ESCAPE
When Stan awoke the next morning Sim was gone from his bunk. He sat up
quickly, then lay back and let his stiff, sore muscles relax. There was
no hurry. He was not going any place that day, perhaps not for a long
time. Lying there he listened to O'Malley's deep snores and thought back
over the events of the past few hours.
Those events had happened so swiftly and so explosively that they seemed
like the shadowy memory of a nightmare. He recalled that he had not
asked O'Malley how he had been captured. He had just taken it for
granted his pal had been through an experience the same as his own. It
was odd, too, the way things fitted together. The oddest of all was
finding Sim Jones billeted in the same prison.
A knock sounded upon the door. "Come in," Stan called.
O'Malley sat up in bed suddenly, pawing the blankets away from his
shoulders. He stared around the room, then scowled. The door opened and
a Nazi corporal entered.
"Heil Hitler!" he said very loudly and clicked his heels together.
"Good morning," Stan greeted.
O'Malley just glared at the corporal.
"I am Hans." The Nazi looked behind him, sticking his head out so that
he could see up and down the hall. He closed the door. "It is orders of
Herr General that prisoners be up and taking exercises by seven each
morning. I have let you sleep because you were very tired."
"That was nice of you," Stan said.
"I am goot to prisoners," Hans said.
Stan swung his feet to the floor. He got out of bed and walked across
the room. Flipping a picture of Hitler aside, he exposed the microphone
in the wall. Hans rolled his eyes and clicked his heels.
"Heil Hitler!" he almost shouted. "Tomorrow you will get out of bed and
be down in the yard by seven."
Stan grinned. He reached up and disconnected the wire leading to the
instrument.
"They listen all the time," Hans said. "They watch everyone. There is
more Gestapo than guards."
"Nice country to live in," Stan remarked.
O'Malley laughed and pulled the blankets up around his chin.
"Sure, an' it needs a bit o' cleaning up," he said.
Hans looked at him nervously. "You think the British and Americans come
soon?" he asked.
"If they're later than next week, I'll be after speakin' to a few
generals harsh-like," O'Malley answered.
"Perhaps not next week but soon," Stan said.
"I am not a party member. I will go back to my little farm near Pilsen,"
Hans said, "if it is permitted."
"It could be fixed that way," Stan said and smiled. "Silence is golden,
but too much of it might make the Gestapo boys suspicious." He walked
to the picture of Hitler and connected the microphone again.
"You will report at once for mess. Heil Hitler!" Hans clicked his heels
and did an about-face. He moved out of the room almost goose-stepping.
Stan grinned after him.
"Get up, you bum," he called to O'Malley.
O'Malley got out of bed and began dressing. Within ten minutes they were
in the hall. As they walked down it they passed no less than three
pictures of Hitler hanging on the walls. O'Malley moved every one of
them and peered behind it.
"I don't like the scenery here," he grumbled.
The mess was a large room which once had been a living room and dining
room combined. There were twenty prisoners, mostly R.A.F. men, all of
officer's rank. They looked bored and listless, but they greeted the new
arrivals with friendly interest. Sim was seated at the table. He looked
up and nodded.
Breakfast was not bad and the boys ate everything set before them. After
breakfast the men went out into the yard. The sun was shining and the
air was warm, but there was a feel of winter in the wind which blew over
the high wall.
Stan and O'Malley sat down on a bench with Sim. The other men busied
themselves with handball and quoits. Sim bent down and traced a line
with a stick in the dirt.
"I have everything lined up. We get away tonight. A British colonel is
giving a lecture in the big room at nine tonight. I have fixed the
checker. We'll get away while that is on." Sim did not look up.
"Hans is the checker?" O'Malley asked.
"Yes."
"Sure this isn't a trap? Things have been working too good around here,"
Stan said.
"This will not be easy," Sim answered in a low voice. "The chances are
about even we'll be shot before we get clear of the wire and the guard
lines. These guards do not shout at you, they shoot and then yell." Sim
laughed shortly. "But I'd rather be shot than rot here."
"Sure, an' that's me, too," O'Malley agreed.
"We'll be ready," Stan answered.
"You cannot take anything with you," Sim warned. "Now we have to break
up. The guards are watching us." He got to his feet and walked away.
"I think he's acting nuts for the benefit of the guards," O'Malley said.
"If it turns out he really is nuts, we may find ourselves messed up with
lead," Stan answered. He got up and walked over to where the R.A.F. boys
were pitching quoits.
"Care to get in?" a captain asked him.
"Thanks, I'll have a try," Stan answered.
O'Malley stretched out on the bench and went to sleep. He slept through
until lunch call was sounded. Stan mixed with the British officers and
learned what he could about conditions. He got their names so he could
report regarding them if he did get away.
The afternoon dragged away and mess call sounded after one of the R.A.F.
officers had put the men through a stiff drill and a series of
sitting-up exercises. After mess Stan and O'Malley went to their room.
Sim was not there.
"I didn't see Sim around the mess when we left, wonder where he went?"
Stan whispered.
"You worry too much about him," O'Malley answered. "I bet he's snoopin'
around gettin' set to get us away."
Stan stretched out on his bunk. They waited for Sim to show up, but he
did not come to the room. At eight o'clock Stan began to squirm.
"They've probably nabbed him," he said sourly.
"Sure, an' I'll start working on Hans if they have."
They had been speaking in very low tones. Now Stan spoke louder. "Better
be getting ready to go to that lecture."
"Sure," O'Malley agreed.
The boys settled down to wait. O'Malley kept looking at his wrist watch.
Stan lay with his eyes closed. He was checking every angle of the
strange business. As near as he could gather, things were going badly in
Germany. The big crack-up might be near at hand.
At five minutes to nine they heard steps in the hall. They passed down
the stairs. Boys from the rooms along the hallway were going to the
lecture. Stan got up and disconnected the microphone. O'Malley was
pacing about like a caged lion. They heard single footsteps and there
was a rap on the door. It opened and Hans stood there.
"I am glad you have not yet gone to the lecture," he said. "Herr General
wishes to speak to you. You will come with me."
Stan looked at O'Malley and O'Malley looked at Stan. Stan spoke
smoothly.
"Couldn't we see the general after the lecture? We'd like very much to
hear the colonel."
"It will not wait. Herr General is a very impatient man."
There was nothing to do but go with Hans. Stan and O'Malley walked along
the hallway with the corporal, keeping a sharp watch for Sim. They did
not see him in the hallway or downstairs. Hans took them past the guards
at the outer garden gate and across the street to another house. In a
small hall room he nodded toward chairs.
"You will be called," he said, then turned and hurried away.
The outer door was open and the boys could see two sentries standing on
the front porch.
"We have to get out o' here," O'Malley said.
"Not a chance. There's no window and those two guards would see us
before we got within ten feet of them," Stan answered. "It's just a case
of sitting tight and hoping Sim waits for us."
Near where they were sitting a door opened into another room. Stan
leaned over and looked at the door. It was not latched firmly and was
open about a half inch. He could hear men talking in the other room.
They were speaking in German.
"You understand German. Listen to what they are saying," Stan whispered.
O'Malley moved closer and listened. The men seemed to be arguing hotly.
Every once in a while one voice would be raised in anger. There were
three men in the room. O'Malley edged the door open a bit more and
peeped into the room.
After a bit he straightened and grinned at Stan. "Sure, an' the general
is eatin' the tails off his staff. Some of 'em seem to think the war is
lost. They been tellin' him the German people are demandin' peace at any
price. I figure he's goin' to have one o' them shot."
At that moment an orderly came rushing out of the office. He charged
past the boys without seeming to see them, and rushed out of the
building.
"The general says if this leaks out, the Allies will invade at once.
He's sure mad." O'Malley laughed softly.
A few minutes passed and the orderly returned with a squad of armed
soldiers led by a lieutenant. They stomped past the boys and into the
office. When they came out they were marching a captain and a major
before them.
Five more minutes passed and the orderly came out. He seemed much
agitated.
"You will come now," he said in husky English.
The boys followed him into the office. Herr General was a burly fellow
with a bald head and a narrow chest. He had a monocle screwed into one
eye which made him look fierce and tough. He glared at the boys, then
snapped an order to the orderly. The man scurried away.
"Come up to my desk, you," the general snarled.
The boys moved up and stood waiting.
"I have checked the answers you gave to questions asked you when you
were captured. You said an invasion will come at once. Why did you say
that?"
Stan stared at the officer. "We didn't say any such thing," he answered
evenly. He decided that the general had heard some of their conversation
over the listening device.
"Sure, an' you got big ears, General," O'Malley said.
Stan kicked him on the shin. The general jumped and puffed out his
chest. He fixed O'Malley with a cold glare.
"Pig! Fool! Keep a civil tongue in your head or you will regret it
much."
"If you brought us here to get information, you will be disappointed,
General," Stan said. "We will not talk."
"I brought you here to tell you that we intend to make you talk," the
general barked. "I merely wished to warn you and then to let you have a
little time to think it over."
"We are prisoners of war," Stan reminded him.
"The code provides for disciplining prisoners of war. We have some very
effective methods. You will talk and be glad to. Now get out."
Stan and O'Malley turned toward the door. Two armed men stood waiting
for them. They marched out with the guards close behind them.
"Sure, an' this is a nice mess," O'Malley grumbled.
"Could be worse," Stan said.
The guards left them after passing them into the yard of their house.
They headed for their room. Passing through the outer hall, they saw
that the lecture was still going on in the living room. They went up the
stairs.
Stan opened the door and O'Malley shoved into the room close behind him.
They stood looking at Sim's bunk. The straw ticking of the mattress had
been slit open and some of the straw was scattered on the floor. Sim was
not in the room. Stan walked over to a little table. One small light
bulb was flooding the room with light.
"He was here and left in a hurry. He didn't turn off the light."
"I'm gettin' out o' here," O'Malley growled.
"Sit down. We're staying," Stan said sharply. He pulled off his coat and
tossed it across his bunk, then he seated himself on the foot of his
bed.
"We're going to get it in the neck, anyway," O'Malley scowled.
"Do you know where we are, in what part of Germany?"
"Somewhere near Berlin," O'Malley said.
"Sure, but where? We need more dope on the grounds and on the country
around us. We wouldn't get a mile from this prison farm if we did break
out."
O'Malley sat down on his bed. "Sure, you're right. We should have had
Sim tell us something about this deal."
"Now that you mention it, Sim never told us anything," Stan said.
"Probably didn't know anything," O'Malley growled.
They sat looking at each other, waiting, trying to discover some lead
that might help them. Finally Stan said:
"We'll have to clean up that straw and fix Sim's bed before anyone comes
in here snooping around."
"Yeah," O'Malley said but he did not move.