1945 Long March diary extracts

Here are some edited extracts:

MON, JAN 22: Amidst jocular ribaldry from the fellows staying in camp we marched through the gates at 3pm, blocks 5, 4, 3, 2. The sick of these blocks were left in camps. Everyone was quite cheerful, but apprehensive. Our first troubles were slipping & sliding over the ice. I almost fell many times but during the whole march never hit the deck once. Onward we raced, the sound of Russian guns in the distance.

WED JAN 24th: Last night was ghastly. We slept on hard rocks in an open shed. It was bitterly cold & the draught came up through the stones whistling through my ribs. Our blankets were wet through & I was shivering all night. I thought at the time that if it went on much longer like that I should have either pneumonia or rheumatic fever. When I tried to get my boots on they were frozen absolutely solid.

THURS JAN 25: I now became obsessed with the dread of frostbite & lice. My toes were still numb, no feeling at all, & remained so the whole march, but fortunately it wasn't frostbite.

SUN JAN 28: We heard rumours that 7 block IV men have died & 2 RAF lads.

MON JAN 29: We ploughed and shuffled through deep snow in a blinding blizzard & bitter cold. I am sure that if any man had fallen in the march, he was a dead man.

WED JAN 31: The civvies are still with us & constitute a great nuisance to our walking. Whilst we were having a 10 minutes rest some women evacuees passed us singing "It's a Long Way to Tipperary." This is terribly true!

SUN FEB 4th: My general conclusions about the march are these. I tried hard to take my mind off the discomfort by thinking of various things, mainly HOME. My thoughts were constantly with Mum, Dad, Rene, & Rover. Always there. Mum would cry her eyes out if she only saw us. I plotted & planned my future career, which I think will now definitely be farming. Oh for those home comforts.

WED FEB 7: I am amazed at the depth of gloom some of the lads have let themselves slide into. In my opinion this is idiotic for I believe when a man loses his sense of humour he loses all. Life is only what we make of it no matter where we be & it is up to every man to make the best of a bad job.

MARCH 8th THUR: And now beg me the tale of woe. Since my last entry I have been through what I now realise to be the most critical period of my life. I have been quite near death. I was diagnosed as having Influenza & Dysentery.

We did the 25km to the hospital. The Huns did make an effort to give us rations but altho' we had our bread, soups & coffee they were still grossly inadequate. I was disgusted with the attitude of our block leader & column leader and waves of passionate anger went through me when I saw (we've removed the name) etc in a cart of their own whilst the sick had to trudge along in misery.

A conclusion I have reached is this. MAN is little removed from an animal when he comes to real survival. It is the old animal story of the survival of the fittest.

I was disgusted & amazed at the display of pettiness, dishonesty, theft, meanness, selfishness, & complete animal callousness that was so often displayed. Rations stolen, trivial arguments, general lack of esprit de corps. It was mainly, I am glad to say, amongst the lesser educated members of the crowd, but nonetheless still existed amongst the so-called educated class.

I sometimes felt ashamed of being an Englishman.