In fact, if one were to ask the three thousand officers who spent most of their captivity in Oflag IID-IIB to write down what they experienced, we would have three thousand different accounts, often far apart from each other. We have all known comrades who practically spent their five years lying on their bunks brooding over their misfortune, while the personal diary of their room-mate was filled with classes, lectures, rehearsals or services rendered at the level of the room, block or camp level. All these accounts would have only a few points in common, the important events that had a strong impact on the life of each person and that affected the whole of the camp's activities.
It is these events that we will now evoke, without claiming to have a detailed chronology, which we will try to establish and which can be found at the end of this work.
We have reported that the arrivals to the Grossborn camp followed one another from 20 June 1940 to mid-July. From 23 July onwards, in Block III, the first to be occupied, Catholics could attend a large open-air mass.
in the open air. The first days were devoted to the formalities of searching, registration and delousing as well as to the installation in the various barracks. But very quickly, some officers were preoccupied with filling their forced leisure time and bringing to their fellow prisoners the resources of their knowledge and skills. Thus, on 1 July, barely ten days after the arrival of the first contingents, the University of Oflag IID was born. Major Baticle, the second Rector of this University, tells us about its birth:
"The Rector. "It is a title that I took, or that was given to me (I don't remember very well) on a certain day in December 1940 when Commandant Rivain left, and that I gave up without too much regret on August 6, 1941, when my status as a veteran of 1914-1918 earned me an early release. In our good country of France, when there is a Rector, it means there is a University. So there was first in Grossborn, then in Arnswalde, a captivity University, quite original in its creation, in its organisation, in the composition of the teaching staff as well as the student body. "A few days after the beginning of my captivity, during the long trek which was to lead us from the Laffaux mill to Westphalenhof (*), we had stopped for 48 hours at Gedinne, in Belgium, a few kilometres from our department of the Ardennes. I had the opportunity to meet a cavalry squadron commander, Major Rivain, a reserve officer like myself, who gave me his name and title: Director of the Nouvelle Revue Française: I told him mine: History teacher in the Saint Cyr class at the Lycée Saint Louis.
And he immediately proposed, when we arrived at our final destination, to organise lectures on literature and history, not so much to instruct our fellow students as to give them (and ourselves) an opportunity to kill time. A modest undertaking, but one that would soon take shape.
No sooner had we arrived, at dawn on 21 June, at the Westphalenhof station, after having spent a few days in Trier and Mainz, after having crossed the Rhine, the Elbe and the Oder, than a few officers, members of the University, were gathering their barrack mates for small talks about their speciality.
Having learned of this, Commandant Rivain wanted to co-ordinate these initiatives: on 28 June, a meeting of academics was held to set up an embryonic organisation; it was there that I met Ratinaud, Daniel Robert, historians and geographers, Marcel Robert and Zink, professors of German, Kuntzmann and Chamoine Lainé, professors of mathematics. And on 1 July, at 5 p.m., being at the same time the oldest academic present and the only senior officer, I had the great honour of climbing into my chair (in reality, I was sitting on a chair, with a small table in front of me, level with the ground) and, in front of 300 comrades, sitting on their little stools, I began my lecture (at that time, in the University of France, this was the time when we finished them, but this world of captivity was really an upside-down one! ).(19)
We will come back later on to the different activities that took place behind the barbed wire, but let us also note now that on July 28th, Chaline gave a piano recital, that recreational sessions were organised... and that the first attempt to escape was on August 10th. At the beginning of September, the Aspirants left the camp to be regrouped in a special camp in East Prussia.
On 29 September, in the large hall of the canteen - about which we will have the opportunity to speak again - a first theatre performance - despite all the imperfections due to improvisation - was put on.
In this rapid review of events, it is impossible to enumerate all the shows, music recitals or sports competitions which followed one after the other, any more than the few visits by delegates from the Red Cross or the Scapini mission... and the escape attempts. On 2 November, the first issue of the camp's first newspaper, called the "Ballon Captif", was published. Originally it was meant to be a sports paper.
In January 1941, eleven military chaplains were repatriated, and only Abbé Dupaquier, who refused to leave, remained in the camp. On Saturday 1st February, a successful escape, that of Captain Billotte, accompanied by Captain de Person and Lieutenant Richemond.

On 19 March, the local newspaper that we could receive in the camp, the "Pommersche Zeitung", announced the trial and the death sentence of the former camp canteen worker, Schmidt (*), who had made a fortune by selling us - at exorbitant prices, by the way - what was needed to improve a deficient ordinary life and to satisfy the smokers. Schmidt thus deserved all our gratitude. The court proceedings lasted four days:
they had been preceded by an enquiry made in the camp on 14 February.

On 21 March 1941, whereas until then the blocks had been isolated, the Germans agreed that the doors could be opened and that prisoners could move from one block to another without needing a pass.
We can now go to see friends in another block; and especially, for the long walkers, we can walk all around the camp, which is a good half hour walk.
This opening of the gates results in the unification of the Universities. Of course, at night, the blocks are isolated again.

On 27 March, during a walk in the forest, Lieutenants Branet and de Boissieu, accompanied by Klein, succeeded in escaping in the direction of Russia.

Sunday 22 June, for several days, an abnormal number of convoys had been using the railway line which passed in front of the camp:  we therefore learn with less surprise of the German attack against Russia.
In August, we note the creation of a Russian prison camp to the west and near our camp. The cemetery of this camp is adjacent to the one where some of our comrades are already buried.
Already, from a distance, when the convoys of Russian prisoners arrived at the station, we could see that an abnormal number of corpses were being taken out of each carriage. But moreover, every day, from now on, the walkers will be able to witness a revolting spectacle. I leave the floor to our comrade Ratinaud:
"On the path that crossed the little wood, a bumpy cart appeared, preceded by a sentry in arms, driven by a Russian prisoner. It was full of naked corpses whose limbs seemed even more emaciated than those of the skeletons. Here hung a livid hand, elsewhere a foot, elsewhere again a huge head with dead eyes. All of this swayed eerily at the pace of the horse, a long-haired Pomeranian horse. On the heap, right on top of the dead, sat another Russian prisoner, hardly less pale and thin than the corpses. He was eating a thin slice of black bread, no doubt the wages of his sad labour.
The two Frenchmen could not take their eyes off the spectacle. The cart stopped.
The driver got out and, with the help of his comrade, folded down the side of the cart. The pile of corpses slid into an open pit. There was a soft, cascading sound of bodies tumbling.
The sentry was smoking a cigarette, watching the manoeuvre with boredom. The two Russians then seized a bag at both ends and poured the contents over the corpses. A fine whitish powder. Then, with great effort, they covered it with sand. They climbed back into the cart and set off in the opposite direction. (20)
This spectacle was repeated every day for several weeks. The emotion in the camp was great and some demonstrations occurred near the barbed wire that ran along the camp on that side.
After threatening to shoot at these gatherings, the German authorities were forced to explain and justify their conduct in a public statement on 17 September. The burials of Russians were no longer carried out in sight of the camp.
In December 1941, a Pétain circle was created in the camp. The month of March 1942 was marked by a series of events that greatly altered relations between prisoners and their guards.
From barrack 35 in block I, a barrack relatively close to the barbed wire, a tunnel was built which emerged outside the camp to the north. Several teams of four or five had to go through it from 16 March onwards. On the 16th and 17th, everything goes as planned. But on the 18th ... let's leave it to Father Flament and Roger Ikor to tell the story of the following days:
On 18 March, at 9 p.m., at the exit of the tunnel, Lieutenant Rabin was shot at. Transported to the camp infirmary, Father Dupaquier went there immediately; the Germans wanted to take the chaplain out by force; he resisted. Twice, he had Captain Duhr, the French interpreter tell the Germans,  that he is there by virtue of the strictest right; he will only leave once his ministry is accomplished. The chaplain stood his ground and eventually overcame the German resistance. "Once the wound was uncovered, the eight Germans slipped away and left the wounded man in the hands of the French, doctors, nurses and chaplain.
The doctors injected him with camphorated oil and morphine and made a temporary dressing.
The chaplain administered the last rites to our comrade. At 2 a.m. on 19 March, Rabin is evacuated to Hammerstein hospital. He died there immediately after an emergency operation. (21) March 19, 1942 - The night before, our comrade Rabin was murdered under the conditions I have said. The officers of his block asked their chief, Colonel ... for a minute's silence at roll call.
This gentleman refused; so when he ordered his attention when the Germans arrived, no one obeyed. Great fury, threats, but yes, of a council of war. Then a captain, Du Crest, comes out of the ranks from behind, commands attention, then turns around! Both movements executed to perfection, the block turns its back on its French commander and to the German captain Barr, who has come for the roll call. Du Crest then recalls in two sentences "the cowardly attack on our seriously wounded comrade".then ordered a minute's silence. It is religiously observed, with the backs turned to  the officers, white with rage, while du Crest is taken away  with great blows of the butt". (22) ... In block III, the German officer was unable to get the officers to answer the roll call. He tried to approach Colonel Vendeur to obtain silence, to line up and to check. It was in vain; cries were heard: "Assassins! ". "Colonel Vendeur continued his investigation: the Germans had not been content to shoot at the first one to come out, they had unloaded a series of bursts in the tunnel stairwell; a suitcase at the bottom had been pierced by several bullets. "On the 21st, at the report, we were given the following details: the Germans were aware of the indignation that reigned in the camp; for several days, at roll call, the sentries came in armed.
Captain Bahr no longer smiles. The French colonel maintained the measures taken: suppression of "friendly" relations between Germans and French, closure of the German library, suppression of German classes, suppression of German cinema. But he was not in favour of banning all activities and all life in the camp.
On Monday 23 March, while the body was buried in the French cemetery in Hammerstein, a solemn service was held in the canteen of Block II in memory of Lieutenant Rabin. Huge crowd outside the canteen: choir of the four blocks. Rusher tries to enter the room but is blocked in the drum on the right of the stage. Chaplain Dupaquier celebrated mass. (23) From that moment on, relations between the French and German headquarters of the camp were clearly tense. The Germans tried to justify their action without succeeding. Moreover, on the following 11 April, we learn of the departure of Captain
Schulz, known as "the Admiral" who commanded the camp.
Another event was to have a lasting effect on relations with the German authorities: the escape of General Giraud on 17 April, but we would only suffer the consequences later, in our new camp.
At the end of the month, we were certain that the change of camp was imminent. We had a rehearsal on 29 April, followed by a general search on the 30th.
On 14 May, the prisoners from blocks II and III were crammed into the other two blocks, and, at the end of the afternoon, we saw the arrival of a first convoy of Polish officers whom we were to replace in Oflag IIB, in Arnswalde. Here is the account of Captain Arnoult, quoted by Yves Durand:
"A memorable arrival: the train with its well-known, carefully closed wagons, slowly pulls up; sentries surround it; along the small road leading to the camp, armed soldiers stand on the embankments every fifteen metres. The Kakie column advanced slowly, strongly flanked, with some German officers in the lead. Already our clamour has greeted them, but the first ranks having passed the guardhouse buildings, we move towards the barbed wire gate, which allows us to approach the arrivals within twenty-five metres.
Some comrades having learnt a welcome song in Polish, the improvised choristers sang it at the top of their lungs, to the emotional surprise of the Poles and the fury of the Germans. The former respond by gestures to our "Vive la Pologne"; then respond with "Vive la France (*)"; but the guards quickly push them back towards the entrance to block III.
The next day, at about 10 a.m., we gather in our starting gear, in groups of forty. After a long wait, the column moves off. At that moment,
we see Polish officers who, despite the imperious "Verboten (**)", have massed in silence between two barracks. Suddenly, a dozen of them lined up and placed a white rectangle on their chest; on each rectangle a letter stood out and the whole formed "Vive la France". They thus return our salute of the previous day.
A tremendous acclamation bursts forth from our ranks; we wave our hands, without taking any notice of our guards who are literally mad with rage; the tall man next to me crosses his bayonet and approaches my chest, vociferating. When we turn around, the Poles have disappeared and sentries surround our old barracks.
"The day before, French officers had witnessed, powerless and with rage in their hearts, the repressive action undertaken by the Germans following the demonstration welcoming the Poles; the guards had intervened, revolver in hand, accompanied by dogs to drive the Poles back to the barracks. And so, in a four-day criss-crossing, the camps were exchanged:
14 May - arrival of the first Polish contingent. 15th - departure of the first French contingent (blocks II and III). 16th - arrival of the second Polish contingent. 17th - departure of the last French contingent from Grossborn (blocks I and IV). The installation in the new camp took two days after readjustments and some modifications of the groups.
The Rabin affair resulted in some sanctions. Seven officers, whose attitude had been noticed to be rather violent, were sentenced to a few days in prison. On 25 May 1942, the Germans decided to apply sanctions against officers who had been taken prisoner following the escape of General Giraud. The first of these sanctions was the suppression and confiscation of the libraries which were not returned to us after their transfer from Grossborn.
It was at this time that the Germans began to pass around some notes offering volunteer officers work in Germany. These notes had little success. However, in his thesis, Abbé Flament mentions 158 volunteers in August 1942 and 174 in June 1943 (***). The Giraud sanctions were later relaxed slightly, as theatre rehearsals were allowed to resume, as were German lessons; but the confiscated books were not returned to us until the beginning of November 1942 and the general library was not reopened until 23 November. The whole summer of 1942 was thus marked by a clear reduction in the usual activities, which only gradually resumed. On 30 August we welcomed about 100 comrades from the Schubin camp.
The events of November 1942: the landing in North Africa and then the occupation of the free zone in France, were not marked in the camp by any particular events. At the beginning of December 1942, an information bulletin began to circulate in each room, summarising the news gathered by some comrades through clandestine radio sets, which we will discuss later. Very quickly, this information bulletin was known and much appreciated under the initials I.S.F.: translate: -Ils Sont Foutus! It was also at this time, exactly on 14 November, that the Mutual Aid Centre was able to set up the organisation of the collective kitchen we have been talking about. There is little to say about 1943 other than that it was a rather monotonous year, punctuated for the prisoners that we were by concerts, particularly successful theatrical performances (we will talk about them later) and a few exhibitions prepared by the various groups in the camp.
In July, a few privileged people enjoyed a few walks outside the camp, the principle of which had been taken up but which were stopped fairly quickly. In fact, they only lasted until the beginning of October.
On 22 August, two hundred and forty comrades arrived from the Schoken camp and brought new blood to the whole camp, and we'll talk about that too. In February 1944, we had the sorrow of losing our dean, Colonel Rousseau, whom we all remember with great fondness, who died of exhaustion in the hospital at Stargart. He was replaced by Colonel Malgorn, who, on several occasions had to give up his position as dean to colonels who were older than him and who came to us from camps partly grouped with ours. For example, in May 1944, two hundred and fifty new comrades arrived from the Montwy camp, including Colonel Finiels who took over the duties of dean before being sent to the Lübeck camp on 22 July 1944.
June 1944, the Normandy landings were announced by ISF on 6 June. This event is marked by us with a certain solemnity given to the call. This was the first time we adopted this form of demonstration. But the technique will be refined and from now on we will mark each stage of the war in this way. On 14 July, another form of demonstration was held in the large gymnasium, the Turnhalle, where an afternoon recreation session on the theme of French songs had been announced. Suddenly, three of our "female" stars, one dressed in blue, the others in white and red, stood in the middle of the stage. In the enthusiasm, the audience on its feet sang a vibrant Marseillaise, which was not at all appreciated by our guards, who were forced to leave the room in a rage. We expected sanctions. Perhaps the only one we got was the departure, eight days later, of Colonel Finiels, then dean, for the reprisal camp in Lübeck. The solemn appeals that we had experienced on the occasion of the Normandy landing were repeated twice during the month of August: first, on the occasion of the Provence landing on 15 August, but above all for the liberation of Paris on 25 August.
Henri Grellet recounts:
"The decor of the roll call is unchanging: a rectangular courtyard flanked on its length by four-storey buildings, on its width by the hall where religious services and sports games are held, and on the other side, by the offices of the Kommandantur. In the courtyard, in five rows, the 3,000 officers of the camp are lined up. "The ceremonial is the same: the two German officers in charge of the roll call, pass through the small gate of the camp, go towards the centre, at the meeting point of the diagonals. The French colonel puts us to attention; an exchange of salutes followed, then "Trompe la mort" and the "Frégate" (*) returned to the starting point, walking in the opposite direction on both sides of the rectangle where the verification of the numbers was done by groups of 100, put one after the other to "attention" before the passage of the controller. This control gives a well-organised  aspect to an operation that could have been martial: rows and ranks are not straight; the dress code is anything but regulation; the "attention" is not unanimous, the roll call is never-ending: it becomes laborious when the accounts are recapitulated, or when one checks in a room of the camp, in a cellar or in the infirmary the presence of a comrade because he is missing or there is one  too many.
On 25 August 1944, the radio announces the liberation of Paris. Everything is not yet clear, skirmishes are still going on, but the city is intact, the town hall is in full swing, and de Gaulle is walking down the Champs Elysées.
Maybe we anticipated the event, maybe the chronology was not respected; we act as if Paris had really been liberated. This stance is indicative of our impatience and our conviction that "they are screwed". "No order is given: it's not in the manners, only a word of order, transmitted by ISF, to present ourselves at the next call in uniform n° 1. This recommendation is very elliptical, without too many illusions because of the state of our wardrobe. Everyone does their best, finds the tramp's brush to shake out the clothes and shoes; belts that have always been camouflaged reappear; a few ties adorn the silhouette of the more posh. "The garment makes the monk, so that everyone is ready for the service, in his row and in his line; we all think we're at a military parade waiting for the general's visit; nobody moves. The spontaneity of the unanimous reactions is such that one is surprised by the order and silence. "Trompe la mort" and "la Frégate" arrive. They enter the square without the slightest thought, not yet aware of the immense news, and set off with their usual mechanical steps towards our colonel. The journey is long, a good fifty metres; it is enough to perceive that the atmosphere is strange; no noise, total silence .... Their gait is somehow affected.
The colonel was in his usual uniform. He stands at attention, as usual, then gives us the same command; without a hitch, we hear 3,000 heels click. Exchange of salutes. I would have liked to see the faces of our guards .... "At ease! " Rest is a command; the order is obeyed with the right heel in place, still immobile... Our two officers begin to suspect that something is going on, but what? Walking along the diagonal that leads them to the start of their inspection, their gait once again betrays their excitement: the debonair inspection is over! It wouldn't take them much to  shiver like a dog that senses an earthquake; they would turn back if they could. But they are stuck, so they go ahead. In front of each hundred, the same unanimous click, the same order, the same silence and 200 eyes that scan you. They feel disconcerted, undressed, ridiculous. What can they say? Nothing.
What can they do? Not much, except to press on. The "Frégate" no longer knows where to heel, She suffers the swell, tries to remain dignified, not to get on board, to straighten up without breaking too much: only the acceleration can keep her in relative balance. And each time, the new hundred to be tackled; this order to be faced, this silence, these heels which break it by slamming like a whip, impress him to the point that he forgets to return the salute once the square is passed... He doesn't know where he is anymore; he is catapulted from one group to the other, as if, with each new passage, he received 100 kicks in the ass.
Does he have the composure to notice that on the other side, diagonally, "Trompe la mort" almost collapses...The march of torment continues in the same frightening silence. What are they doing in this mess? What can they do? Counting is out of the question. Counting the devils is all the more worrying because they are motionless. But let them get the hell out of here, these devils! Let's open the doors for them and be done with it! "In daylight, they rush forward as in the night, without seeing anyone. The colonel, in the centre of the square, is their salvation, the lifeline. They make an effort to salute after the final clatter of their heels. Then there is panic. Run for it. How did they get away? How did they get out? At goose pace, under the boos! Nobody deigned to look at them. We waited to make a move until they had really panicked.
Run for it. How did they leave? How did they get out? At goose pace, under the booing! No one cared to look at them. We are waiting to make a move until they have really disappeared"(25)

More concisely, Félix Mallet de Loz also alludes to the same scene: "Until January 1945, our life was certainly the same as that of the other Oflags, a life that has since been recounted in length and breadth; nothing really extraordinary, apart from the Germans' surprise at the call of 25 August 1944.
That day, contrary to usual, the prisoner officers were assembled in the yard five minutes before the hour, all in line, dressed in their best uniforms. When the German officers arrived, there was absolute silence, everyone stood to attention. The counting guards were disoriented; they hurried their steps, lowered their gaze, they were overwhelmed, surrounded by this solemn and heavy silence from which they could not escape, a silence like an immense remorse. When they passed close to us, who looked at them, mute and stiff as justice, they looked like condemned men. In less than ten minutes it was all over. Like a malefactor, the captain saluted our colonel and quickly disappeared without understanding (he understood very quickly) the reason for this exceptional call. We had wanted to give a very symbolic behaviour to this ceremony, because we had just learned from our clandestine radios, those which every day gave us by ISF (they are screwed), the news of the situation of the belligerents, that, on the 24th, General Leclerc had entered Paris and that, on the 25th, the Germans had signed the end of the occupation of our capital, without any important damage"(26).
From that memorable ceremony onwards, we experienced what was for most of us the most painful six months of our captivity. All relations with our families were practically cut off.
This meant the almost total interruption of correspondence and the sending of parcels which represented the major part of our subsistence. Abbé Flament wrote: "The monthly weighings show a regularly descending curve. With rare exceptions, the prisoners who were going to leave for the West on 29 January 1945, had lost a third of their 1940 weight; a little less than a third for the small ones; more than a third for the largest tallest"(27).
On 15 October, the Germans decided to suspend the pay the prisoners used to get up to then in Camp Marks. As of 17 October, as a consequence, the Centre d'Entraide created a new service: a bank that would deposit the sums thus due to each of the Oflag prisoners, in order to allow them, on their return to France, to claim this debt. We will see what happened to this.
From the beginning of January 1945, there was increasing talk of the advance of Russian troops. If they were to approach the Oder, what would happen to the camp? What would the Germans do? There are three possible solutions: either the camp remains in place even if it is in the combat zone; - or it is evacuated by rail; or it is evacuated by road, which means that the 3,000 prisoners, on foot, will join the stream of refugees that we already see passing by on the roads near the camp.
This last solution (which seemed improbable, given the state of weakness in which we are) will gradually impose itself and the whole month of January will be occupied by the preparations of some and others to try to cope as well as possible with this new ordeal which awaits us. 29 January 1945, 0flag IIB ceased to exist. It was transformed into three columns of 900 to 1,000 officers each, set on the road to the West, with the first objective of a rapid crossing of the Oder. Only about fifty sick people remained in Arnswalde, who would be freed by the Russians a few days later.
So that was the setting, the décor of the cage in which 3,000 officers, a little more or a little less depending on the few departures and arrivals from other camps, evolved; 3,000 young, active officers in good physical, moral and intellectual shape who were part of France's elite and who, through no fault of their own, were condemned to a particular ordeal: idleness, emptiness, for a period of time that no one knows how long it would last!
The first few days were occupied by the interminable formalities of registration, delousing, and the endless queues that one had to make in order to receive one's meagre food, because the Germans demanded that each one present himself personally in the kitchen, with his bowl in order to receive his ration. Then, it was the distribution by room, the constitution or the regrouping of the kitchens; once again, the queues at the canteen to try to supplement, by the purchases which were then still possible, the insufficiencies of the official rations.
We have said above how the canteen-keeper paid with his head for the extraordinary and fraudulent profits he was able to make on us. But, at least, he took to the grave all our gratitude.
This was also the period of recovery. We were all more or less exhausted by a campaign which had been short but intense and by the journeys which had brought us from France to this Pomerania. So for a few days we tried to regain our strength. But, at this age, this physical recovery was usually very quick. The problem of settling in then arose. It is not easy to find the accommodations that will allow us to live in the promiscuity of 48 comrades crammed into such a small space! We had to divide up the tasks: a chef de chambre, generally the most senior in rank, a deputy, chefs de popotes. A rota had to be established, as there had to be an officer of the day for the chores ... etc. ...
It took a few days, not too bad, especially as it coincided with the great period of lies, more or less fed by the German propaganda itself: the captivity would be very short, and we would certainly be home before Christmas! But that only lasted for a while, and soon we realised what was in store for us: an existence with no other reference point than the two or three phone calls each day... the emptiness! How were we going to fill it ?