Chapter 23

April 1, 1945

Easter

News of the day:

"Simpson's Ninth Army crossed the Rhine at Wesel and continues pushing east as Hodges' First Army continues its attack on Paderborn. Troops from both armies are attempting to link up and encircle the Ruhr Pocket. Meanwhile Patton's Third Army is attacking toward Kassel, Mulhausen, and Meiningen while Patch's Seventh Army is moving toward Wurzburg, Schweinfurt and points east. In the first major French assault, the French First Army is crossing the Rhine near Speyer

"As our armies push further into Germany, SHAEF has to cope with over 350,000 displaced persons of all nationalities who are pouring onto roads and into towns and villages. Many of them are freed prisoners trying to get to their home countries in the west while others are Germans fleeing from the battles waging around them. Complicating the problem are the million plus German prisoners of war who also, per the Geneva Convention, need to be housed and fed.

"The attacks on German soil have led to speeches by Minister of Propaganda Goebbels urging Germans to resist the invaders. There are rumors that Hitler, who has not been seen publicly in weeks, has moved to an underground bunker in or near Berlin. In the meantime, thousands of bombers from both U.S. and British groups continue to pulverize military targets and cities in Germany and the other Axis countries.

"It is now confirmed that General Eisenhower will be the commander of the American zone after the war in Europe ends; General Lucius Clay has been appointed as General Eisenhower's deputy.

"Just in — the battle for the city of Kassel has begun."

Easter Sunday, 1945, dawned sunny and unseasonably warm in much of Europe. In hills, fields and gardens, trees were beginning to bud, and flowers and crops were pushing up through the winter-hardened soil.

And at Stalag Luft 13, Colonel Robert Hogan was at his desk at 0730 looking through piles of paperwork, his half-eaten breakfast sitting on the low cabinet behind his chair.

There was a knock on the door and thin, bespectacled Pvt. Lloyd Walker, who was taking Hilda's place for the day, came in.

"Good morning, sir," Walker said as he stood at attention, and handed Hilda's typed notes from the previous day to Hogan.

Hogan looked at him and smiled. "Relax, Walker. This isn't the War Department(1). In fact, even at the War Department, they're more informal."

Walker visibly relaxed. "Yes, sir."

"How did you get here again, Walker?"

Walker cleared his throat. "Got a little tipsy one night in London. Next thing I knew, I was parachuting out of an airplane with . . . Well, you know who, sir."

"Yeah, Randall," Hogan finished, his voice still bitter.

"Sorry, sir. Uh, sir. Two things, sir," Walker said.

Hogan looked up at him.

"First, got a call from Hammelburg. Monsignor Geisler(2) will be here at 1400 for the Easter Mass in camp."

Hogan nodded; Pvt. Ken Tiptoe's Easter service for the Protestants was scheduled for 1000.

"The second is that General Edmondson will be calling to talk to you in," he looked at his watch, "fifteen minutes."

An inward sigh. "Next time, Walker, tell me that first!" Hogan stood. "Radio room?"

"Uh, yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Walker hurriedly opened the door for Hogan and followed him out.

"Good morning, General," Hogan said in a cheerful voice into the radio. "Happy Easter!"

"Skip the amenities, Hogan; I'm catching a plane to Washington in a minute. Should have left hours ago but I was waiting on some paperwork. You're getting a Negro EAB in a few days. Don't know the date yet; you'll be called. Your second request . . . Why the hell didn't you tell me that Vrina Barish was an American?"

"Uh, is it important? I thought the Red Cross would know about her."

"Oh, they do. And they've got more red tape than I have! They politely told me to stuff it and shut me out. They did tell me enough to figure out where she came from. That was when the War Department got involved."

"The War Department!"

"Just the information services. But they had plenty to say about her. Born 1910 in New York to parents who emigrated from the German-Austrian border the year before. Parents worked as servants on a Long Island estate, etc., etc. - none of which matters. But, Hogan, you really opened up a can of worms by requesting her."

"Sir, she's just an ordinary girl," Hogan protested. "She does know how to handle things where POWs are concerned and had the guts to stand up to two generals, which is why I'd like to get her here. I figure she knows how to get through red tape. But she's really naïve about other things. What kind of can of worms could a girl like her have?"

"Naïve?" Edmondson's voice rose. "Hogan, that 'naïve' girl is one of the savviest business people you'll ever meet. She and her partners have fingers in more pies than most businesses can even dream of. And they won't tell me, at least not over the telephone, where she is either! So now I've got to drop by their offices in New York to find out.

"And it's not a can of worms that she has, my friend; it's a can of oil! A million cans . . . Make that lots and lots of millions of cans! And thanks to all that oil, your naïve girl is one of the richest women in the U.S.!"

And for one of the few times in his life, glib Robert Hogan was speechless.

Andrew Carter knocked on Kommandant Klink's door with his right hand, his left hugging a tray of food to his chest. He waited a second and then opened the door. Using both hands he carried the tray inside, and closed the door with a backward kick. Then he walked into the combination living-dining room.

Wilhelm Klink, dressed in a navy blue robe, was sitting on the sofa reading a book.

"Happy Easter, Kommandant," Carter said in a too cheerful voice.

Klink put the book down and stood carefully. "Frohe Ostern to you as well, Sergeant Carter." Moving slowly, Klink went over to the small dining room table, as Carter put the tray down. "Are you on KP duty, Sergeant?"

""No, sir. I finished my lunch early and figured I'd give Schultz a break."

"That is very kind of you, Sergeant Carter." Klink sat down at the table as Carter removed the covers from the plates on the tray. Sliced ham, mashed potatoes, a little gravy, corn, green beans and a large slice of cherry cobbler greeted his eyes. A few bread rolls were in a small bowl.

"Not as fancy as Louis's cooking," Carter said. "But it's not bad."

"It is time for me to eat as the rest of you do," Klink said. "No more special privileges."

"I don't think anyone minds, sir. We all think you're entitled to special privileges."

"Thank you, Sergeant." Klink watched as Carter went over to the sideboard and got a wineglass and a nearly full bottle of wine. "Again, thank you, Sergeant."

"You're welcome, sir." Carter watched as Klink took a sip of the wine.

Klink put the glass down, and picked up his knife and fork. "Why do I get the feeling there's something on your mind, Sergeant?" He sliced a piece of the ham.

"Yes, sir, there is."

Klink swallowed the ham. "Why don't you get a glass, pour yourself some wine, and tell me what it is."

"Uh, thank you, sir." Carter did as instructed and sitting, took a sip. "The other guys — well, they're . . . I mean, I was the one who talked to him, and Frau Anna too."

Klink glanced at the still young face, but tired face. "You talked to Anna and?"

"Friedrich. Friedrich Meyer, the crippled boy."

"Ahh."

"He . . . well, he told me a little about his accident and his friend, and some of the stuff that went on, and, well, and later, when, I mean, I was there when he left to go find you. And I guess he did."

"Ja, he did. Friedrich is a very resourceful young man, Sergeant Carter. He gave me his motorcycle to get back to the estate; otherwise, I would not have met the deadline."

"I guessed as much." Carter was silent for a moment. "Sir, when we were talking, he told me he didn't want to stay in Germany after the war."

"That does not surprise me," Klink said. "The estate would be gone. And with it, what he had wanted his entire life. He loved the estate, more than Anna, and more than Georg."

Carter nodded. "Yeah, that's what I figured. So, so, I invited him to my place, I mean my father's farm in North Dakota. I told him there were a lot of German farmers there(3)."

Klink smiled. "That was kind of you, Sergeant. Kind and generous."

"So, you think it's okay that I asked him?"

"Of course, I do. Friedrich has spent half of his life in a fight against the Nazis; he needs to spend the rest of his life doing what he was born to do."

"I guess I'd have to sponsor him or something."

"And his family. He will never leave them."

"I guess. I mean, yeah, that makes sense. I don't suppose you know how?" His voice rose hopefully.

Klink smiled. "Sergeant Carter, I am a German. I have no idea what is needed."

"Oh. Well, I guess I'd better find out. I guess, I'm not sure, I think they have to show they can earn their way?"

"Anna is a very generous woman, Sergeant, and a very wealthy one. She has made provisions for her faithful friends through her bank in Switzerland. The Heinz family, each member of it, will have enough funds for a new life in any country they choose."

"Oh. That's good." To Klink's surprise, Carter drank the rest of his wine in a gulp. "Yeah, that's good." He stood, twisting a napkin in his hands without being aware of it. "I guess I'd better go."

Klink looked at him for a long moment, noting the flushed, tired face, the tremor in his hands, his flitting glances, before saying, "Why don't you keep me company for a while? Then you can return the tray when I am finished."

"Uh, yeah, I guess I can do that." Carter said, and sat down.

"Have some more wine, Sergeant. Since it is Easter, tell me, what did you do for Easter in North Dakota?"

Carter poured a little wine into his glass, as Klink continued eating. "Well, when my grandparents — Pop's folks — were alive, we'd go to church in Bull Frog. There was a small Lutheran church in town built by the Germans who founded Bull Frog. Course, it's closed now; Bull Frog lost a lot of people because of the drought in the thirties. And the Depression too. But when I was a kid, there would be a big Easter feast at the church for the whole town, not just the Lutherans. Oh, the food — everyone would bring all kinds of food — lots of special ham recipes, and some lamb, different kinds of potatoes and vegetables and things. And we'd have an Easter egg hunt for the kids." A look at Klink. "You probably don't know about that, being a German." He poured more wine into his glass.

Klink smiled, inwardly raising a brow as Carter filled his wineglass to the brim. "Of course, I know about Easter egg hunts. And the Easter Bunny. Sergeant Carter, the Easter Bunny, Osterhase, we call him, has been a German tradition for hundreds of years. And so have egg hunts."

"It is? I mean, they are?"

"Yes. Our families, that is, my family and the Neumanns and the Meyers would celebrate many holidays together on the estate. The last one I was able to attend with all of them was in 1940, and it was the Easter celebration, as well as a delayed birthday party for two of the Meyer children."

"You all went?" Carter took a sip of his wine; it felt nice and warm as it oozed down his insides. Another sip.

"Yes. My mother, Dieter and Therese — little Wilhelm(4) was one and had discovered he could run," Klink remembered with a smile. "Franz and Norberta — Karla was three then. Norberta's father, General Reichmann, also went as a proud grandfather, not as a general. Wolfgang and Luise — the twins were ten and Walther was five. Heinz and Else — Brigitte had turned eleven two days before on Good Friday, Jutta was not yet five, Kurt wasn't even a glimmer in their eyes — Easter was early that year, March 24th. Of course, Georg and Friedrich — they were almost sixteen. Heinz's oldest, not a child any more, was Heinrich. He had turned eighteen the week before and had been picked as a medic for the Wehrmacht. A fact everyone avoided."

"Gosh, that's a lot of people!"

A faint smile. "And that doesn't count the forty other children and their families who lived on the estate. They were included in the egg hunt. However, since Heinrich was leaving in a few days, as was I, Anna kept the Easter meal small."

"Twenty isn't small!" A slight burp. "Excuse me." Another sip of the wine.

"It was on the estate. When Johann was alive, and the workers hadn't been taken away for war work, most celebrations had at least 300 people attending."

"I didn't know the estate was that big!"

"When I was a boy, it was twice that size. The estate needed many people to work the land and tend to the animals — remember, modern farm machines didn't exist back then. The workers and their families had lived on the estate for years; some, like Heinz's family, for generations. Now, with fuel and other shortages, they need more people again. Anna has asked for another hundred or so French laborers to work the fields; they should be there tomorrow."

"That's good for the workers."

"Yes, it is."

"If you don't mind me asking, sir, how did you celebrate Easter?"

Klink pushed his plate aside, holding off on the cherry cobbler, and poured wine into his glass. And Carter's. He settled back against the chair and took a sip of the wine. "First, there was Easter Mass at the estate's chapel for everyone on the estate who wanted to go. Then we split up. Our three families went back to the manor house for what you might call a brunch. The workers went to an old central barn that was often used for estate celebrations — weddings, birthdays, holidays and the like — for their meal."

"Did you have special foods?"

"Of course. The estate had raised several lambs and rabbits for use in the Easter celebration."

"Rabbits!"

A faint smile, and a gentle, "Many parts of your country also eat rabbits, do they not?"

"Yeah, I guess." A gulp of wine. "You see, sir — "

"I know you keep a pet rabbit under your bunk, Sergeant."

"Oh. Well . . . Mom, and Grams, always made a couple of really big hams for our Easter, and roasted potatoes, and asparagus — which we almost never had — and green beans and cornbread. And just a green salad." A funny look on his face. "You know, sir, I really miss having a plain old green salad — I don't remember when we just had lettuce and really ripe tomatoes right off the vine here. Oh, and dessert — Mom would make her Juneberry pies. Of course, the Juneberries(5) were frozen the year before; we've got six trees behind our house, but they don't get ripe until summer. Her pies were the best in town; even Mrs. Swenson — she runs the lunch counter in the drugstore — said they were the best. Every time Mom took them to a potluck, they'd disappear so fast. Boy, I miss her pies!" A softer, then a catch in his voice, "I miss her. And Pop. And Kenny — he'll be sixteen in September. Heck, I miss my baby sister Betsy Sue and I haven't even seen her yet — she was born this past January!" He took a hefty swallow of the wine. "What else did you eat, sir, besides the," a gulp, "rabbit."

"To ease your mind, Sergeant," Klink said with a faint smile, "our families didn't have rabbit that year. Just lamb. And not a roasted lamb, as was usual, but a diced lamb with green beans and onions, to make the meat last longer, and Klosse — that's a potato dumpling that takes time to make."

"I think that's what Frau Anna gave us when we had lunch with her. Even Louis liked the food, and you know how fussy he is!"

A dry, "I'm glad he approved."

"What about desserts?"

"There were several bunny shaped buns and breads. And since we were celebrating two birthdays, there were special desserts. Bruno baked Brigitte's favorite cake Blütennusskranz — a hazelnut and walnut cake — in the shape of an Easter bunny. Heinrich's favorite was Schwarzwaelder Kirschtorte — black forest cake with cherry Schnapps."

"Schnapps!"

"For the adults, of course. There was a separate cake — same recipe without the Schnapps — for the children." A remembering smile. "Georg tried to sneak a piece of the Schnapps cake, and quickly handed it to me when Friedrich caught him with it."

"Did he, Georg, did he do that often? I mean do something he wasn't supposed to."

"Yes. He did something similar during the egg hunt."

"He did?"

A nod. "It was held in the gardens by the duck pond for all the children on the estate. That morning, the manor servants hid several hundred decorated eggs for the children to find. Georg decided to start his hunt early while the estate's children and their families were still coming to the gardens. He had already filled two small baskets and was filling a third when Friedrich caught him. There was a short fight, which Friedrich won, and Georg's punishment was to hide all the eggs again under Friedrich's watchful eyes and not participate in the hunt."

"But . . . wasn't he the heir? I mean . . . "

"Was it fair to the other children for him to take the eggs?"

"No. But I mean, technically, the eggs were his. I guess."

"Yes, they were. And if Georg had asked his mother, Anna would have let her only child have however many eggs he wanted, and made certain that he shared it with the others. But he didn't ask; he just took. Remember as the heir to a big estate, he would be responsible for the people who worked there. He needed to learn to be responsible, fair, compassionate, generous. Every child should learn that. But when others' lives are dependent on you, on him, it was even more important. So there were times when Friedrich reminded him of that, sometimes very forcefully."

"And no one minded, his parents?"

"By the time Georg was seven, Anna had lost three unborn babies, and Anna and Johann knew there would be no more. It hurt both of them. But by then, it was clear that the boys, born two days apart, were as close as any brothers could be. Anna and Johann were busy people, and very rich, responsible for the lives of the hundreds who lived on the estate and even more outside the estate. They knew they couldn't give their active and bright child the attention he needed to thrive as a child. So they turned to Heinz and Else who knew well how to deal with a bright, adventurous child, and were among the few on the estate who didn't treat Georg as a little prince. Georg and Friedrich grew up together — they played together, studied together, competed with each other, fought each other, and followed Heinz around the estate, learning from him. Georg had a habit of sneaking out of his bedroom in the manor house late at night and running to Friedrich's house, getting him out of bed." An unconscious sigh. "That was how the boys learned about the Resistance tunnels and activities. But you were asking about Easter."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you know what the Ostereierbaum is, Sergeant?"

"Well, Ostern is Easter, and Baum is tree. Easter tree? That can't be right!" Another sip from his rapidly emptying glass.

"Easter egg tree, Sergeant. An old German tradition. As we decorate Christmas trees, we would decorate a tree with eggs."

Carter giggled, and then hiccupped. "Excuse me."

Klink pretended not to notice. "Most of the eggs the children found were wooden eggs or eggshells, painted and passed down for generations to hang on the tree. Even when they were younger, Georg and Friedrich would climb to the highest branches to decorate the tree. That Easter was no exception. The boys raced to the Easter tree, and climbed to the top. Georg won the race, and the climb to the top; by then, he was two inches taller than Friedrich with a longer reach. But Friedrich was right behind him. The two boys hung the eggs from the tallest branches, working together as the eggs were passed up to them. It was one of the many times when we adults could see how the two would be as owner and steward. Friends since birth, knowing each other very well, and trusting each other. I wasn't the only one who thought the estate would be in good hands, very good hands after Anna and Heinz were gone. And after the tree was decorated, there were games for all the children, and more food for everyone. Later, my family went back to Leipzig, and I spent the night at the estate."

"Sounds like everyone had a great Easter," Carter said, his voice turning inward and sad. "Not," his voice trembled, "like me."

Klink ignored him, now seeing into the painful past. "I went back to the estate three months later masked as the Stage, Sergeant. Went back to see Anna holding the bloody, shredded body of her dying son."

Carter raised his stunned face to Klink.

"Went back to see a pregnant Else crying as Heinz and Bruno held her screaming child while a Jewish doctor dug pieces of a bomb out of Friedrich's leg." Klink's bitter eyes went to Carter's white face. "Two bright, happy, adventurous boys who had their whole lives ahead of them reduced to slabs of bloody human flesh, Sergeant Carter. They were not anonymous children who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were two boys I had known since they were born, whom I loved, whom I let go on a mission to bomb a weapons' factory." His eyes filled with sorrow. "And they are not the only ones. Binyamin(6) — a youth I knew as a child, shot in the head protecting me. He lived but I thought him dead until he showed up in camp a few weeks ago. Johann, Anna's husband, my best friend since I could walk — his skull splattered on concrete because of a mission I led. I wrapped my sweater around his broken head and laid him in Anna's arms. And others, friends, colleagues, men, women, I had known, who died because I failed to save them or because I sent them on missions that led to their deaths."

"But . . . But they knew . . . They volunteered . . . They knew . . . Weren't innocents . . . "

"Did you know, Sergeant?" Klink asked in a now gentle voice. "You were sent to observe a bombing when the RAF plane you were on was hit. Did you know, imagine, that some anonymous person could, would fire a flak gun and shoot you down? Did you know, imagine, care that below that plane were children, babies, old grandmothers, young lovers who would die when that bomb hit the ground?"

"But she shouldn't have been there!" Carter cried and rose. "She shouldn't have . . . She was just standing there in that blue coat . . . In front of the building! With bombs and fires and gunshots and exploding cars and everything . . . Where were her parents? Who was watching her? Why did they let her stand there? Why didn't they just keep her inside? Why did they make me kill her?"

"Why?" There was unbearable sadness in Klink's voice. "Why did I let Georg go? Why didn't I lock him in his room? Why did I let the child outside? Why didn't I lock the doors as the streets exploded? As gunfire blew apart windows, cars, houses, people? Why? Why? Why?" A sober look at Carter's twisted, anguished face. "You don't understand. Her family, those who care about her, understand even less. Every human being with an ounce of feeling has asked the same question a thousand times in their lives. Sometimes for silly, unimportant reasons. But others — why didn't I lock the door? Turn off the stove? Watch the road? Watch the baby? Or even — why did I close my eyes when my neighbor was taken? When people were beaten in the streets? When my son was put into a uniform and sent to fight a people I didn't know existed?" He looked at Carter. "Tell me, Sergeant — are you upset that she died because of the battle? Or because she died where you could see her?"

Carter refused to look at him.

"Or are you upset, angry with yourself, for creating those bombs in the first place?"

"I don't know," Carter mumbled. "All I know is . . . I don't want to do this anymore."

"Neither do I, Sergeant," Klink said in a soft voice. "I have been doing this, sending people, friends, children, to die for ten long years. And I am very tired."

Carter's expression turned resolute, stubborn, mulish; Carter drained the wine in his glass and stood. "I'm sorry I bothered you, sir," he said in a cold voice.

"You didn't bother me, Sergeant . . . . . . Andrew, I have no magic words to ease your pain for the simple reason that there are none. You need to find your way."

"That . . . that's what Frau Anna said."

"Anna is a woman who has had to live with pain for a long time, Sergeant."

"Yeah, I guess." A nod at the dining table. "I'll come back later for the dishes. If that's okay, sir."

"Of course."

An awkward attempt at a smile, and Carter left.

Klink poured more wine into his glass before asking in a quiet voice, "How much did you hear?"

Robert Hogan stepped from the hallway leading to the office door. "Enough." He looked at the door Carter had used, and shook his head. "I didn't realize he was so upset. It isn't like he's never seen people die before."

"Seeing a child die will affect even hardened killers, Robert. A reminder of the innocence they once had and lost." A sober look at Hogan. "He needs to find his way through this, Robert."

"I'm not his father confessor!"

"No, you are his commanding officer. If he doesn't come to terms with that child's death, it can affect how he behaves in the camp — with you, with his friends, with any possible future missions. Worse, it can affect the kind of man he will be when he goes home — angry, bitter, broken? Or whole, accepting what he had to do, had done in the war, and vowing to become the best man he could be in the future." A sad smile. "It is something we all have to do." Then, "I know you killed Schmitt in cold blood."

Hogan took a deep breath. "I prefer to think of it as an execution."

"Judge, jury, executioner."

"Yeah . . . Yeah." A look at Klink. "And you went down there to do the same thing."

"Yes . . . How do you feel?"

"The truth . . . I don't know. Right now . . . . . . Right now," his voice hardened, "I came to give you some news."

"Good or bad?"

"Depends how you feel about being surrounded by Model's armies. And the Allies."

Klink's brow lifted.

"Field Marshall Model's attempt to break out of the Ruhr has failed. Hodges' First Army and Simpson's Ninth Army met at Lippstadt. The Ruhr Pocket has officially been closed. I repeat, the Ruhr Pocket is surrounded by two American armies. Model's Army Group B and forces from Army Group H are trapped inside an area measuring 55 miles by 75 miles. Military Intelligence estimates that Model's Army Group B has seven corps and nineteen divisions for a total of 150,000 men(7).

"Additionally, after a bitter four-day battle, the city of Paderborn has been taken by the Americans."

In the tented headquarters for the rapidly moving First Army's 8th Infantry Division, two men in stained, rumpled uniforms saluted a more kempt colonel.

"Lieutenant Halsey," the tall, lean dark-haired man, "Sergeant Sands," shorter, lighter-haired, unshaven, Lewis greeted. "Happy Easter, and congratulations. You and your men did exceptional work in our latest victory over the Germans. So, as a reward . . ."

The men's expressions remained neutral.

" . . . . we have a special assignment for you. I want you to lead a small patrol to this location." He pointed to a spot on his map. "The area is being held by an American pilot named Hogan, Colonel Robert Hogan. G-2 would like you to make contact with him and give him this."

The Captain handed Halsey a pouch.

Guy Halsey took it without a word.

"You shouldn't have any trouble in that immediate area," the Lewis continued. "The place is far away from the front. Indeed it's isolated from it as far as we know, with no known German activity. You leave at first light, but you can take your time getting there. You will need to thread your way through scattered groups of Germans, some of them led by SS men attacking not only our men but also Germans trying to surrender. Stay alert, and take notes of any enemy troops you see along the way. But your orders are to stay away from everyone — Germans, civilians, our people and the Brits. Do not engage any of them or let them know you're around, if you can."

The men raised their brows, but Halsey merely said, "Yes, sir. Anything special about this Colonel we should know?"

Lewis slowly shook his head. "He's a real mystery man; G-2 was not exactly informative. We know that he and his men have taken control of the entire area, and our orders are to not engage any German soldiers or civilians there without checking with him. You'll be given a radio call sign when you pick up your equipment."

Sands and Halsey looked at each other and then at Colonel Lewis.

Lewis smiled thinly. "I know. Very unusual. But, according to G-2, that order comes from high above. So just watch it." Lewis walked them to the door flap. "You're to stay with the Colonel pending his reply to whatever is in the pouch. He'll be the one to tell you where you go next." Lewis smiled. "If the area is as quiet as we're told it is, this assignment will be a piece of cake. So, enjoy it."

Lewis saluted; the two men returned the salute.

"This is his idea of a reward, eh." Conroy Sands didn't look too convinced as they left the tent.

"A piece of cake, the man said. Stop being such a pessimist, Connie." Halsey smiled dryly. "Maybe we'll get lucky for a change."

"Yeah, maybe the war will end tomorrow."

"We can only hope!"

(1) War Department — Cabinet position in the US government from 1789 until 1949 when it was renamed the Department of Defense (DOD). Headquartered in the massive five-sided office building in Washington, DC called The Pentagon since 1942. Prior to that, offices for military and civilian employees were scattered in as many as 17 buildings throughout DC. The term "The Pentagon" is often used as a figure of speech (a metonym) for the DOD and its leadership.

(2) Act Three

(3) Over 40% of North Dakota's population have German forebears.

(4) Act One

(5) A sweet, dark purple berry, virtually unknown outside of the far northern states and Canada. Oddly, it is acquiring a following in Germany.

(6) Act Four

(7) U.S. Intelligence underestimated the number by half — there were some 300,000 men trapped in the Ruhr. The battle for the Ruhr was far from over.