*peeks around the corner* Hey guys. Gosh, it's been a month since my last update... I am so sorry! I got stuck on the transitions between scenes because I had these little snippets and images and just couldn't get them to fit together in a good way. I hope it turned out alright.
Please note that I've put another author's note at the bottom with some historic facts I make reference to in the chapter, so be sure to check it out :)
As always, a massive thank you to everyone reading this story and taking the time to leave a review! It makes me so happy to read your thoughts and what you think of the story and characters.
Easy had been given orders to head for Berchtesgaden, the Nazi leaders' mountain retreat in the South Bavarian Alps. The weather, sunny and warm, infused the atmosphere with a general amiable cheer and not even the enormous rock slide blocking the road – the enemy must have blown half the mountainside to hinder the Allied advance – put a damper on the company's good mood. The soldiers were content to shoot the breeze, soak in the sun or waste a couple of grenades and bazooka rounds on the mass of boulders.
Sitting against the tires of one of trucks, Liebgott was distracted from taking in the gorgeous, peaceful landscape when Louise chuckled. She was lounging next to him, reading her letters from home with her legs kicked up on his lap, his arms comfortably resting on her shins.
"Listen to this", she said, "this is great: Your father is of course being his usual stubborn and unreasonable self. He is completely unwilling to compromise and seems bound and determined to stake claim to everything that is dear to me."
She grinned at his snort, then shuffled the papers around to read another passage: "And here's what my father wrote: As always, your mother is making things far more difficult than they have to be with her exaggerated sentimentality and fits of female hysteria. She insists on keeping several items which are important to me and contests my claims of rightful ownership of countless others."
She rolled her eyes, laughed lightly. "They're so bloody dramatic."
"Jesus Christ." Liebgott scoffed, shaking his head. "What're they telling you that for? You're an ocean away in a fucking war."
"Well, they're expecting me to take their side."
"Fuck. Good thing you lived with your grandparents, else you might've turned out like that, too."
She laughed, nudged him with her knee.
.
To the veterans, the sight of Louise and Liebgott amiably sharing space, their animated bantering and bickering exchanged for quiet conversations, smiles and silent company, was nothing new. The newest bunch of replacements, however, had a very different impression of their relationship, and the scene brought them up short.
The pair looked up as one when the new kids stopped and stared. "See something interesting?", Louise asked, interrupting her recount of how her cousin Charlie had accidentally blown up the shed in Gramps' backyard the first time – something which he'd managed to do again according to his letter.
"No, I, we, uh, sorry Ma'am", Corporal Raymond fumbled, taking a step back.
Private Collette, nicknamed Collie, shuffled his feet, opened his mouth and closed it again. Louise and Liebgott held a full conversation in a brief glance and turned back to the awkward gaggle of replacements.
"You hate each other!", Corporal Haley blurted eventually, gesturing between them like he was upset that they would just sit together in peace.
Louise's eyebrows arched at the accusation. "Whatever gave you that stupid idea?"
"You fight all the time!"
Again, the two veterans glanced at each other, twin frowns appearing on their features. "No we don't?"
Gaining confidence from the fact that they hadn't reacted with instant violence or fury, Collette spoke up: "Of course you do, you're constantly fighting and arguing about everything."
"Oh you think that's fighting?", Liebgott laughed.
"Pipsqueak", Louise said, not even blinking when Liebgott shifted her boot a little so her heel didn't dig into his thigh, "it's called having a stimulating, animated conversation. You ought to try it some time."
"But, but…"
"Hens but", she shot back, "and as far as I can see, you have neither feathers nor the ability to lay eggs."
Liebgott smirked, idly tapping his fingers against Louise's shin. Collette flushed and Haley snickered. Raymond, seemingly the most sensible of the three, cleared his throat. "It's just, you insult each other all the time, so we thought..." He trailed off with a shrug.
Louise blinked, turned to Liebgott, who looked both disinterested and faintly confused. "We do?"
"Yeah!", Haley exclaimed. "Like when you called her a beanstalk Limey."
"Or when she told you to go fornicate with a cactus", Collette added.
Catching Louise's bemused expression, Liebgott asked blankly: "You ever heard of friendly banter?"
"Friendly?!" Haley's voice actually cracked in his consternation. "She called you a sanctimonious coat rack!"
"Yeees…?"
Haley threw up his hands and stormed off, muttering about insanity and too long in the field. Collette followed him, equally frustrated with the veteran's apparent cluelessness. Shrugging to himself, Raymond headed off in a different direction, deciding that those two troopers clearly didn't hate one another but obviously had a quite unique way of showing their affection.
"Well… that was odd", he heard Fields remark as he walked away.
"Replacements", was Liebgott's dismissive response.
The warmth of the spring sun tingling on her bare forearms, Mia hummed tunelessly as she patched up her med bag, fragments of a forgotten melody stuck in her mind. She knew the song had words, but could only remember a broken line here and there.
A shoulder nudged her boot as somebody leaned against the bed of the truck. She lifted her head, tying off the threat without looking.
"Smoke?", Speirs asked, motioning for her to stay put when she made to move and clear some space for him.
She shrugged lightly. "Sure."
Accepting the cigarette from him, Mia finished her stitching and set the bag aside. "Are we still waiting on the engineers?"
"Yeah." Speirs' tone betrayed his impatience and aggravation and drew a smile from her. He huffed and sent a glare towards the rock slide blocking their path. "Going in on foot is not an option."
"I hope so", she said around a small puff of smoke. "Otherwise there'll be endless complaining and lots of blisters." Paratrooper boots were made for rough terrain, not asphalt roads, and while walking on pavement was less strenuous than off the tracks, it always resulted in sore, blistered feet unless the troopers took the precaution of padding the inside of their boots with strips of gauze or cotton.
Speirs caught her eyeroll and laughed. Mia handled the grisliest wounds and most explosive tempers without flinching, but if there was one thing that grated on her patience and unflappable nature, it was the childish whining – and yes, there was no other way to describe it – of grown men, soldiers, over something as small and inconsequential as a few blisters.
An explosion echoed through the pass, followed by the giggles of the soldiers that were passing the time by blowing up a few boulders per blast.
Mia smiled softly. It had been far too long since she'd heard Malarkey laugh like this – giddy and carefree. It reminded her of the cheeky, upbeat young man she had first met in basic training, thick as thieves with mischief makers Muck and Penkala. She blinked, steered her thoughts back to the present. Leaning forward and taking another drag from her cigarette, she dangled her legs and hummed again the splinters of music stuck in her head.
Turning his head to look up at her, Speirs asked: "Bored?"
"Not really. I just wonder how long it will take until command realises there are other ways up this mountain."
The light swat he gave her ankle was voided by the amused quirk of his lips. "I'll find out", he replied, pushing away from the truck and heading over to Winters and Nixon.
.
Half an hour later, whistles split the air and calls to mount up were relayed up and down the road.
Berchtesgaden had been abandoned in a rush, leaving behind a ghost town of fluttering white linens and papers rustling in the slight breeze. The silence was unnerving and the soldiers advanced cautiously, weapons at the ready as they moved single file on both sides of the road, staying close to the buildings. Looks could be deceiving and with rows of houses on either side of the street, danger could lurk everywhere, hidden in dark corners of entrances, on roofs and behind shutters.
"Eyes and ears open", Theresa murmured to her squad, scanning windows and looking for tell-tale flashes or protrusions that would indicate a gun barrel.
Rounding a bend, a large hotel came into view, red banners with black emblems glaring off the façade.
"Guess we found where Hitler lived", First Sergeant Talbert remarked with drily, eyeing the opulent structure.
With a quiet word from Lipton, Louise and Shifty split off with half a squad each to check all potential sniper perches. The remainder of the company set out to clear the houses and secure the area, the translators also tasked with collecting any and all papers and documents that might be of interest.
.
Within an hour, Berchtesgaden was under Allied occupation, the Berchtesgadener Hof claimed as the regimental CP and officers' quarters. A sweep of the town had confirmed that the place was indeed deserted except for a concierge, a frightened maid and a gardener.
The paratroopers, angered and disgusted by the immaculate display of wealth, prosperity and bliss, looted to their hearts' content. And if property got damaged in the process, nobody was there to complain. Unlike other towns that had somehow been untouched by the destruction of war, Berchtesgaden's idyll had nothing to do with luck or speedy reconstruction or front lines and bombings coincidentally avoiding the area.
Here, the most influential Nazi leaders had gathered, vacationed, hidden away while the rest of the continent had been plunged into death, chaos and ruin.
Catherine had never taken part in the looting before, always thinking of how the house owners must feel when they came back and found their home ransacked. She had no such reservations in Berchtesgaden. She wandered through the rooms and hallways of a house – mansion really – feeling dwarfed by the high ceilings and dark mahogany panelling.
She chuckled as Perconte discovered a cutlery drawer full of silverware and eagerly began collecting it in his helmet, not particularly caring about having matching sets.
"Catherine, you want some?", he offered when he caught her grin.
She stepped closer and plucked an immaculately polished knife from his bundle. It was beautifully crafted, the handle inlaid with intricate designs, the weight well distributed and comfortable in her hand.
"No." She slipped the knife back into the helmet. "Thank you though." She had her mother's silverware at home and that one didn't come with memories of starving prisoners and mortar-riddled battlefields.
Looking around, a writing desk in the next room drew her interest. Leaving the silverware to Perconte, she went to inspect the ornate piece of furniture. Raising the lid revealed an arrangement of pens, an inkwell and stationery that looked so expensive that bordered on the obscene. She pocketed one of the pens without thinking, then took the others as well.
"Pens? That what you're taking?"
Turning towards the sound of Bull's voice, she shrugged, twirling one of the pens in her fingers. "Gwen loves pens."
A memory hit her out of the blue. Her kids, three and five years old, lying on their stomachs, kicking their legs and drawing together. Gwen had drawn flowers for Tommy to colour in and had in turn let her baby brother draw the sun on her own picture, claiming that nobody could draw better suns than him. God, she missed her family.
"Hey." A hand touched her arm, startled her back to the present. "You alright?"
Bless Bull Randleman, Catherine thought as she blinked a few times, he looked actually worried. "Yeah, sorry, just…"
He nodded and patted her arm. "Thought of something?", he supplied.
"It's Gwen's birthday tomorrow." And I'm once again not there to see it.
Bull's eyebrows twitched a little and he studied her for a moment before tilting his chin to the pen still turning in her hand. "Reckon not many 9-year-olds can say they got a pen from Hitler for their birthday."
As morbid as the statement was, the simple fact that he remembered her daughter's age made her smile. "Well, I don't plan on telling her that detail."
"Didn't think you were."
Raised voices in the other room captured their attention. Johnny was razzing Perconte about his loot, the radioman firing back with vigour. Catherine stifled a laugh, reminded once again of her kids. Bull slid a glance her way, lips quirked in silent amusement. She shook her head and left them to their bickering, canvassing the rest of the room instead for things to send home.
All thoughts of looting were abandoned when orders for Easy came to head up the Obersalzberg and climb the Eagle's Nest. The troopers practically vibrated with excitement and exuberance and the scouting party that would head up on foot, in the lead of the vehicle convoy, didn't bother pacing themselves. They bolted up the slope with the speed and energy of mountain goats or chamois, following a few beaten tracks or scaling the terrain in the most convenient places. Every once in a while, they came to a stop to catch their breath, their exhilarated laughs and cheers echoed fiftyfold by the rest of the company on the trucks and by the mountainsides forming the valley.
Speirs led the scout group that consisted of five Toccoa veterans: Grant and Malarkey, Theresa, More and Popeye. Their collective competitive streak broke out and the race was on. Snickering and goading each other, playfully trying to outpace each other, their hearts were soaring high in the summer sky while sweat beaded their foreheads and trickled down their backs.
"Hi-ho Silver!", Malarkey hollered, making Theresa nearly miss a step as laughter swelled in her chest. The cry – so hated back in basic training – resounded like thunder when their comrades picked it up, cheering and waving from the convoy that meandered its way up the hairpin curves.
"God, I hated that phrase", Theresa said.
Popeye snorted. "Oh yes and it only got worse the more we heard it."
Catching up from where he had lagged behind a little, Malarkey cackled as he reminded Theresa: "And the more you proved him wrong, the more he hated you girls."
"How could I ever forget."
Sobel, like many others back then, had been utterly convinced that women had no place in the military and that they could never keep up with men. The longer 2nd battalion's women had lasted in basic training, not only keeping up but sometimes excelling and occasionally even surpassing the men in certain skills or exercises, the more determined he had become to try and push them into quitting.
Unfortunately for Sobel, his punishments and tactics had had the complete opposite effect, making the women only work harder, proving their capabilities over and over. No matter how many times he made them run Mount Currahee – in the dark, with full pack, double time, alone, together –, no matter how many times the women came back limping, bloodied, grey with exhaustion or with tear tracks on their faces, they had held out with grit teeth and clenched fists, iron-willed to spite their vindictive CO.
And the many treks and runs three miles up and three miles down paid off. The six paratroopers arrived at the notorious Eagle's Nest sweaty and breathing hard, but far from wiped out. After a few moments to slow their breathing and their pounding hearts, shaking out their legs to avoid cramping, and taking in the breath-taking panorama, the group approached the stone retreat.
.
Weapons at the ready, positioned before the closed entrance in a breach pattern that was second nature to all of them by now, they waited for Speirs' signal. On his mark, Grant and Malarkey pushed the heavy wooden doors inwards.
The room was empty.
With a flick of his finger, Speirs sent the soldiers to clear the rest of the building. Theresa followed Chuck and together, they swept through the corridors and rooms off the right side of the lobby, More and Popeye doing the same on the left side.
Once they were sure that no Nazi was hiding in a closet or behind a door, ready to make a desperate final stand, Theresa and Chuck shouldered their rifles, lingering tension and alertness bleeding from their postures.
"Time to explore?", Chuck asked, smiling widely, his kind blue eyes dancing like it was Christmas morning.
Theresa's own smile likely matched his. "Absolutely."
.
They came across beautiful paintings, together with some they both declared hideous but that must be extremely valuable, antiques, statuettes and figurines and all sorts of other treasures. They also found a big weapons cabinet. Some of the guns looked old, more decorative than useful, but some were clearly meant to be used in case of an attack.
Chuck plucked a Luger pistol from the shelf, pulled the slide back and locked it in the open position before examining it.
Theresa saw another one in the cabinet, but didn't touch it. Call her superstitious but the boys' fascination with those pistols and their eagerness to get one had resulted in Malarkey running out into a live battlefield and miraculously not getting shot, and Hoobler dying because a shot had gone off and severed the artery in his leg.
"Are you taking it?", she asked, nodding to the Luger Chuck was still turning around in his hands.
He shook his head. "No. Don't really see the appeal."
Flipping an engraved bayonet and squinting at the inscription for a second before she realised that it was in German and that staring at the words wouldn't get them to make sense, Theresa gave a hum of agreement. "Me neither." She tucked the bayonet back into its sheath and shoved it into one of her leg pockets. Mia would be able to tell her what the inscription said.
Turning to the other shelves in the room, her eye caught on a small round object. She stepped closer and picked it up. There was a push button on the side. She pressed it and the lid opened. "Oh, wow." She let out a two-tone whistle.
It was a compass, the rose artfully hand-painted, the letters N, O, S, W shimmering golden and the needle delicately shaped.
Chuck leaned over and made an appreciative noise. "Nice!"
Admiring it for a little while longer, Theresa closed the lid again and pocketed the compass with care, trying to ignore the stab of pain lancing through her heart when the stray thought Sam would love this crossed her mind.
Over the following two days, the battalion made several other interesting discoveries all over town.
Elements of Fox Company unearthed a huge collection of paintings and hidden caches of gold and silver artifacts. Cassandra picked out a gold-wrought pendant with a blue gem and late that night, gave it to Audrey in the privacy of their billet.
Audrey admired the jewellery with a reverent look. "What's this for?"
"It's an 'I love you'", Cassandra replied with a shrug that didn't detract from the sincerity of her sentiment.
Dark brown eyes snapped up, darted around to make sure nobody else could hear them. Then, a soft smile spread on Audrey's face and she stepped forward, pulling Cassandra into an embrace. "I love you too, Celia", she breathed into her hair.
.
In one of the houses, a group of soldiers from Dog and Easy found a library and some of them weren't seen for the next several hours. Word spread and soon enough, more people from all three companies disappeared.
When she entered the room, Mia caught a glimpse of Webster, looking like a kid in a candy store as he browsed the shelves and pulled volumes out seemingly at random, chatting excitedly with Ziegler from Fox about prominent authors and influential works. Off to the side, Esther was perched on a window sill, engrossed in a children's book by the looks of it.
Taking in the splendour of the room that was obscured by never-ending piles and rows of books, Mia moved closer to the nearest shelf. Spell-bound, her fingers ghosted over leatherbound spines, her eyes tracing over titles, a solemn, far-away look in the deep blue gaze.
"Das fliegende Klassenzimmer", she murmured, hand lingering on a beige cover. A little smile flickered over her face. "Papa's favourite book."
She came across other familiar titles, among them 'Reise um die Erde in 80 Tagen', the last book her oldest brother had bought before he had left for America, and a few of the Wild West stories from that magazine they had always saved up for and shared among all the kids on their street.
They have them as books now! She stood on her tiptoes, stretched, reached up and snagged two volumes, picturing the look of excitement on her little brother's face any time they had read one of those stories together.
.
Joining Esther on the window sill with a stack of assorted books, Mia leaned back and smiled when she saw what Esther was reading. "Biene Maja?"
"Do you know it?"
She chuckled. "My mother read it to all of us kids when we were little. Katharina hated it."
Brows scrunching a little, Esther asked: "Why?"
"I don't know, but as a baby, she cried every time Mama read it."
"Aw." She glanced down, tap-tapped the page she was on. "I think it's cute."
"Sergeant Nolan? Sergeant Nolan? Anyone seen Sergeant Nolan?"
Somebody whistled to get Vest's attention and pointed at Theresa, who was wedged in between several members of 1st platoon, laughing at the lively back-and-forth, keeping it light but also encouraging it just enough to maintain a perfect level of chaos.
"Sergeant Nolan?", Vest asked again once he'd made it over to the group.
She looked up, grin still dancing on her face. "Yes Vest, what is it?"
"Letter for you, ma'am."
"Ah, thanks." She took the envelope and went back to eating and listening to the banter, almost choking on a bite when Ranney cheerfully egged on the debate by ribbing Babe for literally tripping over a German foxhole.
"Hey, c'mon, Sarge, help me out here!", the Philly redhead cried, gesturing to her.
"I don't know what you want from me, Babe, you did trip over that guy."
Ranney crowed in triumph and Theresa turned to him with a smirk. "Now hold on", she said, "I also remember you shrieking like a kid when you found a snake in your sleeping bag back in Toccoa."
He let out an outraged squawk while the table roared with laughter.
"That's right!", Skinny piped up. "Never seen anyone move so fast."
Ranney huffed, still keeping up the mock-indignation as he groused: "Well at least Helen was nice enough to take pity on me." He grinned. "I can still see the look on Sobel's face when she picked it up and asked if anyone wanted to pet it."
.
Chortling at the memory – Sobel's expression had been the epitome of 'gobsmacked' –, Theresa turned her attention to the letter. She opened the envelope without checking the sender and unfolded the pages.
The familiar handwriting hit her like a punch to the gut.
She must have made some kind of noise, even though she was sure all air had been sucked from her lungs, because the noise level around her dropped, the animated conversation trailing off into a loaded silence.
"Sarge?", Cobb ventured.
Her throat was clogged with rising tears, she couldn't answer. Her hands trembled.
"Reese?" That was Bull. "Bad news from home?"
She blinked, shook her head, tried to find her voice. "Um, no, I-" She pushed up and away from the table. Meeting the eyes of the guys and seeing their genuine concern shook lose the tightness around her vocal cords and she managed a breathless "I need some air."
.
By the time she found a quiet spot to sit down, she was shaking all over from trying to hold on to her unravelling composure. Emotions raged inside her, too many to count, much less name. Pulling her knees to her chest, Theresa sucked in a tremulous breath, steeling herself before unfolding the letter once more.
Dear Reese
I don't know what they told you, but if Ma and Pa's reaction was anything to go by, you have only been told that I got shot down and was marked MIA. Which is true. But first things first: I am okay, I am home and I am so sorry for scaring you like that.
A sob worked its way up Theresa's throat and she read on, tears blurring the words and dripping down her cheeks every time she blinked.
I don't know how much will get past the censors, but I'll tell you what happened after my plane was hit. The right engine was damaged, I couldn't gain altitude and the radio was dead. I turned west because there was no way I could make it across the mountains back to base. I followed the Rhine river south and when the engine went out, I decided to put her down on a gravel bank in the river. I touched down on a gravel bank, but the remaining speed carried the plane into the water. But I could climb out and got to shore – not a scratch on me.
Here's where things got interesting.
Theresa snorted, heart still jackrabbiting in her throat. Now things got interesting?
Turns out, I wasn't in Switzerland like I thought. Reese, I tell you, when I figured out what the people there – some civilians had seen my crash landing and come to help – were saying, I turned around and was ready to dive into that river and swim across. I thought for sure that I was in enemy territory. But, turns out, I wasn't. Apparently, I'd ended up in a tiny country called Liechtenstein and they are neutral too.
"Huh?" She frowned, sniffled. She had never heard of that country before. But she thanked God for it because her brother had obviously had somebody looking out for him.
The people there were very nice. Before the police came to take me to Switzerland, they gave me food and asked if I was hurt, if I needed a doctor. I was fine, but I won't lie, once the police was done with identification and they let me lie down while they arranged transport, I had a good case of the after-battle shakes.
I got home this afternoon. Ma nearly fainted when she saw me. Nobody had told them I was coming, so I think she first thought she was seeing ghosts. There was a big to-do and I think I got some cracked ribs from all the hugs, but I don't mind. Pa wanted to throw a celebration, but I managed to get the idea out of his head. A big loud feast with all the neighbours and friends in the area? I'm used to noise and lots of people and rowdy meals now, but I just wanted a quiet dinner with my family. After all those K-rations and the military food (Air Force food is just as bad as Army food, I'm sure), I almost cried when the mashed potatoes tasted like potatoes and nutmeg. And Nana, bless her heart, insisted on making Rhubarb pie for dessert.
Tears continued to trickle down her face, but a smile spread on her lips as warm relief ballooned behind her ribcage. Sam was home and he was okay. He was safe. She sniffled again, wiped snot from under her nose and looked up into the blue sky to send a small prayer of thanks before returning to the letter.
It's late and I can't wait to sleep in my own bed again, but I needed to write to you first. There is so much I want to tell you and there is a lot that I can't put into writing. But I want you to know that I think of you every day. I love you, my dear little sister, and I miss you very much. Take care of yourself and hopefully, you will be home soon, too.
Sending you a big hug and all my love.
Your brother
Sam
.
Folding the papers with the utmost care and tucking the envelope into her breast pocket, Theresa wrapped her arms around her shins, buried her face in her knees and cried. The pressure of the pent-up emotions, the fear and uncertainty and the hollow sense of loss, gradually eased and when her sobs quieted into little hiccups and then petered off, she felt calmer and lighter than in weeks.
Passing a sleeve over her face, she got to her feet. She hadn't been gone that long, hopefully not long enough for her friends to launch a search party. She straightened her jacket and took a deep, easy breath, smiling to herself as she headed back towards the building they had repurposed as their mess hall.
A dozen heads swivelled in her direction when she entered, gazes assessing, watchful. Her seat had been kept empty, Johnny Martin scooting aside to let her sit down.
"You alright?", he asked, giving voice to the question that everyone at the table had burning on their tongues.
Lines of concern on foreheads, around mouths and eyes faded when she smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Sorry, the letter- it was just a shock. It's from Sam."
"He's okay then?", Alley checked.
"Yeah. Yeah, he's fine, got home a few weeks ago. Crash-landed on the Rhine, not a scratch on him."
Cheers and whistles went up all around her, then the other tables joined in as the news spread. A rush of warm affection swept through Theresa at the sounds of her brothers and sisters in arms celebrating her good news and the throb of longing for home lessened. She may not be with her blood relatives, but she was with family nonetheless.
The story of Sam's crash landing as it is described in the letter actually happened. I took the liberty to use it for Theresa's brother, but on 22 February 1945, an American fighter plane did in fact land on the Rhine after being damaged by an anti-aircraft gun while bombing train lines in Southern Germany. The pilot, Lt Robert F. Rhodes, knew he wouldn't be able to make it back across the Alps to Southern Italy where he had been stationed and since he didn't know where exactly he was, he followed the Rhine, hoping to end up in Switzerland.
After landing in the Rhine, the currents turned the plane towards the Liechtenstein side and according to eye-witness reports, Rhodes indeed wanted to jump back into the river when he was told that he was not in Switzerland. He had never heard of Liechtenstein, but once the locals were able to make him understand that it was neutral territory, too, he stayed until police came to transfer him to Switzerland. He returned to the States via Paris and London.