Image: The main buil­ding of the Inter­na­tio­nal Tra­cing Ser­vice (ITS) in Bad Arol­sen built in 1952. Copy­right: Inter­na­tio­nal Tra­cing Ser­vice (ITS), pho­to: Andre­as Greiner-Napp“

Table of Con­tents
The Inter­na­tio­nal Tra­cing Ser­vices (ITS) as a uni­que archi­ve  |  Ori­g­ins  |  Mis­si­on  |  Bri­tish-Indi­an Sol­diers at the ITS  |  Memo­ry and memo­ri­a­li­sa­ti­on, inter­ment and exhu­ma­ti­on  |  Hid­den tran­script  |  The domain of work and non-work  | Biblio­gra­phy

The International Tracing Services (ITS) as a unique archive

This post brings to atten­ti­on the exis­tence of an inter­na­tio­nal archi­ve in the heart of Euro­pe, lar­ge­ly over­loo­ked by South Asi­an rese­ar­chers working on WWII, who rou­ti­ne­ly visit the India Office Libra­ry (Bri­tish Libra­ry), the Natio­nal Archi­ves of India, The Natio­nal Archi­ves in Kew, UK, and other regio­nal archi­ves enga­ging with the histo­ry of the Bri­tish Raj. The (ITS) hol­dings com­ple­ment the afo­re­men­tio­ned sources both quan­ti­ta­tively and qua­li­ta­tively if one is wri­ting the histo­ry of Bri­tish-Indi­an sol­diers and civi­li­ans. Its spe­cia­li­ty lies in giving his­to­ri­ans access to indi­vi­du­al desti­nies of South Asi­an sol­diers, who ente­red the regis­ters of Ger­man offi­ci­al­dom as an ens­laved mass, ser­ving a spe­ci­fic pur­po­se in cap­ti­vi­ty, and the civi­li­ans who endu­red in the vaga­ries of the Third Reich.


As ear­ly as 1943, the Allied Forces trans­for­med their Depart­ment of Inter­na­tio­nal Affairs into a Tra­cing Bureau in Lon­don for tra­cing and regis­tering miss­ing per­sons. The loca­ti­on of the ITS moved from Lon­don to Ver­sailles, on to Frank­furt am Main and final­ly to Bad-Arol­sen in Janu­ary 1946. Bad Arol­sen, a small town in Hesse/Germany, was cho­sen becau­se of its cen­tral loca­ti­on bet­ween the four occu­pa­ti­on zones and becau­se its infra­struc­tu­re was still int­act after WWII.


The ITS has a four­fold mis­si­on: docu­men­ta­ti­on, rese­arch, infor­ma­ti­on and com­me­mo­ra­ti­on. The initi­al mis­si­on in the imme­dia­te post-war years was huma­ni­ta­ri­an, aimed at hel­ping the kin and the vic­tims trace each other and hel­ping sur­vi­vors in their reha­bi­li­ta­ti­on. Gra­du­al­ly, it deve­lo­ped into a store­house for posteri­ty. This invol­ved the pre­ser­va­ti­on and pro­duc­tion of docu­ments rela­ted to seve­ral types of Nazi Par­ty orga­ni­sa­ti­ons and their actions, as well as tho­se rela­ted to vic­tims of Nazism. An important part of this was the regis­tra­ti­on of the per­se­cu­ted for­eig­ners and Ger­mans ali­ke by Ger­man public insti­tu­ti­ons, social wel­fa­re agen­ci­es (Sozi­al­amt) and com­pa­nies from 1939–47. The ITS thus gathe­red lar­ge amounts of appro­xi­m­ate­ly 30 mil­li­on docu­ments from con­cen­tra­ti­on camps, ghet­tos, pri­sons, labour camps, sana­to­ria, infir­ma­ries, asyl­ums and later DP camps. The docu­ments were gene­ra­ted in the form of fil­led out ques­ti­on­n­aires on death, birth, mar­ria­ge, divorce, hos­pi­tal stays, and sana­to­ri­um, asyl­um or DP camp admis­si­on cards. Other docu­ments included labour cards, medi­cal cards or health insu­rance cards. This led to the gene­ra­ti­on of pro­files of per­se­cu­ted indi­vi­du­als across natio­na­li­ties and regions.

Anna Meier-Osinski among the correspondance files of the International Tracing Service
Figu­re 1: Anna Mei­er-Osin­ski, Head of Tra­cing Inves­ti­ga­ti­ons into Nazi Vic­tims Branch, among the cor­re­spon­dence files of the ITS. About three mil­li­on cor­re­spon­dence files are kept in the archi­ves of the ITS. They com­pri­se cor­re­spon­dence bet­ween the ITS and offices, sur­vi­vors of Nazi per­se­cu­ti­on and their fami­ly mem­bers.
Copy­right: Inter­na­tio­nal Tra­cing Ser­vice (ITS),
Pho­to: Uwe Zucchi

Sin­ce 2015, the archi­ve has gra­du­al­ly been publi­shing an incre­asing num­ber of its hol­dings on its Digi­tal Coll­ec­tion Online plat­form, which pro­vi­des small insights into the archi­ve at

Today, the archi­ve helps scho­lars of the world in rese­ar­ching the ways in which one of the most well-orga­nis­ed and smooth­ly func­tio­ning sta­tes, name­ly Nazi Ger­ma­ny, ope­ra­ted in com­mit­ting cri­mes against huma­ni­ty. The ITS allows us to get under­neath the skin of a cri­mi­nal sta­te and lays bare how the per­pe­tra­tors’ mind ope­ra­ted during the war years, by pre­ser­ving the records of the pre­ro­ga­ti­ve sta­te. Simul­ta­neous­ly, it also gene­ra­ted its own records in the post-war era, which fil­led infor­ma­tio­nal gaps, espe­ci­al­ly in the chao­tic peri­od from 1943–4, when the Ger­man land­scape was fil­led with DPs and sta­te­l­ess people.

British-Indian Soldiers at the ITS

The first clue to the pre­sence of Bri­tish-Indi­an sol­diers, the lar­gest cate­go­ry in the ITS cata­lo­gue, is the Allied Order of Decem­ber 6, 1945. It ins­truc­ted all civi­li­an aut­ho­ri­ties of Ger­ma­ny to con­duct exhaus­ti­ve sear­ches for docu­ments and infor­ma­ti­on con­cer­ning mili­ta­ry and civi­li­an per­sons belon­ging to the United King­dom sin­ce 1939 and to sub­mit their fin­dings imme­dia­te­ly to their respec­ti­ve com­mand of occu­pa­ti­on forces. This Bri­tish high­way to the abo­de of Bri­tish-Indi­an vic­tims and sur­vi­vors of the Third Reich led me to rich evi­dence for the histo­ry of insti­tu­tio­nal remem­brance of Bri­tish-Indi­an sub­jects in the heart of Ger­ma­ny. The very estab­lish­ment of the ITS chal­len­ged  Nazi know­ledge pro­duc­tion and rever­sed it by con­duc­ting tar­ge­ted sear­ches into what Nazis wan­ted to hide or des­troy in the last years of war.

The available hol­dings deal with the iden­ti­fi­ca­ti­on, enu­me­ra­ti­on, regis­tra­ti­on and docu­men­ta­ti­on of Bri­tish-Indi­ans as sol­diers, civi­li­ans and dis­pla­ced per­sons. An over­whel­ming pro­por­ti­on of the­se hol­dings con­sist of infor­ma­ti­on about pri­soners of war, dead or ali­ve, from a host of Sta­lags (POW camps) Arbeits­kom­man­dos (labour camps), Laza­ret­te (sick bays) and sani­ta­ria or men­tal asyl­ums. The­re are about 383 scan­ned images under Attri­bu­te IND, which con­sist of lists of sol­diers in gra­ves or ceme­ter­ies (with details such as the reason of death, date of birth and death, and gra­ve loca­ti­on), labour camps and fac­to­ries that housed them, pay­ment regis­ters, and so on. The­re is ano­ther set of 36 scan­ned images under Attri­bu­te Per­so­na­li­en IND, which deal with 5 civi­li­ans (among them stu­dents, house­wi­ves, DPs, sea­men, civi­li­ans) and births and deaths of child­ren born during the war years. As far as Bri­tish Indi­an sol­diers are con­cer­ned, the ITS coll­ec­tion is cloa­ked in icy silen­ces when it comes to the spo­ken words of the per­se­cu­ted. So, we prac­ti­cal­ly have no ego docu­ments or arte­facts such as dia­ries, tes­ti­mo­nies or let­ters from the sur­vi­vors to give us a peek into their sub­jec­ti­ve world.

A striking fea­ture of the lists is that they show the  spa­ti­al spread and pre­sence of the cap­ti­ves, despi­te their rela­tively small num­bers, a pre­sence, which was mark­ed by their erasure/disappearance/death. The­re was no escape from the omni­pre­sent thre­at of death during war years.  This appli­ed even more so to cap­ti­ves. If we bare­ly take death records of the cap­ti­ves as an indi­ca­tor, their geo­gra­phi­cal spread is exhaus­ti­ve. Their corp­ses could be found in remo­te vil­la­ges and towns such as Ans­bach, Fues­sen, Bad-Neu­stadt, Bad- Rei­chen­hall, Bischoefs­gruen, Berch­tes­ga­den, Oel­k­ofen, Gar­misch, Regens­burg, Ober­ro­ning, Wes­ter­tim­ke, Her­born, Darm­stadt, Bre­mer­voer­de, Nürn­berg  and Starn­berg, Augs­burg, Koe­nigs­brueck, Gar­misch-Par­ten­kir­chen, Wet­te­ring, Lau­ter­ho­fen, Ful­da, Gies­sen, Wies­ba­den, Wes­ter­tim­ke, Darm­stadt and Sont­ho­fen as iso­la­ted or cluster-graves.

Memory and memorialisation, interment and exhumation

Pri­soners of war sel­dom speak out, decea­sed pri­soners of war even less so. But the cul­tu­ral poli­tics of interment/knowledge/power, as it was play­ed out over their mor­tal remains, left clues about the con­te­sta­ti­on over their impe­ri­al owner­ship. In the buri­al ‘rites’, if one may call them rites at all, it beca­me gra­du­al­ly clear as to which empire lor­ded over who­se corp­se and who­se corp­se was disow­ned by both. The Bri­tish and Ger­man empires locked horns once again in the post-war years amid the corp­ses of their cap­ti­ves on the batt­le field of memo­ry and memo­ri­a­li­sa­ti­on, inter­ment and exhu­ma­ti­on. So, the­re were the­se corp­ses and the­re were tho­se corp­ses. The­re were some who­se pre­sence was noted on a shred of paper stam­ped “gra­ve registration”.

The­se could be the very ordi­na­ry pri­soners of war, neither defi­ni­tively on this nor on that side. Then the­re were some others that lay buried in mili­ta­ry or civi­li­an ceme­ter­ies with gra­ve num­bers and per­so­nal details recor­ded on the cer­ti­fi­ca­tes. The­se were pos­si­bly the Indi­an Legi­on sol­diers. And then the­re were tho­se corp­ses that were exhu­med by the ITS team, brought to a war ceme­tery in Ber­lin, or trans­por­ted to a more appro­pria­te loca­ti­on. The­re they were inter­red once again, this time with full sta­te hono­urs. Their mar­tyr­dom and memo­ry was etched in stone for posteri­ty. They secu­red a place in the cul­tu­ral histo­ry of memo­ri­a­li­sa­ti­on as a reward for their loyal­ty to the Bri­tish Empire till the bit­ter end.

In the Thomp­so­ni­an sen­se, then, the ITS hol­dings enable his­to­ri­ans to res­cue Bri­tish Indi­an sol­diers, dead or ali­ve, irre­spec­ti­ve of their vir­tu­es and vices, from the con­de­s­cen­si­on of posteri­ty (Thomp­son, 1980: 12), as twice colo­nis­ed peasants in uni­forms, as cul­tu­ral­ly and soci­al­ly expo­sed to a cos­mo­po­li­tan envi­ron­ment behind the bar­bed wire, which taught them sur­vi­val stra­te­gies that they knew litt­le of when they left home on an uncer­tain journey.

Alt­hough usual­ly inher­ent to know­ledge gene­ra­ti­on for posteri­ty, some of the hol­dings none­thel­ess betray an ele­ment of com­pul­si­on ‘from abo­ve’, (this time from the “Allied”), to report the dead, sur­vi­ving, or miss­ing per­sons. The offi­ci­al reluc­tance on the part of the Ger­mans to gene­ra­te or fur­nish such docu­ments can be tra­ced in some ins­tances. This is pro­ven by the pre­sence of gra­ve cer­ti­fi­ca­tes that were pro­du­ced at a much later date. To give one exam­p­le- on one ins­tance the cer­ti­fi­ca­ti­on from a civil func­tion­a­ry reads at the end of a docu­ment: “I cer­ti­fy to the best of my know­ledge and con­sci­ence that the requi­red infor­ma­ti­on given abo­ve is the cor­rect and com­ple­te repro­duc­tion of available docu­ments at hand”. The docu­ment is stam­ped for the year 1950, though the actu­al dates of deaths were much ear­lier (1944 and 1945).  Thus, as can be seen in the image below, the­re was reluc­tance in report­ing deaths as can be dis­cer­ned from the fact that such sworn docu­ments were fur­nis­hed years later.

Death Certificate of four British-Indian soldiers contained in the Archive of the International Tracing Service
Figu­re 2: Death Cer­ti­fi­ca­te of four Bri­tish-Indi­an sol­diers. The cer­ti­fi­ca­te was issued on Janu­ary 20, 1950 for deaths that occur­red in late 1944 and ear­ly 1945.
Copy of, in con­for­mi­ty with the ITS Archi­ves, Bad Arol­sen, Archiv­num­mer: 5724, attri­bu­te IND 192. Image cour­te­sy The ITS Archi­ves, Bad Arolsen.

Hidden transcript

What was recor­ded and pre­ser­ved wil­lingly or unwil­lingly at the ITS, might fill any his­to­ri­an with a sen­se of void, the loss of spo­ken word, of non-ver­bal exch­an­ges, of ges­tu­re and gaze. Nevert­hel­ess, if one goes with the sen­si­bi­li­ties of anthro­po­lo­gists and ever­y­day his­to­ri­ans such as James Scott, Car­lo Ginz­berg and Alf Lüd­tke, one might be able to find hid­den tran­scripts (Scott:1990), the off-stage ever­y­day life, and attempt to recrea­te it through the small clues and hints that oppres­sors’ records have left behind. The fol­lo­wing exam­p­le illus­tra­tes this: It is taken from the lists of decea­sed cap­ti­ves. Despi­te the signi­fi­cant geo­gra­phi­cal spread of cap­ti­ves’ gra­ves, I found clues to omis­si­ons, wilful or other­wi­se. Some cases were repor­ted as late as 1947, 1948 or even 1951. Colum­ns such as place of birth and death and reason of death were eit­her left blank or noted unknown in seve­ral forms. Rene­wed sear­ches were con­duc­ted, which resul­ted in Sup­ple­men­ta­ry Lists of Gra­ves. Fresh sites were dug up by search teams, corp­ses were exhu­med and their per­so­nal details added to regis­tered deaths sub­se­quent­ly.  One such Sup­ple­men­ta­ry List of Gra­ves repor­ted a coll­ec­ti­ve gra­ve of 10 cap­ti­ves in July 1949. They had been dead sin­ce Sep­tem­ber. 1944. It tur­ned out that 9 of them died in a sin­gle air raid and the one remai­ning suc­cum­bed to his abdo­mi­nal mem­bra­ne infec­tion a week after the air raid.

Supplementary List of Graves from Darmstadt contained in the Archive of the International Tracing Service
Figu­re 3: Sup­ple­men­ta­ry List of Gra­ves from Darm­stadt.
Copy of in con­for­mi­ty with the ITS Archi­ves, Bad Arol­sen, 27.11.2014, Archiv­num­mer 5724, attri­bu­te IND 234. Image cour­te­sy The ITS Archi­ves, Bad Arolsen.

The other nume­ri­cal­ly rich, but spa­ti­al­ly con­cen­tra­ted cate­go­ry of  cap­ti­ves con­sists of forced labour around  Sax­o­ny, Rhein­land Pala­ti­na­te and parts of Baden Wuert­tem­berg as shown in the image below.

 A page from the list of captive British-Indian labour employed in an aluminium factory in Bitterfeld contained in the International Tracing Service archives
Figu­re 4: A page from the list of cap­ti­ve Bri­tish-Indi­an labour employ­ed in an alu­mi­ni­um fac­to­ry in Bit­ter­feld, a coun­ty of Sax­o­ny-Anhalt.
Copy of, in con­for­mi­ty with the ITS Archi­ves, Bad Arol­sen, 27.11.2014, Archiv­num­mer 5724, attri­bu­te IND 300. Image cour­te­sy The ITS Archi­ves, Bad Arolsen.

The domain of work and non-work

What did ever­y­day life mean to a cap­ti­ve? What was the domain of his work and non-work? To get a sen­se of how the ever­y­day forms of domi­na­ti­on and sub­or­di­na­ti­on work­ed, we need to go to local sites inha­bi­ted by Indi­an cap­ti­ves to obser­ve how Indi­an offi­cers acted on the ground to con­vert cap­ti­ves for the cau­se of the Indi­an Legi­on and per­sua­de them to join it. “The POWs were often ill trea­ted. It beca­me a cus­tom to make the pri­soner visit ‘the con­ver­si­on camp’ at Laca­n­au whe­re he was shown the advan­ta­ges of a legionary’s life. Tho­se who decli­ned were pres­su­ri­sed by other means to com­ply” (Oes­ter­held 2015). Though such sub­jec­ti­ve nar­ra­ti­ves can­not be found at the ITS, I found some pay­ment ent­ries of the IG Far­ben, a Ger­man enter­pri­se, which allow us a glim­pse into what work might have meant to the cap­ti­ve. The­se regis­ters show a sche­du­le of 8 hours a day, 6 days a week until libe­ra­ti­on in mid1945 for half a Reichs­mark per day. Hacken­holz, who work­ed on the histo­ry of IG Far­ben, sug­gests that even Rus­si­an cap­ti­ves recei­ved bet­ter wages than the Indi­an ones. Indi­an pri­soners recei­ved bet­ween 20 to 60 % of a regu­lar West European’s wage and the east Euro­pean pri­soner stood some­whe­re in bet­ween (Hacken­holz: 2004).

All cap­ti­ves were indis­pensable labour for the war indus­try and their loss was detri­men­tal to war effort. Not all cap­ti­ves could remain fit for work in the long run. In Anna­burg the­re were 6 repor­ted deaths due to lung infec­tion, sui­ci­de, heart attack, abdo­mi­nal dise­a­ses, and simi­lar unna­tu­ral reasons. Else­whe­re, deaths were cau­sed by depres­si­on, schi­zo­phre­nia, sui­ci­de, exhaus­ti­on, ner­vous break-down and men­tal ill­ness in iso­la­ted locations.

Though the affec­ti­ve domain was all encom­pas­sing, its traces are more chal­len­ging to find. The ITS records are domi­na­ted by loo­ming silen­ces and era­su­re. I have reli­ed on  snip­pets from the Sicher­heits­dienst (SD) reports, memoirs and judi­cial records to recrea­te the world of cap­ti­vi­ty, which have been published else­whe­re (Joshi: 2015). Here I will cite just one illus­tra­ti­ve exam­p­le, name­ly the fort­night­ly reports of the SD on the  mood and  mora­le of the gene­ral public, com­pi­led and published by Heinz Bober­ach (Bober­ach: 1984). The SD obser­vers were sta­te appoin­ted ‘silent mass obser­vers’, who con­stant­ly had their fin­ger on the pul­se of the ordi­na­ry peo­p­le, inclu­ding the cap­ti­ves. They recor­ded dis­loyal­ty, dis­grun­tle­ment and grumblings among the popu­la­ti­on so that appro­pria­te mea­su­res could be taken for the smooth func­tio­ning of the sys­tem. Unli­ke the quan­ti­ta­ti­ve approach of the ITS, this SD obser­va­ti­on is full of vivid details on South Asi­an cap­ti­ves’ deport­ment, beha­viour, and atti­tu­des. The­se are the most colourful examp­les in which power hol­ders reve­a­led their atti­tu­des, bia­ses, hope and fears. The SD report filed on 20 March 1944, starts with the fol­lo­wing observation: 

The expe­ri­ence with Indi­an cap­ti­ves is as nega­ti­ve as with Bri­tish POWs. They are unsui­ta­ble for indus­tri­al and pro­fes­sio­nal use and can only be employ­ed eit­her in dig­ging the earth (e.g. for air raid shel­ters) or as hel­pers in muni­ti­ons firms. Their per­for­mance is so much below the lowest Ger­man avera­ge that the firms soon look for repla­ce­ment. They cate­go­ri­cal­ly refu­se to work and invo­ke the Gen­e­va Con­ven­ti­on. Even the request to their super­vi­sors to exert an edu­ca­tio­nal influence is dis­missed with the remark that any puni­ti­ve mea­su­res would be use­l­ess. If one con­fi­nes them, they have the opti­on of slee­ping in arrest. Depri­ving them of food simi­lar­ly brings them no gre­at harm as they are abun­dant­ly sup­pli­ed with Red Cross par­cels and food packets from home. This pas­si­ve atti­tu­de of the super­vi­sors extends to the enti­re con­tin­gent. Half of the con­tin­gent just looks on while the other half digs the earth. Rather than kee­ping them­sel­ves warm by working, they pre­fer to free­ze. They keep their hands per­pe­tual­ly in their trou­sers’ pockets and cover their heads with shawls in such a man­ner that only their eyes and noses are visi­ble. Tho­se who work pick just one-third of soil in their sho­vel of what an avera­ge worker would (Bober­ach 1984: 6424–5).

While the SD obser­va­tions con­demn Indi­an cap­ti­ves as shir­kers and a finan­cial lia­bi­li­ty on the Reich, the pay­ment regis­ters of Fas­er­werk Mühl­an­ger, sup­pli­ed to the ITS team tell ano­ther sto­ry. One pay­ment list of 17 cap­ti­ves shows that they work­ed on a Sun­day 11.7.43 (Pay­ment list of Indi­an POWs, The IG Far­ben lists show that one Kaly­an Singh work­ed for 10 hours per day for 2 weeks and 10 hours per day for 9 days in the rest of the two weeks in Febru­ary 1945. This made it 230 hours in 28 days for which he got paid only 34 RM. The avera­ge month­ly pay­ment for others was 22/23 RM. Ano­ther Karak Baha­dur work­ed 10 hours per day, twice even 11 hours for the enti­re month of Febru­ary 1945 and recei­ved 48 RMs for a total of 290 hours, one Dhan Baha­dur work­ed for up to 12 hours, 5 days in week, 60 hours per week in the second week of Janu­ary, ear­ning 36 RMs for the month, for 245 hours of work. Why were they working so hard in the bit­ter cold of Febru­ary 1945? Ear­ning more would hard­ly have been an incen­ti­ve as they were paid in cou­pons that were exch­an­ged for food and for­bidden exch­an­ge invi­ted fur­ther punishments.

Silen­ces and era­su­res not­wi­th­stan­ding, the ITS hol­dings have a uni­que pur­po­se and value. They pro­vi­de us with lists of Bri­tish-Indi­an sol­diers in lar­ge num­bers, with  names and iden­ti­fi­ca­ti­on details that might be dif­fi­cult to find in other type of records gene­ra­ted by Nazi offi­ci­al­dom such as decrees, com­mands and ins­truc­tions from the For­eign office. The same holds true for  media accounts, which most­ly repor­ted the spec­ta­cu­lar and news­wor­t­hy to crea­te fear and alarm in order to ensu­re com­pli­ance, or  pro­pa­gan­da mate­ri­al that was more of a pro­jec­tion rather than the rea­li­ty of the camp uni­ver­se. The ITS hol­dings cover an exhaus­ti­ve ran­ge of details con­nec­ted with iden­ti­fia­ble indi­vi­du­als that his­to­ri­ans and rese­ar­chers can fol­low up by loo­king at com­ple­men­ta­ry sub­jec­ti­ve docu­ments and other ins­truc­ti­ve mate­ri­al in order to wri­te a histo­ry of the ever­y­day life of Bri­tish-Indi­an pri­soners in the Third Reich.


Bober­ach, Heinz, Mel­dun­gen aus dem Reich 1938–45. SD Berich­te zu Inlands­fra­gen vom 27. Dezem­ber-20 1943 bis April 1944. Band 16. Herr­sching, 1984.

Hacken­holz, Dirk, Die Eleck­tro­che­mi­schen­wer­ke in Bit­ter­feld 1914–45: Ein Stand­ort der IG Far­ben. Müns­ter: Lit Ver­lag, 2004.

Joshi, Van­da­na, “Shreds from the Lives of South Asi­an Pri­soners of War in Stamm­la­gers, Arbeits­kom­man­dos, Laza­retts and Gra­ves During World War II (1939–45)”. Süd­asi­en­chro­nik 5 (2015): S. 144–168.‌/18452/9148/145.pdf?‌sequence=1&is‌Allowed=y

Oes­ter­held, Joa­chim, “The Last Chap­ter of the Indi­an Legi­on”. Süd­asi­en­chro­nik 5 (2015): pp. S. 120–143. https://‌

Scott, James, Domi­na­ti­on and the Arts of Resis­tance: Hid­den Tran­scripts. Yale: Yale Uni­ver­si­ty Press, 1990.

Thomp­son, E.P., The Making of the Eng­lish Working Class. New York: Pan­the­on Books, 1964.

Van­da­na Joshi, Sri Ven­ka­tes­wa­ra Col­lege, Uni­ver­si­ty of Delhi

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