|
By: Edgar A. Ferrier
3rd Ranger
Battalion Company B
Darby’s Rangers
I’m hoping this brief
report of experiences in my life will help anyone who reads this letter
to better understand the horrors past and present of being an American
ex-prisoner of war.
I served with the US
Army’s Darby’s Rangers. I was captured outside of
Rome
(Cisterna), in January 1944 and held as a prisoner for almost 16
months. When we were captured, most of my outfit was killed. Death was
everywhere. Those of us left were marched at gunpoint to an old factory
building that was bombed almost instantly by our own forces. We were
later taken to the streets of
Rome where they marched us for the citizens to throw hot
water on us. We thought they would tear us apart.
Eventually, we were
taken to box cars. We were crowded in so tight, there was standing room
only. There were no toilet facilities and the cars reeked. We would
have to take turns resting. The box cars were strafed by friendly
fire. We thought the box cars would be our graves. We arrived at
Stalag 7A. The living conditions were terrible….there was dysentery,
lice, very little food and very cold. Six men shared one loaf of black
bread. I began losing weight. I went from 160/165 down to about 105
pounds when we were liberated. My legs and feet were swollen to the
point I was afraid to take off my boots, fearing I could not get them
back on again. The weather was very cold and our hands and feet were
always so cold.
I was put on a work
farm in Poland
where they trained SS troops. I escaped from the farm for about two
weeks but was recaptured by a Polish guy whose gun was bigger than he
was. He turned me in. I was put in chains and taken to Stalag 2B and
put in solitary confinement for over a week. I was given black bread
and water. I had snuck a cigarette into the cell and the guard caught
me smoking. He took my only blanket and punched out the window, so I
would be even colder.
They took me out of
solitary and I rejoined the rest of the prisoners. We were all
suffering from hunger, the cold, dysentery and constantly being
threatened by the camp commander and some of the guards. The camp
commander would put a German Lugar to our heads, not to mention the
rifle butts to ours backs and everywhere else if we didn’t move fast
enough to suit them. These aches and pains in the back, arm, knees, are
constant reminders of the brutality of fellow human beings in prison
camp.
In January 1945 we left
2B on a forced march across Germany that lasted about 2 ˝ to 3 months.
There was very little food and no place to sleep except the cold
ground. We were always cold and wet, and so weak. Guys would be along
the roadside collapsed too weak to move. After we passed by they would
disappear. We never found out what happened to them. We only knew
that we couldn’t help or save them; we had to leave them behind to die
alone.
We finally came to a
Russian camp. We were told to march to a quarry. The guards were all
above us with ‘potato mashers’ (grenades). We thought this was it. The
guards suddenly disappeared and an American tank crashed through the
wire. We had survived the nightmare.
We learned to be
soldiers but there was no training on how to be a prisoner-of-war. We
learned on our own how to survive the beatings, the hunger, the guilt,
the brutality from our fell man. I survived but the memory is as if it
happened yesterday. I couldn’t save the others. You don’t forget these
things, ever. I am fortunate to have friends who were POWs. Only
‘They’ understand because they too live with the same memories. They
haven’t forgotten --- how could they?
Edgar A. Ferrier
posted
by Rit
Banulski (family friend) with permission from Ranger Ferrier
RitB@aol.com
|