IN ENEMY HANDS
Karen Horm
Jonathan Ball publishers
REVIEW: Justin Fox
On November 23, 1941, the poet Uys Krige was standing outside the South African headquarters at Sidi Rezegh, Libya, eating from a tin of golden Boland peaches. Just then, German shells began raining down on their exposed position. As a war correspondent, he’d wanted to be near the action, but this was too close for comfort.
Uys discarded the peaches and dived into a slit trench as machine-gun rounds peppered the sand around him. When he eventually poked his head above ground, he was surrounded by German Mark IV tanks. “ Heraus! Hands up!”shouted a German soldier.
And so began two years as a prisoner of war, first in North Africa and then in Italy. My Uncle Uys’s experience, told to me 40 years later on his stoep in Onrus, was shared by thousands of young South Africans.
Although countless books on World War II have been written, the complete story of these soldiers’ war behind barbed wire has never been told.
In fact, there are relatively few publications on South Africa’s role in a war that had such an important impact on how we live today.
Stellenbosch historian Karen Horn sets out to fill this gap in her book In Enemy Hands. During her exhaustive research, she managed to track down a number of former POWs. Personal letters, archival documents, memoirs and interviews reveal the diverse narratives of their captivity. These are tales of fear, endurance, humour, opportunism and self-discovery.
The book traces their stories of the great battles of North Africa, especially the fall of Tobruk, then captivity and internment in North Africa, transfer to Italy, incarceration in German-occupied territories and finally, for some, death marches to evade the approaching Russian army.
Instead of fighting, these men were involved in another kind of war. It was a fight against hunger, sickness, deprivation and despair. On average, men lost between 20 and 30 kilogrammes, and food became an obsession. As one POW comments, “sex is way down the list (of basic needs) and seldom discussed by hungry men”.
During Horn’s interviews, the POWs expressed surprise at being asked to share their stories. Almost all of them claimed not to have been heroes at all, just doing their bit.
This is not surprising, given that back in South Africa many Nationalists had been pro-Nazi, and when they came to power in 1948, tried to erase South Africa’s World War II history.
“The result was that the contribution these men had made were ignored and their stories never told,” says Horn.
Horn’s account considers interesting aspects of camp life, such as army apartheid and how, in many instances, it evaporated during incarceration; romances with female prisoners and even German civilians! Also, Commonwealth cricket and rugby matches, and the often friendly relationships with guards provide fascinating insight into life as a POW.
Some camps produced daily newspapers and even put on elaborate amateur dramatic productions.
Spies, secret radios and escape attempts add colour to the narrative.
Horn recounts how the return home was also fraught with alienation, depression and guilt, compounded by a government that rejected their sacrifices. Many POWs suffered from what became known as “barbed-wire disease”.
For returning black POWs, the welcome home was even more icy. Telling the story of these brave men now, while some are still alive, is thus all the more important.
At times, the book delves into too much detail. But for the most part, it’s a humane, compelling account of a traumatic period in the lives of thousands of South Africans.