Rumours were flying daily and one day a rumour turn into fact and our senior officer, Squadron Leader Lamason, R.N.Z.A.F, and a high ranking Luftwaffe officer conferred, and our release to a P.O.W. camp was arranged. The Germans knew that as military people, we should not be held in a concentration camp, and the war was not going well for them now! On October 24th, 1944 we were released from Buchenwald! So back into cattle carts we found ourselves, thirty men to a cart, not so crowded as before, and we rattled off to a camp called Stalag Luft 111. The camp was Sagan, near the Polish boarder and earlier in the war the famous tunnel and wooden horse escape took place at this camp.
    Stalag Luft 111 was heaven compared to Buchenwald, - better food and lodgings, but not the "Ritz". Here, we cooked our own meals in our huts. Each room in a hut housed eight men. We had bunks with rough blankets and pillows. My hut was all "Brits" and we were dressed in proper air force uniforms. Here, we at least received decent treatment by the guards. I was issued my P.O.W. number, - 8071. At camp stores we were given underwear, shirts, socks, boots, razor, tooth brush and toothpaste. Life became wonderful!

Sentry box in the South East corner of Stalag Luft III
    I remember at Christmas we had food that was so rich after Buchenwald, that I vomited it all afterwards. An American "White Owl" cigar I was urged to smoke, was largely responsible! Later, I discovered that upon arrival at Luft 111 I weighed 95 lbs.
    Prison life consisted again of walking and talking and being counted each day. There was no mail, but we did get Red Cross parcels. I was able to write to Vera, but never received any of the letters she wrote to me. Most of the men in my room were old time P.O.Ws, many had spent two or three years as prisoners. The others did get mail, but there was none for ex-Buchenwald prisoners.
    From the time I was shot down to the time I returned to England I was gone about one year. Vera, was told at first that I was dead and she received a widow's pension. She must have felt very vindicated to get my first letter, as she had never given up hope that I was alive. She went up to London and told an officer she had seen before at Air Ministry, that she had received a letter from me. He replied - "We knew your husband was alive". Why they did not inform Vera is beyond me.
    When winter came we tried to skate on puddles of ice in our boots with blades fastened onto them. I spent a lot of time falling on my bum! The Canadians had a great deal of fun watching my pitiful efforts to even remain upright!
    Rumours started that we were to leave camp. We got news daily on a home-made, clandestine radio, (the inventiveness of prisoners is astounding!). We knew from this that the allies were winning the war. By now winter's icy grip had tightened its hold. Temperatures were below zero most days.


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