Chapter Thirty-Eight: Everything Unveiled
Before going back into the audience, Géraud went backstage. "Okay," he said, looking over the men. "The show ends at 2200 hours. If you guys do the best acting jobs you 'ave ever done, that should mean that quite a few good men get to escape. So, make it good."
"It will be, mon Commandant," promised Louis. "You will never see a better acting job."
"Je sais," said Géraud saluted them all which they returned. Then he turned and left.
Lawrence turned to Peter and Louis. "There was a change of plans. You chaps are going to be the fifth act. We needed to make it look more realistic, and you chaps cannot disappear too quickly."
Though they were ready to go now, Peter and Louis nodded. They wouldn't have to wait too long. So, the first act went on, and Peter and Louis went to find Luke and Marcel. They found the two getting dressed in their escape clothes. Luke was in typical working class civilian clothes. Marcel—since he could speak German—was in a German uniform. This would hopefully get them further if they ran into anyone.
"Well," asked Luke.
"We're the fifth act," said Peter, as he straightened Luke's jacket.
Luke pushed his hand away. "It's fine."
Marcel chuckled. "How about me? It is not every day you are a boche officer."
"You look parfait," said Louis.
"I didn't want a compliment," said Marcel.
"Okay, okay," said Peter. "Me an' Louie need to get take our seats so Major Duerr doesn't get too suspicious. You guys just keep quiet back 'ere. We'll be back in a tic."
"Give a good show," called Luke as they left.
Moments after they left, Lawrence came up to Marcel. "I need your help with something. Come with me."
"Oui, monsieur," said Marcel. Then he stooped. "Oh, but my uniform."
"Don't worry," said Lawrence. "It's dark out."
"Just be quick," said Luke. "Four acts to go and we're out of here."
"Don't worry, Private," said Lawrence. "He'll be back in no time."
The show went on smoothly, and after Peter and Louis's act, they went back out in the audience and pretended to sit down. Instead, two other people sat in their seats, resembling them. These good men were a part of the Emcee Committee. When they had their cover, Peter and Louis slipped backstage to get into their civilian clothes and gather their papers.
Luke came up to them. "Have you seen Marcel?"
()()()()()()
Marcel and Lawrence had left the recreation hall and gone back to the French compound. There was only one guard at the gate and, seeing Marcel's uniform, didn't question them as they past. When they were at a safe distance, Marcel gave a chuckle.
"This must be a good uniform," he said.
"Aye," answered Lawrence. "It passed its first test perfectly. "You will be fine tonight."
"Hopefully," said Marcel. He looked around. "So, what did you need me for, sir?"
"I noticed something over here," said Lawrence, pointing off to one of the barracks. "Something written in German and I'm not sure what it means. I mean, I don't want to miss anything now."
Lawrence stopped in the shadows of one of the barracks.
"It cannot wait, sir," asked Marcel. "You should get some guard to read it. I must get prepared to leave soon."
"No," whispered Lawrence. "It can't wait."
Marcel looked at him with confusion. "Sir?"
Lawrence took advantage of the confusion and in one swift motion threw Marcel against the barracks wall and stabbed a knife into his gut.
()()()()()()
"'Ow long 'as 'e been gone," asked Peter as he scanned the crowd.
"Lawrence came and got him right after you two left us," answered Luke.
"Alright," replied Louis carelessly. "So the job took longer than Lawrence had thought it would."
"Too long," muttered Peter uneasily. "Somethin' went wrong." He turned away from the crowd and looked at Luke. "You stay 'ere an' get our stuff together. Me an' Louie are goin' to get Marcel. When we come back, we'll go."
"Okay," said Luke.
"C'mon," said Peter. He and Louis walked out the recreation hall and looked around the building for Marcel or Lawrence. "Let's go check the compounds. Maybe they 'ad to go back to the barracks for somethin'."
"But Marcel was dressed as a boche," said Louis.
"He would pass," said Peter. "You an I spent hours on that ruddy blanket. It 'ad better pass the test. Besides, it's dark. They won't see 'is face well enough."
Louis shrugged and followed Peter to the French compound. The guard stopped them.
"Did you see a guard an' British officer go by," asked Peter.
"Ja," answered the guard. "They went that way. Why?"
"We need the officer," replied Louis. After a pause, he added, "Major Duerr sent them on an errand and 'e wants to know where they are."
The guard pointed off into the compound. "Go then."
"Merci," said Louis, and he and Peter briskly walked off.
"Good thinking," said Peter.
"I am a natural at it," answered Louis with a smug smile.
"Ok," said Peter. "Let's start lookin' in the barracks."
"Right," said Louis. "I wonder what they were doing."
"Who knows," said Peter indifferently. He headed for the barracks straight ahead and walked in. It was dark inside, as expected. "Marcel? Captain?" When there was no answer, he shut the door. He saw Louis disappear around the corner of the barracks. Peter made his way to the next one.
"Pierre!"
The harsh whisper made Peter sprint over to Louis, where he knelt beside a twitching shadow. Peter skidded to his knees beside Marcel, whose German uniform was gone. He wore just an undershirt and a pair of trousers. His skin was near blue from the cold; and from his impending death.
Louis cradled Marcel's head in his lap. "Marcel. Marcel—Qui vous a fait ceci?" (1)
Peter pressed his hands over the knife wound to Marcel's stomach. But Marcel's condition was bad, and he was having doubts.
"Qui vous a fait ceci?"
Marcel's eyelids were low, but it was imperative that they knew. Peter gave Marcel's cheek a gentle slap. Louis was outraged, not realizing the complete importance of the information. Louis just wanted someone to release revenge on.
"Marcel," whispered Peter. "We need to know who did this to you."
Marcel opened his eyes, and he smiled at seeing his friends. But then he looked alarmed, as if he was only just sensing danger. "Vous avez besoin de partir rapidement." (2)
"Nous savons," said Louis. "Mais qui vous a fait ceci?" (3)
"Le Capitaine," gasped Marcel. He started coughing up blood. Peter sat back on his heels, and put a hand on Louis's shoulder.
"Le Capitaine," asked Louis. "Capitaine qui?"(4)
"Louis," whispered Peter hoarsely. "We need to go. Now."
"Non," whispered Louis frantically as he watched Marcel's eyes shut slowly. "Non. Marcel! Marcel!"
Marcel took his last breath and went limp as Louis's tears fell on his face. Peter started to breathe faster in shock. This can't be happening. He looked back at Louis and grabbed his shoulder.
"C'mon, Louie," he said, this time more urgently. "We need to go."
"We cannot leave 'im," argued Louis.
"We've got to," snapped Peter. He yanked Louis up off the ground and started walking. "Didn't you 'ear a thing 'e just said. Lawrence murdered 'im. You know why? Cause 'e wanted the uniform. Lawrence is gone, mate. An' if 'e disappears, that means our time to get out o' 'ere is short. We need to go."
Louis was in a state of shock and didn't respond. He let Peter steer him back to the rec hall. There, they ducked backstage quickly and got dressed. Everley said Luke was down in the tunnel waiting for them.
"Wot's wrong," asked Everley.
"Don't worry about it, mate," answered Peter, his voice still hoarse. "We're leavin'."
Everley assumed that the two men were so grave because they were ready to go. He shook their hands quickly and watched them go down the tunnel. When they were down, Luke was there with one of the diggers.
"Finally," he said. "Where's Marcel?"
"'E's not comin'," answered Peter stiffly. He still had a firm grip on Louis's shoulder. "Go, Luke. Get down the tunnel an' go to the woods. Wait for us there."
"But—," stammered Luke.
"Go," ordered Peter.
Luke was shaken by Peter's tone, but quickly turned down the tunnel and started crawling. Peter gave Louis a little push forward so that the Frenchman would follow. Peter followed closely behind. By the time Louis and Peter go to the end, Luke had already gone out. There was one other man down there, monitoring the progress.
"You guys make that twenty-three men who've escaped," he said with a friendly smile. "Good luck chums. Send me a postcard."
Louis didn't respond but just went up the ladder quickly. Peter gave the man an awkward smile before quickly following Louis. When his head popped up at the top, he looked around. The tunnel had come up right inside the tree line. It could not have been more perfect. Louis stood by a tree not far from the tunnel exit, breathing heavily. He seemed to be trying to hang on to his emotions. Peter quickly climbed out and grabbed Louis's arm and started walking. Luke joined them.
"Are you guys going to tell me what's going on," he asked.
"Later," said Peter. "Right now, we need to get as far away as possible." He gave Louis a little push and they started running. Luke realized he wasn't getting any information out of either one, so he followed wordlessly.
Only minutes later, a shot was heard back at the camp.
()()()()()()
Géraud excused himself from the audience and went backstage. "How is everything going?"
"Parfait," answered one of the men.
Géraud looked around. "Where is Capitaine Lawrence?"
The man looked around and shrugged. "I have not seen him since the beginning of the show."
Another man looked up. "He took one of the men with him to go do something. He said he needed help with something."
Géraud nodded. "D'accord. Keep up the good work." He slipped outside and started feeling his pockets for a cigarette. The he remembered; he'd left him in his barracks. Looking around, he decided he wouldn't be missed for a few moments. He walked at a quick pace back to the French compound. The guard, who had decided by now that the prisoners were being allowed to leave the recreation hall, didn't bother questioning Géraud as he passed.
Géraud walked quickly across the compound to the barracks and headed straight for his which was further in the back. But he stopped when something caught his eye: a man lying on the ground. He quickly went over to the man, and saw that it was Caporal-chef Marcel D'Orléans. He also quickly saw that he was dead, and the source of his death was a knife wound to the gut.
Géraud was at a loss of what to do. By warning the guards, the escape would be called off. But this man had obviously been murdered, and it didn't sit well with Géraud that there was a murderer walking around camp. It could be a guard or a prisoner, and the latter chilled him more. It chilled him, because it fit. A prisoner who wanted to escape more badly than others knew; and it had driven him to murder. If that was the case, then Géraud knew he needed to find the man now, before he did more damage. He thought about the suspects.
Marcel had obviously not gone with his friends, who Géraud knew had already left. Perhaps they had murdered him? But for what reason? They needed Marcel for his German. Even if they hated one another, Marcel was possibly a ticket home. And Géraud was convinced that the men's friendship was too deep. It could not have been them.
Then, Géraud remembered what the man had told him back stage when he inquired about Lawrence. "Mon Dieu."
Could it be possible? Could Lawrence be the murderer? But why? How? How could the man have deceived them all? He had been a good officer all this time. He had cared for his men, helped their plans, and even sacrificed some of himself for them. So why would he turn now. Géraud could only see Lawrence as the murderer in the same light as seeing Marcel's friends as the guilty: it just couldn't be true!
Géraud stood up quickly. He still needed to get to the bottom of this. There was a murderer running around his camp, threatening his men, and he needed to stop the man now. Géraud looked around, trying to decide what to do first. He needed to get help, and his junior officers were back at the recreation hall. Could he trust them? Well, he had to trust somebody. Géraud looked back down at the body, sadness tugging at his heart painfully; such a terrible way to die.
Suddenly, a shadow caught Géraud's eyes by the fence. He quickly crouched down in the shadows of the barracks, trying to obscure himself from view. It looked like a guard, and Géraud did not want attention brought to the murder just yet. He watched the guard pace a section of the fence a few times. Then the guard knelt beside the wire. Géraud's brow furrowed in confusion. What was he doing?
Then it struck him: Marcel had been wearing a guard's uniform. What if this was the man, in Marcel's disguise? Géraud got up and stalked towards the fence. He had to stop every now and then from the searchlights, but the man at the fence had placed himself at an angle where the searchlights could not reach him. Géraud watched as the man sawed his way through the fence and slipped through to the other side. Géraud glanced around, and then went after him. He surprised the man in the field. Quietly, he tackled his feet.
The man fell to the ground wordlessly. He turned around swiftly, with a revolver aimed at his predator. Géraud paled at the sight of the revolver, but paled more when he saw Lawrence's face.
"You," he gasped. "You…you cochon!" (5)
"Yea," said Lawrence, wriggling out of Géraud's grasp. "That's me."
Géraud slowly stood up as Lawrence did too. "How could you do this? How could you murder that man?"
"I decided I really did want to escape," replied Lawrence nonchalantly. "And he had the uniform that could fit me. It's not as if I didn't like the man."
Géraud was fuming. "You could have requested to escape," he whispered bitterly. "I would have allowed it. I had already told you that."
"I thought about it," said Lawrence. "But I realized I would have a better chance if I didn't escape with the regular crowd. I have this uniform, some papers I had drawn up for myself, and I'm going another way."
"How far do you think you are going to get," asked Géraud. "You are in a German uniform! You will be talked to often enough."
"Ich errate, dass es gut ist, dass ich Deutsch spreche." Lawrence smiled wickedly. (6)
Géraud was shocked. "You could have told us sooner that you spoke German."
"Why," asked Lawrence. "It was a valuable skill that I decided to keep to myself should the occasion arise that I could use it to free myself. And before you ask any more questions as to how I'm going to escape, I have plenty of money. Some of my men, as well as your own Frogs, are experts at getting money from unsuspecting guards. I just went and took some from their stash. So, now I have a good deal of money to buy transportation. You needn't worry."
Géraud just shook his head in shock. "S'il vous plaît, rethink this. You are going to mess things up. You will mess it up for the men who are trying to escape. "
"I've realized this," replied Lawrence coolly. "And does it appear like it's stopped me? Let me go, and don't attract attention to this, and more men will be able to escape."
Géraud saw his point, but the thought of letting this murderer go…
"Go back," said Lawrence.
Géraud didn't move. "Lawrence, listen—"
"Go back," Lawrence warned as he raised his gun more slowly.
Géraud held his ground, desperate to get something accomplished. "Lawrence—"
Lawrence fired the gun, and then ran.
()()()()()()
At the sound of the gunshot, the show came to a halt. Prisoners froze, and the Germans leapt into action. Duerr and the Kommandant stormed outside as searchlights roved quickly around the compound. One guard stood beside a barracks, only his flashlight signaling where he was. Someone ran up to Duerr and the Kommandant.
"Sir," he said. "We found a dead prisoner!"
"That was the shooting," asked Duerr.
"Nein," answered the guard. "This man died from being stabbed."
Duerr looked at the Kommandant in confusion, and saw the same confusion on his superior's face.
"Put the dead man in the infirmary," ordered the Kommandant.
Berg rushed up to his superiors. "The wire is cut on the other side of the French compound. Outside, the French Commandant is dead. He was shot."
Duerr's eyes flared. "Put him in the infirmary as well. Get the prisoners in formation, but don't tell them a thing. I want them out in less than five minutes!"
"Jawohl, mein Herr," answered Berg. He rushed off, calling for more guards to help.
Back in the recreation hall, the prisoners were covering up everything. Men were fleeing from the tunnel at both ends. The trap door below stage was shut and disguised, and prisoners started pulling off their own disguises and stuffing them quickly in hiding spots, praying it would be sufficient enough to not be found for a good while. Suddenly, the guards stormed into the rec hall, ordering everyone out. They went backstage quickly. Some men were still in their civilian clothes.
"Was ist los," asked a guard. "What are those clothes?"
"Umm," said Noël. "Costumes."
But the guard was not fooled. "Steigen raus! Jetzt! Schnell! Schnell!" When some of the men tried to take off their civilian clothes, the guard stopped them. "Go out as you are! Schnell!"
The prisoners quickly filed out in their usual formations. They slid in close to cover the gaps that escape prisoners had left. So far, no one knew how many had actually gotten out, especially sense at the end, many had just fled the camp. The guards began counting as Duerr and the Kommandant scrutinized the prisoners.
"Why are those men dressed like that," asked Duerr, seeing men in civilian clothes spotted around the formation.
"We found them backstage like that," answered one of the guards. "They say that they were costumes. But I don't believe that, sir."
"I don't either," murmured Duerr. He called some guards over. "Take a part the recreation hall. There is a tunnel in there somewhere and I want it found within the hour!"
"Jawohl!"
Duerr looked at the Kommandant. "Sir, I need to go make the necessary calls for security in the area."
"I will take care of it," said the Kommandant. "Stay here. When you know how many are missing, send that to me. When the tunnel is found, I want to see it."
"Jawohl," said Duerr. The Kommandant briskly walked away. Duerr grabbed a guard and told him to stand guard in the office with the Kommandant.
After a few minutes, Berg approached Duerr. "There are thirty-nine prisoners missing, Herr Major. Including the British officer, Kapitän Lawrence."
Duerr cursed. "Okay, send a man with that number to tell the Kommandant. Then, get the prisoners into their barracks. I want a guard at each barrack door and all other guards patrolling the compound. Anyone caught outside is sent to the cooler, no questions asked. The prisoners out of uniform are to go to the cooler. Send their officers to me."
A few minutes later, Noël and O'Neill were escorted up to Duerr, both looking very nervous. "Follow me," Duerr said in a clipped tone.
They went to the recreation hall, where they found the place completely ransacked. Floorboards were being pulled up, and now the stage was being destroyed. The two officers knew it was only a matter of time before the tunnel was found. They watched as a pile of clothes was made of all the civilian outfits and German uniforms that had been created. There was a box where all the fake documents were being held. One guard picked up a camera, and handed it to Duerr. Duerr studied it, and then handed it back to the guard.
"Keep it in the box with the fake IDs," he said. He looked at Noël and O'Neill. "The tunnel will be found soon, so if there is anything else you want to tell me, please go ahead."
The two officers looked at one another in confusion. "You are about to find everything," replied O'Neill.
"A tunnel does not explain why two men are dead," said Duerr.
"Dead," echoed Noël. "I do not know what you mean."
"Your Commandant and another Frenchman were found dead," said Duerr. "Why?"
The two officers were shocked. "We…we don't know anything about that," said O'Neill. "How were they killed?"
"Géraud was shot, and found outside the wire," answered Duerr. "The other man had been stabbed, but was found by the barracks. You know nothing of this?"
"No," said O'Neill. "You mean they were murdered?"
"It is starting to look like that," said Duerr.
There was a shout as the guards indicated that they had found the tunnel. Duerr told a guard to go fetch the Kommandant. Then, leaving the two officers with another guard, Duerr went to go inspect the tunnel. He could not deny that he was impressed with the tunnel. It was a good size, comfortable enough to crawl in without hitting your head on the top. It was well lit with the electricity too. Also under the stage, the work spaces for those who had created the papers and clothes were found. There were a few baskets of needles and threads of all colors. There were many papers and pens, as well as a few stashes of stolen money. There was also another camera. Lastly a radio was found, and when they turned it on, the BBC came on, talking about the memorable times of the past year. Duerr flicked it off contemptuously.
"Bring it all up," he ordered. "Tidy the place up some, too."
As the Kommandant came in, he saw Duerr climbing out from under the stage. He shook his head. "They've been working under our noses the whole time, sir."
"What more could we have expected," asked the Kommandant. "Update me."
Duerr told him everything that had been found, what he had done with the prisoners, and that the two junior officers were oblivious to the murders.
"They're telling the truth, sir," said Duerr. "They really don't know a thing."
"Okay," said the Kommandant. "I'm going to go make another phone call. I want you to get me a list of the men missing. With that list and the two officers, come back to my office. We're going to get to the bottom of this."
Nearing midnight, they were still in the Kommandant's office, getting facts straight. Jöchmann and his aide were there as well. O'Neill and Noël, since everything had been uncovered, were being more cooperative in trying to find out who was behind the murder. They had come to uneasy conclusions so far.
"So," said Duerr, trying to get his thoughts in order. "We've questioned everyone in the cooler, and no one knows anything. The prisoners in the barracks don't know anything nor are there anymore tunnels in any of the barracks. We've recaptured twelve prisoners so far, scattered within a three mile radius. None of them have a weapon on them."
Everyone was quiet, except Jöchmann who was talking on the radio with different search parties in the area.
"Sir," said O'Neill. "There are several men missing that weren't supposed to escape tonight. It has to be one of them. Otherwise, why would anyone kill D'Orléans or Marcel?"
"Yes, yes," said Duerr with annoyance. "That makes sense. But that barely helps us seeing as none of them are here!"
The Kommandant stood up, tossing his cigarette aside. He went to the window and looked out. Jöchmann put down the phone then and scratched through some names.
"That makes fifteen that we have recaptured," he said. "Ten of them were in their own uniforms, three in civilian clothes, and two wearing German uniforms."
"Who were the ones in uniform," asked Duerr.
"A Private Torben Arcenau and Sergeant Jonathan Cullen," answered Jöchmann. "Still no sign of the British officer."
The Kommandant turned around and held out his hand. "The list please." Jöchmann handed it to him and he studied it. He looked at O'Neill and Noël. "When were Corporals Newkirk and LeBeau supposed to escape?"
"Why would we tell you," asked Noël.
"Because I will bet everything that they know who the murderer is," replied the Kommandant. "Their friend was D'Orléans, and he would have escaped with them. Private Fairnth, the British boy that is always around them, he escaped as well. So, when did they escape?"
"Sometime between seven o'clock and eight o'clock," answered O'Neill smugly. "Something like that."
Duerr slammed his hand down on the desk. "Do you want to find this murderer or not?"
"I'd rather see most of these men get away," answered O'Neill swiftly. "If one murderer gets away, than at least he's not here anymore. And if Peter, Louis, and Luke really do know who the murderer is, they'll tell someone eventually. If they make it to England, they'll convict him there. If they get recaptured, then they'll tell us back here. But for now, I hope the just bloody escape and never come back to this hole!"
Both O'Neill and Noël looked at their captors defiantly.
"Fine," said the Kommandant. "Since you are no longer any help, you will be escorted the cooler." Berg called two guards in, and they took the two officers away.
"Now what," asked Duerr impatiently.
"We wait," said Jöchmann. "The prisoners are all near by. They didn't get nearly the amount of time they thought they were going to get to clear out of the area. They should all be recaptured within the next twelve hours."
The Kommandant shook his head. "They had everything. I cannot believe we were lucky enough to discover this before it really went out. Thirty-nine prisoners in an hour."
"Yes," growled Jöchmann. "You were lucky."
Duerr glared at him. "Are insinuating something?"
"I wouldn't get to homey around here," replied Jöchmann.
"We've been here over two years," stated Duerr. "We've already gotten homey."
"What, no family to go to," asked Jöchmann.
"Don't start with that," ordered the Kommandant. "This is not time or place to push us around. We have a job to do: recover all those prisoners."
"Right," said Jöchmann disinterestedly. He leaned back in his chair, and played with the dial on the radio that the prisoners had made. It switched on and a British voice came over the waves:
"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…HAPPY NEW YEAR! God bless you all! God bless 1942!"
()()()()()()
January 4, 1942
Thirty-three prisoners stood at attention in the compound in front of the administrative offices. The Kommandant stood on the steps beside Jöchmann while Duerr walked in front of the prisoners, surveying them all. For about five minutes, he left them wondering what their punishment was. Then, he looked at Berg.
"Put them in the cooler," he said. "Separate from those left behind."
Berg nodded and did as he was told. Just then, a truck rolled into camp. Jöchmann walked down the steps and came to stand beside Duerr.
"This must be our train riders," he said.
Duerr just watched as three men in civilian clothes were yanked out of the truck in shackles. They were escorted to stand before Duerr and Jöchmann.
"Well done," Jöchmann told them. "That was the furthest you made it yet. Tell me, how do you feel?"
They just glared at him.
"In my office," said Duerr. "We have some things to discuss."
They were marched into the office. It was crowded. The prisoners stood in front of the desk. Off to their right, Jöchmann and his aide stood by the window. Berg stood off to the left by the door. Duerr and the Kommandant went around to the opposite side of the desk.
"We already know everything about the tunnel, the fake documents, civilian outfits, uniforms, cameras, radios, ect," said the Kommandant. "So you do not have to worry about keeping any of that covered up. Right now, we are focused on punishing you all and gathering information about your escape. But we already know that you boarded a train on January 2nd and got off on January 3rd, fifty miles from here. So, you do not have to bother covering that up either. What we need from you now is information about the two murders that were committed the night you escaped. And do not bother pretending to be ignorant, because we already know that you know something about that as well."
At first, Peter, Louis, and Luke just stared at him with disbelief; disbelief in hearing him utter so many words and disbelief that they already knew so much.
"It was Lawrence," said Peter, sounding tired. "Lawrence killed Marcel. But you said two murders. Who was the other?"
"Géraud," answered Duerr in a soft voice. "He was shot outside the wire."
Louis cursed and rubbed his forehead with his hands in distress. "Ce cochon." (7)
"So now what," asked Peter.
"You go to the cooler until we know what to do with you," answered Jöchmann. They looked at him worriedly. They were too tired to hide any emotions now. He smiled when he saw that. "Do not worry," he said. "It should not take us long."
Berg tugged on their chains to make them leave the office. But Peter remained where he was for a moment longer as he looked at Duerr. Duerr looked at him questioningly.
"You told me that one day I would learn that there are men who were are going to save their lives before anyone else's," said Peter. He shrugged tiredly. "I guess I've seen that now. Lawrence fooled us all." He turned around and left.
"He fooled me as well," murmured Duerr.
()()()()()()
January 6, 1942
Two staff cars pulled into the camp and parked outside the administrative buildings. From one car, Jöchmann and his aide got out. From the other a Wehrmacht general and his aide got out. They entered the office.
After discussing everything that had happened on the night of December 31st, the officers came to their conclusions. Thirty-nine prisoners escaped through a tunnel from the recreation hall using the show as a disguise. Three men were declared to have successful escapes: Captain Lawrence, and two French privates. Captain James Lawrence was also deemed the murderer of Caporal-chef Marcel D'Orléans and Commandant Géraud Beauvais.
"Now," said General Weiss, the Wehrmacht general. "We need to discuss the future of this camp." Everyone—including Jöchmann—looked up at him in surprise. He did not acknowledge the surprise at all, but went on. "I know that neither of you want to return to a combat position." He looked at the Kommandant and Major Duerr. "That is understandable. But after this…fiasco with your prisoner escape…you must both be put somewhere else." He paused and looked over some papers. "Major Lance Duerr, you will have a field command in Africa. Tomorrow, you will go to the airport to be flown to Berlin, and from there, you will receive further orders. Here are your papers." He handed Duerr some documents. Duerr took them gravely. "As for you Colonel—" the general looked up at the Kommandant.
"I am not being sent to Africa either," asked the Kommandant.
"Nein," answered Weiss. "You have served more than enough in combat, Colonel. And I am sure your brother will do quite fine without you." The Kommandant and Duerr looked at one another in alarm. Jöchmann smiled wickedly and leaned forward with anticipation. But Weiss went on as if he had said nothing important. He handed the Kommandant a piece of paper. "You are being sent back to Berlin to keep records."
"Hmm," said the Kommandant, swallowing nervously. "Well, little brother, what do you think?"
"I think you'll be just fine with that," answered Major Duerr. He looked at the General cautiously. "So, we are not being punished for hiding identities?"
"Nein," answered Weiss. "It is not the first time it has happened, and I think the fiasco here was enough punishment. Besides, most of the prisoners were recovered. You also both have commendable combat records. I would rather have you in positions where you could better help us."
"Sir," said Jöchmann, obviously shocked. "They were committing fraud."
"Not exactly," said Weiss. "They simply changed names on records, and picked a very remote place to keep themselves out of the way. But they did not steal anything. And they went through a legal process to change the Colonel's name anyway."
Jöchmann was furious. "So, if they're going away, who is going to take over the camp?"
"Not you," replied Weiss shortly. "Though, you will still be in command of security in the area. Two other Wehrmacht officers are being taken from Berlin to take the camp. Now, the prisoners who were directly involved in the escape are being transferred out. All I know is that they are being sent to a Dulag back in Germany. From there, they will be sent to some other camp."
"What do you mean directly involved," asked Major Duerr.
"Those who escaped, those who were found in the tunnel area, those dressed to escape, and anyone else who had evidence against them specifically," answered Weiss. "How many men is that?"
"That's about sixty," replied Major Duerr.
Weiss nodded. "Well, you won't have to worry about that, though. You won't be here for their transfer." He gathered all his papers together and handed them to his aide. Then he stood up, as did the other officers. They all saluted which he returned.
Outside, he turned back to them. "Good luck in your new positions," he said to the Duerr brothers. "I wouldn't screw up there, because this incident has brought a lot of attention to you. Another incident and you might end up in a bad position."
"Yes, sir," replied the brothers in unison.
With that, the general got in his car, and they drove off.
Major Duerr looked at Jöchmann. "Well," he said. "It looks like you won't be getting this camp after all."
"Well," said Jöchmann smugly. "We'll see how much it takes for the new Kommandant to roll over." But without anything to boast about, Jöchmann left, leaving the Wehrmacht officers alone.
"It was only sooner or later that they found out," the Kommandant said in a quiet voice.
Major Duerr chuckled. "Right. It was a fun run while it lasted, brother." He turned around when something caught his eye. It was Berg, standing on the steps, looking down at them curiously. Major Duerr smiled at him. "You can go tell the prisoners now. I am sure when Corporal Blackwell is released from the cooler he will be all over you asking questions anyhow."
Berg gave an awkward smile. "Begging both of your pardons, but I already knew."
"See," said the Kommandant teasingly. "I told you he was smart enough to figure it out."
Major Duerr shrugged. "Fine. I think I will go get packing. It's been awhile since I packed for combat duty." He walked over to his quarters, and went inside.
Berg approached the Kommandant. "So, is it Colonel Duerr, now?"
"I suppose so," answered the Kommandant. "Is there something you need Sergeant?"
"I wanted to ask you a question," answered Berg. "But if it is too personal, you do not have to answer."
"Go on," replied the Kommandant.
"What happened to you and the Major when you were fighting," he asked.
The Kommandant took a deep breath. "We were a part of taking Poland, and we were not happy with how it was done. The scorched earth policy was not what we expected. I was in the Great War, and it was different then. Even though I was a young, very junior officer, I knew that officers were always gentlemen, and you treated the enemy officers the same way. I taught my younger brother that. He fought in the Great War as well. He was in the very end of it, as a boy. He fought as a lowly foot soldier. Still, he knew what it meant to be an officer. Anyway, it was tough life for us afterwards. We had no other family, so we took to the military and made it our career. Well, we were stationed together to take Poland, and after that, we decided that we did not want to fight anymore. So, we applied for taking care of a prison. Around that time, they started splitting up relatives in the military, no matter where they were stationed. To avoid being split up, I changed my name. Then, with some weaseling of documents, we made it so that we would both be stationed here. And, it worked out perfectly."
"It did," agreed Berg. "Except that you got very clever prisoners."
"All men are clever in their own way when they are desperate," replied the Kommandant. "There will be many unbelievable things done by prisoners to escape. This camp is no different."
"Well, it will be different without you and the Major," said Berg. "You are both very stern and strict, but fair and humane. That—I believe—is what prisoners need. Stern and strict so that they do not escape, but fair and humane so that they do not get themselves killed."
"And yet," said the Kommandant. "Things we do not understand will happen." He sighed. "I will go pack as well. I want you to tell your men what is going to happen. You may also tell them my true identity. They are good men, and deserve to know the truth." He turned and went back inside.
()()()()()()
That afternoon, Major Duerr paid a visit to the cooler. He inquired the whereabouts of two prisoners, and the guard led him to one of the cells at the end. He unlocked it, and allowed the Major inside. Six prisoners stared up at him. The coolers were filled, so solitary confinement was out of the question. The prisoners inside were Peter, Louis, Luke, Dean, Everley and Torben. They all looked worried while trying to appear defiant. Duerr didn't blame them. Except for when the guard brought them some measly rations, they hadn't seen another soul since being brought to the cooler.
Duerr half-smiled at them. "You have been fascinating prisoners," he said, his eyes looking over them all and finally landing on Peter and Louis.
"Are you sayin' good-bye," asked Peter.
"Yes," answered Duerr.
"Oh, no," moaned Everley.
Duerr chuckled. "You needn't worried. You aren't going to be executed or anything. I've been transferred and I'm leaving tomorrow."
"Transferred," echoed Louis. "Where too?"
"Africa," answered Duerr.
Peter smiled. "I 'ope ole Monty gives you a warm welcome."
Duerr glowered at him for a moment before just shaking his head with amusement. "Anyway, I guess I am saying good-bye, because this is one of the more interesting posts I've held in the military. Never before have I seen such an assortment of men who pour so much of themselves into a common goal."
"It is why you will lose," said Luke quietly.
Duerr looked at him for a long moment. "If we lose, I will remember this." He went back to the cell door.
"Sir," asked Peter.
Duerr looked a back at him. "Yes?"
"Did you capture Lawrence?"
Duerr shook his head, and added, "I am sorry. I would have wanted justice too." He quickly left.
Translations:
(1) Who did this to you?
(2) You have to leave quickly.
(3) We know. But who did this to you?
(4) The Captain? Captain who?
(5) pig!
(6) I guess it's good that I can speak German.
(7) That pig.