“I’m afraid I lost my temper then. I told her what I thought of the General and the way everybody seemed to worship him as some sort of god. I suppose I hoped to get a rise out of her but it had precisely the opposite effect. She simply looked at me in a sorrowful way and said the army took precedence over everything here in Germany as the rest of us were either support staff or dependents. Like it or not, I would just have to get used to it.
“Well, damn the army then, I said, and burst into tears. I was so embarrassed that I just fled and almost knocked a German customer over in the process! After I apologized to the customer, I realized who it was – Frau Gafford, no less.”
“The lady who sold us Boz, you mean?”
“Exactly, and do you know she was so kind, telling me that she couldn’t help overhearing what I had said and moreover knew just how I felt!”
“Suddenly I recalled what you’d suspected all along, that her husband had been in the army and recalled the strange business over the medal. So I asked her straight out – did that have something to do with her husband? Well, she looked away at this point, obviously recalling a painful memory, and then suggested we have coffee in the garrison cafè. Then she told me the whole story. She hadn’t set foot inside Brockendorf Garrison in all these years but today, when her curiosity finally got the better of her, she actually bumped into me!”
This was becoming intriguing. I recalled Gafford’s reaction when I spoke to him on the phone.
“Did she tell you anything about her husband?”
“She did. In part, at least. Apparently, he’d been thrown out of the army by a court martial without any cause years ago and has never really got over it.”
“Did she go into any further details?”
“No, she didn’t feel she could tell me more herself. However, when I told her what you do as a job, she had an idea. If you confronted her husband, he might just open up a bit and, at least, get the whole thing off his chest.”
I shook my head.
“Judging by his reaction when I spoke to him about the medal, I think that’s unlikely. The chances are that he’ll be furious at me for interfering.”
“That was my reaction too, Charlie, when you first told me. But I think we’re both wrong. You see, Frau Gafford went quiet for a bit at first but then remembered one thing her husband had always maintained: that had there been a judge advocate present at his court martial, things could have been different. He might have received a fair trial.”
Ten
Gafford opened the door at a time when, by prior arrangement, I knew his wife wouldn’t be in. I was determined to say my piece before he had a chance to speak.
“No wonder you wanted to get rid of this,” I said, dangling the medal in front of him. “Who wouldn’t, in your situation? Your wife has told me that you were kicked out of the army by a court martial and there wasn’t even a judge advocate officiating!”
About to slam the door in my face, Gafford’s look of fury turned into a frown.
“You’re the chap who bought the puppy from us, aren’t you and later rang me! My wife’s obviously been talking. Anyway, what the hell would you know about any of this?”
“Oh enough, I think. You see, I happen to be a judge advocate and, from what I’ve gathered, I suspect a gross injustice was done to you.”
There was a long pause. Gafford sighed.
“You’d better come in then.”
Taking me to a book-lined room which was obviously his study, he offered me a beer.
“That’s very kind of you, thank you.”
“Make yourself comfortable whilst I go and fetch it.”
Curious always as to people’s reading material I glanced at the bookshelves which seemed to contain German novels in the main with a smattering of English tomes mainly about gardening. On top of one shelf, a photograph of a much younger Frau Gafford was prominently displayed.
“That’s my Beatrix,” Gafford said returning to the room and giving me the beer, “when we first married. I met her when I was posted to Brockendorf in 1947 not long after the war. Her mother had been killed in an air raid. Her father…well, his name was Fritz Birnbaum...have you ever heard of him?”
I shook my head.
“No reason why you should have done, really. Although he was in the SS, he wasn’t in the top echelons of the Nazi party. He disappeared after the war and Beatrix didn’t know whether he was alive or dead. Then the British Military Police discovered him in Hanover. He was tried for war crimes relating to the shooting of a group of elderly Jews in Poland and he was hanged in 1948. But if you really want to hear the whole story, I’ll start at the beginning.”
“I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Gafford sighed and made his way to a sideboard. After extracting a bottle of German brandy from it, he poured himself a large measure.
“It happened a long time ago and I’ve never talked about it before. It will take a while, I’m afraid...”
* * *
“When I was posted to Brockendorf, Beatrix was working in the garrison as an interpreter. As I had been appointed the garrison liaison officer dealing with the local populace, naturally I saw a great deal of her and one thing led to another. We fell in love but remained discreet about our relationship. Fraternization, as such, with the Germans was no longer forbidden but nor was it exactly encouraged.
“She lived with her grandfather, her mother’s father, here in Wickrath but Beatrix didn’t come from this area. She had been brought up and educated in Berlin where she learned English and only left at the end of the war. As her father held a good position in the SS, the family had been comfortably housed in a flat in Wansee but that was destroyed by a massive bomb in April 1945 which killed her mother. Her father vanished shortly afterwards.
“With her father gone and her mother killed, Beatrix could only come down here and live with her grandfather – a local farmer. Then, in 1948, her father was arrested. Beatrix went up to Hanover to see him one last time before his execution. You could hardly blame her – he was still her father, whatever he had done. I couldn’t allow her to go on her own even though I wasn’t allowed to leave. But I went anyway and that’s when our problems really began.
“An English journalist, rooting about for a good story, got wind of it and we were exposed in a daily newspaper: ‘English Officer falls for Nazi killer’s daughter’. You can just imagine it.
“I was in real trouble. Beatrix resigned from her job in the garrison but, of course, I went on visiting her. We were in love and she couldn’t be blamed for her father’s crimes. An investigation started over my being AWOL and this caused a problem. I was put under mess arrest pending what the authorities intended to do, which might be a reprimand from higher authority or a court martial. Although I continued to use the mess facilities, things were a bit tense. I wasn’t exactly sent to Coventry, but people avoided me all the same. Then a new adjutant arrived, Captain Nathan. By now, it was the Christmas period and he was obliged to remain in the garrison as duty officer. So there were just the two of us in the mess.
“One evening, we started chatting in the bar before dinner. He’d heard that I liked cards, which was true; I’d played poker over the years although never for very high stakes. Anyway, he suggested that we play later on and ask the bar staff to join us in a game of brag after dinner. Gambling wasn’t normally allowed in the mess, certainly not with the other ranks, but it was Christmas and the usual rules were relaxed.
“We ate alone in the dining room and didn’t exchange much conversation – although, at one point, he asked me if I had plans to marry. Realizing he must have known about Beatrix, I became a bit defensive and blurted out that I was going to marry her, come what may, when all the fuss had died down. He didn’t react at all but just stared at me for a while before leaving the room abruptly saying he’d go to fetch some cards.
“After he returned, we went back to the bar and joined the mess staff, a corporal and a lance corporal for a
game. The stakes weren’t very high. A couple of marks initially but, with brag, which is substantially a bluffing game, they soon increased rapidly. We played several rounds before the lance corporal dropped out and, with just the three of us, the game became more competitive. Nathan began to lose. Looking back, I don’t think he was really concentrating to be honest. Sometimes I caught him looking at me in a contemplative sort of way too. I didn’t think much of it at the time but now I suspect he was forming a plan.
“About one in the morning, we packed up for the night and the corporal went to lock up the premises. I’d done quite well – a lot better than Nathan, in fact. Then he said something curious: ‘Enjoy your winnings, Gafford – you may need them more than you think!’
“I didn’t meet Nathan again. He was posted to Berlin in the New Year. Then, in late January, I appeared before my commanding officer on a charge of Conduct to the Prejudice and Good Order and Discipline. It averred that I dishonestly obtained monies from Captain Nathan during the course of a card game by false means, namely by the use of certain playing cards marked by me in advance. I was absolutely astounded by this allegation which obviously had no foundation whatsoever.
“A few days later, papers relating to this charge – I was to be prosecuted for being AWOL as well – were served on me. Nathan had made a statement that I’d provided the cards for the game initially. That, of course, was a damn lie. He went on to say that he had become suspicious of the skill I was showing and, when I went to the lavatory at the end of the evening, he examined the cards. The more valuable ones – kings, queens, and aces were all marked by a thumbnail. He produced the cards as an exhibit: they were of an ordinary kind which anyone could buy at the NAAFI.
“I was astounded. Why would Nathan perjure himself so blatantly? Only later did I learn that his mother’s family – all Polish Jews apparently – had been exterminated at Auschwitz.
“Anyway, a court martial was convened at Brockendorf. The president had formerly sat on a British military tribunal trying war criminals, although not on the one that had dealt with Beatrix’s father, obviously, and was very experienced, so no judge advocate was called for. I represented myself, with the help of a defending officer but it has to be said he didn’t show much enthusiasm for the role.
“At the actual hearing, a problem arose. The Berlin Airlift had just begun and Captain Nathan was now on operational duty, so couldn’t attend. Consequently, I was asked if I would object to his evidence being read. I replied by saying that as it was his word against mine I needed to challenge his evidence. The president said that they would have due regard to that, but the best course was for the hearing to proceed. No-one had any idea when Captain Nathan would be available, after all. So that was that. As a result, I never had the chance to cross-examine him.”
I was horrified.
“You agreed, but that means you never had the opportunity to test his evidence or even whether he looked as if he was telling the truth!”
“Well, the president did say that they would bear all that in mind.”
“Bear it in mind! Is that all? If there’d been a judge advocate officiating he would have declared that a fair trial couldn’t possibly take place. It’s just appalling.”
Gafford sighed.
“Anyway, they found me guilty and dismissed me from the service, with disgrace. I thought that they might confiscate my medal too, but later I was informed I could keep it – once a war hero, always a war hero apparently – but that meant nothing now.”
Sipping his brandy he paused, lost in thought. I was desperate to hear how he came to be awarded the medal in the first place, but did not want to push him too far all at once. As if he knew what I was thinking, he gave a wry smile.
“In for a penny, in for a pound, eh, Mr Judge Advocate – or can we call each other by our first names now? Mine’s Roland, by the way.”
“And I’m Charles. Please tell me more about how you acquired the medal.”
Gafford continued his tale.
* * *
“I was second-in-command of an infantry company at the time of the D-Day invasion in 1944. The regiment were deep in Germany by now and had penetrated the Teutoberg Wald – a forest where we met strong resistance. We were tasked to take a hunting lodge which was supposed to be empty but turned out to be occupied by a German machine gun unit. My captain was blown away right in front of me but I just kept running towards the guns, shouting for my men to follow. My conduct was either brave or foolhardy, depending on your point of view, but I simply did what my training had prepared me for. Anyway I made it, as did two of my men. It turned out that the Germans were on the verge of running out of ammunition and when they did they surrendered immediately, meek as lambs. I captured five soldiers, including a sergeant – not a bad haul, eh?”
His voice had descended to a husky whisper by now. I stood up and walked to a window which looked out on a well-kept garden. How could I, with no war experience, make any appropriate comment?
“Do you mind if I speak professionally for a moment – about the trial, I mean?”
Gafford cleared his throat.
“That’s why you came, isn’t it? Although I don’t see how anything can be done about it now.”
“Well, for a start did you take the matter up – by way of appeal, I mean – with the army chain of command?”
Gafford shook his head.
“To be honest with you, I was glad to be out of the army. All I could think about was Beatrix and being able to see her again. And they hadn’t locked me up, either. Beatrix and I were married soon after, taking over the farm when her grandfather died. I never went back to the garrison, or returned to England for that matter, opting for German nationality a few years later. Farming was hard work and I never had time to brood. When we packed that up, I thought that gardening might have the same effect, but I was wrong; it began to play on my mind once again. Getting rid of the medal was one way of attempting to dispel the memory. Quite frankly, your phone call didn’t assist that process much either – although when I told Beatrix about it, she said your intentions were honourable.”
Suddenly, I felt ashamed. What right did I have to upset this man over something which, after all, wasn’t my business?
Gafford gave me a wry smile and said, “I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry. Perhaps it’s not such a bad thing to have got it off my chest after all these years.”
I nodded, my lawyer’s mind going off on another tack.
“Captain Nathan – do you know what happened to him?”
“Ah well, that’s the irony. Nathan became a hero himself shortly afterwards. During the lift, he was engaged in unloading cargoes at Gatow Airport in Berlin and worked himself literally into the ground, dying of a heart attack whilst taking a nap between flights. So even if his conscience had ever got the better of him, it’s too late.”
I nodded, lost in thought, contemplating the records of the old cases which I had been examining. Before the days of verbatim court recorders, anything that occurred at court martial proceedings was supposed to be carefully annotated in handwriting on the papers themselves. How had such a vital issue in the case been recorded on them, I wondered.
“There’s one thing, at least, I can do and that’s search for the original record of proceedings. Who knows, they might still be in Brockendorf itself, for all we know!”
“But even if you manage to do that, what then?”
“Attempt to have the whole thing reviewed again, fresh information having come to light. Leave it with me, Roland, for a day or so...”
Eleven
My initial problem was that officially no files were kept in Brockendorf. All court martial sets of proceedings were sent back and retained in London until a final legal review took place, as I already knew from my previous conversation with Peascod.
“What happens to the proceedings when the London office has finally finished with them?” I asked Margery, after I explained what I was lookin
g for.
“Filed away in a remote government archive, I should imagine. Thinking about it though, those proceedings might still be here somewhere. At one time, when the British Army here was much larger, final legal reviews did take place in Brockendorf itself, and I’ve seen a pile of old stuff stored in one of the cellars under the Fortress dating back to the time when the office was located there.”
“Can you arrange access for me?”
“Just give me a few minutes over the phone. There should be no problem in getting you down there.”
Nor was there as it turned out and eventually, after rummaging through bundles of papers in the dank cellars of the Fortress, I located the relevant record of proceedings, written in manuscript. Turning over the yellowing pages, I came across this entry which followed the formal record:
‘Captain Edward Nathan’s statement is read to the court in his absence. There are no other witnesses for the prosecution.’
Nothing else: no indication that Lieutenant Gafford had agreed or the reason the witness couldn’t attend in the first place. On the face of it, the proceedings were irregular just because of that and I was convinced that the fairness of the trial itself had been compromised. The Judge Advocate General would have reviewed the proceedings and given advice as to their legality. What comment had he made on these matters? Under the Army Acts, only after receiving such advice could a senior officer confirm the proceedings as being legally in order.
The advice document was always attached to the top of the set of proceedings, which were bound up like a book. Sure enough, the relevant minutes were there and I read through them quickly. In the event, the conclusions were clear enough:
‘It is a matter of regret, but due to the lack of any explanation as to why Captain Nathan did not give evidence before the court in person you may share my view that confirmation is not desirable in this case.’
Wig Betrayed Page 7
