A harrowing memoir revealing the horrors that occurred within a little-known prison camp in Switzerland, by a POW who survived it. During WWII, 1,517 members of US aircrews were forced to seek asylum in Switzerland. Most neutral countries found reason to release US airmen from internment, but Switzerland took its obligations under the Hague Convention more seriously than most. The airmen were often incarcerated in local jails, then transferred to prison camps. The worst of these camps was Wauwilermoos, where at least 161 US airmen were sent for the honorable offense of escaping. To this hellhole came Dan Culler, the author of this incredible account of suffering and survival. Prisoners slept on lice-infested straw, were malnourished, and had virtually no hygiene facilities or access to medical care. But worse, the commandant of Wauwilermoos was a diehard Swiss Nazi. He allowed the mainly criminal occupants of the camp to torture and rape Dan Culler with impunity. After many months of such treatment, starving and ravaged by disease, he was finally aided by a British officer. Betrayal dominated his cruel fate—by the American authorities, by the Swiss, and, in a last twist, in a second planned escape that turned out to be a trap. But Dan Culler’s courage and determination kept him alive. Finally making it back home, he found he had been abandoned again. Political expediency meant there was no such place as Wauwilermoos. He had never been there, so he had never been a POW and didn‘t qualify for any POW benefits or medical or mental treatment for his many physical and emotional wounds. His struggle to make his peace with his past forms the final part of the story. An introduction and notes from military historian Rob Morris provide historical background and context, including recent efforts to recognize the suffering of those incarcerated in Switzerland and afford them full POW status.

In contrast to the plethora of works focusing on the tragic loss of human lives during the First World War, little is known about the more hopeful realities of thousands of prisoners of war from Britain, France, Germany and Belgium who were sent to Switzerland from 1916. This book explores the everyday lives of these prisoners and their impact on Switzerland. Internees were warmly welcomed by local people and given education, training and employment. Leading relatively free lives, they were able to engage in leisure activities and develop new relationships. However, they also contributed to the country's economy, helping to keep Swiss tourism alive at a time when businesses were struggling and alleviating Switzerland's labour shortage as Swiss men were called-up to defend their borders and preserve the country's neutrality. Drawing on a wide range of sources from official records to magazines and postcards, Susan Barton provides an absorbing account of the social and cultural history of internment in Switzerland.

Surviving the Great War is the first detailed analysis of Australians in German captivity in WW1. By placing the hardships of prisoners of war in a broader social and military content, this book adds a new dimension to the national wartime experience and challenges popular representations of Australia's involvement in the First World War.

In contrast to the plethora of works focusing on the tragic loss of human lives during the First World War, little is known about the more hopeful realities of thousands of prisoners of war from Britain, France, Germany and Belgium who were sent to Switzerland from 1916. This book explores the everyday lives of these prisoners and their impact on Switzerland. Internees were warmly welcomed by local people and given education, training and employment. Leading relatively free lives, they were able to engage in leisure activities and develop new relationships. However, they also contributed to the country's economy, helping to keep Swiss tourism alive at a time when businesses were struggling and alleviating Switzerland's labour shortage as Swiss men were called-up to defend their borders and preserve the country's neutrality. Drawing on a wide range of sources from official records to magazines and postcards, Susan Barton provides an absorbing account of the social and cultural history of internment in Switzerland.

 This is the second volume of a two-volume work entitled The British Army on Bloomsday. It contains detailed explanations of the military allusions in James Joyce’s groundbreaking novel, Ulysses, as well as an in-depth look at the two principal, fictional military characters: Major Brian Tweedy and his daughter, Marion (Molly Bloom). Also included are chapters on the minor military characters and personages that appear in the novel, the Royal Dublin Fusiliers (Tweedy’s old regiment), Gibraltar of the nineteenth century, and the British Army in Ireland on Bloomsday. The appendices contain period photographs of 1880s Gibraltar (where Molly Bloom spent her formative years) and barracks and other army facilities in Late-Victorian Dublin. While the first volume focuses on the British Army, this volume, The British Army in Ulysses, narrows in on the novel. The chapters on Molly Bloom and Major Tweedy present new findings that will likely provoke controversy among Joyceans. From the Introduction: James Joyce spent a good deal of his youth, and all his university years, in a British Army garrison city: Dublin. Throughout that period, 4,500 to 5,500 soldiers were quartered in that city of 250,000 residents. Barracks and former barracks were situated all over “dear, dirty Dublin” and probably one-in-eleven of the young men out in town during the evening and late afternoon was in uniform. The British Army was a major part of Dublin life and so it appears throughout Ulysses in characters, places, and references to wars and battles. Additionally, Joyce worked on Ulysses between 1912 and 1922. During that period, two wars were fought in the Balkans in 1913, and a "Great War" raged throughout Europe from 1914 through 1918. These conflicts, particularly the Great War, certainly influenced Joyce and his writing. As noted by Greg Winston in Joyce and Militarism, “it is not surprising that in Joyce's writings the martial element is frequent and ubiquitous.”