POW in Germany.

Hi all, got a little story for you, hopefuly you will find it amusing.

My uncle Albert used to race pigeons prior to the 2nd world war, indeed he supplied racing pigeons for the war effort.
Anyway, Albert was called up for army service at the beginning of the war and was part of the Yorkhire Infantry or something like.
1 year later Albert was taken prisoner somewhere in France and spent the remaider of the war in a German stalag in the middle of a forest. After been there a couple of days Albert noticed that each day a flock of pigeons would be excersing nearby, always reminding him of home.
According to Albert, things were not too bad in the pow camp, they had good food, tobbaco and occaisionaly other home comforts as provided by the Red Cross so life was not really as bad as it could have been in other camps.
Always thinking of escape, Albert studied the camp perimeter and barbed wire that was everywhere. There were guards with Alsation dogs and rifles always within sight, so any thoughts of escape were considered to be too risky and a bullet in the back....not very nice.
Albert, thought being captive was a real pain in the A--e and although he longed for home, the though of being shot soon put any ideas of escape out of his head and he settled down for the duration of the war.
He told me that his favourite time was evening when he would sit outside of the hut, watching the sunset, smoking a fag and thinking of home and how his pigeons were, in fact he told me that he was quite happy to sit out the war in these conditions which were better than fighting the enemy on the battlefield.
As time passed Albert accepted his internment and during this time learned all kinds of skills from other prisoners including tailoring and wood carving. Then one day there was news going round the camp that the Russians were not far away and they could free within days, the prisoners met this news with great pleasure and the guards knew that the war was over for them.
A couple of days later he was awakend by laughter and shouting as the prisoners taunted the guards now and had no fear of them anymore, indeed the guards kept out of the way as much as possible. Sometime later in the day a little Jack Russel type dog found its' way into the camp throught the main gate which was now always open awaiting the Russians and Americans who were only a few miles away. As the prisoners had only seen the guards Alsations up to now the little dog was greeted and patted and hugged and found it great fun to run from prisoner to prisoner eagerly accepting the bits of food it was being given by all.
It soon came to the attention of the sargeant guard that the commotion was being noted by the German officers who were now standing outside the office building. Guards were now running round trying to catch the little dog who must have been thinking that this was some kind of game, however the dog was rather quick and making a laughing stock of the guards which in turn had all the prisoners in fits of hysterics.
SHOOT THE DOG! called the sergeant guard, SHOOT THE DOG! and several guards removed rifles from their shoulders, FIRE he called ,which promted several of the guards to cock their rifles. SHOOT, SHOOT he screamed until three or four shots rang out, when I opened my eyes the little dog was still running around unharmed, FIRE, FIRE he screamed, by this time every prisoner was doubled up with laughter and the guards prepared to fire a second volly, bang, bang ,bang there were bullets flying all over the bloody place and the whole thing had turned into a circus! The little dog had avoided approx. 14 -15 bullets and deciding he had probably pushed his luck decided to leave the compound. The officers and the guards retreated to there respective stations and the camp settled down again to the normal routine.
Albert was talking some time later with some other prisoners who said that the little dog had really been lucky not to have been hit by a bullet. You could see Albert was studying something and seamed puzzled by it all. He then held up his hand and said," I,ve been in this bleeding place for nearly four years always afraid of being shot if I tried to eascape, little did I realise that those bloody Germans could'nt hit a barn door and I could have walked out of those 'Bleeding gates any time I liked !
Albert came home after the war and returned to pigeon flying again, however, he became a bit of a after dinner speaker and had many a free dinner on that story.
Chanco
This story was also published in the RP sometime in the 60's by Alberts son.

hi malcolm, found your story very interesting....enjoyed reading it. seems your uncle albert was a bit of a character who told a good tale, very much like you ..........

great story

Really enjoyed the story
Ken

Lucky little doggy, how heartless trying to kill a loving little creature.