A DAY TO REMEMBER

 
How 600 American prisoners of the WW II German army escaped almost certain annihilation just days before the end of the war.

This is a true story and takes place in Stalag IX A in central Germany.  Our regiment had been surrounded during the Battle of the Bulge, in 1944 and the regimental commander saw fit to surrender the entire regiment, almost intact.

We were marched to a railhead, then taken by train on Christmas Eve, 1944, to a prison camp, Stalag IX B, in Bad Orb, near Frankfurt.  There were some 8000 of us and the Germans had to divide out groups to be sent to other camps because of the overcrowding. First went the U. S. Army officers, then the non-commissioned officers and last, anyone the Germans could identify as being Jewish.  The Jews were sent to a labor camp and were put to work digging a mine (See "Berga ...Soldiers of Another War", a PBS special), where a good number of them died. I was with the non-com group and we soon settled into a routine that kept us alive but slowly suffering from a starvation diet and severe malnutrition (see "A Day in the Life of an American POW", Gather,
By David D.)

Three months passed with no significant events except for being strafed with machine guns by a U. S. Air Corps fighter plane, killing and injuring several British prisoners, an obvious tragic error, not uncommon in those days.

One day in mid-March we began to hear bombs and heavy artillery going off in the far distance.  We had no outside communication and no way of knowing what was going on, but surmised that the German army was retreating toward central Germany, fighting as it went and being chased by the U. S. Army.  We were ecstatic, as you might imagine, because we foresaw being overrun and liberated: our greatest hope!

As the sounds of large explosions got nearer  and we began to hear small arms fire, we knew that it was just a matter of time until we would be freed!  Our American group of about 600 P.O.W's had organized upon arrival at Stalag IX A, putting the most  qualified of us in charge of decision making, and even though they had no direct contact with the German guards, they did represent our group.

Let me say here something about our German guards.  They were misfits, or badly wounded, or over-the-hill men too old to serve as infantrymen, or too young in many cases.  Their equipment was usable but way outdated except for one machine gun which they liked to lord over us.

As the military action got louder and nearer, the guards got more and more nervous and upset and one night called a meeting with our leaders, telling them that the whole camp was to form up at dawn the next day and would be marched away and into central Germany, the Commandant having been ordered to evacuate and take all prisoners with them.  We, of course, were devastated, as we could just taste our freedom, days away!

Our leaders had a plan, not a very workable plan but better than no plan at all.  Because of our physical condition we were in no shape to walk even a few hundred feet and were afraid that as we fell by the roadside from exhaustion, we would be left to die. At this news, our prospects of being liberated were at a low ebb and we would grasp at any opportunity to stay in camp.

Here was our plan:  When the guards gave the order to march, we had appointed a few men in each squad to feign illness, complete exhaustion or even dying, falling to the ground.  Each of them would then be carried back into the barracks, meaning dozens of our group moaning, groaning, screaming etc., back in the barracks and completely immobile!

This was such an obvious debacle, put on by a bunch of first-time actors, that no one in his right mind would fall for it and we had to be prepared to suffer the consequences - being shot down by the guards and the ever-present machine gun.

Instead, the camp Commandant gave the order for the guards to form up and march right out of the camp and down the road, obviously happy to be rid of this mess.  We were saved, watching them disappear into the village and out of sight!

There was no jollity, no celebration among our group, just relief.  A few days later a U. S. Army unit came down the road and we were rescued by what must have been one of the most bizarre ploys in military history.

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Most of us made it home. Some died in hospital in France, some went on to serve in the Pacific and others were physically scarred for years afterward.