After the surrender, Val and many of his comrades were taken prisoner and herded onto cattle trucks.
'Once the door was shut there wasn't much light inside, except for a small opening close to roof, crisscrossed with barbed wire. No toilet facilities, so the first thing we did was cut a hole in the floor big enough to be useful. We travelled through the day and the following night. We arrived at our destination at midday. The day was very sunny and hot. We were formed into a column by Hitler Youth and began our march toward the camp. The Hitler Youth kept running up and down the column looking for any watches and rings on our hands. As the midday sun burned down on us many were on their last legs. The young and strong were alright, but older men were completely worn out by the time we reached the camp. When we stopped everybody slumped down, grateful for a rest. Only now was the full horror of the march revealed - two men were dead from heart attacks and many others were at death's door.'
At the camp, the men slept on bedbug-infested straw in wooden barracks and fed on soup made from sugar beet. It gave them such terrible indigestion that it was virtually inedible. The Nazis began confiscating the men's property.
'I was near the end of my column and my brain was working overtime thinking how to save my two guineas, photographs and tobacco. I moved behind other men and scraped a hole in the ground with the heel of my shoe, just deep enough to bury my possessions tied up in a handkerchief. I noticed that other men were doing the same.'
This camp was Lamsdorf.
'The camp was sectioned into compounds and there were many of them. Our compound was not very big, only six huts in the middle of an oblong. To the north was barbed wire which surrounded the camp, to the west was a Serbs compound, and to the southeast was a Russian compound. The Russians looked terrible, skin and bone, walking corpses.'
After a time, Val was moved again. The men were given 200g of bread and a small tin of meat, and then loaded into cattle trains, forty to a wagon. During the third night of the journey a gale started up.
'All of a sudden there was a crunching noise, and our roof was off. Rain lashed at us, soaking everybody to the skin. Thank God the train stopped soon after, the doors were opened, and we were transferred to the other three wagons. It became even more overcrowded. One could hardly sit down let alone lie down. Everybody spent a very uncomfortable night; sleep was out of the question. The train was on the move all through the night and late into the day. Through the rattling of train wheels we could hear the rumble of bombs exploding in the distance.'
On arrival at the next camp, the men had their heads shaved. A group of French prisoners used some of the contents of their Red Cross parcels to throw a welcoming party for the new arrivals. The guards organised competitions in running, jumping, wrestling, and more. The prize for the winner was a loaf of bread. Val was in a good position to win - he was a fast runner and could do twenty-six pull-ups. Within two weeks, Val was moved again, to Neusornewitz. He was chosen by one of the guards to act as a translator.
'Once he offered me an apple but in return, he suggested, I would tell him what the boys were talking about. I stood there, not saying a word. After that incident, he approached me a few times asking if I had anything for him and again I remained silent. This cat and mouse lasted about two weeks. Then I was transferred to loading the firing chimneys. This was very hard work. After the first day loading the chimneys, my hands were bleeding.'
Val's sketch of Neusornewitz
Two of Val's fellow prisoners were only children, eleven-year-old boys. One of the boys said that his father had been a German diplomat and that his mother was in Berlin. He continually wrote letters to the German authorities asking to be allowed to see his mother. Val and the others suspected that the letters never made it outside the camp. Just after Christmas, the boy managed to escape and remained away for three days.
'When the Germans brought him back, he was swearing like a trooper - thank God the Germans did not understand him. Later, he related what had happened to him. He went through the back of the factory and walked through fields going north (we all wondered how he knew it was north, but we later found he had gone in the right direction). He slept in barns and hay- stacks. If it wasn't for the Hitler Youth, he would have made it, but they were everywhere, running around with dogs. They found him in a hay- stack. He kept on writing letters till the end.'
One day, Val was working on the drains when the director of the factory arrived. Val spilled some oil.
'The director shouted, "nicht zu fil oil!" and he hit me across the face. My reaction was instant - I lifted the iron rod with the clay as to hit him with it. I stopped in mid-air and then continued with my work. When the work was finished two German soldiers marched me outside the factory to the local guard house. I was put in a very small room, not big enough to lie down. I did not have my soup that evening, or anything to eat the next day or night. There was no window - the only light came through the cracks in the door. I was let out after two nights and marched straight back to work without any food. That evening, to my surprise, the boys presented me with my rations. While I was away, they collected my bread and soup. They shared the soup between themselves but kept the bread for me.'
Val's prison camp identity card
Not long after, Val and the other men were marched out of the camp. They kept moving for two weeks. The diet consisted of potatoes which gave the men heartburn and again were basically inedible. One night, Val stole away to a nearby field where he stole some food. The next morning, a guard demanded to know who had taken it, insisting that nobody would receive their rations until the culprit owned up.
'I stepped forward. The guard told me to follow him. Sweat appeared on me from nowhere. Under the occupation many people were shot for digging seed potatoes out of the ground. As we walked, I started to calm down and even accepted that it was my time. I had no family, no wife or children, and the family I had did not exist for me anymore, not the way they let me starve on the streets of Warsaw. The more I thought, the more I calmed down and accepted the inevitable. We arrived in a building with a long corridor, with benches along one side. Obviously, this was the courthouse for the district. Many must have sat in my place. As I sat on those hard benches, I contemplated how those before me had felt and coped with their fears. I decided to stay calm and show no fear. It wasn't that I wasn't afraid of dying - I was. It was important to me to die well. Showing those Germans that courage existed even in people they thought were inferior. It is amazing when you accept the inevitable how calm and peaceful you become. I don't know how long I sat there; all my mind was concentrated on not showing fear. A door opened and my guard came out. He told me to follow him. We went outside the building, and I expected to be conducted to my place of execution. To my surprise, we started walking in the direction we had come from. He took me to a field, drew a circle, and told me to stay there until he told me to come out. He left me all through the half a day and night with no food. The next morning, he let me out.'
A few days later, everything changed.
'The guard assembled us in the morning and said, "you are free. You can go." He quickly disappeared and we stood there dumb for quite a while. Everyone was wondering what to do. I suggested we head for a nearby town.'
When they arrived at the town, none of the men knew what to do. Val saw some German soldiers sitting smoking on some steps.
'I went over to scavenge a few cigarettes. I did not smoke, but one could always sell cigarettes. I approached the steps and sat down and politely asked for a cigarette. "There you go, have the packet," replied one of the soldiers, "the war is over." For a minute I was taken aback and then I asked him when the war had ended. He told me it was ended with the west the day before, but it still continued against the Russians. I let the boys know that I was going towards the west right away, although it was late in the evening. We started close before midnight. Walking became difficult with the roads being completely blocked, so we had to walk by the side of the road.'
Val and five companions began their journey west, stealing and begging food which they ate without stopping. The roads were full of many other travellers, including freed prisoners of war and German soldiers. The group even saw a Ukranian in an SS uniform whose knee had been almost blown off. Despite his injuries, he was heading west. After four days on the road, Val and the other men with him were picked up by a group of American soldiers and taken to a German barracks. There, they were organised into columns along with a great many others of all different nationalities, and were told that they would soon be sent home by lorry.
'At first there a stunned silence and then a murmur of objection. The French column started to move towards the lorries a few yards away. As they were climbing into the lorries, I slipped in behind them. An American gripped me by the collar and said something to me in total gibberish, which I did not understand. I stood up to my full height (which is not much) and retorted, "je suis Francais!" He released his grip on my collar and I did not wait for him to question me again. Like lightning I boarded the lorry. As we moved off, the Frenchmen showed their generous spirit, with one of them changing my coat for his and the other swapping his cap.'
Soon the lorries stopped, and the men were herded out.
'Waiting to be allocated sleeping quarters, a very tall French army officer stepped in front and said in perfect Polish, "all Poles step forward". Oh well, it was worth a try! Altogether there were ten of us and I was the youngest of the group. We followed the officer to a large room with sleeping bunks in it and the officer announced that he would be back in an hour. Speculation went wild, but we all agreed that we had not come all that way and gone through all that hardship to go back under the Russian yoke. I personally thought, if I am forcibly to be deported to Poland, I will go to any lengths to resist. All those fears were completely unnecessary. The officer came back with good news - he brought papers for all of us to identify us as prisoners of war serving in the French Army.'
The small band of Poles were taken by plane to France and then each presented with a small bottle of wine, a fish sandwich, and some chocolate. They visited a cinema, a medical centre, and finally were given French ration books and travel permits.
'Once dressed and armed with these papers it suddenly dawned on me - what the hell was I going to do? I was in a foreign country and my French was extremely limited to "please," "thank you," "how much?" and "I am Polish". Surprise surprise, only a few yards down the corridor there was a desk with a Polish army recruitment man.'
Serving in the Polish army, Val was eventually moved from France and stationed in Italy. He found the monotony and endless marching quite boring and pointless. He did, however, train to be an under officer and engaged in boxing. In Italy, he became friends with the daughter of a local banker who took him to see Aida at La Scala.
'Up to that day I did not see any opera. The opera house itself appeared very small and the seats very close together, but the opera itself was magnificent. The costumes and the singing was something I had never come across. It dawned on me how little I knew.'
Serving in Italy
Following this, Val dedicated all his time to learning. He focussed particularly on English since he thought he would probably end up in England eventually. In 1946, he arrived at Charing Cross in an army lorry and was sent to Sudbury. He was still only nineteen years old. On a day trip to London, he purchased a copy of the Hackney Gazette.
'On the way back, I read the paper while the others looked at the map. I opened to the last page and what do I see but an advert for a fur machinist. I kept the paper and within a couple of weeks I went back to London. I studied the map of London so I could get to Whitechapel. Once in London I phoned the firm to ask whether they still wanted a machinist. They asked me to come over for an interview, I asked if now would be convenient, and they said yes. I arrived in Whitechapel within half an hour. They set me down to do some sewing. After about an hour I was informed that the job was mine if I wanted it. I was given a letter of employment so that I could be discharged from the army. Back at the camp, objections and obstacles were put in my path. The Polish army did not want to lose soldiers. The officers in my camp played delaying tactics, so I went over their heads and wrote a letter to the camp commander explaining my position. Within three days I was granted release whenever I was ready.'
It was not to be that simple, however.
'I travelled to London to inform the company that I would be ready to start work soon. Here I was told that I needed to seek permission from the labour exchange to work in England, but as I fought on the allied side it should not be a problem. When I went to the labour exchange, they informed me that there were vacancies in coal mining. "We want coal miners, not furriers". They would not grant me permission. I went back to the company, who told me to wait a week and try again. After a week, I went back to the labour exchange and was again refused permission. I was getting very frustrated. The third time I went I was a little rude. I said, "you will never make me work in mines. I am not a miner, I am a furrier." I was asked to wait a few minutes and then the man returned and gave me a piece of paper - permission to work as a fur worker. I was ready to leave the army. Life became a routine - work, company, and play. This ends the saga of my travelling alone.'
A few years later, Val met Lily White, a tailor's daughter from Clapton. Ever the gentleman, he walked her home from their first date and kissed her hand as he said goodbye. They married in 1953 and had two children, Paul and Suzanne. Val lived in Essex with his wife for the rest of his life, working for many years at his own shop, Lara Furs.
Val and Lily on their wedding day
I asked Val once how he wasn't too frightened to join the resistance. "I don't think I'd have been as brave," I confessed. He smiled a little as he answered. "Well, you see... without resistance there is no life. There is no life without resistance."
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