.
What's in a Name
Chapter 28
Oh, the Yanks are Coming
summer, 1942
Two men dressed in civilian clothes, their faces covered in soot, crouched behind a set of low bushes as they scanned the sky above. Sweeping lights and flashes lit the dark shadows crossing above them. Allied bombers carrying death and destruction to the German industrial region plowed forward; many would not reach their destination.
Corporals Peter Newkirk and Louis LeBeau observed their second summer in captivity with a now familiar and terrifying nightly ritual, rescuing downed fliers before German patrols could take the poor men prisoner.
"How long have we been doing this, Louis?" asked Newkirk. "Three months?" His stomach was in knots, and it was all he could do to keep his hands from shaking. He really needed a cigarette, but lighting up was too dangerous.
"It's only been three weeks," said his calmer partner.
"Oy," Newkirk sighed. He absentmindedly fingered his dog tags. "Tell me why I volunteered for these missions again?" he whispered. The Cockney was not normally one for idle chatter, but he found talking kept his mind off the danger.
"Because the French and British operatives thought this was a good use of our time, the tunnels, and the Underground. And so far, the coordination seems to be working." LeBeau shifted to a more comfortable position. "For once I'm glad I'm short," he muttered. He poked his partner. "Isn't this better than sitting around the camp sewing uniforms and waiting for someone to come and liberate us? Besides, think of what we are doing for France."
"Go on and sing La Marseillaise," Newkirk said good-naturedly. His friend was correct. This was better than sitting around and doing nothing. Escaping was not an option right now, although perhaps in the future they would give it another go. He hoped the Kommandant would eventually forget his threat to transfer the two to another camp if they were caught outside the wire. Once the weather improved after the harsh winter, it fell to other prisoners to make amateur escape attempts just to gauge Klink's reaction. After the debacle in the fall, no one wanted to take any unnecessary chances. To everyone's relief, Klink acted as expected; humanely, calmly, and confused as to why anyone would deliberately leave his Waldorf near the Rhine, as some prisoners jokingly called the prison camp. After the foiled attempts, Klink added the captures to his now lauded (his words) no-escape record.
A bright flash caught the corporals' attention. They looked up, and to their dismay, they watched a bomber explode.
"Come on. Let's have the chutes." Newkirk's fright disappeared, as all he could think of were the poor blokes on the plane.
"Look." LeBeau pointed. He could make out three chutes floating down to earth, the outlines of the silk caught in the flashes and searchlights. As he and Newkirk had done four times before, they slowly and carefully made their way closer to the landing area. Now came the most dangerous part of their mission, finding the downed men and avoiding shots fired by either German patrols or the frightened fliers.
They waited until the men touched down, and listening carefully for the approach of patrols, they crept over to the front of the brush. Newkirk and LeBeau could vaguely hear the three airmen landing yards apart. By carefully maneuvering their flashlights, they observed the fliers gathering their chutes, meeting up with one another and scampering behind some trees that lay ahead and just over to the right.
As they crept closer, LeBeau and Newkirk heard some talking, and the sound of digging.
"They sound American!" LeBeau whispered to Newkirk. "Magnifique! Ils sont ici!" His excitement sent him speaking in his native language.
"Charming! We'll sing Yankee Doodle when we get back to camp. Which I'd like to do in one piece." Newkirk pointed, indicating it was time to make a move.
"Hey, chaps," he said in a loud whisper. "We're here to help." He and LeBeau stood up, hands raised in a sign of surrender.
"Anyone hurt?" LeBeau asked, in both French and English.
"Who are you?" A lieutenant's pistol was aimed at LeBeau and Newkirk. The other two men, both sergeants, were caught off guard. They dropped their shovels and stared.
"We're working with the Underground," Newkirk replied as he lowered his hands. "We have to move fast to get you out of here before the patrols find you." He took several steps closer, then stepped back as the officer released the safety catch and steadied his weapon.
"There's no resistance in Germany," said one of the sergeants. "How do we know you're not some Nazis in disguise?"
"Forget burying your chutes, mes amis. We have to leave. And you'll have to trust us." LeBeau, no longer calm, had a hard time stopping the tremor in his voice. He was still not used to this part of the rescue operation.
"Where are we, exactly?" asked the lieutenant, his suspicion obvious in his eyes and facial expression.
"Outside of Hamelburg. About an hour away from Dusseldorf." Newkirk turned and started walking in the direction of camp. LeBeau followed.
"Wait."
The two prisoners turned and faced the lieutenant.
The officer dropped his weapon. "Just testing. I was at a briefing when the flight officer mentioned something about resistance in this sector. Let's follow these two," he told the sergeants. "If they were Germans, they'd be in uniform and waving around more firepower than those revolvers they have stuck in their pants."
The sergeants picked up their chutes, and obeying their lieutenant's orders, they picked up the rear. LeBeau headed to the back of the group, while Newkirk took the point.
On their previous rescue missions, Newkirk and LeBeau were astonished at how quickly the downed airmen became accustomed to their new and precarious situation. Once the initial introductions were completed, they generally obeyed orders and dutifully followed the two corporals to their next stop. It was this stop, the tree stump outside a prison camp, that made all the airmen think twice about trusting their two rescuers. The three men Newkirk and LeBeau found this evening were no exception.
"Hold on there!" the lieutenant reached for his weapon, but before he could draw it, Newkirk tackled him to the ground. The two other Americans and LeBeau hit the dirt as well. The searchlights passed harmlessly over the group.
"Yes, I know. It's a prison camp." Newkirk's muffled voice whispered in the lieutenant's ear. "I promise you, it will all make sense in a minute." There was a break in the searchlights, and LeBeau was already opening the lid to the tree stump and ushering the other men down the ladder. Newkirk rolled off the officer and stood up. "Hurry up, mate. We've only got a few seconds." This time, the lieutenant did not hesitate, and he followed his crewmembers down into the tunnel. Newkirk and LeBeau hit the dirt one more time, and then after a few moments, climbed down.
There were always men waiting for Newkirk and LeBeau to return. When they stepped off the bottom rung, the corporals found Maddock already speaking with the rescued fliers.
"You're correct. This is sector six, but I assure you, as it says on your maps, this is Stalag 13. Lucky for us." He let out a small chuckle. "I know this is hard to process for now. Actually, it's hard for us to process," Maddock said as he ran his fingers through his hair. "While the Germans are out there looking for you, you can stay here and cool off until the search is stopped. Then we'll hand you off to some friends, and they will get you out of the country."
"The camp is above us?" asked one of the American sergeants. "Amazing."
"They didn't tell us this part in the briefing." The lieutenant turned to LeBeau and Newkirk and held out his hand. "Thank you. I'm Lieutenant Riley, the navigator." He pointed to the other members of his crew. "Barclay and Rand."
"Our pleasure, Lieutenant. Sergeants." Newkirk grabbed a towel and began rubbing the soot off his face. "Sorry about the rest of the crew."
"We lost four in the plane, a gunner, our captain, co-pilot and radioman. Three others jumped before us. Two of them were hurt." Riley began to turn a bit pale. "The captain kept us steady so we could all get out. Then it exploded." He took a deep breath. "We only heard about resistance activity in this sector," the lieutenant said. "I take it your friends work with the Underground? Can they find the rest of our crew? And how are they going to get us out of here?"
"We'll let them know about the rest of the men," Maddock stated. "As to getting you back to the Allies? That, well...I don't exactly know." Maddock handed some water to each of the men. "Information is tightly controlled. We successfully sent two men back with these people earlier in the war, and just recently, a few others left and are making their way along the route the Underground set up. It could change at any time. It depends on troop movements, and safe houses." He looked up as that night's radioman, a corporal from Barracks 8, approached.
"All set. The message was received and acknowledged. Anything else?"
"Tell them there are three more crewmembers out there. That's it for now." Maddock turned to the three airmen. "You'll have to stay down here, but you have company. We have monitors down here most nights. O'Brien will show you around and get you settled. Whatever you do, don't come upstairs."
Riley nodded. "Understood."
The prisoners returned to the barracks to settle in for a few hours sleep. They were now feeling the affects of fatigue, a state familiar to them from combat. But they also felt a sense of accomplishment.
"Good work." Maddock was meeting with Newkirk and LeBeau in his office before they all turned in. This is getting to be a habit."
"This could go on every night as long as the weather holds, or the Allies bomb everything and there is nothing left." Newkirk said. "Ruddy war. Our blokes are taking a beating."
LeBeau yawned. "I hope I have the energy to cook tomorrow."
"I think we need backup." Maddock yawned as well. "You can't do all this yourself. I'll have to start looking for other volunteers tomorrow. We may have to go with non-German speakers. In fact..."
"No, you stay here. You have to man the fort down below." Newkirk's tone was firm. "If you get caught, especially after the escapes last fall, they'll throw the book at you. It's too risky. I'll find people. Don't you worry."
"I shouldn't have men taking risks I'm not willing to take," Maddock argued. "That's part of being a sergeant. You know that."
LeBeau and Newkirk exchanged glances, LeBeau giving a little shake of his head, while Newkirk shrugged.
"If you want a decent breakfast, John, I need to get to bed." LeBeau stifled another yawn.
"Go on." Maddock ushered the two out and closed the door. He stretched out his back, and rolled his shoulders several times to get out the kinks.
"Wait one minute. Who gives the orders around here?" Turning, he was about to go after the two corporals, then thought better of it. Newkirk and LeBeau were the two best operatives in the barracks. No, they were the best operatives in camp, for that matter. Since the failed escape, they managed to improve morale while earning the trust of several guards, most noticeably Schultz and Langenscheidt. Schultz, in turn, liked to blab about the visiting dignitaries, and on occasion, Newkirk was able to break into Klink's office safe and describe what was on important documents, and this information was passed to the Underground. The prisoners, while biding their time waiting for another escape opportunity, or the still far-off dream of liberation, did not feel so helpless anymore.
What Maddock did not realize, as he turned in for the night, was that events would soon test his command, and would make him think twice about continuing as MOC.
HhHhH
Klink was informed about the downed aircraft in the middle of the night. He sent out several groups of guards to search for the airmen, but the guards returned empty-handed. He hoped the Wehrmacht patrols would have better luck, and he settled into his office that morning ready to assist or to accept any captured prisoners. He and Helga worked on paperwork, the naming mess, and other mundane matters.
That afternoon, Schultz entered the office. Two privates, both carrying several boxes, followed.
"Put those there." Schultz pointed to the floor. "And then go get the rest of the boxes from the car."
Helga stood up and peered over the desk. "Hello, Hans. What are in the boxes?"
"Hello, Helga."
The privates placed two more boxes on the floor. Schultz thanked the two and dismissed them.
"Something the Kommandant sent me to get. Oh, that is right. Forgive me. You probably don't know."
"Know what?"
Schultz bent down to her level, and whispered. "Did you hear about the plane?"
"Yes. It crashed outside of town. Those poor men." Helga knew Schultz had a soft heart and would not want to see anyone hurt or killed.
"It was an American plane."
Helga's eyes opened wide.
"And, there were parachutes."
"Are we getting prisoners?" Helga asked. Besides the three hiding in the tunnel.
"We hope so. That is why the Kommandant sent me to get some things. Our first American prisoners. He is upset that Stalag 5 got their Americans first."
As if it is a contest, Helga thought. Men.
"That is very interesting, Sergeant. Shall I announce you?"
That was not necessary, as Klink, who had heard the voices outside his door, opened it. "Ah, Schultz you're back." Seeing the four boxes, he sighed happily. "You made out better than I had hoped. Well, let's see what you've brought."
He turned to Helga. "I sent Schultz out to get some items for the American prisoners. To make them feel more comfortable. It will take a while before their own Red Cross items get here, you know. They have an ocean to cross, and we keep sinking the ships."
Helga stood up. "You're very kind and generous, Kommandant. I can clean off the desk, and you can open them here." She felt bad about Schultz bending down.
The sergeant picked up the first box. "I couldn't find any American books as they were all burned. There are some in the prison library anyway. But, here are some items." He began to remove the contents of the box.
"Is this a baseball?" Klink picked up a ball. "That's as hard as a cricket ball."
"That is a baseball, Kommandant. And this is the glove they use to catch it in." Schultz handed Klink the mitt. "Wrong hand. Put it on your left hand."
"Ah. I see. Well, you definitely need this to catch that ball. It would hurt, otherwise. Do you have the bats?"
"Yes. I had them stored with the cricket bats. I also have some more sporting equipment, and some games they play in the United States."
"Marvelous." Klink was delighted. "Well-done, Schultz. How did you manage to find these items?"
"Contacts," Schultz answered, not elaborating. Helga smiled at him, and the sergeant smiled back. "Kommandant, are we getting the prisoners?"
"So far, I have not heard a word." Klink removed the mitt from his hand and placed it in the box. "We will get some Americans eventually. Take these to the recreation hall, and have some prisoners put the items away. I want them to know our men are shooting down American planes."
The phone rang and Helga picked it up. "Yes he is. Hold please. Kommandant, it is the town garrison commander." She handed Klink the phone.
"Klink here. Yes. When? Splendid. He did? Well, that makes sense. General Burkhalter is quite pleased with our operation here. Very good. Thank you."
Klink hung up the phone. "Helga, Schultz. The three surviving fliers have been captured, and they are being sent straight here. I must make preparations." He hurried into his office and closed the door.
"He's probably celebrating." Schultz frowned. He walked over to the door, and called for a guard. As the boxes were removed from the outer office, Helga wondered how this new complication would affect the men waiting to be processed and turned over to the Underground.
HhHhH
"Hey, Schultz. What's in those boxes?" Newkirk stood on his toes and tried to peek inside.
"Nothing."
"Well, it isn't nothing, is it? If it was nothing, you wouldn't need help carrying them out of there and over to the rec hall. Would ya? Did you bring us something new to keep us occupied?"
"Not exactly. Well, maybe." Schultz tried to sidestep the Englander, but Newkirk was very nimble, and seemed to always be one step ahead of the sergeant. "You will find out soon enough."
"Why don't you tell me now and save the trouble?" Newkirk removed a candy bar from his pocket and waved it in front of the sergeant's nose. This did the trick.
Schultz stopped and took the bar. "Take them inside," he told the other guards. "I'll be right there. Actually, Newkirk. I need some men to empty them and put the stuff away. I will tell you. I have, in those boxes, American sporting equipment. Like baseballs and gloves. And some other things." He took a bite of the candy bar and sighed. "This is good."
"Yes, I know. Why American sporting items? Why now?"
"A plane was shot down last night. Men from that plane are coming here."
Newkirk gulped. "I see. Thanks, Schultz. Got to go."
"But wait, don't you…" Schultz shook his head. "That Englander." Seeing some prisoners standing idly by, he pointed. "You and you. I need things put away in the recreation hall."
HhHhH
"Well, that's just dandy." Maddock snapped a pencil. "At least we know they survived the jump. You know when they are coming in?"
"No, he didn't say. Are you going to tell our guests?" Newkirk asked. He picked up both pencil halves, and put them in the can on Maddock's desk.
"I don't know," Maddock said honestly. "On one hand, it wouldn't be right to withhold that information. Besides, they are worried about them. On the other hand, how do you think they'll react if they find out they can leave, but the rest of the crew are stuck here for a while?"
"That is a fine mess." Newkirk left Maddock alone so that the sergeant could come to a decision. Not for the first time, the corporal realized he was happy to be a cog in the machine, and not commanding the works.
Maddock remained in his office for over an hour. Thinking about his dilemma, he mentally made a list of the pros and cons. Finally, he made his decision.
Maddock gathered his strength, and climbed down the ladder into the tunnels. He acknowledged the few prisoners working down there, and walked over to where the airmen were standing; they were in the process of trying on civilian clothes.
The three greeted the sergeant as he approached.
"Morning," he said. "How are you making out?"
"Getting our outfits together," was the reply from Lieutenant Riley. "Any word?"
"Yes, well, that is why I'm here." Maddock took a walk around the three men, checking out their attire. "Not a bad fit. Sorry, but there has not been any word from the Underground." Technically, that was not a lie. Seeing the fallen faces of the three Americans hit Maddock in the gut. I hope I'm doing the right thing, he thought sadly. "I'll let you know if I hear from them."
"Thank you, Sergeant." Riley shifted a bit and pulled up his pants. "I think these need a bit taking in. Any idea of when we can leave?"
"We should hear tonight," Maddock replied. "You'll be leaving through the tunnel. Someone from the Underground will meet you there." The last men rescued left in Oskar's truck, but Maddock did not want these three men in the compound. The chance of seeing the other members of their crew was too great.
After giving the men a few more instructions, he let other prisoners take over the preparations, and went up top. All of the residents of Barracks 2 were waiting for him.
"I just did something I didn't want to do," Maddock told them. "And I feel awful about it."
"You did what you had to do." LeBeau handed the MOC a mug of coffee. "We don't know how those three would have reacted. Same with the new prisoners. It wasn't worth the chance."
"You're right." Maddock took a sip, and then made a face. "Maybe we'll get better coffee in the American Red Cross packages. Listen. Except for roll calls, I want someone down there with those three 24/7 until they leave. And we need to spread the word about the incoming prisoners. No one is to say anything to them or the men down below."
"How about if we put them in here?" one of the residents asked. "That way we can keep an eye on them. We have the extra room."
"That's a great idea." Maddock snapped his fingers. "Except the tunnel entrance is in the middle of the floor."
"Hopefully, the other ones will be out of here by then," LeBeau said. "We can still use the dog house."
"Or the rolling fence." Maddock nodded. "Yes, I like that idea. I'll suggest it to Schultz. There shouldn't be any problem."
There were no issues with the plan. Fortunately, the new prisoners arrived after the rescued airmen left; the delay was due to medical treatment of the injured.
HhHhH
A week later, the three new prisoners, Foster, Mills and Saunders, sat down with Maddock and Newkirk. Amazed at the tunnel operation and the description of their captors, they did not seem disappointed that, for now, a mass escape was on the back burner.
"So, Schultz has been trained." Newkirk laughed. "We have him eating out of our hands."
"Literally," Maddock added with a chuckle.
"The Kommandant is not what I expected," Saunders commented. "And that secretary…?"
"The secretary is off-limits," Maddock warned. "Klink is an old-school aristocrat. He's not bad, but he's still a German officer. I doubt he has been effective. He should have advanced by now. He's also afraid of being noticed, in the wrong way, that is."
He then got serious and told them about the other three crewmembers. "As soon as we get word that they made it back safely, a message will be sent to England. They'll be told you three are all right and were sent here."
That news took a while to sink in. Seeing the look on the airmen's faces, Maddock and Newkirk glanced at each other. Maddock quickly stood up. "I know this is a shock. We'll leave." He and Newkirk left the three Americans alone in Maddock's office. The two could hear a heated discussion taking place behind the closed office door.
"How did it go?" asked Foss, who was visiting.
"Good, up until I told them about the other men." Maddock still felt sick about his decision.
"It's not like you got someone killed," Foss said. It took quite some time before the door opened and the three men walked into the common room.
"We understand," Foster said. "Not that we like it, but you did what you had to do. We're just glad those three are safe, and that they have a good chance of getting back to the fighting." He held out his hand.
Maddock smiled and took the sergeant's hand in his. "Thanks." He shook Foster's hand, and acknowledged Mills and Saunders.
"I guess this is a good time to tell you that I speak German," Foster said, as the rest of the prisoners gathered around and officially welcomed the three new prisoners to the fledgling clandestine operation.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the skies over England, the RAF and the fairly new, but pesky American bomber group-the 504th, trained for a joint bombing mission. Their upcoming target? Hamburg.