we would be flying over the North Sea, we had to wear Mae West life jackets and, finally, our parachute harness with which we used a chest pack. The harness had to fit properly especially between the legs but this was uncomfortable for a long flight and many crewmembers left the straps loose. In an emergency, the time taken to fasten them could mean the difference between life and death. Keeping warm was a constant battle and both gunners had the problem that, although body, hands and feet had the benefit of heated units, legs and arms did not.
We took off just before dark and everything went smoothly. We had maximum loading of fuel and bombs and we were soon climbing through cloud on course for the Dutch coast. We had no problems until nearing the German border with Holland, an aircraft quite close to us, was attacked by a fighter and returned fire. Not long after this incident, the engineer reported we were losing power in our starboard outer engine and this became sufficiently serious to close the engine down and feather the propeller to avoid drag. As we were in a stream of over 800 aircraft, we decided to carry on with three engines and, in fact, were able to continue until we began to lose power on the starboard inner engine. With this obviously serious situation, we started to lose height and decided we had no choice but to turn back. By this time we were well into Germany and could see the defences of Hanover in action on our port side but, despite jettisoning our bomb load, we could barely maintain our altitude. We were uncertain of our actual position and thought we were over Holland and Andy Baird, our pilot, was having great difficulty controlling the aircraft and it was decided we had to abandon it. First to bale out was Pilot Officer Coryton, as the only officer in the crew and had taken the place of our sick' bomb-aimer who was in hospital. I left my turret and collected my parachute pack, sadly leaving the pigeons to their fate.
I slipped on the 'chute and, to my horror, the pack landed on the floor having pulled out the straps which, in theory, do not come undone until after the parachute opens. I folded them as best I could, holding the lot to my chest and then had to negotiate the main spar, climb down under the cockpit instrument panel, into the nose. I noticed the altimeter showed just over 2,000 feet and only the wireless operator and the pilot were left.
I was faced with a very draughty, black hole in the floor and without hesitation, sat down, made sure I had the parachute handle in one hand and, holding the pack as tight as I could, thrust myself out. I had a vague impression of the tail going past and pulled the handle. My parachute opened with a jerk, which gave me a very stiff neck for some days and I found myself falling gently in cloud with no idea what was waiting at ground level.
It only seemed seconds after my parachute opened that I heard the aircraft seemingly come back towards me but, in actual fact, it was going into a dive towards the ground, which it hit with a tremendous explosion. I doubted that Jack and Andy could both have escaped from the aircraft. I started to swing at the end of my parachute and, when trying to stop the swinging, I suddenly saw some darker area to my right and hit the ground with a thump at the edge of a field. The cloud base had been almost to ground level and it was pouring with rain. I quickly gathered my 'chute and harness together and tried to hide it as best I could in some shrubs and bushes. A vehicle on the road only a few yards away suddenly lighted up the area.
We had been instructed to make away from the area where the aircraft had come down and I could see from the glow of the crash in the distance so I headed off in the opposite direction still with the idea that I might be in Holland and could, perhaps, make contact with the Resistance. I could hear music as I approached what turned out to be a village and a dance was in full swing. It was about 7.30 pm and the bomber stream was still flying overhead towards Berlin. I crept past a courting couple at a comer by walking through some gardens and made my way out of the village on the opposite side and on into the country. I looked for somewhere to shelter for the night but any place I approached seemed to be well protected by barking dogs. I had walked for some hours when I realised that someone was following me. When I stopped, they stopped. We continued in this way until I could see that I was approaching a tee junction and would have to go right or left. On my left, just short of the junction, was a large tree so I quickly moved behind it so that I could see what my follower would do.
I was immediately aware that something was wrong when a torch was shone in my face and a rifle could be seen in my chest. I was aware of a man in uniform but could not make it out apart from a small button at the front of his hat coloured, I thought, red, white and blue. I thought they were the colours of Holland and said to him "Dutch?" to which he replied, "Va". At that point the person following me approached and my "friend" issued an obvious challenge, to which a woman's voice replied. The guard was German and obviously thought I had said "Deutsch", to which he correctly replied "Va". He quickly searched me and my bar of chocolate, reserved for the flight home, went into his pocket. The woman disappeared to return with a group of armed men. One, with a Luger pistol, had no doubts as to what should be done with me but, fortunately, the Police Chief was also present and we proceeded towards the village where we tried to waken one person up by throwing stones at his bedroom window, without success. We carried on to a small store where they managed to waken the occupants. They were after using the telephone to report my capture and, whilst the owner cranked the handle of his old fashioned telephone, a commotion started further down the hall. Eventually two women appeared, virtually dragging a very frightened girl of about 14 years of age, who was literally shaking. She must have known some school English and was pressured by the adults to question me. The first question was "American?" then "Canadian?", "English?" to all of which I replied "No". She gave up at that and escaped back down the corridor. I must have been a frightening sight to her as my face was dirty, scratched and bleeding from landing through the bushes.
Our next stop was the local Police Station where the Police Chief acquired a dry coat and we were shown into the kitchen where a large stove gave off a wonderful heat. I started to steam in minutes as, by then, I was soaking wet. The policeman was fairly elderly, as was his wife. Sitting at the table was a middle-aged couple trying hard not to look at me. I was astounded when the door burst open and a young boy of about 14/15 years old came into the room wearing a swastika armband and gave the Nazi salute, to which all the adults stood up and responded. The boy spoke reasonably good English and demanded to know where my comrades were. I replied that they were all dead. He quickly responded by saying that that was not true as they had already captured some of them. I thanked him and it dawned on him what he had given away.
My next stop was the local telephone exchange but now under guard of two soldiers. I had been told to stand in the centre of the room whilst they occupied the only two chairs. By then I was getting very tired, as it was now almost 3 am. I edged back to a table and managed to half sit and must have dozed off when I felt a wallop and landed on the floor. One of the guards was standing over me but, on the intervention of the other guard, he left me lying there, which suited me fine. Eventually, a Volkswagen Beetle arrived and we all piled in but then had to get out to push it. Next stop was Beilefeld Town Hall, which was a reception centre for shot down aircrew and I immediately spotted Coryton, our bomb-aimer, who called out that all the German officers spoke English. I was searched and then handed over to two Luftwaffe officers who were to escort me to the Luftwaffe aerodrome at Guterslow, where I was placed in a cell. Later that day two guards escorted me to the main building which entailed marching across the parade ground where all the windows around the square seemed to be filled by cheering, or jeering, Luftwaffe airmen. Both guards were quite short and I stepped out to get off the parade ground as quickly as possible, so I suppose it looked quite funny.
After interrogation, which included an attempt to get him to sign a form giving details which included Squadron and aircraft type, supposedly to obtain Red Cross parcels and with which he refused to comply, Albert was sent to Stalag IVB Prisoner of War camp. He continues in his own words.
"It was dark as we approached Stalag IVB and the weather was very cold with slush on the ground. We could see dozens of figures at the wire, all shouting and waving, but could not understand what they were trying to convey to us by their signs. We were soon to find out. We were marched into the de-lousing area which meant stripping completely and all the clothes were put through a chamber where they were exposed to chemicals which killed off unwelcome 'visitors'. We were ordered into a room with shower heads on the ceiling and had to wash thoroughly, which was very welcome, and then into the next room where warm air dried us off. Two Italian POW's were waiting to give us typhus vaccinations, which seemed to us very crude. One scratched your arm with what looked like a pen nib and the other daubed on some paste. I managed to dodge that particular operation which made some men quite ill. The Russian hairdresser you could not miss. He sat with his cutter and we all had our hair removed which, of course, you could not hide. The real horror came when the clothes came from de-lousing and I, like many others, found my flying boots missing, taken by the Germans for soldiers serving on the Russian front. That was what the shouting was all about when we entered the camp. The choice of footwear left to us was wooden soles with a piece of material to put your foot into - useless for the camp conditions.
The Stalag was situated on the east bank of the Elbe near a town called Muhlberg. It was a transit camp for working parties going out to work for the Germans, in theory, on non-military jobs. As aircrew were all sergeants or above we were not allowed to be used in this way. Being billeted with mainly army personnel, many of whom had been POW's for some time, led to quite a lot of friction as discipline in the RAF was much slacker. At morning roll call, we tended to mess about, always being last to fall in and often the guards had to go into the huts in search of late sleepers. This, of course, led to the whole parade being kept waiting in the cold for long periods.
For the first six months we had a fairly regular supply of Red Cross parcels, which was really a life saver. Usually issued on a Monday we were also allocated 50 cigarettes each and, as Jack was the only smoker in our group, we put 25 cigarettes into a pool to buy extra food and we each had 25 to spend as currency in the camp. Gerry and I usually bought a bar of chocolate which was contained in the Canadian parcels and, when available, a loaf of bread for 50 cigarettes out of the pool to be shared by the three of us. The bread we tried to buy was smuggled into the camp by various people, mainly French prisoners who went out to work daily in Muhlberg. We also 'bought' from Russians who were employed in the never-ending job of pumping the 'dry' cesspit toilets into a large barrel shaped container on wheels and pulling it into the countryside and spraying it over the fields as manure. They were known as 'Scheissen Torpedoes' and it was easy to realise that the camp could be located in the dark by the awful odour which surrounded it. We went off dealing with the Russians when we found out that they were smuggling in the bread suspended in the 'Torpedoes'. As all deals were done in the dark, one or two people were caught out by exchanging their cigarettes for a loaf and when they got back to camp, finding the inside had been scooped out and stuffed with a piece of rag leaving only the crust.
Life progressed through 1944 with, of course, the highlight being 'D' Day on the 6th June and our thoughts turned to being home by Christmas. We were kept up to date with the news each evening by a radio in the camp for which the Germans were constantly on the search, fortunately without success. The search team was led by a guard nicknamed Alpine Harry as he always carried a climbing axe. He would choose some unfortunate's bunk and tear it apart in his futile search.
During the summer of 1944 an event took place which caused us some upheaval. A New Zealander, named Ward, had escaped from a camp in Italy and had joined a partisan group in the mountains. He was eventually captured by the Germans who considered him a criminal and he had been charged with murder. He was due to stand trial at a civil court in Dresden which was about 20 miles from our camp. The bulk of the RAF prisoners were in a compound of eight huts and, on the morning Ward was due to go to Dresden, he was taken to the de-lousing chamber to be freshened up for his journey. The route from the punishment cell to the showers meant crossing the camp main road and as he returned with his guard, dozens of RAF prisoners surrounded him and, eventually, when the main guard was called out and order restored, Ward had disappeared.
One morning, roll call was called as usual with the normal casual response until, on leaving the hut, we found each hut surrounded by SS troops with machine guns covering the whole compound. The black uniforms and aggressive attitudes made us realise that this was serious and we were instructed to parade with all our belongings ready to move out. We had to go before a group of Gestapo sitting at a table who checked us off against our photographs. We were then told to make our way to the far end of the camp near the main entrance and move into huts vacated by Dutch POW's. All the Germans' efforts were in vain as Ward was not found and, in fact, lived the rest of the time in captivity in the camp:
Albert continued to endure POW camp life with its ups and downs, the 'ups' being receipt of the occasional Red Cross parcel and 22 letters on his 20th birthday, and the 'downs' being discovery of an escape tunnel when it was collapsed by a tractor which fell into it, the need to sleep three in a side by side double bunk when 100 Americans were added to the occupancy of each hut and an attack on the camp by two American 'Mustangs' killing four prisoners and injuring eight. On the 23rd April 1945 a lone Russian army horseman rode into the camp heralding the replacement of German guards by Russians. Albert continues his account of what then transpired.
"Despite our hopes of getting home quickly and countless rumours, nothing happened. On the 1st May the Russians put up some decorations to celebrate May Day and proceeded to have a party in the old guard block. Many of us took the opportunity to raid the office block and remove all our records which, in the case of the RAF men, included photographs. The Russians were most upset and insisted that we all fill in new forms giving personal details. I often wonder what some poor Russian clerk made of it all, as nobody gave their real name or address in the UK as requested. Days went by with food again the prime concern, and to go from the camp. Scrounging became a dangerous game. The Americans were moved out on the 2nd May but by 4th May rations were raw potatoes and still no light or water in the camp.
On Sunday, 6th May, we left Stalag IVB at last at 2.30 pm. We crossed to the west bank of the Elbe at Strehla and arrived at Riesa about 7.30 in the evening. We were astonished to be welcomed by the Germans with cold drinks and invitations to their homes, and our group of five peeled off into the home of a lady with a mentally handicapped daughter. The reason for the invitation became only too apparent when we saw how the Russian army of occupation conducted itself. Any woman of any age was fair game for the soldiers and the women had found that having an Allied serviceman in their house meant that a Russian would not enter.
A force of Russians with green bands on their caps moved into town and quickly asserted their authority over everyone. All Allied POW's were rounded up and billeted in an ex-German Panzer unit barracks, unfortunately without any beds and we had to sleep on the floor. Food was still scarce and we set off on the scrounge for provisions. Gerry and I found some allotments where we acquired some vegetables and Gerry used his country skills by obtaining a rabbit from a hutch in one of the gardens. Potatoes were found by some of the others and Jack located a cider factory, to which Cyril and I returned and obtained a jar of cider. The factory had two very large tanks where we assumed the cider was allowed to ferment and when we arrived two Russian soldiers were sitting by the outlet valves trying to get cider to drink. One of the soldiers got impatient and riddled the tank with his sub-machine gun and we left them with cider pouring out of the tanks up to their knees and happily scooping it up and drinking it. The date was 8th May and we listened to Churchill giving his famous speech before settling down to our celebration dinner.
To say the dinner was unforgettable would be an understatement as I have never been so sick in my life. The rabbit was not cooked enough, the dehydrated potatoes were 'off and the cider was raw. Whatever the reason, I have never knowingly eaten rabbit again. To make things worse, the Russians, who had now put a guard on our billets, celebrated VE Day by firing off a large quantity of captured ammunition which was lying all over the place. They seemed to take great pleasure in firing at the barracks windows which, in our miserable state, meant getting to the toilet was difficult.
It was the 23rd May before a fleet of American army lorries arrived and transported Albert and his POW colleagues to an airfield at Halle, near Leipzig, where they were properly fed and accommodated until, two days later, 100 'Dakotas' arrived at the airfield to fly them to Brussels from where they were flown in 'Lancasters' to Oakley and thence by train to a t