Our South African experience was not to last forever. Ten days before Christmas we had to pack our things and get back on the train for a trip to Durban. We hoped that the South Africans would move us to another camp, but the fact that we were heading straight for the harbor of Durban advised us otherwise. As the train tracks moved closer to the harbor, we noticed a large super-liner with two smoke-stacks. The whole ship was painted in gray. It was the 45000 ton ocean liner "Ile de France." It looked at that time as if we were heading for a long trip. We ruled out England. So that left only the American continent with Canada or the U.S.A. We embarked on the "Ile de France" and were directed to the forward hold, which must have been cleared of all the cabins to make room for troops. As we found out later the ship had transported 4,000 Australian troops to Suez and was steaming from there to Durban to pick us up. The hold was very roomy, well-lighted and air-conditioned. There were hooks on the ceiling to hang up 300 hammocks. Tables and benches filled the area toward the middle of the ship. They were all fastened to the floor. This was a great improvement over our old slave ship. Within twelve hours the ship's crew threw its ropes onto the pier, and the ship was pushed by two tug boats out of the harbor. It took a south-easterly course. Our speculation was that it would take this course toward the Antarctic Circle to avoid Japanese navy vessels. We could observe the ocean through the many portholes, but were also allowed to spend several hours a day on deck.

As the days progressed, the weather became colder and the sea came at us with big 30 to 35-foot rollers. The huge luxury liner, now without ballast, sped through the ocean at 20 knots, dipping its bow each time into one of those giant waves. The wind took the top of the wave and at times carried it over the bridge. The boat had large amounts of Australian mutton on board, which the English Army quartermaster in Suez must have refused to accept. So, we enjoyed large portions of mutton. But it soon became apparent that we were getting mutton meat for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and after a week of mutton the smell of mutton killed our appetite. There was no variety on the ship's menu.

Two of the prisoners came down with a high fever. A very nice Australian ship's doctor invited me to the dispensary where the sick prisoners were lying, cared for by an elderly nurse. I had to take a blood smear for him, and he diagnosed malaria on both patients. He let me use the microscope and look at the malaria parasite.

Two weeks into the trip an Antarctic storm bounced this large liner around like a nutshell. Not a cup, not a dish stayed on the table. But none of the prisoners got seasick. The guards became seasick, and as we heard from them, most of the officers were spending their time in bed. It was too rough to go outside on deck. Every 30-foot wave hammered the ship's hull and poured tons of water ten stories high over the bridge. All Australian waiters in the officers' mess were seasick.

An English sergeant came down the stairs and asked, "Who is a waiter? I need some waiters in the officers' mess. Our waiters are all seasick." I thought this might be an occasion wherein some extra food could fall off for me. I volunteered together with another prisoner. Friends lined the inside of my uniform pockets with plastic, hoping I would bring some better food than the daily mutton from the officers' dining room. When I showed up during mealtime at my newly assigned job, I found only a few officers sitting at the tables. The rest must have all been sick in their cabins. When I went to the kitchen to fetch a meal, I always encouraged the cook to give me an extra serving of gravy over the beef or chicken. Then I served it to an officer who already looked pale. When he saw the gravy, he said, "Take it away. I cannot eat this stuff. Get me some fruit." I obliged him and went back into the kitchen. On the way I stuffed the meat into my plastic-lined pockets. During the meal the ship's officers had to hold their plate with one hand to prevent it from slipping. Most of the silverware and glasses ended up on the floor. Besides eating well myself that way I could bring some decent food to some of my fellow prisoners.

When I came up the next day to wait on the officers, the cook called me, "Bring this cup of coffee to the captain on the bridge."

I had no idea which way was up to the bridge. The cook described the long way up the different staircases. I carefully balanced the full steaming cup up the ladder, up the steps, through open doors, up another 16 steps, spilling more than half of the hot coffee. With the few English words known to me, I presented this messy cup to the captain, who, seeing the half empty cup, lets loose a tirade of English seamen curses of which I understood only "bloody" here and "bloody" there. I was sent to bring another cup but "full" this time. With great anxiety not to lose my newly acquired assignment, I inquired who had previously taken the coffee onto the bridge to the captain's satisfaction. "Yes, the English waiter is in sickbay with malaria." I was told. With trepidation I went to see him. He was shaking with a malaria attack and high fever in bed. With sign language and the few English words I knew, he finally understood that I wanted to know,: how he got the coffee to the bridge without spilling it. Carefully he pulled me down to his pillow and whispered, supported with handmotions, "This is a great secret and you are not to tell a single soul about this." I assured him that his secret would never come over my lips. After more sign language and words I finally grasped his scheme. He took a great sip of the coffee before he balanced the cup all the way to the bridge and kept the coffee in his mouth to return it to the cup before he turned the last corner to the bridge. I have kept the mate's secret for many years. I do not have to tell you that I kept my job as a waiter until he returned to work, which was when we arrived in the harbor of Freemantle, Australia.

Christmas came and went as we struggled with the heavy sea in the Indian Ocean. Very soon I was to start my second year behind barbed wire. There was no reason to celebrate--one year and not a single letter from home. Off and on we had heard of 1,000-plane bombing raids on German cities, including Berlin.

It took us two-and-a-half weeks to get to Freemantle. We were not allowed on deck. The ship took on fuel and, we hoped, got rid of the mutton. After two days we took off again in the direction of Tasmania. The trip into the fjord leading to the city of Hobart will remain in my memory forever. Tasmania has a history which is a dark spot in the memory of many Australians. Since Australia was established in 1789 as a prison colony to dump outcasts from Britain, the worst offenders were brought to Tasmania and incarcerated on the southern tip of the island. Many a prisoner's crime was not more than stealing an apple or some food. When even the toughest prisoners got their freedom, they stayed on in Tasmania and settled in the town of Hobart. We were allowed on deck as the "Ile de France" slowly sailed through the green landscape surrounded by rolling hills with high mountains in the background. The luscious vegetation on both sides of the fjord opened up when we reached this picturesque city. For two days we could inhale the fragrance of the flowers and trees and observe the hustle and bustle of this beautiful town. The ship, with its ten-story height, offered a magnificent view of the harbor and town. But our journey had to go on. It was a smooth sail through the Tasmanian Sea, and two days later we reached Auckland harbor in the northern island of New Zealand. A natural harbor of great beauty, the city spread over the hills reaching from the Tasmanian Sea on the west to the Pacific Ocean on the east. Here again we stopped for two days. The harbor was full of English, Australian and American warships. The American forces had retreated to Corregidor in February 1942 and were now in Japanese prison camps. It was already mid-January when we left New Zealand on our way to Hawaii. After our experience in the Antarctic Ocean, this was a pleasant journey and we were on edge as to what we would see in Hawaii. Early in the morning 10 days later our ship entered Pearl Harbor. Our guards told us that we would not be allowed to come on deck. As we went through the entrance of the harbor, boats with young girls and boys came alongside with dozens of leis around their necks. They followed the boat until it was tied to the dock. We saw the boys and girls come onto the ship and put a lei around each soldier and crew member. With our eyes glued to the portholes we could see the "Arizona" with only its mast sticking out and numerous sunken battleships and destroyers distributed all through the harbor. Repair crews were working feverishly to get things back into shape. We got an inkling of how much destruction the Japanese air raid must have done.

The "Ile de France" stayed less than a day in Hawaii, and the next morning we were already on our way to where?? Canada or the U.S.A.? The ship made good time, and within six days in the first misty morning light we could make out the contours of the Golden Gate Bridge. So, it was the United States after all. I wondered whether the British had made a deal with the U.S.A.? The first 1,000 American bomber had joined the English attacks over Germany. The Americans had lost several hundred pilots by now. They were kept in German prisoner-of-war camps. So it would be natural that the English High Command would assign the first large group of prisoners they had taken in Africa to the Americans, to have them interned in the U.S. as a guarantee that their prisoners in Germany were treated well. We were all standing awestruck as we passed under the Golden Gate Bridge with the silhouette of San Francisco to the right. The "Ile de France" let its deep-voiced horn sound with full force to greet the city. As we slowly passed the yacht harbor, we saw pier after pier with a liberty ship on each side, where the deck was being converted into a flight deck and the smokestack placed on the side of the ship. I counted ten ships being converted into an auxiliary aircraft carrier at the same time. And that was one and a half months after the attack on Pearl Harbor. They were all intended to guard the convoys on the way to Britain. How could Germany cope with such an industrial superpower? I was thinking of the struggling Germany, with a frozen front line in Russia and now Rommel driven back from El Alamein, and the British advancing toward Tripoli. The American invasion in Tunis had made steady progress and it could not be long until all the Germans in North Africa were captured or driven back to Italy. When I saw all those Liberty ships at the piers as the "Ile de France slowly passed by, I knew deep inside that the war had to end in a disaster for Germany, a conclusion I had to keep to myself for a long time.