The
March from Sagan
By
Andrew Turner
On
Saturday, January 28th, 1945, the prisoners of Stalag Luft III could
hear artillery rumbling in the distance. The Russian Army was advancing and was
reported to be about 22 miles away from their camp in Sagan, Germany.
It was surmised one of three things would happen. The
first was that the Russians would overtake the camp and the Goons (German
guards) would surrender or flee. If this happened, the Kriegies (a short form
of the German word for POW) expected their liberation would come without fear.
The second option may be an order from a fervent Nazi official for the
prisoners to be executed. If this was the case, the Goons were sure to have a
fight on their hands. The last option would be a mass march across Germany. To
this option, American Brigadier General Charles Vandermann said, “In that event
we will suffer many casualties and it will be a March of Death.” This last
option was soon to become a reality.
The men had been expecting something to happen for days,
but on the evening of the 28th the announcement came. Orders were
given to evacuate the camp post-haste, they would begin marching in one hour.
In his 1960 book Kriegie, Kenneth W. Simmons describes the time directly
after the order was given:
“The next forty minutes of accelerated activities surpassed all
records for assembling and preparing for a mass-moving project. Closets were
emptied, food divided, packs rolled, beds disassembled, kitchens stripped of
food and dishes, tools and weapons were uncovered. Most of us dressed with two
pairs of socks, two suits of underwear, two shirts, overcoat, hat and G.I.
gloves. By ten-thirty most of us were ready and waiting to move out.”
The
situation was even more grim for the Goons who would be guarding them than for
the Kriegies themselves; there were about 8 guards for every 100 prisoners. The
Goons were just as cold, just as hungry, and just as ready for the war to end
as the prisoners. By 11:30, the Kriegies were beginning their march from Sagan
towards Berlin. Simmons says:
“I had never expected to be marching from Sagan in the direction
of Berlin…the mark made on us at Sagan would never be erased, and I knew it. We
moved up the long hillside. The column slowed down as the climb grew steeper.
Somewhere near the top I turned around and saw Stalag Luft III in flames. The
fire covered several square miles, and the flames leaped high in the cold air.
This was the end of Stalag Luft III and the beginning of the March of Death in
Germany.”
In
The Longest Mission, a 1995 reunion publication by the Association of
Former Prisoners of Stalag Luft III, the fire blazing below and the tremendous
migration is given greater definition:
“Over
in the North Compound, Block 104 went up in flames, some small retribution for the
murder of 50 Kriegies. It had been the origin point of the ‘Great Escape’
tunnel. The West Camp moved out at 12:30 a.m.; the North and Center at 3:45
a.m., and the East at 6:00 a.m. The great exodus was on, a line of men
stretching for 20 miles.”
The
Kriegies were not the only reluctant travelers on the road. Lt. Richard
Schieflebusch had been a POW at Sagan for almost 2 years. In A World War II
Odyssey, he describes the departure from Sagan:
“ We had strange, mixed feelings – glad to be leaving the camp,
but fearful about our future in the extremely cold, snowy night. After several
hours of marching the German command arranged for us to stop for rest and to
receive rations. Unfortunately the stopping place was a windswept autobahn. The
food supplied was black bread and white margarine. After about and hour we went
on with the march, much colder and less confident than before. One of the
principal aspects of our march was the excessive number of civilians,
especially old people and children who were crowding the roads as we moved
toward our still unknown destination. They were, of course trying to escape
westward to avoid the Russian armies that were over running their villages and
their homes. The estimates that were given in the historical account of this
migration was 6,000,000 people. They were mainly Polish and German. It was the
most abject, massive human tragedy that I have ever seen. The procession
included people with small horse drawn carts, wagons, and people with sleds and
people with backpacks, all trying to survive.”
Vernon
L. Burda writes about one incident during the first hours of the march in his
composition I Saw Ten Thousand Men Cry:
“The column of men was terrifically long and we moved very
slowly. Along the highway (Highway 99), we met the once mighty Wermacht Ski
Troopers, all in white – and these ‘Supermen’ were begging cigarettes from us
as we passed. They were either about 40 or 50 years old or young kids – headed
for the front.”
Simmons’
account of the beginning hours of the March of Death is very similar to
Schiefelbusch’s.
“Our travel along the highway was almost paralyzed by the
thousands of people moving in one direction. These civilians were bitter and
demoralized, and many of them, I felt sure, would rather surrender to the
Russians than continue. The civilians were, in fact, prisoners too, for the
S.S. troops moved them by the force of rifles and bayonets. Every now and then
some civilian would sit down and refuse to go on. A rifle shot allowed the
civilian to sit there forever.”
On
the night of Sunday the 29th, the Germans allowed an overnight stop.
Schiefelbusch was able to grab some sleep in a barn. Simmons and about two
thousand others spent the night packed into a small church. The Kriegies began
to realize their situation was even worse than they had expected. Many of the
men were becoming very ill. Simmons describes his night in the church:
“The church was packed so tightly that any man who found it
necessary to move more than a few feet was almost certain to step on someone
else. Toilets were set up outside, and there was a continuous line to and from
them. With two thousand men in one small building, lines were moving all night
long. Many men became desperately sick at their stomach and were never able to
reach the door. Dozens of men rushed up aisles vomiting all the way. Others
with dysentery stepped on hands, feet, and stomachs, trying to get outside.
Nerves were strained to the breaking point.”
The
next stop on the March of Death would be Muskau. After hours upon hours of
marching in the freezing cold, sleet and snow, they arrived. The men were to be
sheltered in an industrial area, in abandoned factories and plant buildings.
This was somewhat alarming since they would be targets for air raids, but as
Simmons put it, “most of us were too tired to care”. Simmons and Burda were
housed in brick buildings with heaters. Burda describes it as dry, warm and
lit…
“And best of all we got German black bread and marge. We were
too tired to do much but eat – and then we slept on the concrete floor.”
Schiefelbusch’s
experience at Muskau shows the enormity of the March by the contrast in
available shelter.
“On the last phase of marching our group was on the tail end of
the marching line. This meant that we would be the last group to be sheltered.
After an hour we were herded into the only shelter left for us, an abandoned
glass factory. A 30 x 20’ massive iron slide door designed to close us off form
the wind and snow wouldn’t close. It was off the slide mechanism and couldn’t
be moved. So we tried to make the best of it. We arranged those in the worst
shape into a compact group on the cement floor of the huge enclosure and found
blankets to put over them. We searched through their clothing and back packs to
find something for them to eat. We reasoned that their bodies had simply run
out of heat and that we must help them to replenish it. Sleep for most of the
helpers was out of the question until we got those in shock or those convulsing
stabilized so that they could rest. We lit fires, but the smoke became so thick
and dangerous that we had to put the fires out.”
The
next day, the Kriegies would make the march some 18 miles to Spremberg where
the second phase of their nightmare would continue. Burda says:
“We saw plenty of signs that reminded us of home – Esso,
Mobiloil, Kodak, Agfa and others. The Germans crowded us into old French 40 and
8s’and I do mean crowded. There were 55 men and a guard in our car…I lay on the
floor and several times I woke up with four men laying zig zag across me so
that I couldn’t even move…we had gotten to the point where we didn’t care where
we were going as long as we got there. The Germans gave us no water and that
was no fun. Most of the guys had loose bowels and were throwing up.”
Somehow
the Kriegies were able to find some type of order in this chaotic environment.
They would stand and lay down in shifts, organized areas of the cars for
toilets, cared for the sick, and attempted to get along with each other. The
major problem was the lack of water and the refusal of the Goons to provide it
for them. Eventually it came to a breaking point, as Simmons explains:
“All of us started hollering ‘Wasser, Wasser.’ We had made up
our minds we were either going to get some water or die. The station was
crowded with civilians trying to board trains. There was a pond just ahead of
the engine, and there were water fountains in the station. We broke ranks en
masse, and started for the pond and water fountains.
Guards fired in the air, but all of us moved to the water. Men drank and filled
their cans and jars with water. Until that moment I had never realized the
value of plain water. It was the most valuable necessity of life, without water
men became animals.”
It would be four days
before the men would arrive at Mooseberg, and their new home Stalag VII–A. The buildings at VII-A were meant to house 100
prisoners but were now housing 300. The latrines were overflowing, and there
was excrement all over camp. The fleas, lice, bedbugs, and rats were rampant.
Many of the Kriegies had not changed clothes or bathed in over a month. The
Kriegies would spend the rest of the winter at Mooseberg in bad conditions.
Schiefelbusch tells of the conditions:
“We came into a louse infested, crowded, hungry, under heated,
and confused environment, I honestly believe that the Germans were doing their
best. But their transportation system was breaking down, Red Cross supplies
could not get in. The communication with our home folks was non-existent. The
Germans literally did not have enough food and fuel for the camp, and worst of
all they did not have any clear-cut policy for running the camp.”
On
April 29th, things were about to get better. Tanks were seen in the
distance. A short battle ensued, and ended quickly with a tank from Patton’s
Third Army crashing through the gates. The soldiers were throwing rations to
the prisoners as if it were candy. Celebration ensued as the Kriegies knew that
for them, the war was really over. Burda explains the moment very passionately:
“Then, suddenly for no apparent reason a hush fell over the
compound, and all eyes turned toward the town in which stood two high church
steeples…and then it occurred, a scene, the happening of which brought tears
streaming down the face of every American prisoner-of-war there, and a sob from
every throat – we saw the greatest sight, the most emotional moment we would
ever witness – raised before our eyes and flying defiantly above one of the
church steeples was the symbol of our beloved land – The American Flag. Yes,
the tears flowed from over ten thousand faces that day – over ten thousand
unashamed faces, as that flag shocked us back with memories of the place we all
held most dear – our beloved land, our home.”
Many
of the Kriegies in Stalag Luft III were airmen who had been shot down. They may
not have fought the war on the front lines, but they fought a different type of
war - a war in their mind. A war against discouragement, hopelessness, and
despair was their fight. They battled to keep their fellow Kriegies in high
spirits, to make sure they all saw their homes again. A bond developed, a bond
allowing them to make the march from Sagan. A union enabling a man to carry a
stranger on his back for days through the snow, and to never meet him again was
not uncommon. There was an inner strength, empowering a sick man on the verge
of death to march through arctic conditions with only a vision of home to move
his tired legs. Many of these men ever left Sagan, and many never completed the
march to Mooseberg. However, many more did make it home to their families,
careers and lives. They have a fascinating story to tell and one which needs to
be remembered.
Schiefelbusch,
Richard L. (2000). A World War II Odyssey. Privately Published.
Simmons,
Kenneth W. ( 1960). Kriegie. New York: Thomas Nelson & Sons
The
Association of Former Prisoners of Stalag Luft III. (1995) The Longest
Mission.
Author
Andrew Turner is the Grandson of Douglas B. Myers, who made the March from
Sagan. He was the Co-Pilot of the B-24D “Wicked Witch” with the 506th
Bomb Squadron / 44th Bomb Group. The Wicked Witch was downed by flak
May 14, 1943 during a bomb run over the Krupp Submarine pens in Kiel, Germany.