Fraternization with the locals.

It was in Knittelefeld Austria that we - that is "B" sqaudron 16/5th lancers - were billited in a three storey apartment block while rounding up the bad guys and being spat upon by a very old lady - and we had our rations cut to help feed the locals.

The only item of funiture in these apartments was a working electric stove and - immediately next door was a farmers field full of spuds - so to fill the gap between tea time and breakfast - roast spuds was the answer.

This went on for some weeks until the farmer thought that there might be a bit more to this mystery of his missing spuds than just potato blight and so he approached squadron HQ with a logical complaint - thus depleting our mess funds by quite a sum !

 

Tom

On the subject of "rounding up the bad guys" I would guess that almost all the "suitable" British units in Austria at this particular time could have been given this job description.

My diary reminds me:

Tuesday 24th. July 1945
Have been put in charge of a large billet which is for 3,4,5 & H.Q. troops.
Was shown Hager & his son, the local Hitler Youth Fuhrer!

Amongst our duties in this area were going out on various patrols to pick up known war criminals or senior state officials who were wanted for questioning. I remember going one day with Busty Thomas to pick up the local Hitler Youth leader, a certain Herr Hager. When we got to his house and he answered the door Busty said to me: "Tell him he's under arrest and has got to come with us." Hager then showed us a document from another field security unit that in effect gave him a week to put his affairs in order and then to report to the local town hall.

A very disgruntled Busty said to me: "I wish they'd bloody tell somebody what they're doing before they send us on a bloody wild goose chase!" and Herr Hager was left to get on with whatever he was doing at the time.

 

Ron -
we had a few of those as well as the right hand didn't always know what the left hand was doing...close to the winter a person appeared as a translator dressed in a big sheepskin and a cloth tie - so everyone assumed he was a new officer - he spoke excellent German and so was not even questioned by anyone..

he then demanded a jeep to carry him around all over the place from sqdn to H.Q.
and back and forth - he gave the lance jack driver no rest but as always demanding more and more......

Until the spring when the sun shone bright and warm and the sheepskin came off to reveal a lance jack - who was belted and left lying in the dust miles from anywhere by the lance jack jeep driver.

Cheers

 

Tom

As you know, the 4th Hussars were very much into horses and soon helped themselves to first class mounts from the SS Cavalry Div that we had taken prisoner. They also quickly picked up "grooms" from the POW camp we were running at Ferndorf.

When we moved back to Italy after our POW stint , quite a few of these German prisoners were dressed in khaki and smuggled back with the Squadron into Trieste and later Monfalcone.

As I understand it, they were given strict orders to keep quiet and not to speak German amongst themselves until the Squadron was back in barracks.

Once the actual fighting was over it became a very queer situation and looking back one has a job to convince oneself that these things actually happened.

 

Ron -
you have to admit though - we did get a few laughs now and again.

We were all learning German at the local high school and at the same time dances were being held at HQ which was at Althoven at that time so - we would pick up some local girls from Strassburg - take a three tonner attend the dance - and bring them all back to their homes in Strassburg.

One evening we were loading one of the girls onto the lorry when one of the chaps said to her - "du stinken sehr gut" - wherupon she belted him !

We thought it was good German !

Cheers

 

Ron; that last one's just bizarre!

 

Fraternising with the locals

a story that I related although on another site might be of interest to some people on this forum when our Regiment was being transferred from the Adriatic
Side if Italy to the Liri valley and obviously the Cassino side we were trapped by heavy snowfalls in the mountains around the Campobasso area and was snowed in for about ten days trying to manoeuvre around some of the treacherous roads during the drive had left me wish an almighty headache so on arrival at a small village called Montagano we were billeted in the local church hall within half an hour someone said there’s grub up so I volunteered to keep my eyes on all the kit while all the rest went to eat. After a minute or so I pulled the collar of my greatcoat up and went out to the steps and sat down it was now getting dark and as I sat down a young girl about twelve years of age sat beside me and said fredo not knowing a word of Italian I just smiled but I think Ron will tell you I was being asked if I was cold the girl left and within minutes returned with a bottle of wine not knowing where she had got it I was trying sign language to get an answer but to no avail as some of the lads were coming back she took my hand and gently persuaded me to follow her and took me to her house her older brother Antonio who was about sixteen put a chair up to the fire and tried to explain that Mumma would be home soon from church and for the next quarter of an hour we sat laughing because no one could understand a word either of us were saying so as I left to get my food I said thank you and went.
When I got back from the cookhouse the girl came to the door of the church hall with a large bowl of hot water and would only give it to me and explained in sign language
That it was obviously for washing and shaving so after I had finished the rest of the lads dived in and it finished a bowl of mud then on returning the bowl to the house they treated me like royalty they brushed the snow from my greatcoat and pushed the chair up to the fire and introduced me to Mumma and another sister named Helena that was about eighteen they all sat there their eyes transfixed on me it made me feel Like the head of the family and for the next ten days they treated me so special that it made me feel so humble
When we were given orders to leave the whole family stood in the snow crying and waving and Helena who I had remarked had beautiful black hair cut off one of her curls and put it in an envelope and gave it to me and yes a lump did come up in my throat (a beautiful moment in the turmoil of horrific times)

niccar

 

Tom

As you know, the 4th Hussars were very much into horses and soon helped themselves to first class mounts from the SS Cavalry Div that we had taken prisoner. They also quickly picked up "grooms" from the POW camp we were running at Ferndorf.

When we moved back to Italy after our POW stint , quite a few of these German prisoners were dressed in khaki and smuggled back with the Squadron into Trieste and later Monfalcone.

As I understand it, they were given strict orders to keep quiet and not to speak German amongst themselves until the Squadron was back in barracks.

Once the actual fighting was over it became a very queer situation and looking back one has a job to convince oneself that these things actually happened.
Great Story Ron! Some times reality can be stranger than fiction.

 

Niccar

A lovely story and so obviously brilliantly remembered.

One would have to be a hard hearted bxxxxxxd not to have been touched by the plight of the civilians we both encountered and yet they were ever generous with the little they had.

Look after yourself !

Ron

 

We had a lively football team when we were in Austria - winning more games than we lost.

One day we took on the village locals and thrashed them completely - taking them back to our mess for drinks and sandwiches and arranging another game for the following week end.

As always - we had underestimated the Germanic mind - and so the next match we were thrashed - over drinks they admitted that they had called the professionals down in Klagenfurt who had loaned them three professionals for the game !
Cheers

 

Did I ever tell you about that exceedingly high class restaurant in Trieste ?

I'll re-tell the first part of the story which goes as follows:

Back in Trieste after my leave (1946) I found that the riots were still in full swing and that many more of the old-timers had left. With some of my friends, I also discovered the joys of gracious living. I hasten to explain.
The YMCA in Trieste had taken over a leisure centre which offered, amongst other facilities, a chance to have one's laundry done. On Friday evenings my friends and I would come into town and make straight for the YMCA. Here we would have a shower, a haircut, change our Khaki Drill uniform for a clean set left the week before, and then, all spick and span, we would head for one of the best restaurants in town.
We would go right through the menu, including wines with each course, followed by brandy and cigars. But the best part was yet to come. Instead of paying cash for these blessings we would each sell a tin of 50 cigarettes to the waiter and the cash received was more than sufficient to pay for the whole evening's entertainment, including the earlier visit to the YM ! Strictly speaking, of course, the authorities would not have approved of our using army issue cigarettes for this purpose, but the result was that after our evening out we used to glow all the way back to camp.

So, that's the first part of this little tale but I still get a laugh out of what happened one particular Friday evening.

Selfish blighters that we were, my particular group of friends had kept our Friday night activities to ourselves until one day we were nagged by another Trooper, let's call him Jack, to take him with us on our night out.

The first part of the evening went completely normally until it came to the part where we paid the bill.
We, the original crew had already made their transaction with the waiter and our newcomer was told that the drill was to go to the washroom where the cigarette transaction could take place.

He caught the waiter's eye beckoned towards the washroom and they both disappeared from sight.

Within minutes he was back, literally as white as sheet.

When we asked him what had happened he stammered "He said he's run out of cash and can't buy any more fags tonight !". Faced with the thought of having to pay lots of lire (which he didn't have) he had visions of being faced with either the MPs or the local Polizia and being the sadists that we were we let him suffer for a while until we relented and settled his share of the bill.

The final sequal to this tale is that when in 2007 I went back to Trieste I tried in vain to find the restaurant but without success.

Ah me........ those wonderful meals have gone forever !

 

Then there was the time when we built a shower room complete with 12 shower heads - lots of hot water and an abundance of soap - changing room with benches shelves and hooks etc.

We gave the locals freedom to use this facilty on two days per week and soon it became evident that the young maidens would have a shower party on these occasions to the Lance Corporal in charge - who also noted the building of a Hornets nest in the changing room.......

The squadron was alerted to this and were gathered around when the L/Cpl pulled on a string which he had attached to the Nest allowing it to fall - and the hornets to exact revenge for the destruction of their newly built home.......thereupon the changing room door flew open and out poured the young maidens in all sorts of undress including the full monty to cheers of the spectators !

Cheers

 

Ooh Tom that's wicked. Love it.

 

We had been in Austria about two weeks and a couple of the lads walked to the nearest village called Millsttatersee to recce it as the saying went in those days not finding anything to report back to us with they decided to knock on the door of a small house and see if they could buy some eggs and a young lady around twenty years of age answered the door they stood there not being able to speak or understand a word of German and was making an oval sign to the poor girl that possibly confused her so she decided to slam the door so one of them put his hand out to stop her and caught the girl on her nose. Two days later our company was told there was to be an identity parade at 1100 hours and sure enough the girl accompanied by two military policemen turned up and she had a lovely black eye as she got to the first few lads in the first rank she and the MPs started to laugh and walk away every one had turned out in disguise there was false beards handlebar moustaches some had sunglasses on.
Sgt major Dyer had called the roll and was also highly amused behind him a corporal
that was pretending to be drunk was sizing up the Sgt majors head with a large wooden mallet it was hilarious.
Needless to say when the Colonel heard about the parade he went bonkers and said never again would any of his men go on parade to be gawked at by the enemy I will just add this story is absolutely true I was in the middle rank with a false wig I had made from some coconut matting and could hardly get my beret on over the top of it


Regards niccar

 

There were usually dances all over the place - "A" sqdn at Friesach - "C" at Tribach and "HQ" at Alhoven - so not to be outdone we had to have dance in Strassburg. A Committee was set up to include the SQMS - acting SSM - head Cook - civilian interpreter to get the word out - and a couple of squaddies.

A truck was sent down to Italy for the liquid stuff - the head cook excelled himself with canapes - sandwiches - and bits and pieces of chicken - beef etc

The Dance started at 2;30 one sunday afternoon in case it went on a bit and fell foul of the water mill freezing up which it did everynight leaving the whole village in the dark.The whole population was present with many generations all keeping both eyes on the young maidens.

Badly danced polkas and Vienna Waltz's were the norm - notwithstanding a demo by a couple of Ballroom experts from the Palais de Danse at Hammersmith and Sheffield.

Then came the interval with the erfrischergung - all the squaddies were so busy clearing up etc that when the music started again we were stunned to find that there was not one civilian to be seen anywhere. They had been entertained - fed - and time to go !

Cheers

 

Dealing with the local civilian population was always a tricky process during our service overseas and was fraught with either misunderstanding from both sides and this applied wherever we happened to be at the time.
While we were in North Africa I witnessed this happen between some of my compatriots and the local Arab imhabitants.

We were en-route to join our Regiment at Tunis.

As we made our way to Tunis, the train at times was moving at walking pace and the lads aboard were bargaining,swapping and selling their '50 cigarette' tins to the local Arabs.
The 'double sting' that I saw went as follows:
One of the lads had cut each cigarette into three and had packed the lower part of each tin of 50 with toilet paper. The cigarettes were beautifully arranged so that when the sticky tape that sealed the tin was peeled off and the lid removed, the tin was seen to be completely full.

The Arab trader,in turn, was offering what appeared to be completely genuine Egyptian Francs which he counted off in front of the soldier who was selling the cigarettes. The sting, from his end, was that each note had been carefully cut into two pieces.

Each party to the sting held on to their goods until the last possible moment until the train speeded up and then the Arab gentleman beat a hasty retreat whilst the English squaddie whooped with joy at what he thought was another good deal, until, that is, he checked the notes!.

On consideration, the Arab trader had the best deal, at least his cigarette ends were smokable. The squaddie lost completely out because his money was unusable. A classic case of the Biter being Bit!

 

On re-reading one of Niccar's stories
we were trapped by heavy snowfalls in the mountains around the Campobasso area and was snowed in for about ten days

I was inevitably reminded of my own experience of being snowed in at the small village of Carovilli. http://www.ww2talk.com/forum/italy/9596-christmas-hell.html#post118303

I have no doubt that virtually every soldier in the area also looked for similar hospitality and, dare I say it, companionship, from the local citizens and in my experience this was always offered without reservation.

 

This thread got me searching the old photos again ! , when dad returned from the war the old peel castle in our yorkshire village was being used as a POW camp for Italian and german prisoners who worked on the farms in the village and locality. Dad took a job on one of the farms and met the german soldier in the picture, he was known as old George and he and dad struck up a friendship. George would have his meals with dad and the family at the family home,Bank house, and would stay and play cards and sing around the piano until he had to retun to the camp.
He and dad kept in contact for a number of years after George was returned home to Germany.

Having problems attaching the pics !, Sorry Owen !, will try with links.
http://i305.photobucket.com/albums/nn224/york16/78th%20division/22.jpg

http://i305.photobucket.com/albums/nn224/york16/78th%20division/pow2Small.jpg