.
What's in a Name
Christmas, 1941
The Die is Cast.
One cold, snowy evening in December, Oskar and Greta Schnitzer entertained a houseful of guests. Oskar's niece, Heidi, and his father Rolf, who lived in a flat not far from Helga's apartment, were the first to arrive. The four sat in front of the fireplace, chatting about the holidays, the weather, and then, the war. The Americans entering on the side of the Allies cheered them, their optimism tempered by the knowledge that bombings would be sure to increase.
"Heidi should stay here with you," Oskar's father stated. "It will be safer. Although I don't know why they would bomb downtown Hamelburg."
"Bombs go off target all the time. But no, Grandfather." Heidi reached over and patted his arm. "I'll be fine. I think you should move here. Right, Uncle Oskar?"
"She makes good sense, Dad. We have the room." Oskar got up and stoked the fire.
"Besides, I may be moving to a larger place if I can find a suitable location. I ran into Helga the other day, and she mentioned that she would like to move out of her parents' flat," Heidi noted.
Both Greta and Oskar stared at Rolf.
"Oh, no. I couldn't," Heidi said as she realized what her aunt and uncle were thinking.
Rolf turned to Heidi. "You can and you will. In all honesty, the place is too big for me. It is hard to cook for one person, especially now. Besides, if I am here, I can help with Oskar's practice, and other things. I would love to take a look at that prison camp, Oskar." He winked at his son.
"So would I, Uncle."
Both Rolf and Heidi were members of the Underground cell, their participation mainly consisting of sewing jobs and keeping their eyes and ears open. They were also aware of what was going on underneath the camp.
There was a loud knock on the front door, and Greta rose from her chair. "That must be Helga and Otto now. Since her parents are ill, he offered to escort her here," Greta explained.
"How convenient." Rolf smiled. He found the young secretary a breath of fresh air, and he enjoyed hearing about the humorous side of the camp naming and numbering fiasco.
Otto and Helga offered greetings to everyone as they brushed the snow off their coats. They handed them to Oskar who hung them on a coat rack near the front entrance.
The secretary handed a large package to Greta. "Merry Christmas. Please open it. It's for everyone to share."
"Thank you so much." Greta tore the brown paper and removed a large box. She looked at Helga, and then opened it, revealing tins of jams, marmalades and tinned meat. "I can't accept this," she said. She showed the treasure to her husband.
"It's quite all right," Helga said. "The kommandant had presents sent over from France and gave me two boxes for the holiday. He really is quite kind. I gave the other box to my parents; the rationing is taking a toll."
"How are they?" Heidi asked.
"Better. They are in the end stage of their colds. Not as miserable, but not quite right. They send their regrets," Helga answered.
"Helga," Heidi said. "Remember our talk about finding a place together?"
"Yes. Although in these times, I doubt that is possible. I also do not think mother and father will be very happy, but I would like to move on. It is hard entertaining young men while your parents are in the kitchen," Helga said. "Not that there are many young men around," she quickly added.
"I agree. Well, we may have found our guardian angel," Heidi said, excited to give her friend the news. "Grandfather is moving here, and his flat will be available."
"That's wonderful!" Helga gave Rolf a kiss.
The man laughed. "I think I made the correct choice. What about the town and getting permission for the move? They could appropriate my flat, you know."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Dad. I still have some pull with the town. They think I'm the model citizen, and I've done them a lot of favors over the years."
Otto nodded. "He's the golden boy after his work at the prison camp, even if he isn't a party member."
"Perish the thought," Greta said. The two made a decision back in the early thirties not to put in an application for party membership. They could not live with themselves if they had. Fortunately, it did not affect Oskar's practice, although they did know of a few local businesses boycotted by local members of the Nazi party. The owners did not apply for membership and suffered the consequences.
"I'm sure the kommandant can also put in a good word," Helga added. "He does have some authority. He's the highest-ranking officer permanently stationed here." She giggled. "Although, come to think of it, authority may not be the correct word to describe the man. I think the prisoners may end up running the camp, if the kommandant is not careful."
"Speaking of the prisoners; how is their morale, lately?" asked Heidi. "Must be hard around the holidays."
Helga sat down. "It's been better. They are still upset over the failed escape. And Sergeant Maddock, that poor man; he spent quite a lot of time in the cooler as punishment. The kommandant was furious. Now he is strutting his record around like a peacock. No successful escapes. Honestly, I am getting tired of hearing about it. I can only imagine what the other kommandants and the upper echelon must think."
Greta passed around some of the contents of Helga's gift, and Otto tried a cracker with a bit of jam. "That is good. Pity it has to come from conquered territory. Now that the communications system is up and running between our cell and the camp, things may improve. Although, for obvious reasons, I will not divulge who is operating the other end."
"How's the Underground Railroad coming?" Rolf asked, using the American terminology for the safe houses and routes built to hide escaping slaves.
"Better, Dad." Oskar answered. "We are working on a northern escape route, just in case. And we can hide more men now, and for longer periods."
He did not clarify any further, but Helga assumed downed fliers and maybe escaping prisoners would hide for longer periods, frustrating the German patrols. Maybe, she thought, they would be in the tunnels. She smiled, thinking of her accidental contribution to the system.
"Enough business," Greta said. "Let's celebrate the holiday, which is why we are here. A toast." She raised her glass, and everyone else did the same. "To the Americans and to the defeat of Fascism."
The group of friends spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about better times.
Meanwhile…
A sullen group of men, still feeling the aftermath of the foiled escape attempt, celebrated their second Christmas as prisoners. As punishment, Klink closed the recreation hall for all of October, and reduced the hours for the rest of the year. Their electricity was cut, a real hardship, now that the days were short. The worst consequence, by far, was the transfer of several of the escapees. Those caught near the border were immediately sent to other camps. Klink informed the prisoners that this was normal practice, and there was nothing they could do to bring them back. Klink reassured Maddock that the kommandant at their new camp was humane, but the MOC felt a vast amount of guilt over this turn of events.
The Red Cross packages and gifts in the mail, for those lucky enough to receive them, lightened their spirits a bit, as did the entrance of the United States into the war. Although they knew the effects would not be felt for a while, it boosted their hope tremendously.
Escapes were off the table for the time being. However, the use of the tunnel as a place to hide more prisoners for a longer period, or maybe downed fliers, intrigued the Allied conspirators. After all, they hid Captain Marceau, and the flier Newkirk and LeBeau rescued months back could have waited there as well. With nothing better to do, the POW's began to make the tunnel more habitable, and they showed Oskar their progress. They set up a sleeping alcove in an area away from the main entrance to Barracks 2. The carpentry team easily put together several cots with extra wood and stolen mattresses. Whatever Red Cross rations and medical supplies they could spare were stored in a cupboard. They also built a small privy in an unused corridor.
"Plumbing would be nice," commented Bellows, who was conducting one of his periodic inspections. He pulled aside the curtain and gave the facility a peek. "Needs some flowers."
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Bellows." Maddock laughed. "One thing at a time."
Bellows and Maddock doubled back and headed down another corridor. This area linked the system to Barracks 6. Eventually, the prisoners would dig narrow access tunnels to other barracks. Bellows stood on a ladder as he examined the ceiling. "Looks good," he said. "How's the other storage area coming?" he asked.
"Just about done," Maddock replied. "We can start moving the Underground's chemical supplies in there by tomorrow, I think."
To the consternation of most of the prisoners, one of the larger Underground cells planned to create havoc by conducting bits of sabotage in the area. At first, the prisoners worried about reprisals and civilian round-ups. The Underground, more concerned with supplies, shrugged the prisoners' concern aside. For now, the tunnel system seemed the safest place to store them. Although the chemicals made everyone nervous, a contact assured them that as long as the chemicals remained separated, there was no danger.
In exchange for their help, the prisoners received more radio equipment from France. The telegraph system was in place, and radio contact between the camp and one brave anonymous soul living in Hamelburg was imminent. A radio operator (the camp had several) manned the communication area for several hours each evening after roll call. They were proficient, and they taught others how to use the equipment. Most of the prisoners knew enough Morse code to get by. Some prisoners took Morse and German lessons in clandestine classes. Hygiene lectures, and other innocuous subjects- the tutors could switch at a moment's notice-fooled the guards and the kommandant.
Several prisoners, transferred from nearby Stalag 5 due to overcrowding, verified that these small efforts at fighting back also took place in other camps.
The radio operator on call that night, an older sergeant in his mid-thirties, looked up as Maddock and Bellows approached. "Evening," he said. "Nothing on the telegraph. Picking up German radio, though." He frowned. "Just your usual screaming and martial music."
"How's the equipment holding up?" Maddock asked.
"All right for now. Not sure what to do if it breaks, especially the radio." He took a sip of his hot drink, and frowned. "Give anything for a right spot of tea."
"Can't you all fix it if it breaks?" Bellows asked.
"Not bloody likely, unless it's minor," the sergeant replied. "We can take these things apart and put them back together, but without the parts, it will be difficult. Some of the maintenance fellows back on base were better at it. We had other things to deal with up in the air."
"Well, we'll hope for the best. I'm sure we'll be hiding some fliers in here shortly," Maddock stated. "Right under the kommandant's nose."
"That will make my day, for sure," Bellows said.
The radio operator laughed. "Happy Christmas to you, Klink." He raised his mug. "And thank you for the hospitality."
And furthermore...
Klink squinted at his reflection in the mirror. What he saw, besides his receding hairline, was a proud and capable Oberst, commander of the toughest POW camp in Germany. He held himself up a little higher, and turned his head. Nodding in satisfaction, he completed his evening rituals, counting the strokes as he brushed his teeth. He left the bathroom and headed into his bedroom. Schultz had already turned down the sheets and was in the process of bringing Klink's nightly glass of warm milk to the kommandant.
Klink was in the middle of reading a novel, but before picking up the book, he reflected upon the last several months. Since he successfully masterminded the recapture of the eight missing prisoners, there had been no other escape attempts. "Took the wind out of your sails," he chuckled. His record was perfect, and, despite the small number of actual attempts, he felt more than justified rubbing it in. His camp population was tiny; he told all who would listen. So based on that, the percentage of attempts and recaptures were relative. It made sense that throughout the POW system, the massive camps, larger work details and longer transport convoys, would automatically have more attempted escapes. If some were successful, well, that was their fault. After all, they had more resources at their disposal.
As he told General Burkhalter, statistically speaking, Luft Stalag 13's record was more than remarkable. He frowned as he recalled Burkhalter's reaction. "So you've told me," the general repeated. Then he yelled at Klink again for not completing the task of fixing the numbering error.
Wisely, Klink did not remind the general the numbering error was responsible for the large group of extra guards sent to the wrong Hamelburg. After all, they helped recover some of the missing prisoners. Picking up his book, he removed the bookmark and began reading the next chapter. However, he had trouble concentrating. Whether it was the holiday, the weather, or the thought of a new year causing his lack of focus, he could not tell. Perhaps it was the news. The thought of the Americans entering the conflict gave him pause. Truthfully, he was not sure that declaring war on the United States was a good thing. The country was so big, and their manufacturing capacity, he had read before the war, was tremendous.
Recent rumors that Russians were retaking territory also worried him. But those issues were not his concern. For the most part, Klink preferred to stay safely under the radar and just worry about his camp. Soon enough, he realized, he would have to make room for American airmen. He had faith in the Luftwaffe, and he was sure they would shoot down the American planes in droves. A tap on the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in," Klink said.
The door opened and Schultz, carrying a tray, entered the room. As usual, he presented the kommandant's milk with a flourish.
"Your milk, Kommandant." Schultz placed the glass on the nightstand next to the bed. "Will there by anything else?"
"Thank you. Yes, Schultz. A question. Have you ever been to America?"
"No, Kommandant. Have you?"
"No. Although, and this is just between us, I have always wanted to go. Just because we are enemies now, well, it does not mean the Grand Canyon is less beautiful, or the Redwoods less majestic. Perhaps after the war, I will have a chance."
Schultz nodded in agreement. "Perhaps. Do you think the war will last longer, now that the Americans will be fighting?" he whispered. "Not that the Fuehrer does not know what he is doing," he quickly added.
Klink waved away Schultz's concern. "I do not believe so, and I would not worry." He took a sip of his milk. "The Americans do not have the stomach for war and fighting," he said, although he was not sure he believed it. "After all, it took a surprise attack by Japan to get them to actually declare war. They will soon tire of it. But meanwhile, Schultz, I believe we will soon see American airmen become our guests."
"Now that, Kommandant, will be interesting."
"Yes, it will. I'm set. You're dismissed."
"Thank you, Kommandant. Have a good night."
As Schultz left the room, the prospect of conversing with the Yanks cheered Klink, and he was able to go back to his reading.
While Schultz walked back to his quarters, he pondered over what the kommandant had said. He had fought the Americans during the previous war, and he did not think for a minute that the country would tire of fighting. Once the United States put their mind to something, they would not stop until the task was completed. Schultz was also a factory owner. He knew how easy it was to switch his toy factory over to armaments. He thought about all the factories in the United States. On the other hand, Klink was correct. American airmen would eventually be moving into this camp. He smiled as he recalled the doughboys he met after the armistice. Would they get along with the current but small group of multinational residents? He assumed they would work together. Schultz knew without a doubt, it was inevitable the new arrivals would change the camp. He just did not realize how much things would change.
a/n:
I couldn't find Oskar's father's first name anywhere, so Rolf it is!
There are many theories as to why Hitler declared war on the United States first, and/or even if it was actually necessary, given the treaties/pact with Japan. Too much history to go through and I'm not confident in writing about that specific topic. I can see Klink having second thoughts, and then putting them out of his mind. And Schultz, as we know, is smarter than he appears. Whatever the reason, it was (like invading Russia) a colossel mistake. The Americans would have been more interested in fighting Japan over Germany, since it was Japan that attacked the country. In terms of Roosevelt's interests, as well as the rest of the interventionists who wanted to join the fight against Germany, Hitler declaring war first, was the best thing to happen.
There had to be quite a few wireless operators in the prison camp. (Not just Kinch and Baker, and my theory is that they worked on an airbase, not in the bombers.) The ground maintenance men may have been better at jury-rigging and fixing the equipment, although since the training of the wireless operators in both Air Forces was long and quite extensive, the operators had to know quite a bit about maintaining the equipment.
The lack of other prisoners working on the radios (the system of only having four , or five, if you count Olsen, men doing everything for the most part doesn't work) but that's how it is in the show, and it's hard to work around if you maintain canon.
Kinch and/or Baker couldn't be down there 24/7. And we know they had departments., such as Forgery, digging, metal workshop.. Why would the top operatives be responsible for digging tunnels, etc? (Because, Sue, it's just a TV show, and those were the actors with the lines, the contracts, and the equity card, LOL) I'm only speaking of work inside camp. The outside missions had to be limited to those with absolutely perfect German language skills. Same with impersonating Germans on phone calls and the radio.
So, I'm ignoring the contradictions. Eventually, for safety reasons, Hogan may have limited most important clandestine activity to the men in Barracks two, and a few others, and that was it, leaving the rest to meander in the compound and create diversions.