Padre Mac by Murdo Ewen Macdonald

Author:Murdo Ewen Macdonald [Macdonald, Murdo Ewen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Military, Historical, Religious
ISBN: 9780857908254
Google: 0NAcEAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Casemate Publishers
Published: 2014-08-07T02:46:10+00:00

CHAPTER 10

Behind Barbed Wire

After those two nights in Rome, we were put on a train that ended up in Frankfurt am Main, Germany. The moment we alighted we were escorted, under guard, to the camp known as Dulag Luft. It was the interrogation centre and that very night I found myself in solitary confinement. This lasted nineteen days.

All the way from Tunis, I had been in the company of that superb gentleman Dr James MacGavin. He had looked after me like a brother. Indeed, like a mother.

The following day a benign-looking man in civilian clothes entered my cell. Sporting a huge Red Cross armband, he placed a blank sheet of paper in front of me. He said, ‘I am sure your family, especially your mother, are worried about you. Write down their name and address and we’ll dispatch a letter immediately, assuring them that you are safe. Also give us the name and location of your regiment. I am sure your commanding officer will be very pleased to learn you are alive.’

It was not all that difficult to see through him. ‘I’ll give you my name, number and rank, and nothing more,’ I answered. As he argued, he became more and more aggressive and insulting. Goaded beyond endurance, I said, ‘You are not a Red Cross agent. You belong to the Gestapo and you are a low-down, unprincipled ruffian. You are going to lose the war, anyway. If I ever get back, I’ll see to it that you will be tried and severely sentenced. You’ll spend the rest of your life in prison.’

His caring image dissolved and he became a nasty, brutal thug. He pulled a handgun from somewhere and pushed it into the pit of my stomach. ‘I am going to kill you, you Englander Schweinehund,’ he snarled.

‘If you are going to shoot, please call me a Schottländer Schweinehund,’ I answered. Having no sense of humour, he did not understand. ‘Anyhow,’ I continued, ‘I am the first paratroop officer in captivity. You are curious as to how our parachute and technique of exiting differ from yours. If you shoot me without this information, your superiors may send you to the Russian Front. Sorry, they won’t. You are such a narrow-chested, scrawny edition of a man that no one would take you for a soldier. They’ll shoot you instead.’

Losing his nerve, he put his gun into his hip pocket and shambled out.

That very evening, I was subjected to the heat-and-cold treatment. Without warning, the temperature began to shoot up and the room became unbearably hot. It was so hot that sweat oozed through every pore of my body. It flowed in rivulets down my back. As the heat continued inexorably, breathing became difficult. The pounding in my head I found frightening. When there seemed to be no end, I knew the meaning of panic.

Then, all of a sudden, I sensed a change. The choking feeling eased up and I knew the temperature was dropping. It kept on dropping till it went well below zero.

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