The next morning we were loaded onto an old suspicious-looking freighter full of rust. With great misgivings we boarded the boat which had seen at least 30 to 40 years of service. It was flying an English flag. Only a skeleton military crew with a captain as commander was to guard us on the trip. There were narrow wooden steps leading to the forward hold. A makeshift sail was attached above the entrance to catch any faint breeze and channel it down into the hold. The staircase led all the way down to the bottom of the hold right above the bilge. Higher up one could make out three iron portholes. Apparently these were above the waterline. There was one toilet for 250 men. Most of us had diarrhea and that meant we had to stand in line again almost immediately after using the toilet. The hold was lit with three light bulbs. Sacks filled with straw lay on the floor with no room to stand between each straw bag. The hot summer sun heated the iron deck so that one could feel the reflecting radiation from the deck on our faces as we walked toward the opening of the hold. I estimated that this ship had come from England around Cape town with war material. Maybe there might be hope that the food on this ship would be better than the rice and onions we had lived on for the last six months.

The humming of the engine gave a sign that we were ready to take off. We could hear the anchor chain being raised. The boat began to move and started into the Red Sea. All we could see was the small opening on top of the stairs with the makeshift sail directing a light breeze into the hold. Our meals were monotonous: rice with mutton and bread and hot coffee;--not any better than in Egypt! As we tried to bed down for the night, we realized that the space between each person was so restricted that one could not turn over on the straw-filled sack without bumping into the next man. The ship was full of large rats measuring anywhere from eight to twelve inches not including their tails. They ran right over our faces or limbs, looking for a slice of bread we sometimes kept hidden under the straw sack. Of course, catching a rat became our favorite nightly occupation. During the first night we caught and killed six rats. What should we do with them?

"Give them to me. I will hang them on the pipes in front of the lowest step of the staircase. When the captain makes his morning inspection, he will see them," I said.

Sure enough, early in the morning we could hear the steps of two officers descending the staircase. The light was so dim that the captain could not see the dangling rats before they touched his face. As he tried to get this unknown something out of his face, he realized that there were six large rats touching him.

"Who hung the rats on the pipes?" he shouted with a loud angry voice. In the dim lights one could see the veins of his forehead bulging.

"I want to know who did this." His voice sounded as sharp as a knife through the silent hold of the ship. No one answered.

"There will be no water, coffee or food until you report the soldier who did this."

After he heard no answer, he turned around and walked back up the stairs followed by the second Lieutenant.

"Otto, you have to go and confess that you did it. He will do what he said he would do. We will have no water or food for days unless you tell him."

"Don't worry. I will go and see him," I answered. I climbed up the stairs and asked the guard on top of the stairs where I could see the captain. I was led to the dining room where the captain were having breakfast with his fellow officers. I stood at attention in front of him and stated that I was the soldier he was looking for.

"I am an eight-semester medical student," I began. "This boat is infested with large rats, Captain. Already two soldiers have suffered minor rat bites. There is a great danger that these disease-carrying animals could transmit numerous diseases to humans. The only way to protect us is to hang the dead rats on the pipes. This will chase the other rats away. The prisoners meant no harm nor showed disrespect when they were hanging the rats on those pipes. Would you please take back the orders you have given?" At first, the captain made a dubious face but then said., "I accept your apology. I am sorry I lost my temper. I did not know that dead rats would keep the others away. Guard, take this prisoner back into the hold." I did not tell the captain that rats are cannibalistic and eat their dead victims.

The heat in the Red Sea kept us bathed in sweat. A fourth of us was allowed on deck for two hours during the day. We had shifts of 10 men who could stand next to the bottom of the stairs to catch some fresh air.

After four days the freighter passed the city of Aden in the distance and rounded the horn of Africa to head straight south. Four other freighters had joined us in the Indian Ocean. We started taking a zig-zag course, making not more than 10 to 12 knots. German submarines were already active in this part of the world. To be sunk by a German submarine would have been ironic. We felt like the slaves must have felt in the old days. Most of the time we were kept in the bottom of the hold filled with humid tropical air and foul with the smell of the sweat of 250 soldiers.

Soon the English guards became friendlier, eager to get some of the medals the soldiers had earned during the war. Two soldiers were willing to give up their Iron Cross for a large wrench with which we were able to open one of the portholes. But when we had the iron cover opened a crack, water started to pour into the hold. The porthole was too close to the waterline when the ship was in motion to try to get some fresh air into our hold. On the eighth day suddenly the vibration of the ship's screw stopped, and we could hear the rattling of the anchor chain as the anchor dropped into the ocean. With our wrench we successfully opened one porthole and could see that we were anchored in a large bay. From the crew we heard that we were in Madagascar and the city one mile away on shore was Marajanga. We had to be careful not to get the friendly guards into trouble, so we opened the porthole only when they were around. As each of us spent one minute to look around, three remarked that the porthole was big enough to squeeze a small body through. The three came up with the idea that they would try to escape.

"You guys are crazy. First of all, there are probably sharks in the bay. The shore is at least one mile from the boat," I told them. "The climate is hot and humid in Madagascar. The population is probably hostile. Only very few will speak French. There is a tropical forest on shore," I continued.

"We've made up our minds. We will not stay on this slave ship," they argued. "We are small enough to get through the porthole. Just throw us our bundles."

"The island is a French colony and the Free French under De Gaulle have taken possession of it. They run this place. You probably will starve to death or die of a tropical disease." But to no avail. After the last daylight had faded, the three adventurers squeezed themselves with a few scrapes through the porthole. We had prepared and wrapped their bundles and threw them overboard after they had entered the water.

We could never guess what the ship's purpose was in Madagascar. In the morning hours we noticed the lifting of its anchor. This time we apparently took off for South Africa. At least we were allowed to get back on deck for our allotted time. We scanned the horizon, but the other freighters were nowhere to be seen. After three and a half days we approached the harbor of Durban. The freighter was maneuvered with a tug to a pier. We had to gather our few belongings and were taken ashore. We stood in rows of ten in three blocks so we could be counted. The captain gave orders to repeat the count.

"You miscounted again," he told the sergeant. "Try again." "I am sorry, sir, there are three soldiers missing," was the answer. The ships' crew was ordered to search the whole boat. After two hours the English officer had to turn us over to the South Africans without any idea where or how the Germans could have disappeared. A train stood next to the pier, and we took a luxurious ride in upholstered passenger cars into the interior of South Africa. Pietermaritzburg, we were told, is our destination. We had room for six men in each compartment. Our first decent meal in eight months was served on this trip. The South African soldiers demonstrated a very friendly attitude toward us. They probably thought of the 25,000 South African prisoners the Germans had taken. We got cigarettes, fresh coffee and even a piece of chocolate for dessert. When some of us tried to give some cigarettes to the black railroad personnel during a train stop, some of the guards jumped from the train and with their rifle butts hit the black workers without mercy so that the poor devils fell on the ground. We had forgotten that we were in a country with Apartheid.

The country was green with rolling hills. Friendly-looking small towns and villages passed us by, and we felt it a joy to see something green again after more than one year in a desolate desert! The train ride took five hours until we arrived at the railroad station of Pietermaritzburg. Our prisoner-of-war compound was only a few miles out of town. It had comfortable barracks and a soccer field. Our cooks had a better variety of vegetables and fruits with which to prepare our meals. What a pleasure that we were not permitted to clean our toilets! That was a job only the Zulus were allowed to do.

Next to our compound was another area fenced in with barbed wire where a group of 150 tribesmen were being trained by the South Africans as future truck drivers. They were taken from their villages and their wives in the bush country, and issued army uniforms. The instructors tried very hard to convince them to put on shoes. We were amused by their love for marching and exercising with a rifle. In the evening they gathered around several fires. Here they took out their drums and started a dance, first slowly side-stepping toward the right to make a circle around the fire. The drumbeat was accompanied by loud melodious singing as they changed their motion from a right to a left encirclement. This singing and drumming kept on for hours and became faster and faster as time went on until the Zulus got into a trance like state. By midnight they finally disappeared into their barracks. We watched this spectacle each night for one week until we thought that this might be a great way also for us to spend a boring evening. So we started our own fire, made some drums and started to sing the African "Umba Umba." The Zulus at the beginning did not know what to make of this and watched their rivals. After a while they got used to the fact that next door there was white competition to their dancing.

The South Africans donated musical instruments and books. It didn't take long until we had a proficient orchestra and choir in our camp. Soon packages with food and clothing arrived from families who had one of their members in a German prisoner-of-war camp. Usually a note was attached that, when writing our short monthly letter to Germany, we should mention the fact that we had received a package from a South African family.

One month after we landed in Durban two of the escapees from Madagascar were brought into our camp. The third one had not made it to shore. The skin of the two was covered with a multitude of infected areas, most likely from insect bites. One had malaria. After stealing some clothes from a house, they had wandered into the jungle and had tried to live from fruits. They had made it to the next village and were received by friendly natives who offered them food and let them sleep in their housing. After marching aimlessly without any idea or plan as to what to do on Madagascar, their hunger finally forced them to turn themselves in to the French authorities.

The South African army had a local dispensary which was outside the camp. When they heard that there was a German dentist among us, they put him to work in the dental office next to the South African dentist. I was called to help him as an assistant. Karl Heinz and I became good friends during our stay in Africa. First, he worked on the Zulus. He had to do some fillings and remove some infected teeth. Most of the natives actually had perfect teeth, and at times wanted to have an eyetooth removed, which they would thread on a string and hang around their necks. Very soon, as they discovered the skill of the German dentist, the officers and their wives came into the office and had their teeth treated by him. For some unknown reason, they preferred Karl Heinz to the South African dentist. That meant he had to make impressions for crowns and bridges, pour the gold himself and fit the crowns into his patient's mouths, a job the South African dentist was not trained to do. He had to send the work to an outside lab. He taught me how to pull teeth. The Zulus almost always refused a local anesthetic. I pulled a number of teeth, and the patients did not complain one second about the procedure. Not a drop of sweat appeared on their foreheads. The Zulus had a great tolerance for pain. For me Karl Heinz poured a large 24-carat gold ring which weighed one ounce and which I was able to hide during all the many shakedowns to which I had to submit. Wrapped in a condom, usually I placed the ring into my rectum. I was able to bring it back to Germany.

One prisoner came down with acute appendicitis. He was transferred to the local civilian hospital and was successfully operated on. Two days after his surgery the South African medical officer invited me to accompany him on a visit to the operated soldier. He took quite a chance by taking a German prisoner along. We drove in his car toward Pietermaritzburg. On the way we passed a Zulu woman who seemed to be in her ninth month of pregnancy. She was carrying a large basket filled with fruit and vegetables on her head, most likely hoping to sell them at the open market in town. In the hospital the physician introduced me as an eight-semester medical student. I noticed that the German soldier was almost ready to be discharged in a day or two. Three hours later on our way home I saw the same Zulu woman with a baby wrapped in a blanket and one hand balancing the basket on her head striding in the direction of her village. The doctor told me that this was not unusual.

Almost nine months had passed since I was taken prisoner. Except for the parcel from my sister in Cairo I had not received a single letter from Irmgard or my parents. Berlin was already under steady night attacks from the British. The German Army was bogged down in one of the worst winters in Russia. From South Africa they let us write once a month by way of the Red Cross.

Enthusiasm for the war in Africa hit an all-time low when the English refused to let the South African division retreat from Tobruk as Rommel made his second advance. There was a lot of loud resentment against the English, and an underground movement developed among the Dutch and German inhabitants who had lived here for three or four generations. The English called them "Fifth Columnists." We had some observers in our camp who reported a mysterious light coming from a house a mile away. Each night for one to two minutes it signaled a flickering light in Morse code. The rumor went around that if anyone wanted to escape, all he had to do was to walk to that house and the "fifth columnists" would transport the escapee to the Portuguese border. Nobody had deciphered the Morse code message, or at least not divulged it. After six weeks two men managed to escape by lashing themselves underneath the garbage truck. We had placed stuffed puppets into their cots so that the evening count would be correct. During the morning and afternoon count we had taken the puppets in between two men and at least for the two-day counts the escape of the soldiers remained undetected. On the second day after they discovered the disappearance, the search parties came back empty-handed. Three weeks later a news item appeared in the local newspaper: Two German soldiers had been interned for the duration of the war in Portuguese Angola.

It was now mid-spring in South Africa. After four months in Pietermaritzburg the English had become uncomfortable leaving German prisoners in the hands of the old Boers. In the meantime the Japanese had invaded the Philippines, Indonesia and the Malayan Peninsula and with their fleet dominated all of the Indian Ocean. In mid-December 1941 they had sunk two of the biggest English battleships near Singapore. Rommel was attacked by the reinforced English Eighth Army on October 22nd. After a ten-days seesaw battle he had been forced to retreat. In early November the Americans had landed in Algiers. Rommel now had to fight a two-front war in Africa.