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What's in a Name

Chapter 3

Helga Goes on an Errand

After returning to camp, Schultz dropped the Kommandant off and then drove the car back to the motor pool. Schultz grumbled to himself that if Klink only took the time to listen to his subordinates and learn about their lives, Schultz's years of experience running a business may have helped the Kommandant bargain with the printing plant's owner. Meanwhile, a defeated Klink trudged up the steps to his office, wondering why his considerable charm and high position could not persuade the printing plant owner to negotiate. As he entered, Helga intercepted the Kommandant and handed him a hot cup of tea.

"Thank you my dear."

"You're welcome. The guard at the gate phoned when you arrived. No luck?" she asked as she followed the colonel into his office.

Klink put the cup on his desk. "No luck. Herr Bittman wouldn't budge. He's too busy with official business. And I have to believe him. The plant was very obviously operating at the highest capacity." He sat down behind his desk, opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a tin of biscuits. "Will you join me?"

"No thank you. I have more work to do. I have heard that Herr Bittman is an unpleasant man. Most people in our area went to other printing establishments in town, but they've been shut now for several years."

Klink looked up at his secretary. "Yes. Well. We must adapt, mustn't we?"

"I suppose. What do you plan to do about the mistake, Kommandant?"

"At the moment, I don't know." Klink was interrupted by the jingle of the phone. He stopped Helga with his hand before she ran into the outer room to answer. "I'll get it."

"Stalag 13," he answered. "No, not that Stalag 13. This is Luft Stalag 13. Oh, you've reached the correct camp? Wonderful." Klink looked at Helga, who smiled. "Well, this is Kommandant Klink speaking. Yes. Yes. I understand. How soon? I will need to do some expansion. Yes. Heil Hitler."

"More prisoners?" Helga asked.

"Yes. We've captured quite a few on our march across Western Europe." His previous woes now forgotten, Klink rubbed his hands together in glee and in anticipation. "They are being transported as we speak. Helga, we need to look into increasing our capacity. I'll need to see the original blueprints of the camp. Please arrange a staff meeting."

"Right away."

Helga left the office and opened the file cabinet. She pulled out a file in which she had organized a chart of all staff officers and guards that spoke other languages. Unfortunately, the list was not long, but she thought it would be helpful to the Kommandant in any case. Opening another drawer, she pulled out a file, removed its contents and put it on her desk. This can't be right. The blueprints were labeled Stalag 13, not Luft Stalag 13 or Luft Stalag 6, if you wanted to be technical. The complex shown on the prints was the size of a small town, not a small cleared area near the woods. She picked up the papers and knocked on Klink's door. Entering, she put both files in front of her boss, pointing at the heading. "I thought you could use this file, Kommandant. I made an organizational chart of the language skills of all the guards and staff members in camp. It's not many, but I think you may need some guards who speak more than German and Polish."

"Helga, that's brilliant. We will be getting some men from Belgium, France, and The Netherlands. And soon some from England, I hope, which is why we need the expansion."

"Yes, sir. The war seems to be heading that way," Helga replied without enthusiasm. "Unfortunately, I have some bad news. These blueprints are from the wrong camp, Kommandant."

"Are they?" Klink gazed at the papers. His secretary was correct. There was no mistake.

"Do you wish me to call the other Stalag 13 and see if they have our blueprints?" Helga asked.

"No. We don't have the time. They would have to look for them, and if they have them, by the time they get here, the prisoners will be here, and they will be sleeping outside because we won't have huts, not to mention we won't have enough sanitary facilities."

Helga nodded, appreciating that her new boss seemed to care a bit for the poor men being held captive. "Perhaps they have copies at the clerk's office in Hamelburg. I assume all architectural prints have to be checked before permits are issued, and then they're filed. If you wish, I can stop there and see if I can have copies made."

"Helga, you're a true find."

Helga smiled. "Thank you again, Herr Kommandant."

Klink smiled back, pleased that he had taken the dog handler's advice to hire this bright young woman. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off? You live in town, don't you? You can stop at the clerk's office on the way home. We'll call the staff meeting for tomorrow morning then at 0900."

"Very good, Kommandant. I'll need some money for the copies, and definitely something in writing."

Klink opened the top drawer of his desk. "Fortunately, I do have some stationery. For now, it will have to do." He pulled out an envelope and some letterhead, and jotted down a paragraph and his signature. "Here you go. And use the petty cash. Just write it down in the book. If they give you any grief, my dear, have them call me. I will be right here."

"I will call you and let you know I have them, Kommandant." Helga was now in a good mood as not only did she have an afternoon off, but it appeared as if the numbering mistake might have lasting consequences. What, she couldn't guess, but it would be interesting to find out. Before leaving the office, Helga made a few quick calls, informing the small staff of the meeting the next morning, and then left the camp.

Klink, meanwhile, gazed at the drawing of the camp on the wall behind his desk. "You will have to be updated." He took down the frame and placed it on the floor next to the window. He then took his seat behind his desk and enjoyed the rest of his tea and biscuits.

It was camp policy that Helga be escorted by one of the guards if she had to walk to another building, or to and from the gate. Although she didn't fear the small contingent of Polish prisoners, she agreed that the stares did make her a bit uncomfortable…not that she blamed the men, of course. After all, it had been quite some time since they had contact with a female. Today, her escort was Sergeant Schultz, who was quite talkative as they made their way to the front of the camp.

"Will you have to wait long for the bus, Helga?"

Helga didn't own an automobile, but fortunately a nearby bus stop was added when the stalag opened.

"No, Sergeant. One should be coming by within a half-hour," Helga replied. "Or I may walk. It's a nice day."

"I'm glad you are helping Kommandant Klink. The camp has been running much more efficiently since you arrived." Schultz stopped and good-naturedly glared at a group of prisoners, who seeing the secretary, moved a bit away from their building in order to get closer. The natural leader of the group gave Schultz a wave, and then moved his men back with a look. "I should take Polish lessons," Schultz mumbled.

"Well, you speak English perfectly," Helga said as she rewarded the group of prisoners with a small smile. "The Kommandant hopes to receive English prisoners."

"We will have a multinational camp soon. Which is nice. I like meeting people from other countries," Schultz said. He then wrinkled his brow. "Although I wish it was not this way. A transatlantic trip on an ocean liner. Now that would be the way to meet people from everywhere. I wanted to take my Gretchen on a trip to America. But now, I don't think it will ever happen," he whispered.

Helga patted his arm. "Don't give up hope," she consoled the kind guard. "This war can't last forever," she whispered. "Thank you for the escort, Sergeant," she spoke louder as they reached the gate. "I will see you tomorrow."

Helga walked out of the gates, her flat shoes allowing her to walk briskly towards the road. She made a right turn and headed towards the stop, which was only a few minutes' walk. She was mulling over whether or not to continue towards town, when she spied the bus heading her way. It stopped; she entered and paid her fare, and then sat down a few rows back. This time of day the bus was crowded with residents heading into town from the rural areas outside of Hamelburg. A few smiled at Helga, acknowledging her presence, but one, a middle-aged woman seated across the aisle, frowned at the young secretary. "You work at the camp?" she asked, disapproval obvious in her tone.

"Yes." Helga looked the woman straight in the eye. Helga saw no shame in being a working girl, despite Hitler's opinions that good German girls should be homemakers and baby-makers for the Third Reich. Well, not everyone lived a fairy-tale life. Being swept up by a nice young man, getting married and having children happened to others. There was no prince charming on the horizon, and Helga needed to work to help her family make ends meet. Her mother had been let go from her job shortly after Hitler came into power, and Helga, in turn, was unable to secure a spot at a university. Her mother, a teacher at a secretarial college, was told that her job was to keep house for her family. Although there was now a labor shortage, Helga's mother had been unable to find another position. She used her free time to teach Helga business and secretarial skills. Helga's father had also lost his position when the factory in which he worked as a business manager was taken from its Jewish owners and converted to war production. Because of these connections, he was unable to find local employment, and he now worked at a factory in Düsseldorf for less pay, and only came home on weekends.

Helga quickly exited the bus when it arrived at the stop near the center of town. Her brief altercation with the disapproving housewife now behind her, Helga took a quick look around. The town was bustling. Homemakers were out doing their daily shopping, while soldiers strolled through the area, chatting and smoking. Ahead of her was the Hotel Hauserhof; to the right was the public library. Her family could not afford to dine at the hotel, and the library's collection was purged of many of the books Helga enjoyed reading as a child. She crossed the street, eyes downcast as several members of the Gestapo passed her by on their way to their headquarters. Fortunately, they took no notice of the secretary, who, even after all these years, still could not get used to living in a police state.

"Helga?"

Upon hearing her name, Helga turned and let out a broad smile. "Max. How are you?"

"Doing as well as can be expected. Is it true you are now working at the POW camp?" Suddenly, the man frowned. "You didn't lose your job?"

"Oh, no," Helga answered. "Yes, I do work there. Oscar Schnitzer helped set it up. I'm in town on camp business for the Kommandant," she replied proudly.

Max nodded. "That's good. What is the Kommandant like?"

"He's…" Helga thought for a moment. "Well, to be honest, I've only been there a few days. It's really too soon to tell. But he seems like a decent officer, I guess. He's a veteran from the last war."

"Well, you take care." Max patted her hand. "Frankly, a POW camp is no place for a young lady."

"Well, Max, it helps with the bills. And, I think there might be some unforeseen benefits to working there." Helga looked him straight in the eye. "Besides," she added. "It's better than working in that factory." She shuddered at the memory of her duty year.

"Now that was definitely no place for you," Max stated. "I have to get back to the store. Keep me updated on how things are going at the camp."

"I will. It was wonderful to see you."

Max clasped her hands. "Tell your mother I'm expecting a nice shipment of onions in tomorrow." He quickly glanced up and down the street in an odd manner, which didn't escape Helga's notice.

"Max, be careful," she whispered in his ear.

"Always, my dear."

Her spirits lifted after her chance meeting with the greengrocer, Helga continued walking the few more blocks to the building that housed various municipal offices; the outside of the beautiful old building was marred by large flags bearing the hated symbol of Hitler's regime flying from the roof. Helga checked her hair to make sure her bun was still intact, opened up the large, heavy door, and walked inside where German bureaucracy was fully on display. Despite the war, the town still needed to run efficiently. She went up to the reception desk and approached the older gentleman seated behind it. He smiled at Helga as she approached.

"I am looking for the office that stores blueprints and building permits." Helga removed the letter Klink had issued, and passed it over to the man.

"Second floor." He passed the envelope back to Helga without checking its contents.

"Thank you. Stairs?"

The man pointed to the right.

After climbing up two flights of stairs, Helga exited the stairwell, and stood for a moment before walking down the hall. Clutching her purse, she confidently opened the door into the records room, where a lone clerk was seated at a desk behind the counter. Since it was near lunchtime, Helga assumed the rest of the employees were on their break. The clerk noticed Helga, rose from his chair, and limped over.

"Can I help you?" he asked in a disinterested voice.

"Yes. I'm here on official business for Kommandant Klink."

"Who?"

"Colonel Klink. From the POW camp outside of town," Helga responded.

The clerk tilted his head, reminding Helga of a confused dog. "There's a POW camp outside of town?"

"Yes," Helga answered, resisting the urge to ask the clerk if he read the papers. "I need to see the blueprints and any other papers for the property. And we will need copies made of some of them." Helga placed the letter on the counter.

The clerk pulled out a pair of spectacles and picked up the letter.

"Stalag 13?"

"Luft Stalag 13," Helga corrected him.

"How many prisoners you got? Just curious."

Holding back her impatience-you could not rush bureaucrats and civil servants-Helga answered, "About a hundred from Poland. But we are getting more, and that means we need to expand, which is why we need the blueprints and survey maps…as it says in the letter."

The clerk rubbed his chin. "You should have a set at camp. One set goes to the building site. One set is filed here, and the architects or engineers have the originals in their office. Where's your set?"

"We don't have one," Helga stated. "I'm not at liberty to say why."

"Well, normally you can order a set from the firm for a small fee."

"How can I do that, if I don't have a set that shows the name and whereabouts of the firm?" Helga countered.

The clerk nodded. "You do have a point there. There is a charge for making copies."

"I am aware of that. I brought cash," Helga replied.

"Wonderful." The clerk gave Helga a creepy smile. "Wait there. I'll get the file."

Helga spied a chair positioned next to the door and took a seat. At least ten minutes went by before the clerk came back, carrying a large file.

"Now I know where your camp is. It's the old wilderness property. And then they turned it into a Hitler Youth Camp."

"That's correct," Helga replied. A Hamelburg native, she knew a bit of the history of the site, although she was already grown by the time the youth camp was in operation. The original buildings were being used as barracks, a mess hall, and the Kommandant's office and quarters.

"Here you go. That's a lot of copying. It could take a while."

Helga opened the file. "Oh, there are a lot of papers." Not being an architect, a builder or an engineer, Helga had to admit she was out of her element.

"Well, you probably don't need everything in there." The clerk flipped through the stack. "Like these permits and letters. You're looking for gas lines, water lines, soil samples. That kind of thing. They're adding more buildings?"

"Um. Yes. More barracks and a few others," Helga answered, now feeling a tad sorry she had judged the clerk too harshly. "But I'm sure they'll have to expand the water lines."

"If you want, you can look through the file over there." The clerk pointed to a table pushed up against the far wall. "Pull out what you want copied. Just don't mix up the order. Everything's labeled, but it's a nuisance putting them back."

"Thank you." Helga lugged the file over to the table and began looking at the pages, one by one. As the clerk had noted, she discovered many superfluous items and she was grateful he had given her the opportunity to save money and time. Thinking back to the blueprints of the other Stalag 13 she had in the office, she was pretty sure now what was needed.

After a few moments, she began to reach what she deemed was important information, including survey maps of the property, the area showing drawings of utilities, and what she hoped were future plans of expansion. She began putting those papers aside.

As the clerk had noted, the camp was originally designed as a recreational area in the 20's and had been upgraded several times. For some reason, older papers in the file were located behind the newer ones, until Helga realized the order was deliberately set that way. Determined not to miss anything, she decided to give each page a cursory once over. Suddenly, a page caught her further attention and her eyes widened at the ramifications of what she had seen. She looked over behind the counter. The clerk had disappeared into the back filing room and no one else was around. Quickly, Helga grabbed the page, folded it and placed it in her purse. Her heart now beating so hard she was afraid it would pop out of her chest, she continued looking through the rest of the file. Seeing nothing else, she closed it and picked up the pages she had set aside, and then returned to the counter.

"All set," she said with a smile as the clerk approached. "What do you think of my selection?" She crossed her ankles in an effort to stop her legs from shaking.

The clerk was obviously flattered and checked over the stack. "I think this will do fine," he answered. "But if there is a problem, give me a call." He jotted down his name and number on a sheet of paper and handed it to Helga. "I can have these copies ready for you by tomorrow noon."

"Thank you. That's very kind. I'll need a statement to bring back to camp. What do I owe you?"

"You can pay me tomorrow. I'll have an invoice ready for you. And it's a pleasure doing business with Luft Stalag 13." There was the creepy smile again.

Helga left the records office, and trying not to panic, slowly and carefully walked down the stairs to the first floor. She feared that she would be stopped and her belongings searched, but no one paid any attention to her. Her walk through town was equally tense, but again, she was not stopped. Now famished, because she dared not stop for lunch, she was grateful to finally reach the apartment building that was home. This time, she dashed up the stairs to the 3rd floor flat she shared with her parents, opened the door, barely missed tripping over her cat, and flopped on the couch, afraid she would begin to hyperventilate. "Mother?"

Thankfully, there was no answer. Her mother was most likely somewhere downtown running errands or shopping for that evening's meal. As soon as she caught her breath, Helga went into her small bedroom and sat on her bed. She opened her purse and took out the paper she had stolen from the file. She could not believe what she had done, and at this point she didn't quite know what to do with the paper, except she was sure she needed to hide it. Walking over to her desk, Helga opened a drawer, removed a letter opener, and used it to pry open a floor board next to her wardrobe. As she suspected, there was a small space underneath that was perfect for hiding the sheet of paper, and anything else she might have to hide in the future.

Returning to the desk, she pulled out an envelope. Before putting the stolen sheet inside, she gazed at it one more time. It was dated 1923, and like the other sheets she had removed for copying, it had the original and current architectural firm stamped on there. Although she knew they had the original drawings, she couldn't worry about that right now. Besides, the firm was located in Düsseldorf. What mattered were the drawings she removed from the files today…the ones the Kommandant needed to show his Luftwaffe engineers, and the stolen page, which was an old survey map from the original property, showing a mine, with its abandoned entrance located underneath what was now most of Luft Stalag 13. How the Luftwaffe and the POW department missed this was a true mystery, one Helga was determined to discover. She couldn't recall anyone in town ever speaking about a mine, which appeared to have been closed long before the previous war. For now, until she found someone she could trust with this information, it would remain safely buried underneath her floor.

I found an overwhelming amount of information on women's roles in Nazi Germany. I cobbled together several pages of notes from websites, Google books, articles, wikipedia, powerpoints put out by history professors, etc, and my own sources.

At first, women's roles were severely restricted when the Nazi's took power. Universities reduced their female quotas to 10 percent. Initially, many women lost their jobs. Men as well were moved around, and the experience of Helga's father (coming home only on the weekend) was common.

Many women considered Hitler their "savior."

Due to the eventual labor shortage, in 1937, German instituted a compulsory service plan for single women between 17-25. This was called the duty year.

"Women were supposed to emulate traditional German peasant fashions - plain peasant costumes, hair in plaits or buns and flat shoes. They were not expected to wear make-up or trousers, dye their hair or smoke in public.

The three Ks (Kinder, Kirche, Kuche) – motto for women. 'Children' for motherhood, 'Church' for morality and 'Kitchen' for wife and domestic provider.The entire focus of a females existence in Nazi Germany was supposed to be on domesticity and motherhood."

After 1936, policies began to change, as the labor shortage increased, and there was a backlash.

"Girls were taught to embrace the role of mother and obedient wife in school and through compulsory membership in the Nazi League of German Girls. However, rearmament followed by total war obliged the Nazis to abandon the domestic ideal for women. The need for labor prompted the state to prod women into the workforce (for example, through the Duty Year, the compulsory-service plan for all women) and even into the military itself (the number of female auxiliaries in the German armed forces approached 500,000 by 1945)." Holocaust museum