The rest of the guys in our column were outside in a tent, and a few days later the word was the boys are marching out again. Sergeant Red said, “You aren’t going, you’re staying right here.” There were about two dozen of us Americans that the British wouldn’t let go because we would never have made it. They hid us until the rest of the column had moved out.
A couple of days later, we could hear the war. The order of business was to get up on the roof and put up signs “POW.” They made the signs from whatever they could find. The British soldiers were pretty shrewd, they knew how to operate. They had been there a long time. They told me that with the cigarettes I had, maybe we could get out the back fence and go up to the mounds in the fields where they knew vegetables were buried.
The guards were no longer the regular German army. The guards were now the people’s army – the old men. Some of them were decent human beings. They were just there because they had to be there. So we bribed the guards so we could go under the wire and go get potatoes from the field. That way we had some food. Everybody was happy about this.
Meanwhile allied airplanes were flying overhead. The autobahn [German highway] was about half a mile away. The planes were attacking the German armor that was running down the autobahn. So we had a ringside seat of the war going on – without getting shot. Our Mustangs and Thunderbolts were a sight to behold.
After watching the war for a while, we started buying bullets from the guards, one bullet for one cigarette, until the guards in the camp didn’t have any bullets. So now we could go out and get carrots and potatoes, and we’d come back and cook them every which way we could – we had a feast.
One morning a few days later, the guards were all gone. They had all left during the night. Five of us Americans moved into a small building near the front gate. The British brass objected, but it didn’t do them any good. We were crazy Yanks.
We could hear the war really close. Down the road in front of the camp where we happened to be, we heard the noise of these German tiger tanks. They came rumbling down the road and turned off into the woods. And I’ll tell you they made their own road as they went.
About a half hour later, down the road came more tanks, and these tanks were British tanks. They were the 7th Armored Scots Guards. I will never forget them because this half a dozen tanks, which were following the German tanks, pulled into the field where the German tigers went into the woods. Then they lined up and shut their engines off. We watched them from behind the fence where we stood. They got out of their tanks, and pulled out their canteens. These were hot canteens, and they sat down and brewed tea. They spent around 15 minutes there, relaxing, drinking their tea, taking a break. After a bit they got back in their tanks, buttoned them down, and went off into the woods after the Germans.
A little while later, another tank came up and drove through the main gate, demolishing it. The tank drove right into the front of the camp, where at this point all the ranking British officers were lined up wearing the most beautiful uniforms – I don’t know where they got them. They were all prim and proper. I don’t know how they did it but these British officers still had their riding crops. The first tank came in and then the command tank came in, and of course we Americans were climbing all over the first tank. I got to tell you, all you wanted to do was kiss them.
The commander, an officer, got out of the command tank. All these prim and proper British officers were standing on the porch of the headquarters building. They didn’t shake hands, they didn’t do any of the things that we Americans did. They were like “good show” and that kind of stuff. Hell, after three and a half years, you think they’d kiss the man. But those Brits remained prim and proper at all times.
Exploring the German Countryside
The next day the word came down from the British officers that nobody leaves the camp. Five of us Americans figured that when an American officer tells us not to leave camp, we’ll stay in camp. So we decided to go out and get some food. We went down the road, and there happened to be some chickens running loose, and one of the rebels started chasing one so he could have some chicken dinner. Then the five of us left and went to hunt for food.
We stopped at the first farm we came to and walked in. We told them who we were. These were farmers on a communal farm, and they were sitting at this big long table. It happened to be lunch time, and they shared their food with us. It was just soup but it was food. They were very friendly, they didn’t act like enemies like you’d expect.
We decided to keep going and at the next farm, a man gave me a shotgun. So we had a gun. Some of the other Yugoslav officers left at the camp had a shot gun and had gone out and shot a deer. So we figured let’s go out and shoot a deer and have ourselves some fresh meat. So we found out where they went, and took this dirt road into the woods.
There was an old abandoned farm, and as we walked around one of the buildings all of a sudden there was a German soldier lying on the ground. At first we thought he was dead, but he was just sleeping in the sun. He got up and raised his hands in the air.
So now we had a rifle and a prisoner. One of the men, a Jewish guy from New York, spoke a little German. He asked the German soldier if he was alone. He said no, and that there were more men in the other building.
We walked over to the other building and told him to call them out. So the German hollered and they came out. There was a non-com and five other soldiers. Of course they had to be searched for weapons. So I searched this one non-com and he had a Beretta in a shoulder holster, which I took out. I brought it home with me.
Now we got six German soldiers, what are we going to do with them? We brought them back to camp.
The next day we decided to go out again. But this time we had weapons. We got one squirt gun, a couple of rifles, a shot gun, and I got the Beretta. We figured we are going to go out and get ourselves a deer today.
As we are walking down the road, it was quite a jolt when we saw about 18 German soldiers coming down the road. We just looked at them thinking, “Oh shoot, after all we’ve been through, this is how it’ll end...” We said, “We don’t back out – we can’t.” So, we kept on walking, and as we got close to them they raised their hands in the air. So now we got 18 prisoners. What did we do with them? We marched them back to camp. When we got there, we caught hell from the British officers. But what the hell were we supposed to do, let them go? They didn’t want to fight.
We said the hell with it. Next time out, we decided to head for the nearest town instead of going into the countryside. We knew there was a town down the road. We’d heard about it. One of the Yugoslavs had been there already. He said, “There’s a bakery down there.” He came back with some bread. Great big round loaves of rye bread. So we took off for that town.
We were feeling pretty good because we had been getting something to eat, but we looked like hell. We looked bad. We went into town, found the bakery, and we walked in. They gave us all the bread we could carry and we headed back to camp.
On the way back we ran into a British recon outfit, and a guy in the jeep asked us, “What the hell you doing in that town? That town hasn’t been cleared yet.” We told him we went to get some bread. He said, “That corner building over there has an ‘88 sticking out of the window on the second floor.”
Anyway we went back to camp. The next day we figured we’d go back to town and see what else they had to eat. They had food in town. We started heading for town but we got stopped by the same guy in that same recon jeep. He told us to wait a while. They had just sent a few tanks into town. After a while, we heard a few booms in the distance. He told us to wait there, and that if he didn’t come back that it was okay to go in. When we got to town, we could see that whatever that German ‘88 was, they had blown it out of the side of the building. That took care of that.
We got some food and we figured, let’s get the hell out of here and try to get back to England and rejoin our group.
We were intent on reaching American contr
ol and getting back to England. Armored units were fighting close by and we had to detour around them. At one point as we wandered the countryside we came within 1000 yards of one of the death camps. The stench was awful. I don’t remember the name of the camp. There was a guy sitting in a wheel barrow outside the gate getting drunk. He warned us not to go in, so we moved on.
Eventually, we caught a ride with some British soldiers in a truck. The driver took us to a British staging area, and there we had plenty of hot food.
While we were there, we asked the driver how to get back to England. He told us to stick around, “there’s a C-46 Dakota coming in, dropping supplies. He keeps ferrying back and forth. He’s one of your boys.” So we waited. The Dakota came in and we went to see the pilot. We asked if he was going to England. He said, no, that he was going to Brussels but that we were welcome to go along. We said, “That’s fine, Brussels is fine, that’s one step closer.”
On the flight over the pilot showed us the damage our bombers had done to some of the German towns and cities. We could see how Cologne was almost entirely devastated.
Taking the Long Way Home
Brussels
We got to Brussels and got off the plane at the airport, which was under British control at the time. The British sergeant there took one look at us, called one of his men over and told him, “Take these men into town.”
He took the five of us to an army barracks. The British sergeant inside took one look at us, and said, “Come with me.” He led us in and told us to strip. We were deloused, and we got to shower and shave – our first shower since leaving England. The sergeant then outfitted the five of us in British battle outfits, complete with a “tammy.” He told us that when we were all dressed we should stop by the office. He gave us $50 a piece, in Francs. He told us the center of town was just down the street, and we went out for dinner.
We asked someone where to find a restaurant. There was this high-class nightclub kind of restaurant, very elaborate. Like Monte Carlo, a really elaborate joint. And here are the five us Yankees, all skin and bones. We said what the hell, we got money. So we walked up the stairs to the entry where there was a doorman. We asked him if he spoke English. He said yes. We told him we were Americans, POWs, recently liberated and we’d like to come in and have dinner. Well this guy went ape, he started yelling. The maître d’ came out, and the doorman told him who we were. The maître d’ led us in, sat us down, and let everyone in the place know that we were American flyers who had just gotten out of prison camp.
We couldn’t hold down the food. We got really sick. But the people there were as nice as they could be. They wouldn’t let us pay for anything. People kept coming over and in their own way saying thank you. They treated us like royalty.
Camp Lucky Strike
We found out that they were setting up Camp Lucky Strike in Le Havre, France, so we went back to the airstrip and connived a ride to Le Havre the next day.
They dropped us off at Camp Lucky Strike, which was for all air force personnel and all flyers who were POWs, but had been released. When we five walked in, we were among the first 50 or so to get there. The camp was brand new. The first thing we did was sign in. Then you went to the medics, and then you went to eat. And before they let you eat, you had to take pills.
I was there for just one night. Then I was given a list of 50 men, former POWs, and given orders to bring the men to the dock to board a liberty ship headed for the states. I guess I was put in charge because I was the ranking non-com in the group.
Liberty Ship
This liberty ship had nothing on it. No cargo. The cargo bay was set up with bunks and hammocks. The ship carried only food, 50 ex-POWs, the merchant marine crew, and two navy gun crews. We were already heading out to join a convoy.
The first thing that the Merchant Marine captain said to me was: “Your instructions, Sergeant. Every morning you will have roll call on deck.” I just looked at him and said, “Oh.” Who was he kidding? Some of us could hardly walk and some of the men were still very sick.
We connived a method to keep his mouth shut. First I found out where the captain’s quarters were. Then the following morning I went up on deck with a few of the men. I stood just outside the captain’s window. As I called out the names, the men with me took turns answering, “here,” “yea,” “roger,” and so on. And we had no more trouble with the captain.
Every man on board had $50. The first thing any soldier does when he has $50 in his pocket and he’s stuck on a boat is find the crap game. With $50 times 50 guys and all merchant marine and navy crews, all anyone could see was $2500 to be won. So they started a crap game.
After about a week, I walked over to the crap game. I hadn’t joined it yet. Most of the guys were already broke. But who needed the money anyhow. So I got into the crap game. Things were going well for me. I was on a streak and I was finally shooting $1500, all my money. The odds were I wouldn’t make it. If I made it, the game would be over, there was no more money. Everybody got together and covered the bet. Of course, I didn’t make it. Just as well, I didn’t want to be the ranking non-com on board and have all the men’s money.
On the way across the ocean, we got hit by icebergs and we got hit by U-boats. After three or four weeks, the ship limped into New York Harbor. The most beautiful sight to see was the Statue of Liberty. There wasn’t a dry eye when we saw the “Lady” in the bay.
Stateside
When the liberty ship pulled up to the dock, there was no band, no parade. There was nothing but a busload full of MPs with machine guns. The Lieutenant came over to the boat and I had the orders for him.
He said, “Get the men out on the dock.” Everybody got out on the dock. Then he said, “no souvenirs.” I had the Beretta strapped on to my shoulder so I ignored him.
He loaded us onto a bus. We had to walk quite a distance to that bus with a string of MPs on either side of us. I figured what the hell was this?
They brought us to Fort Dix. We got off the bus, and the officer told us to form in a column of twos. I replied, “We don’t form a column of twos, we go in a columns of three,” which, of course, is against strict military regulations.
I explained to him that this was because the man that was hurting was in the middle, supported on either side. We argued a bit. I told him that if he wanted us to march in, then that was how we were going to do it. He was not at all happy with me.
We started to march in and we had to march through the Women’s Army Corps (WAC) barracks areas. When most of us had shipped out there hadn’t been many women in the service. We had never been in a WACs area. There was an MP standing at the doorway to each barrack holding a Thompson. The girls were upstairs hanging out the windows.
I finally had to ask one of the MPs, “Tell me something. Are you there to protect us or them?” He told me he didn’t know and that it was all ridiculous as far as he was concerned.
We went through processing. They issued us new uniforms and the first order of business was to “take off those British uniforms.” There again, I ignored them.
We were given some money. Then we lined up at the phone booth. I called home. My family hadn’t been notified yet – all they knew was that I had been missing in action. I told them I was in New Jersey and would be home the next day. Four of us guys from Connecticut and Massachusetts hired a taxi that took us home from Ft. Dix.
When I left the POW camp I weighed about 80 pounds. When I got home I weighed about 104 pounds. That was because of the food and medicines we had been given on the Liberty ship so we wouldn’t look as emaciated when we got home.
I was given a 30-day furlough, then I was given 30 days in Atlantic City. That was very nice.
After that I went to Millville Airbase in New Jersey. Then we found out about an order issued by a general to the effect that any air force POW who gets to the states doesn’t have to do anything that he doesn’t feel he has to do, and is to be relieved of any duties that he does not wish to perform. So w
e didn’t work at Millville. We had a good time.
About a month later, I went to Westover Airbase and was discharged on Nov. 5, 1945.
P.S. There were some 30,000 American POWs in Europe during World War II, most were airmen like myself. All the non-coms were marched across German on what was later called the Black Hunger March. All who survived still suffer from the cold. I for one can testify to that.
Looking Back
It was not a big deal. It was an interesting experience. If I had to, I would do it all over again. That’s how interesting it was.
You learn about people, you learn about human nature, you learn what the human body can take. The ones that couldn’t take it, didn’t make it.
There were a lot of bright spots and a lot of thrills that a lot of people don’t understand. I have no regrets. I hold no hatred for any of those people. As a matter of fact, I kind of respect a lot of them. The German soldier was doing what he was supposed to do, obeying his superiors, just like we Americans were doing what we were supposed to do.
War today is a bit different I suppose. We didn’t get brass brands and parades, and all that BS that some people think you should have when you come home. It wasn’t necessary.
It was enough just to be home. To see the Statue of Liberty in the bay.
I am not a patriotic person. But I love my country.
- Vincent J. Riccio, February 1991
Afterword
Vincent J. “Nick” Riccio (1921-2004) was inducted into the United States Army on August 15, 1942. He was discharged with the rank of Technical Sergeant on November 5, 1945, exactly one year after the Ludwigshafen mission.
He was awarded the Air Medal, the American Campaign Medal, the Army Good Conduct Medal, the World War Two Victory Medal, the Prisoner of War Medal, and the Presidential Unit Citation.
Ever the Patriot: Recollections of Vincent J. Riccio, World War II Veteran and POW Page 5
