I mentioned in my main post that my mother was born on this day, 20th April, in 1920. Her family lived in a two up, two down, terraced cottage which fronted the main street in Claydon, a small village in rural Suffolk.
She and my dad met as teenagers and married in 1941, just before he went off to war.
My dad spent 4 of her birthdays as a PoW. (Strangely enough her birthday date was the same at Hitler's, a fact which did not really impress her!) I found this passage in his PoW diaries written in 1943, when he was in P.G 43 in Carpi, Italy along with around 2,000 men.
"Wed 31-3-43 was my second wedding anniversary and as P.O.W. I could certainly have managed some of the food there was 2 years ago at home.
During the early months of ’43, personal and cigarette parcels were arriving daily but were stored outside the camp. Every day, only about twenty men went out to draw a parcel and this was opened up in front of an Italian officer. He would only open a few parcels each day until our men persuaded him to allow them to bring about 100 or so into the camp office and await the Italian officer. This was done and parcels were distributed much quicker that way. It was too early for me to expect a parcel then as I had not even received a letter.
Yesterday, Tues 20-4-43, was my wife’s birthday and I only hope I am at home to celebrate her next.
At this stage I had time to write but could not concentrate for long and had to give up owing to my eyes aching.
Another event at 73 was roll-calls. These took place daily and came all times of the day. An Italian guard used to blow a call on the bugle and this meant we had five minutes to prepare for roll-call. If the weather was wet, everyone remained in their huts and lined up by their beds. When the weather was dry, everyone proceeded to the parade ground and fell in there. We then awaited the Italians. When they had counted us (generally two or three times) and were satisfied everything was correct, roll-call was over.
About every two months or so, the call would blow for roll-call at 8 a.m. This would mean there was going to be a nominal roll-call. This was dreaded by all as it meant a four to five hours’ wait on the parade-ground. We lined up on one side in alphabetical order according to our surnames. The N.C.O.’s were in front. Everyone’s name was called out and we in turn moved over to the other side as our name was heard. While this was going on, the Italians had some of their men searching the huts. As I have said, this was a long job and it was 1 o’clock before we returned to our huts.
When the weather was dry, classes were started and were held outside. Subjects such as French, German and Mathematics were given by our own fellows. As I had had three years of French at school, I decided to take advantage of the classes and improve on my French. I went three times weekly and this helped to pass away some time. These classes were given by a Quarter Master Sergeant Crocksford who spoke both German and French fluently. One could buy exercise books at the canteen and I have my books with me now which I often refer to."
My dad arrived home in Claydon in May 1945 and he and my mum enjoyed 40+ years of married life after the war.
©SWWEC
http://365project.org/quietpurplehaze/add-ins/2012-05-07
Linda, very many happy returns!
Readings from your dad's no doubt treasured diaries, could hush a room as, when I read this moving extract, I felt my soul quieten, my inner core slow & quieten, as in sympathy, to his/their plight. I am pleased a long & happy life followed.
Yes, makes a change from a sad ending! Thanks for your interest.