Picture of Louis on South African identity card during 1970.
Plus picture of his Buchenwald concentration camp medal.
On the fabric is a metal part with symbolizes that he was in two different camps, Auschwitz and Buchenwald as well as in a prison near Bordeaux, France for approximately a 4 year period during the German occupation.
"
One day one of the guards we called "Discipline" put the radio onto the B.B.C and walked away leaving us to listen. By this time, my hand had healed nicely and I had no after effects from it, I could move it. !!!
The last guard was younger than the previous ones and his name I can't recall. One day he was very upset after returning from leave as most of his family had perished and he had also been reprimanded by his superiors for allowing thirty inmates to escape from the top floor. They took the bricks away from the window, bent the bars upwards and used their sheets knotted together in strips to get to the street below and flee. This was done dodging between the patrols and the guards at the gate.
Only a few were brought back, the rest got away. So the guards continued to tap bars and watched us like mad. Nevertheless, one day my luck came! We found ourselves cleaning the anti-room used as a store room near the street. It had no bars or bricks built in and very dirty, as we swept the dust began to swirl upwards, so the guard opened the window for air. At the same time, some mice were disturbed and they came out from among the furniture as we moved in with our brooms. Like a cat on the chase he and my mate were after the mice. They took off towards the passage with the guard and my mate in hot pursuit.
I was alone standing straight in front of the window. Looking outside to my left and right I saw just the sentry at the big gate returning. I waited for a chance for him to turn away from my view.
My opportunity vanished with the return of my guard. He was very flustered and blowing from his run with the mice. Looking at me and then at the window he quickly realised what could have happened and shut it. He went very red in the face and took us quickly to our rooms, ignoring everything else. I bet he had a shock. He wasn't quite sure of anything, neither was I. We both had our regrets, I am sure, for our failures. Such opportunities only come once they say.
I remained there for 9 months and I began to think they had forgotten about me as everybody was going out on regular transports, all before me. There was only a couple like me left. In between the big room and the soup run I continued my education. We had nothing else left except professors and members of the diplomatic corps as well as a few others. The professors took great delight in teaching us in the evenings and weekends when most of the guards were off duty.
The guards arranged for us to have the Red Cross and Quaker packets distributed and we had competitions as to who could produce the best looking cake in the straight bowl. It was a mixture of French bread blended with the ingredients in the packet, from jelly to all kinds of biscuits. It was amazing what came out of it, like that we had an interest and made it last. One poor soul from Lithuania could only hold out for a short while as he was famished and then he set upon it like a wild animal.
The bugs were still unbearable and I saw one person wrapping himself up like a mummy, only to make it worse. The bugs got in between and underneath the material. He had big blobs really swollen up to an enormous size and he cried like a child. We couldn't console him his mind was deranged. Listening to the professors talking about Ghengis Khan, Kublar Khan and the light of Asia Buddha brought him back into the fold with us!
Then there was Professor Beck from, The University of Tarbes, talking about his re-generated potatoes, produced in his lab. The Nazi's were after his work on potatoes as well as he studies of locusts. These studies started just before the war in Mauritania and Senegal. He made an effort to farm the locusts and experimented with making them sedentary so that he could produce an ideal food from them, a kind of flour meal.
To top it all, there was Maxwell of Brussels talking nine languages fluently and teaching us the rudiments of them all. We even went as far back as Sanskrit with him. There was a real Gypsy amongst us too, looking more like a Sikh. He was taken as a Sikh on the frontier of the Pyrenees, unable to explain or write in our languages he was a suspect and they took no chances with him.
Within a week, Maxwell was able to converse with our Gypsy in his own Romany. He started to teach him to read and write in our language. One day, Maxwell disappeared on one of the transports and as he was Jewish there was not much hope for him!
At that time, I didn't know what happened to the Gypsy but we met again later. Maxwell left us a statement on the real origins of the Gypsies. He said that they were an early nomadic tribe from the Punjab regions who travelled westward towards Europe after the big migrations of the Indo Europeans.
I also met a Polish cadet, Janeck who tried to cross the mountains dressed like a boy scout. He had made his way from Poland to Greece via Transylvania where he was eventually captured. Later on, he told me that he had killed a couple of Germans and changed his name from Pareuski to Borofski. When the Germans caught him, they let his beard grow for three days, which proved that he was older than the boy he tried to make himself out to be, so that was it for him"
To be continued ...
"I was feverish by the time we were herded into a largish hall. The guards were joking around and making signs of the gallows and stringing us up. I didn't like it, mostly, I think, because I wasn't feel too good and I felt very much enclosed in that hall because it didn't have much sunlight. The building was old with bars on the top of the curved windows and reeked with a musty smell of age.
What a way to go I thought. I preferred to be executed in the sunlight and in open air. I mumbled something which nobody understood, it was something like a last wish. I must have been really delirious. People pointed at my hand and somehow that explained it to them. I wished they would leave us alone now.
When we were sorted out they put us into cells, which were converted rooms with the same curved windows, bricked in with bars. I thought that we might escape from the third floor, the bricks were loosely placed. The rooms were quite big containing a lot of people who would be available to remove the bricks.
Those big rooms were my first quarters and the conditions were not very good. One latrine for all of us, which had to be carried in an out and cleaned. The senior prisoners and new inmates took turns at this task. They dished out watery soup and rations. There was also some wooden bunks and each of us had a bowl and a metal cup. In that room there were twenty four people!
The biggest problem or rather plague was the vermin that swarmed through those buildings. All kinds of vermin and so many appeared. It made one wonder whether they had just poured them out of a big bag to make life difficult for us. From daybreak onwards we were kept busy delousing and the Germans were fully cooperative with this process.
At night the only chance to delouse was when the guards put the lights on to see whether we were still there. When the lights came on we heard the guard's heinous laugter, like hyenas, as they saw us killing the bugs creeping everywhere and stinking from drinking our blood.
In the evening, we usually put our cups and bowls under the table legs, chairs and beds enabling everybody to have a turn at sleeping on those objects. The bugs still dropped from the ceiling sensing the warmth of our bodies. We just could not rid ourselves of the bugs.
Eventually, the bugs reached the German quarters. However, it took time before disinfectation took place. The Germans seemed to enjoy watching us and the bugs. By the afternoon we managed to get some time for a nap, that is if the guards didn't come and tap on the bars. We were also allowed to have an exercise run in the square between the buildings with machine guns trained on us.
During the afternoon, we were allowed to smoke from cigarettes supplied by the parcels from the Quakers and the Red Cross. Usually, Tjitane and Gaulois, very heavy, real black tobacco. In the short time allowed some prisoners collapsed after taking a quick puff and inhaling.
Eventually, we found a way to snip the ends off, turn the cigarretes around, light it and take a few puffs under the surveillance of the guards. We would extinquish the lit end, put it in a tin and take the best butt end inside making a light when everything was quiet. We used what they called "Amadou", from coat padding and small flint stones.
One of the guards, who we called "Donald Duck", was a non-smoker. Donald Duck could usually smell the smoke from a long distance. He would follow the trail of smoke and then stand in front or our door quaking and looking like a duck. Nobody looked and sounded more like a duck than him. He never gave us away either, so no extra punishment was received.
Our guards were mostly old reservists pressed into doing their job. "Yup", another guard was always hearing things when nothing was there and vice versa. He helped himself to our food parcels and everything else that we possessed. The guards had access to our belongings and it was Yup who replaced my slashing knife with a dirty little pen knife"
To be continued ...
"
Önce downstairs, the main Gestapo agent gave a speech for the benefit of the inmates, brandishing his pistol and knocking on all the doors saying that he would have me shot in the morning.
Just in case he felt like shooting me now in his worked up frenzy I thought I had better be ready for any eventuality. With my back towards him, I opened the knife that was inbetween both of my hands and with a backwards movement could have slashed his throat but his three seconds hesitation to shoot me changed the situation. Maybe, now I could have grabbed his luger and started shooting getting the other prisoners out in the process. It was all in the hands of the gods!
Suddenly, he ordered his soldiers to throw me in the further cellar pushing the door open in his hysterical rage. This saved us all from further trouble for the time being. This is how I entered the cell, still fuming, teeth clenched firmly, chin forward. I heard the door clanging and closing behind me without further ado. The prisoners surrounded me and jumped back on seeing the knife. Daniel was there as well. Everybody had been aware of the escape and the turmoil it had caused. They said a woman had been shot in the erratic shooting and had been wounded in the arm.
Gently, they took the knife away from me and hid it. Now, with sympathetic understanding surrounding me my adrenalin started dissipating and a sense of feeling came rapidly back. Within a few moments I didn't know what to do with myself the reaction being so strong. I was given the only bunk on which to rest and relax.
After what I judged to be about an hour the pain subsided and the Germans said I had to get ready to leave. I just had time to tell Daniel to keep his mouth shut and that was the last I heard of him until the war ended. Later,
I heard that the knife was used by the prisoners to break out, this happened after Daniel had gone!
I was taken upstairs to the second floor and they put my arm in a sling giving me the V.I.P. treatment, disinfectant, ointment, bandages and all. They took me to the balcony window, showing me the height, laughing and saying you certainly won't jump again. Little did they know that I had jumped heights like that before. I was ready to do it again but they held me firmly and the sling was no help either.
Putting me in front of a typewriter and watching me they started the process of interrogation. What they wrote I had no idea but I guessed it to be the worst. Very likely to be treated as very dangerous. The only thing they asked me was why I tried to escape. Not to give anything away, I said morosely, "Because I was afraid and I didn't want to be shot".
Once a prisoner you couldn't tell them just anything! Anyway, it was better to be wise and use the point of least resistance. That same evening I was carted off on the first transport put together, Daniel was not in it! As a companion I had a giant Corporal who did not leave my side for a minute. That was a bad sign he even accompanied me to the toilet. I lost my chaperone when I got to Bordeaux but handcuffs were put on me instead. In fact, everybody was handcuffed and with two full vans we were transported though the town.
I attempted to wriggle out of the handcuffs, some people can, but it was to no avail. Maybe I could jump from the van but it proved to be impossible. Our journey ended at a place called "Caserne-Boudet", an annex of
Fort-Du-Ha. The place was overcrowded everybody was hitting back at the Boche. The awakening had taken place.
I was still convinced they were going to execute me. Maybe they had found out that I was the leader through Daniel. He couldn't tell them very much about my contacts as that was safe in my head. He could, however, inform them that we were heading to North Africa or England. I trusted him to keep silent as I would have done ...
To be continued ...
"The next three hundred metres I ran in record time and turning in from the far corner I saw a small German van swerving wildly. It was coming out on my right, hoping it was empty I turned swiftly around it and then acting nonchalantly, like a pedestrian passing by, I tried to jump in the rear to escape my pursuers altogether.
To my surprise, it was packed full with German soldiers holding on to their rifles, maybe called out for my capture! I knew I couldn't run too far now and turned into the street from which they had come. They were shouting and screaming at the driver behind me to stop. At this moment, the street looked long and empty making a perfect target for a hunted animal, me in this case.
That's the way I felt, like a hunted animal. My hand was still bleeding after rubbing it on my face to keep the hair out of my eyes. Otherwise, I could have jumped the portals. There was only one thing left to do, jump over the first fence, which was a privet I saw on the right, which I did and ran to the rear of the building entering the kitchen of this corner house.
Once in the house to the complete surprise of both of us, there was a housewife pressing her clothes on the ironing board. One can imagine our expressions! Only my presence of mind could save the situation now. So, speaking in French, "Les Boches me cherchent je veux me cache". Her instant panic was enough to tell me that it wasn't going to work as she dropped her iron and started screaming. I was done for where I stood!
Coming out faster than I had gone in I trusted my luck. I headed towards the wall of the next house climbing onto a coal box and leaning on my hand now, which was feeling very painful. I was in a small cul-de-sac and luckily for me a back door was open which I quickly entered still hearing that silly woman screaming which gave my whereabouts away and impeded my escape.
I never understood her attitude, unless she was struck by sudden shock and fear which she couldn't overcome. This situation proved to be part of the bad dream I had had in Belin Belier when I slept near the tomb stones and still my struggling was far from over. One against so many, this seemed to be the story of my destiny!
I was completely encircled now and upwards was the only way left to me as I climbed the stairs. Looking down from the first turn I could see their shadows
from a covered position in the women's garden. I had no weapon with me except my knife to fight. My only chance was the roof. I couldn't reach the gutter without being an open target as I would have to lean out and become visible. So, I tried the doors on the next landing. The doors were all closed and none of my hurling myself at the doors was of any help, far too strong for me.
This was a dead end for me; suddenly feeling very tired and helpless by the obstructions in my way, plus the loss of blood and all the commotion around me, I decided to go down, as a last resort, very indifferently. I was just sorry if my Mother were to hear that her son had been shot. I could still see her intense look when she said her good-byes as if to remember me for all time.
This was it now, decision without fear, descending calmly down the stairs and reaching the bottom. Wondering which way to go, the front or the rear.
I noticed a plain clothes Gestapo agent lurking at the back door which made up my mind. He had the door half open now and was slowly raising his luger and straightening the barrel.
I put my hands up in the air quickly, claiming to give up, but looking him right in the eyes now and I saw doubt and fear! Walking forward at the last moment I jumped on the door holding it and pushed the luger back upwards. He pulled and no shot came out of the weapon. The surmise was that there was no bullet in the chamber or that he had forgotten to release the safety catch on both occasions. At this moment, this was not for me to analyse!
Was it Russian roulette that had saved my life or divine intervention, my time had not yet come. The front door eventually gave way under the repeated battering of the Gestapo's rifle butts but nobody could shoot with me being in the middle. Before such a thing was contemplated, I was kicked into the street before the line up of soldiers whose rifles were pointed straight at me.
I found I was the centre of attention. The French people were everywhere behind the soldiers, jeering them and supporting me like their champion. I felt proud and patriotic. The Germans too were aware of it and I could feel their admiration. I was handed over to two uniformed Gestapo, grinning again, they were always doing that! They grabbed my arms and hands and tried to turn them on my back, which I resented as they hurt me pushing them far too high. The right hand, I managed to drag back and out with the strength that was left in it, it was my bleeding hand. I took the lapel of the Gestapo's coat and it got smeared with my blood. The French onlookers put their arms up and gave me a round of applause!
The Gestapo looked at his blood stained coat and swore at me more frustrated than ever now! That was the best recommendation I could get. I walked proudly back to the hotel, my hands free just like the general in Eben Emaille.
Once inside all hell broke loose and all the pent up feelings of these cruel people were released. They jumped on me with a sadistic and revengeful unison, thumping, beating and pushing me with about everything they could lay their hands on, from truncheons, belts with "God Mit Uns", on and sticks. The ones wearing coats were the worst of all keeping it up until they were completely out of breath.
I didn't fall down or lose consciousness but instead become senseless to it, every extra beat became very heavy for me. I was beyond pain, switched off.
Their amazement at that was higher than mine. I was just dazed and sullen, almost wondering what all the fuss was about......." They started telling me that they could have killed me and that they were such crack shots and that they had aimed at my hand, which seemed to me very clever considering I was a moving target! Also, I was congratulated on my bravery.
Short of awarding me the Iron Cross they then stopped their false flattery and were getting ready to carrying me off downstairs to the converted cells or dungeons......."
To be continued ...
"We were led to different rooms, our belongings taken away for inspection. They immediately started to interrogate us. After everybody had been questioned we had the privilege of being kept back. The Gestapo quickly rattled questions at us and I told him that we looked for work as the other job had finished. They checked through our pockets and even afterwards checked our naked bodies.
The Gestapo found a photo of my grandparents, parents and I, in front of our cafe in Ostend. Nothing special about that except it showed Pale Ale and Guiness Stout advertised in the windows. One Gestapo shouted, "that's English"". One of the other Gestapo interjected and said that some of the Flemish used to import their beers, which we did...
They then asked another seemingly innocent question after they found the schedule for the trains to St. Jean De Luze, which was another stop nearer the border... There his reasoning stopped abruptly..... I realized I had to leave now or never. There was nothing else left to do. I knew about the cruel torture methods once you were in their hands and the weakening of the spirit and the body with it, nobody knew! You had to make up your mind to resist beforehand.
I did not feel ready for that yet!
Looking around like a cornered animal I noticed a Gestapo man tired and dozing in the next room, which had access to a balcony where the double glass doors were open because of the midday heat. Daniel was just putting on this clothes and the other prisoners were being shuffled away to lower jails or cells.
This was my opportunity! I had a folded knife in my hand which had been overlooked during my search as it was held in my clenched fist when my hands were up. Daniel was nearly dressed so I shouted, "come quickly",he froze as usual! Far too slow with his guard holding him. I was off like an arrow from a bow, swift, light footed with my sandals on for fast running.
The dozing man never woke up as I passed him in my lightening run, which I had anticipated. Literally diving from the railings on the balcony, disregarding the drop from the first floor to the pavement, I put my hands on the balustrade to make a good jump which I had rehearsed a thousand times before.
Unfortunately, my foot must have dragged a bit because one of the straps on my sandal must have got caught. My foot touched the upper bar and I started turning in mid-air and coming with a thump down on the pavement. I landed on my behind and back, the impact of which gave me a slight concussion but luckily for me no broken bones, just a dent in my pride for the poor jump.
Within a few seconds I noticed the hulk of a grinning Gestapo man above me leaning over the balcony and struggling to get his pistol out of the holster and putting his finger on the trigger. To his complete amazement and mine nothing happened, the bullet was a dud!
I quickly got up and made for the first corner I could see to try to avoid the shooting which I knew would follow, running in a zig zag fashion to make it more difficult to take aim. So far so good! I escaped just the same, not the way I expected it but away! Just before taking the blind corner for cover the salvo's went off and one of them pierced my right hand entering through my wrist and coming out of the palm of my hand slightly touching my fingers, it felt like a heavy blow. The rest of the bullets flying around my ears which were deafening. I held my hand more by impulse than pain and turned the corner, blood was pouring which caused me to hurry more to be free of the firing ....."
To be continued ....
Typing that made me feel tense and sad for what my Dad suffered so I am stopping right here!
"
The train started moving, nobody got off and the Gestapo officer started going from compartment to compartment and when he saw us he shouted, "Don't Move!" and took our papers away from us. Soldiers were guarding the corridors all along the speeding train. We were trapped like a bunch of herded animals. I could have kicked myself. The Gestapo officer rushed to the rear of the train using the same tactics. I said to Daniel "Come with me into the corridor, never mind the papers and luggage", but he was so slow!
We chatted to a young soldier and he took us to be one of them. I then checked the next door from my position to where Daniel stood talking and made a sign for him to come over. I already had the handle in my hand but Daniel was too slow! I was just about to utter the word, "jump"", when all of a sudden a Gestapo came in, Luger in hand, pointed at us and harshly told the soldier off and shouting at us, "what in the hell do you think you are doing up there"?
Too late now we had lost our chance, we were pushed into the compartment again and within a few minutes another victim was pushed around by the Gestapo officer's helpers and came into our compartment. This woman turned out to be the real prey they were after, we were just extra fish caught in the dragnet. Now I wondered whether he recognized us from before!
About fifteen of us were caught, that is a considerable haul, I think. From then on the Gestapo man got very pompous and busy. Chiefly, interrogating the woman and concentrating on her. She was still young but not a teenager either. I never got her name, it wouldn't have been real anyway. According to our Gestapo man she turned out to be an agent or a spy. Looking at her intently and then back to us he said, "it is because of people like you that these boys are going to be shot, now"!
Well, on this there was no doubt whatsoever about our fate. I had had enough of Daniel dragging his feet and it was now everbody for himself, now to make the best of it and to get away when the first opportunity arose.
The trip to Biarritz was very sombre if not depressing; the sun was shining, the shimmering haze clearing up over the countryside making it even brighter. No concerted attempt was made to escape by those individuals left to their own thoughts as he disappeared from our compartment to others. Obviously he had other victims who were just as important.
It was a pity because it had to be done now as it was probably the best moment to escape while were were still fit. I thought we could jump the guards and gestapo and in the confusion roll off the train into the isolated countryside - using the free ride to get closer to our destination. The massacre would be ugly but what were the odds! Each individual had their own knowledge of what awaited them as well as torture and afterwards execution. In this way we reached Biarritz junction and I had just seen a glimmer of sunlight reflecting on what looked like a small yacht harbour or bay full of white painted boats whose brilliance caused me to shade my eyes.
I knew the Gestapo in the occupied zones were stretched to breaking point so I had to quickly look for an opportunity. I had previously heard of patriots being caught in the fields being made to dig their own graves before being shot. This thought made me even more determined. As the train came to a stop we were herded off and lined up in the hall under the scrutiny and watchful eyes of the guards, rifles at the ready.
There were people behind the guards and I noticed an elderly woman wearing sunglasses that nodded as she made a recognition amongst us. We were marched off now and I saw more of the bay to my right which I tried to memorise. I made up my mind that this would be the place to make a get-a-way. I would dive into the water and swim just below the surface and advance under water to just the other side of the boats. I had trained for that and liked it. I would have to get rid of my clothes under water as they would become heavy. If they were shooting the bullets would be ricocheting on the surface and they would think after a while that I had drowned.
Afterwards I found out that there was no water behind the quay at all, just soft mud, which I couldn't see from where I was walking, nothing but quagmire and very smelly mud with rocks scattered here and there around.
That would have been the end of the road for me
So in a little while we arrived at the hotel, their centre for all operations in the region. It was quite a famous hotel because of King Edward the Seventh holidaying there and that was it's name. Now it was the Gestapo's headquarters.
I looked very intently around before entering to assess the situation ..."
To be continued ....
