I managed to make my way out of my seat and up through the open side window. My copilot was bleeding profusely from a laceration on his face and could see only dimly, so I helped him out of the plane and led him about 30 yards away. A kind old man with a Red Cross armband met us outside the back door. Surprisingly, he told me in English that this was Denmark, which was occupied by the Germans, and he could not help me because of reprisals. So I asked him if I could wash the blood from my copilot's face, and he reluctantly led us into his kitchen where his wife had a pan of water ready. I was caring for my copilot's laceration when the family started a verbal commotion. I glanced out a window and spotted a well-fed German soldier, tommy-gun ready, sneaking up on the house. He kicked open the door and yelled at me loudly in German while swinging the gun menacingly. The old man told me to drop my pistol to the floor, which (after realizing it was under my belt) I did, quickly. C'est la guerre (such is war), we were now POWs. Everyone in my crew had survived our final mission with only scratches and bruises, with the exception of my copilot who had sustained a long laceration across his forehead. We were driven to a German naval base on the east coast of Denmark, where the next day our crew was put on a train with four or five guards armed with fixed bayonets. We were transferred to Dulag Luft at Frankfurt on the Rhine for solitary confinement and interrogation. My new quarters for the next two weeks were an eight-foot-square underground dungeon, surrounded by concrete and steel bars with a small frosted window about 10 feet above my bed of wooden slats. The only lights were in the hallway. If I needed a rest room, a guard would unlock my cell and escort me to the John. Three times a day a bowl of soup and a cup of water were pushed through the bars. After a few weeks, we were herded on board a '40 and 8s' box car (40 men or 8 mules) and began our journey from Frankfurt to Sagan, Germany (Stalag Luft III) located on the Polish border about 100 miles southeast of Berlin. The enlisted men were taken to Stalag Luft IV in Poland. Much has been written about the conditions in the '40 & 8s.' With 60 men crowded into one box car for long periods, conditions were extremely miserable. There was no hole to see out or urinate through. No room to lie down. If half the POWs were sitting, the other half had to stand up; and if someone had the 'GIs,' we all suffered the consequences. The train would stop for about 10 minutes, every six or eight hours, and sometimes we would get a drink of water. Once the train stopped unexpectedly because of an air raid and the engineer released all his steam (so it wouldn't blow up in case we were strafed). In my mind, I can still see hundreds of Kriegies (short for Kriegsgefangener or war prisoners) squatting along side the railroad tracks reliving themselves then enjoying the 30-minute delay to build steam pressure back up, in the meantime stretching our legs and basking in the sunshine. When we arrived at Stalag Luft III, we were issued a Gl helmet liner, two Gl blankets, an Eisenhower jacket (a waist length, lightweight jacket), a pair of cheap shoes, a large bowl, and eating utensils (a large aluminum spoon and fork, and a regular case knife). Soon after I arrived in Stalag Luft III, arriving POWs told us there would be no more attempts to escape or evade because we had successfully invaded France and were winning the war, so it was safer to stay together. Another reason was because, just before I was shot down, the English compound at Stalag Luft III had made a mass escape of about 70 English POWs, and all but three were rounded up and massacred. This tragedy is accurately portrayed in the popular movie entitled The Great Escape. The Germans gave us daily, a large serving of soupy stew consisting of a little meat and mostly vegetables (brussels sprouts, cabbage, carrots, potatoes, etc.) plus a fifth of a one-kilo loaf of black bread, which was said to contain some sawdust. Some pre-med flying officers in camp calculated that the diet furnished by the Germans was about 1,200 calories per day, which I can verify is a starvation diet. The thing that made life livable and hopeful was the food in the Red Cross parcels, which the Germans gave out sparingly and irregularly according to their fancy. (A Red Cross parcel weighed about 10 pounds, contained concentrated food which added up to about 30,000 calories, plus six or eight packs of cigarettes). It was a good week when each of us received a half parcel, and a bad week when we received none. When lights were turned off at 9 at night, a favorite pastime was lying in our bunks taking turns telling what we were going to do when we returned home. Nine times out of ten it was about food. I don't remember once hearing about drinking at a bar or cavorting with the girls. I had developed double vision along a line parallel to my two eyes. My double vision problem did not clear up until I had been back in the U.S. for three or four months. So, I finally figured out it was mainly caused by a dietary deficiency of some kind. The 28th of April 1945 dawned clear and warm. About mid-morning, we could see several tanks coming toward us from the rolling hills to the northwest. In a few minutes, we could make out five Sherman tanks bearing 16 down on us. When at about 200 yards, some of the guards opened fire with their rifles. The tanks stopped and answered back with 50 caliber machine guns as all the POWs hit the ground. The skirmish was over in 30 seconds, when the guards threw down their rifles. The two lead tanks drove through the prison gate and were immediately surrounded by thousands of celebrating Kriegies shouting, jumping up and down with arms flying. The GIs in the tanks started throwing out K rations and cigarettes. The tumult started to die down when someone pointed toward the small town of Moosburg about 1/3 mile to the south. From a flagpole, on the highest building, flew a large stars and stripes flag. That was a moment to remember. We were all swept up in a simultaneous emotional climax. The tanks could not move because of the surrounding crush of the wildex-POWs. When the tank column left, we were granted permission to stand guard over our new German prisoners. An hour after the spearhead tank column moved off to the east, we told these guards to "get lost." They had been treating us humanely and now we had the chance to return the favor. This was no occasion for reprisals. So now we were free, but instructed to stay put until after the war was over, in order to have an orderly evacuation. My crew waited another couple of weeks before we boarded trucks and headed for an airfield, where we boarded troop transport planes, and where we were, after seemingly endless delays, eventually repatriated. People ask, 'How was it in a POW camp?' One answer is that one year then seemed like five years now, mainly because of the uncertainty of the future and the hope of earlier liberation. Another is that even if we were not tortured, we were treated much worse than the Allies treated the German POWs. I decided to forget the entire five years of my life from 1941 through 1945 and never think of it again. After the war, I had put GI clothing, papers, letters, pictures, etc., into two footlockers and never opened them. That was more than 50 years ago, and it took about 40 years to overcome my phobia. Leslie A. Cole On 16 October 1945, Headquarters and Headquarters Squadron, 14th Air Force was the guest of the Generalissimo and Madam Chiang Kai Chek. The occasion was a farewell (party) garden tea at the summer home of the Generalissimo and the Madam Chiang Kai Chek. Each and every enlisted man and officer introduced themselves and shook hands with both the honored hosts. If this event was reported in the U.S. news, I have been unable to find anything about it. The Headquarters and Headquarters Squadron was inactivated a short time after this event and the men returned to the U.S. I received these service ribbons: American Theater of Operations, American Defense, Asiatic Pacific Theater of Operations, World War II Victory Medal, and Good Conduct Medal. I served stateside at Keesler Field, Mississippi, Gulfport Field, Mississippi, and Chanute Field, Illinois. Overseas, I served at the Third Air Depot in Agra, India, the 40th Photo Reconnaissance Squadron in Akyab, Burma, the 22nd Statistical Control Unit and the Headquarters and Headquarters Squadron, 14th Air Force in Peishiye, China. This poem seems to sum up my impressions of the year I spent in the Orient while serving my country. THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME By Leslie A. Cole I have crossed this earth's great oceans And have flown its endless skies. I have seen the tombs and temples Of the famous, rich, and wise. I have walked among the people Observing customs in each land. I have even met their leader And shook his outstretched hand. I have delved into their history Many centuries back in time. Then I walked among the ruins With a thousand steps to climb. I have looked upon these treasures With astonishment and wonder. In these far way exotic lands Where monsoons unleash their thunder. I have crossed the highest mountains As around the world I roam And I have reached the grand conclusion 'THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME'. 17