War Brothers

by Patrick Slaney

  ‘Did you happen to talk to Lothar Meier when you were in the cell? Is he reasonably comfortable?’

  ‘Yes, I had a long chat with him and he appears to be surviving. He did complain that he is extremely cold.’

  ‘Oh, he’ll come through it alright. He is always ending up in there due to his terrible temper. He is always getting involved in fights. When the guards come in to break up the fight they always grab him and throw him in there for a few days.’

  ‘Which hut will you be putting me in Sir?’

  ‘I’ll put you in hut H with a lot of other Luftwaffe officers. You may even know some of them.’

  ‘Are we finished Sir? Can you possibly get someone to show me to hut H?’

  ‘Yes, I have heard enough from you. You are dismissed, and I will get Curt to show you to your hut.’

  ‘Thank you Sir.’

  I had survived my first inquisition. I was thankful that Major Richards had prepared me so well. He would have been proud of the way I had given all the details of my imprisonment. I reckoned that I had done a good job. I now would be able to relax and learn more about being a POW. Fortunately none of the Luftwaffe officers in Hut H knew me, and I had never met any of them.

  After two days, the monotony was starting to get to me. How on earth did they put up with this lack of activity, week after week? There was nothing to do. First thing every morning there was a bit of activity as we all had to go on parade. They checked the numbers to make sure that nobody was missing. During the day, some of the men played football; others did exercises to keep fit and others read the few books that had been sent from home. There was also a drama group who were rehearsing a play. I was amused to see that all the female roles had to be played by male prisoners, but there was still a problem in getting people to play the female parts. It wasn’t considered manly, and there were a lot of comments which weren’t flattering. I was darned glad that I was only programmed to stay a week in this hell hole.

  The following Wednesday I was slipped a piece of paper by one of the guards. I went in search of a quiet place where I wouldn’t have company and opened it.

  Thursday, at around eleven o’clock, you are to pick a fight with a prisoner and create a significant disturbance. You will be arrested and locked up. That night you will be removed from the camp and taken away. This is your ticket out. Destroy this note after reading it.

  I had been wondering how they were going to get me out without causing suspicion. This was quite an ingenious plan as they then could tell the remaining prisoners that I was a trouble maker and, for the second time, I was being moved.

  After the parade the following morning, I decided to join the football game. I reckoned that it would be easier to pick a fight in a game when emotions would be running high, than just walking around the compound.

  I was quite aggressive in my play and feathers were getting ruffled on the other team. Finally, I made a nasty tackle and the player that I had fouled squared up to me. This was just what I wanted, so I hit him. One of his team members came to his rescue and started throwing punches. My team members gathered around to support me. There was a monumental brawl.

  The guards were standing by waiting for the fight to start, so they quickly moved in.

  ‘Who started this?’ Sergeant ‘Mad-dog’ shouted.

  ‘He did,’ the man that I had first hit replied, pointing at me.

  ‘Yes, it was him,’ his other team members shouted, now all pointing at me.

  The guards frog marched me out of the fenced off area to the cell where I had been locked up on my arrival. Lothar had been long since released back into the camp, and it was empty, so I had nobody to talk to.’

  Safely locked up, I stayed there for the remainder of the day. A few hours after sunset they came to get me. I was loaded into the back of a truck and driven out of the camp. A few miles from the camp, the truck stopped, and I was transferred to a car which took me back to Witley Park. My time in a Prisoner of War camp had come to a successful end.

  As I went in through the entrance door of Witley Park, I smelt the odour of tobacco smoke. Major Richards duly greeted me.

  ‘Welcome back again Markus. Did you have an enjoyable time in Taunton?’

  ‘Let’s put it this way, I survived and am alive to tell the tale.’

  ‘Get changed out of those clothes and meet me in the bar. You can then tell me how you got on as a prisoner. You are too late for dinner.’

  Chapter 36

  I went to my room and changed into casual clothes and joined the Major in the bar, relieved to be back in civilisation. What a contrast to the POW camp in Taunton. Here, I was treated as an individual and had a lot of perks such as proper food and a drink when I wanted it. So far my decision to work with the British was paying off.

  ‘Will you have your usual beer Markus?’ the Major asked me as I joined him at the bar. ‘I think that you have earned it.’

  ‘That would be very welcome thank you. My life at the camp was basic to put it mildly, and I felt under pressure the whole time that I was there.’

  ‘Well you can relax now until you set off for France.’

  The first beer went down extremely smoothly and the second and the third. I hadn’t had any dinner, and the meal that I had eaten at the camp was meagre, to say the least, and a long time ago. I was getting drunk, and by midnight I was more than drunk. In fact, I hadn’t been as drunk since my student days in Kiel.

  The next thing that I knew I was being shaken awake and dragged out of bed. I learnt later that the Major had ordered a few of the trainees to take me to my room, remove my outer clothes, and put me into bed in my underclothes. I don’t remember any of what happened, I was too drunk

  Rudely pulled from my bed, my head was still spinning from the drink. It was dark so I couldn’t see who was pulling me out of bed. They didn’t stop there. They dragged me un-ceremonially out of the room, down the stairs and brought me to a room at the back of the building. I was tied to a chair and they left the room, leaving me totally on my own.

  I hadn’t been in this particular room before even though I had been living in the house, off and on for at least four months. It was about four meters wide and five meters from front to back. The door was facing me. A single glaring light bulb lit the room. The walls were painted a hideous pale hospital green. The same disinfectant smell that had been in the guard house at the POW camp pervaded the air. What was going on? There hadn’t been one word uttered during the process of dragging from my bed into this barren room. Roped into the chair, wearing nothing but my underclothes, I was feeling extremely vulnerable. The worst part of it all was that I had nothing on my feet, and the floor was made out of flagstones. The cold was intense as there was no heating in the room.

  My senses started to come to life as the effects of the alcohol wore off. I now had another problem. Having had so much beer to drink the night before my bladder was full. It was most uncomfortable as I fought the desire to get rid of the liquid. I held back as long as possible, but in the end I had no choice, my bladder won over my desire not to wet myself, and I let it go. The release was immense, but I and the room was now stinking of urine and I was saturated from the waist down.

  There was no window in the room, so I had no idea what time it was or how long I had been incarcerated. What seemed like hours later I heard the door being unlocked, and I expected a person I was familiar with to come through the door and tell me that it had all been a terrible mistake.

  A totally unknown officer came through the door. He was dressed in a Captain’s uniform, had thin angular features and had the appearance of an undertaker. He looked down at me and wrinkled his nose.

  ‘Oh you filthy creature you have pee’d all over yourself and the floor. I will have to get this cleaned up before we can start.’

  He stormed out, slamming the do
or behind him.

  That certainly didn’t make me feel any better. I had expected a friendly face and all I got was a scowl and a strong rebuke. I was still none the wiser as to what was going on.

  The door opened, and a Private entered with a bucket of water and a mop. He threw the bucket of cold water over me and then mopped up the mess on the floor. I now had water dripping off me, and I felt even more uncomfortable. If I had felt vulnerable before, I was now starting to get genuinely worried. He sprinkled disinfectant around the room and left.

  The door opened again, and the unpleasant officer re-entered. He sat down opposite me. The Private who had cleaned up my mess took up guard duty just inside the door. He also didn’t look too happy.

  ‘Name?’ he barked at me.

  ‘Lieutenant Markus Bekker.’

  ‘Why are you lying to me Oberleutnant?’

  ‘What do you mean, lying to you?’

  ‘Don’t answer back. You are an officer in the German Luftwaffe.’

  ‘Yes, I was an officer in the Luftwaffe, but I am now in the British army as Major Richards can verify.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid, how could you transfer from one army to the other? You are lying.’

  ‘But it is the truth. I have agreed to work for British Intelligence.’

  ‘That is absolute rubbish. Don’t you think I would have been told if you had changed sides and were now working for the British?’

  I just sat there in total disbelief. Was this man a raving lunatic, or had I done something to undermine the trust that Major Richards had placed in me?

  ‘I am going to leave you here, to think over your situation. I will come back later, and you had better decide to tell me the truth.’ He got up and left the room together with the Private. I heard the key turn in the lock, locking me in.

  I was still tied to the chair. I was soaked from the waist down, I was sitting in a pool of water, and, with my bare feet on the cold floor, I felt totally exposed and naked. My mind was totally confused, and I didn’t know what to do or say. I had never known despair in my life, but in the space of a few hours my whole life had come tumbling down around me. What did this horrible man want me to say and how could I get him off my back?

  They left me sitting there for what seemed to me like hours. I had no way of knowing what time of the day or night it was as the room had no windows. Eventually I heard the lock being turned, and my persecutor came back in plus his trusty Private.

  ‘What year were you born in Lubeck?’ He started asking me totally different questions.

  ‘I was born on the 5th February 1917.’

  ‘Do you have a twin brother?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘He was killed in the Battle of Britain in July of last year.’

  ‘Did you kill him?’

  ‘No, in fact, he was the one that shot me down.’ Where were these questions leading? I didn’t like the fact that they had brought my brother into it.

  ‘I know that he shot you down, but you then killed him when he landed. Isn’t that correct?’

  ‘No, that is not correct. He was killed when he hit power lines and was thrown out of his cockpit.’

  ‘That’s not the truth, is it? You killed him and stole his uniform, hoping to get away.’

  ‘I did take his tunic to help me escape. He was dead, so he didn’t need it.’

  ‘You are a thoroughly nasty piece of work to kill your own brother just to save your own skin. I’ll leave you now. I will come back later to hear the truth.’ He stormed out of the room with the guard. I heard the door being locked.

  How could he possibly believe that I would kill my brother? Tears came to my eyes as I thought back to that fateful day last July when my brother had been killed. I, unfortunately, wasn’t able to prove that I hadn’t killed him, and I had switched my tunic for his to enable me to escape the scene and go to my father.

  I was trapped and now feared what the outcome of this interrogation would be. Was I actually being accused of murder? All I could do was tell the truth.

  I hated the waiting and the games my mind was playing. Why had I been pulled out of bed in the middle of the night and subjected to such humiliation? I had been doing so well, and Colonel Thorpe and Major Richards had been so pleased with the way that my training was going. I had been turned from being a hero into a criminal overnight.

  Physically I was starting to wilt. I was shivering with the cold and feeling weak from hunger. I hadn’t eaten for about a day now, and my large frame needed its sustenance. I was also becoming dehydrated from the after-effects of the alcohol I had consumed last night.

  The door opened, and the interrogation continued.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what you did to your brother?’ he asked me.

  ‘I didn’t kill him. He was already dead when I removed his tunic.’

  My interrogator suddenly smashed a stick down on the table, startling the life out of me, and he stood up.

  ‘I am tempted to use this stick on you. What do I have to do to make you to tell the truth?’ he shouted at me glaring into my eyes.

  ‘I loved my twin brother, and there is no way that I would have killed him. It is exactly as I have told you.’

  ‘I don’t believe you, but continue with your story up until you got back from the POW camp in Taunton.’ He sat down again and leant back in his chair, scowling but listening.

  I related all that happened to me including details of my training and the events that took place in Cornwall. He didn’t interrupt me, but just listened.

  When I had finished, he leant forwards in his chair, putting his arms on the table that stood between us and steepled his fingers.

  ‘What is your name?’

  “Lieutenant Markus Bekker assigned to British Intelligence.’

  ‘Are you sure? Do you not want to convince me that you are Oberleutnant Markus Bekker of the Luftwaffe?’

  ‘No, I am now a member of British Intelligence.’

  He got up from his chair and leant towards me across the table. I thought he was going to hit me. Instead, he smiled.

  ‘Well done Lieutenant you came through that test remarkably well.’ He came around the table to untie the ropes binding me to the chair.

  My mouth dropped open, and I was speechless for a few moments.

  ‘What do mean it was a test,’ I finally gasped, highly annoyed at what they had done to me.

  ‘I am sorry for what you have been through, but we needed to see how you would bear up under interrogation and out of your comfort zone. I was asked to come and put you through a few hoops. Let me go and get Major Richards as he has been a bit concerned for your welfare and state of mind.’

  The guard followed him out and came back a few minutes later with a cup of tea for me.

  My interrogator and Major Richards came back into the room.

  ‘How are you feeling Markus after what we have put you through for the last twelve hours? The only way of demonstrating what an extended period of interrogation does to you was by letting you experience it,’ the Major said genuinely apologetic.

  ‘I suppose getting me drunk last night was part of the process?’ I enquired.

  ‘Yes, we wanted you to be as inconvenienced and as uncomfortable as we could make you’

  ‘Well all I can say is that you did an extremely good job of it. I have never felt so humiliated and uncomfortable in my life. At no time did I get any indication that it was a test. I was convinced that it was for real, especially when he started accusing me of murdering my brother.’

  ‘I think that we have kept you long enough in this room. You probably would like a hot bath, some warm clothes and some food?’

  ‘Can you please tell me what time it is?’


  ‘It is 6:00 pm, so you have time to have a bath before dinner. I am sure that you are hungry.’

  ‘I can safely say that I have never been hungrier, and my body is crying out for food.’

  ‘I’ll see you in an hour then.’ I grabbed a blanket that had appeared from somewhere and wrapped it around me as I left my place of torture.

  Chapter 37

  I have never enjoyed a bath more. After the events of the worst day of my life which had started around 4:00 am the previous night, soaking in a hot tub restored my self-esteem and confidence.

  As I lay there, I thought back to the hell I had endured. At one point, I had thought that my freedom was at an end and that I would be incarcerated for the remainder of the war. If they had pinned the murder of my brother on me, I might even have been imprisoned in a gaol, rather than in a POW camp.

  When they finally had told me that it was just a test, a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and I had been brought back into the real world. How could they have done such a thing to me without giving me any prior warning?

  Eventually, I managed to work up the courage to leave the sanctuary of the now quite cold water, and dry off. After dressing in warm clothes, I went down to eat dinner.

  Major Richards asked me to join him at the table where he was sitting with my interrogator.

  ‘You can join us here Markus, and we promise not to talk about the events of today. I will go over the experience with you in the morning after breakfast. The Colonel will be with me’

  ‘I appreciate that Sir. I need to unwind for a bit now, and I don’t think that I want another beer for quite a while.’ I smiled.

  ‘I won’t be here in the morning and would like to give you one comment before we drop the subject,’ my interrogator said. ‘You stood up to me remarkably well and didn’t let me bully you. Don’t let the person doing the interrogation get the satisfaction of feeling that they are intimidating you.’

  ‘Thank you Sir. I’ll remember that if I ever should be captured and interrogated.’