Kiwi Kriegie

Solitary confinement produced its own features. After I had been there about a week, something would happen each evening after supper. In the general pattern there wouldn't have been much food throughout the day. At evening, say about five thirty they would bring a good feed. A bowl (dixie) of vegetables, lots of potato and hopefully something green and perhaps some swede cooked together with quite good juice which had at least the flavour of meat. With luck I also had a chunk of bread either left over or perhaps scrounged. Don't knock it, this against a background of a cell five paces long and two paces wide, no view except a tiny bit of the sky and very sparse rations through the day was something to be looked forward to.

Having finished my 'meal' and probably gone back to my usual pastime of pacing up and down; four paces turn, four paces turn and so on, suddenly the cell walls would drop away. For all the world it was as if I was outside and my mind could roam absolutely freely. I knew that I was really in the cell but this didn't seem to worry me at all. I could pursue any line of thought, visualise any part of the world, within my knowledge, reason any argument through to a logical conclusion, and generally experience a feeling of well-being the like of which I have seldom felt in other circumstances. My imagination seemed to be completely unfettered.

This seemed to last something up to an hour as far as I could judge. It would end as suddenly as it began, just like ablind coming down, or the end of a performance at the theatre.

Suddenly it was all over and I was back to earth'. The cell was there again gray walled as usual and smelling the same. All jails have a particular smell, a mixture made up of sweat, excrement and disinfectant, but also fear, and frustration I think. There I was back again, the show was over. My imagination was again restrained within much closer limits. However, and this is important, there was not a feeling of let­down, rather a feeling of satisfaction; a feeling that I was still part of something much more than that which was enclosed within the four walls of the cell.

  This seemed to happen most nights in the circumstances I have outlined. I noticed it while doing other stretches of solitary in other jails later on. It was pleasurable while it lasted and it also left a feeling of contentment. This was not in the sense of lying down and accepting fate but rather of realising that there was a struggle to be handled but that was OK. Win lose or draw I was satisfied. It was probably connected with blood sugar levels, the affect of food on an empty stomach.

~~~ 

Back in the Amiens jail there was a good deal of graffiti on the cell walls, mostly of the 'A bas les Boche' and "Merde Merde Merde' variety, but there was one that sticks in the memory 'Condemne a mort pour ma propre fusil de chasse!' In other words some poor cove condemned to death for owning or concealing his own shotgun! Probably didn't hand it in after the occupation.

The French lad found me some reading, it was a 'Strand' magazine, decidedly middle aged but unmistakable in form, layout and illustration. The lad was so thrilled with himself for scrounging this 'English' magazine for his R.A.F. comrade that I never had the heart to tell him it was all in Dutch. However it served to pass many hours for me trying to figure out the drift of the stories. I only hope the incident didn't leave a continuing confusion in his mind between the two languages.

~~~

The only thing during the interrogation sessions that was a bit out of line was the use of a little chain thing they had, basically used as a 'Come Along' for people they had arrested.

It was a short chain with two T' pieces on the ends, one solid the other grooved to fit. This they would wind round my wrist fitting the two pieces together. When tightened then twisted, this could be quite painful. Particularly as I had a large boil on my wrist just where they seemed to put the chain.

Galbraith Hyde

Dad carried scars on his wrists for the rest of life for this month long interrogation.

Timothy Hyde

NEWS FLASH   Jan 26th

I've had many requests and questions
about making the whole manuscript available now
as an E-book.

People who can't wait for three years to read it page by page in Real Time.

Obviously, you have only been reading extracts.
The full manuscript contains much more
and starts from the day war is declared. It includes flight training,
the trip to Canada then England for conversion to Bombers,
life in war time England, the quirks of flying a Stirling ,
Bomber Operations over Europe including flights over the Alps,
the full story of the crash flight,
and of course all the adventures listed on the home page.

We are in the middle of preparing the manuscript for distribution.
If you are interested in obtaining a copy
as a Acrobat PDF file (requires the free Acrobat Reader to open)
please send me an email and I will let you know when it is ready.

Click here to send Email

There will be a small charge for each copy
but this will be kept as a minimal figure as we want as many people
as possible to read the story.

If you do register your interest by emailing
there is no obligation to buy when it is released
but you will be offered a special pre-publication price.

Timothy Hyde