“FUN IN THE BAG”

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 11, Issue 81, 17 September 1947, Page 6

“FUN IN THE BAG”

PRISONERS OF WAR IN AUSTRIA The scene was Stalag 18A in Austria, the time was when Allied bombing had disorganised the food supply; and the cause was that iri consequence the bread ration was cut to one slice a day—at least that and Cockney humour. For the Cockney in question, one Tommy Cameron, received his slice from the portly Sergeant-Major distributing it, eyed it thoughtfully .... “What’s this, mate?” he asked slowly. “That’s your day’s ration,” came the reply. “Gor blimey—l thought it was holy communion,” came quick as a flash from the irrepressible Cockney —and the tragedies of privation and imprisonment were for a moment forgotten. This was one of the many stories told by Mr Legerwood, of Hamilton, in his most interesting address, “Fun in the Cage,” delivered at a well attended Nationalist Club luncheon recently. The Cockney was irrepresible, his humour bobbing up at all times, especially when things were at their worst—even in the stone quarries—they depended largely on the Tommies’ for entertainment; the Aussies helped to make life bearable by their two-up schools—but when it came to standing up to <the Germans, he was right there on the job; whilst he thought the New Zealanders most notable for the way they induced loyalty until complete and utter loyalty became the recognised thing amongst all the British prisoners.

“It was this humour, loyalty and coo-peration that made our four years of indignities, humiliation and even occasional brutality at the hands of the Germans pass—he paused slightly—“fairly quickly, didn’t it, Buster?” and “Buster” R. E. Gardner, of Pio Pio, who had just been castigated—and praised— as a particularly persistent blackguard, thief and general source of annoyance to the Germans during his sojourn in the same camp, readily nodded assent. For Mr Legerwood stressed that never before had there been a bigger or more loyally-re-sourceful band of pilferers, rogues and double dealers than were assembled together in the 14,000 British prisoners at Stalag ,18A, where he was acting chaplain for four years. Attached to and part of this camp were working camps—two or three: men working camps, mainly on farms, whose inmates had a marvellous way of dealing with chickens and pigs, and an even more marvellous line of talk if caught out, down to camps with 700 men. --During the four years there were thousands of attempted escapes

—one 'rather stocky fraulein being baited whilst passing a working camp had some colourful language to pass in an aside: —and the net result was that the “third front” tied up three divisions in Austria to handle the recalcitrant prisoners of war. He mentioned one “disciplinnaire” camp which mounted nine guards for 25 men, whilst an exactly similar but milder camp was in charge of a corporal. Towards the end when all the younger men were at the front and guard duty was taken over by old men, white-haired and with greatcoats trailing on the ground, there came an edict that the prisoners of war must not sing various versions of “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,” and marching songs that put them out of step! The much disliked German doctor in charge of the medical camp, too, did eventually find that “Egyptian eczema” was the invariable result of condensed milk being thickly smeared on a braised arm! /

In fact, things got so bad that at one stage the Commandant let it be known that he was going to put a number of prisoners of war in a specially built barracks in the centre of the camp. The mistake was letting this fact be known—for by some mischance a time bomb set the barracks on fire just after the final inspection; by another strange mischance the water mains refused to function for fire-fighting, and when they were running again the hose was mysteriously cut. And yet at the time the British were all in their compound and behind strong guards.

The awkward days after Salonika, the difficulties of adjustment during the first four or six months behind the wire, the reckless abandon with which the first Red Cross parcels and the next of kin parcels —most appreciated of all—were received, were reviewed briefly by Mr Legerwood. What those parcels meant as a variation from turnip swill, potatoes in their jackets, and occasionally a little bit of horse or Alsatian dog could be recognised, “In parcels we 'New Zealanders were blessed above any nationality, we had more mail than anyone else, and more next of kin parcels, the contents of which we were able to share with others less fortunate,” stated Mr Legerwood. At first the camp <had absolutely nothing—then came the flow of materials, coinciding with marked ingenuity in the adaption of pilfered goods. Eventually, with the scenery formed from acquired material—blankets and bandaging—the most ambitious plays and other presentations were produced—he quoted one with 26 scenes and 150 players. A yote of thanks proposed' by Mr Willis Walker was carried by very hearty acclamation. .