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In Their Own Words ....
古伕言情小说,好看的古伕言情小说 - 奇书网:2021-1-13 · · 晋江VP2021-1-11完结总书评数:327 当前被收藏数:1337花畔自小被幽冥之主临渊养大,灵力无边,是冥界赫赫有名的一霸。自幽冥之主魂飞魄散后,众鬼想欺凌花畔,却个个被打的鼻青脸肿。
33 1/2 Months as a Guest of Der Fuhrer ... and a Week More as a Tourist, 55 Years Later
by Rev. William W. Williams III
I n the summer of 1942 I was the signalman aboard the SS Carlton, a Merchant Marine vessel bound for Murmansk, Russia with military supplies. She was sunk by a torpedo from a German U Boat on the morning of July 5 in the devastation of convoy PQ 17, 350 miles north of Norway.
[Editor's Note: William W. Williams III was sailing as a member of the Navy Armed Guard. Armed Guard units were established in the early days of World War II in an attempt to provide defensive firepower to merchant ships traveling in convoy or alone. The ships and men of the merchant marine were what transported the war materiel, supplies, equipment and even troops needed to fight and win the war.
The Merchant Marine suffered a casualty rate higher than any other branch of the military, losing 9,300 men. Most of the losses occurred in 1942. The United States Navy Armed Guard (USNAG) were U.S. Navy-enlisted gun crews (Gunner's Mates, Coxswains and Boatswains, Radiomen, Signalmen, Pharmacist's Mates and, toward the end of the war, radarmen serving at sea on merchant ships.
The vessels in the Carlton's convoy was proceeding under a close British and US naval escort but were left unguarded and then scattered after covering cruiser forces withdrew to intercept a German raiding flotilla. The convoy subsequently lost 24 of its 35 ships in a week of daylight attacks by German U-boats and aircraft, and the Carlton was one of those lost.]
courtesy Peabody Essex Museum, Salem, Massachusetts.
SS Carlton
I was one of 24 "rescued" by German seaplanes (the rest of the crew drifted, rowed and sailed for nearly three weeks, landed in Norway, and joined us in Milag-Marlag Nord much later.)
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We who were picked up landed in Kirknes, Norway, and were incarcerated in Stalag 322, a camp for dissident Norwegian schoolteachers. I was given a dog tag hammered out of a tin can with the number: 322/1927, my identification for the entire time—I still have it!
On a German cargo ship we reached Oslo, Norway. On a larger and faster ship we came to Aarlborg, Denmark, and by train to Wilhelmshaven, Germany. Because we were the first Americans to be captured, and there were no American camps at the time, we were taken to Milag-Marlag Nord, in Tarmstedt, a short way from Bremen, a stalag for British Navy prisoners.
Non-commissioned officers were not required to work, and I could have remained there for the rest of the war, but I wished to escape. So, I exchanged identity with a British seaman who was being forced to work. In April 1943, posing as Henry Rose of England, I went by train to Charlottenhof, Obersilesia, to work with a small group of prisoners repairing an irrigation canal.
Five days later, another prisoner and I walked off the job. We thought we had everything planned, except that we didn't know about the tracking dogs in the next village. They soon found us, and we surrendered and were separated. I was taken to Stalag 8B in Lamsdorf.
A short time after, I was called to headquarters, presented with my original dog-tag (322/1927), and sentenced to five days solitary confinement on bread and water for escaping and trying to confuse my kind "rescuers." I never found out how they discovered the switch in identity.
At that time (April 1943), an American Army sergeant and I were the only Americans in 8B. Because we were non-British, we were housed in compound 10 with prisoners from India, Australia, New Zealand, North Ireland, Greece and Canada. The Canadians were from the Black Watch Division and had been captured in the failed landing at Dieppe, France. Because of circumstances surrounding their capture, they were forced to wear handcuffs day and night.
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While in 8B, I began attending church services and was called into the Christian ministry. After the war, I returned home, went to college and seminary, and am now a retired American Baptist minister.
In February of 1944, I was transferred to Stalag 2B in Hammerstein, Pommerania, an all American camp. I became the acting chaplain when the present chaplain was repatriated. In this capacity, I went out of the camp for many weekends to hold services at the various arbeits kommandos.
I was in the city of Danzig in January of 1945 when the Russian army broke through on the Eastern Front. The city was evacuated, and I was on the last train to leave the city.
By early February, the Russians were approaching Stalag 2B, and the camp was abandoned by the Germans. We were placed in groups of three hundred or more and headed west on foot.
[Editor's Note: In the final stages of World War II in Europe, as the Soviet Army advanced into Germany, Allied POWs, without adequate rest, shelter, food, clothing and medical supplies, were force-marched westward in groups of 200 to 300 in the so-called "Long March." German authorities had decided to evacuate their POW camps in order to delay liberation of the prisoners.
From a total of 257,000 western Allied prisoners in German military prison camps, over 80,000 were forced to walk across Poland, Czechoslovakia, and Germany in extreme winter conditions over a period of some four months.
At the same time, hundreds of thousands of German civilian refugees, most of them women and children, as well as civilians of other nationalities, were also making their way westward on foot.
January and February 1945 were among the coldest winter months of the 20th century in Europe. The march from Stalag VIII-B (referred to as the "Lamsdorf Death March") was similar to the better-known Bataan Death March (1942) in terms of mortality rates. Official sources estimate that 1,121 U.S. POWs did not survive.]
After wandering around for sixty days, we crossed the Elbe River at Domitz. On April 14, we were strafed by American planes and I ran away. I was lucky to come upon an American outpost and was free at last!
[Editor's Note: (The following account was provided by Rev. Williams's daughter.) "After he escaped and made it to the American army encampment, Bill played an instrumental role in rescuing the 300 prisoners he had left behind. He led an army truck convoy back to where his fellow marchers had become pinned down in a firefight with German soldiers. He was in the front seat of the first truck waving frantically to his friends, who at that point must have figured they had pretty much run out of luck."]
By truck I went to Hildesheim, by plane to LeHavre and Camp Lucky Strike, where I rejoined some of the men from my ship whom I had not seen since my first escape. By plane together, we went to England and by ship to Boston, MA and home.
Epilogue:
For many years after my return, I entertained the hope of revisiting the sites where I had been held as a prisoner of war. Finally it became possible. My son William W. Williams IV and I flew out of Logan airport in Boston on Oct. 10, 2000 at noon and landed at Tegel in Berlin.
We picked up our rental car and headed for Bremen where we stayed the first night. In the morning we traveled east to Tarmstedt, the location of Milag-Marlag Nord, just eighteen miles away. It had been a camp for enemy Navy and Merchant Marine sailors and was where I spent the first nine months of my captivity.
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MILAG-MARLAG NORD: Our first stop in Tarmstedt was at a bank to exchange some currency, and begin our inquiry to locate the camp. No one in the bank could speak English, but as I am still conversant in Deutsch, I said I had been a "Kriegsgefangener" there in 1942, and wanted to visit the area.
An elderly farmer was in the bank cashing a check. When he heard the word "Kriegsgefangener" he came right over to us and said "Warten sie hier, bitte", and then went to the telephone.
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William W. Williams III, USNAG Signalman, at ease
He had asked me to wait while he called the Burgermeister (Mayor), who knew all about the prison camp and would like to meet us. We got in the car and followed him to the mayor's house.
What a stroke a luck! We could never have found it by ourselves. The entire area had been demolished and obliterated and planted to forest some forty years ago.
The mayor took us in his own car down an old logging road to one lone barracks that had been preserved in the middle of the forest. It was now a private dwelling.
That is all there is left of a compound that held Royal Navy sailors and Merchantmen since 1940 and the crew of my ship which had been sunk in 1942. Incidentally, the area is now called "Westertimke."
A single barracks: all that is left.
The mayor told us of the editor of a nearby newspaper who had collected a documentary of the camp. After good-bye to the mayor and the farmer, we headed for the town of Zeven, and found the newspaper office. The editor himself was not available, but had left word for one of the staff to take us upstairs to the archives and show us newspaper size photographs of the camp taken through the years. On the table was a documentary brochure that had been printed and was for us to take home.
STALAG 2B HAMERSTEIN: Our next destination was Stalag 2B. That was the last camp I was held from Feb. 1944 to Feb. 1945, when it was abandoned in the face of the Russian advance from the East. The camp was broken up into groups of three or four hundred men and marched on foot westward, wandering seemingly aimlessly until we reached Saltzwedel some sixty days later. That's where I left the column and liberated myself into the hands of an American gun emplacement.
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As we wound our way eastward to Stettin, where we stayed overnight, I recalled we had been herded into barns at night to sleep and were now passing the very ones in which we had stayed.
Hamerstein is no longer on the map. It is now a town called "Czarne."
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We inquired at Town Hall, and one of the employees graciously drove us to the campsite. Like Marlag, it had been leveled and planted to trees. Because thousands of Russian soldiers had been imprisoned there too and had perished through disease and neglect, during the Russian occupation the mass graves had been dug up and the bodies reburied with markers.
In a small park there is a tall memorial marker and as far as the eye can see there are the grave markers with the hammer and sickle emblem.
The town has a public relations booklet which contains a short history of Stalag 2B and a picture of the memorial park.
Credit: MOs810 / CC BY-SA (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)
Okonecczyzna (Stalag IIB Hammerstein) marker in Czarne Memorial Park,
Czarne Memorial Park, plaque at base of monument
Czarne Memorial Park, with Hammer and Sickle gravemarkers
STALAG 344/8B LAMSDORF, OBERSILESIA: Before going to Stalag 8B, Bill and I took a side trip to Gdansk. I was there on a preaching mission out of 2B in Jan. 1945 when the Russian army broke through on the eastern front. Because of the Russian advance, the entire civilian population was evacuated. I was on the last train to leave the city on my way back to 2B.
After spending the night in Gdansk, Bill and I headed south to Lamsdorf, now Lambinowisce, the site of Stalag 8B. The Lamsdorf camp complex was created during the Franco-Prussian war and operated during the First and Second World Wars. Soldiers from all the armies fighting Germany were imprisoned there. During WWII, around 300,000 prisoners of 50 nationalities passed through Lamsdorf. It is now an elaborate POW museum similar to our Andersonville.
Credit: Julo / Public domain
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Nearby there is a huge public park where thousands of Russians had been housed, and where they died by the thousands. In the midst of the park there is a huge monument commemorating all the prisoners of all the wars. The site where the British (4,000) and the Americans (2) were held is now a Polish army artillery range and not accessible to the public.
The staff at the museum was glad to see me as the first confirmation that there had been any Americans there at all. I was there for ten months from May 1943 to January 1944, where I did 5 days solitary on bread and water for having escaped originally. The museum has publications and videos and a website well worth visiting. www.cmjw.pl/en/lambinowicki-rocznik-muzealny
Before returning home, Bill and I spent two nights and a day seeing the sights of Berlin.
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 Westbound march, on foot (1945);
 Eastbound stops, by car (2000).
Distance: 355 mi. (571 km)
posted 7/8/20
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