Southland man John Welsh made daring escape as Prisoner of War
As Southland man John Welsh sat on the side of the road, resting during the Death March towards the end of World War II, he knew he wouldn’t survive if he carried on.
He and others taken as prisoners of war by the Italian Carabiniere were forced to march for 98 days, hundreds of kilometres through snow and ice, with many dying along the way.
John had been part of the 20th Battalion, made up of men from Southland and Otago.
He had been attached to the headquarters as a driver, then as a Bren gun carrier driver, and was captured in Libya in 1941.
It was now 1945, and as the others picked themselves up to carry on, John rolled into a ditch and played dead until the troops were out of sight.
John then made his way across fields, eating whatever he could find.
A few days later, becoming increasingly weak, he came across a farmhouse with an outbuilding, climbed into the loft and fell asleep.
Later that night John awoke to the sound of motorbikes and through a crack in the roof, he saw Gestapo who came into the building and went to sleep.
On the sound of snoring coming from below, John made his getaway by taking slates off the roof until there was a hole big enough for him to fit through.
Eventually, John felt he could
not go on and decided to give himself up. On arrival to a farmhouse, he was taken in by a German family who gave him food. They told him the war was over and he was given a bed with fresh sheets to sleep on.
John continued on his journey, hoping to find British troops. A jeep with two American soldiers stopped him and being that he was in ragged clothing, they didn’t believe he was an Ally, as at this time Germans were disguising themselves to avoid capture.
Their attitude changed when they saw the tattoo of the fern leaf and regimental number tattooed on his wrist.
John’s son Andrew knows this is an incredible story, but says he heard a good majority of it from his Aunt Lillian - John’s sister.
Andrew
John sent photos.
John had a camera before his has some letters home, as well as
capture and sent many photos home with his letters.
‘‘[All John’s belongings are] special for me too, it really is,’’ Andrew said.
John was discharged from service in November 1945. On his return to New Zealand after the war, John settled in Gore.
John didn’t talk about his time in war much.
‘‘To be honest I learnt more after his death. I’d get a few whiskeys in him and he’d come out with a wee bit but certainly I learnt more after his death,’’ Andrew said.
John lied about his age when enlisting for the war, only 18 at the time.
His sister Lillian was a nurse in the war, serving in Baghdad and the Middle East before she settled in England after the war. John met her there after he escaped capture.
In a book she wrote about the
Welsh family called Roses in December, Lillian describes the look of terror on his face after she disturbed his sleep when he first arrived in England.
He soon settled again when he realised he wasn’t in a POW camp, but rather safe with his sister.
The true horror of what he went through as a Prisoner of War is not conveyed in his letters. Even communication sent in his time captured reassures his sister and parents that he is safe and well, but urges them to send through as many parcels as they can filled with honey, jam, marmite and dried fruit.
JOHN WELSH 9261, LETTER TO HIS MOTHER.
21/5/41 Dear Mother,
I hope that you are well and in good health. I am fine.
You will have heard about Greece and Crete by now, so all I can say is that they are two wonderful places and I would like very much to be able to go back after the war.
I will never forget Greece and its people as long as I live.
When we landed at the port we received a great welcome and as we marched through the streets of Athens the people lined the sidewalks cheering and waving and throwing flowers.
At all our halts along the twelve mile march the crowds would give us wine, spirits and cigarettes, and even cakes. It was marvellous.
When we arrived at our camp I was loaded up with flowers, in my hat, in my shirt and around my neck.
It was like that throughout the country.