Düsseldorf Radio Station
Major Miller was wondering the same thing as he went through his fifth...or sixth false start with reading the script. He essentially butchered the first few words of the script, over pronouncing the sounds and saying the vowel sounds the opposite of what they should be. For example, he purposely screwed up Guten Abend so badly that it came out "goo-ten ay-bend" instead of "goo-ten aa-bent" with the 'a' sounding like that in 'car'.
Longer words that involved several syllables, Miller butchered even worse, dragging out the pronunciation and even repeating some of them in the middle of word. When he made it through a couple of such words he would immediately ask in English, "Have I said that right?"
The agitation in the control room was marked on everyone's face. The two higher ranking Ministry officials were regarding Reigels and Anna with skepticism. General Burkhalter who, along with Hochstetter, had come in to the control room during one of Miller's previous false starts, didn't look too happy with what he was hearing either. Hochstetter....well, he never looked happy to begin with.
Reigels, having had enough, stood up and came out of the control room, approaching Miller.
"Major Miller, this is most unusual. We have heard you speak German on the Allied broadcasts with out nearly this much difficulty. Therefore, I can only conclude that you are purposely stalling, and you're continued resistance will not be tolerated."
"How do you expect me to read this when you won't even tell me what the hell it is that I'm saying?"
"You don't need to know what it is that you are saying. Only that you must say it." Reigels paused and looked to Miller's hands that were holding the torn script. He took hold of the Major's right hand gently, turning it so the palm faced up. "Tell me Major....how hard is it to play the trombone when one hand is broken?"
Miller yanked his hand away. He clenched it into a fist and glared at Reigels. "All right. I'll read your rotten script."
Reigels chuckled. "Of course you will." He turned and walked back to the control room.
When given the cue, Miller began to read.
"Good evening. This is Major Alton Glenn Miller of the Supreme Headquarters of the Allied Expeditionary Force, American Band of the Allied Expeditionary Force, United States Army. I am here tonight to explain to my countrymen and to the world my reasons for leaving England, and thus Allied command, and coming here to Germany. Please keep in mind that I am under no force or coercion to say what I am about to say and that I speak freely and without hesitation...."
The Bierstube
The truck from Stalag 13 pulled up to the front of the radio station. From across the street, Fritz and Emery watched from the Bierstube as the portly Luftwaffe camp guard, stepped out of the truck and walked to the back, holding his rifle in a somewhat lazy fashion. He dropped the tail gate and let Colonel Hogan and his men out of the truck. They then disappeared around the other side of the truck, which was blocking the view of the front door.
"I hope they're not going to leave that truck there," Emery noted.
Fritz was quiet, still watching. "Once the prisoners are inside, the camp guard may come back out to move it."
Düsseldorf Radio Station
With the recording finished, Reigels, Anna and the two other Ministry officers looked pleased. Miller felt sick. He folded the script and shoved it into the pocket of his uniform, turning away from the microphone and toward the band. They were all looking at him, horrified. He approached and Hans and Ahren stood up and came up to him. They spoke quietly.
"Herr Miller," Hans said gravely, "do you know what they just had you say?"
Miller nodded. "Most of it." He sighed heavily. "In a nutshell, I just committed treason."
"They will use that record during the broadcast."
"Hans, they're going to use that record for a lot of things."
"I would have let them break my hand," Ahren said defiantly. "I would not have let them force me to say what they made you say."
"It's easy to say that now, but you might change your mind when your faced with the moment," Miller said.
"You would let them break your hands?" Hans said, turning to his friend. "Your hands. You would not be able to play your instrument. Provided they would let you live after you refused long enough, would it have been worth it to not be able to play your instrument? Perhaps to not be able to walk?"
Ahren was silent as he looked at Hans. Slowly he turned his gaze to Major Miller.
"There's some fates worse than death, Ahren," the Major said.
"Ja.." Ahren said softly. "So there is." He paused a moment, dropping his gaze from the Major. He then looked back up, his eyes suddenly renewed with defiance. "That is why you should have escaped before now. Now they will force us to play for the broadcast. Swing music for Nazi's! You will let them make us play!"
"No," Miller said evenly. "We're not playing swing music for the broadcast."
Hans and Ahren both looked dumbfounded. "We will suffer a worse fate than broken hands if we do not play!"
"No, we won't." Miller looked at the two boys directly in their eyes. "Look, you're right, I should have escaped before now but I didn't. I made one vow though, that if things got this far, I would not have you boys play any actual swing music for the broadcast." Miller paused. He knew both boys were thinking that he was making no sense. He had given in to reading the script, now he was talking about blatant defiance by not playing any actual swing music? He had his reasons, which made perfect sense, but he couldn't risk telling the boys anything, not even at this stage of the game. However, he decided to toss a little something out. "You have to trust me. Nothing will happen to any of us."
Hans and Ahren were quiet for a moment and then Ahren pulled Hans aside and away from Major Miller.
"How does he know nothing will happen to us?" Ahren asked. "They were willing to break his arm for that script. If we don't play music, they'll think of something worse for us."
"None of us want to play swing music for this broadcast, and you and I both told him that if he should escape, we, as in all of us, would suffer whatever consequences were dealt, right?"
"Yes, but he has not escaped! He is still here. Now he has committed treason against his country--"
"But not treason against Swing. Remember, there are fates worse than death."
"You are speaking in riddles, Hans. What could be worse than death?"
"Being tortured, instead of just killed. Don't you understand? It is one thing to be alive, in the sense of being aware of what's around you. It is something else to be alive and to be part of what is around you." Hans pointed to Ahrens hands. "If you're hands were broken, you would not be able to play your instrument. Wouldn't that kill more inside of you than just ceasing to exist?"
Ahren nodded impatiently. "Ja, ja but the broadcast! They were able to force him for that script, they will force him to make sure we play what we're supposed to play. He just said himself, it's easy to speak defiance but when you're faced with the situation it could change. I don't want to play real swing music for the bastard Nazi's...but we don't know what they'll threaten."
"It doesn't matter. Herr Miller says nothing will happen to any of us."
"Wishful thinking, perhaps."
Hans paused and glanced over at Miller. The Major was watching the other idle activity in the studio. "I don't think so," Hans said, looking back at Ahren. "The prisoners, the other American officer talks to Miller one on one frequently. I am suspicious enough to think..." Hans let the rest of it hang.
It took a moment before Ahren's look turned startled. He looked around the studio cautiously before turning back to Hans. "Escape?" he whispered. "During the broadcast?"
"Possibly. If there is such a chance, then I am willing to put my faith and trust in him." Hans studied his friend. "Aren't you?"
Now things were making sense. Ahren nodded, but was still troubled by something. "Ja, ja...but the disc. He will still be considered to have committed treason."
Hans paused, looking around the studio. The recording engineer hadn't returned yet. "Perhaps, something can be done about that." Hans walked back to Major Miller and Ahren followed.
"Herr Miller," Hans said. "We will pass the word to the others. There will be no swing music for this broadcast."
Major Miller had heard the two boys as they were talking to each other but didn't know enough of what they had been debating. That much he knew at least, that they were debating. Then the tone of the conversation had relaxed and Ahren's posture had changed. Whatever it was Hans had said, it must of convinced Ahren. Now, Miller looked at the two boys and read the expression of trust on each of their faces. He nodded to them and they turned to pass the word to the rest of the band.
The studio doors opened a few moments later and in walked Colonel Hogan with his men, escorted by Sergeant Schultz and Kommandant Klink. Seeing the camp Kommandant surprised Major Miller. This was really turning out to be a full house!
Hogan and his men walked over to Major Miller with no protest coming from any of the Germans in the room. Most of them, particularly Burkhalter and Hochstetter were wondering, out loud, what Klink was doing there. The Kommandant happily explained what his contribution was to the broadcast: Making sure Hogan and his men behaved.
Ignoring the Klink's strutting and the collective groans from Burkhalter and Hochstetter, Hogan stepped up to Miller and cut to the chase. "Everything's set to go," he said quietly. "Things will start rolling as soon as you have us hit those wrong notes. We've also got it set that the transmitter will horribly malfunction around the same time."
Miller nodded. "There's just one problem," he said. "That script that LeBeau tore up? They still had me read it, and they made a recording of it."
The heroes all did a double take. "Oh no..." Hogan said.
"Bloody hell," Newkirk cursed quietly.
"Colonel, I stalled and hemmed and hawed and mispronounced everything as long as I could. I was hoping I could hold out until you fellas got here but..."
"How'd they force your hand?"
Miller held his right hand up and looked at Hogan. "They threatened to break it."
"Terrific." Hogan paused in thought. "Where's the disc now?"
"Being processed. Should be ready by the time we go on the air."
"Metal or acetate?"
"Acetate."
"Destroying it will be easy," Newkirk said. "We just have to figure how to get our hands on it."
"Maybe I can use the magnesium?" Carter suggested, pointing non-chalantly to his thick bomber jacket.
"Maybe," Hogan said. "Truthfully, all we need to do is get a hold of it and drop it on the floor. Crack it, break it."
"Stomp on it," LeBeau added.
"That might be kind of obvious," Hogan said.
"But just as effective." LeBeau smiled.
"True. Okay, let's all keep an eye out for any opportunity to get that disc." Hogan looked at Miller. "Including you."
The Major nodded.
The Bierstube
"They should have moved that truck by now," Emery observed.
Fritz looked at his watch. It was close to quarter to five. "We still have time," he said. "If they don't move it we will still continue as we have planned."
Emery nodded.
Düsseldorf Radio Station
Any opportunity for Carter to get into the control room wasn't presenting itself immediately. In fact it looked like the room was going to be perpetually occupied by somebody at all times. The two higher ranking Ministry officials basically camped out in the room, watching the activities in the studio through the glass. Major Miller had to make do with idle conversation from Kommandant Klink and General Burkhalter, both individually and then together. Watching the German Luftwaffe General berate the camp Kommandant was entertaining at least. More entertaining was watching the varied facial expressions of Schultz as the Kommandant spoke. Mercifully, the General finally pulled Klink away, speculating that the American must have had to prepare for a rehearsal before the broadcast.
Hogan and his men were seated with the kids on the bandstand, trying to appear casual. Major Hochstetter observed the activities in the studio from where he stood near the door. Anna and Reigels were in and out of the studio, taking turns to take care of last minute details, final scripts and checking on the production of the incriminating disc that had been recorded. They also were waiting for the arrival of a photographer. Anna was determined this time to get photographs.
At five minutes to six, a photographer arrived. It was the same man who had tried to snap pictures before and he wasn't looking all that confident that he would be successful this time. Newkirk, seeing his special part of the mission had arrived, nudged Carter for assistance and the two stood up one at a time, appearing as though they had become restless with waiting.
"We're not trying this again?" Miller said to Anna.
Anna only smiled. The photographer raised his camera and Miller immediately grabbed his own crush cap, placing it over the lens of the camera. The flash bulb popped.
The photographer lowered his camera and glared at the Major.
Miller replaced his cap back on his head and looked at Anna. "You just don't give up do you?"
Anna shook her head, still smiling, and turned, walking away. Miller looked at the photographer. The man had replaced the flash bulb and looked at the American, seeing the testy look on the bandleader's face. Just try it... he seemed to be saying. The photographer decided he would not try to take another picture of the Major and instead would try to catch him off guard later. The man stepped around the Major and walked away.
Carter and Newkirk came up from behind Miller and stood at either side of him for a moment. "Don't worry, sir," Newkirk said, "we'll give them some nice pictures..." Newkirk then stepped forward and Carter followed. Miller watched them.
The photographer looked to be contemplating taking a shot of the band. Hogan, Kinch and LeBeau all turned their faces the other way but would sneak a look back to see what Newkirk or Carter was going to do. Even the kids didn't look to want to have their picture taken either and several of them either turned away or held their instruments up to obstruct their faces. Newkirk was looking around the studio, appearing to not be paying attention to where he was going as he walked toward the band stand. He walked straight into the side of the photographer, forcing the photographer to push the shutter too soon and the camera to move just as the picture was taken.
"Oh I'm terribly sorry about that mate!" Newkirk said putting a steadying hand on the photographer's arm. "Messed up your photograph, didn't I? I'm very sorry..."
The photographer just glared at Newkirk and pushed the Englander's left hand away. But not before Newkirk's right hand managed to swipe a flash bulb from the photographer's pocket.
"Sorry," Newkirk said, keeping his left hand held up, while the one that held the flash bulb was brought down to his side and back a little. Newkirk then turned to his right and held the flash bulb out of sight of the photographer as he walked back to where Hogan sat with Kinch and LeBeau. LeBeau put his hand behind him and as Newkirk went around the Frenchman, dropped the flash bulb into LeBeau's hand. LeBeau then placed the bulb in the pocket of his brown overcoat.
Newkirk sat down beside Hogan. "He's got at least five more," Newkirk reported quietly.
Hogan nodded.
Next was Carter's turn. He stood patiently while the photographer put another flash bulb in and then watched as he lined the camera up again to try another shot. Carter waited a heartbeat and then suddenly jumped in front of the camera. "Hey, that's a neat looking camera ya got there!"
Click!
If anything, the photographer got an up close and blurred shot of a US Army Air Corp bomber jacket. The camera was lowered and the German looked at Carter.
"Oh..." Carter said, pretending to realize what he had done. "Sorry..." He smiled awkwardly and turned, walking back to the bandstand.
While the photographer was preparing yet another flash bulb, the recording engineer returned to the studio with the processed disc in hand. He paused to speak to Anna and Reigels a moment and then continued to the control room.
Miller looked at Anna and Reigels. "Gee," he said with sarcasm, "aren't you going to try take a photograph of me holding your precious disc?" He suddenly realized what he had suggested. He maintained his sarcastic look but was hoping they would jump at the idea.
So did Colonel Hogan.
And they did, hook, line and sinker. Anna smiled and looked to the control room. "Wendell, bring the disc out here please."
The engineer came back out of the control room with the disc in hand. Anna held her hand out for the disc. Wendell hesitated, knowing this was a very important recording and that he was responsible for it. He didn't want anyone else handling it but him. "What are you going to do with it?" he asked.
"We are going to take a photograph of Major Miller with the disc."
Wendell thought about that for a moment and then apparently decided that was okay and he handed the disc to Anna. Anna then handed it to Major Miller and turned toward the bandstand. "Colonel Hogan. Would you and your men come here please?"
Hogan and the heroes followed. Hogan put on a charming smile. "Let me guess. You want to take a picture of all of us, right? C'mon fellas, gather around..." The men gathered around the Major and Hogan turned slightly to Miller's anxious look. "I'll cue you when to drop it, don't hang on to it too tight."
Miller gave a half nod and held the disc gingerly in his hands. Anna and Reigels stepped back as the photographer prepared to take the picture.
"What's the German word for cheese?" Carter asked.
"Kase," Kinch replied.
"Say "Kase" everybody!" Hogan called out. He then suddenly leaned an arm on Miller's left shoulder, which was Miller's cue. The Major didn't even have to fake it. The sudden unannounced drop of his shoulder forced the record from his hands and down it went, hitting the floor and breaking apart into at least three pieces.
Everybody looked down at the smashed record just as the picture was snapped. In the control room, Wendell the engineer, paled. Miller looked at Hogan. "Now look what you made me do," he said in a mock scolding tone.
"Me?" Hogan argued. "You were holding the record!"
"You hit my arm!"
"I didn't hit your arm, I was leaning on your shoulder."
"Same difference." Miller looked at Anna and Reigels. "I'm terribly sorry..."
"No, no," Hogan said. "He's right, I bumped him. It was my fault. I'm sorry."
"Silence," Reigels said. He stepped over and bent down to pick up the broken pieces of the disc. He straightened, looking at the pieces and then at Major Miller.
"Was that the only copy?" Miller asked.
"Yes. This was the only copy."
"Well, you have to admit," Miller said, "it wasn't my best effort."
Reigels only looked at the American bandleader, grinding his teeth as he did so.
"Maybe you can have him record another one?" Hogan suggested.
"There is no time," Reigels replied coolly. "We have a little over an hour and half until the broadcast. I think the time would be best used for rehearsal..." He waved the Allied servicemen away and they shuffled quietly back to the band stand.
"That was beautiful, gov'nor," Newkirk said, grinning. The rest of the heroes were smiling in relief. Hogan looked at Miller with a nod. "Nice job."
"I'm just glad it broke when we dropped it....er rather, when I dropped it."
The heroes chuckled and Hogan nodded. "That and I'm glad there's only one copy!"
"Oui."
The kids in the bandstand were all exchanging glances of relief too.