Congratulations !
You have been awarded points.
Thank you for !
- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Love stories / Romance
- Subject: Character Based
- Published: 08/20/2020
Camp 186
Born 1948, F, from Epping. Essex, United Kingdom.jpeg)
Prisoner of War Camp 186
Berechurch, Nr Colchester, Essex
By Kristin Dockar
Harold never imagined he would find love at Berechurch Prisoner of War (POW) camp, but in the Autumn of 1944, he met Kurt. They had been taken there after capture by British troops during the D Day landings. After the terror of battle and then capture, being a prisoner in rural Essex was not so terrible. Both were extremely anxious about their fate but also had a profound sense of relief. Their war was over.
Kurt was 24 years old. He was not a tall man, but he walked with confidence. Harold met Kurt when they were sent to work on a local farm. They worked together picking apples and pears in the nearby farm orchard, and then they were moved into the same Nissan hut. It was a shared joke about the living conditions that started a proper conversation but they both admitted that anything was better than being on the battlefield.
As they worked on the farm they talked about life before the war and learnt that they had a shared creativity, which led to them being involved in producing the camp magazine, Querschnitt.
Kurt had been a reporter for a local newspaper in his hometown of Hannover, and Harold had worked in a printing press. The camp had acquired a hand me down typewriter from the War Office. Several of the prisoners painted pictures of camp life, and others produced wood cuts. The distribution of Querschnitt was something to be looked forward to in the dull, drab routine of prisoner of war life.
As they finished up the day’s work, Harold looked at the young man whose blonde hair was beginning to thin but whose grey blue eyes were beautiful. His accent was difficult to understand but he was trying hard to learn English.
He looked clean, but he would tell you that it was nearly impossible to be truly clean in this camp. His clothes were threadbare with many darned patches around the elbows of his jacket.
It was Friday, and they looked forward to some sort of respite over the weekend, at least a bit of a break in the weekly routine. They walked slowly back to the camp together, conscious all the time of the armed soldiers guarding them.
The air in the hut was stale with a smell of sweat and bleach. The smells mingled to create an atmosphere of bleakness. The windows were nailed shut which had caused protests in the hot Summer weather. Kurt had wondered what it would be like in the Winter. They were locked in by the camp guards at night.
For once the room was empty and still. The other prisoners were out playing football. Shadows crept across the floor and as Harold’s gaze swept around the room, he became acutely conscious of Kurt running his hand over the rough walls and wondered why he was doing that. But it also made him want to touch Kurt.
Kurt’s gaze stilled and he looked out of the open hut door across to the fields beyond the double perimeter fence. If you had to be a prisoner of war, there were worse places you could end up in. Berechurch Hall, where the camp was based, was in a village and reminded him a little of his home in the Deister near Hannover.
The two men began to chat about their war experiences and how they were captured on D Day and transported to England. Both had been conscripted into the German Army. Kurt told Harold that he was a Pacifist but had been made to work in the ambulance service rescuing soldiers from the battle fields. He told Harold that he had nightmares from the things he had witnessed.
Harold said that he had been a gunner and that he was a committed Nazi until he had seen for himself what happened if you were Jewish in Germany.
As they talked, Harold’s gaze fixed on Kurt’s mouth. He noticed the full lips, and the slight pout, which was almost feminine looking. He knew himself to be strongly attracted. Kurt raised his eyes to look at Harold. He looked right into his eyes and noticed his long lashes. He felt himself moved, not aroused, just moved. It was the first time he had connected with another human being since being taken prisoner.
Kurt walked to the hut door and lit a cigarette. He looked out into the evening light and shivered slightly. In a world where every day was filled with harshness, and an undercurrent of violence, it was so unexpected to feel this way.
Harold came and stood in the doorway, and Kurt offered him a cigarette. Because Harold was much taller than Kurt he had to bend down as Kurt struck a match to light it. Their faces were close together as Harold inhaled.
Kurt looked up at Harold and said, ‘Where can we go?’
Harold answered, ‘Wait until later tonight’.
Gradually the evening ended, and the other prisoners came in to get ready to sleep. The start of each day was early, just before dawn, and sleep among the prisoners was almost instant.
Harold lay in his bed and waited until he was sure all the other prisoners were asleep. He looked over to Kurt’s bed and quietly crossed the floor. He heard a muffled sound and looking down saw that Kurt was deeply asleep but that he was crying in his sleep. It was probably then that Harold fell in love. He watched as Kurt cried. Smoothing the tears from the young man’s face, he turned and went back to his bed.
Perhaps it was better this way.
Camp 186(Kristin Dockar)
Prisoner of War Camp 186
Berechurch, Nr Colchester, Essex
By Kristin Dockar
Harold never imagined he would find love at Berechurch Prisoner of War (POW) camp, but in the Autumn of 1944, he met Kurt. They had been taken there after capture by British troops during the D Day landings. After the terror of battle and then capture, being a prisoner in rural Essex was not so terrible. Both were extremely anxious about their fate but also had a profound sense of relief. Their war was over.
Kurt was 24 years old. He was not a tall man, but he walked with confidence. Harold met Kurt when they were sent to work on a local farm. They worked together picking apples and pears in the nearby farm orchard, and then they were moved into the same Nissan hut. It was a shared joke about the living conditions that started a proper conversation but they both admitted that anything was better than being on the battlefield.
As they worked on the farm they talked about life before the war and learnt that they had a shared creativity, which led to them being involved in producing the camp magazine, Querschnitt.
Kurt had been a reporter for a local newspaper in his hometown of Hannover, and Harold had worked in a printing press. The camp had acquired a hand me down typewriter from the War Office. Several of the prisoners painted pictures of camp life, and others produced wood cuts. The distribution of Querschnitt was something to be looked forward to in the dull, drab routine of prisoner of war life.
As they finished up the day’s work, Harold looked at the young man whose blonde hair was beginning to thin but whose grey blue eyes were beautiful. His accent was difficult to understand but he was trying hard to learn English.
He looked clean, but he would tell you that it was nearly impossible to be truly clean in this camp. His clothes were threadbare with many darned patches around the elbows of his jacket.
It was Friday, and they looked forward to some sort of respite over the weekend, at least a bit of a break in the weekly routine. They walked slowly back to the camp together, conscious all the time of the armed soldiers guarding them.
The air in the hut was stale with a smell of sweat and bleach. The smells mingled to create an atmosphere of bleakness. The windows were nailed shut which had caused protests in the hot Summer weather. Kurt had wondered what it would be like in the Winter. They were locked in by the camp guards at night.
For once the room was empty and still. The other prisoners were out playing football. Shadows crept across the floor and as Harold’s gaze swept around the room, he became acutely conscious of Kurt running his hand over the rough walls and wondered why he was doing that. But it also made him want to touch Kurt.
Kurt’s gaze stilled and he looked out of the open hut door across to the fields beyond the double perimeter fence. If you had to be a prisoner of war, there were worse places you could end up in. Berechurch Hall, where the camp was based, was in a village and reminded him a little of his home in the Deister near Hannover.
The two men began to chat about their war experiences and how they were captured on D Day and transported to England. Both had been conscripted into the German Army. Kurt told Harold that he was a Pacifist but had been made to work in the ambulance service rescuing soldiers from the battle fields. He told Harold that he had nightmares from the things he had witnessed.
Harold said that he had been a gunner and that he was a committed Nazi until he had seen for himself what happened if you were Jewish in Germany.
As they talked, Harold’s gaze fixed on Kurt’s mouth. He noticed the full lips, and the slight pout, which was almost feminine looking. He knew himself to be strongly attracted. Kurt raised his eyes to look at Harold. He looked right into his eyes and noticed his long lashes. He felt himself moved, not aroused, just moved. It was the first time he had connected with another human being since being taken prisoner.
Kurt walked to the hut door and lit a cigarette. He looked out into the evening light and shivered slightly. In a world where every day was filled with harshness, and an undercurrent of violence, it was so unexpected to feel this way.
Harold came and stood in the doorway, and Kurt offered him a cigarette. Because Harold was much taller than Kurt he had to bend down as Kurt struck a match to light it. Their faces were close together as Harold inhaled.
Kurt looked up at Harold and said, ‘Where can we go?’
Harold answered, ‘Wait until later tonight’.
Gradually the evening ended, and the other prisoners came in to get ready to sleep. The start of each day was early, just before dawn, and sleep among the prisoners was almost instant.
Harold lay in his bed and waited until he was sure all the other prisoners were asleep. He looked over to Kurt’s bed and quietly crossed the floor. He heard a muffled sound and looking down saw that Kurt was deeply asleep but that he was crying in his sleep. It was probably then that Harold fell in love. He watched as Kurt cried. Smoothing the tears from the young man’s face, he turned and went back to his bed.
Perhaps it was better this way.
- Share this story on
- 9
.jpeg)
Help Us Understand What's Happening
.jpeg)
Kristin Dockar
08/25/2020Really glad you enjoyed it Gail.
I'm wondering whether to write 'Part 2'!!
Help Us Understand What's Happening
.jpeg)
Help Us Understand What's Happening
.png)
JC
08/20/2020This is the first story I've read on this website and it was really sweet. What an interesting setting for a romance!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
.jpeg)
Kristin Dockar
08/21/2020Thank you for reading it. It was interesting finding out about the POW camp and that there are accounts of same sex relationships occurring at the camp. My 16 year old grandson has just read!!
Help Us Understand What's Happening
.jpeg)
Agata
08/20/2020Guau!, this story is incredible, very incredible, the story is very real and the feeling of the characters is very real too, Congratulations! : )
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
.jpeg)
Help Us Understand What's Happening
.jpeg)
Kristin Dockar
08/20/2020Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it. It was fascinating researching this as the camp is quite near to where i live and I had no idea about it.
COMMENTS (5)