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What's in a Name
Chapter 8
Who's Leading Whom?
Klink left Berlin in a bad mood, but his uneasiness lifted as soon as he drove through the gates of his prison camp. It was a beautiful day, and he beamed as he observed his charges, both the guards and the prisoners, behaving as they should.
Some prisoners were milling around the compound in small groups, while others stood by their huts, smoking, chatting or doing laundry. The guards were alert. They kept their distance, while at the same time, keeping an eye out for any trouble.
To Klink's delight, he spied the dog handler, Oskar Schnitzer, near the newly built recreation hall. The veterinarian was walking around the compound with one of his shepherds. Klink stopped the car and got out. As one of his guards hopped in to drive the staff car to the motor pool, Klink walked over to Schnitzer.
The dog looked up, bared his teeth, and growled.
Startled, Klink hopped back a few feet. "Training your dog to look for tunnels?" the Kommandant asked.
Schnitzer looked up. "That's what I was told to do," he replied in the gruff voice he reserved for dealings with camp staff and authorities in town. He bent down and whispered something to the dog, and then continued walking along the perimeter of the building. Suddenly, the dog sat.
Klink hurried over. "Did he find something?"
"Yes." Oskar stroked the shepherd's massive head, and gave the dog a treat. "This is a tunnel the guards dug for training purposes. I tried it first at my farm, and the tests were a success."
"Wonderful!" Klink gingerly stepped towards the tunnel. "How deep is this?"
"About eight feet," Oskar answered. "Watch where you walk, Kommandant."
"So the guards can take this dog themselves and conduct searches for tunnels." Klink nodded in appreciation.
"Well, we can try. There's another fake tunnel in another area of camp."
"Schuulllltz!" Klink snapped his fingers, and his sergeant of the guard came over, huffing and puffing with exertion.
"Yes, Kommandant. Did you have a nice trip?"
"No. But never mind that. Go with Schnitzer, and find that tunnel."
"Me, Kommandant? Would it not be better to get a guard that walks with the dogs?"
"What? Are you afraid of the animal, Schultz?" Klink answered.
"Well, technically..." The dog growled, and now Schultz jumped back.
"Get another guard, Schultz," Klink ordered.
Within a few minutes, Schnitzer, accompanied by a perimeter guard, walked over to the other side of the compound. Klink, Schultz, and a few members of Klink's staff cautiously followed.
This activity did not go unnoticed by the prisoners. As the bevy of Germans moved, a nervous group of multinational airmen slyly followed the route. They had witnessed guards digging the holes earlier that day, and were anticipating an upcoming disaster.
The dog was still being led by Schnitzer. As he headed towards Barracks 3, the POW's tensed and held their breath. The dog walked right over the spot where their shallow tunnel hit the compound, but to their surprise and relief, the shepherd paid no attention.
As the line of Germans left the area, Newkirk turned to LeBeau. "Now what was that all about?"
"I told you there's something going on with those dogs," LeBeau insisted. "And the handler."
"But he's looking for tunnels. He's working with the Krauts," another man, Erskine, remarked.
"LeBeau is correct," said Hemsworth, a British corporal who arrived at camp a bit before Newkirk and LeBeau. "One of the Polish guys from across camp told me the dogs are friendly towards the prisoners. He stuck his hand through the fence, gave one of the dogs a treat and a pat, and came back with all his digits attached."
There was, of course, something going on with the dogs, and in particular, the dog now on the end of Corporal Geisel's leash. Friedrich, unfortunately, had an olfactory problem. Although he could appear menacing on cue and could pick up Oskar's signals-a slight tug, a nod, and he would sit on command-detecting a tunnel by smell or feel was too much for the poor shepherd. He was the perfect fit for Luft Stalag 13's canine ferret squad.
As Geisel walked around the mess tent, where the second fake tunnel lay, Schnitzer gazed over the compound. He noticed a group of prisoners paying attention to the proceedings. Among them were one of the Polish prisoners; a sergeant who had been at the camp for quite some time. There were several other prisoners he recognized. Two, a British corporal and a French corporal, were newcomers. Schnitzer spoke English, and considered somehow engaging the Brit.
"He's not finding the tunnel," Geisel complained. "It's right under him."
"Keep trying," Klink ordered.
Thinking this might be the diversion he was waiting for, Schnitzer said, "I might be distracting the dog. I'll move away, out of his sight. Then see what happens."
"Go ahead." Klink waved.
Schnitzer stepped back and slowly made his way towards the group of prisoners. Lest he raise any suspicion, he decided to stop about ten feet away.
"Looks like the dog is a failure," Chernetsky said happily.
Fortunately, no one was watching right that second, but that could change at any moment. Schnitzer was still somewhat wary of approaching a prisoner directly, but he was prepared with a plan B. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a handkerchief, while as planned, a piece of folded paper floated down to the ground. Instead of picking up the paper, the vet covered it slightly with a bit of dirt, then stared right at the prisoners. He looked down at the ground and back up at them, then walked away.
It was Newkirk that took action. Making sure that the guards weren't watching, he sidled over to the spot where the paper had dropped, and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. Dropping a match, he bent down to pick it up, grabbed the paper as well, and walked back to his group.
Meanwhile, Schnitzer hurried over to the forlorn group of camp personnel. He shook his head.
"It didn't work. What happened?" Klink asked.
"Let me try." Oskar took the leash and walked Friedrich back and forth. The dog sniffed the ground and happily wagged his tail in delight as he walked with his master. Suddenly, the dog sat.
"There you go. He found the spot," Oskar said.
"Amazing." Klink rubbed his chin.
"Maybe it's the dog handler," Schultz reluctantly grumbled. Although he believed in giving credit where credit was due, Schultz wasn't fond of Schnitzer. Schultz was afraid of the dogs, and thought the veterinarian was overly grumpy.
"Sometimes the dogs respond better to their own trainer. I'd be willing to check for tunnels on a regular basis," Oskar told Klink. "It will only be a slight increase in my fee."
Klink nodded. "You have a deal." The Kommandant, having never met a ferret-a tunnel expert, not the furry animal-actually had no idea how often to check for escape routes. For now, he figured he'd start with a general sweep of the camp, and then have the vet check on an irregular schedule. After all, the Kommandant's job was to keep the prisoners guessing.
The prisoners' attention was no longer on the tunnel-finding expedition. Instead, they returned to Newkirk's barracks, and waited impatiently for Newkirk to expose the paper the dog handler had obviously dropped on purpose.
"It's in German," Newkirk stated.
"Well, what does it say?" Erskine asked.
"Changing dogs on Wednesday at 10 am."
"So?"
Newkirk scratched his head. "The bloke deliberately dropped that paper so we would see it and pick it up. He wants to meet with one of us."
LeBeau nodded. "I agree."
"All he says is that he's changing those dogs in two days. Probably a reminder for himself," countered Erskine. "Plus it's in German. That's taking a chance. What if we couldn't translate it?"
"A day of the week? Even you know that, and how to count to ten. No, I know a sleight of hand trick when I see it," Newkirk countered. "Besides, why would he need a reminder. He changes the dogs every Wednesday at 10."
Erskine laughed. "You're right. We need to get someone over to his truck."
"I'll go," LeBeau stated. "I'm not afraid of Schnitzer or the dogs."
"Besides," Newkirk chuckled. "You're less likely to be seen, mate. No offense."
"None taken, this time."
"I think we should clear this with Maddock," Chernetsky said. The group was in total agreement and went off to find the British MOC.
Helga had promised to sort through prisoner records to find someone familiar with mining or engineering. There were a lot of records to go through, but she methodically tackled the task, checking hometowns listed on the information gathered when men were first assigned to camp. One Englishman's information caught her eye. Newcastle on Tyne. Where did she hear that name? There was a saying one of her old teachers had used, but she couldn't recall the full idiom. However, she was sure it had something to do with coal. As she told Oskar and Max, she decided to strike up a conversation with Sergeant Maddock the next time he came into the office. Unfortunately, she didn't know when that would be.
She didn't have long to wait.
Sergeant Schultz was the first to hurry through the office door, then came the Kommandant, and right on his heels, was a clearly upset Sergeant Maddock.
Helga had no time to greet her boss as the sergeant was talking up a storm.
"I strongly protest the digging of fake tunnels, and the use of the guard dogs to find these tunnels, Kommandant. My men are not filling in tunnels they didn't dig."
"That wasn't a request, Sergeant," Klink replied. "Hello, Helga."
"How was your trip, Kommandant?" Helga sidestepped Schultz, who was trying to calm the prisoners' representative.
"Fruitless. Although we may soon expect a visit from General Burkhalter. And Schnitzer will be using his dogs to search for tunnels. I'll need you to come into the office so I can dictate an addendum to his contract." Klink looked up at the sergeant. Perhaps his order was a bit nonsensical, but his guards were extremely busy. And after all, they had dug the tunnels, which was the hardest part of the job.
"Maddock, if you bring Schultz a work crew to fill in the tunnels, under strict supervision, of course, I'll provide an extra hour of electricity for a week."
Maddock frowned, and then nodded. "You have a deal, sir."
"I'll be right with you, Kommandant," Helga said as Klink entered his office. "I have to get my book and I'll pull the original contract. Sergeant Maddock, may I ask you a question?" She asked as she got up from behind the desk.
"Yes, ma'am."
"A friend of mine and I were reminiscing about an old teacher who often used a saying. Something about Newcastle? But we couldn't remember what it meant or the exact wording."
"Oh, you must be thinking of 'Taking coal to Newcastle.' It means a foolhardy or useless action, you see. Because it's a big coal-mining location. Kind of like selling snow to an Eskimo."
"That's it! Thank you so much." Helga flashed a smile at Maddock as she moved towards the filing cabinet.
The sergeant beamed back.
"You're welcome."
"Have you ever been to Newcastle, Sergeant?"
"No. But we have a man here from Newcastle. Bellows in Barracks 4."
"Oh. Was he a coal miner then?"
"From a long line, I'm told."
"Come on, Maddock. We need to get those tunnels filled in. And Fraulein Helga and the prisoners are not supposed to have contact."
"Don't worry, Sergeant Schultz." Helga patted the portly guard on the shoulders. "Just a friendly conversation. I don't usually get to speak to the prisoners, you know. And it's not polite to ignore Sergeant Maddock is it? After all, he's here at least a few times a week." Helga pouted.
Schultz's face softened. "No, you are right, that isn't polite. They are mainly good boys. As long as you are in the office, a few friendly words wouldn't hurt."
"Thanks, Schultz!" Maddock patted the guard on the back. "You're not half-bad for a guard."
"You're welcome."
While walking back to his hut, Maddock thought about his odd conversation with Helga. Until today, they had only exchanged cursory greetings. The sergeant now felt a bit stupid for mentioning Bellows. He decided to discuss the conversation with his trusted staff. Hopefully, no damage was done, but he vowed to be more careful in future dealings with the Kommandant's secretary.