EXCERPTS of the Second World War diary of Bradford soldier George Castel, who served in North Africa with the Royal Army Service Corps until captured in 1942, have been sent to the T&A by his grandson Mark Townsend.

Mark, who was born and brought up in Bradford, went to the United States in 1984 and has lived there ever since; but he has not forgotten his Bradford roots, nor the story of his grandfather, a Scot from Inverness who came to Bradford in 1921 looking for work.

In 1929 George Castel and Alice Maude Pickles married in Bradford and had a daughter, Doreen - Mark's mum. They remained married for 46 years until George's death in 1975.

Home For Autumn is the title Mark has given to his grandfather's memoirs, which can be found in full on https://grangeboys40.wordpress.com2014/12/26home-by-autumn-the-four-year-journey-of-pow-george-castel/.

Tobruk, June 1942:

"We had it published on orders two days previously that Tobruk may become a garrison town again, and we would be called upon to defend it.

This we were prepared to do until we found that nearly every gun on the regular Ack-Ack defence (anti-aircraft guns) had gone back with the rest. Saturday morning, June 20, we woke up to the whistle of shells and bombs exploding, and we knew it was the beginning of the end.

We were shelled and dive-bombed all day, what little Ack-Ack fire there was made little difference as the Stukas (Nazi dive-bombers) came over in waves and literally dived and obliterated them.

During Saturday afternoon, we had to leave our billets, or go up with them, and withdraw nearer the town. We parked up in a wadi (a valley or dry river bed) about 4 pm, doing our best with our rifles until we were spotted.

Then, it was merry hell with dive bombing and tanks gunning, firing explosive and anti-personnel shells. It was worse than any of us had experienced before, and we did our best, though we hadn't much success I'm afraid.

But somehow, by God's will if you like, we just managed to make it to the beach. Several of our lorries were hit and had to be left in the wadi where they were fired on and left blazing.

The old crock I had gave up the ghost when we were nearly out of the little hell, but it was too steep and she just conked out. I was glad enough to fire the petrol tank and jump on one of the last of our lorries to get out.

We had certainly been left in the shit with nothing but rifles to defend ourselves against tanks, artillery, fighters and bombers. We spent a miserable 24 hours on the beach until about 4 pm on Sunday, June 21, when the white flag went up, and Jerry advanced to take us prisoner.

The colonel who took command on the beach explained we could fight on, which would mean annihilation. But after a conference with the other officers, it was deemed best to surrender. It's still questionable who let us down – the British Command or the South Africans. I wonder?

Finished up last night with several hundred other prisoners penned in near Tobruk cemetery. While there, everyone suffered from thirst owing to some of our people blowing up the water points. Jerry certainly did his best for us till they got the water through again.

Fortunately we had a little grub and a few fags in hand. As regards our personal kit, most of us lost everything we had and finished up here sleeping six between two blankets.

"Left Tobruk loaded in lorries and trailers on Tuesday evening and proceeded toward Derna. Nothing to eat and the only water we could get was salty and came with dung mixed in with it. The following morning we were issued with two biscuits per man, most which were sour, and a tin of Iti (Italian) bully (tinned corned beef) between two.

Moved on again on Thursday morning to Derna. Here they had turned an old graveyard into a prison pen. We were absolutely ravenous by this time and fountain pens, wallets, rings and watches went over the wire for old bread or biscuits.

We had a bad time of it here as both food and water were held from us. Near riot and massacre here on Sunday as some brave Italian officers came round to photograph us. Most of us gave the V-sign, which annoyed them very much, whereupon one of the guards fired his rifle and shot a South African soldier right through the head.

We were glad to get loaded on lorries and move on from Derna as we were told there was a properly organized POW camp at Benghazi. As we left, we were issued with two biscuits per man and one small tin of Iti horse meat between two.

We arrived about 10pm at the so-called organized camp. Several men went down with attacks of dysentery here, including myself, which I think was due to rotten Italian bully as much as semi-starvation we were all suffering from. I got so bad with dysentery I thought it was up for me when I was taken to the hospital.

After five days of nothing but salts and liquidsI had to return to camp a half-fit skeleton to make room for more serious cases.

Brindisi, Xmas 1942:

"In the late afternoon came the Red Cross gift. Three English Xmas parcels and one Canadian between four men. It was a pathetic sight really to see grown men diving into parcels, more excited than a kid with its stocking on Xmas morning.

Xmas parcel:-

1lb tin of Xmas pudding

1/4lb of chocolate

small tin of sweets

1/2lb of butter

Small tin of cheese spread

Tablet of soap

1lb tin of steak and tomato pudding

Tin of steak and macaroni

3oz of sugar

2oz of tea

Small tin of Nestles milk

1/2lb of chocolate biscuits

1lb cake

We went to bed to dream of home or, as in most cases, lie awake thinking and promising ourselves the next one would be in Blighty with those we love.

1943:

"We are completing our first year of POW life. Twelve months since we were taken and all our hopes and dreams shattered. Everyone is confident we will be free before many more weeks.

All around the camp was Jerry with machine guns and Tommy guns (hand-held sub-machine guns) trained on the camp. Jerry just closed in and took away all the Iti guards and replaced them with his own men. We got a laugh later in the day as it turned out, when Jerry disarmed all the Ities and put them behind the wire in a new compound.

There have been several attempts at escape, but it isn’t much use as it’s usually a quick return followed by a tune on one of the guard’s Tommy guns. Jerry has made his mind up to move us … train moved out at 2 pm [and] after about 52 hours travelling, coming, as far as we knew, through Northern Italy, right through Austria and halfway across Germany.

We have moved to what we all hope will be our permanent working camp. We are in Halle, in the grounds of the foundry where we work. Our working hours are from 6.30am-5.30pm, with a break at from 8.30am-9am and lunch from Noon-12.30pm. We have Saturday afternoon and Sunday off.

1944:

"Big Ginger Fawcett was at loggerheads with the under officer over various matters and we knew the officer was scared of him. The corporal came and asked me to go up to the billet with him as he had been told Ginger had been shot.

We were all put together in one workshop and told that if there was any more trouble, he had to shoot the lot of us.

The Jerries we work with have just about given up the thought of winning the war now. They tell us that it’s impossible to stop the Russians no matter how many they slaughter, and they are terrified as to what will happen to them when the Ruskies (Russian Red Army soldiers) get here.

February 7 brought my first mail since Italy. My God, what a relief it was to know your were all well and had heard from me. I do not think it can be much longer. Still everyone hoping it will be Blighty by Autumn for us."