Ex-POW used quick thinking to survive WWII
By Joe Lawlor
MT. MORRIS TWP. - Matthew M. Lewicki still owns a metal dog tag issued to him when he entered a POW camp in Germany during World War II.
The dull gray tag was stamped to note Lewicki was prisoner No. 11689 in Stalag 7B near Memmingen.
Lewicki, 89, began talking about his war experiences for the first time a few years ago, shocking his sons, David and Matthew.
"He never talked about anything," said son Matthew T. Lewicki. "If we brought it up, he would close the subject right away."
Lewicki was recently honored by U.S. Rep. Dale E. Kildee, D-Flint, during a reception at his home. He also was presented with medals he had earned but was never sent.
Lewicki, a U.S. Army private, stormed Anzio Beach in Italy in 1944, where a bullet grazed his leg.
"I just wrapped it up and kept going," Lewicki said.
While traveling north to Rome, Lewicki's company was ordered to fall back to a previous position. On a road just a few miles from Anzio, only a few weeks after landing on the beach, Lewicki saw two members of his company get shot.
"We all fell to the ground, and soon we were surrounded by Germans," Lewicki said.
Another man was shot while he was lying on the ground.
"I figured I was going to be the next one who was shot. So I jumped up, because I wasn't going to let them shoot me while I was lying down," Lewicki said.
But the Germans didn't shoot him. Instead, he was shipped to a prison camp.
Lewicki slept on wooden planks, with only his hat for a pillow. He ate a piece of stale bread for breakfast. Lunch was skipped, and dinner consisted of a thin vegetable stew, often with rotten vegetables.
His weight fell from 160 to 110 pounds, but about eight months into his 14 months as a POW, quick thinking by Lewicki may have saved him.
The Germans needed POWs to work on the farms left behind by men fighting in the army.
Only 25 out of hundreds of prisoners were picked to work on the farms. But Lewicki had hidden his watch when his company surrendered, and he flashed his watch to the German officer who was deciding which POWs would be sent to the farms.
The officer took his watch and chose Lewicki for the farm, although he still slept at a prison camp. His food was upgraded to a wheat cereal for breakfast and a hearty stew for dinner.
"I wouldn't say it was good, but it was livable," he said.
Lewicki said that because they were cut off from news, the POWs didn't know how the war was going.
They suspected the war was over when they were told they were being moved from the prison camp.
When they heard U.S. tanks rumbling down their road, Lewicki said the POWs ran into the street. Soldiers in the tanks threw the men cigarettes and candy.
"We were all so happy to see the tanks," he said.
When Lewicki made it home to Flint, his wife, Albina, didn't know he had made it out of the war alive. She had received two letters - one stating he was missing in action and the other that he was a POW.
When he arrived at his home, she wasn't there to greet him. She was surprised when she came home a few hours later.
"We couldn't talk because both of us were crying so badly," Lewicki said. Albina Lewicki died in 1991.
Son Matthew said his dad started to realize it was important to share his story.
"There's a lot of families who don't know the history, the details. And, unfortunately, so many of them are dying, so I would encourage people to talk about it," he said.
© 2004 Flint Journal