"The Victor Who Knew Too Much"
by Rita Widmer
Dedicated to professor/advisor Dr. Edward N. Peterson and his friend who
lived this story. Also dedicated to all who suffered through the
concentration camps. Also to all my online WENN friends who are Jewish.
Dr. Peterson lived in Germany after the Second World War as a member of the
U.S Army when they occupied it, and spied on the Russians after the war.
During the war he was stationed in France, and spent his first days at the
frontlines on Christmas Day, 1944. He is married to a German lady who grew up
during the time of Hitler's rule. He has written six books about his
experiences including a book called Limits of Hitler.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Rupert Holmes, AMC, and the actors who
play them. The story idea belongs partly to Dr. Peterson, and partly to me.
**********************************************************************
Victor sat at the bar with a beer in his hand. He hated playing Jonathan
Arnold; but knew he was doing very important work for England. He thought
about the task facing him tomorrow. He was scheduled to tour a concentration
camp. He took another drink from the stein and thought about
everything he had heard about them, but it didn't help.
Very little was known about the camps. But as an American traitor, the
Germans were willing to show off their higher plan for society. It was made
clear to Victor that none of what he saw was to make it to the airwaves, but
that was fine with him. He had other plans for what he learned.
Little did they know that he would be giving the information to the English.
He ignored the constant thought that if anything he learned tomorrow leaked
out it could mean a slow, painful death for him.
He finished his drink, and paid for it. A very dangerous project; somehow
made easier by the thoughts of Betty suddenly filling his mind.
***********************************
Victor's alarm went off, and he groggily stepped out of bed. He was not
looking forward to this. There was a knock on the door, and he went over to
open it. In the doorway stood an SS man.
"Are you ready yet, sir?" asked the man.
"Just a few more minutes," Victor answered. At least he spoke English.
The train trip was long and hard. Victor's legs were too long to fit anywhere
comfortably. He had been warned not to ask any questions. So he decided to
take a nap.
The train came to a stop, and they were finally there. After they got off the
train the SS man disappeared. Quickly he was replaced by a new SS.
"Welcome, sir," said the man in German. Victor just nodded in agreement.
They drove off in a car, and a half an hour later they arrived at the camp.
A tower loomed over them, and barbed wire surrounded the camp.
His driver talked with another SS man, as Victor waited in the car. He looked
around; mentally noting the guard dogs, and the soldiers carrying guns.
He was interrupted by the new SS officer, "I hope today will bring you
valuable information on our camp. We will show you all the important places."
"Thank you," said Victor in reply.
They first place they visited was the living quarters of the workers. The
barracks were empty as everyone was out in the fields. Bunk beds built three
units high lined the walls. The bedding was made out of hay, with only one
sheet. There was no privacy for anyone.
Most of the tour was only some Nazis offices, and nothing worthwhile, but at
the end of the tour he was taken out to the fields. He had only seen a few
prisoners along the way. Ahead of him was a ditch for something he didn't
know, with hundreds, maybe thousands of prisoners working in it. Men and
women of all ages were nothing but skin and bones; their clothing hanging
loosely on them.
"Would you like to see something?" asked the SS man. Victor didn't answer,
and the man took it as a yes. The man flicked his cigarette over the fence.
"Come here!," the man yelled at one of the prisoners. The prisoner was barely
over twenty years old, if that. "Go fetch my cigarette
over there on the other side of the fence."
The boy looked at Victor for help. He hoped that the man could do something.
Ever since he got there he had never seen someone out of uniform before. He
knew that no matter what he did he would die. Victor wanted to help, but knew
that it would kill them both, and none of the information would ever get to England.
The boy headed towards the fence. A shot rang out and the boy flew up against
the fence, dead. The man said aloud, "dumb Jew, should have known better then
to try and escape."
Victor was surprised at the cruelty of the statement. How could anyone do
such a thing to another human? He was shown out of the camp, and headed back
to Berlin. That night he tried to reach his correspondent, but he was nowhere
to be found. Victor tried to reach someone higher up, but he didn't get a
response back. He tried to sleep, but kept having nightmares of the scene.
He didn't know it then, but his own life was just as much in danger as the
boy he saw killed that afternoon .
*********************************
The next morning, he headed to work to find his boss waiting in his office.
He knew something was wrong when he also saw two men standing next to the
desk.
"Victor Comstock, welcome to Berlin. That is your real name, isn't it?" said
the boss.
"No, sir. It is Jonathan Arnold," Victor replied, hoping he could convince
the man.
"Calling me a liar. Not a good thing to do. You better behave, or your
correspondent will be killed."
Victor didn't say anything; too afraid of what would happen. The boss
continued to enjoy Victor's silence. "We have a job for you to do back in the
United States. Just like you we have a 'traitor' to the Third Reich. You
used to work at a place called WENN, correct?"
"There are no traitors at WENN, sir. They have nothing to do with me. Leave
them alone."
"Again, Mr. Comstock. One time I can deal with, but twice is too much. These
two men will just have to teach you a lesson."
The two men came at him, and Victor tried to use his boxing knowledge, but he
wasn't strong enough to take both. When he came to he couldn't remember
anything that happened.
He was on the phone, talking with Betty. Her voice was soothing to him, and
seemed to be reaching some part of him that he had almost lost. He hoped she
would be able to save him.
He walked down the corridor at WENN, just being there soothed him. It had been
a long time since he was there, and he missed it very much. He walked into
Studio A. Betty stood there, and with happiness and relief pouring over him
he spoke first, "Hello Betty. I'm home."
THE END