PRISON HUMOUR.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 64, Issue 33, 18 November 1943, Page 2

PRISON HUMOUR.

“NO REFRIGERATORS ALLOWED” NEW ZEALANDER’S ESCAPADES. (N.Z.E.F. Official News Service). CAIRO, Nov. 10. Though the consistent grimness of life in a German prison camp requires no emphasis and little imagination to conceive there were occasionally lighter moments, according to some of the repatriated New Zealanders, and, as their existence in captivity seemed to them, so are stories of those lighter moments apparently endless. There was an occasion remembered by all when the enemy authorities ch> culated a long list of articles prohibited in the prisoners’ parcels. Each A 1 lied soldier was handed this list which included such items as refrigerators, washing machines, sewing machines, and potatoes, and was instructed to despatch it to his next-of-kin forthwith. One New Zealander indicated to the Stalag guards that his next-of-kin was renowned for common sense, and washing machines and the like were probably rationed in the Dominion anyway. “You must send it to someone,” he was told, so he addressed it to “Winston Churchill,” and earned himself three days’ detention in the Stalag penitentiary.

Another New Zealander said that shortly before being “compelled” to leave Germany he was assisting an Australian to -wade through a huge dinner, the main course of which comprised three "off coloui’” potatoes. The mail had just been delivered and the day was glorified for the Anzacs by a quite personal letter to each. The Australian had a second letter which proved to be a statement from his business manager, who jestingly added a footnote to his summary of accounts which read: “With a bank balance of £26,500 you must feel like Australia’s Lord Nuffield.” The Australian looked at the guards, at the barbed-wire, and at three potatoes, and was dumb. Then there is the story of the Marburg Fire Brigade. There is (or was) a building in this well-known camp which through the ages Had acquired a false roof. for< some months the refuge of five New Zealanders. These enterprising men had smuggled themselves in to be with their friends, whom they visited in the dark hours, at the same time collecting their Red Cross parcels. Under the main floor of this building was a cellar, and one day a Palestinian prisoner “accidentally” dropped a match into the cellar. By a sheer coincidence the match settled in a ban-el of naphthalene, and it was not long befox-e huge clouds of dense black smoke were pouring from the building. “Feuer!” screamed the guards, who then telephoned the Max-burg Fire Station. The brigade arrived in all its splendour 1 , the truck’s crew arrayed in a lady-killing uniform which included many swastikas, Sam Brown belts and Ix-on Ci-osses. The wearers were well drilled. Dressing by the right, they heiled Hitler, then, while the “fire” improved on itself, they turned about marched to the other side of the vehicle and heiled Hitler some more. In the meantime the five New Zealanders who had taken sanctuary in the attic were feeling uncomfortable. They were not equipped with respirators against naphthalene gas, so they had no alternative but to declare themselves to the astounded guards. It took the 'Marburg m brigadesmen some time to organise, because while they were rolling out their canvas hose several senior officers appeared, each warranting further heils to Hitler. But it did not matter much, because the building had. been ablaze for so long that there was no hope of saving it. In any case, the brigade discovered that it had no water, and there was no hydrant in the camp. The real story lies in the fact that when the brigade had depax-ted and everything had settled back more or less to normal a small party of New Zealanders produced 200 feet of excelent hemp rope which had formed a main part of the Marburg crew’s equipment. It was later used for the construction of a boxing i-ing.