Camp 30 (13 page)

“Correct,” Little Bill said. “But I also need you boys to be aware of the possible consequences of your role. If your mission is discovered, you could be in danger.”

I didn't like the sound of that, but I was hardly surprised. What would the prisoners do to us if they found out what we were up to?

“If you're compromised, it might mean that we'll have to move your family once again,” Little Bill said.

“I hope that doesn't happen,” I admitted.

“It would be unfortunate, but if necessary we will pursue it. There's also one other thing you need to think about. The only people who know about your mission are myself and Bill. Nobody else—not Colonel Armstrong and obviously none of the guards—will be aware of your role.”

“That's probably good,” I said, thinking that the fewer people who knew the better.

“It could be very good or very bad,” Little Bill said. “If the guards catch you passing on information or anything else to the prisoners, you will be seen as traitors.”

“But … but we'd only be doing what you told us to do,” I stammered.

“You would be following my orders,” Little Bill agreed. “But nobody would know that.”

“But wouldn't you tell them then?” I asked. I couldn't believe we'd be left hanging out to dry.

“I'd arrange for you to be released and for your family to be relocated, but nobody would be aware of your true role. To the people of Bowmanville you'd be known as fools, or worse … traitors and collaborators who offered comfort to the enemy.”

“I don't care about other people,” Jack said. “What would our mother know? Would she know the truth?”

“Just as we couldn't allow her to know that you boys were heroes at Camp X, we couldn't let her know of this. We couldn't reveal your true role without risking our security and other critical operations.”

I was prepared for a lot of things. But I was not prepared to have our mother—and our father—think of us as traitors. I'd been faced with death. This seemed so much worse.

“They'd
never
know the truth?” I asked.

“Perhaps, after the war is over. But until then we would have to keep people in the dark.”

“That would be awful … to have people think of us that way,” I said forlornly.

“Yes. Sometimes the truth must be sacrificed,” Little Bill said. “Now, I imagine you boys need time to consider all the factors before you make a decision. I would think nothing less of you if you chose to decline this assignment.”

“No, we don't need to think about it,” Jack said firmly.

“We don't?” I asked.

He shook his head. “First off, we're not going to get caught. And second, if this is what we need to do, if this is our assignment, we'll do it.” Jack turned directly to me. “Do you think our father has any choice when he's sent into battle?”

I looked from Jack to Bill to Little Bill. “We're in,” I said.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“
GOOD AFTERNOON, HANS
,” I said as we walked up to his desk.

He looked up from the work spread out before him. He always seemed to be working.

“Good afternoon, boys. You are right here on the dot … Is that right … the dot? Does that mean on time?”

“It does, and we are,” I said.

“Captain Kretschmer would like to speak to you.”

“Is he in his office?” Jack asked. I knew Jack was dying to have a look in there.

“No. He is in the auditorium. “

“Where's that?” I asked.

“On the other side of the compound. Big building, two storeys tall.”

“Okay, I know the one,” Jack said. “That's where they were rehearsing a play.”

Jack and I dumped our bags onto Hans's desk and the
mail flowed out. Some letters and parcels spilled over the sides, hitting the floor.

“Please … please … take more care!” Hans exclaimed as he leaped to his feet and tried to stop any more letters from falling.

We kept pouring until the bags were empty and his once-organized desk was a mass of unsorted, untidy mail. Hans bent down and scooped up the letters and parcels, clucking to himself and saying something in German under his breath. Even though I didn't understand the words I had a pretty good idea what they meant. He was never happy when things weren't organized and proper. I got the feeling that Jack actually enjoyed bothering Hans. Jack had said to me: “If the Germans are so precise and organized how come they're losing the war?”

“Do you know what he wants to talk to us about?” I asked Hans.

“
Nein, nein
. Commanders don't tell their inferiors what they wish to discuss.”

“You're working on a need-to-know basis and you don't need to know anything,” I joked.

Jack shot me a dirty look—what was wrong with me, kidding Hans?

“We have to get going,” Jack said. “We don't want to keep Otto waiting.”

“Otto,” Hans echoed, shaking his head sadly. “Children
should never refer to an adult by his first name—it shows no respect.”

“He asked us to call him Otto,” I said.

“In Germany, children—”

“And we're not in Germany,” Jack added.

Jack spun around and started off. I waved goodbye to a startled-looking Hans and caught up with my brother.

“You gotta learn to keep your mouth shut,” Jack said.

“Me? I wasn't the one insulting Hans.”

Jack stopped as we got outside the door, grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled me close to him. “And I'm not the one saying things like ‘on a need-to-know basis.' Do you remember who said that to you?”

“Of course I do. It was one of the …” I didn't complete the sentence. It was one of the guards at Camp X.

“You don't know what connections these guys might make that would betray us,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Understand?”

“I understand. I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again.”

“It better not.”

“Could you let me go now?” I asked. “People are looking.”

A couple of men passing by were craning their necks to watch us. Jack let go of my shirt and then brushed his hands down the front to straighten it.

“Let's go.”

“But isn't the building we want that way?” I asked, pointing in almost the opposite direction from where he was heading.

“Just follow me,” Jack said.

“But we could get there a lot faster if we—” Jack had continued walking. He was way ahead now and I was talking to myself.

“Did it ever occur to you that getting there faster isn't as important as having a chance to wander around and investigate?” Jack asked as I caught up to him again.

“Obviously not.”

“Just keep your mouth shut and your eyes and ears open. You know that's why God gave you one mouth and two eyes and ears—you should look and listen twice as much as you talk. With you, it's the other way around.”

We circled around the side of one of the residences and we were greeted, as usual, by the blaring of accordion music.

“Doesn't that guy ever get tired of playing?” I asked.

“Doesn't look like it, although I'm pretty tired of hearing it.”

“Either he plays all the time or he saves his music for when we're around,” I said.

“Nope,” Jack replied. “I heard some of the guards talking about how they'd like him to quit too.”

Continuing around the building and along the fence, we passed prisoners moving in the other direction, or
simply standing, smoking, talking. There were two groups on the playing field. It looked as though they were warming up.

“Do you think we could stick around and watch some of the game?” I asked.

“Maybe we could stick around, but it wouldn't be to watch the game.”

“Then what?”

“You know how popular those games are. Practically all the prisoners go and watch.”

“Yeah, well, they're good games,” I said.

“I was thinking that would be a pretty good time to be somewhere else on the compound. You know, just strolling around without anybody to see us.”

“What do you mean by ‘strolling'?” I asked.

“Just walking. Maybe looking in some of the buildings as we pass. Aren't you curious about what's going on here?”

“Curious I am. Stupid I'm not.”

We finally came around to the back of the auditorium. We made our way up the steps to the front door and entered, and immediately became aware of loud voices. What was everyone yelling about?

Then we saw. There was a stage, and people were wearing costumes—old-fashioned costumes. They were working on their play, a dozen men and a woman. Where had the woman come from?

 
I could make out the words now—they weren't yelling, they were saying their lines loudly for an imaginary audience at the back of the hall. They were speaking English, but it sounded strange. Not just because of the German accents—some of the words were just funny … old-fashioned, just like the costumes.

“Pssst!”

It was Otto. He was sitting on a bench along the back wall. We walked over and sat down beside him.

“Rehearsal,” he whispered. “Dress rehearsal. The play is to be performed in two weeks.”

“What play is it?” I whispered back.

“Romeo and Juliet.”

“Is that Juliet?” I asked, pointing to the woman on stage.

He nodded.

“Where did she come from? There aren't any women prisoners here … are there?”

“Juliet is a prisoner, but
he
isn't a woman. Juliet is being played by an army officer named Karl Hirsch.”

“That's a man?” Jack asked.

“Yes, but he makes a lovely woman.”

“Why didn't you just pick a different play?” I asked.

“Almost all plays have at least one female in them,” Otto explained.

“But
Romeo and Juliet
?” I questioned.

“It is a classic. Although we have had to change some of the scenes—Karl was agreeable to playing a woman,
but not to kissing our Romeo. In truth, we are simply going back to Shakespeare's roots.”

“I don't understand,” I said.

“In the original days, when Shakespeare was writing and his plays were being performed, all the parts were played by males.”

“All the parts? Even Juliet?”

“
Ja
. Our actors are very good. Do you boys wish to come to the performance?”

“Could we?” I asked.

“You would be my very special guests. Do you ever go to the theatre?”

“We went to a show last Christmas,” I said.

“In Toronto,” Jack added.

“Toronto?” Otto said. “I hear it is a very nice city.”

“I don't know about nice, but it is big,” Jack said.

“I hope to visit it someday … after the war. It is not far from here, correct?”

“Not far,” I said. This was too strange—it was happening just the way Little Bill had said it would!

“I am told that the main street of Bowmanville— Highway 2—leads right to Toronto.”

“You could drive there in less than an hour if you had a car,” I said.

“Quicker if you had a fast car,” Jack added.

“It is hard for me to get it all in my head,” Otto said. “I know we are near Bowmanville, but I am so curious
about the towns and villages around here. Many of us wonder if we might come back to Canada someday, not only to visit but to settle. It would be most helpful to learn about the surrounding communities.”

“It's easier if you can look at them on a map,” Jack said.

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. I tried to not even blink.

“Do you have a map?” Jack asked.

“No.”

“We've got a map at home. Would you like me to bring it in for you to see?”

“If it's no trouble, I would appreciate that.”

“It would be no trouble at all,” Jack said, cool as a cucumber.

“Do you think I could keep the map … you know … take it back to Germany with me when I go?” Otto said.

“I guess … It didn't cost that much,” Jack said.

“Oh, I would pay you for it. I will give you five dollars.”

“Five dollars!” I exclaimed. “It couldn't have cost more than fifty cents!”

“Or even less,” Jack said.

“But it is worth more to me than that. Besides, what else do I have to spend my money on? Consider the extra money to be a delivery charge.”

“You're on!” Jack said, I could tell his enthusiasm was all for show. “But I'm not exactly sure where the map is.
It might take me a couple of days to find it—some of our stuff is still in boxes after the move.”

“I understand. A few days would be fine.”

“We'd better get going now,” Jack said. “We'll see you tomorrow.”

Jack and I left the building. I started in one direction and Jack turned in the other. I quickly caught up with him.

“It was just like Little Bill said,” I told Jack.

“Exactly. We have to contact Bill and have them get us a special map. I hope it won't take too long.”

“Is that why you said you didn't know exactly where the map was?” I asked.

“I was buying time. Hey, look, there's the chair and the accordion but no accordion player,” Jack said, pointing ahead toward House Four.

“I guess he finally got tired of playing.”

The words had barely escaped my lips when the man came out of the building, saw us, and practically ran over and grabbed his instrument. He began playing before he'd even strapped it on—which made it sound even worse than before.

“That's strange,” Jack said.

“With all the practice, you'd figure he'd be getting better.”

“Yeah, you would.”

Jack suddenly veered off the path so he was headed straight for the accordion player. What was he doing
that for? We needed to get farther away from this guy, not closer.