March 17, 1999
My view of World War Two
S/Sgt. Lewis T. Haas
452 Bombardment Group (H)
730th Bombardment Squadron
Tail Gunner/Armorer
On a B-17 Heavy Bomber
Served from Dec., 1942 to Dec., 1945
The March We marched out of Stalag Luft four in early Feb. 1945. We were upset about leaving because we knew the Russian tanks were advancing as much as fifty miles some days. We also knew we were nearly surrounded, we could hear the shelling. It turned out the Russians deliberately left a ten-mile gap, so the Germans could march us out. I guess it made sense to the Ruskys, they didn’t want to bother with us and it did create problems for the Germans, not the least of which was to tie up a hell of a lot of able bodied guards who wouldn’t be shooting at Russians. What I fail to understand is why did the Germans want to keep us? We were using up manpower as well as rations, meager though they were. Why didn’t they just go and leave us to the tender mercies of the local civilians or the Russians? Maybe they were afraid we would help the Russians, or possibly they hated them so bad that they didn’t want to give them anything including a bunch of half-dead POWs. Seems to me the easiest solution would have been to shoot us.
We heard they moved 100,000 prisoners out through that gap. Some by train. Some by wagon and three or four marching groups. Our bunch had about 1500 men, it made quite a column. The weather was bad, sleet and snow to face plus snow to march through. Lots of frostbitten feet, I don’t know if mine were or not, my feet peeled some like sunburn. Most of the frostbite showed up as white blotches. Many guys were in pain right from the start. Some of the guys figured we marched around thirty miles a day for the first few days. At night we were marched into open fields and slept in the mud and snow. Surprisingly every one held up pretty well. Later on as we got sicker and weaker about all they could get out of us was ten or fifteen miles a day. Also later on we were divided at night to different farms and bedded in barns. Very crowded, guys with Dysentery had a hard time threading between sleepers to get outside. One time I didn’t make it and tried to hit the straw and decorated some poor guy’s blanket. Very embarrassing to say the least.
Rations consisted mostly of boiled potatoes (three per day) and once in while a fourth of a loaf of black bread for two men, so every one had a marching partner to share rations blankets whatever. My partner was Ray Kowatch, we were friends in camp. So for three months we walked and slept side by side. We shared rations and body lice and cheered each other up when we were down. The bread ration got less and less until finally none at all. Then there was only the three spuds a day (no salt just boiled spuds) without the bread and no Red Cross parcels we got weaker and weaker. It became a real chore to put one foot before the other one. Good wells were scarce and the ones that were good had a limited output so we were only allowed a Klim can of water a day. A Klim can was a metal container that some Red Cross rations came in. Probably held about a quart We had all saved a can when we left camp. We mostly drank what we could get, maybe a touch to wash fingers with.
At first we carefully peeled our spuds and removed the eyes and any bad spots. Later we just removed the bad spots and later still we closed our eyes and ate everything. I don’t remember if I’ve said, every farm had big mounds of spuds and huge coke fired kettles. They fed their livestock boiled spuds. As a rule we were lined up single file and guards would carry out tubs full of spuds and give each man three. As long as there was a line they kept cooking. Once in a while we would be late getting in and by the time the spuds were cooked it was dark, so Ray and I would go through the line and get our three then one of us would guard them and the other would sneak back in line. Worked great we quite often doubled our ration of spuds.
On the last day of February I began to stagger and half faint (I’d had the Flu for a couple of days). Ray and another guy helped me along all day. No one dared collapse as they said anybody that couldn’t walk would be shot. I don’t know if they really did or not. A lot fell out. Anyway, true or not, we believed them. The guys helped me all day. I don’t know if I ever passed clear out or not, I doubt it and they never said, but I think they were too weak to carry me if I was clear out. I really don’t know what all happened that day, but I was weak, sick and feverish and believe me, you can get so tired, miserable and sick that you think you want to die. So in the barn that night I told the guys to leave me next morning that I couldn’t make it any further.
The next morning, March 1st, they didn’t fall us out and about noon an old creaky wagon came up the road with a full Canadian Red Cross parcel per man. They also had a lot of aspirin so every little while those of us sick with Flu got dosed with aspirin. We stayed right there for six days, by the time we marched out I was in good enough shape to march. That was the first rest we had, couldn’t have been timed better for me. Like I said I was always lucky when the chips were down. I don’t know what I would have done had they told us to fall out, maybe I would have tried, but I don’t think I could have made it. The last day of Feb.1945 was the fourth time I thought I was a dead man. I thought I’d be shot the next morning. It turned out March I, was the day my brother was killed in Germany. I always thought he traded his life for mine.
A lot of the roads we marched over were cobblestone my ankles swelled to twice their normal size. This was caused by our feet turning at every step on the rounded stones. After a couple of months we arrived at Stalag one, it wasn’t a Luftwaffe camp. We laid over a couple of days while they changed our guards. Luftwaffe to Infantry. That was one bad camp, up the hill a little way from where we were put was a building where they constructed coffins. Made quite a conversation piece, very cheerful. Some guy from the camp told us they averaged 17 deaths a day. I have no idea if that was true or not, I do know there was a mighty big stack of coffins. I’m surprised they would waste coffins on POWs. Oh well I was surprised a good share of the time I was in Germany.
Things improved slightly under the infantry, no more farms with cookers. They let us gather wood and cook our own spuds; also we started getting a ration of grain instead of bread which we hadn’t been getting anyway. Good old Klim cans. We could also boil the water and that helped the Dysentery some. Boiling the grain made a sort of rough cereal and mixed with spuds it made a change. We picked up in strength also. Someplace Ray came up with big long sock full of dried peas, a small handful would swell up till you wouldn’t believe it. One of us would boil grain and spuds and the other one peas we were living it up.
At one barn I found a loose board and being skinny I could squeeze through without a guard seeing me. The hen house was hooked to the barn. I slipped in and nailed a chicken before she could squawk, got back to our bed and peeled the hen, tore it in pieces, buried the feathers and guts in the straw and talked about who all we would share with next day. Well there was quite a list of guys to share with so we decided I better go get another chicken. This decision was a bad one. I didn’t get a good grip on the second one and she got to flopping and beating her wings, she couldn’t squawk, I had her around the neck, but she raised so much hell that the whole coop started squawking. What a din. I had to move fast before a guard showed up and took a shot at me. I made it back okay and still had my chicken. Of course with all the row the farmer counted his chickens next day and came up two short. We were all assembled and I figured there were to be serious threats, like confess or we will shoot every tenth man. Not bad at all they said if the chickens weren’t returned no rations for anyone. So I went to our elected leader or translator, whatever. I told him I stole the chickens, but sure hated to give them up. He said he would try telling them one was eaten and would turn the other over. Worked like a charm. I guess they thought we ate it raw. We probably would have if we had to. That evening you could smell chicken boiling at a dozen fires. I don’t imagine the guards were fooled, but the farmer didn’t raise more hell. Spuds, peas flavored with chicken tasted great.
A couple of the guards were real goof offs and made friends with some of us. On nights when it wasn’t too moonlight on their perimeter shift, they would let one of us at a time crawl to the nearest mound of spuds. We would go to the blind side and dig out spuds or sometimes sugar beets or kohlrabi. It didn’t matter, it was all edible, in fact we were starved for sugar. The beets were great raw, kind of gave us the quickstep, but worth it. One stop there was no firewood handy so the two goof offs took a truck and half a dozen of us to a wooded area and told us to load up with firewood and they went to the edge of the woods and started shooting crows out in a field. They just let us wander around, we could have taken off if we wanted too, but it would have been pretty dumb we were better off where we were and knew it. By now we could hear the artillery exchanges between the Germans and British, and the British Hurricane Fighter planes were checking where we were each day. They did this because one had strafed us by mistake a week or so before. Anyway we were pretty sure it was about over and if we escaped we were just as apt to be shot by the allies as the Germans.
It was heartening to have the Hurricanes check on us every day. It was nice to see something free that wasn’t German. One day I remember very well. We had stopped early at an open field (not bad the weather was nice.) Any way we were sitting around feeling good about having a short day when the Hurricanes came over and gave us a show. There was a building maybe a hundred yards from us. They came over us real low and released their rockets directly over us. They blew hell out of the building, but never saw a company of German soldiers across the road in the woods. There was no way we could try to tip them off without being shot, but the whole situation was entertaining and we enjoyed it immensely.
When we got word President Roosevelt had died every one felt really badly Even some of the Germans did which surprised me. I seem to have been surprised a lot; I must have gone around with my eyebrows raised most of the time.
Liberation came about a week before V.E. day. The First Royal Armored tank force came and surrounded the hill we were on They were also in the process of blowing hell out of a town not far away. It seems the war had arrived at our front door. I suppose just in time because the Germans had decided to turn us around and start for Denmark. Wouldn’t have made but a week’s difference anyway. On the other hand a week can be long time in captivity and we were very tired of marching, over 800 miles. An English Officer came up the hill in a scout car. He stood up and yelled we’ve got a war to fight, pointed and said that way is home, good luck and was gone. Most of the Germans had thrown down their guns so some of us armed ourselves and went trudging down the road.
We were all wearing Issue long johns, two piece. Weeks before I had messed my lowers. Shortly before liberation the seat dropped out of my O.D. pants. I couldn’t run around with a full moon shining out so I took the tops and used them for lowers. No problem my legs were so skinny they fit the arms nicely. I tied a knot at the waist and was in business. After Liberation I ran into a British soldier who gave me a pair of pants. So for a week I went around in British pants and U.S. shirt.
The week running around Germany and later Belgium and France is another story and a happier one. I suppose I will try and relate it, as much as I can remember at least.
Any one interested in more information about these camps at Stalag Luft IV and VI, should visit the following sites:
Valor
The AIR FORCE Magazine.
"Lest We Forget"
During the winter of 1944-45, 6,000 Air Force noncoms took part in an event of mass heroism that has been neglected by history.Heavy Bombers
AAF Heavy Bombers WWII
HeavyBombers.com is a resource that lists ninety-six (96) separate Bombardment Groups plus a few specialty units.
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