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What's in a Name
Chapter Ten
Don't Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth
Plans for inspecting the tunnel the following Wednesday were canceled due to inclement weather. Oskar did not even bother checking for signs of prisoner contact; he hustled the dogs in and out of the van, and quickly drove off into a driving rain.
The prisoners were disappointed, but patient. And, as LeBeau helpfully pointed out, they had an extra week to practice moving clandestinely around camp and near the dog pen. In addition to the British coal miner, a Norwegian engineering student volunteered to also inspect the cave and discuss tunnel strategy.
The following Monday was sunny and pleasant, and the Kommandant was in a good mood. A courier in a Kübelwagen was waved through the gates; a welcome sight, as he was carrying packages and letters for the camp staff. The prisoners watched glumly as Schultz and Langenscheidt sorted through the mail, handing it over to the happy guards.
Schultz stopped the courier before he could leave. "What is this?" Schultz asked. "This does not belong to us." He pointed to Corporals Langenscheidt and Geist, who were struggling to hold up a huge box.
"Hey, Sergeant. I just deliver the mail. It's pre-sorted somewhere else. If it comes here, it belongs here."
"But it's addressed to an officer at Stalag 13," Schultz pointed out.
"This is Stalag 13."
"Not exactly," Schultz grumbled. "We don't have an officer by that name at this camp. And this is Luft Stalag 13. Actually 6. But there was a mistake, and tampering with the mail is a serious offense. Imagine, opening up mail that does not belong to you."
"Tell that to the Gestapo, Sergeant. I hear they open mail all the time."
Schultz, Langenscheidt, and Geist's mouths hung open, amazed at the brazenness and foolishness of the courier's comment.
"I'm on a tight schedule. Have your Kommandant sort it out. You can always repackage it and send it back." Without waiting for a reply, the courier took off.
"What should we do with this, Sergeant?" Geist huffed as he tried to get a better grip on the box.
"Take it to the office."
The three tramped over to the Kommandteur, Schultz holding open the door for the two other guards. "Mail," he said to Helga, who held out her hand. Her eyes widened as Geist and Langenscheidt, followed Schultz in and plopped the large box on her desk.
She stood up and peeked at the label on the box.
"This isn't ours," she said, as she quickly looked through the mail. She put aside a few envelopes and walked around the desk and headed for Klink's office.
"We know." Schultz sighed. "But the courier wouldn't take it back."
"I'll ask the Kommandant what to do with it." Helga tapped on the door.
"Come in, Helga." Klink said as he put down his pencil.
Helga opened the door and smiled ."Your mail." She dropped it on his desk. "And we received another package."
"For them?" Klink's good mood suddenly vanished.
"Yes, sir. The courier refused to take it back. It's rather large. This time it's addressed to a Oberstleutnant von Richter. We have no one here by that name."
"I need to stretch. Let's take a look." This was the 3rd package in two weeks that took an extended jaunt through the Third Reich's package and delivery system. The last box, which contained screws, nails, and light switches, was forwarded to the other Stalag 13, along with a terse note.
Fortunately, for Luft Stalag 13, or 6, all expected deliveries were now arriving on time.
As for unexpected deliveries? "Well," as Helga joked, "If we didn't know we were supposed to receive them, how can we miss them?"
Schultz, Langenscheidt and Geist were still in the outer office, keeping a close eye and hands on the large box, lest it fall.
Klink strutted over. "This is large," he commented. "I should report that courier. Wait a minute...Bring this into my office," he ordered.
Schultz motioned and the two corporals slowly carried the box inside and plopped it on the floor. "Dismissed." Klink waved them away.
"Is this something we ordered, Kommandant?"
"No. But I believe this is of utmost military importance and should not be overlooked. Dismissed, Schultz."
Schultz looked at Helga, who shrugged. He saluted, left the office and closed the door. Helga followed, but was stopped by Klink.
"Please stay. Look at this." Klink pointed to the stamps marking the point of origin of the box. "What does that say?"
Helga knelt down. "Paris, Kommandant."
"Paris," he repeated. "I'm tired of playing post office for these people." Helga giggled. Klink tilted his head in confusion. (1)
"Sorry, Kommandant. Here." She handed him the letter opener, which he used to cut the tape and glue. He opened the top and rustled through the packaging paper, tossing it on the floor. An envelope addressed to von Richtor was removed and opened.
"Aha. Just as I thought," Klink stated. "The occupiers are taking advantage of their soft, cushy, posting. Listen."
"Dear Brother,
Don't worry about me. The Parisians are being very cooperative; it is not dangerous. We have the upper hand. The city offers a bounty of delights, some of which I have sent on to you. Share it with whomever you wish. A few items are for a specific special person; those will be obvious.
I trust you will be satisfied with your new posting. I know it is not combat, but someone has to oversee the vanquished soldiers now in our care. It might as well be a von Richtor."
"The nerve," Klink muttered. "As if this is not an important and dangerous job."
"It is, Kommandant." Helga, now appalled, patted the Kommandant's arm.
"Give mother a hug for me if you see her.
Best,
Your brother,
Frederick."
Klink removed more packaging. "Let's take an inventory."
"Should I get my shorthand book, sir?"
"No." Klink began to remove the bounty, as the sender called it.
"Foie Gras. 6 cans, Pâté, Merlot, 1901. Bet that is a good year. Mousse." He continued removing cans of food; fruit, jams, meat, and then some alcohol, until he reached bottom. His desk now resembled a French pantry.
"There's more under here," Helga pointed out.
She began unpacking dry goods, including silk handkerchiefs, fine linens, and a few pieces of carefully wrapped bone china. "This would be good for tea." And finally, at the bottom of the box, Helga discovered several pairs of silk stockings and a bathing suit.
That left both of them speechless.
"Imagine that." Klink held it up, then quickly dropped it on the desk. "Looks like it will fit you, my dear."
"Oh, Kommandant, I couldn't," Helga protested.
"Yes, you can. Here." He gathered up the women's dry goods in a pile, added the swimsuit, and handed it to his secretary. "Take them. Consider it a gift for all your hard work."
"But...this doesn't belong to me, or to this camp..."
"That's an order, Helga," Klink interrupted. "I'm tired of dealing with them, and their packages, and their brothers having an easy time in Paris. Our tax money pays their salaries, you know."
Helga was fully aware that goods and slave labor from occupied countries were flooding Germany. Most of these goods were not legally paid for, but were stolen.
"Help me get everything else back and the box resealed, Helga. Then have it taken to my quarters."
A little while later, Helga was examining the goods Klink had foisted upon her. She had to laugh. So far, the naming kerfuffle had sent them a wonderful translator, in the form of Corporal Langenscheidt. She had to admit that he was growing on the camp, and on her in particular. There were missing prisoners and missing guards, a group of lucky enlisted POW's ending up here, a much nicer camp instead of the unknown and much larger Stalag 13, a discovery of an abandoned mine underneath the camp, an excuse for Helga to misplace the order for ferrets, not the little animals, but the guards trained in the art of looking for tunnels, and now...a linkup between the prisoners and Oskar's little underground cell.
Although Helga assumed the goods were paid for, she was still uncomfortable with the whole scenario, as looking at them reminded her that millions of people were now suffering under the occupation. However, she decided to keep them. What else would she do with them? She put aside some handkerchiefs to give to her mother...a gift from Klink, of course. And the rest? Opening the bottom drawer of her desk, Helga placed the items underneath the personal items she kept there. And there they would stay until needed. After all, one never knows when a pair of silk stockings, or yes, even a bathing suit, might come in handy. (2)
(1) The game of Post office has been mentioned in popular culture since the 1920's. (wikipedia)
(2) The bathing suit did come in handy. And now we know why Helga had one available. (in a prison camp? LOL) See the first season episode, "How to Cook a German Goose by Radar. " (season 1, ep. 24)