POW: Putnam native survived atrocities of Nazi Germany
By April Curtis
Survivor Bert Squires has a lucky star.
That may be the only explanation of how an 18-year-old kid from Putnam County, made his way through some of the worst battles in World War II, ended up a prisoner of war in Nazi Germany and yet came home to his family and fiancée -- who at times thought he was dead. His capture and confinement by German soldiers resulted in him being listed as missing in action for more than a year.
Squires, now 80 and recovering from a stroke, still has strong memories almost 60 years later of the world at war. They prompt bursts of emotion, especially when speaking of his twin brother, Bruce, from whom he was separated when they entered the Army together.
Bert participated in the landing at Normandy on D-Day, June 6, 1944.
"We made the beachhead," Squires said. "Bullets were razing everything."
The scene that day was "terrible," with blood in the water and men falling everywhere, according to Squires.
Remembering his first combat experience, Squires said it was more than what was planned for.
"I didn't know what I was getting into," he said, "but I soon found out." Squires was captured by the Germans during the Ardennes Offensive (the Battle of the Bulge), trying to cross a plowed field after the enemy had knocked out some of the tanks in the division. It was Dec. 19, 1944.
"The lead tanks and the ones in the rear were knocked out," he said of the tank line. "One had lost its track and we had to bail and take for the woods. I met a major and he asked if we knew where we were going. We said, ŒNo sir, no one knows."
Squires was shot through the right foot trying to cross a field.
"I tried to get up and run, but when I put my foot down, my heel was where my ankle should have been," he said.
The Germans rounded him up along with some other soldiers and took them to a barn where they "doctored" his injury.
"They cut it open where the bullet had been and packed gauze in there," Squires said. It is the only medical treatment he received.
He later found the bullet in his shoe, where it had passed clean through.
The Germans shipped their POWs to Berlin, where Squires was transferred through a series of war camps, so many he can't remember them all.
At one, he recalls the disposal of the dead.
"They would bring them out by the wagon loads and burn them," he said.
The humane treatment of prisoners was minimal, at best. Food was limited, consisting of boiled water with a few potatoes or peelings, a thin gruel. Clothes were mostly rags and changed seldom -- every two to three months. In spite of the freezing weather, one blanket was allotted for prisoners that slept on a wood slab on the floor.
Squires was shipped by boxcar back to Berlin, he said.
In the meantime, Squires' family was informed that he was missing in action.
"His parents thought he was dead," his wife, Betty Squires, said. "I didn't know what to think."
She knew something was terribly wrong, she said, when her letters began coming back.
"I wrote them before we knew he was missing," she said.
Freedom came at the hands of the Russians, who liberated the camp Squires was in on April 23, 1945. A visit by a Red Cross worker helped guide the POWs toward the American lines.
The road to freedom was long, however, with Squires and others wandering about the German countryside, seeking friendly forces. The German people, he said, were different from the Nazi regime members.
"We walked until dark," he recalls. "We went to a German's house. They didn't like Russians, but if we were Americans, it was OK. We stayed in their barn and they gave us bread and bacon."
It was one of the best meals he'd ever had, he said.
Finally, the group made it to the American lines, where they had to identify themselves as Americans -- some Germans had been trying to escape by dressing and acting as French allies, Squires said.
The POWs were taken in and roused at 4 a.m. the next morning, but no one grumbled, he said, because they were fed breakfast and taken to the airport to fly to Le Havre, France, the last stop before boarding a ship for the United States.
Squires came home 50 pounds lighter and as an officer. At 165 when he entered, he weighed 115 afterward, a shell of his former self. He was promoted from private to corporal during his service. He was 21 years old, a battle-hardened veteran and a weary soldier who had given much of himself for the cause of freedom.
And lucky, very lucky to be alive.
His homecoming was joyous, especially when he learned that his brother had come through the war as well. Squires was given 77 days of leave. He went home to Francis.
Squires married his sweetheart on Nov. 14, 1945. They used his $636 in back pay to build a small house with four rooms and moved in a week before their son, Tommy, was born.
Sixty years later, Squires sits in his recliner and relives it like it was yesterday. On the walls are photos of him and his brother in uniform, handsome and smiling.
Also on the wall are the medals and ribbons -- framed reminders of what he gave to his country.