On three separate occasions Dad was nearly killed by incidents of euphemistically named 'friendly fire'.
It has to be one of the biggest ironies of warfare to be attacked and possibly killed by forces from your own side even more so whilst experiencing this as a captive in the not so safe arms of the enemy.
After capture in the desert and a brief but very uncomfortable stay in a holding camp in Tripoli I guess that it might have been some kind of relief to POWs like my Dad to get away from the desperate conditions at Tripoli ( see PAGE 3 ) to Italy with some expectation that camp conditions would be an improvement there.
The ship they were loaded into was an old cargo ship the SS Ariosto which was already partially loaded with scrap metal, cynical symbolism for the way the prisoners themselves were regarded, mere scrap, battle remnants to be processed.
The ship sailed on the 13th ( a Friday, how ironic) of February 1942 ,sailing under cover of dark to minimise the risk of attack from allied forces.
Unfortunately for my father a British submarine P38 was on patrol keeping an eye out for targets amongst the frequent convoys between Sicily and Africa bringing supplies to the Italian and German troops, returning, as in my father's case, with scrap metal from the conflict and prisoners.
The submarine would not have known set the ship they were about to target had Allied Prisoners of War in the hold.
According to my father's diary the torpedo struck on Feb 14th at 11:35 p.m it's impossible for me to imagine the horror of what then occurred they would presumably have been casualties directly from the explosion and damage to the ship. The prisoners were effectively sealed in a dark metal box left to deal with the situation themselves. Amazingly Dad refers to there being no panic.
On getting out of the hold he discovered the Italians had abandoned the ship leaving only wrecked lifeboats. The ship was sinking and no doubt decisions had to be made quickly with no favourable choice likely to be presenting itself, sink with the ship or jump overboard and swim for it hoping that in the darkness you'll be found and rescued.
Dad took to the water and being a good swimmer managed to keep going long enough to be picked up by an Italian destroyer. Considering the physical and mental state he would have been in after the recent battle, capture and ill treatment in Tripoli it's a miracle that he managed to do so.
A happy childhood memory is of going swimming with Dad at the local open air swimming baths as he was quite keen for us to learn to swim.
It never occurred to me that it might have been more than just normal parental enthusiasm to insure a basic life skill is gained by their children or that as he was swimming in the pool memories may well have been coming into his mind of a far away place and a muchmore harrowing scene than the sunlit Surrey swimming pool we were splashing around in.
This was not the only instance in the Mediterranean of ships carrying POWs that were sunk or attacked by friendly forces.
I'm indebted to the late Brian Sims and his work researching recording and seeking due recognition for these losses.
A sad postscript to the story is that the British submarine P38 was itself attacked and sunk before completing the patrol it was on.
​
The second attack that nearly killed my father has only a brief mention in his diary it was at Colleferro a suburb of Rome when after having been recaptured after his period of Escape they were attacked by American bombers engaged in the tortuously slow moving Italian campaign. He mentioned another brief attempt to escape during the raid so may well have welcomed it as providing a diversion keeping the guard's minds on surviving the raid rather than watching the prisoners.
The third mentioned attack which nearly did for my father is recorded in the diary as follows
'At Brunswick on the 24th of August 1944 10 hi explosive 1,000 lb bombs ,110 anti-personnel and innumerable incendiaries were dropped on the camp by the US Air Corps, three officers were killed 15 severely injured and many minor wounds'
​
Grim as it may have been it the raids were also referenced in the diary with a couple of humorous cartoons copied here
One can imagine a bitter sweet feeling towards the raids with the hope they gave of the approaching allies and long awaited freedom, set against the fear of being killed in the last phase of the war having spent so much time in captivity.
Following this raid the heating and hot water system in the camp was out of action for months.
No fun with the very harsh winter of 44/45 on it's way.
