I am Australian. Of Polish Descent.

Part III: The COMMOS STRIKE

(Continued, Part II)

As I contemplated that the war had ended for us, I wondered what I was going to do next. I went to some of the neighbouring farms and spoke to other forced labourers. We had been warned by the American soldiers to take care because it would take one or two weeks for the occupational forces to arrive. Until a Provost Marshal was appointed, there would be no law and order so I decided to stay put for the time being and carry on as usual.

At this stage, I was invited to sit with the German farmer and his family at their dining table to share meals with them. He made it clear to me that the segregation that had been imposed by the Nazis, no longer existed. The following days on the farm were peaceful, although I heard that in Munster there were hordes of drunken prisoners-of-war and displaced people from many different countries roaming the streets and creating a lot of disturbance. Some of them had acquired vehicles and guns - they were shooting in the air, singing, swearing and generally creating a scene.

A fortnight passed and we were informed that the occupational forces had arrived and it turned out to be Polish paratroopers. On a billboard outside a small chapel there was a poster advising that U.N.R.A. (United Nations Refugee Agency) had been established in the area. It advised that if anyone wished to leave their workplace they needed to travel to Dortmund to register at the refugee camp there.

I told the farmer about this poster and advised him that I was going to the refugee camp with the intention of returning to Poland. He expressed disappointment and asked me why I couldn’t stay on his farm. The farmer’s only son had been killed during the war and he had a wife and three young daughters living at home. He suggested that I could possibly marry one of his daughters at some point in the future and become a part-owner of his property. Although I appreciated this gesture, I was keen to leave and return to my homeland.

But it didn’t happen that way……..  When I arrived in Dortmund I registered and was given accommodation. Local German civilians had been resettled from a section in Dortmund in order to make room for a displaced persons’ camp. As we registered, we were asked a number of questions including whether we were ex-servicemen. If you were an ex-serviceman, you were asked if you would like to volunteer to join the camp police.

A couple of days after registering, the Duty Sergeant visited the houses within the camp and asked if anyone was interested in furthering their education. He gave details about the office handling candidates wanting to be in the education program. They established a panel of three teachers who conducted examinations to assess the level of education of each individual. So I signed up because I was very keen to continue my education.

I studied for about eight months until the Polish Communist Government stopped my education. U.N.R.A. had asked member countries to contribute toward the educational costs of displaced people in the camps. The response from the Polish Communist Government was that it would not contribute, and if displaced people of Polish nationality wanted to continue their education they had to return to Poland. This was my first major disappointment.

After that, we were issued with documents which we signed stating that we refused to return to Poland as a protest against the Communist regime in our homeland.

AS FAR AS WE WERE CONCERNED IT WAS NOT A FREE POLAND.  I FELT THAT I HAD LOST BOTH MY FAMILY AND MY HOMELAND, COURTESY OF THE YALTA AND POTTSDAM TREATIES.

Feeling very disappointed, we were all just sitting around doing nothing, playing cards to kill time, until a communicade came through asking whether anyone was interested in doing guard duties for the American Army. We would be issued a full uniform, dark blue in colour, and we would have to go to Mannheim for training. So I raised my hand and was accepted by the Army officials.

We were transported by buses to the railway station and travelled by train to Mannheim. The following day we arrived and were collected by buses from ex-German Army barracks at Kafertal Training Centre. We signed up for the Labour Supervision Company in the U.S Army. We were issued our uniforms and told that our pay would be one hundred German marks and five American dollars.

After three months of basic training, there was a passing-out parade of two hundred and sixty men, but I wasn’t one of them. My basic training had been fast-tracked. Six weeks into my training a Staff Sergeant directed me to see the Captain of the Company. The Captain told me that my progress was excellent, and therefore, he was sending me for training in rifle-shooting.

Tad in his U.S. Army uniform

The rifle-shooting lasted two days and I was then posted as a guard replacement at the 1301 Labour Supervision Camp in Mannheim. 

1301 Labour Supervision Camp in Mannheim

So my dreary guard duty work began. Two hours during the day and two hours during the night according to the roster. Walking aimlessly from one post to another, and back again. 

In the beginning of 1948, there was a call-up to army personnel asking for the names of those interested in doing truck driver training. So I thought driving trucks sounded a lot better than walking around aimlessly, so I stepped forward.

The driver training lasted for three months and the final examination was conducted on a hill along a very narrow, zig-zagging road leading up to Heidelberg Castle. I passed my examination with flying colours and felt great. At last, despite everything that had happened, I felt that finally I was getting somewhere in life!

When I returned to the barracks, I was informed by the Duty Officer that I had to pack my belongings because a contingency of trucks would arrive shortly and we would be driving those trucks to Kaiserslautern, about 260 kilometres from Mannheim. We were to be part of a newly-formed depot there and would be trucking goods from the railway station to the depot, about a ten kilometers round trip.

Preparing to go to new depot in Kaiserslautern

Accommodation was very basic at the new depot as we were living in army tents. But still it was a whole lot better than guard duty! In fact, anything was better than guard duty!

Arrival at the new depot

 

It didn’t take long for the U.S. Army construction companies to erect prefabricated barracks for us to live in. We were all glad to move into them as the European winter was upon us and there were heavy frosts and snow.

Alone (without family and a homeland) I didn’t know where my circumstances would lead me.

All of a sudden, a communicade arrived. It said that those who had served for a year or more would be discharged from the Army for a period of three months and transferred to a civilian camp. After three months we would be re-enlisted back to our regular duties. This was another setback for me. Apparently, the Polish Communist Government had applied pressure to the United Nations indicated that we “had it too good” in the U.S. Army and because of this, were unwilling to return to Poland.

So guess what? ……..I ended up in Stuttgart Refugee Camp. THE COMMOS HAS STRUCK AGAIN!

Tad in civilian clothes

The camp was situated in ex-German Army barracks. The barracks were three-storeys high with winding concrete stairs between each level. There were large rooms that accommodated about forty people in each. The food was atrocious. In the morning we were given a bowl of dark brown porridge made from oat husks. It looked like muck and tasted like muck!  We were also given a slice of black bread. In the afternoon they dished out more of the same! At this point, needless to say, I really starting missing Army food!

Subsequently, farmers from around Stuttgart began complaining to the Burgermeister (Town Mayor) that chickens, ducks, geese, rabbits, goats, etc: were constantly disappearing from farms located near the camp.

The farmers’ complaints reverberated back to the United Nations with a warning that if the situation wasn’t rectified, it would be dealt with under the Geneva Convention, on the basis that people held in the camp were malnourished and had resorted to stealing.

It reached a pinnacle when five official cars and the Provost Marshal’s jeep arrived at the camp gate. The camp police and groups of refugees assembled near the gate. The Provost Marshal brought witnesses with him - the Burgermeister of Stuttgart, officials from the United Nations (transferred from U.N.R.A. to I.R.A.) and local police officials. He said they wanted to know what happened to the cow that had been taken away at night from a nearby farm and been led to the outskirts of the camp. He then said, according to rumours, the cow had been slaughtered in the camp but there was no actual evidence, even with the use of sniffer dogs, that the cow had entered the camp.

The Provost Marshal gave a firm assurance that there wouldn’t be any repercussions and no-one would be prosecuted if they revealed what happened to the cow.

After a period of silence, someone piped up “Yes, we slaughtered the cow and we shared the meat around the camp”. The Provost Marshal asked him “But how did you manage to get the cow into the camp because we couldn’t find any evidence”.

The man replied ever so casually “Simple. We tied shoes to the cow‘s legs, walked it up three flights of stairs to the attic, and that’s where we slaughtered it“.

The Provost Marshal just stood there, stunned………

Food supplies in the camp improved dramatically after that!

Soon after the “cow in the shoes” incident, I was reunited with my Army unit in Kaiserslautern..


Part IV: WHAT??? …. AUSTRALIA??? THERE ARE HARDLY ANY PEOPLE THERE!!

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