Chapter Five – Schultz Knows Noth-ing About Covert Work
"Oh, hello, Newkirk…" Schultz's eyes grew wide. "Newkirk!"
"Hi, Schultz; lovely day, isn't it?" the Englishman said.
"What are you doing here?!" Schultz asked with incredulity.
"Well, as a matter of fact, Carl was just telling me he's really sorry they haven't had time to put in the trap door; an' I'm a lot sorrier than he is."
"Children, we are on Level 3 right now; I want you all down in the basement," Gretchen ordered; she could tell Schultz was upset, and that this man should not have been caught. "I need to talk to your father." Newkirk started to leave with them, but she grabbed him and pulled him by the ear. "You, stay up here!"
Schultz was fuming at him once they were gone. "One, you are a prisoner. Two, you are supposed to be sick. Three, if anyone is going to put a…" He began to think about what Newkirk said. "…a trap door…in my house…" His eyes grew wide. "Why would you put in a trap door? Mmm, do not tell me; just keep my family out of your monkey business."
"He is a prisoner?" Gretchen rubbed her chin. "At a prison camp?"
Newkirk laughed. "We're not prisoners. We're with the Happy Hammelburg Construction firm." He handed Schultz a business card.
"See, he is with a construction firm, like they told the children and I. He was in a local jail and out on work detail when you last saw him, Hans." When Schultz to correct her she jabbed him with her elbow. "Right now, I just want to know, are we in any danger?"
Newkirk felt the stony glare. "Why, of course not, love. Nobody knows I'm down here."
"All right. But, I am warning you, do not take any unnecessary chances! And, I want to know that if he is implicated in your so-called 'monkey business' that we are gotten out of Germany. Is that clear?" Newkirk agreed, and nearly tripped over his own feet leaving, the look on her face reminded him too much of his mother's as she tried to keep him out of trouble as a kid.
Schultz and his wife went into the basement, and after a moment of trying to figure out why there were eight children, he recognized the older two children as the playmates of his children, playmates he feared had long since perished. "Oh, I have never been so proud of you in my whole life as I am of you right now," came the weeping declaration.
The children drifted upstairs as Hans spoke to his newest children, telling them he loved them and promising not to tell anyone. He wished he could tell those Allied prisoners at his camp, but even this was verboten; after all, one of them could always slip and say something. Gretchen had told him that they'd hidden who the children were from Newkirk, and from the other man who had been there. She felt a great deal of relief, as she was finally relying more on the Lord and less on hiding behind some facade. She apologized profusely for not telling him sooner.
Though Schultz knew now, there were still other duties to perform in front of the neighbors each day, namely getting food for and taking food to Mrs. Mueller, to explain the extra food.
The sun took, to Oskar, forever and a day to set. The boy decided there was no time to lose, however. Besides, their ruse had many neighbors assuming Mrs. Mueller still lived. Their mother was right; if she'd suffered a stroke her voice might have changed into something like the one Heinrich used. Oskar traveled alone this time, though, grateful that his father now knew, and that his faith had restored in him. He stuck to the same routine, imagining himself harming the war effort, despising all the latest propaganda.
He –or, at rare times, someone else - walked to the widow's about the same time each night. Sometimes he entered her house, especially if people were outside.
He paused with the parcels in his hand, observing various pieces of furniture and other items which would get mentioned in letters he or Gretchen wrote for Mrs. Mueller to distant relatives - or were they just friends? - from Berlin. Every few months, since she "suffered a concussion in the air raid which has dimmed my memory somewhat," they did so, mentioning at times a "damaged right arm that has never healed properly, and which has led to my neighbors writing for me." He considered that this, too, could explain their visits quite well.
He smiled as he noted various knick-knacks, and recalled bits of a story Mrs. Mueller had told about one medallion from World War One. Yes, he thought, an excellent piece to mention in a letter; since he or, more often, his mother always spoke of what they remembered or saw. Everything was going incredibly well with this, the tunnels - the emergency one and the one under the rain barrel, on the other side of the house from Mrs. Mueller's - and the ruses. He almost shouted thankfully, but restrained himself.
He glanced out the kitchen window, feigning enjoyment of natural splendor as he moved his lips, mimicking speech. "I might savor the beauty if we were free," came the thoughtful prayer. "I am thankful for it, Lord, but it is our lives we are placing in Your hands. Who has time to smell a rose?" Somebody noticed him in the window, but they took no interest, so he knew they were not Gestapo. Still, he pretended to open the bag for someone out of view until the neighbor passed.
Oskar locked the front door of the overly musty house and snuck out the back, locking it, too. He slunk over to his own yard, tipped the barrel, and descended as Carl watched out a back window.
"He is in," Carl said, a message Heidi relayed to the others. The notice was unneeded, but it provided a chance to teach Heinrich and Heidi how to execute escapes more redily. They knew someday they might need to rely on them to perform flawlessly.
Micah, Isaac, and Moses came up for short periods at irregular times when it was dark and drapes were closed. Otherwise, they needed to stay down and be entertained by Hans' toys. As always, they felt eager to see one of their protectors. As he delivered the food, they sat by an oil lamp and talked. Oskar pondered some new stories - perhaps about what peace is like, or playing joyfully outside, as the Schultz children and their friends still did. At times he or the others would tell of the good times with their parents, though he disliked these, as they made all of them - especially his mother - tearful.
Moses' memories of his parents had faded as time passed, and he thought of Mrs. Schultz more as his mother than Micah and Isaac did; all three called her "Mom" on occasion. Oskar was mature enough to take care of them, while being young enough to play and to not remind them of their late father. Being reminded of the passing of either parent still upset the children.
Moses laid his head on Oskar's lap as the lad sat Indian-style. "Tell me about God," Moses requested, while Oskar rubbed the boy's back.
Wow, Oskar thought, there is so much to that. Moses smiled broadly yet tiredly; he'd heard Micah and Isaac talking about the Lord between games.
"Well, God loves us, and He's protecting you," Oskar began, reminding himself to always comfort them and ease their fears. He'd matured a lot in the last eighteen months. "He knows everything, He can do anything, and He is all places at all times. You know, we all do bad things, but God became a person to die for us; His name was Jesus."
He proceeded to tell them of an occasion in the Old Testament where Jesus appeared.
"Seeing you often reminds me of this," Oskar began. "Do you remember Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego?" The older ones recalled these three from the family devotionals. Oskar admitted that "the three of you remind me of them, and if it were not so obvious we would use that as code names for you. There was this evil king who ordered them to be thrown into a very hot furnace because they followed God and would not worship the leaders. It is so much like today, when we are taught to follow leaders without question, even if they disobey God."
The light from the lantern seemed to dance on the boys' faces, and an onlooker would have had a hard time distinguishing between the 1940s and the cell churches where people worshiped in hiding during the early days of the Roman Empire.
"Anyway, the furnace was so hot, the people who threw them into it were burned; this is like those who follow evil orders, they will be consumed even as they obey. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego were tied up and thrown in, but when the king looked in, he saw not three people, but four people walking loose in the furnace, because the Son of God was in there with them, and because they kept their eyes on Him, the fire had no effect on them."
Moses rolled and looked up in awe, reaching his hands up to touch Oskar's face. The lad bent down, and Moses kissed him on the forehead.
Our rulers, Oskar contemplated, are much more wicked than King Ahab, their code name for the Gestapo. As more Bible lessons came, Oskar considered the meager surroundings. A canister sat to their right in which they made bathroom duties, and a washbasin from the Muellers allowed them to bathe. A small oil lamp remained lit at times, and at times a light bulb was used, where it was so dark nobody could see they were on from the outside. These were rare, though.
Carl arrived to get the cannister, considering the trap door idea. He wondered what was under their room, anyway; he just pictured lots of formless goo. He played with the children for several minutes, then left with the container. We are functioning like clockwork, Carl thought, which means Albert will probably have us run another drill. A bucket brigade of sorts began, with water being carried down for the wash basin. The children took sponge baths, as always. Moses still needed help, and the others were aided, too, if only so more time could be spent with them.
Schultz enjoyed watching and helping – at least he could see do things and not get anxious here. Albert ran downstairs and had them run a drill, then ran upstairs to test Heinrich and Heidi on watching out the window for things. The family hoped one or the other would show some incredible acuity, thus allowing them to receive that job full time. They even had a crate in which the kids could be carried if need be. Isaac worried about splinters, and Schultz helped by running over it with a damp cloth to make sure there were none.
Once everyone was in bed and the couple was finally alone that evening, Gretchen and Hans cuddled together. "Hans, tell me the truth. Are those men you guard the same ones that have been helping us?" They were. "Are there times they could get you in trouble?"
"Oh, you would not believe the things they do. Why, just the other day…"
"Hans, I do not care what else they do. They are with a construction firm. You were on loan at a munitions plant to guard them before they were released from a local jail." He protested, but she insisted, "That is the story. You blabbed about a prisoner today, and you must not say that! I have given you a reasonable explanation; now use it."
He understood. "Would it help if I pretended to remember the wrong month for when Colonel Hogan came to the…munitions plant?"
"I am not sure what that would do…but I suppose. They would think you had no chance of giving helpful information then, so, ja. Hans, I love you."
"I love you too." They kissed.
"Hans…this might be hard for you. But, if you really want to help, I want you to seem more.distant when you are up there. So, if you are questioned about something that is done up there, there is less chance of us being questioned, too." Hans began to insist that he couldn't, but Gretchen was steadfast. "Hans, Albert has done very well in making it fun, and not being too strict, but I am glad for one thing. Our children know that any little slip could be deadly."
"I know; there are times when I think about reporting the prisoners, because it could be worth my life if they are caught and I do not." He smiled proudly. "I could tell you practiced some. This evening, I overheard him run down and say, 'drill level four, clothes on.' He uses more code than the prisoners." Schultz smiled. "I am so proud."
"Oskar coined the codes and many practices, but Albert is in charge of timing them and working out kinks. Any word after drill means they are only practicing one thing. In this case, it was quickly putting clothes on while in the midst of a sponge bath. Now, if the word 'drill' had not been spoken, we would be at our highest level of readiness before fleeing; in fact, they are to go to one of our contacts and wait at level four. Level Three, which I put them on when that man was here today, means being ready to leave. 'Level five' meant instant flight, with no stops, possibly not even to get our papers, though a trap door should usually let us grab the fake IDs."
"Please, that is too much to remember all at once." He disliked the idea, but admitted, "That is why I get the job of distancing myself from you; it is easier for my brain. Correct?"
"Precisely. Do you think you can do it?'
He looked sad, but said, "Jawohl, my liebchen."
Schultz was more than eager to help; he was so proud of his children, and so happy that whatever was going on, not only did his family not believe Hitler, but the children of their close Jewish friends, at least, were safe. So, once he got back home, he'd gotten over his sadness about being told to be more distant, and was willing to do anything to help.
He would still send his paycheck, and talk about how much his children ate. But yet, Gretchen had wanted something where he would not be connected. And so, he had the perfect solution. After getting to know someone, he decided to go asking for a date.
And almost got sent to the Russian Front.
Still, the prisoners noticed he wanted to do this, and got the implication much fast then he would have. And, they distanced themselves from him a few times, too, talking like they only cared about him because of their mission, while genuinely happy for him on another round of dates.
Late January, 1943
"We missed you at Christmas dinner," Gretchen Schultz said as she took her husband's oversized coat. Several of the couple's children came running up to him. He'd gotten a 24-hour pass, and decided to come home.
"I know. I ate with the prisoners. But, at least I got here earlier to open presents." He smiled thankfully, too, that he'd been able to accomplish the mission his wife had given him. After the children were all in bed that night, Gretchen asked if things were really busy, and he said, "No, I was just doing what you told me to do."
Gretchen looked oddly at him. "What I told…Hans, I said we could be a little more distant, I didn't say not to come home or write again! Except for one time, you did not come home, and only sent cards on birthdays. And then you ate Christmas dinner with the prisoners?" She began to wonder why she'd ever told him to do this.
Hans looked downcast. "I am sorry, my liebchen; it is just that when you told me I should remain distant, I felt it was best if I complained about your cooking…"
"About what? Hans, you would eat food if it tasted like old shoe leather."
"That is true. I have. Do you think I went too far when I took flowers to a lady?" She did. Schultz shook his head. "Boy, then you are really going to think I was a dumbkopf. Now, I have not kissed anyone else, and you know I would never do that. However, as part of my mission, one time, I tried to look for a date, and almost got sent to the Russian Front. Another time, I did go out with a woman several times."
"What?! Hans, you would not last three weeks in this operation!"
"I am sorry, liebchen, it will not happen again." He continued to speak sadly as a pillow hit him playfully in the head. "It is just that when my ears heard 'distant,' my brain said the more I disliked you, the more it would help you if they thought I was on the Allies' side. Then, they could never come after your or the children, because they would think it would do no good. And furthermore, that the most distant I could be from you is if I were single." The feather pillow hit him playfully again. "Ja, I know. I am a dumbkopf."
Gretchen was beside herself, but not because Schultz had cheated; the way he was explaining this, right out in the open, she could tell it hadn't been that bad, and he wouldn't do it again. However, she had a bigger problem. "Did you not realize," Gretchen complained, "that by openly dating a woman, as a married man, you drew more attention?!"
"No, I was too busy being yelled at for not knowing she was a Gestapo spy."
"A spy?! You did not even check her out before you did this, to make sure she was okay?!" Gretchen threw up her hands. "Hans, I am sorry I said you would not last three weeks with my mission. You would have trouble lasting three days!" Gretchen exclaimed. "I just hope no Ally is as much of a dumbkopf."
"Well, there is this Russian woman Colonel Hogan complains about. Then, there is the Englander who replaced Colonel Hogan once, and then he came back…."
"All right, so there is one in every military, and you are my version of that English colonel. Please, Hans, just keep being a faithful provider for us. You do a lousy job as anything else. This is the kind of mission that requires subtlety when it comes to dealing with others. And, you are as subtle as that fat stomach of yours!"
"I am sorry, liebchen." She let him feel bad for a moment, then finally accepted his apology, and they hugged. "It will never happen again, I promise." And, it didn't.
"I know it won't. Now listen to me, and you listen good. Here is what to do." He nodded. "You can complain about my looks, or my cooking. It might shock people, but if you do not like someone's cooking, there is something very wrong. Next, when you have a chance, emphasize how much our children eat. That should not be hard to believe," she said, looking at his stomach. He said it was true. "I suppose you can ogle women, or pretend to like a fraulein, but do not go all gaga over them. Do you understand?"
"Jawohl, mein liebchen. I will try to be subtle."
"And, do not drop those hints all the time. Come home more often. Balance it out." He would try that; he'd actually had a three-day pass ripped up by Klink where he might have come. "Good. I know you were only trying to help. But, help is only effective when the person is competent," she said in a loving manner. They hugged again, and went back to discussing more pleasant matters.
- Suchltz only says he believes Hogan came in September – but the following is wrong with this. The person who asked would remember easily, Hogan is such an annoyance. Figuring that as a writer mistake, Hogan had to come after America entered the war with his uniform, and since it took 6 months to train Schultz, the mission couldn't have started before March, 1943 if that were ture, and it clearly did, with all the mentions of Stalingrad, which was over by the next month. So, Schultz is trying to plant some disinformation for whatever reason.
- "Sergeant Schultz Meets Mata Hari" – Since they knew they could find out information through Schultz, this had to come after another episode where he tried to get a date; since the prisoners seem happy and aren't confused, they had to know why he was doing it. So, any episode where he openly womanizes is likely in this time span, though taking flowers to one is possible once after this. As for the prisoners, there are odd times when they sound like he's really only important because he ignores them, and others when they genuinely seem to like him. This, discrepancy, too, is explained by a desire, over the long haul, to protect Schultz.