My Uncle Lou was a Plutonowy (corporal) in the Polish Army, survived the Blitzkrieg, was captured and survived mainly because he had been a butcher/sausage maker pre-war. He and other prisoners were farmed out--literally-- to farmers to assist them in food production for the Reich. The slave laborers would then cajole the farmer for more food ("We could make you such delicious sausage, but we are so weak. If only we had a little more food....") He at other times was assigned to construction details--with a gleam in his eye he used to tell us how they'd mis-mix the concrete so that they would stir and stir, but it just wouldn't congeal.
Years later he called me and was very upset. It seems that the German Embassy was trying to contact him and he didn't want any part of "those dam' Nazis!" Turns out, they were trying to pay him reparations for the labor he performed under duress during the war!
