Liberated

by Steve Anderson

  The wine in me wanted me to shout at him: There aren’t any, you overcooked noodle, I told you that. Then again, maybe Membre knew that—and saw I had no chance. So, I leveled my shoulders and said: “Fine. Sure. I’ll get it licked. And, what about Uli Winkl?”

  The baron said, “He will remain Temporary Police Chief—”

  “Not talking to you, see, so can it. Got no right snaking your way in like this.”

  The baron sighed. Sipped wine.

  “In point of fact, this was my doing, and I’m simply acting on policy,” the major said, doing his best to regain his bland MG commander voice. “What I was trying to tell you. He’s the kind of man Germany will need.”

  As the major spoke, I found myself feeling my way back to the chair. That heat had drained from my neck, chest. Despite the booze, smoke and disgust, a cool crisp bite of clarity—of reality—had registered deep within my brain. A local like Winkl could only help me so much, and getting Major Membre on the level was a dud. As is, they had me licked.

  Colonel Spanner was the only man who might help me. I simply had not been thinking big enough.

  Improvise when required, that was the drill. So play it cool, Harry.

  “Pardon me. All right? I guess I’m just a slow learner,” I said. I took Brigitta by the hand, leading her to the doorway, Brigitta stroking my hair and neck and dancing around me. “Well, then, thanks for the hospitality, Gentleman.” I grabbed a bottle of wine, and me and my very own Victory girl were out the door before Heimgau’s very own major baron duo could honor me again.

  “You know what we got here, doll?” I said to Brigitta in English. “Too many chiefs and not enough Indians, that’s what.”

  Six

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, a cigar-shaped US Army sedan without markings had parked outside the county courthouse near Cathedral Square. Sergeant Horton leaned against the car, smothering the front fender with his giant frame and chewing on a stick of sausage jerky, its sweet earthy tang piercing the air. So busy chewing that he forgot to stand straight or salute, again. “Cap’n,” he said.

  “Afternoon. Colonel Spanner, that his vehicle? I need to see him. Only take a minute. Do I have to tell you it’s an order?”

  Horton’s brow folded into fat strips. “Nah.” He led me inside the courthouse to a long, corridor-like room so dim we had to squint. The blinds were drawn, leaving only thin lines of daylight. Horton left and shut the door behind him. Letting my eyes adjust, I made out polished dark wood walls and bookshelves and smelled rich old leather. Other details caught my eye. Bullet holes riddled the shelves, leaving splinters and stain peelings. On the farthest wall hung a black flag bearing a Nazi swastika eagle in white. Below the flag, a figure sat at a broad desk.

  “That you, Colonel, sir?”

  “It is. Captain Kaspar. Get on over here, take a seat.”

  “Yes, sir.” I found a leather chair before the desk. “Why are you sitting in the dark, sir?”

  Colonel Spanner didn’t answer. I guessed this building didn’t have power back yet. In the near darkness, Spanner’s face looked less ruddy and firmer, like marble. He said: “First off, just what is this Nazi Justice flag doing here?”

  “Winkl must have missed it, sir, he’s …”

  “He’s your police chief. Used to be Hausmeister.”

  “Right, I didn’t have a choice there. Had few options.”

  “I have no problem with that. I’m not questioning your efforts.”

  “No, sir, of course not.” My chest had tightened. I took a deep breath. “Still, it is my fault—the flag I mean. I should’ve done a walk-through here. My responsibility. We don’t have a legal MGO here, so I’d be the closest thing.”

  “That’s fine.” On a chair stood a battered brown Army briefcase, like mine but aged a hundred years, it seemed, the leather cracked and stained. On the desktop lay a few plain tan folders, closed. Spanner touched one. “Now, I took a little tour around town today. Let me stress one thing. Appearances are key, to the locals and to the brass hats in Frankfurt. I cannot be clearer about that. The last thing we want is Investigations Division crawling down here, sniffing around, believe you me. Because I will be right behind them. Might even be in front of them, and you really don’t want that.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  Spanner stared as if waiting for me to continue. In that moment, I entertained the hunch that he really had come here just for me, for my sake.

  So I added: “By the way, have you had the pleasure of meeting Major Membre?”

  A smile spread across Spanner’s face. “You want my reckoning of the man, don’t you? All I can say is, the man has plenty to learn. Eager though, in his way. He tried to give me a bottle of absinthe of all things. Boy, I hadn’t seen that old rot since my journeys into the bordellos of New Orleans. But, that’s not what you mean.”

  “No.”

  “Those corpses you saw. You want to know what happened here.”

  “Yes.”

  The colonel strode the length of the room. He drew all the blinds open, and I had to squint again. The light came harsh and uniform, reflecting the vast gray wall of the cathedral that blocked all other views. Silhouettes of gargoyles loomed from gutters above, their tongues wagging and their wings sharp against the sky. “And you deserve to know. You do alone,” Spanner said. He spoke from the window, his upper body also set in silhouette, like some ancient bust: “You have to understand how it was, before. In the chaos of war. When I rolled in a couple weeks ago, things were far amiss here. Among the locals, there was a storm brewing about how to deal with the arrival of the United States Army. The SS troops stationed here wanted a last stand, but some locals turned rebel. They opposed it. About time for such an uprising, wasn’t it?”

  I smirked. “About ten years too late.”

  “Yes. So these local Rebs go knock off a couple top local Nazis. Send the rest fleeing. Secure the post office, take City Hall, this courthouse here. Meantime the SS troops, seeing the writing on the wall, are splitting up over what to do. Some steel themselves for a shootout while others go and get smart and think about what comes next.” As he spoke, Spanner’s accent turned friendlier. He was a family counselor, the country doctor. “Don’t have to tell ya, things were getting dicey. The smart SS officers, they don’t want to see a nice ole place like this Heimgau destroyed over a war that’s been long decided. They do win out. They keep about half their men. The other half head for the hills and who knows where. Now the smart SS hold the town so they can surrender it peaceably.”

  “To you.”

  “I was here. Advance team. There was no one else. But I’m in a bind. Our forward combat units had skipped Heimgau altogether. I’m Counter Intelligence. We’re squad strength at best. How do I keep order?”

  “These enemy troops. The ‘smart’ SS, as you called them.”

  “Only answer. Way I figure it, situation like this, there’s your good krauts and there’s the bad-uns. Good krauts being the smart ones.”

  I only nodded. The colonel had deployed enemy troops to keep order, and that was supposed to be okay. Okey, I told myself. The colonel had tried to warn me some things would never make sense in peace.

  The colonel sighed. “So, these SS, they even provided valuable intelligence. Grand ole dogfaces, some of these SS. They’d served in the East, you see, against the Russkies. That’s how I won them over too: I promised a new German army would be formed so we could go on to fight the Russkies together.”

  Had he crossed the line? Who was to say I would not have done the same thing? Spanner was waiting, demanding a response. I better not patronize or, worse yet, play the toady. He was expecting me to use my head.

  “They gave you no problems?” I said.

  “Well, now here’s the hard part. I did indeed hear about the SS killing a few civs.”

  “So the bodies I saw were civilians.”

  Spanner, nodding, returned to his chair. “Listen to me. I could not be everywhere at
once. There were shootouts, as you see from these bullet holes here. Other incidents. Up at the castle. Some victims were … left over from before I got here. The pandemonium rattled these poor Heimgauers all to heck.” His eyes had turned a vibrant blue-gray, somber and penitent. “Now, look. The SS must have done the deed, but I was just as responsible, having used some of their kind to keep order. That was my mistake. We make mistakes in war. And I accept it as such. But only unofficially, remember. Only to you.”

  “They were tortured. Those people were tortured. One was a survivor from one of the Nazis’ concentration camps, as far as I could tell.”

  Spanner’s face grew hard. “We—I—didn’t do the work on those bodies.”

  “I didn’t say you did, sir.”

  “No. You did not.” Spanner shook his head, his eyes glazing over. “I’ll have to take back my GIs soon. I have other matters pressing.”

  “We’ll manage.”

  “Fine. Do not forget one thing: This is still my op area. All right? Any other questions?”

  “Yes. One thing I guess I don’t understand. What happened to them?”

  “To whom, son?”

  “The smart SS. Their officers you dealt with. I mean, officially.”

  Spanner stood. He walked across the room, leaned against the windowsill and stared out again. “The day before you found me in Dollendorf, we disarmed them and sent them off to POW camps, the SS officers to VIP camps. Ah, as for any local civilians that bought it? They received a Christian burial. Officially, that is.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  Spanner stared, not blinking. “Tell me about you for a moment. You’re German-born. American citizen?”

  I nodded. “Naturalized. Since I was a kid.”

  “Parents? Other family?”

  “My parents have been stateside for seventeen years. I have an older brother, somewhere.”

  “Doesn’t matter sometimes though, does it? The way people can be back home. The fool hysteria. Every German-American’s one secret code away from manning a spy submarine, about to land storm troopers on the Empire State Building.” Spanner laughed at the thought, warm and fatherly. “You’ve had a tough time back home? Your family?”

  “It’s part of the deal, isn’t it? That’s the way I look at it. Have to look at it. It’s part of the war effort. America must be wary. There might be good reason for clamping down.”

  “Wary, hell. People don’t know because they’ve never been over here. They have never been up on the goddamn line. Clawed their way out of the meat grinder. You haven’t. You don’t fucking know …”

  Spanner stared off, into a dark corner of the room. Something had taken hold of him. I’d heard of this. Some called it the thousand-yard stare, others the gooney-bird look, but there was nothing funny about it. At the front he must have seen things, done things I could never imagine. Things my buddies in the ATSP must have gone through before they bought it.

  “No, sir,” I said. “I could never know.”

  He didn’t seem to hear me. His silence went on so long it was like a racket, a droning, revving engine. I stared into my lap. Then I felt his eyes on me. I looked up.

  He had turned to me, glaring at me. “Listen up, Kaspar. I want you to know I view you as a valuable asset, what you are. It’s not something to be used against you. It can be a plus for you.”

  “I’ve heard that lately.”

  “I’m telling you. You can get things done here. Can’t you? Show them what being an American’s really all about.”

  “I think so.”

  Spanner’s eyes had brightened, which took away some of the ugliness. “So you get your first posting, here. You were meant to be Commanding Officer. But then Major Membre gets the hitch. Pushed his papers, the rich civ come looking for medals.” That was about right on the money, I figured. I nodded along. The colonel’s eyes darkened. “So, you will just have to play things very carefully. With your background, it could still look like you have a grudge or, worse yet, that you’re sympathizing.”

  “I’ve thought about that.”

  “I’m sure you have. Because you’re a smart egg. No bullshit.”

  “I see it like I see it.”

  “We can help each other, down the line. Keep each other informed. I don’t want you to spy for me. This isn’t about latest directives or politics, isn’t combat boys versus the desk brass. I’m talking about a partnership here, one based on bona fide trust.”

  “Trust,” I said and paused as if trying the word out for the first time.

  “Just think of me as a friend outside the rigmarole. Do you hear what I’m saying? You can come straight to me and only me, if you think something’s fishy, and I’ll do my best to fix it. I promise.”

  It was a bargain, if not a gift. Still, I took my time with it because I had to get the most out of this. I shifted in the chair. I looked out the window. Spanner had owned up nobly. At least two of the tortured dead were probably locals, or had been once, and the torture-murderer could still be in town. But, don’t go looking too hell-bent or you could spook the colonel, I told myself. Build up to it, by degrees.

  “There is the population’s meager food supply,” I began. I explained it. Since our detachment had no nutrition officer, I’d gone around Major Membre and written to Frankfurt and then telephoned. But Frankfurt could give nothing, not even new ration tickets—locals were to use their old ones with the swastikas on them. I added, “We also need Red Cross shipments, and a relief team for the refugees and DPs, get the repatriation going.”

  “Heimgau is on a limb. It’s not exactly Munich, Nuremberg. But I’ll do my darnedest.”

  “Great.”

  “Good …” The colonel stared down from the window, arms crossed at his chest.

  “You confessed to me,” I said. “So I’ll confess to you. The major, yes, he is a bad egg.”

  “In what way? You don’t mean his little side business—”

  “No. That goes on. It’s everything else. The reports don’t tell it. Can’t tell it.”

  Spanner moved from the window as if someone could be out there, reading his lips. He spoke lower, the first time I’d heard him do so. “These are serious words, son.”

  “They aim to be. Look, sir, if I may be so bold: You don’t need to cover for the major.”

  Spanner bounded over. “Those are very serious words, those.” His right hand pressed down on the desk, his left hand a fist at his side. His face gone to marble again. As he hovered over me, I could imagine him doing a combat interrogation, and it didn’t feel like a hayride.

  I cleared out the lump in my throat. “They are serious, but I do have to look out for my town. For the detachment. And, so, I have to ask another question. Did you actually see the SS kill those civs? Did you actually see the bodies?”

  Spanner blinked. Consulted the table. “No. No …”

  “Actually know, for certain, who killed them?”

  “Now that you mention it, no.”

  “According to you, the ‘smart,’ cooperating SS were in control by the time those civs got their going over. As far as you could tell. But what I saw, down on that road? Those were fresh corpses, sir. Too new for the shootouts you speak of. Too new for the SS you shipped out to POW camps. But, Major Membre, he was in town at that time. I’m sure of it.”

  Spanner’s knuckles had gone white as he kept pressing into the table, its legs creaking.

  Sure, I had taken a chance. But it had to be done. With the groundwork now set, I said: “The bodies were gone when I came back. Where did they go? Do you know?”

  “No, I don’t know that.”

  “So, you see what I’m getting at. So how can I give them that burial? They might well pop up somewhere else, and that wouldn’t look too good. It’s a delicate calm we got here already, what with the refugees flowing in and the people hungry. People unsure about … our authority.”

  “Right. I see.”

  “Do you know who they were?�
��

  Spanner shook his head. He flashed a wild look. “Tell you what. This is what you’ll do. Keep a wise eye on the major for me. Things get bad enough, I might be able to pull a few strings. You can’t prove what you suspect. Yet. But keep at it. And just remember, you can always come to me, gets too bad here. Like I said.”

  “A partnership. As you said. That’s only why I bring all this up.”

  “If you need me? Always drop a line to my Munich billet. Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten.”

  “The Four Seasons. On the Maximilianstrasse.”

  “Yes. You know it. Good.”

  I rose. We stood face to face, within inches. Spanner placed a hand on my shoulder. “One other thing,” he said. “I’ve heard tell, certain rumors been floating around. Rumors about trains.”

  “Trains? Rumors? Sounds like bunk to me,” I said. “You mean, freight cars, locomotives what? I don’t follow.” I added a smile.

  “As far as you’re concerned. You are a smart man, Captain. Enterprising. And don’t believe I’m not appreciative. Good afternoon.” With that, Spanner gathered up his folders and his beat-up briefcase and he strode off and out, leaving me staring at those bullet holes and that outlawed Nazi justice flag.

  Seven

  I DRAGGED THE BLACK FLAG out front to the cobblestones, clanked open my Zippo, and watched the fabric burn. A couple passing locals smiled, marveling not, I guessed, at yet another swastika getting scorched but rather at the odd sight of an Ami wasting a good war trophy. I did feel a twinge of guilt as I stomped out the smoldering tatters, but it wasn’t the flag on my mind. The truth was, Colonel Spanner had tricked me a little with his offer. Appealed to the tenacity, the ambition in me. Still, who could beat the deal? I got a direct line to an untouchable, can-do benefactor and all for keeping mum about those freight cars that, I had made myself believe, had only held secret documents or weapons parts. And why not? My first best chance to get a leg up had been a dud on arrival. And Major Membre could choke on his glad-handing sales pitch, and the baron as well. Those two were sure to lay eggs, and I wasn’t about to end up just another chicken.