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The discussion that followed was heated at times and Jackman found that he enjoyed every minute of it. It was sad to say but after you reached a certain rank in this man's Army people were afraid to tell you what they thought when things went wrong before they had a firm take on your own opinion…. The young officer leaning forward on the bed making his case so persuasively hadn't seemed to have learned that yet. He'd told his general just what went wrong and just what he thought about it. And taking Jackman's 'you may speak freely' literally, he told the general in accurate anatomical detail just what those individuals involved might do with themselves. Jackman turned away to hide a smile and bought himself some time by pouring a glass of water.
Garrison relaxed back on the bed a moment before he continued. "That scam would have worked if I'd gone in prepared."
"What do you mean?"
"That if Captain Klinner had just told me ahead of time, I could've come up with a story the German's would've believed, and they would have swallowed the dis-information he was so eager to feed them"
"He probably didn't think anyone could carry that off." The general took a sip from his glass and studied the young man in front of him. "I don't think I believe it either."
"Then let me go back and I'll prove it to you."
Jackman leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his jaw on his fist. "When would you want to do it?"
"As soon as I can get back over there." Garrison winced as he leaned back in the bed. He'd been beaten by hand so he was bruised and sore around the midsection and ribs. And the interrogator favored the strap, doubled over so it made a lot of noise, and had used it freely across his back and shoulders. The man had been an arrogant bastard who enjoyed his work. That had been his undoing. He thought he'd beaten his prisoner down. He thought he was good enough that he didn't need a guard after he'd 'conditioned' him. When one of his blows knocked Garrison off his feet, he made the fatal mistake of reaching down to haul him up again. 'Thank you Sergeant Holke' Craig thought to himself.
"In your condition? I hardly think the doctors would clear you for something like that."
"Sir, I'm fine. My injuries aren't that bad. And they'd give me a damn good reason for getting recaptured."
"Are you really willing to let yourself be taken and interrogated again, Lieutenant?"
"If it'll meet our objectives, yes, sir." There was a glint in the young officer's eye as he continued. "Just don't expect me to accept their 'hospitality' too long, sir, because you will be disappointed."
The young man in front of him looked like the only place he needed to be for the next two weeks was right where he was. Jackman didn't see how he'd be able to pull off what he was suggesting, but he had a growing feeling that he was going to do it with or without permission. The general gave a fleeting thought to having the MP's back to keep Garrison in his room. Another look at the determined set of eyes gazing back at him and he gave up on that idea. "Are you so sure you'll be able to get away from them?"
"General, I did before…. And this time I'll have help."
The doctors hadn't agreed with Lieutenant Garrison's assessment of his condition and abilities when Jackman asked that he be released to return to light duty in the section, and informed them both that he would be staying until they thought him fit for duty and released him.
The young man considered the door that had just closed on the doctor a moment before turning to General Jackman. "Sir, do I have your permission to handle this in my own way?"
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The cry that went up when Garrison was found missing from his hospital bed later in the day made the grumbling about him after he struck Lieutenant Bryns seem cordial and supportive in comparison. Jackman held his tongue and did his best to go along with the advice the Lieutenant had given him when he dropped the clothes the young man requested he retrieve for him from his locker on his bed. 'Just go along with it, sir. Whatever happens. It'll keep you out of trouble.' But he thought to himself that the kid might just as well stay over there if he couldn't pull this off. The most widely held explanation among the officers with the clearance to know his background for what had happened to him was that he'd bolted for his family home in Germany. One man suggested that if Garrison hadn't turned coat and taken up with the other side, at least if the Germans caught him they'd save the Army the trouble of a court marshal.
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The hardest part had been getting his back not to look like it had just been taken care of by a hospital full of doctors. Garrison and Claude used an old sheet they'd found for bandages. Blown off the line on some forgotten wash day it had spent its recent life hiding under the bushes that had grown up around the abandoned farmhouse they were using and was suitably soiled and tattered. Craig spent as much time as he could down in the stream letting the water run over the crusted wounds to soften them, then after Claude helped him 'suit up' he'd taken a few somersaulting rolls down the hill behind the house to freshen everything up and get a little bleeding started. By the next morning he looked, and felt, like he'd been on the run for two or three days.
They made their way back to the edge of town where he'd been taken before and waited until he spotted one of the guards who'd been involved in his original capture. As Claude faded back into the alley he moved forward to stand at the corner of the building. "Come on, you bastard. Look over here." Just as the whispered request left his lips the guard turned his gaze towards the alley and before he could get a good look at him Garrison made his move. Staggering back he pulled the metal trash bin he'd been leaning against over with a clatter. That ought to do it, he thought, and waited for the expected response of raised rifles and a shout for him to stand where he was. He cringed against the building and put his hands up and tried to look as tired and hunted as he could. He didn't have to fake the shakes and the Germans could interpret them however they wished, it was damn cold under all the wet clothes and bandages.
The German sergeant recognized him. And judging by his rough handling of him he hadn't been amused by what had happened to the officer his prisoner had last been seen with. Craig leaned into the furthest corner of the truck and thought he could've skipped those sacrificial rolls down that hill. The man had done a fine job of opening everything up, and he even added a split lip and a blackening eye of his own. If they didn't get where they were going soon he wasn't going to be in any shape to pull this off. The truck rattled to a stop just as the sergeant's fists had had enough rest and he'd gotten to his feet again. Again the look on his face told Garrison he hadn't been satisfied with his level of punishment yet but he wasn't quite prepared for the stinging backhand the man delivered as he grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked him forward to manhandle him off the truck.
The niceties had been skipped and he'd been taken straight to an interrogation room. The Germans already thought they knew who they were dealing with and the Major that stood in front of him was eager to get down to business.
"I know you speak German, but I refuse to sully my countries language by using it with a spy. You will condemn yourself in your own mongrel tongue." Then he'd stepped back and for the next thirty minutes he let the sergeant continue what he'd started in the truck while he lounged against the wall and smoked.
Pushing off the wall the officer waved the sergeant back and considered his prisoner a moment. "Now that you have experienced a little of Sergeant Reischal's brand of questioning would you care respond to mine?" When his request was met with silence he shrugged and returned to his wall. "You are making a grave error my friend, I assure you. Reischal, Fahren Sie fort."
By the end of the day Garrison was battered and exhausted. He'd let them loosen his tongue enough to give up his name, rank and serial number, over and over and over again. By the end of the evening all Reischal had to do was raise his hand to start him reciting. The Major had finally grown bored and had him thrown in a darkened cell to 'consider his options until tomorrow.' Craig huddled in the corner on the floor and tried to get a little rest. Tomorrow would probably come pretty early.
'Tomorrow' began in the dark hours before dawn. Three guards came for him and marched him back to the interrogation room where the Major waited. The chair he'd been strapped to the previous day was gone, instead they hustled him over to the wall and slipped the handcuffs he'd worn since he'd been captured over a hook that projected well over his head. The Major sat his coffee down on the table that rested in the corner of the room and strolled over, grabbing a handful of his hair he jerked his head back so he could stare him in the eye. "Have you decided to speak to me yet?" When Garrison let silence answer for him the Major pushed his head forward with enough force to stun him when it hit the wall in front of him. "I thought not." The man said in disgust. "I shall return after I have had my breakfast and see if you have changed your mind." Slamming the door as he moved through into the hall the Major left him to consider his situation. The hook was high enough he had to stretch up onto his toes to keep pressure off the raw skin that encircled his wrists. Altogether not a very comfortable position.
Breakfast must have been a leisurely affair on this post, he thought, they left him on his hook for two hours. At the sound of footsteps and murmured conversation outside the door he sagged and they found him hanging from the cuffs when the door opened on him again.
He didn't respond as he heard a man walk up behind him. A handful of his hair was grabbed again and his head pulled back so he and the Major could face one another. "Well, what is your decision?"
"Garrison, Lieutenant…." He didn't get a chance to finish before the German officer dashed his head against the wall and turned away.
"Wie Sie wünschen!" The table creaked as the Major rested his weight against it. "An Ihrem Vergnügen, Reischal."
It was going about as he expected. Now the belt would come out. Craig had planned it out, how many blows he thought he could take before he hooked the Major, and he waited for the sergeant to step up and pull the shirt open down his back so he could make a good job of it. The pile driver blow Reischal delivered to the area over his kidneys came as a complete surprise. The fact that it was followed immediately by another one left him little time to decide on his next move. He pulled his chin down and mumbled, just loud enough he hoped the sound would carry across the room. Reischal struck again and Garrison felt his ribs go.
"Schritt zurück." As the sergeant moved out of the way the Major stepped up and pulled his head back again. "Did you say something?"
"Jamieson, Captain, 0357829."
That's the worst of it, Garrison thought to himself as the sergeant hoisted him by his belt and pulled his arms up to release him from his pinion on the wall. Reischal let him fall into a heap on the floor at his feet, and gave him a little friendly encouragement with the toe of his boot to get him started on the process of getting to his feet again. The party moved down the hall into an office that was a little more comfortable, for the Major. His own accommodation was another set of straps and a hard backed wooden chair with a very bright, very hot lamp shinning down on it.
Craig let them spend the rest of the morning convincing him to give them the information he was carrying. As he recited the last set of numbers recounting the availability of US troops and the speed with which they could be in Great Britain he hoped he'd read the political situation correctly. If he was wrong he was probably enjoying his last moments on earth.
The Major sat back in his chair and gave a satisfied grunt of pleasure. "Well done Captain Jamieson." He took the last drag off his current cigarette and leaned forward to stub it out in the metal cup on the desk. "I suppose you know what we do with spies, Captain? We shoot them in the street like the dogs that they are, and we leave the bodies for the birds and vermin to feed on." He reached into his tunic pocket for his cigarettes and the sergeant stepped forward to light the one he brought to his lips. Turning his gaze back on his captive he considered him through the smoke. "But you have told me a very entertaining tale and I'm sure my superiors in Berlin would be amused if you could tell it to them in person. So I think, my friend, you and I will take a little trip."
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As the prisoner was thoroughly cowed, no additional guards had been detailed to go along. Sergeant Reischal rode in front with the driver, the Major lounged in the comfortable back seat, and Garrison sat huddled miserably in the corner, as far as he could get from the man. The car made its way through the streets of the town and finally turned down a secondary road that connected to the one that ran along the river and would take them out to the main highway. Just before they pulled to the intersection a truck swerved around the corner, causing the driver to pull sharply to the side to avoid a collision. The two vehicles came to a stop with the Major's car pinned in, the truck had forced them over the curb and too close to the wall of the building for the doors to open, and its rear prevented them from moving forward. Two men rolled out of the back of the truck and sprayed the front seat of the car with bullets while two more men ran to the car and jerked the door open, pulling Garrison from his seat.
While the Major peered over the back of the front seat of his car his prisoner was dragged across the intersection and forced to his knees on the river bank. The men that had intercepted his car gathered around him, and after shouting about 'traitors' and 'collaborators' one of the men brought his pistol up and put a bullet in the man's head. Two of them used their boots to lever the body into the swift current of the river and they were gone as quickly as they had appeared. The Major waited a moment to be certain he'd been left alone and then he cautiously made his way across the road and gazed down river. The bank was steep here and the river ran fast and deep. There was no sign of the man he had hoped to deliver to Berlin, but as he turned back towards the car he patted the pocket of his tunic, at least he had an accounting of what the man had told him.
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Six days later Jackman was interrupted in a meeting with the terse message… "We got him, sir." After bringing the discussion to a close and seeing the men out of his office he turned to the phone and got the particulars on where the young man was. Ward three of the hospital, under guard… 'Well,' he thought to himself, 'that seems to fit a pattern.' The general instructed his aid to cancel the afternoon meetings and have his driver pick him up at the front of the building.