Tout Seul

We were put into the back of a van with a locked door, and a car with some guards followed. We drove a very short distance and got out in front of a one-story typical wartime temporary building. We had grown into a tight little group, supporting each other, and I really felt panic when we were separated from each other as we entered the building. I was alone, and it wasn’t like when I first left my plane. Now I was alone and a captive with no moral support. Then I had felt confident and on my own.

I walked down a hall with a guard behind. I felt sort of abandoned and wondered what next. I found out what next when I was stopped at about the middle of the hall where there was a man and a woman in German military uniform. The man was seated and the woman standing. I no longer feared I’d be shot; I figured if they had really intended to do that, it would have been done a long time ago. They both spoke English, and one of them, I’m not sure who, ordered me to strip right there in front of them and in this cold hall. I knew I was in no position to argue so I stripped. I stood in this cold hall for a long time, it seemed. I was very cold. My clothes were searched and so was I. By this time everything I’d had had been taken from me except a gold signet ring that my mother had given me. (It was very worn because my father’s mother had given it to him.) After this search I still had the ring.

Soldiers passed in the hall, both men and women, and finally I was ordered to dress. By this time my teeth were chattering. I was glad to get into my heavy underwear, my old friend and protection.

A guard came up behind me and ordered me down another hall and into an office. The office was well furnished and seated at the desk was a German officer. He was very civil and cordially greeted me and asked me to be seated. He even gave me a cup of coffee; I was thirsty so I drank it. He asked me my name, rank, and serial number, which I gave him, but when he asked my home address, I refused to give that information. He became very harsh in demeanor and told me I’d never be allowed to write to my family nor would they be advised of my whereabouts unless they had my address. Although name, rank, and serial number was all I was supposed to give, I thought what harm could my home address cause, so I told him. When I told him my home was Scarsdale, New York, he answered again in a friendly attitude and told me he had lived in Scarsdale for a couple of years. He told me about the town so I believed, indeed, that he had lived there.

I wouldn’t answer any of his other questions, and finally, very angry, he told me that anything I knew would be of little use because I’d been away from my base too long now, and he went on to tell me things about our bases that I thought were most secret. He even told me the name of my base. In all this talk he told me one thing I wanted to know which was that it was now February, but what date or day I didn’t know.

I was very abruptly dismissed. A guard appeared and pushed and rushed me down a hall. We stopped in front of an open door, and I was pushed in, the door slammed shut and locked. There I was absolutely alone.

The room was about as big as the cell I had shared with the four other guys. There was a rough bed and no one to share all this with me. There was no window so I couldn’t see out. I wondered what next, was I going to be left here? I sat down on the bed. It was made of rough unfinished wood with bed boards to support a canvas bag filled with straw, which served as a mattress. There was nothing else in the room except an electric heater in the wall. The heater had no visible controls that I could see.

I sat there a while feeling utterly alone and completely miserable. Then I heard someone singing and singing in English. I listened to the words. It was Gotty, and he was trying to contact someone. He said as much in the words he put into the song.  I answered, singing as best I could, and I heard others doing the same. Gotty was always dependable. He was a wheeler-dealer; who else would work out a contact? I didn’t feel so alone, so cut off from everyone.

It wasn’t long before the door opened, and a German officer came into the room, sat down on the bed, and told me to sit down. Then he began to question me in a loud angry voice, which increased in volume and anger as he showed his irritation at my lack of answers. He hit me a couple of times when we stood facing each other. I didn’t go down either time, I held my ground. I could hear the others singing encouragement; I could hear “Don’t tell him anything.” and I didn’t. He left telling me he’d return, and all I could think was “please don’t.”

I sat down and felt my jaw. It was sore, and I vaguely wondered if that German had broken something.

I laid back on the bed. All was quiet; I had no idea what time of day it was, but gradually I was getting cold. I got up and went over to the heater only to find it was stone cold. There was cold air coming out of it, and I could not find any way to stop it.

Some time later heat was turned on to an excessive amount. I took off my jacket as I was perspiring I was so hot. This didn’t last long but did make me think I was getting an expression of the German’s dislike for me, and I wondered if it were only me getting this treatment.

Time hung heavy on my hands. I started to pull straw out of the mattress which gave me the idea of weaving the 23rd Psalm into the rough canvas of the mattress; the weave was very open.

I had hardly started when a guard opened the door, came in and pushed me into the hall. I hardly had a chance to grab my jacket. Yelling “Rausch, Rausch” he hurried and pushed me down a hall. I was scared. I wondered if after all this time are they going to shoot me now and where are my friends?

There was a door at the end of this hall, and we rushed through this door, out into a dark night, and there stood my friends except for Sam, whom we never saw again. We couldn’t speak to each other and hadn’t time to even look around. We were rushed into a van, and it drove off. I no longer wondered, what next? I just accepted the next move. After all, I had no control over my immediate future, and that had a numbing effect on thoughts.

The drive in this van wasn’t too long. It was like other vans, cold and dark. We didn’t have a guard, but the door had been locked.

We arrived at a camp which seemed small, but there were a number of soldiers around. We had no idea where it was or what they were doing. There was no rushing, pushing or yelling. We were given some food and drinks, the first since our bread when we were still in jail early this day. We were hungry enough so that whatever it was, it was delicious. We didn’t get a chance to finish as the siren went off. We were rushed with the others into a bomb shelter, each of us taking some food with us. The shelter was mostly a deep trench. It was night so we knew we were being bombed by the British. They flew the night raids.

We were at this base for about a day and a half and spent a lot of time in the trench. During the day our own American planes bombed us and at night the British. I don’t think they were aiming at us. We got very little sleep here and not much to eat. What we ate we ate in the trench during long stays in the shelters.

We left this base as suddenly as anywhere else we had left, rushed into a van, door locked, and off again. This time the drive was very long. When we stopped and were let out, it was dark and we were in front of a railroad station. The sign showed it was “Frankfurt.” This was the first time I knew for sure where we were since we had left our jail cell in Lille.

©Joseph H. Harrison 1999