Author's Note: I apologize for the long wait between chapters. There was a lot going on the past few weeks, plus it was a longer chapter than usual. I hope you enjoy this, cause a lot happens!
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Good Night and Good Luck
The itch to escape had become more irksome because of its impending reality now that the tunnels were complete and a date set for the event. But the itch was subdued some by the return of hard work. Harvest was nearing, and the few farmers that the prisoners supported were demanding more attention to their crops if the Germans wanted good results. Harsh rains returned after a good two-and-a-half weeks of a drought. The rain swelled the river, and once again a flood was feared. This called for the deepening of the ditches and placing sandbags around the perimeter of the farms and camp. The tiring work left little energy that week for escape plans.
But after the rain spell ended and life returned to normal, more thought was given to the escape. Details were worked on thoroughly. Men were given spots in line to escape during the appointed time. As they were given a spot, they were given ID papers created by Peter and his crew of forgers and some clothes tailored by Louis and his crew of tailors. The diggers perfected the recreation hall tunnel by widening it and making it slightly taller. They also wired electricity into it or lights so that they wouldn't have to use candles anymore. A committee was formed to organize the show in correspondence with the escape.
All of this went down each day at rec hour, always looking forward to the greatly anticipated day of September 18th.
August 24, 1941
"Twenty-five days."
Shovel. Toss.
"Twenty-five days, and we're 'ome free."
Shovel. Toss. Shovel. Toss.
"Twenty-five days and I'll be on me way back to English ale and biscuits."
"Peter, if you don't mind, please stop."
Peter stopped shoveling and looked over his shoulder at Luke. "Wot; I can't daydream about 'ome?"
"Daydream to yourself, then," said Luke. "Because you're going to drive me around the bend if you don't stop. I want out just as much as you do, but I can hardly wait and you're just making it worse."
Peter smiled. "Fine, fine." He went back to shoveling out the dirty hay in the barn stall.
A few minutes later, they heard Polish shouts coming from outside. Peter and Luke looked at one another curiously before going to the door and looking. Not far from them were Farmer Jakowitz and Berg, arguing loudly.
"Wonder wot this is all about," said Peter.
"Hey! Look! A puppy," exclaimed Luke. He pointed and sure enough on the other side of Berg, sitting at his feet, was a German Shepherd puppy. Peter cocked his head curiously and then groaned when Luke took off.
"Oi! You can't just walk on over there! We're supposed to be workin'!" But he followed anyway.
Luke causally ambled over and walked around Berg to see the puppy. He picked it up—which it enjoyed—and brought it around for Peter to see. Berg certainly noticed it, but was too enthralled in the argument to care at the moment.
"He is rather adorable," said Luke. He held him in his arms like a baby, and scratched his belly.
"Sure," said Peter as he patted the dog's head. "Until 'e grows up into a charmin' guard dog." He scratched underneath the dog's chin. "OW!" He drew his hand away quickly and held his finger. "He ruddy bit me! You certainly are goin' to be a good guard dog!"
"He's teething," explained Luke as if it were obvious.
"Right, and one day soon enough 'e'll be teething on our legs," argued Peter sorely.
It was then that Berg decided to ignore Jakowitz and turn his attention onto his prisoners. He picked the dog up by its neck fur and set it on the ground. "Now, back to vork."
"Okay, okay," said Luke calmly, before Berg got worked up. "We just wanted to see the puppy."
"No, you wanted to see the ruddy dog," said Peter. "I just came along to keep you out of trouble."
"Trouble? What could I have possibly done—"
"Where Mac?"
Peter and Luke turned around and looked at Jakowitz. Berg was looking annoyed.
"Never mind," said the guard. He pushed Peter and Luke forward. "Back to vork."
"Wot's 'e talkin' about, Bergie," asked Peter. "Who's Mac?"
"Do not vorry about it," snapped Berg. "Now raus!"
"We're rausin'," said Peter, throwing up his hands in defeat.
"Mac is Stephen, right," asked Luke quietly. Peter looked at him, realizing that made perfect sense. He turned on Berg quickly. "You never told Jakowitz?" It was no secret that Peter was angry. When Berg didn't respond quickly that was all the answer Peter needed. "Why didn't you tell him? Trying to hide the tragedy from the locals? It's not like they don't know we're prisoners. At least tell them the whole truth."
Berg scowled at Peter. "It is not any of your business—"
"It is too my business," snapped Peter. "Stephen was my friend. And the way you treat his memory is definitely my business. Now, why don't you tell him what happened?" He paused. "You can or I will."
"You cannot even speak Politur," said Berg.
"I'll learn the words if I need to," replied Peter determinedly.
Berg shook his head. "I really did not think that Landwirt Jakowitz needed to know."
"Rubbish," retorted Peter. "Stephen was the sheepherder. Jakowitz deserves to know wot 'appened to 'is sheepherder."
Berg sighed and looked at Jakowitz. Peter and Luke watched Jakowitz's expression change, and they only assumed that Berg had told the truth about Stephen. Jakowitz sadly shook his head and muttered something under his breath. Then, he picked up the puppy and walked off.
"That dog is going to replace Stephen," stated Luke knowingly.
"Ja," said Berg. "The Kommandant sent him."
"The Kommandant," echoed Peter and Luke.
"Ja," answered Berg hotly. "There a problem?"
"No, no," said Luke. "Just a surprise is all. I can't figure that man out."
"You are not meant to," said Berg. "None of us are. Just Major Duerr."
"They seem to know one another rather well," said Peter. "You know why?"
"I know nothing more than you do," answered Berg. His expression turned hard. "Now back to vork—"
"Raus!" said Peter and Luke simultaneously. They scurried off back to the barn, and picked up their shovels to resume working.
"Just twenty-five days left o' this."
"Peter!"
Despite everyone's eager anticipation, all knew that the reality was that many would still not escape. The plan was meant to have many go, but saying that they would all go home free was just fooling oneself. And then, of course, there were those who were being left behind. There were those who knew they were too far down the line to really have a good chance of getting away clean with anything. Everything would depend on appearance to the Germans when the time came. The minute anyone thought the room looked too empty was the minute the escape would end. Everyone knew this.
So, those who knew they weren't getting out devoted their minds to creating enough schemes and ploys to make it look like the room was packed with prisoners as the last show had been. They planned on creating distractions periodically that would demand the Germans' attention to something else besides numbers. These men dubbed themselves the Emcees and everyone was grateful for their cooperation despite the fact that they weren't going anywhere.
The leader of the Emcees was a surprise to everyone. It was Lawrence. Although Géraud had promised Lawrence an early slot out for his escapade, Lawrence declined it. He said that his absence would be noticed and that his place was here with his men. He wouldn't leave the men without someone to speak for them. Géraud was staying for the same reason, but had long ago said that. But everyone had believed that Lawrence would go, because many of the men trying to escape were the same ones he marched across France and Germany with. But his decline of escaping brought him further respect.
On September 2nd, Géraud stood in Duerr's office wondering why he had been summoned so early. The French had just gotten out of breakfast, and it wasn't like Duerr to summon the officers so early for anything. Géraud assumed it meant bad news. Duerr entered his office a few minutes later. He saluted Berg and then sat down at his desk before acknowledging Géraud's presence.
"I brought you here to personally inform you that the show on September 18th has been cancelled."
"What…why," stammered Géraud, caught off guard. He quickly composed himself. "The men will not be very pleased about this."
"I do not expect them to be," answered Duerr shortly.
"What is the reason, then?"
"Jöchmann's trip to Berlin was cancelled." When Géraud did not immediately respond, Duerr continued. "Well, that is all. You are dismissed." Duerr saluted, to which Géraud returned half-heartedly.
"What do you mean cancelled," cried Louis amongst similar dissenting cries from his countrymen.
The Frenchmen were gathered between the barracks when Géraud gave the bad news. After the cries died down enough for the officers' voices to be heard, order was restored so that Géraud could explain. When he was finished, it was quiet as everyone digested the information.
"Now, go back to the barracks," said Géraud. "Settle down before they call us for work." While everyone left, Géraud called for Louis.
"Oui monsieur?"
Géraud slipped him a note, which Louis pocketed quickly without looking. "That needs to get to Lawrence."
"Oui monsieur."
Louis walked off quickly and grabbed Marcel's arm as he walked by. They went to the edge of the compound and Louis looked around.
"The British didn't have breakfast yet, did they," asked Louis.
Marcel looked at his watch. "Not for another five minutes, why?"
"Good. I need to get something to Pierre. Now, act sick."
"Now how is that—"
"Just do it. Trust me." Louis walked out in front of the barracks so that they were a few yards away from Corporal Prinz, a guard they were familiar with. Louis gave Marcel a look.
"I have a stomach ache," said Marcel awkwardly.
"Act like it," urged Louis in an impatient whisper.
Marcel looked confused, and then suddenly Louis elbowed him hard in the gut. Reflexively, Marcel doubled over and gave a little groan. Prinz looked over, and Louis went into action.
"Marcel? Marcel, are you okay? Talk to me, mon ami."
"You aren't getting away with this Louis," muttered Marcel with annoyance.
"I had to get you in character," whispered Louis through his teeth. "Marcel, are you alright?"
"Oh, mon Dieu, my stomach hurts," moaned Marcel dramatically.
Louis looked around frantically. When he spotted Prinz, he called out to the guard. "My friend isn't feeling well. Please, take us to the infirmary."
Prinz shook his head. "I cannot."
Marcel moaned louder, and Louis nearly went into hysterics. "Please! He is in so much pain! Look at him!"
Marcel started rambling on in French about the pain in his stomach which had spread to his head. He squeezed his eyes shut in faux agony. Louis looked at Prinz again. "Please! Just take us to the infirmary. The medic can take care of him."
Prinz hesitated but finally gave in. "D'accord. Come quickly."
"Gladly," muttered Louis, who pretended to support Marcel as they left the French compound. When they got to the infirmary, Prinz gladly left them alone with the medic. When he was gone, Marcel smacked Louis across the head.
"Ow!"
"That's for elbowing me in the stomach!"
"I suppose you two aren't really sick," asked the French medic Corporal Blanc.
"Non," replied Louis quickly. "I needed to get out of the compound. Keep Marcel here for the day. He could use a rest."
Marcel looked at Louis with confusion. "What? Louis, I'm going back when you do."
"Just stay here," said Louis. "Take a break while you can. Besides, the Major will have your head for faking ill."
"It was your idea," muttered Marcel. But Louis just smiled and went to the door. Looking out through the window, he could see the British prisoners leaving their compound on their way to breakfast. Perfect; they would pass right in front of the infirmary, where Louis would get Peter's attention. Sure enough, when they passed, Louis stepped outside. With a nod to the Brits, they knew he had a message for Peter. Peter was shuffled to the side, where he met Louis at the infirmary steps.
"Wot's wrong," asked Peter. "Why are you at the infirmary?"
"Distraction," replied Louis quickly. "But do not worry about it." He grabbed Peter's wrist so that he knew he had note. Peter palmed it from him and it disappeared. Louis quickly looked around. "Did you hear about the cancellation?"
"Yea," murmured Peter bitterly. "I can't believe it. I've no idea wot comes next other than to escape on me own." He sighed. "But I'm not. Not without you, Luke, and Marcel."
"I know," said Louis. The line was moving on, which would make their conversation noticeable to the guards. Louis shook Peter's hand. "I'm sure the answer is in the note."
"Right," said Peter. "It'll be in Lawrence's hand in a tic. Bye."
"Au revoir."
Prinz came back to the infirmary and took Louis to the French compound. Immediately Louis went to Géraud to report that the note had successfully been passed on.
"Monsieur," said Louis. "I have one question."
"Oui?"
"Was the note about what we are going to do next to escape?"
Géraud sighed and nodded. "I was about to let the men know what comes now." He looked Louis in the eyes. "It is every man for himself."
In the mess hall, Peter sat down beside Lawrence. Beneath the table, he handed the officer Géraud's note. Lawrence dropped his eyes down to read it: Reign free. Lawrence looked up slowly, obviously deep in thought. Peter watched his expression.
"Sir? What is it?"
"The escape committee is in favor of freelance escapes. Good luck."
September 18, 1941
"Well, since this was the day we planned anyway, I guess I'll enjoy this escape attempt," said Everley.
Peter handed a scarf. The nights were getting chillier. "Enjoy it but don't lose your 'ead. Be careful out there."
"I will," said Everley. "Say, when are you goin' to 'ave a go at this?"
"When I can arrange it that Louis, Luke, and Marcel come with me," answered Peter.
Everley shook his head, but didn't say anything when he heard footsteps approaching around the side of the barracks. Peter and Everley ducked behind some crates. But when they peeked around, they saw that it was only Dean. They stood up quickly.
"Okay, I'm ready," said Dean.
"All right, chaps," said Peter. "You look great. Now, let's go."
The three started off for the fence, dodging spot lights in the process. They stopped between two barracks before running into the no-man's-land. Then, as the two spotlights of the guard towers in front of them turned the farthest away, the three ran for the fence. The angle right in the middle of the towers was too steep for the guards up there to spot them, even with a spotlight. Quickly, Peter pulled out a little hacksaw he had "confiscated" from the Jakowitz farm. He had already started on this little section of fence. It took about fifteen seconds for him to finish it. Everley and Dean slipped through and went to the next fence. They had about a minute to get through it before the guard on patrol came around. But the wire there was thin, and they were through quickly. They handed the saw back to Peter, and then slipped through. Being so dark outside, they disappeared in seconds. Peter didn't waste any time standing around. He watched the spotlights and when they turned away, ran back to his barracks.
Inside the barracks, everyone slept unknowingly except Luke. Once he saw Peter come back in and lie down, Luke went to sleep. No one else had known of the escape attempt. That was how it was now. No one talked about their escape attempts because the less who knew the better. Many feared that if someone knew they were trying to escape, more people would try to jump in on it, possibly blowing the cover. Since everyone knew this, it was now custom to say "Good night and good luck" when telling someone good-bye at the end of the day. They got this from someone's letter from London who described that when saying good-bye, Londoners added "good luck" because of the Blitz. There was a chance that whoever you were saying good-bye to might not be around in the morning. The prisoners simply turned it into a more optimistic meaning.
In little escapades that Dean and Everley had just done, a small number was most important. Otherwise, they would have attracted attention. This was why many of the British went to Peter to confide in their escape and get help. They knew he wouldn't try and jump in since he had already vowed not to leave his friends behind. It was likewise for Louis with the French. Both had easy access to the civilian clothes and papers they had been working on for the mass escape. Luke and Marcel were also in on it and became messengers for Peter and Louis when they were helping someone.
Escape attempts had been going on since the cancellation of the show. That very night, there had been an attempt. But they had been recaptured the following day. They were given thirty days in the cooler as usual. The cooler was now more occupied than it had ever been. Surprisingly, Jöchmann had not shown his face yet. Everyone knew it was just a matter of time. They had gotten used to the fact that he showed up unexpectedly. So, it was the thought that now was your chance, so take it.
The following morning, the cut wire was found also with the absence of Dean and Everley. The barrack was torn apart in search of more evidence. Each man in the barracks was strip-searched as well. This was the procedure the guards had taken to since they found evidence of more escape tools in another barracks. Duerr wasn't a fool. He knew that other prisoners were in on the escapes for the sake of helping. In another barracks, he had found that evidence. But since then, nothing had tuned up. Still, no one had had a successful escape. He was confident that it was the same story for Dean and Everley.
Three days later, they were back at camp, looking much like Peter had when he had been recaptured. After being questioned, they were tossed in the cooler for with a thirty day sentence.
"Well," said Peter, watching as Everley and Dean were brought to the cooler. "That's the eighth failed attempt. The odds certainly aren't in our favor."
"I just wish we could talk to someone," said Luke. "Find out what went wrong out there so we know what to expect."
Peter nodded. "But we've still got fourteen days before the first chap is let out."
"That's Timon, right," asked Luke.
"Yea," said Peter disapprovingly. He still hadn't really forgiven Timon for what he had said about the Cockneys. Although they still shared a barracks and worked together, they only talked when they had to. When Timon was released, Peter knew he would have to. Luke was right; they needed information.
So, on October 3rd, when Timon was released from the cooler, Peter was one of the first to greet him. Though Timon was shocked, he still knew it was important for him to give up information. After he cleaned up with a shower and got a shave, Timon settled down to tell his barrack mates everything that had transpired. It was a typical escape through the wire one night, but he the reason he was recaptured so quickly was because the SS were camped out not far in the woods just waiting for escapees. They were out there in well crafted trenches and bunkers watching the woods all night in camouflage. Timon said he practically ran right into their arms. This was proof that Jöchmann was still watching even from afar.
"It's really like a war zone out there," said Timon. "And they're everywhere too."
"Well, some people 'ave lasted more than three days out there," said Peter. "So there 'as to be a way to get around them."
"We were talking in the cooler about it," said Timon. "Morse code. Some of the guys noticed it before they ran into it. But they said it took them so long to get around it all, that when they finally made it past, the Wehrmacht were on the other side, making it nearly impossible to go on."
"This is crazy," said someone. "We'll never get out. Even if we do get to use the tunnels, if we run into that, it won't matter."
"Did you notice 'ow extensive it was," asked Peter. "'Ow long their trenches were and such?"
Timon shook his head. "It was too dark. I didn't get to see it in the daylight."
Peter nodded. "We'll just 'ave to wait till more people get out of the cooler."
Timon's information was given to the officers, and more word was given once others were released from the cooler. After a month, though, they had little else to go on. No one could say for sure how extensive the SS had made their trap. But those like Everley and Dean—who had gotten through—said all it took was careful watching of the troops. It was just that it took them too long to do that, at by that time the Wehrmacht was simply waiting for them on the other side. With this information, everyone felt really trapped.
"The escapes are goin' to 'ave to be from outside camp," said Peter to Luke one day early in November. "Like me and Louis did before."
"But how are the four of us going to be able to get together outside the camp," asked Luke. "Even if we're on the same farm, we're still separated."
"It'll 'ave to be when we're all together then," replied Peter. "Either at the beginning', at the end, or when we're marchin'."
Luke was silent a moment. "I'm in favor of when we're on our way there or back."
Peter nodded. "Me too. And on the way back would be best. It will get darker sooner, givin' us more cover."
Luke smiled, anticipation rising. "Now we just need to tell Louis and Marcel."
"I'll take care o' that," said Peter.
Though recreation hour had lost many of its privileges—including the integration of the prisoners for the hour, and the use of the recreation hall—there were still other ways to communicate. Talking through the fence was too risky when speaking about escapes. The guards were more wary now than ever about prisoners planning escapes. But the mess hall was still useful. Peter and Louis left notes for one another in the crook of the legs underneath the tables. They had designated a table for themselves to pass the notes through, and every day checked it. The following morning, Peter left a note at breakfast. That evening, Louis found it at dinner. It read: Tomorrow coming home.
The note had two meanings to Louis. The escape would be tomorrow and it would happen while they marched back from work. Louis showed it to Marcel at the table. Marcel just gave a sharp nod. Louis tore the note up and threw it in the trash.
The following day, as they got in line to march back into camp, Peter, Luke, Louis and Marcel situated themselves parallel to one another. There was always a line of Frenchmen on one side of the road, and a line of British on the other. Peter had Luke in front of him, ready to grab him the instant he saw the opening. Everley and Dean, who Peter had confided in, were going to create a diversion.
It wasn't long after they had started the march back to camp that Dean and Everley did their thing. Everley suddenly stumbled forward and then grabbed his ankle when he fell. Dean descended on him like a mother hen, making the loudest fuss ever. Everley rolled helplessly on the ground crying out for his mum.
"Brilliant," muttered Peter. As the prisoners dramatically gathered around, the guards went with them, and that was when Peter grabbed Luke's shoulders and pushed him into the woods. Peter was right behind him. They dashed about twenty yards in and took cover. Peter chanced a look back to the road. Louis and Marcel were nowhere in sight.
They waited until the march moved on, Everley groaning with every step as he walked between Dean and Timon. A few minutes later, the escapees heard their comrades whistling. This let the escapees know how far away they were. When the whistling died away to nothing, Peter gave a bird whistle of his own. It was returned immediately. Peter and Luke stood up cautiously, looking around and then inched towards the road. They stayed on the forest side of the ditch and watched as Louis and Marcel made their way over. With a quick glance to the road, the two Frenchmen dashed across the road and met up with Peter and Luke.
"Okay," said Marcel. "Where to now?"
"We need to go west until dark," said Peter. "Then at dark, we go north."
"And of everything goes as planned," said Louis. "No one will know we are gone until this evening's roll call. Which means the ground we cover between now and dark is the most important."
"Right," said Peter. "So, let's get crackin'."
They moved quickly and cautiously. Though worried about running into SS in trenches, they nerve ran across one soldier. They never saw another soul all day. They figured that the SS had positioned themselves closer to camp, only ready for those escaping from camp. This was a lucky break they took advantage of. They came across roads and other farms, but the country hid them well with plenty of woods and hills. By the time the sun was setting, they had reached a creek that ran from the ridgeline in the north.
"If we take this," said Peter. "It should bring us straight to ridge I crossed. But we'll be much further east, which should give us an advantage."
"'Opefully they think we went directly north," said Louis. That had been the idea from the beginning, and they all prayed it worked.
They followed the creek then, and about four hours later, in the dark, they came to the river that ran at the base of the ridge. It was deeper than before, but by holding onto one another, they were able to ford it. From there, they went up the ridge, which was not as steep and rocky as where Peter had climbed it. This allowed them to get up it quicker, and when they reached the top around 0100 hours, they took a break, eating some bread that they had kept for the occasion. After that, they walked north on the ridge till dawn. There, they made shifts to keep watch while they slept for the day. They were surprised, but happy when they made it through the day without incident. At dusk, they ate some more, and then moved on for the night. They opted to remain on the ridge and move north.
At midnight, they stopped for some rest and to take inventory of their supplies.
"Another day's worth of food and water," said Luke.
"There are farms down below," said Marcel. They had seen town lights an hour earlier. "Do you think we could go down and steal some things?"
Louis looked at Peter who shrugged. "The stealin' isn't the 'ard part. It's makin' sure we don't get caught down there by troops. That's 'ow I got picked up last time."
"But we still need food," said Marcel.
They were silent for a moment.
"Okay," said Peter. "'Ere's wot we'll do. I'll go down, an' if I'm not back in two 'ours keep goin'. Cause that probably means I've been caught."
Though their first emotions told them no—they could not leave him behind—they all nodded reluctantly. Whether they liked it or not, it was what had to be done. Without another word about the matter, Peter started off downhill.
Fortunately, a little less than an hour-and-a-half later, Luke caught sight of Peter coming back up the hill quickly. He had a satchel with him, and after being warmly welcomed back into their little camp. He quickly emptied its contents: a loaf of bread, some cheese, another canteen, and two blankets.
"Where exactly did you go," asked Luke.
"Some ruddy farmhouse," answered Peter. "Everyone inside was asleep, so it weren't 'ard. I just didn't want to push me luck so took wot was in sight."
"Good idea," said Marcel. "Pack it away, and we will keep going until dawn."
"Righto," said Peter, and he quickly packed it away for the night.
"Not a trace of them has been found, sir," reported Duerr to the Kommandant. "Not even a trace of their escape from camp. I don't even believe they escaped from here; that obviously wasn't working. I think they escaped from outside camp."
"It makes more sense," agreed the Kommandant. He shook his head with annoyance. "They were certainly thinking hard about this one." He pulled out a map from the desk and unrolled it. The two looked over it. He pointed to markings and lines around the Stalag, the Oflag, and Jöchmann's camp. "These are where the SS hide out." He then pointed to the farms outside town. "This is where we assume they escaped from."
"Which means they were outside the entire perimeter," said Duerr. "They planned that."
"And that wasn't the only thing they planned," replied the Kommandant. "Corporal Newkirk was recaptured here last time." He pointed right on the other side of the ridge. "He won't go back that way."
"So you don't believe they went north," asked Duerr.
"No," answered the Kommandant. "They went north. But not like he did last time. North is definitely the quickest route to freedom. But look at the map. The most populated area closest to Bielski, is directly north. They've learned this. So, what if they took a more eastern course?"
Duerr studied the map. "That would put them up here, in these smaller mountains."
"Exactly," said the Kommandant. "Much better cover for escaping POWs. Corporal Newkirk was on his way there when we caught him last time. He will lead them that way. And for them to get that far so quickly wouldn't surprise me. Corporal Newkirk covered a lot of ground quickly before."
Duerr nodded. "I'll phone for troops in that area to search."
"Good," said the Kommandant. "Though they can travel fast, they cannot travel faster than communications."
"No sir," said Duerr. "Though they've done quite admirably."
November 8, 1941
Luke had the last watch that led into daybreak. He sat with his back against a tree, watching the sunrise through the trees. He list was really relaxed; being out here with his friends so far unnoticed by the enemy. But he knew they weren't out of the woods yet, which was why he kept his ears and eyes wide open for anything unusual. When the sun was nearly all the way raised he shook everyone awake. They each took some bread and the last of the cheese, downing it with some water. The cheese had been a surprising treat, but now it would be bread and water until they were forced to scavenge again.
While Peter was putting everything back in the satchel, Marcel suddenly squatted down behind a tree. Everyone looked at him.
"Boche," he whispered. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating that they were down the hill from them.
Everyone was silent and sure enough they could hear German voices nearby.
"Quickly," said Peter in a frantic whisper. "Let's get on the other side o' the ridge."
As silent as possible, they started running down the other side, taking a northeastern course. They stopped after about five minutes, breathing hard. They listened as they crouched behind trees.
"I don't hear anything," said Luke. "You think we lost them?"
"For now," replied Louis. "Rapidement. We need to keep moving."
They kept heading northeast at a quick pace, even jogging every now and then when they got spooked. Whether they were just hearing things or not, they didn't care. They preferred not to be caught. When they came to the bottom of the ridge, they found themselves at a road, which ran parallel to train tracks. A train of cattle cars stood still on it.
"Now what," asked Louis. "There are surely more boche around. That has to be a prisoner train."
"We need to get back up on the ridge," said Peter. "We can make it up there by night."
"But Jerry is up there, too," said Luke.
"Maybe," said Marcel. "But Pierre 'as a point. "We're more likely to be caught down 'ere. It's too open."
"Ok," said Peter. "We keep 'eadin' north, but back up the 'ill."
They turned back, but Peter couldn't help but feel like he had before. Like someone who was trapped and the space they were trapped in was only getting smaller and smaller as they moved more.
And the space closed in quickly. The Germans were onto them, and they ran right into them as they moved up the hill. Going back down, the road left the vulnerable. The four escapees then chose to split up. Peter and Luke went one way, and Marcel and Louis another. They were caught only minutes after one another. After appearing trapped, Marcel and Louis tried hiding and waiting it out. But the Germans had brought their dogs with them, and they were scented out quickly enough. Peter and Luke were caught in a similar fashion, at least by the dogs. It was over quickly, and the miserable trip back to camp began.
"I'm beginning to believe that maybe there isn't a way out of this camp," said Lawrence, as they watched the four escapees get out of the truck and head to the cooler. "I mean, they had the best chance of late and they didn't even make it."
O'Neill shrugged his shoulders. "There's a way. There has to be. We're getting out of camp. We just have to stay out of camp. That's where we're failing miserably."
Lawrence shook his head and tuned around to leave the compound. "You're right. And we've always known that the chances are slim to get out and stay out. I still think that having the mass escape is the best way. The more people out there, the more confusion, and it's easier for one or two to pass while someone else gets captured. Not nice, but that's one way."
"We just have to get a mass escape going," said O'Neill. "And right now, our tunnel puts us right into the hands of the SS."
This thinking was becoming common around the camp. The more failed escape attempts coupled with the fact that the SS were just out there waiting for them, brought the morale down low. Figuring a way to stay out of camp was becoming more difficult. Many were keen on just trying their luck; that maybe one time, they'll make it all the way. But it was a slap in the face over and over again when one didn't make it.
But then, the following week, Timon escaped again, disappearing during the march back to camp after work. He had not planned it, he just did it. And four days later, when he was still not recaptured, the prisoners were beginning to believe he had made it. A week later, with no trace of Timon to be found, it was finally concluded that Stalag XXXA had its first escape. Everyone wondered how he had done it. Most believed he had just gotten lucky. But whatever the means, the men rejoiced.
But they did not rejoice for long, because Jöchmann returned. There was another battle over the command of the camp. But it was settled in a day when a Wehrmacht general arrived and put his two cents in. He pointed out that one escape was bound to happen in any prison camp; even Jöchmann's who had already had five successful escapes from individual prisoners. With this fact, there was nothing more Jöchmann could do but to keep his current role has head of security in the area. The camp still fell under Wehrmacht control.
That was something to rejoice in, but the prisoners knew they would be punished still. Though Peter, Louis, Luke and Marcel were released from the cooler a week early, they found that privileges in the camp had diminished. There was no recreation hour, no permission to talk through the fence and security had tightened around work details so that talking even then was hard. You could not talk during the marches and anyone who did anything was given a day in the cooler. The camp was becoming a cold prison, even as the weather got colder.
December 11, 1941
"You're not goin' to believe it!"
Everyone in the barracks looked up when Everley burst into the barracks.
"Where've you been," asked Peter, ignoring Everley's outburst. "We thought you'd escaped or something!" Everley had been missing for about an hour after they got back from work. It had been snowing the entire time, so everyone was huddled up in the barracks, trying to keep themselves warm with distractions like card games and stories.
"I was playin' poker with the guards," explained Everley through fast breaths. He emptied his pockets and chocolate bars hit the table. "But you're not goin' to believe what I just 'eard."
"We might if we had the chance," said Luke.
"Yea, give!"
"The United States is in the war," announced Everley.
Everyone stared at him.
"Wot?"
"How?"
"Did the Germans attack them?"
"Are there any American prisoners?"
"Did this just happen?"
"Hold it," cried Everley. "Not all at once. Lemme just tell you wot 'appened!" He took a breath. "Okay, so I caught up with Berg when it started to snow and asked if I could play poker with him. They let me every now and then because I give them money and they give me—"
Get on with it!"
"So they had the radio on, an' there were these 'orrible German tunes playin' when it was interrupted by some kinda important broadcastin'. I couldn't understand a word but knew there were somethin' special about it, cause all the guards looked pretty serious. It was long, but when it was over, Berg told me I 'ad to go back to the barracks. I asked 'im what it said and 'e told me." Everley took a breath.
"Don't stop now!"
"I'm not, but it's a long story."
"You're the one makin' it ruddy long! Get on with it!"
"Okay, okay. So, anyway, the broadcast said that Germany and Italy declared war on the United States because the Yanks declared war on the Japs on December 8th."
"Why?"
"I'm gettin' there!" Everley took another breath. "The Japs attacked some US naval base on the 7th and killed a lot of their guys plus sunk quite a few ships apparently. It was a surprise attack, which got the Yanks all rallied up. Now, they're in it with us."
Everyone was quiet while they took in the news.
"Well," said Luke after a moment. "This is good. I mean, the Germans can't defeat Britain, France, and the US. I mean, the US is huge. And last time they got in this, they were the ones who pushed the tide our way."
"Yeah, but it's a lot bigger than it was then," said Peter.
"Always have to be pessimistic about it," asked Dean.
"Just pointin' out the facts," replied Peter. "I mean, last time the war was over a year after the Yanks got in it. I doubt it's goin' to be that quick again. Jerry 'as a lot o' ground, as do the Italians and the Japs. And if the US is worried about all three just like the rest o' us, it's goin' to be a mite more difficult this time around."
"Still," said Everley. "I think the tide is in our favor now. Look at it: The Russians in the East, British, Yanks, and French in the south and west. For the Japs, US in the East, Russians in the West, and Brits and Aussies in the south. They can't go anywhere else."
"Right," said Peter. "But 'ow long is it goin' to take for them to go backwards?"
The next day, there was another escape attempt made by Torben from the French compound. He cut through the fence and darted into the woods. Though he knew that the SS would be waiting for him, he wanted to give it a try, as he had yet had one. But he ran into nothing. It was basically bad luck that he got recaptured. The cut wire was noticed quickly by a guard and he set off the alarm. Torben was caught in the woods outside camp, but he had good news. The SS were gone.
"They're gone! I walked around for a good fifteen minutes and I swear, they're not there anymore," Torben excitedly told Louis. Since he had been caught so quickly, Major Duerr had only given him three days in the cooler. Now, he was out, and spreading his news.
"We need to tell le Commandant," said Louis. He walked off with Torben on his heels. They found Géraud and Torben explained his findings.
"Good work, Private Arcenau," said Géraud. "Now, you two better get back to your barracks before you are caught."
When they left, Géraud looked at Noël. "I'm going to have a talk with Major Duerr. I think a show is in order."
Noël smiled knowingly while Géraud left.
"You think after everything your men have been doing, that I am going to reward them with putting on a show in the recreation hall," asked Duerr incredulously.
"It could be on New Year's Eve, or Christmas, sir," said Géraud. "A time when we should celebrate."
Duerr just blinked at him. "Commandant, I am under orders not to give you prisoners much leeway at all."
"Who's orders are those, sir," asked Géraud. "The Kommandant's or Jöchmann's?"
Duerr glared contemptuously. "You have no business asking those kinds of questions."
"Excuser moi," said Géraud. "But I wanted to know who we were battling here: the Wehrmacht or the SS."
"You are battling the Germans," answered Duerr.
"A house divided against itself cannot stand," countered Géraud.
Duerr smiled wickedly. "You think to quote to me sayings of dead American presidents?"
"Those are the presidents your new enemy looks up to," answered Géraud. "Maybe you should learn something about them so when they are marching on your doorstep again, you can maybe ease their tensions." Géraud smiled. "Then again, maybe not."
Duerr just shook his head with amusement. "Our house is not as divided as much as you think. We are still bent on defeating you, the British, and the Americans. Trust me."
Géraud just nodded. "Well, we're a bit off subject. So, no show?"
Duerr smiled. "On New Year's Eve. There is no work as before on that day. I will open up the recreation hall for one hour a day so that you can all prepare. But tell your men that if there is one more escape before then, the whole thing is off."
"Yes, sir." Géraud saluted.
The news was given to the camp, and the men rejoiced. Everything that had been going in preparation of the show and escape started up again. Dust was blown off the tunnel and supplies as everyone made sure everything was perfect for the night.
At seven o'clock at night on December 31st the rec hall was packed with prisoners and guards. Duerr and the Kommandant were there again, seated up front with the officers. Géraud went up on the stage to quiet his men down.
"Well, another year has gone by," he said. "This is the second New Year's we'll be celebrating in here, and we want to make it memorable. So, thanks to the Major and the Kommandant for allowing us this humble celebration. So without further words we'll start the show. I hope you have a good night, and good luck to all of our entertainers."