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When George Pepperell left in 1940 to fight the Germans he probably never imagined he'd spend nearly four years living under their thumb.
But, after a year training at Burnham Military Camp and in Egypt, he found himself in Crete and "in the bag", as they called it, a prisoner
of war on a bitter journey to a "hell camp" in Germany called Stalag VIII-B.
Captured after the Battle of Crete, George and thousands of other Allied prisoners endured months of maltreatment and uncertainty - herded into makeshift camps, coping with hunger and lack of hygiene, and finally sent by cattle truck to POW camps across Europe.
Only then were they recognised as official prisoners of war and given numbers. Information about their capture and location was sent to next of kin in their home country.
The news would have been bittersweet for his family in the south Taranaki town Rahotu, who had already received a telegram in May 1941 listing George as "missing in action, whereabouts unknown". And, back in Middlemarch, Otago, George's girlfriend Elsie Newman had three of her letters
to her sweetheart returned to her, marked, "Missing, return to sender".
It took five months for a second telegram to arrive: George was no longer missing, but at Stalag VIII-B, Lamsdorf, Germany - POW number 7963.
George, "Pep", as his friends knew him, had already written many letters to his family and the woman he intended to marry. It was while he was training at Burnham they announced their engagement. On a ship to the Middle East, he killed time in bouts of army boxing, winning a cup as ship champ, and in Egypt he remained in good spirits before being sent to Crete.
But then came nearly four years of postcards and lettercards, censored by the guards of Nazi Germany. Sometimes, George's writing was positive and showed backbone and humour. Other times, his words were written in despair.
Elsie and George, my mother's aunt and uncle, had met while she was working at Kawarau Station, near Cromwell, and he was working around Bannockburn. That was before their old-fashioned Central Otago courtship was interrupted by a call-up to war.
It's not known what happened to the letters Elsie wrote to her tall, rugged, beloved during the time he was away. But she kept the letters he wrote back to her in a marbled cardboard box, along with other mementos and snapshots of what the war meant to the country boy-turned-soldier and his betrothed.
There were maps of POW camp locations around Europe and instructions on how to send parcels to prisoners, a plastic bag of black armbands and photos of "old cobbers", a faded paybook with a picture of a family member killed during the war pasted inside.
Taking up to six months to arrive in Middlemarch, his letters are a glimpse into what he experienced as a captive soldier and the loss he and Elsie suffered as a couple.
30 November, 1941
I will not be much good for anything by the time I get out of this, so just forget me, have a good time.
George
He wrote this line in the first short postcard Elsie received from Stalag VIII-B. As the winter ended and mail and parcels started coming through, his spirits seemed to rise, despite reality sinking in.
12 July, 1942
My dearest Elsie,
Here I am again, happy and fit as ever. I am in good health at present and I hope you are the same. I haven't had any letters from any of you for over nine weeks, it is hard to see the New Zealand boys getting mail and me not getting any, but they will come up some time, I haven't had the parcel from home yet, all the boys here have had two from home. I had cigarettes sent from New Zealand and one clothing parcel from the New Zealand House in England. Well, darling, I have written you some letters that are not so pleasant, but I still love you no matter what happens, but it is the way, darling. I do not expect you to wait for me, it has been a long time for any girl to wait, but if things go right and you are still writing when I get back we will be married within two months or so, get things ready if you are waiting.
Love George forever.
His letters show fluctuating spirits, sometimes upbeat when food, activities and letters were plentiful, other times struggling with the boredom and uncertainty.
22 November, 1942
I received three letters from you the other day, and I was very pleased to hear from you. You do not seem to be getting my letters, I am writing to you more than anyone, I only get two of these lettercards and four postcards a month, and I have a lot of folks to write to, but I never forget you, you are always in my thoughts. Sometimes I think that you will be married when I get back, it is too much to ask any girl to wait for me. It looks like that it will be 1945 before I get back and I will be very lucky if I am back by then, so I think it is best for you to forget me till I come back, I know it will be hard but I cannot see my way clear to hold all our promises that we made when I left home.
I am in the best of health at present and hope to keep it till I get out of this damn hole, it is very cold here, we have had some snow and some more coming down. I must close, hoping you will see through this on the bright side.
Yours forever, George.
Other letters discussed "the good times when we were in old Bannockburn" and victories in camp, through to lost friends and changes for POWs.
Several months in and out of hospital saw more despondence, and one last, honest letter.
18 July, 1944
My dearest Elsie, Things have changed a lot lately, we all used to say that we would like to see our planes come over, but now that they do come over here, we pray for them to stay away, they have dropped a few bombs quite close to us. If they come over very much a lot of the boys will be going off their heads.
We cannot stand too much of that as we are. They know that this place for miles around has a lot of POWs working, the first raid they made killed four boys. If they keep this up a lot of us will not see home.
Yours forever, George.
His letters ended after that. There were various possible reasons why.
Most prisoners from Lamsdorf (now called Stalag 344) were sent on the infamous "death marches". About 30,000 Allied POWs were force-marched across Poland and Germany in appalling winter conditions, from January to April 1945, as the Soviet army advanced on Poland and the Nazis decided to evacuate camps to prevent the liberation of POWs by the Russians.
Many died. Those who didn't march still ended the war half-starved after Nazi orders to destroy all POW tinned food. Many POWs finished the war at half their pre-war weight.
George later told me one small detail about his final day as a prisoner, when pieces of old bread were thrown over a wall to desperate soldiers.
He could still remember tearing into the stale, rock-hard food.
"They tasted like cake," he said.
At 1.8m tall and usually as strong as an ox, George ended his time as a POW weighing 38kg.
News of his freedom was sent to Elsie and his family on 23 April, 1945.
His certificate of discharge tells of 196 days of service in New Zealand and five years and 10 days out of New Zealand. Total: five years and 206 days.
In Prisoners of War, the official history of New Zealand POWs, the great soldier Sir Harold Kippenberger summed up the hopelessness and futility soldiers must have felt during their captivity by recording the words one man wrote following his release: "I had thought of death or wounds, but never of surrender, yet there it was."
Like many other returned servicemen, George barely spoke of his time away. After marrying his Elsie at Rahotu on October 24 1945, he returned to Middlemarch. He and Elsie forged a happy life.
There were no children but they were close to their extended family and embraced by those in the wider community. A keen sportsman, horseman and boxing coach, George never asked for any recognition. He died in 1993, aged 76. Elsie died in 1997. She was 82.
Kippenberger recognised the fortitude of all those who fought the enemy on battlefields or behind barbed wire.
"I saw those who came out of Germany after the war ended. They were thin and strained, but they carried themselves as soldiers and as men who knew that they had acquitted themselves as men in a long and bitter ordeal. I was proud that I had served with them in the hard years."
STALAG VIII-B: DIRT, MISERY
Stalag VIII-B was at Lamsdorf, Germany, near the Polish border.
More than 300,000 Allied and Soviet prisoners passed through the camp during World War II. Between 40,000 and 100,000 prisoners died, most buried in mass graves nearby.
Lamsdorf - now Lambinowice - in south-west Poland, has a monument devoted to victims of the camp and a Central Prisoner of War Museum. History books and websites give grim details about conditions.
Men first bathed in troughs, later in a bath-house that in winter had a thick coating of ice on the floor.
They had a shower every 10 days. Latrines were in concrete buildings built over deep pits. Lids covered most of the 40 holes to keep rats from climbing out, but were sometimes stolen by men for firewood.
Stoves inside barracks were used for heating and cooking, but coal was scarce. In winter there was ice an inch thick inside windows and snow nearly a metre thick outside.
Food rations were mostly adequate, due mostly to British Red Cross parcels.
Clothing was mostly plentiful, again due to the Red Cross and parcels from home.
Some prisoners asked their family to send no more clothing, instead requesting parcels of chocolate, razor blades, toothpaste and other toilet articles. Cigarettes became currency.
Many prisoners worked outside the camp on farms, in mines and factories, shovelling snow and laying railway tracks.
Many said they were treated well but Red Cross inspections declared conditions at Stalag VIII-B as indescribably miserable and dirty, depressing and wretched although hospital facilities were excellent.
The Soviet army reached the camp on March 17, 1945. It was later used by the Soviets to house Germans, both POWs and civilians.
