airman.
Dawn was breaking before the train at last drew in, and then our ride only proved to be of about half an hour’s duration. To our considerable surprise, we travelled in a westerly direction, as was evidenced by the glow of the dawn behind us. There was hardly a window left in any of the compartments, and as it was a corridor train, the draught was terrible, to say nothing of the temperature, which must have been well below freezing level.
We reached the town of Unna, and although the permanent way had suffered a good bit of bomb damage, we were pleased to see that the
bahnhof
itself appeared to be intact. Moreover, the waiting room into which we were taken was actually warm, and there was room for us to sit down. Many of the passengers had obviously spent the night there, and although we did not know it then, it is likely that some of them were not evenpassengers. As we learnt later, in most towns a
bahnhof
that was not ‘kaput’ was just about the only place that anyone passing through could find to rest his bones during the hours of darkness.
We did not wait very long, but as soon as the sun had begun to show its first yellow streaks through the window (it would then be around 6.30 a.m.), we made our way out of the station and up into the centre of the town. We were at once struck by the bustle and activity at this time, which at home we would have described as ‘the middle of the night’. When we reached the market square, we found that a policeman with his baton was already quite busy. The crowds waiting for lifts on the street corners were considerable, and being augmented every minute by fresh arrivals.
We took good care not to stray from our guards, for quite a few ugly looks and muttered curses were flung our way. Whether it was because of this or that lifts to where we wanted to go were unobtainable, I do not know, but it was not long before our policeman guard told us that we were going back to the
bahnhof
again.
The crowd in the waiting room had cleared considerably. The bar was now open, although as was the case in Fredeberg, it did not have much in the way of refreshment to dispense. On a signal being given we commenced to make our first meal of bread, margarine and cheese, but we were unduly optimistic in thinking that there might be coffee to wash it down. In fact, we did not evenget a drink of water. Still, the food was good and wholesome, although very plain, and I suppose we all enjoyed it, our first repast on a self-supporting basis!
At around 9 a.m. came the inevitable shout, we presumed, ‘No more trains today’. This was the signal for the waiting room to empty immediately, and so in a few minutes we found ourselves once again in the market square. ‘Things will have to speed up a bit if we are to do it in two days,’ I remarked with a much greater hint at the truth than I realised.
About another hour passed before the efforts of the airman to secure a lift were successful. (We were to learn that it was always he who did the negotiating in any matter concerning our travel. We presumed that this was because he appeared to have done the journey before and therefore was acquainted with all the short cuts necessary to get to our particular destination.) By a miracle, we managed to get as far as the town of Iserlohn without any change of transport, although our route lay through the town of Menden, which added about 10 kilometres to the direct distance of 18 kilometres.
Iserlohn is about 20 miles south-east of Dortmund and was the largest in which we had been so far. There was a good deal of evidence of action by our aircraft, and when we left the wagon and walked through the main streets, we were once again the recipients of many sour glancesfrom the civilians. Our guards did their best to hurry us through the busy parts, but there seemed to be frequent halts to enquire the way. We all, especially Diffy, made sure that we did not wander far away from them.
It was during one of these
Dawn was breaking before the train at last drew in, and then our ride only proved to be of about half an hour’s duration. To our considerable surprise, we travelled in a westerly direction, as was evidenced by the glow of the dawn behind us. There was hardly a window left in any of the compartments, and as it was a corridor train, the draught was terrible, to say nothing of the temperature, which must have been well below freezing level.
We reached the town of Unna, and although the permanent way had suffered a good bit of bomb damage, we were pleased to see that the
bahnhof
itself appeared to be intact. Moreover, the waiting room into which we were taken was actually warm, and there was room for us to sit down. Many of the passengers had obviously spent the night there, and although we did not know it then, it is likely that some of them were not evenpassengers. As we learnt later, in most towns a
bahnhof
that was not ‘kaput’ was just about the only place that anyone passing through could find to rest his bones during the hours of darkness.
We did not wait very long, but as soon as the sun had begun to show its first yellow streaks through the window (it would then be around 6.30 a.m.), we made our way out of the station and up into the centre of the town. We were at once struck by the bustle and activity at this time, which at home we would have described as ‘the middle of the night’. When we reached the market square, we found that a policeman with his baton was already quite busy. The crowds waiting for lifts on the street corners were considerable, and being augmented every minute by fresh arrivals.
We took good care not to stray from our guards, for quite a few ugly looks and muttered curses were flung our way. Whether it was because of this or that lifts to where we wanted to go were unobtainable, I do not know, but it was not long before our policeman guard told us that we were going back to the
bahnhof
again.
The crowd in the waiting room had cleared considerably. The bar was now open, although as was the case in Fredeberg, it did not have much in the way of refreshment to dispense. On a signal being given we commenced to make our first meal of bread, margarine and cheese, but we were unduly optimistic in thinking that there might be coffee to wash it down. In fact, we did not evenget a drink of water. Still, the food was good and wholesome, although very plain, and I suppose we all enjoyed it, our first repast on a self-supporting basis!
At around 9 a.m. came the inevitable shout, we presumed, ‘No more trains today’. This was the signal for the waiting room to empty immediately, and so in a few minutes we found ourselves once again in the market square. ‘Things will have to speed up a bit if we are to do it in two days,’ I remarked with a much greater hint at the truth than I realised.
About another hour passed before the efforts of the airman to secure a lift were successful. (We were to learn that it was always he who did the negotiating in any matter concerning our travel. We presumed that this was because he appeared to have done the journey before and therefore was acquainted with all the short cuts necessary to get to our particular destination.) By a miracle, we managed to get as far as the town of Iserlohn without any change of transport, although our route lay through the town of Menden, which added about 10 kilometres to the direct distance of 18 kilometres.
Iserlohn is about 20 miles south-east of Dortmund and was the largest in which we had been so far. There was a good deal of evidence of action by our aircraft, and when we left the wagon and walked through the main streets, we were once again the recipients of many sour glancesfrom the civilians. Our guards did their best to hurry us through the busy parts, but there seemed to be frequent halts to enquire the way. We all, especially Diffy, made sure that we did not wander far away from them.
It was during one of these
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