A SOLDIER FROM ASTON
Richard John Holland, or “Dick” as he was known to family and friends, looked out over the landscape of what used to be the pride of England’s second City, Birmingham, and thought that perhaps a Bombscape would be more appropriate in the light of the damage due to the ravages of War.
How could anyone have survived the continued pounding of high explosive bombs and uncountable numbers of incendiary devises which were dropped in their hundreds of tons?
But survive they did and cope they did, sometimes having to dig out their own relatives by hand, brothers, sisters, children, parents and even strangers, it was a case of all pulling together. The years they had to endure this kind of toil must have seemed like living a lifetime every single day. Yet none of them ever thought of giving up and quitting because whilst there was breath left in their bodies and strength to carry on there was a purpose in life and without this purpose humans are unable to function correctly.
There must be millions of cases of courage and heroism that came out of those tragic times and who knows one day all the stories may be told and passed down from generation to generation, and let’s ALL hope and pray that there will never be another episode in human history that can equal the futile loss of life.
Let’s hope that one day grandchildren will never have to ask the question “what did you do in the War, granddad”
Dick never witnessed the bombing of Birmingham, like thousands of other men he was off in some foreign clime fighting for King and Country.
The women were left behind to deal with the everyday tasks of running the country, whist still carrying out their Motherly duties, and what a terrific job they did. They rallied round and did all the jobs that were previously known as “ mans work “ keeping the wheels of industry turning, ensuring that public transport got through with as little disruption as possible, and a thousand and one other tasks that was all vital to the war effort
Dicks part in the War is sketchy to say the least, he said very little to his three Daughters, as like most Men of his generation, he felt they didn’t need to know. If he had been blessed with a Son, we may have the full story.
We know that he enlisted (took the Kings shilling) in February 1926 into the Royal Warwickshire Regiment.
He probably did his training at Shorncliffe because we know for a fact that he was there in March 1927 as that was the date he passed 3rd class examination.
After his training period, his travels took him to India, possibly Napier Barracks, The
Sudan, Palestine and Egypt.
Again we know he was in Bombay, India in June 1929 as that was the date he passed his 2nd class examination. After nearly eight years with the Regiment, in 1933 he transferred to the Army Reserve and in 1939 was posted to the British Expeditionary Force
In 1940 he was to be found at Dunkirk where only he and one other survived out of his battalion. We will never know what thoughts and fears must have gone through his mind,
Would he see his family again, would he set foot on British soil again and of course the all important question would he still survive in all the chaos that was going on around him?
A fact is that there were over 30.000 British troops killed or injured at Dunkirk, so what made Dick’s survival so remarkable, sheer luck is the answer, being in the right place at
the right time, who knows a few inches either way and the outcome would have been very different.
He was taken prisoner and transported to a German POW camp at a little place called Lamsdorf in Upper Silesia on the German/ Polish border.
This camp was virtually in the middle of nowhere and carried the name Stalag V111b where he was given the POW number 12498 which was to stay with him until 1945 when he was repatriated.
So what was life like for Dick in the POW camp, we know very little as dick was reluctant to talk about it in any great depth, however we can tell quite a lot from other soldiers’ experiences in the same camp at that time
There was a wood mill and furniture factory where prisoners were made to work long hours.
Quarrying was another job carried out by the prisoners, manhandling and breaking up large rocks with just the basic tools. It was backbreaking and hazardous work carried out in all kinds of weather with few, if any, breaks.
Of course all this work was carried out by prisoners who were fed the bare minimum rations to survive. Potatoes seem to have been the main ingredient in some form or other, perhaps served up with a wishy washy type of soup made from left over fish and meat bones, certainly not robust enough to carry out a full day’s hard manual work, but do it they did. The Germans may have been able to break the man but couldn’t break the spirit. Dick was luckier than most because he had the knowledge to make and repair boots and shoes, in fact he was so good that even the Germans would bring their boots to him and maybe in return they may have given him something to eat or perhaps a few cigarettes.
Anything that could be begged, stolen or traded was of immense value; it not only lifted flagging spirits but gave all the prisoners a feeling of achievement.
A game of football could break out at any time, using anything, remotely capable of rolling, as a ball.
Some of the teams could contain up to 30 or 40 men and usually lasted until they were exhausted. It didn’t matter if there were a winner or not as it was such a good morale booster. Other prisoners got together and would organise foot races and gymnastic displays and Dick, having always been an energetic man would probably have been leading from the front.
The prisoners would occasionally make an alcoholic beverage made by distilling potatoes including the potato peelings and any mouldy spuds as well as anything else that was to hand.
The resulting product was probably as near to rocket fuel that you could get and would guarantee to get you absolutely paralytic.
In February 1945, with the Allies advancing, the camps were hastily evacuated and the prisoners were forced to walk towards the French border, this has been called the Lamsdorf Death March.
The prisoners were force marched for anything up to 25 miles per day in sub zero temperatures. Sometimes they were attacked by allied air forces who mistook them for retreating German soldiers.
The conditions were appalling, the food consisted of anything that could be foraged from the fields and hedgerows, some prisoners were forced into eating grass and roots.
At night they all slept in the open, huddling together for what little warmth they could muster.
Some prisoners died on the march and were just left where they fell, some were shot for trying to run off and again were left where they fell. Some just wandered off and were left to go their own ways as the guards realised that the Allies were getting closer.
On May 3rd 1945, Dick was liberated and began his long journey home, through various resettlement camps, both abroad and at home.
One Saturday in June 1945 Martha received a telegram informing her that Dick was on his way and would return home that very day. She quickly gathered her things together, left her Daughters, Pat and Ivy with neighbours, and rushed off to catch a bus to Aston, across the other side of the city, to Dicks Mothers house to give her the good news.
By the time they arrived back home, the neighbours had trimmed and decorated the whole street ready for Dicks return
Eventually Dick arrived home to a house full of friends and relations and now the celebrations could really begin.
After a few hours, Dick turned to Martha and asked who the little girl was that kept staring at him and was told she was his youngest daughter, Ivy, who was just 2 years old when Dick left to go to war.
How would their wartime experiences affect the returning soldiers, well, it changed them all in one way or another, some returned home devoid of any kind of feelings and unable to integrate into normal everyday life, some became beggars or tramps, some spent the rest of their lives in Hospitals and various institutions, and some adjusted very well and went on to become proud, useful members of society.
Dick, fortunately, became a member of the latter group and built a decent life for himself and his family.
In May 1947 Dick and Martha were blessed with another Daughter, Christine so life was getting considerately better for the much travelled soldier who had seen and done so much and was now content to be at home with his family and enjoy the life he so richly deserved.
Cheerio old chap and thanks.
Jim Pritchard
Richard John Holland, or “Dick” as he was known to family and friends, looked out over the landscape of what used to be the pride of England’s second City, Birmingham, and thought that perhaps a Bombscape would be more appropriate in the light of the damage due to the ravages of War.
How could anyone have survived the continued pounding of high explosive bombs and uncountable numbers of incendiary devises which were dropped in their hundreds of tons?
But survive they did and cope they did, sometimes having to dig out their own relatives by hand, brothers, sisters, children, parents and even strangers, it was a case of all pulling together. The years they had to endure this kind of toil must have seemed like living a lifetime every single day. Yet none of them ever thought of giving up and quitting because whilst there was breath left in their bodies and strength to carry on there was a purpose in life and without this purpose humans are unable to function correctly.
There must be millions of cases of courage and heroism that came out of those tragic times and who knows one day all the stories may be told and passed down from generation to generation, and let’s ALL hope and pray that there will never be another episode in human history that can equal the futile loss of life.
Let’s hope that one day grandchildren will never have to ask the question “what did you do in the War, granddad”
Dick never witnessed the bombing of Birmingham, like thousands of other men he was off in some foreign clime fighting for King and Country.
The women were left behind to deal with the everyday tasks of running the country, whist still carrying out their Motherly duties, and what a terrific job they did. They rallied round and did all the jobs that were previously known as “ mans work “ keeping the wheels of industry turning, ensuring that public transport got through with as little disruption as possible, and a thousand and one other tasks that was all vital to the war effort
Dicks part in the War is sketchy to say the least, he said very little to his three Daughters, as like most Men of his generation, he felt they didn’t need to know. If he had been blessed with a Son, we may have the full story.
We know that he enlisted (took the Kings shilling) in February 1926 into the Royal Warwickshire Regiment.
He probably did his training at Shorncliffe because we know for a fact that he was there in March 1927 as that was the date he passed 3rd class examination.
After his training period, his travels took him to India, possibly Napier Barracks, The
Sudan, Palestine and Egypt.
Again we know he was in Bombay, India in June 1929 as that was the date he passed his 2nd class examination. After nearly eight years with the Regiment, in 1933 he transferred to the Army Reserve and in 1939 was posted to the British Expeditionary Force
In 1940 he was to be found at Dunkirk where only he and one other survived out of his battalion. We will never know what thoughts and fears must have gone through his mind,
Would he see his family again, would he set foot on British soil again and of course the all important question would he still survive in all the chaos that was going on around him?
A fact is that there were over 30.000 British troops killed or injured at Dunkirk, so what made Dick’s survival so remarkable, sheer luck is the answer, being in the right place at
the right time, who knows a few inches either way and the outcome would have been very different.
He was taken prisoner and transported to a German POW camp at a little place called Lamsdorf in Upper Silesia on the German/ Polish border.
This camp was virtually in the middle of nowhere and carried the name Stalag V111b where he was given the POW number 12498 which was to stay with him until 1945 when he was repatriated.
So what was life like for Dick in the POW camp, we know very little as dick was reluctant to talk about it in any great depth, however we can tell quite a lot from other soldiers’ experiences in the same camp at that time
There was a wood mill and furniture factory where prisoners were made to work long hours.
Quarrying was another job carried out by the prisoners, manhandling and breaking up large rocks with just the basic tools. It was backbreaking and hazardous work carried out in all kinds of weather with few, if any, breaks.
Of course all this work was carried out by prisoners who were fed the bare minimum rations to survive. Potatoes seem to have been the main ingredient in some form or other, perhaps served up with a wishy washy type of soup made from left over fish and meat bones, certainly not robust enough to carry out a full day’s hard manual work, but do it they did. The Germans may have been able to break the man but couldn’t break the spirit. Dick was luckier than most because he had the knowledge to make and repair boots and shoes, in fact he was so good that even the Germans would bring their boots to him and maybe in return they may have given him something to eat or perhaps a few cigarettes.
Anything that could be begged, stolen or traded was of immense value; it not only lifted flagging spirits but gave all the prisoners a feeling of achievement.
A game of football could break out at any time, using anything, remotely capable of rolling, as a ball.
Some of the teams could contain up to 30 or 40 men and usually lasted until they were exhausted. It didn’t matter if there were a winner or not as it was such a good morale booster. Other prisoners got together and would organise foot races and gymnastic displays and Dick, having always been an energetic man would probably have been leading from the front.
The prisoners would occasionally make an alcoholic beverage made by distilling potatoes including the potato peelings and any mouldy spuds as well as anything else that was to hand.
The resulting product was probably as near to rocket fuel that you could get and would guarantee to get you absolutely paralytic.
In February 1945, with the Allies advancing, the camps were hastily evacuated and the prisoners were forced to walk towards the French border, this has been called the Lamsdorf Death March.
The prisoners were force marched for anything up to 25 miles per day in sub zero temperatures. Sometimes they were attacked by allied air forces who mistook them for retreating German soldiers.
The conditions were appalling, the food consisted of anything that could be foraged from the fields and hedgerows, some prisoners were forced into eating grass and roots.
At night they all slept in the open, huddling together for what little warmth they could muster.
Some prisoners died on the march and were just left where they fell, some were shot for trying to run off and again were left where they fell. Some just wandered off and were left to go their own ways as the guards realised that the Allies were getting closer.
On May 3rd 1945, Dick was liberated and began his long journey home, through various resettlement camps, both abroad and at home.
One Saturday in June 1945 Martha received a telegram informing her that Dick was on his way and would return home that very day. She quickly gathered her things together, left her Daughters, Pat and Ivy with neighbours, and rushed off to catch a bus to Aston, across the other side of the city, to Dicks Mothers house to give her the good news.
By the time they arrived back home, the neighbours had trimmed and decorated the whole street ready for Dicks return
Eventually Dick arrived home to a house full of friends and relations and now the celebrations could really begin.
After a few hours, Dick turned to Martha and asked who the little girl was that kept staring at him and was told she was his youngest daughter, Ivy, who was just 2 years old when Dick left to go to war.
How would their wartime experiences affect the returning soldiers, well, it changed them all in one way or another, some returned home devoid of any kind of feelings and unable to integrate into normal everyday life, some became beggars or tramps, some spent the rest of their lives in Hospitals and various institutions, and some adjusted very well and went on to become proud, useful members of society.
Dick, fortunately, became a member of the latter group and built a decent life for himself and his family.
In May 1947 Dick and Martha were blessed with another Daughter, Christine so life was getting considerately better for the much travelled soldier who had seen and done so much and was now content to be at home with his family and enjoy the life he so richly deserved.
Cheerio old chap and thanks.
Jim Pritchard
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