The last hours before my capture were still rather turbulent. On a meadow near the Dutch border our group had taken up positions in foxholes, but on the 28th March were passed and cut off by the advancing British troops. Also, at a distance of about 300 meters a British Tank unit had advanced. As some of the tanks set off in our direction, we were afraid that in our foxholes they would destroy us either with flame-throwers or through rolling and swiveling over us and being buried on the spot. We had heard of both possibilities from other sections.

There were 8 men, each in a foxhole. We could communicate through shouting. Thus each of us sat and had to cope for himself with his difficult feelings. We were not really experienced front-line soldiers; rather, we had only quickly learned the most basic elements. We had no petrol for driving and over the past days had marched great distances. And the one German tank that we had seen two days earlier had also to be left behind because of shortages of fuel. Two of us still had an anti-tank weapon. Would they use them in an emergency? Fortunately for us this situation did not occur, the British tanks veered away. To make up for this, we were inundated with enemy infantry, from whom a section began to scour our sector for German soldiers.

The two young English soldiers who came towards my foxhole had at least as much worry as I. We let our weapons lie and were jointly led to a street, as expected, on which an almost endless column of British vehicles waited to advance further. We were in fact only a small group, but there were very many more of these small groups that had been brought together on a piece of land that had been surrounded with barbed wire. An English officer called, with name or number, the various German units who had been in our sector. They knew the exact information and were prepared for us. For us it was very depressing

I was pushed in here, again with other comrades of our unit. Altogether there were probably about 100 of us. In the evening we were given even more to eat: corned beef, a tin, and in addition a packet of biscuits and tea. Drinking was out of the lower part of the corned beef tin. We found ourselves on a damp meadow, that was not suitable for lying down. I can still see before me the great circle of sleeping-standing men. Each laid his folded arms on the slightly bent back of the man in front. No one could fall over, there were too many for that. We had certainly not slept off our weariness when the circle broke up early in the morning...

A column of British trucks brought us to Zedelgem, a small place near Brügge in Belgium, in a giant camp for thousands of prisoners. At the reception centre by the entrance we picked up a woolen blanket as well as an eating bowl as we moved into our new home. I can't remember if we even received some straw. The sleeping on the concrete floor however, was not very comfortable and we were not really spoiled. Because it was also still cold , we formed little sleeping groups; that means, we slept each time together with one or two others. Each had just one blanket, so we then laid one blanket under us and covered ourselves with the remaining blankets.

The main problem however was not sleeping, it was rather, the catering. At noon in the building a kettle with soup for 25 men at a time was delivered. We then sat around in a circle for the serving, in order to convince ourselves that distribution was fair. Each one received half a bowl full of a thin liquid, with two small or middle-sized potatoes. We were all as hungry as wolves and ate our soup completely inside a few minutes. For dinner for each there was a quarter of a light baked square of white bread that one could easily fold and press together to form a slice, and in addition there was tea, nothing else. The bread was also, naturally, eaten and forgotten in a few minutes.

We became gradually so that we couldn't stand up quickly without becoming dizzy. From time to time some skilled workers were asked for. I can still remember clearly that it became known that bakers would be required. My pal, with whom I was along with at that time, had at sometime also learned baking. He surprised me with his joyful proclamation: "We'll go there together!"."Are you crazy?" I answered, "I have still not even seen a bakery from the inside!".But he said, " We'll make that all right".

On the following days I learned in the mornings, afternoons, and evenings, such topics as sour dough etc. For me it was certainly lucky that nothing became of it; but for a start it is typical, that I already had my name placed on the list as an apprentice baker.

At the end of April it was announced that all former flying personnel and the navy would be transferred to England. Officially I still really belonged to the flying personnel, as the wings on the lower arm of my uniform showed . On the evening on which we ought to have sailed on a troopship there was such a strong storm that all shipping on the canal was stopped. Shortly after midnight--the storm had settled somewhat--we set off anyway.Right at the front, at the gangway over which we had marched onto the ship, at the fastened bow now sloping up at an angle, stood the toilet buckets. I sat, or crouched, almost amidships. One told one's self, that on a pitching ship it is really dreadful at the front. I noted also, that scarcely any one of them who wanted or had to go to there, came back to us. Since we were many hours underway I finally also had to go to the front. It was really terrible: the up-and-down pitching ship in a heavy sea, the sight of the unhappy ones who had not managed to return, and the appalling stench. I could scarcely keep myself on my legs. I still managed, with great effort of will, to stagger back. I did not return to my old place. At half way I lay on the lower deck. In the meantime the hatches on the upper deck had been opened. The fresh air brought some relief and I recovered again.

It must have probably been in the early forenoon when we arrived at mouth of the Thames in order to reach the Tilbury Docks. Now we were allowed to go, or crawl, up on deck. What a picture! The decks of the ships around us were full of starving, slightly unkempt looking, figures, with faces white as chalk, freezing in the cold morning wind. Not far from the pier a train was waiting which brought us to the London reception camp at Kempton Park, the big horse-race course.On the land around the racetrack stood many tents for the newcomers from the European continent. Since we again had corned beef and biscuits on the train, in the camp we went for the first time to the showers. In the showers there was real foaming soap; soap just as we could still remember from before the war. It was fresh and still not dried out. Before the showers we had been registered and had each received an English army kit bag, an artificially coloured English uniform (with big different coloured markings patched, each on the back of the blouse and on the trouser legs) as well as underclothes.

After the showers we put on our fresh underclothes and the new uniforms and packed our the old ones, which in the meantime had been cleaned, in the kit bag. We felt ourselves suddenly like human beings again, a pleasant long-missed feeling. We could almost already have forgotten the past week if, despite the corned beef and biscuits, we hadn't been tremendously hungry after the over-stretched and tiring bath-shower.One told oneself that a warm meal would be given. It was beautiful. We carried first of all our things to the allocated tents, and then went to a hut in front of which a great bunch of men were pushing near the narrow door. Here so it was said, warm food was being given. But always only small groups of five or six people at any one time came out and a corresponding number were then also let in. The sole reason for the slow service was the not excessively big dining room. We found a place. On the tables stood tureens with hot soup in which, beside vegetables and potatoes, there was much meat. These Tureens were regularly refilled. We received knives and spoons and could eat till we were satisfied. It was entirely, really satisfactory there.

On the next morning we were divided up into groups, which would be brought from Kempton Park out to camps in various parts of southern England. About another twenty belonged to my group In the late forenoon we went in army trucks in an easterly direction based on someone from a standing position blanking the sun. The countryside was slightly hilly and became more lonely. Somewhere then, our truck branched off from the column; we travelled now along a chain of hills. Suddenly we turned off from the road and stopped almost 20 meters in front of a big gate. We had arrived in Springhill Camp in the northern Cotswolds. Before us lay a great area of about 30 huts. Here I was to spend the next one-and-a-half years.

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