Hi For over ten years I have been trying to find the name of the village where POWs from Stalag XXA were liberated by two American tanks with coloured crews. From reading about Anthony Coulthard I think I may have solved it. After helping at Hamlin Railway Station my father had dysentry and a few other complaints so he has no recollection of events after that. At the end all the POWs were sitting in the sunshine, on a bank, watching trucks move overhead from one side of the road to the other. An American girl rode up yelling the Americans were in the village. The guards tried to make them run up the hill until they went through a field to the village barn below. Unknown to them the Americans were watching them and intended to machine gun them but the POWs disobeyed their guards and refused to march in orderly formation. It was for that reason they realised they were dealing with English POWs and their lives were spared. Does my father's description fit Kaltenhof? That night all the guards fled. Thank you Jacky
Hi For over ten years I have been trying to find the name of the village where POWs from Stalag XXA were liberated by two American tanks with coloured crews. From reading about Anthony Coulthard I think I may have solved it. After helping at Hamlin Railway Station my father had dysentry and a few other complaints so he has no recollection of events after that. At the end all the POWs were sitting in the sunshine, on a bank, watching trucks move overhead from one side of the road to the other. An American girl rode up yelling the Americans were in the village. The guards tried to make them run up the hill until they went through a field to the village barn below. Unknown to them the Americans were watching them and intended to machine gun them but the POWs disobeyed their guards and refused to march in orderly formation. It was for that reason they realised they were dealing with English POWs and their lives were spared. Does my father's description fit Kaltenhof? That night all the guards fled. Thank you Jacky Hi Jacky, Just a quick holding message, will answer in depth when I have looked at what I have got from the National Archives about the routes undertaken. I think the prisoners marched beyond Kaltenhof before being released by the Americans, as it is just on the West Bank of the Elbe and they passed through it on 24 March. Steve
Hi For over ten years I have been trying to find the name of the village where POWs from Stalag XXA were liberated by two American tanks with coloured crews. From reading about Anthony Coulthard I think I may have solved it. After helping at Hamlin Railway Station my father had dysentry and a few other complaints so he has no recollection of events after that. At the end all the POWs were sitting in the sunshine, on a bank, watching trucks move overhead from one side of the road to the other. An American girl rode up yelling the Americans were in the village. The guards tried to make them run up the hill until they went through a field to the village barn below. Unknown to them the Americans were watching them and intended to machine gun them but the POWs disobeyed their guards and refused to march in orderly formation. It was for that reason they realised they were dealing with English POWs and their lives were spared. Does my father's description fit Kaltenhof? That night all the guards fled. Thank you Jacky Hi Jacky, Have had a look at the route that the XXA column undertook. If you look at "Long March POW Casualty 1945, J A R Coulthard" thread, it is on pages 9 and 10. According to the Commandant, the route in Germany was: Demmin, Schwerin, Haggennow, Zarrentin, Domitz (23 March) Kaltenhof (24 March) Saltzwedel, Giffhorn, Fallingbostel, Luneburg, Domitz (again) Zarrentin and Hamburg. I don't believe the column met the Americans until April but that doesn't mean that it may not have been Kaltenhof. The column crossed the Elbe at Domitz twice, once on 23 March from East to West and once some time after that from West to East. This was because they turned back to avoid the advancing Americans, As Kaltenhof is exactly opposite Domitz, on the other bank of the Elbe, it may be where your father was released. Barbara and I haven't visited Kaltenhof yet, we will in May but from what I have seen on google earth and maps, it is very flat, right on the Elbe water meadows. I don't think there are any hills to run up. Hope that is of help. I hope you will find the Antony Coulthard thread of interest. Regards Steve
Jacky, Here is the Charge Sheet for War Crimes against Hauptman Mackensen, the German Officer in charge of the XXA Column. If you look at the dates of his crimes, it ends on 12 April which is when the column was probably relieved by American forces. Steve
Hi Steve Thank you Back to square one. Jacky Hi Jacky Steve Foster is getting very knowledgeable on that particular forced march, so I think you'll get some helpful leads. Regards Barbara
Hi When my father first had trouble walking he purchased a second hand typewriter and wrote his story in 64 A3 pages. I found it, and, with his permission wrote it up. Then I spent hours questioning him. He told me there were three things he would not tell me: 1 the name of his friend who committed suicide when they were captured (I never bothered with it because it was done so his family could claim money) 2 his escapes - I know he escaped and was captured three times but he found the subject painful so I tried in other ways: his POW record file was empty 3 concerned his medical troubles. He mentions in passing he suspected frostbite but I thought no more about it. I was allowed to see his medical records from his post-release hospitalisation and it recorded the subject. I phoned home to say he had never told anyone about it, he answered the phone and burst into tears when I mentioned it. My Mum took over wondering what on earth I had said but she knew nothing about it either. Only his mother knew and she died while I was still at school. I have enclosed the chapter on his leaving Stalag XXA and hope it helps someone. CHAPTER 19 THE MARCH FROM POLAND The camp at Thorn, had been my home on and off for just over four and a half years. After marching out of the gate, towards the end of January, we, accompanied by far too many guards, and a few dogs turned right at the end of the wire surrounding it. After passing through the German army training ground we came to the fir woods. The going was a bit better here but ever since we left the camp it had been icy and slippery. Eventually we reached the ice covered main road with piles of snow on the side. We were told that a convoy of German lorries, which had just passed us, had driven through a party of girls from a concentration camp, killing many of them. Of course, they never stopped and the dead bodies were still lying in the blood-splattered snow when we walked by. We were walking through a fir forest but the road was still bad going. It was nearly dark when we reached the end of the forest and turned into a field for the night. Sleep was impossible owing to the cold and the depth of the snow; it was about two feet deep. Although I had an overcoat on I tried to snuggle down as low as I could to get out of the wind, I thought it might be a bit warmer near the grass. I failed miserably, and I think it was at this time that my feet became frost bitten and swelled up. It was a terrible job to get my boots on and off. Later into the march I met a medical orderly who told me not to remove them so I obeyed his instructions. I was not the only one to suffer with the cold, the guard nearest to us felt it as well. During the night two of the guards froze to death: morning could not come quickly enough for my liking. The girls from the concentration camp slept in the wood next to our field. I think one or two men managed to get in with them but I never bothered. It seems that during the night a pig disappeared. Its sty was burnt, it was suspected that it kept a few POW’s warm, but there was no sign of the animal. I wish I had known about it because we had nothing to eat except what we could steal from fields and everything was frozen solid. We started off on our walk again and walked until late at night, when we came to a disused factory. That night we slept on a cold concrete floor, even with my overcoat covering me I was still freezing. We were just outside Bromberg and shells were travelling backwards and forwards, all night long. The Russians sent their weapons over and the Jerries replied. Sometimes we walked all night if the Red Army seemed too close for the guards comfort. After a second night sleeping in the snow and that night on the concrete floor the guards tried to find us barns to sleep in. We even walked more miles than usual, until we came to a barn. On our way to the German border, we walked through the village where my last farm had been and I saw the villagers cutting down trees on the road to Vandsburg. I saw some people I knew but could not acknowledge them. I saw Sergeant Major Letts, as did many others, walking across the fields in the wrong direction. He looked drawn, his eyes were blank and lifeless, and he looked as if he had not washed for days. As far as I know Sergeant MacDonald did not march with us. That night we slept in the abandoned British POW camp at Vansdburg. I saw my old pyjamas again, the ones that I had embroidered with my initials and dyed in the sugar factory. I even saw the WGH I had 'embroidered' on the pocket. I had dumped them soon after we left the camp at Thorn and saw them being worn by a girl prisoner, I presume from a concentration camp, because their guards wore black uniforms and had the skull and crossbones badge on their caps. The first time I saw the girl she had survived the lorries, which killed some of her fellow prisoners. The second, and last time I saw her, the group had just crossed the border into Germany. I hope the girl managed to survive. We crossed the border and continued into Germany, using signposts to give us some idea of our whereabouts. We stopped at a barn just outside Stettin (Szczecin), but, once again sleep was impossible because the powers of the Royal Air Force decided to bomb the town that night. We watched the bombing through the slits in the barn walls and saw plenty of flames from the buildings. We also saw several planes crashing - some in flames. The next day when we resumed our march, we had to pass through the extensively damaged town and the people were most hostile towards us. We had to run to escape their boos and insults. We did try to tell them that they had done that to other countries including England but they refused to believe it. Now the boot was on the other foot it hurt too much for them to bear! Somewhere in this area we were outside a rubber factory, when a black plane with a twin fuselage passed overhead. The guard told me it was Germany’s secret weapon. Suddenly, without checking our uniforms, the plane dived and dropped a bomb on the factory, making black smoke rise into the sky. We just bolted down the road out of it as danger was too close for comfort. The plane was only an American Black Widow plane. When the guard realised the truth he broke into some highly unrepeatable German swearing. We then made for the coast. After several nights on the road our next stop was at the naval port of Swinemunde (Swinoujscie), outside of which was a monument with several sailors graves. We spent the night in the empty loft above the barracks and had a good night’s sleep with no interference from the boys with the bombs. It had been nearly a week since we were bombed and each night we had had a warm barn to sleep in. I hoped it would continue! We had been counted the next morning and were ready to leave, when a man came running up asking if anyone came from Chichester. I said I did, and he asked me if I knew Bill Phillips. The only Bill Phillips I knew, used to work with me in the sawmills at Charlton and had the nickname of India on account of his dark complexion, so I asked if he was called India. The chap said he was and told me that he had died that morning. Before he had time to give me any details we had to move off. After the war Bill’s sister told me my informant had been a POW from Hastings and he had told her that Bill had been shot dead but another source told her he had died of a heart attack. She received official notification of his death with no details but after the war she visited his grave in Berlin. We passed through the port, where I saw people, I think mostly POW’s like myself, and several German battleships and submarines tied up. They appeared undamaged so I wondered if the master race had run out of fuel. We crossed by the car ferry, which I think was still working, to the other side. After several days walking, we saw by the road signs that we were on the road to Rostock. Rumour had it, that when we arrived at this town we would be receiving a supply of Red Cross boxes, but the Jerry had other ideas, because we turned inland. We stopped at so many places that I have now forgotten their names. I did keep a diary of the march and of the places we stopped at, but I let someone borrow it and it was never returned. One night we stopped at an empty Slovak camp and found a door that was padlocked. Of course, with us around, it was not padlocked for long but it only contained football shirts and shorts. Rumour now had it that we were making for Lubeck and would be handed over to the Red Cross. The person who thought up these silly tales must have a good mind, because it certainly cheered us up - until the Jerries, once more, turned inland. Although we did stay at Lubeck prison, which was empty, for one night. We passed a column of Yankee prisoners who dragged their kit over the snow by prams and sledges, but the next day it had turned to slush as it was getting warmer. The signposts were now pointing to Schwerin but I have absolutely no idea if we reached there or not. We passed through several bombed towns. We were now on the road to Celle and going round in circles. Distance did not matter any more. We continued until we came to Hanover. We passed the place that had once been the estate of King George I. We stopped one night in a barn, outside of which there was a field of onions. The farmer told us to help ourselves, so we did, eating them raw. It had been so long since we had a hot meal that I could not remember the last one. Several towns had been bombed, leaving some of the streets nothing but rubble. Many a time we had to run through a hostile crowd. The road we were on must have been a route for prisoners because I saw lines and lines of dead Russians beside the road during the snowy weather. I was staggering well back from our column who were sitting resting when two uniformed Jerries passed me, but they did not speak to me; they were only interested in Russians. Those that were alive, they either shot or tossed over the bridge into the water below. Mostly it was a bullet that put them out of their misery. I ate some snow to keep my mouth moist and I was now paying for it with terrible stomach pains and chronic diarrhoea. I felt rotten and my feet were getting slower and slower. The Jerries were in the same boat as us - tired and hungry. We stopped in one village for three days and the Jerries obtained a hot meal for us in return for work. I chopped wood for fire lighting and for that received a good meal from a private German family. The next day someone else went to their work and meal. There were about 500 of us, when a small party of about two dozen Italian ex-POW’s joined us. We had five churns of watery soup, which just appeared from nowhere, but they reckoned they were not getting their fair share, so we had to give them a churn to themselves. Thank goodness they did not stay with us for long. I felt very sorry for one Italian; he had a bad bout of dysentery and was passing blood. He did what everybody else did and used his German paper money as toilet paper. I forget how many times I messed myself as my stomach became worse. We continued our journey until we came to Hamelin - made famous by Robert Browning’s poem The Pied Piper of Hamelin. We arrived here very late and were put up in a sugar beet factory. Some of us fell down into a tank, which was empty except for the unknown dregs of something. We lined up the next morning but were marched to the railway station to work. I do not know who bombed the site, but they made a good job of it; it was a complete mess. Trains and wagons were on their side on the main line. In the goods yard it was the same story with rails bent and sticking up in the air. Our job was to clear the luggage van of all it contained. I carried a heavy suitcase up the stairs to an undamaged part of the station, where I opened it. All it contained was women’s clothing. It had a holdall with talcum powder inside , so I emptied the powder out and kept the holdall. I carried a large wooden box up, which rattled just like bottles, so I prised the lid off, only to find horseshoes and nails. One of our lads was shot dead for looting by one of our guards but I never witnessed it. We left him there. While we were clearing the subway, which was completely blocked with concrete, rails, bricks and bodies, I saw an arm sticking out, so I pulled it, and found myself holding an arm. That was enough for me. I found a small hole to fill in, but I worked so slowly I never did finish it, as we left the station at five o’clock to return to our factory. That was the last we saw of Hamelin railway station as we never returned. It seemed funny but we had not seen a plane for days, except crashed ones, and there were plenty of them, mostly Flying Fortresses, with their tails stuck up in the air. Towards the end of our march, when it was hot and sunny, some Frenchmen joined us. They never had guards with them. One fat, old boy walked even slower than I did, so when we stopped at night, I made room for him beside me, otherwise he would have had to sleep on the dirt. They were with us a day or two, and never complained, as they were treated the same as us. We were still staying in barns, sometimes the guards slept below us. Unfortunately they tended to get watered during the night. Taking great exception to that they would fire a bullet upward towards the guilty party, luckily they shouted first so we all removed ourselves from the immediate vicinity. I have no idea who was in charge of our party, as I had not seen an officer for weeks. The guards never bothered to count us now, they were as done in as we were, but their numbers did not seem to be getting any less. We had just passed through a village, and were having an enjoyable rest on a bank and watching the skips crossing on a conveyor belt high above the road from the mine (I presume) to the mill, when a girl came pedalling along on her bike shouting, “Der Americaner kommen im dorf”. We told her to p*** off, although some expressed the same sentiment in stronger language. This made the Jerries panic and we had to run the rest of the day. We made several stops and hindered our guards efforts, hoping that Uncle Sam would catch us up. The road we were on was halfway up a hill, so we had to go down into the valley for our nightly barn hotel. We were under orders from the guard to walk through the fields in threes but we had other ideas, being cantankerous and from force of habit, we spread out. As we found out later it was lucky for us that we did. Unknown to us we were being observed from a long way off by a group of Americans with powerful field glasses - and they thought we were German soldiers. If we had been in columns of threes they intended to machine-gun us. We had only been asleep in the barn for a little while, when the guards, who were sleeping in stalls at the side, began making a hell of a racket, but as they stopped after a time, we all went back to sleep without bothering to check what was happening. I was sleeping on the barn floor. I thought it must be daylight when the barn door opened a little, and a female voice spoke to us in broken English, “Your guards have gone and left you, but I am the mayor of the village and we will look after you till the Yanks come. We will feed you later with breakfast but please, don’t go outside for there are several storm troopers still left in the village. We expect the tanks at noon”. I have never forgotten those words for it meant we were nearly free men after all these years. The female was part of a group from the village and was speaking on behalf of the mayor who was true to his word and sent breakfast up. After that we had nothing to do except wait for our saviours to arrive. That was the hardest thing to do. When we had started out from Thorn, four months ago, we were hopeful that we would be rescued soon. I had no idea that I would have to walk what I should think was about a thousand miles, sleep in snow-covered fields, or when the Russians were near, walk all night. On the whole, we were treated fairly well - the guards were feeling the strain as well by the end but there was a definite lack of food. I had not washed for weeks or shaved for three months. When I did finally take off my socks I am certain they stood up on their own. When we started out there were 500 of us, but I know several men escaped, and as far as I thought, incorrectly as I discovered years after the war ended, at the time no one died except the chap who was shot at the railway station, but all that was behind us now. All we had to do was wait for the Americans.
Hi Jacky Thank you for posting this part of the story. Your father was a very strong and brave man. I would like to read all 64 pages. Has it ever been published anywhere? Regards Barbara
Hi Barbara My father must have been dyslexic. (Apparently its hereditary and my daughter is.) I took his 64 pages and questioned him over several periods of hours. I was trying to get info about his escapes out of him when my Mum asked if anyone wanted a cup of tea. He replied the Gestapo did not offer cups of tea to their victims. I backed down. I have never had it printed because I am living in hopes that I will find out the name of the village where he was liberated. Once the Americans were in charge of the area he went to 'the pub' had a beer and walked out without paying. I am supposed to pay for the beer - if I can identify the place. A collaborator in the camp, who, according to the MOD does not exist but to other POWs was a ***** and should have been hanged is also a stumbling block. I am trying to get his file, and other collaborators files released and have written to David Cameron, but he has just passed the letter to the MOD. I tried to get an e-petition going but they rejected it. The book is 25 chapters long. Jacky
Jacky, I recently spent some time at the National Archives researching on behalf of Barbara any files I could find about the Long March from Stalag XXA. Barbara's uncle, L/Cpl Antony Coulthard, tragically died on that march on 24 March 45 at Kaltenhof. We are hoping to meet at Kaltenhof in May to find his grave. There is a great deal of material about the Long March in the NA files, it is just knowing where to look. Barbara and I made a breakthrough when I read file WO 309/58; it contains many statements from those on the march and specifically about the conviction of the German Officer in charge of the column for war crimes. Your father probably knew all of the men in the file. I was looking specifically for details of Barbara's uncle, Antony Coulthard, and was not concentrating on when the column was met by American forces. I am pretty sure that information will be there in one of the statements. Files that may be of use to you are: WO 311 117 Ill treatment of POWs from XXA to Magdeburg 143 Killing and ill treatment of POWS on march from XXA Thorn 1113 Ill treatment of POWs on March from XXA to Stendal 1115 Ill treatment of POWs on March from XXA to to Watsum Jan-Apr 45 1120 Ill treatment of POWs on March from XXA to Schwerin 1121 Ill treatment of POWs on March from XXA to Hagenow 1139 Il treatment of POWs from XXA to Barnsdorf 1146 Ill treatment of POWs in XXA and stealing of Red Cross parcels WO 309 58 Killing and Ill treatment of POWs on March from Thorn to Hannover 648 Ill treatment of POWs on March from Thorn to Hannover 1560 " " " " FO 916 2574 Ill treatment of POWs various It took me all of one day to read about half of the above, but by doing that, you may find details of when/where the column was released by the Americans. I think it was about 12 April. One of the things that became obvious when reading the files was that there was more than one column from XXA; in fact there were many. It started off as one big column but sub-divided as people began to straggle. Barbara and I were lucky in that I found in File WO 309/58 details of the group Antony was in. Much of the material I read clearly described other columns. You can pre-order six files if you book on line and they will be waiting when you arrive. On arrival, you can immediately order another three so you will have nine files available for reading. Parking there is free and excellent. Just one more thought about Kaltenhof. Antony's column were paraded in front of their barn on the morning of 24 March and continued the march, so it is very unlikely that this is the village where your father was released. Hope that is of use, Steve
Hi About ten years ago, when I first wrote to the MOD concerning him, POW files were not readily available but they told me he had been released at Blatz. When in Germany I dragged two kids and a husband to the remote village and as soon as I saw it I knew it was the wrong place. My maiden name (and my father's was HOTSTON but they managed to give me the details of another POW - it speaks volumes about their ability doesn't it!!!! In the end I was allowed to see his POW file. It was arranged that I had to go to a job centre twenty miles away and be locked in a room with another person so I requested it be a female and I was not allowed to write on the documents. (Obvious) I was told it was 50 pages long (my heart jumped to 7th heaven) so took two pads of file paper, pencils, a sharpener and a massive German dictionary. When I got there the woman was livid with me. Apparently she had more important things to do than cater to a person with too much time on their hands. She had photocopies all the pages. I ignored the insults, grabbed the pages, yelled thanks and fled. His POW file was empty but his six weeks of hospitalisation was included. I sat in a cafe trying to decipher atrocious writing. That was when I phoned my Dad about his frostbite. I did query where the missing pages were but got nowhere. I tried to get him compensation for being deaf (he was a gunner) and I enquired if moving dead bodies from a camp was classified as being in a concentration camp. The MOD hate paying up for their mistakes, cock-ups and plain stupidity. Jacky
Hello Jacky I to would like to read your dads story also. You sent me the commandants report way back in 2002. I see your still at it. Good Regards Bill
Jacky, I have been reading every paper I copied from the Nation Archives. I have attached a page from a Sgt Moore's affidavit in which he mentions that the day before the March concluded was 13 April 45 so the march obviously concluded on 14 April. It also mentions the German village of Stocken. This may have been where your father met the Americans. I can't find it on a map but will google it to find it. Hope this helps Steve
Hi Jacky, I have found Stocken on a website which has a map from Google Earth. Stocken (spelt with a double dot above the o) is a northern suberb of Hannover, just south of the A2/E30 autobahn which runs east west above Hannover. Try this link: Stocken Map | Germany Google Satellite Maps If it doesn't work, just google "map of Stocken" and that link will be one of the first listed. Probably Stocken was a village on it's own in 1945. Hope that is of help Steve
Hi Barbara I have read all of the reports. There are several things that register with what my father wrote. Ummendorf seemed the best bet until the American regiment was named. According to my father they were freed by an American coloured tank regiment. I sent for the regimental diary (and had to pay £35 custom duty) and it listed where the tanks went but admitted that they were a law unto themselves. I traced the son of their white officer and he gave me the address of a tank driver, who lived in Springfield (my children were very impressed). He had not heard of anyone who could remember releasing POWs. I will try and find the regimental diary and put the last bit on this site. Does anyone know if Ummendorf is in a valley? Jacky
Hi Barbara I have read all of the reports. There are several things that register with what my father wrote. Ummendorf seemed the best bet until the American regiment was named. According to my father they were freed by an American coloured tank regiment. I sent for the regimental diary (and had to pay £35 custom duty) and it listed where the tanks went but admitted that they were a law unto themselves. I traced the son of their white officer and he gave me the address of a tank driver, who lived in Springfield (my children were very impressed). He had not heard of anyone who could remember releasing POWs. I will try and find the regimental diary and put the last bit on this site. Does anyone know if Ummendorf is in a valley? Jacky Hi Jacky Reading about the events in Germany at the close of the war create a picture of chaos as troops, civilians and POWs criss cross paths. So it's no suprise to read about the tanks being "a law unto themselves"! I'll look forward to your updates. It must have been a great comfort to your Dad that you cared so much about his ordeal. Regards Barbara
Hi Steve You sent me an email and I thought I had replied but as I have not heard from you I must have done something wrong. (It comes in handy having an IT mad son.) Please can I accept your offer. Jacky
Hi For any person interested I have found the Journal of the 761st Tank Battalion and have scanned ( to be honest my son did) in their report for April. The beginning covers the end of March and the end of April covers the beginning of May. I have numbered them for my own convenience - 17 pages. Jacky http://www.un-map.com/Pictures.rar
