Tom Brown was a member of one of the largest Glemsford families. He was taken prisoner during the North Africa
campaign in 1942; he remained a prisoner until the end of the war in Europe, firstly in North Africa, then in Italy,
and then finally in Germany, very close to the city of Dresden.
Tom died on 5 July 2002.
These are extracts from an unpublished text. Tom gave me written permission to publish them here, but any further reproduction, other than for research or personal interest purposes, is forbidden without permission. I would, in any case, be grateful to be told of any use to which these extracts are put.
Christmas 1943 arrived and we had a four-day holiday. The Germans make a lot of Christmas and on Christmas Eve we brought in a Christmas Tree supplied from the nearby forest with lots of other green stuff for decorations. We got cracking and made paper chains out of labels taken off bully beef tins and any other coloured paper we could get hold of. It made for a very cheerful atmosphere.
We each received a Canadian Red Cross parcel with double cigarettes some days before, and on the afternoon of Christmas Eve we received a New Zealand Red Cross parcel, and because of our poor state of health at that time (I had virtually no flesh on my arms and legs at all), we had a Milk Parcel which contained especially nourishing foods such as Horlicks, Bengers Food and Bovril. So we were fairly well set up for the holiday thanks entirely to all our friends across the different seas.
Christmas Eve evening came and a lorry pulled up outside the lager and to our great delight and surprise, unloaded one special Christmas parcel per man for immediate and extra issue. We were still convinced that we were being remembered by the Germans for our strike action [another story]. After having been a prisoner for a couple of years or so it is difficult to describe the feelings when one is handed that cardboard carton, the feeling for the people at home who had spent their money to pay for the goods, the volunteers who had given their time to pack the goods, the government who released the goods, the various Red Cross societies who had shipped them and made all the multitude of arrangements to get them to us, so that we could enjoy the luxuries that even the people at home could not have. It is a feeling of ecstasy. We ripped off the lids with exclamations of joy and were ridiculously happy. The half pound packet of chocolate biscuits disappeared immediate1y.
The only adequate way to describe that scene of chocolate papers, pretty coloured paper packings and the general untidiness is to liken us all to children unpacking their Christmas stockings and presents, but with the addition of clouds of smoke. All of us were unashamedly homesick as we thought of our folks at home, especially those who had left young children behind, some of them they had not even seen and did not know when or if they would. Some men wept openly. We did not ridicule them - we felt for them. Others had lost parents and family, both by natural causes and by air raids. Some wives had left their men for another. Every one of us had a very serious attack of nostalgia, everyone dreamed of home, all of us grown men, but none ashamed to give vent to his feelings.
The Christmas tree was smothered with paper trimmings of every conceivable colour, the bare walls and the ceiling received their share of coloured streamers and for that night the carnival spirit reigned supreme. It was amazing how some of those fellows converted those papers into the most intricate designs and decorations. Yet another surprise was in store for three lucky men, for about 9 p.m. the interpreter came in and said "Christmas presents for three lucky fellows, a letter from home!" Eagerly those letters were read, everybody crowding round the recipients with queries. "How is home?", "What is the address on your letter?" "How long did it take?". They were the first letters to arrive for us in Germany. We came to Germany on September 24th and that was Christmas Eve. A fortnight later they started to come in a bit and we nearly all got at least one. My mates and I went to bed that Christmas Eve very happy.
We woke up on Christmas morning and started the day with egg and bacon, the eggs were powdered, with tomatoes, porridge, honey, bread and butter, jam and sweet tea which gave me a good start for the day. Eleven o'clock came and the Germans sent in a liberal quantity of beer for which we had to pay, so we sat and drank and yarned until dinner time. That was quite a fair effort by the Germans and included a few extra bits such as they could manage, but to be honest they were in very poor circumstances themselves. We reinforced their effort by a meat dish from the parcel, followed by a sumptuous Christmas pudding, also from the parcel. An announcement was made that the Germans would supply Christmas pudding but when it arrived it was more like a custard, thick, but not our idea of pudding. However it served admirably as a custard for our own pudding.
That pudding was subsequently issued from time to time in its powdered form which again was better as fairly good cooking facilities were available. More beer was issued, or we could brew tea, coffee, cocoa, or practically anything that one fancied. Card playing occupied the afternoon, followed by tea consisting of meat paste from the Germans, meat or fish from the parcel and biscuits, butter, jam or any of the other good things we fancied, rounded off with a good long drink of hot, sweet tea and a chunk of real English fruit cake.
Once again we said if only the Red Cross workers could see the boys when eating and hear their remarks they would realise how futile and weak are votes of thanks and letters of appreciation, compared to the real lusty and truly heartfelt remarks passed when ones eyes and stomach feast on the sustaining foods being devoured. After tea and after my stomach had had time to settle a bit, beer was again brought in, then followed a great sing-song in which all songs, old and new, clean and often not-so-clean were sung lustily in the good old soldier's style, tune being forfeited for volume, and we certainly made those rafters ring. Solos were sung, most of us doing our best, and in that way passed a most enjoyable evening.
Just before closing our sing-song everybody filled their mugs and toasts were drunk to our folks at home, that toast was followed by a most poignant silence to enable us all to carry our minds and thoughts back home for a few moments and try to picture the scene and our families on that night. Would they be merry-making, would they be thinking of us?
We knew they would. We hoped they would not be too worried about us, but we knew they would. We willed them to cast their cares aside for one night as we were doing. We were roused from our reveries by someone shouting "Here's a toast unto His Majesty" so we drank to the King, to England, to victory - God make it soon - to the Armed Forces, and finally but by no means least to those of our comrades who had fallen in the great struggle and we all knew quite a few who would never make the return journey home.
About midnight I thought it was time I fortified the inner man again, so with biscuits, butter, cheese, salmon, bread and cake washed down with a generous mug of cocoa I finished my Christmas Day 1943. I had eaten well and of very good food, thanks be, as I have said to our many overseas friends, and went to bed happy and contented. Lights out was suspended for the holiday so there was no groping around in the dark for the toilets, which was a boon.
Boxing Day was more or less a repetition of the previous day, the main difference being that I ate very little tea, having during the afternoon consumed a quarter pound bar of chocolate, half a pound of raisins with a pint mug of lovely "Horlicks Malted Milk". The sing-song of the previous evening was resumed. The third day also being a holiday, the festivities continued, and so Christmas rolled by.
It had been, considering the circumstances, a wonderful Christmas and it took a long time to get back to our normal routine.
New Year's Eve came round and a two-day holiday with it. We had worked an extra shift to enable us to have a long holiday. We celebrated in the usual manner. We saw the New Year in and drank a toast to 1944 and the hope it would see the end of hostilities. Then once again we settled down to a normal prison life.