Chapter 10

The Father’s story continues:

The train was packed with many of his fellow travellers being uniformed clad members of the Wehrmacht returning to the front in France. Helmut managed to squeeze himself into a seat which certainly wasn’t large enough for his large frame, but meant that he didn’t have to stand for the entire journey.

He thought to himself: I must be out of my mind to be returning voluntarily to the hell of the trenches? Could I not slip away somewhere with Anelie until this dreadful war is over? I can’t endure what I experienced in France, and I will most likely be killed in the next attack. I won’t have the lovely comforting smell of freshly baked bread in my life for a long time if ever again.

Dread invaded Helmut’s heart and a fear that he hadn’t experienced before took over his whole thought process. Sadness enveloped him, and he put his head down to hide the tears that were welling in his eyes.

Arriving at the station near Arras, where he had left with hope in his heart two weeks previously, he had to trudge through the deep mud and puddles in order to re-join his men in the support trenches. Shortly after arriving he was called to a briefing where he was told that his regiment was being relocated to the Somme area to strengthen the German lines there. A major offensive was expected as the enemy was massing their troops against them in that area.

Helmut’s hope that he might be going to a region where the conditions would be better were quickly dispelled. They were given two days to familiarise themselves with the geography of the new trench layout before being moved up into the front line. More deep mud and the stench of death. Information from enemy soldiers, taken prisoner in forays that took place at night, confirmed that the British and French forces were preparing a massive attack which would involve hundreds of thousands of soldiers across an unusually wide front.

On the 1st. July all hell broke loose. Just before dawn a massive bombardment on the German advanced trenches commenced. Masses of the enemy came over the top of their trenches and started moving towards the German positions like ants. The bombardment suddenly stopped, and an eerie silence hung over no-man’s land. The enemy troops kept approaching in a line about two kilometres long. The order to fire wasn’t given until the enemy were well within range, and then every gun, on the German side, opened fire. It was a massacre and the British and French soldiers dropped like flies in front of the German lines. Amazingly enough the occasional brave soul got through and started firing into the trenches. Relief parties were immediately sent to the areas under attack, and they were quickly expelled back into no-man’s land.

War had been easier to handle emotionally when the opposing armies were just confronting each other from the safety of their respective trenches. The enemy had seemed just a faceless foe. A wounded Tommy fell into the trench that Helmut and his men were occupying. They gave him whatever help they could, under the circumstances, but he died right beside them. War had become highly personal.

The Battle of the Somme was a long affair and ground on and on, day after day. There was no respite for the defenders as the enemy continued to launch attack after attack against all areas of the front. Survival was the key and Helmut thanked God for every day that he survived. He hadn’t been religious before he arrived at the trenches, but he now believed that there was somebody up there protecting him. He and his men were moved around the defensive area on a daily basis, providing reinforcements wherever they were required. His commanders had continually to determine where the next threat was likely to come from and move troops to strengthen that area.

It was on the 16th. July that Helmut’s war came to an end. His small detachment had been moved to defensive positions in a small town called Ovillers in anticipation of an attack. Unlike most of the other defensive positions that he had been in over the past two weeks, he was on a back slope, and forward vision was extremely limited.

Suddenly a mass of enemy troops appeared about a hundred meters away, and from the other flank another attack commenced. The outer defences were overwhelmed and the enemy kept coming. Helmut’s position was quickly surrounded, and he gave the orders to his troop to lay down their arms and surrender. In the confusion the Tommies kept firing, killing a lot of his men. Seeing how large and strong a man he was one of the approaching soldiers gave an order just as he was about to be shot.

‘Don’t shoot him Norm, we can use him to take the Captain back,’ the Corporal shouted.

‘Who; this one Corp?’ he said pointing at Helmut.

‘Yes him’

The Corporal waved his rifle at Helmut, indicating that he should follow him back down the trench the way they had come. Just around the corner there was an officer lying on the ground holding a badly damaged knee. Another soldier was kneeling in front of him fixing a tourniquet around the upper part of the leg to lessen the bleeding.

‘Captain, we have just captured this powerful guy, and we will make him carry you back to our lines,’ the corporal shouted down to the Captain. ‘Norm here will go with you, and he will make sure that you get to our trenches. He has orders to shoot the Kraut if he tries to escape.’

‘Thank you Corporal. There is no way that I can go back on my own.’

Helmut bent down and grabbed the officer under his armpits, putting him across his shoulders. The small rescue party then set off at a trot across no-man’s land to the British trenches.

Bullets were still flying around them as they ran across the 200 meters or so of intervening territory. Helmut had to be careful where he placed his feet as there were so many bodies scattered across the ground that he was in danger of tripping on one and falling.

Just as he got to the British trenches, the soldier, who had been called Norm, staggered and fell. He had been hit and killed instantly by a stray bullet. Helmut stopped momentarily, but then ran the last twenty meters and jumped over the parapet into the trench with the officer. He was immediately surrounded by enemy soldiers.

‘Don’t shoot the Captain called out. This man has just carried me back from the German trenches where I was injured. Get help for me organized and take him to join the rest of the prisoners.

Helmut put the Captain down on an ammunition box. The officer put out his hand to shake Helmut’s hand.

‘What’s your name soldier,’ he asked.

‘Helmut Bekker.’

‘Well Helmut Bekker, thank you for saving my life and getting me back to my own lines safely.’

Helmut, terrified at what might happen to him now his job of carrying the officer had finished, nodded politely and shook the officer’s hand.

Two soldiers plus an NCO had assembled while the pleasantries were going on, and Helmut was now marched away along the connecting trenches from the front towards the rear of the British positions. He joined a group of about fifty other Germans who had been captured that day. Shortly afterwards they were marched under guard further away from the scene of the battle.

Helmut thought to himself: My war is over and I am alive. This morning I woke up thinking that this could be my last day on earth, and now the battle is behind me. Carrying that officer saved my life and got me behind the British front line and now I am going into captivity for the duration of the war.

Helmut smiled, and his whole body relaxed. He certainly had no intention of trying to escape. As a captive, life might be difficult, but at least he would be alive.

They gradually made their way to the coast and on to Dunkirk where they met up with more prisoners and were loaded onto a boat. They were made to sit on the deck in groups which were covered by sentries with rifles. It started to rain and spray blew over the prisoners as the boat ploughed through rough seas. Helmut let the spray wash over his face, welcoming the salt taste of the water. The rain and the spray were bearable as there wasn’t the smell of death and mud any more. Helmut said a short prayer thanking God for his deliverance.

On arriving at Folkstone in the South of England, they were all put on to a train, and, in various stages, brought to the North of England. What surprised Helmut was that they were actually given food at regular intervals, and there was no animosity towards them.

Finally, they arrived at a place called Catterick, which Helmut was told, was in Yorkshire. They were then marched to the internment camp a short distance away where Helmut was destined to spend the next few years of his life.

Just less than a year later, Helmut received a letter from home delivered to the camp by the Red Cross. To his amazement he read that he was now the father of twin boys who had been born in Lubeck on the 5th. February 1917. His wife had named them Kristoff and Markus.