Robert Reeves

Robert Reeves was a World War II soldier who spent 224 days as a German prisoner of war. His account of his ordeal led to the book “Peoria to Munich – A Prisoner of War” and is also excerpted in the book “Chicken Soup for the Veteran’s Soul.” Bob passed away in 2009 at the age of 85. What follows is an account of his experiences as a POW, as covered in the October 2002 issue of the Washington Historical Society Newsletter “Washington Heritage Herald”, written by Joyce Nordhielm.

Stalag VII-A was not a pretty sight. Two twelve-foot walls, separated by coils of barbed wire made escape an impossible dream. The area just inside the main gate called sonder-baracke housed POWs who had escaped and been recaptured. The prisoners pressed against the barbed wire begging us for scraps of food. When we tossed what we had to them, the guards came over and stomped the dry bread into dust.

The camp was huge, housing over 111,000 prisoners at one time. The barracks were less than attractive. There were dirty rafters and supports above us and rough timbers made up the floors. Bunks were three high with slats holding up straw-filled, bug-infested gunny sacks for mattresses. There was no electricity, no running water, and no heating. An old cooking range, provided by the Germans was of little use considering the lack of food and wood.

The only light available was made by dropping bits of carbide into a container of water. Gas would be emitted which would burn for about an hour. An outside faucet was our only source of water. Shaving utensils and products had to be checked out and returned quickly. While we had no way to heat water, we were served something called ‘coffee’ which we used to shave with. It has hot.

Personal hygiene was almost nonexistent. Bob remembers having two showers in his months of captivity. The latrine had rows of 12” field tile placed upright into the cement floor. Many of them would crack and break off leaving ragged edges. If the sewage was not pumped out regularly, it would back up and cover the floor. Dental hygiene was another story. After seven months without brushing teeth, Robert’s friend, Milt Moore, was able to barter cigarettes for two wooden-handled, crude-bristled tooth brushes. Tooth powder was part of the deal, but they were sure it came out of a foot powder can.

Meals were a challenge. Coffee for breakfast that was used for shaving. Soup was served for lunch. It was watery, tasteless and surprisingly free of potatoes. Supper consisted of a one-inch thick piece of hard brown bread and an unskinned boiled potato. Meat showed up once a week in the form of a thick slice of bologna about two inches in diameter.

When Robert sent any letters to his family in the States and they were received, many letters and packages sent to him from the States were not received. The letters were returned to the senders and the parcels disappeared. However, being close to the International Red Cross headquarters in Switzerland was a blessing in that this camp was first on its supply route. Six of us shared a full parcel which consisted of coffee, cheese, and powdered milk, a chocolate bar and cigarettes. The cigarettes were used for bartering if one did not smoke.

The international climate of our segregated camp allowed us to use simple forms of sign language to discover truths about each other’s culture. There were Russians, Indians (from India), English, and Canadian. Then there were the political prisoners housed near Munich – those who were special enemies of Hitler’s Germany and who had come out of what we know to be the Holocaust. While the POWs were on work details these prisoners would beg the POWs for food, but the guards would never allow that to happen.

A work day meant rising at 5:00 am and standing in lines of five for roll call which might take hours as the German guards were not very punctual. It would be especially involved if someone was missing and they had to take inventory until the missing was found and punished. Fifty POWs with five guards would climb into one boxcar, with the guards on a bench across the open double doors. The POWs stood if there was not enough room to sit on the floor.

Most of the labor they were forced to do occurred in Munich or nearby Landshut and it usually consisted of building or repairing railroad lines. On one occasion, however, the POWs were ordered to clear a bombed-out building which had taken a direct hit by our Air Force. They had to carry out many dead and disfigured bodies of civilians.

One advantage to these work details was the chance to barter cigarettes with German citizens or black marketers for bread. Before that transaction took place, however, we had to bribe the guards with cigarettes to allow it to happen. On one of these work details Bob had a heart wrenching experience with a father of a son who was in a POW camp in the state of Georgia, USA. This story was told in the book, “Chicken Soup for the Veteran’s Soul.’

Robert also had an experience with a German guard who asked if anyone was from Peoria, Illinois. The guard had lived in Peoria some years before and was simply caught when he went back to Germany to straighten out some business.

World news came through the German filter which was designed to demoralize the POW. The first time Robert ever heard the word ‘Jets” he was told it was a German secret weapon when in reality the US jets were decimating the German Air Force. The day’s news was always translated into “German Victory’ stories.

By late March 1945, the overcrowding in the camp was so bad, Robert’s group was actually squeezed out of camp. They lived in boxcars on a siding in Munich for over a month.

And then one night at about 10:00 they heard the guards as they unlocked the boxcar doors and then disappeared. They raced to the nearby air raid shelter and bolted the door. The absence of bombing was frightening – but they waited until dawn. In the light of day, they cautiously spread out from the shelter in search of the rumbling sound of vehicles. As this group of battle-worn, dirty, hungry POWs crested the ridge their eyes caught sight of American tanks, topped with our GIs casually leaning against the turrets. Munich had fallen to the United States military and the American flag was flying high. And they were POWs no more!