Camp Wainwright

My Introduction to a World Behind Barbed Wire


I cannot now remember the date that I was posted to the Wainwright POW camp in Northern Alberta other than it was in the depth of winter. And I am not certain to this day that it was because they actually needed me, or because they did not know what else to do with a surplus 25-year-old artillery lieutenant recently returned from overseas who was declining to take his discharge but still had to earn his keep.
On arrival at the railroad station, I was met by a private of the Veterans’ Guard Of Canada driving an open jeep and my trunk was slung in the back. As we entered the precincts of the camp in brilliant winter sunshine, I saw for the first time the great prisoner-of-war stockade consisting of two high fences about twelve feet apart. The massive posts and criss-crossed barbed wire enclosed several acres, with neat rows of barracks of the style that was standard for the Canadian Army, an equivalency for the POWs as prescribed by the Geneva Convention. At intervals along the fence were the formidable guard towers, large structures with several flights of wooden stairs to reach the top-most glassed-in deck from which the armed guards kept watch. It was a chilling sight.
We passed a hockey rink set up outside the barbed wire stockade. A vigorous game was in progress. I commented to my driver, “Oh! I see you play hockey here.”
“Yes sir!” he responded cheerily, “Today the guards are playing the POWs”
I was too shocked to make any reply. Evidently fraternization with the enemy was alive and well in Wainwright Prisoner-of-War Camp 135.
After getting installed in my room in the Officers’ Quarters, I went to the H.Q. building and reported to Major Shanks, the commandant of Veterans’ Guard of Canada No. 27 Company. While eyeing me up and down, he noted the empty holster on my belt and asked me where my revolver was. I said that after returning from overseas I saw no further need for lugging the heavy thing around and turned it in to the quartermaster in Calgary. He said, “Well, you will need one here. Go to the Q.M. Stores and draw one!” He indicated a building in the distance on a slight rise.
On the road to the building, I saw three figures approaching, marching briskly. As they passed me, they saluted me smartly. I was stunned to realize they were German officers, and we were outside the stockade! I had automatically returned their salute, and then remembered the order of the vengeful General Eisenhower overseas that we were not to return the salutes of German prisoners. I had felt uncomfortable and embarrassed by this ban on what had always been considered an honourable military courtesy, even for a defeated enemy.
When I entered the building, I found the usual quartermaster stores with shelves loaded with clothing, boots, equipment, tools, and weapons, all behind a long counter. At first there appeared to be no-one there, but suddenly a man at a desk behind the counter leaped to his feet and saluted me. I could hardly believe my eyes. He was dressed impeccably in the uniform of a German captain. Something was terribly wrong here. Mindful of what I had come for, I stammered, “There must be some mistake.” and turned to leave.
Before I could reach the door, he called out in excellent English “You must be Lieutenant Hamson. I had a phone call from the Orderly Room about you. You have come for this.” He then reached under the counter and placed a regulation Smith and Wesson .38 caliber revolver on the counter. From a drawer he withdrew a box of cartridges, opened it to ensure that it was full and correct, and pushed the two items toward me. Then, as I stood there speechless, he pushed a book toward me. “Please sign here.”
In a state of shock, I fumbled as I stowed the revolver in my holster, put the cartridges in my belt pouch, and walked unsteadily out the door. What kind of a place was this? Alice in Wonderland? A prisoner issuing me a GUN?
When I went into the Orderly Room, I was in for a further shock. The people working busily at filing cabinets, typewriters and the switchboard were German officers. A Veteran’s guard lounged in a corner, smoking a pipe and reading a newspaper. When I encountered the commandant later, I let him know of my total astonishment to find the place apparently being run by the prisoners. “Of course!” he said, “The ones you see outside the stockade have signed a parole and they love having something useful to do. They are very good at it too…Teutonic efficiency and all that sort of thing, you know. And that gives us more time to spend in the mess drinking beer!” He then glanced at his watch. “My goodness! Time for four o’clock tea! Come along!”

Lieutenant L.L. Hamson
Recollections of a Guard Officer at POW Camp 135 by Leo Hamson

 

Great story - Would astound most!

 

Served as part of an Infantry Brigade exercise at Camp Wainwright in 1979. A vast training area and home to Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry. A hard, but enjoyable time.

 

Great Story.

Does anyone know how the camp got its name?

I doubt a Canadian POW camp was named for Jonathan Wainwright, but you never know.

 

Excerpt #2

A Prisoner’s Paradise?

The next morning was my first day on the job, and I was told to check all the sentries at the gates and in the guard towers. The towers were quite a climb. I was astounded to see scores of POWs streaming out the open gate of the POW compound carrying skis over their shoulders. NOW what was going on? The tower guard on duty was observing this calmly without a word. I scrambled down from the tower and hurried to the gate and the small building beside it through which the ski-laden POWs were trooping. I saw that each one was signing a form as he passed through. I picked one up and read it. It was printed in both English and German. I wish now that I had kept one.
To the best of my recollection it said something to the effect… “I declare on my honour as a German Officer that I will not attempt to escape while outside the POW compound on this parole, that I will stay within the prescribed area, that I will not approach any civilians, that I will not go near the railroad tracks, and that I will return and report in to the gate not later than 4.00 o’clock. I acknowledge that any violation of this parole may result not only in the prescribed punishment for me but cancellation of this privilege for all German officers in this camp indefinitely.”
Thereafter I became accustomed to watching them with my binoculars from the towers as they enjoyed themselves on the gentle slopes with skis supplied by, I believe, the Y.M.C.A., Red Cross, and other charitable organizations. Was this a prison camp or a resort? I often observed them stopping to look at their watches, wondering if they had time for one more slide down the slope before time was up. We had warned them that the gate would be closed at the appointed time, and anyone locked out would be declared an escapee in very serious trouble and in danger of being shot. The siren would then sound to alert the whole camp and army base. For those not involved in skiing, there were escorted exercise walks in large groups outside the wire.
Not once was this parole ever violated deliberately. In the curious irony governing prisoner-of-war camps and the Geneva Convention, the parole ended as soon as they were back inside the stockade. Then they were legally and honourably entitled to use all their wits, guile, and resources to attempt escape, and in every way give their captors as much trouble as possible. Some considered it their duty, as they were still soldiers at war with their enemies. They could be shot while fleeing, but not after they had surrendered. Thirty days solitary confinement was the usual punishment for escape attempts.
These were the rules of the game for both sides in World War II for signatories to the Geneva Convention. Compliance was monitored by a neutral “Protecting Power”, usually Switzerland, and reports were made to the respective governments of the belligerents. Generally, the rules were adhered to with correctness by both sides, but there were a number of tragic and brutal lapses involving mass murder of helpless Allied prisoners, including Canadians in Normandy, by the Nazi S.S. and the Gestapo.
As is usual with crimes of the winning side, much less is known of the hundreds of thousands of German prisoners left to perish in an open field surrounded by barbed wire without shelter, food, or water after the final German surrender on May 8,1945. It is alleged that this apparent war crime was carried out on the orders of the Allied Commander-in-Chief, American General Dwight D.Eisenhower.

 

Great Story.

Does anyone know how the camp got its name?

I doubt a Canadian POW camp was named for Jonathan Wainwright, but you never know.

It's located near the town of Wainright, Alberta which was named for General William Wainwright, the second vice-president of Grand Trunk Pacific Railway. The town began as a divisional point on the railway in 1905 with the military camp starting much later in 1940.

 

If you read all the excerpts from Hamson, it describes a situation which is so much different than that of Allied POW's held in Europe. The recent thread on British POW's covers the arrogance, defiance and non-stop escape activity in the German camps. The prisoners in Alberta, by comparison, are far more manageable.
Certainly, being in North America gave little hope to the German prisoners that they could effect a successful escape and return home. Combined with that, the "parole" system used at Wainwright may have been a very enlightened means of maintaining a placid and content POW population. Hard to be planning escapes and sabotage while you're out skiing. When I first read it I was put off by what seemed like a country club atmosphere but compared to the constant battle between Allied prisoners and German guards, there just might be some very wise psychology behind the Wainwright policies. Would a harsh regime have created more danger to all involved and required more manpower to maintain?
Then again, it may simply reflect cultural and philosophical differences.

 

Although there is a lot of difference, he states on the website account that the war had ended several months before he arrived so the two situations are not truly comparable.

The prisoners had every reason to keep a clean sheet and even those with an unpleasant past would have been hoping to merge into the background. They had nothing to gain by misbehaving and everything to lose.

 

Although there is a lot of difference, he states on the website account that the war had ended several months before he arrived so the two situations are not truly comparable.

The prisoners had every reason to keep a clean sheet and even those with an unpleasant past would have been hoping to merge into the background. They had nothing to gain by misbehaving and everything to lose.

Agreed Rich but the parole practice or variations thereof had been in place since 1943. The camps were graded and those ardent Nazis which could be identified were placed in more conventionally run camps. In northern Ontario, on a voluntary basis, POW's actually lived and worked outside of camps under the control of companies who used the labour for harvesting wood.

 

An interesting site which details the resting places of 187 German POW's in Canada.
Representing 39 WW1 and 148 WW2 dead, they were moved from 36 different locations in 1970 and placed together in Woodland Cemetery in Kitchener, Ontario.

German War Graves

 

There are several clips on the topic of PoW camps in Canada in the CBC Digital Archives that may be of interest. I'll link directly to one of former German PoWs returning to visit Camp Wainright.

Return to Camp Wainwright - CBC Digital Archives

Regards ...

 

I have been to that cemetary, an interesting spot

 

How apt that Kitchener was chosen, previously named Berlin.

New Berlin before that. Even today, 25% of the Kitchener area population is of German extraction.

 

Virtually everyone who I have spoken to from that time has described a vivid recollection of the German prisoners work garb with the bright red circle. This is the first image I've been able to locate.