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CM: This is all so… bizarre, Mr. Carter.

AC: Sorry, I'm making a shambles of your research. You probably expected more mundane stories.

CM: No, no, Mr. Carter. I might just change my focus: prisoners who kept fighting after they were captured. Do you think your Colonel Hogan and the others would talk to me?

AC: I don't know. I know the Colonel—the General—Rob—doesn't brag about what we did, even though he has every right to. I know it sounds funny, but it was all a really personal experience for us. They might.

CM: That'd be great. But okay, let's get back to the night you were shot down. At that time you said you were just an innocent.

AC: Yep. I tried desperately to avoid it, but I actually landed on the roof of a barn. I couldn't see a thing, but the impact was loud, and not as soft as I would have liked. I heard a cow start moo-ing and I knew I was in trouble. But when I got up I realized I'd really hurt my arm. So it was really hard to get my parachute harness off so I could hide it, and by the time I managed, there was a ladder propped up against the side of the barn and a pretty fierce-looking pitchfork advancing toward me from below. The only German I knew at the time was bitte, danke, and strudel, so I said, "Bitte, bitte," in my most pathetic voice and tried to show them my useless arm. I wanted to say "friend" but I wasn't sure how, and I didn't think they'd believe me in my uniform, and besides, most friends don't come to visit by landing on your barn roof in the middle of the night.

CM: No, I guess they don't. So what happened?

AC: Well, gee, I thought I had to be the luckiest guy alive, because when that farmer's face appeared over the top of the ladder, it went from really angry, to really relieved! He got this huge smile on his face, and he kept saying, "Amerikaner, Amerikaner!" over and over again and nodding a lot. Someone down on the ground kept "shush"-ing him. I felt like the Prodigal Son come home, you know?

Anyway, the fella must have been in his fifties or sixties, and he climbed all the way up to help me with my parachute. By now I wasn't so scared any more, so I relaxed a little, but my arm was hurting pretty badly, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to hold onto a ladder, not to mention my legs were shaking after all the excitement of bailing out of the Gooney Bird, and I wasn't even sure about being able to stand without falling over.

The farmer was saying things I didn't understand, but he gestured a lot, so eventually we had some sort of communication going. He wanted my parachute, so I pushed it over to him and he dropped it over the side of the barn. By the time I got down, it had disappeared and I never saw it again, so someone must have hidden it for me. Then the man started poking me right there on the roof, like he was making sure I wasn't hurt. But when he squeezed my arm it hurt a lot, so I yelped and he let go. He shook his head like old Doctor North used to when you'd stood outside in the rain without your galoshes, and then checked out the rest of me just by sight.

I must have passed his test because he grunted and nodded, and then pointed to the ladder and raised his eyebrows. I shrugged to tell him I didn't know if I could make it down on my own. But he nodded and smiled a little and held out his arm, so I could use it to steady myself. As it turned out, I could stand okay, and I managed to get down using just my good arm.

CM: Weren't you scared that these people might turn you in, Mr. Carter?

AC: I suppose that was in the back of my mind somewhere. I mean we'd all heard stories of how German civilians sometimes treated Allied flyers even worse than the soldiers did. But I think I was just too scared of the whole situation to worry about these people specifically. I mean it all seemed so surreal. When it's happening, you don't have time to think about it. You're in a plane; you're being shot at; you're jumping out into the night sky thousands of feet up; you're on some fella's barn roof… you just go with the flow. I think God makes us just be numb while it's all happening, because if we actually thought about it while we were in the middle of it we'd go crazy.

CM: So what happened when you got down?

AC: The man led me into a nice, warm house, and it was only then that I realized how cold I was. There was no snow on the ground, but it was freezing out and I'd lost all feeling in my fingers. When we got inside they started tingling again. I was glad because that meant no frostbite.

CM: Gee.

AC: The lady, who turned out to be the farmer's wife, put a hot drink in front of me while the man started stripping off my jacket and shirt and all that. I didn't really think about it; I just let him do whatever he wanted, since he seemed to have a plan. Anyway, he sat me down and grabbed my arm again, and I called out "Ow!" really loudly, but this time he just shook his head and kept moving it around. Eventually he stopped and said something to his wife, who came around behind me and patted me on the back sympathetically. Then she disappeared and came back with some material that she used to dress my arm. When she was done, she stood in front of me and made a cracking noise while pretending to break something in half with her hands. "Nein," she said. "Nein." Now I got it—she was trying to tell me that my arm wasn't broken. I felt a lot better after that.

CM: Wow. Were those people part of the Resistance?

AC: I don't think so. I think they were just tired of the war, and they didn't like what Hitler was doing, so they fought back in their own way. A lot of people did that.

CM: So if they helped you, how did you end up in a prison camp?

AC: Well, not everyone is equally helpful, and even I knew that, so the next morning I tried to ask for someplace I could hide, and I think they understood. They drew me a little map that led to a house and barn a few miles away, and after filling me up with water, bread and cheese, and giving me a bit to take with me, they let me go. They were really great. I never saw them again, but I sure wish I could have told them "thanks," once I could speak their language a lot better that I could at the time.

CM: How did you feel when you left?

AC: A lot better than when I arrived! But I was scared to death, and I didn't know anybody now, which was also frightening because I never knew if the next person I met was going to call the Nazis to come and get me.

The farmer had given me a real heavy sweater and an extra pair of socks, and boy, they sure came in handy. It was cold, I mean really bitter cold. I thought it was too cold to snow, but before I got to the place on the map we had a good snowfall, and I stumbled into the barn soaking wet and shivering.

No one ever told me but I think I was expected because there was a blanket and a flask with hot coffee in it in the corner where I was told to hide. I could tell by where it was that it wasn't intended for the person who normally looked after the animals.

After about an hour, I started getting really nervous. I thought someone was going to meet me here and then lead me to some people who could get me out of Germany. But then I wondered if I had misunderstood the farmer and his wife, since we were only moderately successful at best when we were trying to communicate. Anyway, I decided to stay put, and it wasn't long after that that I heard the barn door open and someone whispered, "Amerikaner?"

CM: Geez, Mr. Carter, what did you do?

AC: I didn't do anything. I had no way of knowing if the person was on my side or not. He came closer, and I tried to hide under the blanket but I only succeeded in making it look like there was a person hiding under a blanket. In the end it didn't matter, because next he said "Friend" in English, and since he knew I was there, it was either trust him or don't, so I came out from under the blanket and he shook my hand.

He told me his name was Fritz—his English was pretty bad, but my German wasn't any better, so we just made the most of it. He asked if I was hungry, and I sure was, since I'd gone through the bread and cheese hours ago. Then he told me to take off my wet jacket and he gave me his, and he pulled some food out of a sack he'd brought with him and gave me that, too. I can't remember what it was but it didn't matter because I was so hungry I would have eaten the bag and thanked him for the wonderful meal!

CM: It sounds like everyone was really nice. Hard to believe that's the same country that came up with concentration camps.

AC: We didn't know anything about that then. I know I sure didn't.

CM: So did he help you get out?

AC: He sure tried. He told me that the people who lived in the house were connected with the Underground and would send me through a network into France and then back to England. I was really excited about that and asked him how long it would be. He said the people had gone away but would be back in a couple of days, and if I could hold out, they would be able to help me for sure. I agreed, of course, even though it meant hanging around, and he told me where there was food hidden and how to get into the house if I needed to, but I would be safer staying in the barn. Then he said goodbye, and I was alone.

CM: I don't know if I could stay hidden for that long, even if I knew there was help on the way. What did you do to keep yourself occupied?

AC: Well I was actually pretty tired, so once I made sure I was hidden from view I hunkered down and got a lot of sleep. I still had my watch so I could keep some sense of time, and I slept for about nine hours once Fritz left, and I only woke up twice during that time. Both times I had to remind myself where I was. It was a really strange feeling.

After that I ate the some of the food he'd left me. It was pretty much eat and sleep. I didn't feel comfortable going out, so I tried to amuse myself by doing other things—singing songs, making animals out of the straw—heck, at one stage I got so bored I studied all the hems on the clothes I was wearing and made mental notes that I memorized about what would need to be fixed up once I finally got back to England.

CM: That sounds pretty desperate.

AC: It was! Eventually, I ran out of food, though, and the people hadn't come home yet, so I figured it was time to go check out the house and see what I could find in there.

CM: So what did you do?

AC: I kept watch outside all day through a little hole I'd made in the barn wall with my pocket knife, and after it was dark I snuck outside and made my way over to the house. That was my mistake.

CM: Your mistake?

AC: Yep. I should have gone hungry for another day or two. The Krauts were waiting for me.

CM: Oh, no, Mr. Carter!

AC (laughs): Well you had to know I'd get captured eventually, otherwise you wouldn't be here talking to me now!

CM: Well, yeah, I know, but—Fritz said these people were safe!

AC: It had nothing to do with the people who owned the house. The Krauts were on patrol and I was still too new to it all to realize that I should have checked out both sides of the house before approaching—not just the side I could see from the barn. I didn't even have out my gun, just my pocket knife. I was so green… so innocent… Well, let's just say I learned my lesson.

CM: How many Germans were there?

AC: Four. So you can imagine how useless resisting would have been. Still, when they called out "Halt!" I turned around and started rambling in English about how they must have the wrong guy, and I was only here because the people who lived here were family, and all that sort of stuff that made no sense to them because they only spoke German, and didn't make any sense even to me, and I spoke English! Anyway, I kind of waved my knife in front of them, like that was going to help, and they just raised their rifles. That was the end of that!

CM: Oh, wow!

AC: They marched me over to the truck that must have brought them to the area, and funny thing was the thought that stood out in my mind was that I hadn't managed to get something to eat first. Maybe I knew I'd be captured after all, but I hadn't thought of it consciously, and I was still hungry!

We drove for a long time until we got to what I found out later was the Dulag Luft.

CM: What's that?

AC: It's an interrogation center at Obrerusal, outside Frankfurt, where they used to process downed flyers before shipping them off to a transition camp and then a permanent home in a prison camp for the duration.

CM: Were you scared?

AC: Well sure, sort of. I mean, once I knew where I was, I knew at least what the process was supposed to be: interrogation, transport, assignment. Period. That was a lot better than being all at odds waiting to see what was going to happen. In a strange way, it was almost comforting.

CM: That's weird.

AC: No, not really, Charlie. I mean look at it this way: you're sitting in a barn, scared all the time, wondering where your next meal is coming from, or if someone is going to turn you in, or if you're going to be spotted and shot on sight, or if the civilians are going to discover you and beat the living daylights out of you. You don't know where you're safe, or where to sleep, or when to move. Then along comes a German patrol, and all of a sudden you're told what to do and when to do it, and you're given food and a place to lie down. Structure. It's a bizarre kind of thing, psychologically. I'm not saying I wasn't scared that the Krauts were going to drag me out of my cell and question me or beat me or anything like that—I'm just saying that at the end of a day, when they pushed you back into your cell, you felt a sort of relief that it was all over, and you could regroup for the next day.

CM: I hadn't thought of it that way. But the human mind does respond well to structure and routine, especially when everything else is really chaotic.

AC: Not knowing was worse than knowing. Anyway, I was at the Dulag for about a week. They asked me a lot of questions that I didn't answer, but they sure got sick of hearing my name, rank and serial number!

CM: What was the routine there?

AC: Well it depended on whether you talked or not. I didn't, so I don't know what it was like for anyone that did, but for me, it was get dragged out of a cell I shared with three other guys just before sunrise, I think, get taken down to a big room with only a couple of chairs in it, get asked the same questions over and over again, once in awhile get slapped around for not answering, and then get brought back to my cell.

CM: What did they ask you?

AC: Where were you shot down? What kind of mission were you on? What unit were you in? Who helped you to hide? That kind of thing. But all I ever said was, "Carter, Andrew J., Sergeant, US Army Air Corps," and my serial number. They didn't like that very much, but they seemed to expect it.

CM: You said they slapped you around. Was that a regular thing?

AC: Well, I had a bruise on the inside of my mouth for about three weeks after I left, because they really seemed to like giving me a good whack on the side of my face. It wasn't usually too bad, but there was this one goon who gave me a pretty good hit with the butt of his rifle and I thought he was gonna knock my teeth out. I got used to the taste of my own blood. But it wasn't really too bad, considering what some of the other people got. Some days they didn't hit me at all; they just asked the questions, nodded when I gave them my usual answers—or non-answers, depending on how you look at it—and then let me go back to my cell.

CM: What about food?

AC: They gave me stuff from the Red Cross, and I got real used to eating bread, if that's what you could call it. Not everything was going real well for the Krauts by then so they were running low on some stuff and they didn't have a lot of things that would make food taste really good. I tell ya, I really appreciated Louis's cooking by the time I made it to my Stalag. I ate a lot of bread and cheese while I was in Germany; I don't like it so much any more.

CM: What happened after you left the Dulag?

AC: They sent me to the Wetzlar transition camp after that. It's not meant for long term accommodation, just long enough for someone to assign you a permanent home. The Captain in charge there was really scary, though; I almost wished I was back at the Dulag. He made us do strange, senseless things, like stand outside for two or three hours while they counted us over and over again. He would stand out there in his nice heavy overcoat and lecture us about the uselessness of resistance by us and the Allies, while we nearly froze to death. He didn't seem to feel the cold.

CM: How long were you there?

AC: Two weeks I think, maybe a little more. They didn't ask me a lot of questions there, but I met some real nice people. We didn't get to know each other really well, though. It was kind of a defense mechanism—you didn't know if you'd ever see these people again after you left Wetzlar. Or if they got shot doing something stupid you didn't want to be emotionally attached. It was too hard to disassociate, since you'd all at least had the same thought of trying to escape, for instance, yourself.

CM: I had no idea it was like this, Mr. Carter.

AC: If you wanted to survive being in your enemy's country and under his control, Charlie, you had to do all sorts of things that you wouldn't normally do.

CM: And that's why you became a spy?

AC: I don't know—I guess I just did that because it was a chance to fight back. I saw what Colonel Hogan was doing, and I'd heard the stories about him from before I got to camp, and I thought, "I've gotta help him. I've gotta do that, too." Both because of him, and because it was a good chance to fight the Germans doing something I was good at.

CM: Blowing things up.

AC: Yeah. And playing German officers, I learned later.

CM: What was the next step?

AC: Movement to a permanent camp. I was hauled out one morning and told I was being sent to my new home for the rest of the war.

The transcript ended there; the conversation had gone right off track after that, as Carter had regaled Charlie with impersonations and explanations of everyone he'd known and worked with in Germany. Carter nodded thoughtfully and took off the reading glasses he had retrieved part way through reading. He sat for a moment, memories flooding back through him as they had so often since this conversation had taken place, and he sighed as he turned back to the note the young man had sent with the pages.

Thanks so much for taking the time to talk to me. I know I sure wouldn't have gotten this information from any textbook! And I won't tell all your secrets, like I promised. You'll be listed in my paper as "Mr. C.," which could be anyone. If you think any of your friends from back then would talk to me, just let me know. I don't want to push, Mr. Carter, but that would sure be fantastic.

Sincerely,

Charlie Mathers

Carter stood up and put the letter on the table next to him, then went over to his telephone table, where he pulled out a small address book that had been buried under another pile of papers and books. He opened it and looked through the pages, his eyes finally alighting on the name he had not even realized he had been looking for. He picked up the phone, dialed carefully, and waited.

"Uh, hello. May I please speak with Colonel—I mean, with Rob? This is Andrew Carter from Stalag 13."