Canadian Prisoner of War Diary

[George Wilkinson]

Scanned items in no particulat order.

[NickFenton]

Stalag 357 was now at Fallenbostal, there was a journey between Thorn and here which they went through.

Those that had not been marched out were liberated by the Hussars, l have something on it somewhere.

When the Armoured Brigade came up to the fence line, the first thing they saw was a lone trooper standing at the barbed wire wearing a red beret, one of the survivors from Arnhem.

Fallenbostal comprised of l think three seperate camps at this time, XI -A to D.

Regards,

Nick

[George Wilkinson]

cont
In a Wellington Bomber, or Wimpy, the 1st pilot is captain, 2nd pilot is co-pilot, and the navigator is the most intelligent (to me) on the aircraft. He has to get you to the target and try to hit it with the bomb load, usually 350 to 400 pounds of bombs. Wimpys have no bomb aimer as such and the navigator gets you home.....
The wireless operator helps the navigator. The front gunner is a gonner if the plane catches fire. In his little nest in the nose of the plane , he must ward off fighters attacking from the front. And if the medical staff can see daylight from one ear through to the other, he gets to be a rear gunner--- but seriously as most fighter attacks come from the rear, the mortality rate is much higher for the rear gunners.
Without the ground crew we couldn't have flown. They were very important and took great pride in their work. We could be shot up to hell one night and the plane would be ready to fly the next. We never had an engion failure due to them. When we were late arriving home from a raid, they were wating for us. I often wondered when they slept.
We had some real characters on the squadron. There was Popeye ( nickname) who was squadron leader--- I volunteered to fly with him as rear gunner on a sweep of the North sea, looking for downed flyers in a dingy. It was daylight and we flew towards the Dutch coast at about 100 feet above the ocean, but there was no sign of the dingy. We were so close to fighter bases I thought we would be attacked any minute. We headed back to the squadron and I had--- with the prvious raid put in about 17 hrs flying.
Our Groupie, group Capatian Powell, CO of our station at Feltwell was quite a guy; he would fly raids with us and would be the lowest plane on the target. He didn't have to fly but he gave us a message by his example.......
The days followed same as usual, night flying tests, raids, getting our planes ready for raids and booze ups at the local pubs and mess.
All told I did 14 raids as a rear gunner but went on a refresher coarse on my 13th. At this time my regular crew were shot down and the rear and front gunners were killed. The rest used a dingy in the North sea and were picked up by the Gerries.
When I got back to the squadron I applied for a pilots course and was accepted because of my pilots lesson, but I had two weeks to wait to be shipped back to Canada for training. During this time I flew as a spare gunner filling in for gunners who had been killed. On my 14 op I was shot down over Germany and was one of two not killed. I bailed out at 800 feet and the chute opened as I hit the ground....
to be cont.

[George Wilkinson]

cont
Well here I was in the Ruhr Valley, shot down myself after shooting down 1 German--definite and 1 probable. I hope the Germans were not killed. I buried my parachute and as I was disoriented, stayed in the field until I thought of what to do next. Then I walked west, going by my button compass. At daylight I hid in a potato field and ate raw potatoes, but my impatience got to me so I tried walking across the field in daylight. It wasn't long before some railway workers saw me and with iron bars in their hands, I wasn't going to argue with them. They took me to a farmhouse and the German couple gave me some eratz coffee and black bread, it sure tasted great.
Soon the Gestapo came in a car for me and they were not so nice. They poked me in the back with their guns, kicked me in the ass and hit me with their fists--- and then on to Gestapo headquarters where some jerk I couldn't understand tried to interrogate me. Finally he gave up and called the Luftwaffe (German Air Force) to pick me up. They took me to a German air training center and in the officers mess I had two drinks and a lovely beef stew. The air force couldn't have been nicer to me.
From there I was taken to an interrogation camp by train. The guard went to sleep and I wanted to jump off the train and escape but the speed of the train was too fast, so I was a good boy till I got to Dulag Luft the interrogation camp. At arrival I was stripped of all clothing and put in an 8ft by 8' cell with a peep slit on the door and a trap door to slide the food in. The bed was small but comfortable with a tabel for interrogation.
My German interrogator was an ex British professor and probably came to Germany before the war started. First I had to fill out a phony Red Cross card with information we could not give. I gave them my regimental number and after 10 days in this cell, I looked forward to seeing this man because he gave me cigarettes to smoke. However I still only gave him my number. Finally he said I could be shot and I told him "bull shit" Anyway, they must have already had information on me and my squadron ect. because the information he gave me was correct.
Finally I was let out of the cell and joined the main camp. As the camp had hidden mikes, we were told not to talk about the air force ect. in camp. The food was very good and we were being softened up to think kindly of the Germans. Some of the British officers permanently assigned to this camp were court marshaled after the war for collaborating with the Germans. They were even allowed out on the town and supplied with girlfriends or whatever they wanted.

[George Wilkinson]

cont
We didn't stay long at Dulag; we were loaded into cattle railway cars and sent to Stalag VlllB, the worst camp of all. it was very cold and we only got one blanket each. I've never been so cold and the ration per day was a thin watery turnip soup, 5 men to a loaf of bread, 2 oz. horse meat per week and not much else. What kept us alive was the Red Cross parcels, sometimes 1 a week or 2 per man per week. If it hadn't been for those parcels not many would be alive today.
Black Bread Recipe
This recipe comes from the official records office of the Food Providing Ministry
in Berlin Dated 24 May 1941. the directors of the Ministry, at the time, agreed that the best mixture to bake "Black Bread" was as follows:

50% bruised rye grain
20% sliced sugar beets
20% tree flour (sawdust)
10% minced leaves and straw

We didn't go on work parties because we were either sergents or officers but the slave laborers, Russian, Poles, etc. worked with no food and just dropped dead. We used to hear the death carts go by at night.
After a year or so at 8B we moved to Sagan or Luft 3, it was much improved over 8B. The rations, sleeping quarters and recreation facilities supplied by the Red Cross were really superior.......
We had many nationalities in Luft 3, all the Commonwealth nations and Americans who had joined the R.C.A.F. one day the Gerries tried to round up all the Jewish prisoners and segregate them, so the whole camp became Jewish. We never lost a Jewish prisoner that way.
There was a big escape at Sagan and 50 men were shot by the Gestapo.....
I won't go into detail as it has been written about so much......
I didn't take part in the escape because my German was terrible and it was better to let men who had a good chance of escaping go than for me who was sure to be recaptured.......
The Allies opened a second front in Europe and the Russians were on the move so the Germans were being chased back to Germany, still the war went on for us and as the Allies advanced we were moved to various camps. In our last camp most of the Germans departed and we took the rest prisoners. Some showed resistance and were shot.
During the last days of the war I went outside the camp and stole a horse and saddle and rode around finding food-- some I traded for and some I just took, eggs and chickens ect. The Russian slave workers tried to get my horse to eat.
The British 7th armoured division finally released our camp............

[George Wilkinson]

A poem that was found with Sgt Stephenson's diary

[George Wilkinson]

Here are a few of the letters received at the time of Sgt Stephenson's release

[George Wilkinson]

ID Papers

[George Wilkinson]

A couple of Sgt Stephenson's pictures to finish this off.

Jim Stephenson & his Mother are very pleased that this story has found a home here and has been well received. Jim has a small request for some help in one area. Sgt Stephenson's Log Book has gone missing, in which he kept track of his missions flown. We don't know if there is a way to get this information or not, but if there is, the family would certainly be grateful.
I am sure if it can be done, someone here will find it.

Thanks George

[Slipdigit]

That's it? This has been a good thread.

Thank you, George, for taking the time to type all these posts. We appreciate it greatly. The biography has been enjoyable to read.

Also, please extend a very special thanks to Mrs. Stephenson for allowing us to get a glimpse of her husband's service and ordeal. She must be a very special lady and I am sure that Sgt. Stephenson loved her dearly.