A German prisoner of war camp is something you never forget, and Oflag 64 was a very special one. Here is a look at those grim, and not-so-grim, days a half century ago.

Henry Soederberg, from the International YMCA,
visited the camp many times to arrange for his aid shipments.
Here are excerpts from his diaries
and letters home

THE FIRST VISIT, AUGUST 16, 1943.

Today I have visited Oflag 64 for the first time, the camp with American officers. They are billeted in an old school where previously the Germans had kept English officers. There were several bold escape efforts made here in the past. For the time being, there are about 250 officers here. Most of them have been taken prisoners in Africa at the end of the African campaign. They had been fighting against the German Field Marshal and hero, Erwin Rommel.

I am getting an overwhelmingly fine reception. I am the very first visitor from the outside world, so they say. It seems as if the joys of the officers should be more accentuated because of the fact that already, some time before my visit, a big load of YMCA material had arrived from Geneva, which was a very quick delivery. (This happened as a result of a request I had placed in Geneva for this camp after we had been informed by the German High Command that many American officers soon would arrive in Szubin. A very substantial need for equipment for cultural and leisure time activities was anticipated.)

The German Commandant, Oberst Schneider, receives me well. He says that the Americans are "Schentlemen." Their chief man of confidence, Colonel Drake, has gone away for the day for a medical check-up at a nearby hospital. But the Commandant says that I shall find pleasure also in meeting the stand-in, Lt. Colonel John K. Waters. He points out immediately that Waters is the son-in-law of General Patton, someone for whom the Germans seem to have the same kind of respect and admiration as they have in the reverse direction for their own field Marshal Rommell.

I find that John Waters and the officers whom I met today are very fine representatives of the United States. I am meeting a new kind of camp and different type of prisoners-of-war. Both the environment and the atmosphere are different from the many English camps I have visited, especially those with airmen. The Americans are not so arrogant toward the Germans as I am used to seeing in British camps. Perhaps the distance from here to home on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean is too long. The knowledge about European conditions and European geography seem to be very limited by many of those to whom I spoke. I do not think that these Americans are so much set to escape as are the British. However, I quickly find out that there is a very, very firm determination among the Americans to make the best of captivity. The discipline in camp seems to be hard--thanks to Colonel Drake?

I learn that John Waters is a man from West Point, a place and a name with which I am not too familiar. I sat with Waters for two full hours. He is a very high, athletic type of officer, perhaps 35 years, with steel-gray eyes and an attitude which radiates both composure and determination, but also a deep amount of humanitarian feelings and friendliness. He tells me in well-controlled words what is going on in the camp, about the situation at large, and I get the feeling that the conditions are, on the whole, acceptable under the circumstances and that the relations to the Germs are correct and harmonious. (A German security officer sits with us all the time and takes notes.)

We then make a tour of the camp, and we are meeting with various kinds of camp leaders. We are walking the stairs up to the attic; they have plenty of space there. I can see how they are arranging the space for school and art classes. Many of them are sitting, faraway, sunk in their studies which seems to be much appreciated. In one corner a trio is playing first-class dance music. The trumpeter, so I am told, is a first-rate jazz musician. His name is Bob Rankin.

In one corner of the camp they are playing table tennis. They have made the tables themselves, so they are not too fashionable. I promised them to place orders for the correct type of table tennis tables. In the rooms where the men sleep, I find many of them sitting working with small models or hobby works of various kinds.

Many of the boys are coming up to me. They are not shy at all; they are telling me what kind of requests they have. I more or less get the feeling of being a kind of Father Christmas or Santa Claus here. They have long lists, covering everything from pencils to typewriters and pianos, so I have to point out, time after time, that , outside, there really is a war going on. Germany is at war and transportation of goods is a real problem. Of course, they understand this, laughingly.

In the brick barrack out on the yard, they are planning to build a theater. They need wood and planks and they need equipment of various kinds in order to get their theater going. I am speaking to the Commandant about these things after the visit. He is promising, "on my word of honor, " as he says, to do everything as quickly as possible, in order to have "a good camp."

One thing which really impresses me is that they already have a university of some kind going, but, even in this "university" with extremely good teachers, there is a great shortage of material for education.

FROM A VISIT IN NOVEMBER 1943

Sports life in Oflag 64 is flourishing, but they need balls of various kinds. We are waiting with great tension for the tennis tables to arrive from Sweden; at least they have been ordered. A Roman Catholic priest, Father Stanley Brach, a man with a neat beard and a velvet soft voice, now leads the religious services for both Catholics and Protestants. Oberst Schneider, the Commandant, says that he is rather surprised over the activities by the Americans in the church field. He had never expected them to be that way. (Goebbels is daily telling us something else.)

There is music en masse: fine accordions have found their way into the camp; a piano teacher is conducting a class with several promising pupils. A choir was formed a couple of weeks ago, and the group stood up in front of us visitors and sang. It sounded fine, considering the short time they had been practicing.

There is a professional radio man in the camp, Captain Howard Holder. In civil life he is an employee of an American radio station. He has got a regular radio program going over the camp loud speakers. You can hear this wherever you are in the camp -- music, lectures, information to the men and discussions. It seems to be a very much appreciated camp program. I understand that such an activity must be typically American. There are painters and model builders in full work.

I paid several more visits to Oflag 64 during the winter and spring; but even adventurous visits could become a kind of routine in the hectic life of a YMCA delegate, visiting two to three camps every week. I met many new and interesting American officers at every visit. Repeated contacts with them and messages to and from their homes in the USA created a kind of special friendship between us. (They wrote their names and home addresses in my War Time Log.) I felt warmly toward them, and they in turn seemed to like my visits. A few extracts from my reports and letters to Sweden about Oflag 64 and my views on the Americans might be of interest:

Author: Becky Driscoll
E-Mail: bdriscoll@dcccd.edu