What's in a Name

Chapter 4

Now Wait a Doggone Minute!

a/n sorry for the delay in posting. I had to give my back a rest. And thank you to Sgt. Hakeswill for her wonderful beta work!

Once Helga realized the Gestapo was not about to knock down her door to search for a page that no one realized was missing, she relaxed and contacted the Kommandant. The staff meeting was postponed until the following afternoon, in order to give Helga time to pick up the copies of the blueprints.

An ebullient Klink, monocle in place and swagger stick under his arm, presided over the staff meeting, while Helga took copious notes in shorthand.

The camp engineer, a dour-looking captain whose primary goal in life was to keep breathing, examined the blueprints in depth, while the rest of the staff waited impatiently for his confirmation that the expansion could commence. They all hoped he would recommend that the expansion could continue indefinitely, thereby ensuring the cushy and relatively safe assignment they all craved.

"Uh uh." The engineer, blueprint in hand, walked over to Klink's window, opened the shutters and gazed out at the compound. At this time of day, it was filled with prisoners exercising, talking or doing laundry. "Hmmm." He turned the copy sideways, then back again the other way.

Helga paused, not sure quite sure how to process these odd sounds into shorthand. Taking a break, she leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs and waited, unintentionally diverting the attention of the other men in the room away from the engineer at the window.

Finally, Klink coughed, unable to bear the suspense any longer.

Hearing the sound, the engineer turned. "Question, Kommandant?"

"Yes, Captain Sunderman. We're waiting for you to grace us with an opinion. Hmmm?"

Quickly, Helga uncrossed her legs, diverting the attention back to the captain and the Kommandant. She jotted down Klink's words, then looked at Sunderman expectantly.

"I believe we can do this. Yes, indeed." Sunderman snapped his fingers.

A silent sigh of relief from the men, from the lowest ranking, to the sergeant in charge of the motor pool, and up to the Kommandant, was almost audible, and obvious to Helga.

"I will need reports from all department heads on my desk by tomorrow morning," Sunderman said. "And, Kommandant, we can use the prisoners to build more barracks, but I will need trained, licensed contractors to assist with electrical and plumbing work."

Now Klink was more than ebullient; he was almost walking on clouds. "This is a great day." He put his swagger stick aside, then shook the captain's hand. "Luft Stalag 13 will be the finest POW work camp in all of Germany. Yes, Schultz?"

Schultz, whose hand had been raised, said, "I beg to report, Kommandant, that we still need to deal with the, with the...". He walked over to Klink and whispered loudly in his ear. "You recall what that man said. He was not nice. We need to fix the numbering."

"Yes, Kommandant. What are we going to do about that mistake? My wife in Stuttgart doesn't know how to address my letters," said the armory officer.

"We'll need more food," stated Corporal Keiter, who was in charge of the messes. These statements got all the men talking at once, for nothing was more important to any military person than food and mail.

Helga stopped trying to take notes, and stood up.

"Quiet," Schultz said. After no response, he tried again. "Quieeettt! Fraulein Helga can't hear."

This stopped the cacophony immediately. Thankfully for the Sergeant-at-arms, the few officers present did not object.

Klink moved to face his staff, all in a neat row by the door. "Fraulein Helga, Sergeant Schultz, and I have been working diligently to address the misnaming issue. We hope to rectify the situation soon. I can assure you that we have everything under control."

Turning to Sergeant Schultz, he added, "And Schultz, that man assured me in his visit that we should handle it, and that he had better things to do."

"Not exactly," Schultz murmured to Helga.

"And Keiter," Klink continued. "I suggest you start dealing with the local farmers, rather than rely solely on military shipments. Besides, the food will be fresher."

"As you wish, Kommandant."

"Is that it for comments and questions?" Klink asked. "No? Diiisssmisssed!"

Helga approached the Kommandant. "I'll type up these notes for you."

"Thank you, Helga. I think the meeting went well, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

Helga was quick to realize that, like her cat, Klink's ego needed to be constantly stroked. The difference between the two, however, was that the cat had higher self-esteem. Thinking about her cat reminded her that she needed to speak to the dog handler about his last bill. Catching up to Schultz before he left the office, Helga asked him to inform her the next time Oskar came to camp.

Work began on the expansion the following day. In exchange for extra electricity and hot water, Polish prisoners were tapped to help build the barracks that would hold the newly captured airmen being transported to camp. These construction crews were watched over by Schultz and several of his guards.

"Stop right there!" Schultz said in broken Polish. He put down his rifle and pointed to Sergeant Chernetsky, who paused from his hammering. Schultz stepped forward, ignoring the fact that his rifle was now leaning unattended against the rear wall of what was to become Barracks 12. "Your pockets."

"What?" asked Chernetsky. He shook his head to indicate he didn't understand what the guard was saying.

Schultz patted his own pockets then stepped forward and held out his hand. Chernetsky looked down at the ground and shrugged, then rifled through his pockets, removing several nails, some screws, a ruler, a piece of chalk and some string.

"The nails and screws," Schultz demanded, as he held out his hand. The other guards moved over to where this little altercation was taking place.

At the same time, while the Germans were distracted, another set of prisoners walked along the edge of the building. Their hands were in their pockets, and as they moved, clods of dirt fell from inside their pants legs, unnoticed onto the ground.


Along with new facilities, new prisoners warranted an increase in enlisted camp personnel. Klink had initiated the request for extra guards as soon as word came that the prisoners were on the way. He also had enough foresight to ask for personnel that spoke English and French.

However, as May turned into June, and word came that the British Expeditionary Force and thousands of French had been evacuated from Dunkirk, Klink became nervous. The steady trickle of expected new prisoners now threatened to turn into a rapid torrent of French and British, with a smattering of Dutch and Belgian airmen added into the mix. After all, Klink's stalag was located near the Dutch and Belgian borders. Klink logically assumed that rather than create logjams in the railroad network, German authorities would drop off the captured airmen at the closest facility. But the expected guards did not arrive at the front gate, so Klink was forced to do what he hated most: make inquiries on the phone.

His guards had been sent to the wrong stalag.

And, as Klink soon discovered, German bureaucrats were not using common sense. Prisoners were sent first to an interrogation center, then to a transit center, and then to their final destination. Many of these were located further east, a logical choice, he realized, as this made successful escapes less likely. Fortunately, this gave the construction crew a few extra weeks to prepare, and it gave Klink extra time to find guards.

The veterinarian returned to the stalag the following week. He struggled to switch the dogs; for they seemed to react viciously to the guards.

Schultz gingerly approached the van and waited until Schnitzer closed the door to the dog pen before speaking to the normally surly and grumpy owner.

"What do you want Schultz?" Schnitzer asked as he checked off marks on his clipboard.

"Aren't you removing any dogs?" Schultz replied.

Schnitzer shook his head. "More prisoners coming in. I need to add more guard dogs."

Schultz jumped back from the fence as one of the dogs, a large male, snarled. Meanwhile, Schnitzer turned around, forcing Schultz to turn as well. Behind Schultz's back, and unnoticed by other guards busy with other duties, one new prisoner stuck his hand through the fence and gave another dog a pat and a treat. The animal responded with a lick, after which the prisoner quickly left.

"Fraulein Helga asked me to take you into the office. She has a question about a bill."

"Oh? Well, let's get this over with then. I have work to do back in town. I have a practice to run as well." Schnitzer smiled under his breath. He was always willing to say hello to Helga; after all, he had known her since she was a little girl, and he and his wife were friendly with Helga's parents.

Schultz, as wary of the vet as he was of the dogs, took Schnitzer into the outer office, then left to continue with his duties. As soon as the sergeant shut the door behind him, Schnitzer gave Helga a hug, then sat in the chair next to her desk. "Is the Kommandant in?" he asked.

Helga shook her head. "He's at a meeting in town." She wrinkled her nose. "He is still looking for extra guards; then he has to stop by the Gestapo office. There is a new head, and he asked to speak with Kommandant. You forgot to sign your latest invoice."

"Ah." Schnitzer grabbed a pen, and signed the paper with a flourish. "There. Everything is under control."

"I'll see that the Kommandant issues a check as soon as he gets back. He's very pleased with your service, by the way. But the Kommandant and the guards are all terrified of the dogs. "

"Well, then I'm doing my job, Helga. They are guard dogs, after all. Vicious dogs that will save Germany from all these dangerous prisoners," Schnitzer said. "But don't worry about them hurting you. You aren't wearing a uniform."

Helga tilted her head. "I sense a bit of sarcasm. The prisoners aren't really dangerous."

Schnitzer patted Helga's hand. "No, they are the enemy, and we have to be on our toes."

Helga frowned. "Well, if you say so, Herr Schnitzer. And, before I forget, I can't thank you enough for helping me get this job. It is a big help."

"You're welcome. And thank you for taking in the stray. It's hard to find people to take in animals nowadays. War jitters, you know." Schnitzer stood up. "I must be going, I have rounds to make."

"Thanks for stopping by. And the cat is no trouble. She keeps us company when my father is away," Helga told him.

After the dog-handler had left, Helga resumed her typing. A short while later, however, she decided to step outside for a moment, as it was a pleasant day and she needed some fresh air.

The usual guard was elsewhere as she opened the door and stepped outside, so Helga was alone as a curious event caught her attention. A guard was putting one of the dogs back into the pen and, as usual, the dog snarled and appeared to growl at the German.

Meanwhile, a few prisoners were tossing a ball around the yard. It got loose and rolled to the dog pen which, by now, was closed. One of the men, a Polish corporal, hurried over to retrieve it.

Helga held her breath as she expected unpleasant reactions, from both the dogs and the guards, as the prisoner got closer. The guard reacted quickly, ordering the prisoner away with frantic waves. But, to Helga's utter surprise, the dogs did not respond as expected. Not only did they not bark, snarl or growl, but she swore she could see one wagging its tail. The prisoner glanced at the animal, picked up the ball, then quickly left the vicinity.

For several days after Schnitzer's visit, Helga made a point to watch interactions with the dogs as much as possible. And, sure enough, the dogs reacted viciously to the guards, but not to the prisoners.

That weekend, when Helga was off, she decided to pay a visit to the vet. As an excuse, she brought his check, along with the blueprint she removed from the clerk's file. In case she was stopped, she brought file folders home, with the blueprint mixed in with other papers. She could always say she took some work home, and had told the Kommandant this.


After leaving her parents' apartment, she hopped on her bicycle to ride the several miles outside of town where Schnitzer's home and practice was located.

"I appreciate you delivering the check, Helga. But it wasn't necessary. I would have waited for the mail."

Schnitzer, Helga, and Schnitzer's wife, Greta, sat around the kitchen table, enjoying some cake and tea. This was the first time Helga had been inside their home although, over the years, she had accompanied her mother and their various cats to the vet's small office at the back of the house. Until she began working at the camp, she had never come across his guard dogs.

Helga took a sip of tea. "I need to ask you a question. It's about your dogs."

Greta stood up. "I will leave you two alone if you are talking business. Why don't you sit on the veranda or go for a walk?"

Schnitzer nodded. "Come outside. We'll take a little walk." He gave his wife a look and then headed to the front of the house.

"All right." Helga followed the vet outside. "Well, I was thinking about what you said back at camp the other day." Helga bit her lip, uncertain as to how best to approach the subject. "The dogs seem quite nasty, so much so that they frighten the guards. But, Herr Schnitzer." She paused a moment to gather her courage. "Something I saw that afternoon made me wonder; wonder if you' re up to something?"

Schnitzer stopped. "What did you see?"

"One of the prisoners got close to the dog pen. The dogs didn't react, and I thought one actually wagged its tail."

"That's ridiculous. What dog was it? Do you know? I'll need to switch it out."

Helga, hands on hips, stared at the veterinarian. "You seem a bit defensive, but not surprised. They react to German uniforms, but not others, don't they?" As Schnitzer tried to deny the truth, Helga stopped him. "It's all right. You've known our family for a long time. You know where we stand."

"Come with me," he said. He took Helga away from the house, back to the shelter and pens where the dogs were trained. "As you can see, I have a nice collection of uniforms here." He showed her Luftwaffe uniforms, as well as uniforms of Allied soldiers. "Once I got the contract for the guard dogs, I was able to get the uniforms from the army. It's a matter of good training. The dogs are smart. They know who is friend and who is foe. And with certain signals, they can put on an act."

Helga didn't ask who knew the signals or who might be able to control the dogs besides the guards. She suspected word might have spread throughout the prison population.

"But no one has escaped from camp. We've had a few attempts, but they didn't get far at all. I recall the dogs found the prisoners outside the wire."

Schnitzer shrugged. "Klink is lucky, Helga. And we don't want the prisoners getting hurt. This is dangerous work for all of us. Please forget what I've told you."

She nodded. "I do have one question for you. Do you know anything about past mining operations in this area?"

He stroked his chin. "No, I haven't heard of anything like that. And we've lived here a long time. Why do you ask?"

"I have something to show you. In fact, I'd like to pass it to you for safekeeping. It's in the file I brought with me," Helga said.

The two walked back into the house and, in full sight of Schnitzer's wife, Helga pulled the blueprint out of her file. "I found this by accident in the clerk's office. I wasn't thinking, really. But I just took it and hid it at home. Mother and Father don't know about this, and they won't know, if you decide to keep it, or pass it on to the right people." She passed the paper over.

"This is right underneath part of the camp!" he exclaimed. "Why would they put a POW camp on top of a mine entrance?" He showed it to his wife.

"That doesn't make any sense," she said. "I didn't even know there were mines here."

"It's not my area of expertise, but it appears this entrance was never completed. They must have scrapped the project," Schnitzer said. "Does anyone else know about this?"

"No. but the originals are with the firm in Düsseldorf," Helga answered. "What does this mean?"

"It means that either someone made an egregious error when they switched the property over to the Luftwaffe," said Schnitzer. "Perhaps the blueprint just got lost or they overlooked it. Not many people know about the entrance, I would assume. I've been out there with the dogs and I've never seen it. Another possibility is that someone knew the entrance was there and picked the location purposely. But, either way, there's a large cavernous opening under the barracks. The Nazis don't know about it, but we do."