.
"What's in a Name"
Chapter 13
"A New Sense of Urgency"
Burkhalter ate and slept well. Klink did not; and to make matters worse, the rest of the camp tour, as well as the general's inspection of the prisoners at roll call, was canceled due to inclement weather.
The two officers, along with Helga, were seated in Klink's office. Burkhalter, who was in the process of going over Klink's books, had commandeered the desk and Klink's chair. As Helga took notes, the Kommandant sat nervously and twiddled his thumbs.
"Stop twiddling, Klink." The general turned a page. "Seems like everything is in order, so far. I understand the prisoners are not housed by nationality." Burkhalter looked up. "That is irregular." He sat back and waited for an explanation.
Klink swallowed. "Well, I understand the convention, which I try to follow...to the letter. But housing them that way would be very impractical. You see, we would have severe overcrowding in the French and Polish barracks, and almost empty housing for the Norwegians and the..." Klink stopped as Burkhalter leaned forward.
"Did you say Polish?"
"Yes, we have approximately one hundred Polish enlisted men. They were the first to arrive." Klink looked at Burkhalter with a quizzical expression.
"You didn't follow the order?"
"What order, General?"
"The order turning them into civilian workers. The Polish prisoners are to be used for labor."
Helga dropped her pencil. "I'm sorry, General, Kommandant." Her heart began to race as she bent down to pick it up.
"But General Burkhalter, that removes their protection as..."
"That's what the order said, Klink," Burkhalter snapped. "I didn't write it," he admitted to Klink in a rare moment of honesty and regret. "But it needs to be followed." Burkhalter's annoyance swiftly returned. "Let me take a wild guess, you never received the order."
"No, sir." Klink answered. "I suppose it went to the other camp. Which I wanted to discuss with you before you leave. The other camp, and the mistake."
"I know all about the mistake. I ended up on a detour because of it," Burkhalter stated. "At the other camp."
"I'm sorry to hear that, General. So that is why you were late?" Klink leaned forward. "So how was it? The other camp, I mean,"
"Large," Burkhalter replied. "And they were as competent in boot-licking as all the other Luft-Stalag staffs."
"We don't do that here," Klink swiftly said. "Bootlick I mean. I mean we take good care of our visitors, especially generals, but we don't go overboard."
Helga was appalled at the conversation and particularly shocked and concerned at Klink's reaction to Burkhalter. It appeared that as the war continued, her boss's insecurities and fear of authority inflated.
The general's eyes narrowed. This is not the man I thought he was. While the camp appeared to be running smoothly, Burkhalter's opinion of Klink decreased. Maybe that's why he was recommended for a camp position by so many people. He would most likely be a menace commanding a combat unit.
"See to the Poles, Klink. Before my next visit," the general ordered. "If you need to, you can call Berlin for instructions as to where to send them, and ask for a copy of the order for your files."
Klink paled. "Yes, sir."
"I wonder what other important correspondence has been sent to the other camp? Fraulein, can you please connect me to the Kommandant of Stalag 13?"
While Burkhalter and Klink were waiting for Helga, Burkhalter spoke with Klink. "Normally, I wouldn't be too concerned about this issue. In fact, I was quite shocked that you actually came all the way to Berlin to try and straighten it out."
"I'll remove the trip from my expense account," Klink muttered.
"Yes, you will. As I was saying, I'm in charge of this sector, and what happens at these camps reflects upon me. Do you understand that?"
"Implicitly." Klink couldn't wait for the general to leave. His first order of business once he was alone? Down a large dose of antacid.
The buzzer on the phone rang, signaling that Helga had reached the Kommandant of Stalag 13.
"This is General Burkhalter.
No, I did not enjoy my tour.
Why? It wasn't the correct camp.
No, you are correct, that is not your fault. But I'm calling about a more urgent matter. Missing orders.
What difference does it make? I'm in charge of this sector, and the way my camps are run reflects upon me. And I will make note if problems occur because you are too disorganized to send misdirected mail, prisoners, guards or supplies to the originally intended recipient.
Yes, that is correct. I do have the ear of the Führer
Gooood. I see we understand each other. Heil Hitler."
"I believe I have straightened out that part of the problem, Klink." Burkhalter reached over and opened the humidor. He removed a cigar, which Klink hastily lit. The general relaxed back in the chair, and took a few puffs. "Hopefully, anyone or anything misdirected to the other camp will soon find its way back here."
"Thank you, sir. I have to ask about the maps, the stationery, signs and the other issues. Oberst Gratz said…"
"Berlin will not approve funds for new signage. You can use your own funds if you wish. I will look into the maps. That is important. And now, please call for my car."
After Helga got in touch with the Kommandant of Stalag 13 in Hammelburg, she put her face in her hands and tried not to cry. The order about the Polish prisoners upset her greatly. She had heard rumors that the Polish were being treated horrendously by the occupation forces, and the Jews in Poland were being forced into ghettos. She feared that the POW's were being sent to dangerous munitions factories or labor camps, and possibly being worked to death.
Hearing the door opening, she grabbed a handkerchief and dried her eyes. Corporal Langenscheidt walked through the threshold and gave Helga a shy smile, a smile, which lately seemed to melt her heart. He removed his cap.
"Something wrong, Fraulein Helga?" Concern was etched on the corporal's face.
"No. What can I do for you?"
"Is the general still in with the Kommandant?"
"Yes, but I believe he will be leaving soon."
"I have a message," Langenscheidt said. "The men sent out to the farms this morning to work are returning. The weather is too miserable. They are to go back as soon as the weather clears, as there is a lot of work to be done. And the group is asking for more prisoner volunteers for the summer and upcoming fall harvest, as more men are being called up."
Helga jotted down the message. "I'll see that the Kommandant gets this. Thank you."
Langenscheidt smiled. "Whatever it is that is bothering you, it will be all right."
Helga watched the corporal leave and mulled over the problem of the Polish prisoners. She was tempted to head right over to Oskar's after work, but she was not sure of his schedule. Tapping her fingers on the desk, a nervous habit she had acquired, she thought about what if anything she could do to stop the transfers. Somehow, she would have to put an idea into the Kommandant's head, but what? Her musings were interrupted again. This time it was Sergeant Maddock.
The very wet sergeant was grateful for many things. He was alive, and although he had been separated from his crew, all of them had survived the shooting down of their plane. He appreciated being sent to this camp, for he realized that conditions could have been worse. He had easy access to the administrative office; he was sure MOC's in other camps were not as fortunate. The guards were not trigger-happy, and plans to upgrade and expand the mine tunnel under the camp, now that their "experts" had taken a look, were about to progress. This subterfuge couldn't have come at a better time. Morale was down, as everyone knew that Britain and Germany were fighting in the skies over the island nation. The prisoners tried to put aside their anxiety about what was in store. The word invasion was never spoken out loud, but it was on the mind of every prisoner, both the British and the other nationalities, for they all knew that Britain stood alone.
It would take quite some time before everything was ready for a mass escape. But meanwhile, the prisoners had allies, and the men were anxious to give any help they could to these brave German civilians.
"Is the Kommandant available?" Maddock asked as he shivered.
"You're soaking wet," Helga said. "Let me get you something hot to drink. The Kommandant is still in with General Burkhalter."
"I need to speak with him about leaks." Maddock sneezed.
"Here." Helga handed the sergeant a mug of hot tea. "I haven't touched it. Drink it. It will warm you up." She got up from her chair and removed a blanket from the wardrobe. She draped it around his shoulders.
"Thank you."
"Have a seat. I believe the general will be leaving shortly." Helga bit her lip. She looked at the door, and then back at the prisoner. Taking a deep breath, she decided the situation was grave enough that it warranted a talk with the sergeant.
She walked over to the chair, and whispered into his ear. "There was a general order we didn't receive. The general told the Kommandant he has to transfer the Polish prisoners. They're to be used as labor."
Maddock's back stiffened.
"The Kommandant said they won't be under the protection of the Geneva Convention." Helga stepped back.
The sergeant rose and put the mug of tea down on Helga's desk. "I'll speak with my staff," he whispered. "We need to find a better way to make contact with the underground."
Helga nodded. Hearing movement coming from the Kommandant's office, she pointed to the chair and Maddock returned to his seat. "I think the Kommandant and the general are almost finished Sergeant," she said in a normal voice.
The door opened and General Burkhalter and Klink walked out.
Maddock, the blanket still around his shoulders, quickly rose and saluted.
The two German officers returned the salute.
"Who is this, Klink?" asked Burkhalter.
"This is Sergeant Maddock, the prisoners' spokesman, General."
"I see." Burkhalter moved closer to the sergeant and looked him straight in the eye.
"Do you have any complaints or comments, sergeant?"
Maddock took a deep breath. The general was an unknown commodity. He had no idea if he was facing an honorable and humane opponent, or a crazed Nazi. Based on the general's orders about the Polish prisoners, he feared the latter. Despite his trepidation, he decided to be honest. He was a proud British airman, after all, and his job now was to look after the men that had put their faith in his abilities to handle the German jailers.
"We've got leaky roofs, sir. That's why I'm here. Our mail hasn't been delivered, and we could always use more food. We're willing to do our part, but our work detail got canceled today because of the weather. Achoo. Excuse me."
"Gesundheit. What about the staff here, Sergeant?" asked Burkhalter.
Maddock glanced at Helga and then Klink. Klink was a known commodity; he was now able to anticipate the Kommandant's moves and reactions. Best to stay with what you know.
"Sir, the Kommandant, while strict and impossible to fool, is fair and humane. We're upset about the tunnels being found, but you can't blame us for trying."
Helga covered her mouth to hide a smile.
Burkhalter grinned, a sight that discomfited Maddock, as the general resembled a cat about to pounce on a mouse it planned to tease. "That is good to hear," he replied. He turned towards Helga and gave her a barely noticeable bow. "Thank you for your hospitality."
"You're very welcome, General. My Stalag is your Stalag." Klink was now in full milquetoast mode, a trait that did not go unnoticed by any of the people in the room.
"I was speaking to your secretary."
"Oh." Klink's face fell. "Your car should be here."
"Yes. It should. I will be back. As I mentioned, I plan on opening up an office in Hamelburg and requisitioning additional quarters for myself."
It took Klink a few seconds to realize that Burkhalter expected him to open the door. "Wait here, Sergeant. I'll speak with you in a few moments." Klink opened the door, and the two officers left the building, which gave Helga and Maddock a chance to speak in private without being overheard.
"We have to be quick," Maddock said.
"Yes. What are we going to do?"
"There's no way Klink will keep them here. They can't all escape. We have no way of getting them into the tunnel. And besides, there's too many."
"Perhaps I can convince the Kommandant to send some over to my father's factory in Dusseldorf," Helga said. "I'm not sure how these prisoners are to be housed or guarded, but they should be fairly safe there."
"What about the farms in the area?" Maddock asked. "A permanent agricultural labor force. We're sending me out there anyway."
"One of Oskar's friends is a farmer," Helga mentioned. "I can check into that. As long as the men aren't here when the general returns, he'll figure the Kommandant took care of the problem. You may be able to put the idea into his head, when he…"
Helga stopped talking as she heard the door begin to open. Klink, his coat dripping wet, entered the outer office. Helga rushed over to take his outerwear.
"Thank you, Helga. Well, I must admit, I'm glad that visit is over with." Switching to English, Klink said to Maddock, "Come into my office."
Maddock looked at the secretary and gave her a little wink.
After the door closed behind the Kommandant and the British sergeant, Helga picked up the phone and rang Oskar's home. Fortunately, he was in. She used a prearranged code to let him know a meeting was needed, and then she hung up and waited to see how the sergeant dealt with the Kommandant.
"So you see, sir. This weather has caused issues with work. We'd all rather not be here, but when we are asked to do a job, we like to do it properly. Not only does it affect food rations here, but the German children may suffer if the crops aren't planted, sowed, etc, etc. We've been having difficulties just keeping up with the animal husbandry."
"The what?" Klink asked.
"Taking care of the farm animals, sir."
"I see," Klink said, even though he didn't.
"It's a shame we can't have the men stay there permanently. They're doing that in England, you know. I think plans were drawn up beforehand to have your chaps help out." Maddock had no idea if that was the case, but his spin was taking on a life of its own, and it was beginning to mushroom out of control. To his shock, Klink seemed to be listening.
"I doubt the few German prisoners you have will be there for long," Klink replied, puffing up in indignation.
"Well, in the meantime, they're probably replacing the British men that have been called up."
"True," Klink agreed.
"It saves space in the prisons as well, sir. I'm sure you can appreciate that."
"I think it's out of the question," Klink decided. "Who would guard the prisoners?"
"I can guarantee that these men won't be going anywhere. Where could they go, in any case? They would be caught fairly quickly. Besides, it's probably safer here, than it is in, um… Poland, for example."
Klink stared at the sergeant for a moment. His eyes seemed to glaze over, and then his thoughts quickly passed.
"Well, I'll take it under consideration. But I doubt the farmers will agree." Klink scrawled a note on a piece of paper. "Take this to the guard outside. He'll take you over to supply to see about getting material to fix the leaks."
"Thank you, sir."
Maddock left the office hoping that his scheme had worked. The Kommandant had not told him about the order, and Maddock didn't know if that was a good or bad sign. He decided he would inform his staff, and also the leaders of the Polish contingent, but not the general camp population. For now, Maddock had planted the seed, and he, Helga and the rest of the camp had to wait for it to grow. If it did, and it took root, it would be a miracle. But, at this point, a miracle is what they would need to save the Polish prisoners.
A/N: "The significant importance of forced labor for the Reich and its warfare becomes obvious regarding German agriculture. Without approximately 2 million foreign laborers, by the end of 1940, sufficient production of food to supply all the inhabitants would have become impossible. From autumn 1941 on the German wartime economy depended without other options on foreign labor. Since not enough foreigners came voluntarily, more and more forced recruitment was utilized, especially from spring 1942 on...The largest number of foreign laborers in the area of the Reich was registered in August 1944 at 7,615,970. Among these were about 1.9 million prisoners of war and 5.7 million civilians. Of the 7.6 million, 2.8 million were from the Soviet Union, 1.7 million from Poland, and 1.3 million from France. Altogether, during World War II, up to 13.5 million men, women, and children were brought to the Reich and forced to labor.
There were great differences depending on whether a forced laborer was deployed in rural areas or in the cities. In the country, surveillance and persecution by the NS authorities were less comprehensive and basic food was easier to come by."
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