Louis William Tury
424/A
106th Infantry Division
As I look back now,
Lord Have Mercy
Only I and my brother-in-law
Sylvester
Krupinski
The Three
Miracles
During the "Battle of
the Bulge" in the Ardennes in Germany, I was
wounded in
the right leg. We had taken the towns of Winterspelt and
Lommerweiler, and our platoon was dug
in foxholes waiting for the Germans to counter attack our position.
After three days and nights of fighting, the Germans overran our
positions and killed all but eleven men of Company A. Our orders were to
hold the Germans at all cost, so the the 2nd and 3rd Battalions could
withdraw to the other side of the Our River. We did the best we could
until we ran out of ammo! It
was so cold and snow was so deep. The white snow turned to red
with the blood of my comrades of the 424th Regiment.
The eleven men
fought hard to hold the road leading to St. Vith.
Our B.A.R. man
Kenneth Baker - a boy from New York -Knocked out the
first Tiger Tank that came into
Winterspelt. This delayed the
Germans for
awhile! But as fate would have it, the Germans picked him
off soon afterwards. God have mercy on his soul.
On the 19th of
December the Germans had us cut off and surrounded: no food, no ammo, no
warm clothes, and no replacements. Some of the
boys in their
foxholes were shot outright by these Nazi soldiers.
They showed no mercy, but for some
reason a few of us were hauled out
and taken to their command post.
There we were, stripped of our
sulfa powder
and interrogated by the German Panzer Commander. I could not believe my
eyes - almost all these soldiers were not over sixteen
years old. Some looked like they could be thirteen
or fourteen.
After being
threatened with our lives - because all we could tell them was name,
rank, and serial number - they roughed us up and locked us up near a
pillbox. The next morning we were herded with
some other
P.O.W.s and told to march. We arrived at a rail station
toward nightfall and pushed into box
cars, half the size of boxcars
in the States. Sixty men were put in
each car, just like cattle.
There was no room to stretch your legs, no food, and snow for water.
We were padlocked in; there
was no way to escape. We were told by
the Nazi in
charge that this train would take us to a concentration
camp in Germany.
After two days and
nights, the train stopped. We were ordered out and told to line up and
count off. The signs on the building read:
"Limburg
Germany". We were told that we were headed toward a
concentration camp. By this time I
was very hungry. I had my last
meal December 15th in Lommerweiler.
The Nazi's were not feeding us at
all. I was eating snowballs while I
marched along. Along the way the
German people jeered and called us
"American Swine" and "Killers", as
well as other names. I had no medical
attention for my frozen feet
and my leg wound. I hurt badly, and all I could do was pray. Finally
I arrived at Stalag 12-A. It
was enclosed by barbed-wire, and manned by German guards and
police dogs.
1st Miracle
The first of
my miracles happened while being marched from one
prison camp to
another. Mind you, it was awful cold during December 1944 and the snow
was ass deep all over Germany! In our group of
prisoners there were Canadians,
British and Americans. After being
forced to
march for days, the German guards decided to give us a rest in an old
barn in a small town. The barn was pretty good size so the guards shoved
180 of us into it. We all looked terrible - unshaved - clothes torn - no
food...my God we needed food! During this forced
march I again was eating snowballs - my stomach
growled at all times.
Most of the
fellows were sick. Some were badly wounded at the
"Bulge" and
still no medical attention of any kind. My leg hurt so - it was swollen
real bad, and the blood that had run into my combat
shoes was frozen stiff. It was a
mess! Late at night I asked the men
sitting close to the door to ask the
guard if any of the town people
wanted to swap some bread for the
goulashes that I wore over my
combat boots. After about an hour or
so the guard motioned to me to
come to the door. Once I got to the
door the guard pointed to an old man standing there with a loaf of black
bread. He stared at my
goulashes. Then I removed them and the exchange
took place - a loaf of bread for my
rubber goulashes!!!
I then took
the bread and I broke it into many little pieces and stuffed it inside
my shirt. Then I headed back to my corner in the
barn. During
the night I munched a little piece of bread at a time -I
munched it like a wild animal -so hungry! I was afraid to go to
sleep - afraid someone would steal it from
me.
Now remember, I gave
up my rubber goulashes and the rest of my buddies would not part with
theirs! It was so cold and I knew that was
their reason for not parting with theirs.
As God is my
witness, it seemed to me I was told to exchange mine
for bread to
keep me alive during this period of my life. The next morning the guards
ordered us outside and lined us up. The guard in
charge ordered every man to remove
his goulashes and put then all in
one big pile! Then the people in
town came forward and the guards
gave each person a pair - then they
all headed towards their homes.
My buddies could not believe that
this was happening to them -
stripped of
something that gave their feet warmth in this bad
weather.
You see, I had no goulashes but inside my shirt I
had life sustaining food to nourish
my hungry body. As we were again being
forced to march to God knows where, I
munched a piece of bread
thanking God above that someone, somewhere told me to make the swap
to feed the hungry body of mine!!! To me this was a miracle.
Sometime in
February of 1945 we were again forced to march toward
another Stalag
in a snow storm that was really bad. The Russians made a big push inside
Germany so we were being marched toward the western
part of Germany. It was so cold, I
shook all over as I marched along.
My leg was really in bad shape and
this cold weather wasn't doing it
any good. On each force march some
of my P.O.W. buddies die right
along side the
roads and in the fields we cross. When they fall, the German guards just
laugh it off!! They left the bodies lying in the deep snow. They were
pure rotten. Tears came to my eyes as I marched along. I can't believe
that human beings can treat one another this
way. My God, my God, why?
About the
fourth day we were coming into a good size town and the German people
here jeered us and called us all kind of names. We looked like hell, I
must admit. The weather was really bad and I was so cold yet I must go
on. My legs both hurt so bad and I just must suffer with them. I was
hungry - I was cold - I was sick - I hurt. I was ready to call it quits.
I had lost some weight. I was passing
blood already
through my rectum. Each forced march only make my
condition
worse. I didn't know how a man could suffer and still survive these
horrible marches. I know now how the Lord suffered carrying his cross to
be crucified. At that moment in my life I made up my mind I was going to
die that very night. I hurt so bad - lots
of pain - my mind was made up. This was to be my
last forced march.
God forgive me, I just couldn't
believe a human being could suffer
so much. Late at night we were told
to take a rest - we all sit in
the deep snow -
Do
tired! After
about twenty minutes, we were ordered
to march again.
I made up my mind right there I was through marching as a P.O.W. I was
going out of life - laying in the deep snow. God
forgive me - I am so tired and hungry and hurt so
badly!
The German
guard shoved his gun and bayonet at me and ordered me up to march - but
not me- I just laid there and was through with this
suffering in
life. The guard turned the butt of his rifle into my
side and said
"die swine" and took off with the column of P.O.W.'s.
So cold! So cold!
After a few
seconds I sat up and suddenly in the white snow in
front of me
appeared the face of Jesus Christ! He seemed to be saying
to me, "I suffered while carrying my
cross, you also can suffer
through these marches. You shall suffer much more but you shall live
through this holocaust". With
this the image disappeared. It seemed I
gained strength and forgot my
hunger. I got up and started to march
to catch up with the rest. I finally
got to the rear of the column
and I started
to say the "Our Father" and the "Hail Mary" as I
marched along. Even though my body ached - I was
hungry - it made no difference to
me. My soul was warm and I believed this was meant to
be. I loved all and I was being
loved by someone very, very close to
me. This had to be my lovely wife
Margaret and my family back home, but most of all by the face in
the snow!
Sometime in
March we were on a forced march again. The Americans
and the
British had made a big drive into the heart of Germany, so we were being
moved again. Before we leave the stalag we were issued a small piece of
horse meat and a quarter loaf of bread, and told this must last for a
few days at least. My clothes were starting to sag on
my body - I had lost a lot of weight
and still passing blood. It
wasn't a very good way to end up, but it may happen yet. My legs were
worse now and the right one is in real bad shape. I doctored it the best
I could, but I had nothing to put on it. The third day of the march,
with snow ass deep, we ended up in a town and were billeted in a big
barn overnight. We were a sad sight: haggard, tired, and
unshaved. What a sad bunch of
P.O.W.s. Some of the Canadian P.O.W.s
had been
prisoners for a few years and they kept saying that the war shall end
soon and the allies shall win. It did keep our morale up at
times!
Some of the
boys were like living skeletons - believe me - some
didn't weigh
one hundred pounds. Honestly speaking, I couldn't
believe the Germans were treating us
like this. At this time in life again I wished I had been killed in the
Ardennes at the Bulge! I felt
I would never
come out alive. I had already been in three
concentration camps. The end must be near for me.
The next day
we marched again and at noon hour we were crossing a German air field.
In the distance we see many airplanes but, due to
the lack of
gasoline they were not in the air. Crossing this air
strip - we were a long column of
hungry men - I was in the middle of
the column and daydreaming of my
dearest wife and home. As I looked
around I saw a small farm house at
the end of the air strip. Inside a picket fence there was a man milking
a goat. I kept watching him as I marched along. He had a big P.O.W. sign
painted on his jacket; a
political prisoner, I figure. He had blue and white stripes on his
uniform. As we marched by, he
noticed our column and he came toward
us with the goat milk in his hands.
He held a small bottle forward
and many hands reached out for
it...we were all thirsty and hungry.
We all reached out together. We were
all begging this man for that
goat milk. But at once he caught my
eye and I looked into his and he
slowly came forward. His hands
touched mine and he handed me that
bottle of milk...me above all
others!!! I took a small drink, then
passed it among
the rest until it is empty. I then handed it back to the P.O.W. from the
farm house. He looked me in the eye and smiled,
and I returned the smile then waved good-bye.
This may sound crazy
but of all the men in the column that reached for the bottle - why, but
why did he give it to me? Who guided him to reach over everyone else to
make sure I would get it first? It was a gift from him to me - but who
made sure I got the first drink? A
miracle, I'm sure.
I feel in my heart that I
believed so much in Jesus that he was watching over me at all times.
Later on, crossing the Oder River in
Pomerinia, we ended up
in Stalag 2-D, the worst concentration camp of them all. In this Stalag
I suffered with the rest of my buddies. Here
I helped bury many of them. Suffering - hunger -and
all else was
I hoped with all my heart the
Good Lord will let me survive this
nightmare in Germany,
Just to see my lovely wife at least one more
time - and my family - oh, how I missed them all!
A 1944 Christmas
As my wife and I enjoy each
Christmas, I have memories of my
childhood. I spent
my younger days in Glen Alum, West Virginia and we had such wonderful
times cutting our own tree and decorating it, then
singing Christmas
songs in Hungarian and English! Then many more
Christmases in old
Delray, a small southeast area of Detroit.
Christmas with my
folks, brothers and sisters and many friends. We
always went to midnight Mass to hear about the
birth of Christ.
The one
Christmas I so vividly remember, I spent in Stalag 12-A outside of
Limburg, Germany: A Prisoner of War Camp, surrounded by
barbed wire
fences and patrolled by big German shepherd dogs! It was
1944 - "The Battle of the Bulge" - I
was taken prisoner with ten
other buddies
of mine after defending the town of Winterspelt in the
coldest winter in Germany. There were many P.O.W.s
in this camp: Canadians, French,
English, Americans, Poles, and Russians. Some of
us still were suffering from battle
wounds, and all suffered
starvation, dysentery plus malnutrition. As prisoners, we had very
little clothing and very
little medical attention. Some of my
comrades were beaten by the Nazi
guards. One boy from Indiana was shot before our eyes - in cold
blood!
Being a
prisoner at Christmas in 1944 was a sad day in my life.
Just to see
all the suffering going on in this camp - it was a low point for all of
us in Stalag 12-A. Being the 25th of December we all
decided in our billet to have
Christmas. We took a piece of
cardboard, and
with a small pen knife of mine we cut out the shape of
a Christmas tree. Out of worn blankets and some
tin cans we made decorations for the
tree. Then we punched holes in the cardboard and put straw from
the floor to take the place of tinsel.
We all joined
hands together in a big circle and started to sing
Christmas
carols. While we sang our eyes filled with tears and we all
hugged one another, thanking God
that we were alive. Outside the
camp and
beyond, our enemy just listened to the songs being sung by
the men in our billet!
At noon, the guards
brought in some grass barley soup instead of rutabaga, and each man
received two spuds plus two slices of bread instead of one. Even though
many were suffering, our spirits on this day were high. We all wished
each other a very Merry Christmas. It
was a Christmas that I shall never
forget.
I have been married to
my dearest wife for more than thirty nine years and have raised seven
beautiful children, and at each Christmas time I say to myself thank God
for bringing me home. We have so much to be thankful for in this
beautiful country of ours!!! The Christmas
of 1944 is a faded memory now!
"The Meeting"
Being a P.O.W.
at Stalag 12-A was a nightmare! Our meals each day
consisted of
one small cup of rutabaga soup and a slice of black
bread. We all looked like hell - sick - unshaved -
no medical attention - slowly
starving, that's for sure. My leg gave me all
kinds of problems, but there were
buddies of mine worse off than me. I made up my mind to help those the
best I could. Each day I would
visit those that were laid up in the
building that held the really
sick. I would cheer them up and when I stole a little extra food I
would share it with them.
On December
29, 1944, the German Commandant ordered everyone
outside. It
was cold and snow ass deep. We were lined up and he told us all that
there where some more P.O.W.'s coming into camp that day
- to save half
of our soup and half of our bread. We are to share IL
with the incoming P.O.W.'s.
Around noon
the big barbed wire gate opened to let the new arrivals
enter the
compound. The P.O.W.'s inside formed a line near the gate
to welcome our comrades! There must
have been at least two hundred
men in the line coming inside. You
can tell as they entered that they
had been on a long forced march: they
are haggard and really hurting.
As they come marching inside I'm
looking and crying - my heart aches
so bad for
these men. ..they had very little clothing covering their
bodies.
Then all of a
sudden I see a very thin tall soldier - badly beaten
- I can't
believe my eyes - it can't be but yet it can be - it is, it
is!! My own brother-in-law -
Sylvester Krupinski!! I shout - I cry -
I holler: Chief..Chief..that was his nickname back home. He looked
around to see who was calling him, Finally he saw me, he gave me a faint
but sad smile and waved his arm. (I thought the Germans had killed him
in the Battle of the Bulge). He was in another regiment,
the 422nd Infantry while I was attached to the
424th Infantry.
Once inside,
the big gate was shut and these prisoners were put
inside a big
canvas tent the Germans had us put up a few days before.
All it
consisted of was some straw on top of the snow inside. That night I
crept over to see Chief. I had my extra portion of rutabaga soup and
part of my bread. I gave it to him and he ate it like a
starved animal. We hugged, we cried - he was in
bad shape - me with
I told Chief it wasn't right what
this Corporal Hall was doing but
he was in cahoots with the German
Commandant. I told Chief if he
wanted to give me his wrist watch I
could get Hall to give me a loaf or two for it. I looked up Hall in his
billet and to and behold under
his wooden bunk he had our extra
rations of bread hidden. I told him
my brother-in-law was starving and
needed some bread. For the watch the S.O.B. gave me one and a half
loaves to give to Chief. On the
other end of his bunk in a box
he
had all kinds of pens and wedding
bands and plenty of wrist
watches. That stinking S.O.B. and that
kraut sure had a nice set-up inside
12-A. The rotten bastards. I sure
would
like to kill them.
I took the
bread over to the tent that Chief was in and told him to
break it up in
pieces and put it inside of his shirt and share it
with no-one. I also told him the
Nazis would move them out within two days to somewhere else and he would
need every piece of the bread to
eat on the way. I told him to eat it
sparingly. The next day his
group had our
menu of rutabaga soup, some black bread, and some horse meat. They were
going to be moved out to another concentration camp
that afternoon.
I felt so
happy knowing Chief did not get killed and that I also
was alive. It
made my day and I prayed that no matter where they
take Chief, let the Good Lord let him
live until we get liberated.
Both of us. I cried as they lined them up to be forced marched out of
Stalag 12-A. Chief and I
hugged and said our good-bye with tears in
our eyes - we
shook hands - I wished him well. As he marched outward he turned back
and gave me a wave with his hand and a small smile on
his face.
It was a
meeting of a lifetime. That night I laid down and prayed
for his safe
return. I went to sleep with a smile on my face. We were
both alive!!!
Camp Lucky Strike France
"The
Exchange"
This is a true
story. It took place in France, 1945.
We were
liberated by the Welsh light medium tank corp at Marlag
near the
seaport of Bremen, Germany. There were about 250 prisoners
of war
in the concentration camp. At this time, most of the men
looked like living skeletons. Our meals consisted
of one cup of rutabaga, and a slice
of black bread. Malnutrition had started to
show on each and everyone of us. The
British Lories drove us out of the camp to a nearby air base and there
we were hastily examined by a doctor. The next day we were loaded
twenty five men to C-47 transport
planes(flying boxcars). We were then flown to Numur, Belgium to a
field hospital to be checked out and
deloused by the hospital staff.
We were fed a bowl of mush (oatmeal)
and a slice of bread, then told to go to sleep.
Next day we
are given the full treatment - our heads are shaved - arm pits - our
private sector. Then we were led into a stall and deloused again and
again with yellow powder. Being a P.O.W. five months I was loaded with
lice! Once we were deloused we were given
new clothes
and checked out by the doctors. We were taken to the
field hospital and given shots and
treated for our wounds and frozen
feet. Some had
frozen fingers or feet, or malnutrition - war wounds
of all sorts!
We stayed
there a few days at the hospital - being fed a little at a time to
expand our stomach wall. Due to lack of food we could eat
ourselves to
death! The doctor told me that in my life time I could
be bald,
become sterile, lose my nails, and have trouble with my legs
due to poor circulation.
We were flown
to Brussels, Belgium for an examination - all P.O.W.s from different
concentration camps. After two days we are loaded on a
train and are
told we are going to a place called "Camp Lucky Strike" in France. We
traveled most of the day and towards evening we arrived at our
destination. Everywhere you look soldiers and more soldiers.
All being processed and checked out
by doctors. We were in the same
situation. Here we were fed and
given new clothes again. American
clothes. In
Belgium we were issued British clothes. We were being given examination
after examination by doctors. They wanted to make
sure you were fit to make the trip back to the
U.S.A.
The second day
we were to Lake a urine test, to make sure no one
had V.D. Each
man was handed a small bottle to fill. Once done, each
man had to wait his turn in line.
While in line a boy from Wisconsin was ahead of me and a fellow from
Kentucky was in back of me. The boy
from Wisconsin
told me he was clean and would be headed home. The boy from Kentucky
told me he was worried because he had some bad women in France. He
figured he was diseased and this would stop him from going
home on the next boat.
and at this instant the boy from Kentucky swapped his
bottle with the
one on the ground. I
never gave it much thought at the time., but the
next day we were headed for LeHavre,
France to board the ship "Marine
Empty Bread
While a P.O.W.
of the Nazis during World War Two in Stalag 12-A
outside
Limburg, Germany, we had very little to eat. Our rations
for a day consisted of one slice of
black bread and one cup of
rutabaga soup. However, every third day all the prisoners were issued
three Turkish cigarettes by the Nazis. Since our food rations were very
little, we used these cigarettes to swap with other P.O.W.s. The
Russians that were in the next
compound would swap their bread for a
few of our
cigarettes. Not being a smoker it gave me a little extra
bread for my empty stomach. I swapped every chance
I had.
One day a G.I.
had a smart idea. He took the tobacco out of the
wrapper and
replaced it with straw to mess up the Russians. After a
few days, the Russians wised up, so
on the next exchange, to our
surprise, the inside of the bread dough was gone! All we got in return
for our butts were the outer crust of the bread. I had to
laugh and cry
at the same time. After this incident we were on our
one slice of black bread again.
A Traitor Among
Us
During my P.O.W stay
in Stalag 12-A in December 1944, I found an American traitor among the
prisoners! The Nazis knew everything that
was said in our billet, and who said
it. The Commandant of the concentration camp and Corporal Hall were in
cahoots all the way.
It was Corporal
Hall's job to issue each billet their daily ration
of bread and
soup. Each ten men in a billet had to share one loaf of bread, but the
S.O.B. made fifteen men share the loaf. Doing this he held back at least
10 loaves of bread each day. This was the set up between him and the
Commandant. They hoarded the extra bread under
Hall's bed - the bread that was to keep us alive
inside this camp.
Toward the
end of December 1944 I was weak and awful hungry -
little food and
cold as heck. Our daily ration just kept us going.
One day I asked a P.O.W. if I could
swap something personal for some
extra food. He told me about Hall
and his hoard of bread. I made it
by business to look him up. I entered
this situation inside a small
diary I kept
in my longjohns. Late in the afternoon I met him outside
of his billet and asked him about extra bread for
my empty stomach.
After a bit he
said he could get me a loaf or two of bread if I would give him my
wedding ring or watch! Being so hungry at this time in my life I agreed
to give him my wedding band for a loaf and a half of black bread to keep
me alive. I cried so hard, but being hungry I followed him inside his
billet for the bread he had under his bed.
Inside the
billet stood the Commandant of the camp! The corporal
lifted up the loose boards and
covered up with straw were rows of
bread that really belonged to all
the prisoners. Here the S.O.D. was
selling what
belonged to us for wedding bands, watches, pens to split with the
Commandant. In one corner of the bed he held many of these
items in a cardboard box that he obtained
from the P.O.W.s The Commandant
grinned because he and our corporal would split these
things among themselves. Every time
new P.O.W.s would arrive inside Stalag 12-A he made sure even though
they were starving that he would
end up getting something from them
for an extra piece of bread. What a price we had to pay to
survive.
I felt like
killing him at times. He sold our wretched starving bodies for a few
items that meant so much to us. Before I was forced marched out of this
concentration camp, I had no watch, no wedding
band, no pen.
This S.O.B. had it all. This man had my brother-inlaw's
watch from his two day stay at this stalag. He was so weak
when he
arrived, that he had no choice but to give it up for bread to
stay alive. He was one sick prisoner of
war.
I hoped if I lived
through this holocaust as a caged, sick and hungry animal, in the future
I could tell the world about this
American traitor. I
shall never forget the sneer on his face as we
were marched out of
Stalag 12-A for places
unknown in Germany.
He
should rot in hell!!!
Box Car Style
After being a
P.O.W. at Stalag 12-A at Limburg, Germany for a short
stay, one day
we were ordered to march outside of town and then
herded into boxcars. They forced 65
men into each box car - too many for such small boxcars. (Ours in the
States are twice as large). Once
inside, each man was issued a
quarter loaf of bread, a chunk of horse
meat, and a piece of stinking cheese.
Then the Nazi guards padlocked
each car so
we cannot escape. How long we were to travel, and to
where, only God knew. Once the padlocks were on,
the train headed somewhere inside Germany.
It was cold as
hell inside and we were half frozen because we
didn't have any
warm clothes to cover our bodies. All we had on were
our field jackets, shirts, pants,
and combat boots. Nothing else.
Inside each car the Germans gave us
an old fashion coal bucket to use as a toilet. You must believe me, this
bucket was filled within the
first few hours after being locked
in! The waste stunk to high
heaven, and we had no way to dispose of it. The rest of the trip, our
waste was done inside our
pants. The train was headed northeast
toward the
Russian front. Just by looking out a real small window and
reading signs of cities and towns we knew
we were going in that direction. The
second day men started to bitch and complain about
how cold it was, and how it stunk
inside the box car. We could
urinate between the cracks on the floor but that's all. The third
day, men had eaten their small
portions of food and some acted like animals toward their comrades. Some
men ate sparingly. Those that ate theirs too soon were begging from
those that had some left. What a sight. God let us live through
this nightmare!
I had put my
portion of food inside my shirt and at night I munched
on it slowly
to make it last a little longer. Somehow with God's help
I can survive this nightmare and let
the outside world know how we
were treated as P.O.W.s. This day I
was passing waste and blood
inside my own
clothes. I cannot help myself and I can't believe this is happening to
me. Locked in like animals and treated as such by the
supposed super race - the Germans!
The fourth day
enroute to our destination the engine was
disconnected
and the boxcars were left on a side track. A few minutes
later we knew why. We were left in
the open, because our own P-38's are strafing our boxcars. First one way
then they return and straff again - some of my own buddies were killed.
What a mess. We were like mad men: trying to get out and not being able
to - men dying - some praying - we clung to each other like little
children. I missed the bullets coming through the roof of the car. Thank
God for sparing me.
I helped those that were wounded the best I could,
and those that were killed we put in
one corner of the boxcar.
We saw the P-38's fly
off after a few minutes. Thank God for that. They must have thought we
were a German troop train headed toward the Russian front. That is what
entered my mind after the planes left.
Through the small window I begged the
German guard to open up and let
us out, but to no
avail. Then I begged him to hand me some snowballs because the men were
thirsty; some snow to quench their thirst. This the guard did do. He
handed me about ten to fifteen snowballs. Thank
God for this small favor. We needed the white
stuff bad. It sure
The fifth day
we crossed the Oder River and near the town of
Setten; the
train slowed, then stopped. How cold it was! I couldn't believe it.
Frost is a quarter inch thick on the bolts inside. After the engine is
disconnected, the guards take the padlock off each boxcar. They make us
unload the dead and wounded, then we were lined
up in the deep snow. My legs were giving me plenty
of pain. I hurt plenty, but there were some of my buddies worst off than
I! I pray for those that have been killed by our own planes.
We were lined
up like a bunch of cattle and counted off by the guards. Each man was
given a half torn blanket to cover their body. Snow was ass deep and the
temperature was zero and below. I can't
believe what the body can endure!
Our wounded
and dead were loaded on some wagons which were loaded with straw. Those
wagons were pulled by some large horses. I don't know where the Germans
were taking them. This place is worse than hell! I am so hungry..my
hands were so cold..my pants were loaded
with waste..
.what a mess! I eat a hand full of snow while we were
lined up. I
understand we were headed toward one of the worst P.O.W. camps in
Poland. You see, some of our own boys understood German and
just listened for information of any kind.
There were
about 250 P.O.W.s, and we were told to march. It was
hard marching
due to the deep snow and cold. After a few hours, we approach Stalag
2-D. I can't believe my eyes: four watch towers overlooking the big
camp, German watch dogs inside the place. There
were Russian P.O.W.'s inside
quaking at the Americans as we enter the
big barbed wire fence gate. There
are also some Jewish political
P.O.W.'s. They didn't look like they
weighed 80 pounds. They had
blue and white clothes on. They looked horrible. They were living
skeletons. There were ropes around
their necks and ankles, so they
could not escape this hellhole. A
few Canadian, Poles, and Russians
were there, and now we Americans.
The Canadians told us that they had
been there
since Dunkirk years before. They said that there was no
way to escape, too many watch towers keeping the
P.O.W.s inside. The few that tried were shot down in cold blood by the
guards.
We were led to
some wooden billets inside the camp, mixed with Canadians and Poles in
the same compound. I am so hungry and cold and had not eaten since I ate
all my horse meat in the boxcar. We were ordered outside by the
Commandant for a count off and told that there was no escape from that
place. We were told to wash up the best we
could because
we stunk like pigs, due to our pants loaded with our
own waste. I was weak and loosing
blood through my rectum. My weight
was down to about 140 from 186. This
worried me very much. I wanted
to survive so
bad. We used the snow to clean ourselves the best we
could. Later that evening we were led to a big
building to be fed.
Our meal consisted of
rutabaga soup and one slice of black bread,
plus a chunk of horse meat. What I
wouldn't have given for a pancake breakfast - an American dream!
After our meal
we were taken to another building and there we were
stripped of our
clothes and were deloused, for we were full of body lice. Before I put
my clothes back on I washed my underwear with snow
the best I could...it was a bloody
mess! I shiver from the cold,
because there
was no heat inside that building. I did the best I
could as far as personal hygiene under the
conditions.
Of the few
hundred men that started on the train, there weren't
many left
inside of 2-D. In my heart I felt somewhere, someone was saying a lot of
prayers to get me this far. I had faith in my God and I kept saying to
myself that if I should come out alive, I shall
attend Mass every Sunday without fail.
Stalag 2-D shall live
in my mind until the day I die. It was a prison camp that no woman
should ever see. There were human beings that were walking skeletons. I
still can't believe that the Germans
could treat mankind like that. The
place was hell!!!
For Honour and For Her
Somewhere, a woman, thrusting fear away ‑
Faces the future bravely for your sake ‑
Toils on from
dawn till dark from day to day -
Fights back her tears, nor heeds the bitter ache -
She loves you, trusts you, breathes in prayer your name -
Soil not her faith in you by sin or shame -
Somewhere a woman - mother - sweetheart - or a wife
-
Waits betwixts, hope and fear for your return -
Her kiss, her words, will cheer you in stride -
When death itself confronts you, grim and stern -
But let her image all your severance
claim -
When base
temptation scorch you with their flame.
Somewhere a woman watches filled with pride -
Shrined in her heart you share a place with none -
She toils, she waits, she prays, till side by side
-
You stand together when the battles done -
Oh, keep for her sake a stainless name -
Bring back to
her a manhood free from shame
This poem by Margaret Scraton
Copied by me in 1945
Stalag X-B
Bremeshaven, Germany
Dreams of My
Life
When
my dreams come true ‑
It was a year ago or so ‑
We said so long - short and sweet - And oh,
I miss you so !
You said you'd wait
for me -
No matter how long it would be -
If I return to you somehow, someday - I
would love you eternally.
I miss you each and every day ‑
Behind these barbed wire fence ‑
Your face I see in every star at night -
Just to embrace and kiss once more my ever
loving wife.
My love for you shall never die - It shall
go on and on -
Even tho I may not live ‑
I
shall see you in the great beyond.
I love you, dearest Margaret. Stalag
X-B
By Louis W. Tury
To my wife, Margaret
Prison Camp
Of all the places in
the world At least it
seems to me
A prison camp is not
the place For women's
eyes to see.
For months behind a barbed wire fence
Can warp the sanest mind
Unless it keeps some
sort of hold Or somehow
strength can find.
And hunger causes men
to steal The lowest
thing to do
And some behave like
animals To get some
filthy stew.
But the saddest thing
of all to see Is,
virile, manhood brave
Reduced to fleshless
skin and bones Like
those due for the grave.
So, God forbade that
you my sons Should ever
captured be
And pray that all
your battles then Shall end in victory.
Copied off the
P.O.W. camp billet wall - 1945 Stalag 2-A
Bremen Vorde,
Germany
My Wife Margie
Every time the sun comes out
My thoughts return to
you.
A Child's Prayer
Oh, daddy dear - I wish you could hear
The song I've made up
just for you
It's called "Come home as soon as you can"
For you see, we want you
so much
Just Mommy and me
Margie
As I look back
upon my life
My Mother
No finer heart could be found
Though search the world you may
No sweeter smile
could greet the morn
And drive dull cares away.
No
lovelier face could be my own
To
hold within my humble heart
A
pulse that beats for me alone
Though one day we did
part.
Once lovely hair,
now silvery gray Adorns that mother, so
sublime
No pasture, strong
could ere be bought Nor
found within the age of time.
I shall not need - I
shall not want - I'll
never find another
To
take the place of one so kind
God's masterpiece -
My Mother
Stalag 2-D
Pomeriania, Poland 1945
A Prisoner's
Prayer
Oh! God, my creator
and protector - I know that thow are near me, and so I adore thee and
give myself to thee, body and soul and with complete
submission to thy will.
Thow hast
saved me from death which has overtaken
many of my
comrades, and hast permitted that I shall be a prisoner of the Germans.
I shall bear
patiently and hopefully for the love of thee with
all the difficulties of my state. Bless my companions and myself here,
grant us to live in peace, comforting and consoling one another with
fraternal love and charity.
Blass my family who are far away, my friends and
all. I love my country and all my comrades in arms. Give me peace and
protect me from melancholy and
dispair; and above all, keep me from offending
thee. My God, I thank thee for all thy blessings
and I will try and serve thee as St. Peter said;
"Rejoicing in hope - patience - and in Tribulation"
A Time of
Passing
As I gaze in shades
of green I
see a face I've often seen
He's walking in a
midst of space He has a wise and aged face.
This man has lived a
life that's full
When brought into this
world you see
Horses and buggy for him, fancy cars for me
Pumping water was his way
A switch of a faucet in my day.
As a boy he knew great fun
Laughing, singing,
his races were run.
The time has changed
a bit since then Yes, playing and laughing
way back when.
Then years had passed, he grew much wiser.
In his eyes, a glow of fire.
A brand new interest, a thing called romance
No more games, he
then turned to dance A dancing here, a
turning there
He found one woman's
trust and care.
This woman he took to be his wife
Together they had found a house
And settled to be each others spouse
To them, one daughter soon was blessed
Then another. No more rest.
For soon a third, a
fourth, and more
A happy household and love soon outpoured.
A family loving - a
real earth mixed with heaven
And soon the last child, her number was seven.
The children are
growing and living their lives
I'm working my job and burden and
strife
But yet with my
children and wife, I feel tired'I
long for a place where my time can be
whiled
A place in the woods, My childhood dreams Can now be fulfilled with a
plan and scheme A certain place for the
wife and I
For the children to while - while times fly by !!
My Life Before
Me
As I lay upon my sick bed
My life before me becomes a spread
First my childhood in the West Virginia hills
Then my
youth with all it's thrills.
Then my marriage to my lovely wife
Next, World War II and all it's strife
My life so torn in war and lonely
A P.O.W. body worn thin and boney.
Liberated, hospitalized, and cared for
At the end of the terrible
war.
Returned to my loved ones, oh, so weary
Loved by my wife and family dearly.
As my life went on, I got
better
We started our lovely family together
Our lovely girls were our bundle of joy
Then our life, complete with our two boys
My life has been fulfilled
with happiness
My wife, my seven children with their tenderness
Lord, keep me well each and every day
Let me share in my family's happiness every way
I don't ask much in this life's passing
Just our families happiness forever
lasting.
Dad Tury
To each and everyone
in my family God bless you all.
To My Wife With Love Eternally
By Louis Tury Jr.
1979
Wrote when sick with my war legs
Your Monthly
Letter
She doesn't know what you're going
through
It
would be mighty hard if she only knew
The long hard days, just
sitting here
Stalag 2-D
Pomeriania, Poland 1945
Copied by Louis Tury Jr.
Louis Tury and the 3rd Squad at Camp Atterbury. Louis is standing, 2nd from left.
Page last revised 03/14/2008