Betrayed: Secrecy, Lies, and Consequences

by Frederic Martini

  TRANSPORT AND ARRIVAL

  AT THE BUCHENWALD TRAIN STATION, after being counted one last time, Fred was loaded into a boxcar by guards wearing Luftwaffe uniforms. It was a relief to be in the custody of military personnel whose uniform insignia did not include silver skulls. Several Red Cross parcels were handed out for the men to share. It was the first food parcel Fred had seen since his August boxcar ride. His opinion as to the quality of the contents had gone up considerably over the interim.

  The boxcars were not overcrowded — only 35-40 men per car — so Fred could sit down or even lie down and sleep. But it was too cold for that. There was no heat in the cars, and his clothes were soaked from walking in the rain. Once the train started moving, a wet wind blew in through the ventilation openings, chilling him further. It was a long day and an even longer night, with the men huddled together for warmth.

  The train ran northeast from Weimar through Neustadt and Jena, then continued on through Gera, Dresden, Gorlitz, and finally to Sagan [postwar Zagan], Poland. The trip, which took two days to complete, was largely uneventful. The guards seemed relaxed, and they seemed startled and a bit confused every time Fred or another airman tensed at their approach or flinched when they made sudden moves. When the train finally stopped at a siding and the doors were opened, Fred had a terrifying flashback to his arrival at Buchenwald, and he half-expected to be greeted by angry SS guards and snarling dogs. But the scene before him was quiet and orderly. They were at Sagan station, an imposing building with a clocktower that looked like it belonged in a fairy tale.

  Slowly, the men climbed down from the boxcars, their limbs aching and their strength limited. The weather had warmed a bit, but it was still overcast and gray. There was a bit of confusion and delay as they were organized into ragged columns. They were then escorted away from the station along a main road that led to a smaller, unpaved road that went through a dense forest, the pine trees crowding in from either side. For anyone else, it would have been a simple stroll, but it was slow going for the starved airmen, and an endurance test for Fred. After a half-mile or so, the road swung to the right and entered an area cleared of vegetation. Ahead, Fred could see the corner of a barbed wire enclosure consisting of double fences strung between sturdy guard towers. The airmen turned left and went through the main gate, which had a particularly prominent tower, behind which a huge Nazi flag fluttered in the wind.

  The plaque at the gate informed Fred that they were entering Stalag Luft III.88 He could see that it was a large facility, but only later would he learn that it covered nearly 60 acres and was subdivided into five separate compounds.

  Arrival processing was done in the Vorlager (“before-camp”), a fenced enclosure near the road. The vorlager contained the administration offices, a POW prison, a bath house, a small hospital building, and various outbuildings for storing food and other supplies. The men were taken into the administration building in batches. While Fred was being processed, one of the prisoners in the adjacent Center Compound took a few grainy black and white photos of the Buchenwald airmen with a clandestine camera.

  Inside the administration building, Fred was given a complete set of clean clothing, including hightop shoes and a warm winter “great coat,” plus a towel and even a toothbrush. Compared to Buchenwald, Stalag Luft III was the lap of luxury. He was next taken to the shower block, where he took a long hot shower with plenty of fragrant Camay soap. After he was deloused, he was given the OK to don his new uniform. It felt so good to be clean, dry, and warm, that Fred could hardly believe he wasn’t dreaming.

  For their part, the Luftwaffe staff were taken aback by the shocking physical condition of these prisoners, who had ulcerated sores all over their bodies. Fred looked like a walking skeleton. But what they found more disconcerting was that every time a uniformed guard approached, Fred would reflexively cower and then freeze, his eyes on the ground. As a group, the new arrivals acted like dogs that had been starved and beaten to break their spirits. It was embarrassing for the staff to witness what those SS fanatics had done to them.

  Once dressed in his new clothes, Fred’s photo was taken for a POW ID card. The photo was printed on the spot, and the ID card filled out with personal information, camp identification number, and barracks assignment. He was also given a square metal ID tag on a chain, to be worn like dog tags, before being sent outside to wait for the rest of the group to complete processing. As he compared notes with other airmen, he realized that they were being split up. The camp was near capacity, and the new arrivals were randomly assigned to compounds that were generally organized by nationality.

  After being part of a cohesive group for so long, the impending separation came as a bit of a shock. Fred was dismayed to learn that Sam was assigned to a different compound.89 Fred, Ed Ritter, Paul Wilson, and 22 other sergeants90 were assigned to South Compound, where the proportion of American noncoms was greatest. It was expected that they would serve as orderlies to the officers, and do manual labor as required.91 Fred joined the cluster of men headed for South Compound, and with a loose escort of Luftwaffe guards, they left the vorlager through the main gate.

  They turned left and walked along the main road, with the forest 150’ to their right and a complex of buildings to their left. Fred could tell that the buildings were not part of the camp — there were no guards or fences. They were in fact the buildings of the German lager, where the Luftwaffe guards and staff resided. As they reached the end of that complex, they turned left onto a small access road that divided the camp.

  Fred then had the German lager to his left and the coiled wire fencing of North Compound to his right. North Compound looked relatively clean and tidy, especially as compared to Buchenwald, and Fred was relieved to find that he could see no bodies stacked around the buildings. But could it mean that the Luftwaffe was more efficient at cleanup than the SS? There was plenty of dust in the air, but no ash, and no stench of corruption. Yet Fred remained apprehensive. He looked for a crematorium, or any building with a suspicious smokestack, but he didn’t see one. The general appearance of the entire camp was stark, as if the vegetation had been stripped away, leaving only the bare, dry ground. Fred thought it looked like the surface of the moon.

  As Fred continued along the fenceline, he passed several guard towers, each with mounted machine guns and floodlights capable of sweeping a large area. The barricade fence consisted of heavy spools of barbed wire strung along posts between these towers. Ahead, they could see a spot where the fence turned toward them, and at the inner corner of that angle was another gate and guardhouse. The guards turned off the road and led them through the double gate and into South Compound. Fred experienced a surge of panic when he saw that the guards at the gate were holding the leashes of large German shepherds. The dogs looked much like those at Buchenwald, and they had the same attitude. They stood at the limits of their leashes, fully alert, watching every move of the prisoners as they walked by. The guards took no notice as the entire group of airmen recoiled and then crowded together to get as far from the dogs as possible.

  When they entered the compound, the group was met by a small group of USAAF officers and NCOs who escorted them along a well-worn track toward another elaborate entry gate. As they cleared the gateway, the Buchenwald airmen walked through a gauntlet of curious onlookers.

  It was a standing joke among the prisoners in Stalag Luft III that new arrivals in South Compound were always shocked at the hungry, disheveled, and unmilitary appearance of the long-term prisoners. That was hardly the case with this particular batch of arriving airmen — Fred and his colleagues were amazed at how clean and healthy the POWs looked. It had been two months since Fred had seen fellow prisoners who weren’t walking skeletons. Fred could feel everyone staring at him as he walked past.92

  As at Buchenwald, the perimeter of the compound was marked by a wooden rail 33’ from the double fencing. Fred knew what would happen if anyone stepped over that rail. The perimeter just inside the rail was worn
flat by heavy foot-traffic. The path, known as the circuit, was a popular walking route that the POWs used to keep in shape.

  Fred’s group soon turned right and continued to a supply station where Fred received a cup, a bowl, and a knife-fork-spoon set with embossed swastikas on the handles. Properly equipped, they were then taken to the cookhouse where their fellow POWs had been busy getting some hot coffee and hot soup ready for them. They were all starving, and the soup was considerably tastier and richer than the watery soup they had been given at Buchenwald.

  ORIENTATION

  Word had spread quickly that the new arrivals looked like they could use a good feed, and the soup was followed by a full meal that had been hastily created from donations provided by POWs who had stashed items from Red Cross parcels. Fred was tired and listless, and when he tried to eat real food, he became full almost immediately. It would clearly be a while before his shrunken stomach would adapt to the prospect of larger daily portions. Their fellow POWs also provided vitamin pills galore, as the new guys looked like they needed them.

  As the men finished their meals, they were shown the latrine, which was an enclosed trench with seating for 15, before being escorted to another building to pick up a sheet, two thin blankets, a mattress cover filled with wood shavings,93 a small towel, and a pillow stuffed with straw. They were then taken to their assigned barracks.

  There were 14 barracks in South Compound. Space was at a premium, so the sergeants were scattered across the compound. Groups of five were sent to barracks 125 and 124, groups of four went to barracks 127 and 132, a group of three was directed to barracks 133, and pairs were sent to barracks 130 and 131.

  Fred was in a group of four. He, Ed Ritter, Stan Paxton, and Roy Horrigan were assigned to barracks 127. They found the barracks and entered to find a long central corridor with bunkrooms on either side. There were fifteen large rooms and a few smaller ones. Senior officers and clergy got the small single or double rooms, which were near the entry doors, while junior officers and enlisted personnel were assigned to the larger bunk rooms. Fred, Ed, and Stan went to Room 5 and Roy to room 15. Their room was designed to hold up to 15 men, with berthing in wooden bunks stacked three-high. Fred was delighted that he would not have to share the bunk with three other POWs!

  Fred, Ed, and Stan found empty bunks and set their mattresses and pillows on them. Then they walked through the barracks to sort out what was where. Near the entrance was a small bathroom with two toilets for use at night, when the grounds outside were off limits and patrolled by sentry dogs running loose. The thought of encountering those dogs in the dark made Fred’s blood run cold. There was also a separate washroom with multiple sinks, and a small kitchen area with a coal stove that provided heat as well as a cooking surface.

  As they were nosing around, other men who happened to be in the building politely said hello, and introduced themselves. The introductions were wary, and the mood reserved. There were rumors that Gestapo and Abwehr agents were posing as airmen to infiltrate POW camps, gather intelligence, and foil escape attempts. New arrivals were never fully trusted until they were either vouched for by someone already in the camp or cleared by the officers who conducted arrival interviews.

  While they were looking at the barracks kitchen, they were given a brief overview of how meals worked. The Germans provided only a bare minimum, giving each man a loaf of bread, 4-8 oz. of ersatz margarine, 2 turnips, and 4 oz. of sauerkraut per week. When available, each POW also got three potatoes per day, and intermittently the barracks might receive 2-3 pounds of horsemeat each week. Even on a good week, this was far below what was necessary to sustain the prisoners, and their nutrition relied on the food parcels packaged and shipped by the International Red Cross. The Germans warehoused parcels from the Swiss, American, and British Red Cross. The American parcels were considered to be the best, as they contained both chocolate and instant coffee.

  Each Red Cross parcel was designed to sustain a single prisoner for one week. Thousands of the parcels were shipped to the Germans, but they doled them out sparingly. The stated goal was an allocation of 1,928 calories per day per man, roughly 200 calories below what an average young man with a sedentary lifestyle would require. The attitudes and policies of their German captors had changed after a mass escape attempt earlier that year. Food tins were punctured before the parcels were distributed, to prevent storage as escape supplies, and the boxes and empty cans had to be returned before new boxes were distributed. Because Allied air strikes interrupted supply lines, by the time the Buchenwald airmen arrived, the rations had been cut in half, and each Red Cross parcel had to last two men a week.

  Appell was called late in the day. With some trepidation and occasional physical support, Fred joined the stream of prisoners headed to the appellplatz, located near the cookhouse. It was a very different experience than what he had come to expect. The rows of airmen formed a large square around the perimeter of the grounds, facing inward, while the guards performed their count. Try as he might, Fred could not keep from cringing away from the guards as they approached to do the counting. By the time they had passed, his heart was racing, his palms were sweating, and his legs were quivering. Fortunately, the entire operation seldom lasted more than an hour unless the count was off.94 When appell was done, Fred headed directly back to his bunk and fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Fred’s slumber was brief, for he was awakened in the pre-dawn hours by vague memories of a nightmare and a stabbing pain in his lower abdomen. The pain continued, and he became feverish and disoriented, unable to climb out of bed. Ed Ritter, who had seen Fred in a similar state at Buchenwald, went to an officer for help. To signal a medical emergency, a red light outside the barracks was turned on to summon a guard. After a quick consult at the barracks block, Fred was transported by stretcher to the medical room at the north end of the cookhouse. The room was staffed by Capt. Heston C. Daniel, with Lts. Luther Cox and “BJ” Lovin assisting. It was basically a first aid clinic. Serious illnesses could theoretically be transferred to the main hospital, but that facility was grossly overcrowded and undermanned. The preliminary diagnosis made on Fred’s arrival was acute appendicitis, but the camp aid station was not equipped for major surgery. So while the staff worked out the mechanics of transfer to the main hospital, often a lengthy and difficult process, Fred was given painkillers and his condition monitored. At the same time, he was given a physical exam, and his infected insect bites and the ulcers on his feet were treated with a salve containing sulfonamides.

  By the end of Fred’s second day in the clinic, the pain was lessening, and on the third day, Fred was able to sit up and take some soup. That day, he was interviewed by Lt. Ewell McCright, who had been directed by Lieutenant Colonel (LtC.)95 A. P. Clark to keep a secret journal for South Compound. In his journal, McCright recorded information about each new arrival to the compound. He carefully recorded each airman’s name, rank, serial number, home address, birth date, blood type, religion, military unit, POW number, date shot down, injuries sustained, where and how captured, serial number of plane, and where held prior to arrival at Stalag Luft III. By writing clear but almost microscopic letters, he fit all this information into four small ledgers that he could conceal easily. The information was considered Top Secret, and McCright interviewed individual airmen privately. Fred was the eighth of the Buchenwald airmen to be interviewed by Lt. McCright.

  Because the crisis had passed, the request for Fred’s hospital transfer was canceled, and he returned to barracks 127 the next day. By the time Fred returned to his barracks room, things were more relaxed, as Ed and Stan had been cleared by the security panel chaired by LtC. Clark. Clark, who had been struck by the appearance of the new arrivals, wanted to get first hand information on their experiences. Fred had his session that afternoon. He provided the basic information and then answered specific questions about his capture, the boxcar ride from Paris, and Buchenwald.

  As he answered the questions, Fred became increasin
gly agitated, and his heart was pounding. At one point, he thought he saw one of the officers glance at another with a skeptical expression, and Fred was suddenly furious, coming partway out of his seat. Trembling with rage, he demanded to know if they thought he was making his story up. LtC. Clark assured him that they were taking him seriously, but that what he was describing was so bizarre and disconnected from their POW experiences that it was difficult to accept. His face flushed, Fred took some deep breaths and settled back into his chair.

  LtC. Clark then cautioned Fred against telling other POWs about his experiences in Buchenwald in any detail. Relations with the Germans were very strained, and the POWs were near the boiling point. Following the “Great Escape” months earlier, the Gestapo had executed 50 recaptured RAF prisoners from North Compound.96 The prisoners at Stalag Luft III were furious, and the guards cracked down, fearing an uprising. If Fred’s experiences became widely known, nothing good would come of it. If the stories were believed, things could quickly get out of hand. Clark instructed the other members of the interview team to be equally careful, and he told no one other than Colonel Charles “Rojo” Goodrich, the Senior American Officer (SAO) in South Compound.97

  Fred had a lot to think about when he returned to his barracks. Ultimately he decided that he would not discuss anything about Buchenwald with anyone who had not been there. When he broached the subject with Ed Ritter and Stan Paxton, he found that they had come to the same conclusion independently.

  SETTLING IN

  Donated vitamin pills were combined with food from the emergency caches of his fellow prisoners and distributed to any of the airmen who, like Fred, were having trouble regaining their strength. For the first week, Fred was too weak to eat more than a token amount. It was as if the relief of his deliverance had used the last of his energy reserves.