Augie

It was the middle of July in 1944 when the men were summoned in groups for preparation of a sojourn outside the camp. None of the POWs knew what it was about, but they lined up dutifully at the far corner at the camp entrance. The airmen marched out of the camp and onto a dusty road. Locals watched and wondered what was going on as the men cascaded towards the train yard in Heydekrug, and were eventually packed aboard rail cars. The camp exodus wasn’t conducted all at once, but rather in waves. Fifty men were jammed into each box car, and the train slowly advanced towards the port city of Memel. To Augie’s dismay the five hour train ride ended near a shipyard and the men were herded onto an old vessel. The twilight of the early evening disappeared in an instant as the men were swallowed by the pitch-black darkness they encountered with each ladder rung as they descended below deck of an old barge. Although it was impossible to see anything, the low grumbling of voices gave the sense that there was a sea of men sitting below. As he neared the base of the ladder Augie’s eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. He scanned the large open hull of the ship and was shocked to discover that there were hundreds of men packed onto the base of the ship like sardines. From a distance, a familiar voice shouted out. “Hey Don, you’ve had it!” This evacuation in July of 1944, which became known as the “Heydekrug Run,” loaded more than 1000 men into the bowels of two broken down Russian coal steamers named the “Isteburg” and the “Masuren.” The ships were to cross the Baltic Sea, a voyage trip that would take three full days. The Belorussian offensive which had coincidentally forced the evacuation of Stalag Luft VI was codenamed Operation Bagration. Four Soviet army groups of 120 divisions composed of some 2.3 million troops plowed into the line, and over-powered the Germans who had less than half as many men. As a matter of necessity, the Germans had sent some units to France to counter the invasion of Normandy, and were outmatched by a ratio of nearly 10 to 1 in tanks and aircraft. By early July, the Germans had lost more than a half-million soldiers. As the minutes ticked by in slow motion, Augie felt that he had completely lost control over his destiny. He was hunkered down deep within the confines of a decrepit ship, in what seemed like deadly game of Russian roulette. If an Allied bomber decided that the ship was an appropriate target, it was entirely feasible that it would be sunk. The Russian Hammer and Cycle graced the side of the ship, but there was no guarantee that a night bomber crew would even discern or trust the emblem from the sky. It was in enemy waters, and therefore would be a legitimate target. There was also the additional substantial threat of mines, which were routinely dropped into the Baltic by British bomber crews with the intent of disturbing German shipping.