A Brief Time in the Life of a British Prisoner of War (Introduction).

my dad is wearing the white shirt - picture taken in the camp

My dad, seen here on the right, white shirt, in this battered photograph taken in a prisoner of war camp, was a Seaforth Highlander (British infantry regiment now de-commissioned). The Seaforth Highlanders formed part of the British Expeditionary Force that fought, only to briefly, against Hitler's army in France during the early stages of World War Two. They were sacrificed by Churchill in order to allow the great escape that became known as Dunkirk. Thousands were then captured at St Valery in France where they fought the German Army in a diversionary tactic aimed at dividing the enemy and keeping German forces from reaching Dunkirk. It seemed to work as many thousands of allied forces did escape at Dunkirk. My dad died in 1974. His period in as a POW had a massive effect on his life, standards and values. To refer to one small element of that character, he was absolutely non judgmental and completely fearless, both physically and in opinion. Some years ago, many years after his death, I found an old shoe box in the loft. Inside, amongst a whole heap of bric a brac, was a battered old diary. I transcribed, as best I could, every word in the diary and now commit these words to this blog. The diary covers only two short periods of my dad's war, from 7th to 25th January and then 24th to 30th March, hardly one calendar month out of so many. There is no year attached, however from what is written it appears to be towards the end of that war. Before my dad's war ended he, along with thousands of other allied prisoners was, in deepest winter, marched through Poland to Danzig (now Gdansk). Thousands died during that unnecessary misuse of power and cruelty.  I will reproduce the diary in chunks, episodes. The first episode will be tomorrow. See you then.