Jeffers,WW (Navigator,613th)

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           Also, 43-38187 IN-C Carrie B III page appears to be missing. Will need to determine why and create a new page.
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== Service during the War ==
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2nd Lt William W. Jeffers flew 1 mission: 02/16/1945, mission #209, where his aircraft [a038187|43-38187 IN-C Carrie B III] was shot down. He was taken prisoner. 

He served as a Navigator.
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=== Recorded Missions ===
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'''OUR POW STORY'''

''As recalled by Bill Jeffers''
 
Our 8th Air Force B-17G crew was assigned to the 401st Bomb Group, 613th Squadron located at Deenethorpe, England.  On February 16, 1945 our group participated in a mission to bomb an oil refinery at Gelsenkirchen, Germany.  The identity and positions of our crew on that mission was as follows:
 *Pilot - 1st Lt. Jeff N. Donalson, 0710465  Tulsa, OK
  Co-pilot - 2nd Lt. Charles R. Wilson, (?)  Monrovia, CA
  Navigator - 2nd Lt. William W. Jeffers, 02072764  Glen Allen, VA
  Waist Gun. - S/Sgt. Michael Gagich, 33683670  Sharon, PA
  Radio Oper. - S/Sgt. Gerald S. Harvey, 17136337  St. Joseph, MO
  Togglier/T. Gun - S/Sgt. Richard L. Summers, 34516656  Miami, FL
  Top T. Gun. - S/Sgt. William O. Streuter, 37402761  St. Louis, MO
  Ball T. Gun. - S/Sgt. Adelbert D. Shereck, 36641610  Chicago, IL
  Tail Gun. - S/Sgt. Jack M. Harrington,  38569129  Oklahoma City, OK
 
 *Lt. Donalson was substituting that day for our regular pilot, Lt. Thurman Geren,
  who was in the base infirmary with influenza.
 
Our plane, the "Carrie B. III", was scheduled as a "spare" for that mission, which meant that we were to accompany the 401st Group formation only as far as the Dutch coast unless some other plane had to abort prior to that point.  As it turned out, another plane did abort and we filled in.  As we neared the target area, the flak became quite heavy.  Shortly after turning onto the bombing run, we lost two of our engines due to flak damage.  We managed to drop our bomb load onto the target as did the balance of the formation.  With the reduced power we were unable to keep up with our group formation and fell further and further behind.  Also, we gradually lost altitude as we attempted our return toward England.  As we proceeded alone, we attempted to lighten our load by jettisoning everything that could be pulled loose that wasn't absolutely needed (including our co-pilot's crushed hat, which he treasured immensely).  Approaching the Dutch coast, a third engine failed and we started losing altitude much faster.  Realizing that we could not make it across the North Sea to the English coast, our pilot elected to turn south in an attempt to reach allied held territory in Belgium.  We made this turn approximately 10 miles off the Dutch coast to stay out of range of land-based enemy guns.  It was soon apparent that we would have to ditch in the North Sea.  Our radio operator transmitted a distress message to Air-Sea Rescue, giving our position.
 
All the crew donned "Mae Wests" and, with the exception of the pilot and co-pilot, took ditching positions against the forward bulkhead of the radio compartment after first jettisoning the radio hatch cover.  The "Gibson Girl" emergency radio was purposely not tossed out before impact because we had no idea how far away it would be from wherever we would come to rest after ditching.  Our intention was to carry it out when we evacuated the plane.
 
The actual ditching at about 1530 hrs. was totally different from all that we had been trained to expect.  The plane hit the water tail first which caused the tail to bounce upward and force the nose down.  The plane dove into the water briefly submerged.  Water poured in through the open radio compartment before the plane floated back to the surface.  To our amazement, we saw that the fuselage had partially broken apart just aft of the radio compartment and water was surging through that opening.  The right-hand raft was successfully released, but the crumpled skin of the plane prevented release of the left-hand raft.  The plane was filling too fast for any of us to give attention to retrieving the "Gibson Girl" emergency radio.  All thoughts were on getting out while there was still a chance to do so.  The last one of us was just sliding off the wing into the water when the plane disappeared beneath the surface.  By some miracle, the only noticeable casualty among us that I can recall was a head laceration suffered by either Bill Streuter or Al Shereck when their head punched a hole in the plywood door in the forward bulkhead in the radio compartment. 
 
It was probably an hour or more before all nine crewmen finally climbed or were pulled into the raft which was designed for five people.  The only way that the raft could accommodate the nine of us was for everyone to sit around the perimeter with feet planted on the floor of the raft.  With this arrangement, those at the ends of the raft had only their feet and lower legs in the water, whereas those along the sides were submerged to their waists.  At one point we noticed something that gave us great concern about the integrity of the raft.  We discovered a jagged piece of sheet aluminum partially impaled on the rim of the raft.  We debated whether to leave it where it was and risk having it cut further into the raft material, or remove it with the hope that doing so wouldn't unplug a hole it had made.  Gambling that it hadn't penetrated, we finally removed it - air didn't leak!
 
As long as daylight continued, we were content to drift awaiting sighting by Air-Sea Rescue.  Up to then we assumed that the distress and position report we had sent had been received.  As dusk arrived without any sign of rescue activity, we began to suspect that our radio transmission was never received.  Our radio operator speculated that our trailing antenna may have been torn away by some of the items we jettisoned.  When darkness came, we took turns shouting and blowing a small whistle, determined to make our presence known if Air-Sea Rescue should happen to have a surface craft in the area. 
 
The night started out with the stars clearly visible.  Using the North Star as a reference, we started paddling the raft in an easterly direction in the hope that we might get to the safety of land.  At one point while we were paddling, we saw a distant ball of fire going skyward in the east.  This was no doubt the plume of the first and only V2 rocket we were to see.  The clear night sky was relatively short lived.  A thick fog rolled in, followed by a light mist.  By then we were all very cold and thoroughly exhausted.  No longer with any means of knowing direction, we ceased paddling and concentrated on trying to keep each other awake and in the raft.  To this end, we alternately sang, shouted, prayed and blew the whistle - all these as loud as we could.  Eventually, even the energy and drive to continue doing even these things was quickly fading away.  Each of us was privately wondering how soon we would simply topple off the rim of the raft and be swallowed up in the cold black water.
 
Suddenly, without any warning, the foggy mist turned a bright white from the glow of an aerial flare.  We all came alive shouting as loud as we could.  Although we couldn't see anything, we thought sure that a rescue craft was finally near at hand.  Strangely, when we fell quiet, we didn't hear any sound of an engine.  Soon another white flare illuminated the mist and again we shouted.  After awhile, a bright floodlight was turned on and we saw the silhouettes of armed men standing on a beach and posts set at an angle in the water between them and us.  We could make out what appeared to be the outline of a large concrete structure behind the men.  After more than twelve hours we had drifted to within shouting distance of a German shore defense installation.  Our raft bumped against the angled posts (assault breakers, but it couldn't pass between them because of their close spacing.  The Germans ordered us ashore and we realized that our only hope of survival was to comply.  Those of us who had been immersed to our waists found to our amazement that we were totally paralyzed from the waist down.  Those who were on the high ends of the raft were able to move their legs to some extent and they proceeded to help the others to shore.  We later learned that the point of our capture was near the Dutch town of Haarlem.

Our capture was probably a highlight event at this particular installation because we were certainly the subject of intense stares from all the personnel that passed through where we were held.  We were placed together in a warm room, given dry clothes (German uniforms without insignia) and eventually fed a large bowl of hot cooked greens.  We then slept on the floor for several hours under the watchful eyes of an armed guard.
 
When we awakened, we became aware of the presence of a Luftwaffe officer who was berating the commander of the installation for having clothed us in German uniforms.  Thereupon, we had to relinquish that clothing and were each issued a blanket which was our only covering for the next two or three days.  This was despite the fact that we had to travel by truck, bus and foot in rain and some snow, as well as sleep in unheated buildings.
 
Our next confinement location in Holland apparently served as a collection point for prisoners of war captured in that general area.  It resembled a small warehouse which was sectioned off into several fenced-in enclosures.  All enclosures were without any furnishings whatsoever.  There was a thin layer of straw on the floor.  We stood, sat, and slept on the floor.  In the enclosure confining our crew, there was a sink with a single cold water faucet.  This sink served as our drinking water fountain, our wash basin and our urinal.  A guard, manning a tripod-mounted machine gun, was positioned such that he had clear visibility of all areas within all enclosures.  Each new group of prisoners was confined in a separate enclosure and ordered not to converse with prisoners in any other enclosure.  Once a day, each group of prisoners was escorted outside to another building where there were toilets.  Twice a day, the prisoners were escorted outside to another building and fed.  Shortly after we arrived at this collection point, a group of three American airmen were brought in and placed in a separate enclosure.  They were extensively bandaged, particularly about the head.  Somehow we found out that they had been attacked by civilians following an air raid and probably would have been killed if their German guards had not intervened.
 
The day before we left Holland, our clothes were returned to us in exchange for the blankets we had been issued.  Apparently, no particular effor had been taken to dry this clothing because it was still very wet when returned to us.  In this condition, it fell far short of providing adequate wintertime protection.  The footwear exhibited the most notable deficiency.  The only footwear some of us had when we entered the raft were the felt "booties" which were plugged into the electrically heated flying suits we wore.  These were adequate footwear when used in the intended environment, but they offered no more protection that socks when walking on rough ground in winter weather.
 
On or about February 20 all nine of us left Holland accompanied by two armed guards.  We travelled by foot and rail to our next point of confinement which took us well into Germany.  This trip was filled with several harrowing experiences, including air raids and close encounters with the understandably enraged and vengeful populace.  Cold and exhausted, we would have fallen easy prey to these angry people had it not been for the determined interventions by our guards.  When we were on foot near a railway station in one rather large city, someone slipped a piece of paper to Chuck Wilson.  At his first opportunity to look at it unobserved by our guards, he found that it gave an address, probably in that city.  Chuck confided his find to the rest of our crew.  We had no way of knowing whether this was a bona fide contact by some underground group in an attempt to aid us to escape and evade.  We discussed this quietly among ourselves, weighing the uncertainties and risks associated with trying to take advantage of this overture.  We reasoned that we would be pushing our luck too far in unfamiliar territory if any of us tried at that time to slip away from our guards.  Clothed as we were, we would have been too conspicuous to escape attention.  Also it would have been foolish to try to overpower our guards while we were still in the midst of hostile German civilians.
 
On or about February 24, we arrived at the Dulag Luft interrogation center near Oberursel.  Here we were fingerprinted, photographed and interrogated at great length.  We were confined in separate concrete cells which had no windows or heat and offered no visibility to any other areas.
 
About two days later, we were transported to the Dulag Luft transient camp near Wetzlar.  This facility was nothing like any place we had experienced since our capture and certainly a far cry from what we subsequently experienced.  Here we were allowed to bathe and were issued clean, dry clothing, courtesy of the International Red Cross, in place of whatever we had which was unsuitable.  There were hundreds of other allied prisoners here and the general morale was good.  Various levels of command were in place withing the prisoner population.  An Air Corps Colonel headed the prisoner chain of command.  After our initial contact with the German staff, we had no other direct contact with them - all instructions, briefings, etc. came from appropriate levels within the prisoner organization.  All camp functions (supply, mess, recreation, etc.) were administered by prisoners.  There was even a library of sorts!  We were almost stunned with disbelief and began to become optimistic regarding our future as prisoners.  (We later surmised that the Germans were maintaining the Wetzlar Camp as a propaganda showcase facility for the benefit of International Red Cross inspection teams seeking evidence of adherence to provisions of the Geneva Convention governing treatment of prisoners of war.)
 
This lasted only until about March 2 when we were herded together with about 120 other prisoners and placed aboard a train.  We were distributed among four small boxcars, generally referred to as 40/8's (40 men or 8 horses).  The approximately thirty prisoners in each boxcar were accompanied by two armed guards.  The prisoners were ordered to occupy no more than half the floor area - the two guards reserved the remaining half for themselves.  The sliding door at the center of the side was closed and secured from the outside.  Thre was no way that either pirsoners or guards could exit the boxcar without outside assistance.  (We later learned that at the head of the string of boxcars was a flat car on which was mounted an anti-aircraft gun manned by a gun crew.  Ahead of this flatcar was a passenger car and then the coal tender and the locomotive.  They boxcars bore no markings to indicate that there were POWs aboard.)  As we travelled, the train would stop periodically and would remain motionless for a few minutes before proceeding again.  This happened often and we didn't know why at the time.  We had been traveling about a day when the train made another one of these unexplained stops.  We had become accustomed to these frequent stops by then and were surprised when we hear rapid gunfire and splinters began flying around inside the boxcar.  We heard the close-in roar of aircraft.  We and the guards clamored for the door, but we couldn't get out.  Again there were more bursts of gunfire and more splinters flew.  Someone on the outside unfastened the door and all of us poured out as fast as possible, stumbling and falling on the rail ballast, and then running for any ground cover we could find.  We saw that our attackers were a pair of P-51 Mustangs.  They made a total of three passes on the train.  Neither plan appeared to have been hit by the German anti-aircraft crew.  The total casualty count was four prisoners and the German officer-in-charge killed plus several seriously injured prisoners.  After about an hour, all uninjured prisoners were rounded up and ordered aboard the train for a brief period.  We never know of the disposition of the dead and the fate of the injured.  I still have the vivid recollection of seeing a 50 cal. bullet imbedded in the corner of the boxcar in exactly the same spot where I was resting my head when the strafing began.  Apparently the strafing disabled the locomotive, because we left the area on foot following the route of the rails.  Later that same day, we spotted two P-51s closing toward us from the rear.  We all scattered in fear and hit the ground.  The planes came in very low over us, but instead of strafing, they wiggled their wings and pulled up into a hard turn and left.  We speculated that when the pilots of those planes observed us pouring from those boxcars they suspected that it was a POW train and thereupon broke off the attack.  They probably returned to confirm their suspicion and then took the opportunity to signal us that they knew.  Although that return trip may have been well intended, they sure scared the hell out of us.  We spotted these or identical planes on a couple of later occasions, but they remained at several thousand feet altitude.  We figured that our progress was being observed, but in a manner much less stressful to us.
 
Our trip took us to Nurnberg, arriving about March 5.  We were marched through the city streets where we witnessed the aftermath of a major air raid.  There was extensive destruction of buildings and much rubble in the streets.  There were numerous "skeletons" of burned out street cars standing where they were abandoned.  The guards who were herding us along guided us along a route which took us through the center of a massive stadium.  Many of us recognized it to be the same stadium that we had seen flag-ringed in newsreels of Hitler speaking to thousands of the Nazi party prior to our entry into the war.  Our journey ended at Stalag 13D.
 
Stalag 13D was a large complex of numerous fenced-in compounds, each containing a number of long one-story wooden barracks.  Although our crew had travelled together thus far, the random assignment of arriving prisoners resulted in our crew being divided between adjacent compounds.  Fortunately, we could still see and call to each other, even though it was across fence lines several feet apart.  Each barrack contained a small pot-belly stove and one or two crude tables.  There were no beds or bunks in the barracks.  There was available for each man what looked like a long burlap bag containing some straw.  The straw had crumbled so much from long use that it was mostly like chaff and provided little or no cushioning from the bare floor.  The barracks were filthy and infested with insects of various kinds.  We lost no time in cleaning the barracks and burning the sweepings and any straw that we suspected contained lice.  The Germans cooperated in this effort by shaving the heads of prisoners found to have lice and then dusting them with powder.
 
Fuel for the stove was scarce and was supplemented through the efforts of daily volunteer work parties that the German guards took our of the camp to gather firewood.  The stove was used only part of each day and never at night for fear that it might start a barrack fire while we slept.  The best we could do to keep warm at night was to sleep in groups of two or three laying against each other. 
 
During the daytime, the prisoners in each compound had access to a deep-pit latrine housed in an enclosure separate from the barracks.  At no time was any chemical, such as lime, used to keep down the flies and stench.  At night, the only barrack door was secured from the outside.  Prisoners were not allowed outside the barracks at night or they would be shot.  Consequently, about a five gallon size bucket was placed just inside the door for the use of those who had to relive themselves.  Because of the prevalence of dysentery, these containers often overflowed before daybreak.
 
There was very little food and everyone was extremely hungry.  Once a day each barrack was issued a large pot of broth made by boiling chopped greens and/or potatoes and sometimes a few scraps of meat in a lot of water.  Great care was taken to ensure that the pot of broth was divided equally among all the men in the barrack.  One day, a rather large ball-joint bond was found in the pot.  We drew lots for it and I won!  It had been boiled so many times that it was relatively soft.  I gnawed on this bond for hours until I finally consumed it all.  For the first time in weeks I felt full and satisfied.  Later that day, I began to get terrible cramps in my stomach and pains in my abdomen.  I was very sick for several days and off and on for weeks afterward.  Every so often, loaves of very dense dark brown bread were divided among the prisoners so that each prisoner received about one slide of average thickness.  In an effort to make this meager ration seem to go further, many of us would further cut it into very, very thin slices.  Red Cross food parcels were distributed on two or three occasions.  These parcels from various countries of origin were intended to be supplemental food for something like five men for a day or one man for five days.  Due to the small quantity of parcels and infrequent distributions, the actual allocation was more rearly on parcel per five men for about eight days.

One day about two or three weeks after our arrival, a small contingent of about a dozen Australian prisoners were brought into our already very crowded barracks.  By and large, they were a very friendly group of guys with a good sense of humor.  We willingly rearranged our living and sleeping spaces to accommodate this new group and they genuinely appreciated our hospitality.  Not more than a couple of days went by before some of us began missing items of food that we had stashed away.  We could only surmise that one of these Australians was the culprit because we had not had any theft up until that time.  We reported our suspicion to the senior member of their group.  He expressed regret that the theft had occurred and stated that he know who was probably the guilty party.  He said that by the next day that person would not be stealing again.  The next day, one of the Australians, a short man who was pretty much of a loner, was nowhere to be seen.  We never saw him again and the Australians wouldn't comment.  We could only speculate how he could disappear.  Some were convinced that he was done in by one or more of his countrymen and disposed of in the latrine pit.
 
Probably the most interesting thing that we witnessed while at the Nurnburg camp was the arrival of a large number of Serbian prisoners.  The day prior to their arrival, the Germans called for volunteers among us to assist in erecting a large tent as a shelter for a big group of prisoners which would be arriving the next day.  We imagined that these prisoners would be a pretty sorry group like ourselves and we were very willing to help prepare for the new arrivals.  The tent was immense - much like the revival tents we sometimes see in America.  The arrival of the new prisoners was a sight to behold.  There must have been close to a hundred of them - all dressed in heavy coats and hats and each pulling a two-wheeled cart or a wagon loaded with luggage.  They looked healthy, well fed and in good spirits.  They seemed anxious to make friends.  They seemed to be considerably older than most of us - probably averaging mid-forties.  The word soon circulated that a large number of them were generals - about forty as I recall.  These generals were not sticklers for protocol - one who was particularly friendly insisted on being called General "Mike".  They wasted no time in settling themselves into orderly rows in the tent.  Once in place, they began opening their luggage consisting of trunks and suitcases.  The place soon resembled a flea market.  Just about every conceivable item was represented in some form or another.  There were cameras, post and pans, silverware, dishes, can openers, tools, eyeglasses, magnifying glasses, pencils, pens, soap, toothbrushes, buttons, thread, needles and hundreds of other things.  It was unbelievable!  Cigarettes, uniform buttons and insignia were about the only things we had which were useful for bartering with them.  Although we could buy little or nothing with what we had, it was nevertheless the highpoint of each day to wander up and down the aisles of their tent and stare at what they had.  We wondered how they got it, but more importantly, how they had managed to hold on to it.  Not long after this group of prisoners arrived, we found that they were using the air raid bunker as their latrine.  Furthermore, they were surreptitiously removing much of the lumber which comprised the shelter around our deep-pit latrine.  I don't remember what use they were making of this lumber.
 
Time hung heavy for all of us and we did various things to relieve the boredom and attempt to divert our attention away from our constant hunger and frequent diarrhea.  Many walked around the inner perimeter of the compound almost constantly.  Others played cards, checkers or chess with makeshift playing items.  Otherw who were skilled with their hands and blessed with ingenuity made various items with makeshift tools.  For example, one of the prisoners made insignia, ball and chain jewelry, etc. out of lead.  He obtained the lead by placing tin cans atop the pot-belly stove and collecting the lead that melted from the seams.  He then carved patterns, using them to make molds from mud, dried the molds and then cast the items using molten lead.  Another example of handicraft was the "kriegie burner" which was an extremely popular item.  In its basic form, it was an assembly of two KLIM cans.  (KLIM was the trade name of powdered milk that came in some Red Cross food parcels.)  A pattern of holes was punched into these cans and one can was stacked atop the other.  The top can was then loaded with dry wood shavings.  When this tinder was ignited and a small can of water placed atop the burner and one blew lightly against the bottom can, the resultant heat was sufficient to bring the water to a boil.  Lots of us made these efficient little stoves either to make tea of coffee or to prepare the dehydrated vegetables that came in the Red Cross parcels.  A few prisoners made much more elaborate burners complete with hand cranked forced draft fans.
 
The only medical supplies available to the prisoners were those supplied by the Red Cross.  These were rudimentary supplies at best and replenishments were few and infrequent.  As a result, many ailments had to go unattended.  One prisoner in each compound was designated the first aid representative.  He did his job the best he could, but his training, experience, supplies and facilities were no match for the challenges which faced him.  There was a prison doctor, but his services were limited to only the most severe cases.  Either through negligence of the the guards to pass the word of severe illness, or because the doctor was swamped with patients, his services were always delayed several days.  Bill Streuter of our crew lay with what we suspected was appendicitis for four days, the last two of which he was delirious, before the doctor arrived.  Bill was taken to the prison infirmary and we had no way of knowing his fate there until after the war.
 
One night we witnessed a major air raid on Nurnberg by RAF bombers.  It was usual practice of the RAF to make their bombing runs at night, flying in single file over the target, each plane releasing its bomb load over the flare released by the lead plane.  On this night, there were an exceptionally large number of aircraft and the flak from ground fire was heavy.  Although we were not permitted out of the barracks, we were able to see much of the fireworks from the windows.  We heard the guns firing and the bombs exploding, saw the flash of exploding flak and the flames from disabled aircraft.  We also heard the sound of flak residue hitting the barrack roof as it fell back to earth.  The next day, rumors sprad that some survivors from the disabled aircraft were brought into camp during the night.
 
As the end of March neared, the rumor circulated that Stalag 13D was going to be evacuated and all prisoners moved on foot to another camp quite some distance away.  Feelings of uncertainty and excitement ran high.  An evacuation planning group comprised of prisoners was formed to develop guidelines and advice to facilitate an orderly and survivable travel to our new destination.  The basis for this planning was the lessons learned from an earlier mass movement of prisoners on foot from another camp to Nurnberg.  One element of the planning effort gave attention to our food requirements along the way.  A recipe was formulated for a compact, highly nutritious block of food to be eaten sparingly along the way to supplement whatever meager food to we might otherwise get.  The ingredients were to be contributed by everyone out of the last issue of Red Cross parcels.  We each gave up our share of the powdered milk, chocolate and some other items I can't recall now.  Shortly before our departure, we were each to be issued our survival block - a dense, hard brown hunk of material about the size and shape of a brick.  We eventually discovered that although it didn't look appetizing, it tasted pretty good.  Each prisoner also made his own personal preparations for the uncertain days of foot travel which lay ahead.  For example some of us stepped up the frequency and duration of our walks around the compound in an effort to build up our physical condition.  Also, we each surveyed our meager belongings and chose only those things which we were willing to tote along.  Typically, these included our "kriegie burner", the "survival brick", scraps of hoarded food, razor, toothbrush, odd bits of clothing and trinkets for bartering (uniform buttons, insignia, etc.).  To carry my belongings, I fashioned a backpack out of a long sleeve GI undershirt by using the sleeves as shoulder straps and closing the bottom opening.  This was more than ample to carry my belongings, but I figured that the extra room may be handy to accommodate items I might find along the way.  (Becoming a scrounger and a pack rat was a natural consequence of being a POW.)
 
On the morning of April 4 all prisoners commenced exiting Stalag 13D.  Word circulated that about 10,000 prisoners were involved in this evacuation.  Those who were judged to be too ill or weak to travel on foot were informed that they would be transported by truck.  We started out at a steady pace in orderly columns of two, stopping every hour for about ten minutes of rest.  After several hours of travel, the columns had become loosely strung out groups, each travelling at its own pace.  The German guards were spaced at regular intervals and travelled on foot alongside the prisoners.
 
About a day or two out of Nurnberg we were on a road which ran alongside a railroad marshalling yard containing a considerable amount of freight rolling stock.  As we were passing the marshalling yard, it became the target of a bombing and strafing run by a flight of P-47 aircraft.  When we saw the planes boring in, we dashed for the cover of ditches and nearby trees and hugged the earth.  We were in such close proximity of the yard that the debris from the explosions rained all about us.  There were a number of casualties, including some killed.
 
The march took us in a southerly direction through the rolling countryside of Bavaria and through small villages.  We spent the nights wherever we happened to be when dusk arrived.  Usually, we bedded down in fields.  On some occasions when passing through villages, we slept on the pews and stone floors of churches.  The best nights of all were when we slept in barns in the soft warmth of hay.  In the roughly two weeks of our march, there were two issues of Red Cross food parcels in the ratio of approximately one parcel per two or three prisoners.  There were also a couple of issues of German brown bread distributed in about the same ratio as the Red Cross parcels.  We supplemented these food issues by living off the land - greens, turnips and potatoes we found in the fields.  Because of the Bavarian practice of fertilizing their crops with liquified animal and human excrement, we used our "kriegie burners" to boil these vegetables before eating them.  Even so, diarrhea was still prevalent.  Bartering with some of the rural people was even possible on some occasions.  I recall trading a brass uniform button with a young country boy for an egg.
 
One day, a Canadian who was a member of our particular group of marchers caught a small fish in a brook that was alongside where we were taking a rest break.  He used a snare that he had fashioned from a piece of thin wire he found along the way.  He fried the fish in a mixture of Red Cross margarine and water over his "kriegie burner".
 
I am still amused by an incident which occurred one morning on the march.  The evening before, our small group had stopped to spend the night at a small farm yard.  There was a barn there with a loft well stocked with hay which gave promise of an excellent night of sleep.  Before we settled in, Chuck Wilson and I spotted a chicken shed off to one side of the barn.  Between us, we decided to make an egg raid early the next morning before anyone else arose.  We did just that, but only found two eggs.  We also found some nesting eggs (wooden replicas of real eggs identical in size and shape which are used to encourage chickens to lay their eggs in specified locations.)  Just for a lark, we took one of those nesting eggs also.  Chuck and I each hard boiled an egg for breakfast.  We gave the nesting egg to another member of our group as a joke which we felt sure he would immediately recognize as such.  We were wrong.  He genuinely believed it was a real egg and proceeded to boil i over his "kriegie burner".  He didn't realize that it was a fake until he tried to crack the shell.  Boy, he was really mad at us.
 
In the course of our march, we crossed over a bridge spanning the Danube river.  That particular occasion has stuck in my memory for two reasons.  First, the river was a muddy brown color at that location rather than a blue of the Blue Danube Waltz fame.  Second, the bridge was wired with demolition charges.  German sentries were standing by prepared to blow these charges in an attempt to slow down advancing US forces.  I guess that it wasn't until then that I was really convinced that the war in Europe was that close to ending.
 
About April 20 we finally arrived at Stalag 7A near Moosburg.  The crowding here was almost beyond belief.  The barracks were crammed with built-in-place three-tier bunks arranged in clusters of four unites per cluster.  Narrow boards made up the bottom of each tier, but many of these boards were missing.  There were some burlap bag-like "mattresses" containing straw of excelsior, but they were very skimpily filled and not nearly enough for everyone.  If one had a bunk with some bottom boards missing, it was pretty tricky to find a reclining position where the body was supported in the right places.  Many of us slept on the floor because there were not enough bunks for everyone.
 
By the time we reached Stalag 7A, I had started developing sores which soon become infected.  As the days went by, these sores became worse.  The most bothersome ones were on the lower half of my right leg.  There were two holes in my leg that were big enough to stick my finger in.  Each day it became more painful to walk or even to put any weight on my leg.  The worst hours for me were in the mornings when it would take me nearly and hour just to get to a standing position and support my weight.  There were no medical supplied or services available.
 
About mid-morning of April 29 we heard considerable gunfire in the vicinity of the camp.  The word circulated that all personnel should remain inside their barracks to avoid being hit by stray shots.  By mid-day the gunfire had subsided considerably and soon after it stopped entirely.  Soon after that, we heard a lot of shouting and general commotion.  Prisoners poured out of the barracks cheering as a US Army tank passed through the camp gate.  Prisoners swarmed all around the tank to the extent that the driver had to stop to keep from injuring prisoners.  The tank crew identified themselves as members of the 14th Armored Division.  We had been liberated.
 
Except for the thrill of seeing that tank and the relief of not seeing any more German guards, the liberation really didn't change things for me.  I was still hungry, my leg was hurting more each day, and I could hardly move.  I was continually bothered by either nausea or diarrhea.  My condition kept me trapped in place.

The prison population seemed to be thinning out, although all of us know that the camp remained as our assigned base until advised differently.  In essence, the status of us prisoners was in limbo, awaiting completion of preparations to return us to allied care and control, transportation out of Germany and repatriation by our respective countries.  Nonetheless, it was generally known that quite a number of prisoners took off on their own with no intention of returning to the camp site.  Many others would be absent for a day or so and then return bringing back all manner of booty they had looted from the German population.  Some returned with German rifles, sidearms and ammunition that they discovered in some armory in or near the camp.  Others returned from raiding the camp files and retrieving prisoner's records.  One of our crew members retrieved my record and gave it to me.
 
Various bits of food items began to show up as the result of these prisoner excursions.  I recall that one prisoner returned with chunks of fresh pork, the result of him and others finding and slaughtering a hog.  One day, loaves of white bread from some US Army mess were distributed.  I can still remember that it tasted so good that I thought it was cake.
 
Finally on May 5, I learned that medical attention was now available at a location within the camp grounds.  With the assistance of another prisoner, I was able to get to the medical station which was manned by an Army medic.  After examining me, he summoned transportation to take me to a US Army field (tent) hospital near Landshut.  That was the point where I was formally returned to US control and care.  I was no longer a prisoner in any sense of the word!
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Modified on 2024/04/17 22:18 by Administrator Categorized as 613th, Combat, Shot down, ToDo