Camp 30 (16 page)

“Do you see somebody?” I whispered anxiously.

“Better to circle around on the side away from the tower.”

“But the guards aren't going to be looking for us,” I said.

“Maybe not, but there's more light coming from the fence, so there's more chance of somebody, anybody, spotting us.”

I trailed after him. He was right, it was darker on the far side of the building. As we rounded the building I saw the corner of House Four. Beyond it were the fence and guard towers. I turned around and looked back at the rest of the compound. House Four was definitely closer to the fence than any other building. Why hadn't I ever noticed that before?

Jack walked out of the shadows, ran across the path and came up to the side of the building. I sprinted after
him, not daring to stop until I was pressed against the side of the building too.

“This is the way in,” Jack said, pointing to a door just off to the side. He sidled over and reached for the door and pulled. “It's locked.”

I knew Jack was disappointed. I felt relieved.

Suddenly the door burst open and three soldiers came out. They were talking loudly and laughing, and then all three began singing energetically and off-key. I froze to the spot, pressed against the building, as they walked across the grass to a path and headed toward the dining hall, the sound of their singing gradually fading. Finally it was quiet again.

“That was close,” I said. “I don't know how they didn't see us.”

“They wouldn't have noticed if they'd tripped over us,” Jack said. “They were all drunk.”

“Drunk?”

“Couldn't you tell?” Jack asked. “Makes me wonder if they have a still in there.”

“Do you really think so? Maybe that's what they were protecting. If that's all it is, we could head back—we don't care if there's a still.”

“You're right, we don't, but I think there's more here than any still. Let's keep going.”

“Look, the door didn't close behind them!” Jack said. It was slightly ajar. He reached for the door and pulled it
open. He stepped in, holding the door so I could slip in after him. We were facing a long hallway. There was a bare light bulb dangling from a wire at the far end, but other than that the hall was dingy and dark.

“Do you hear anything?” I whispered.

Jack turned his head and listened. “Nothing. Do you?”

“Just my heart beating.”

Even in the dim light I could make out Jack's scowl quite clearly.

Silently we walked down the hall. We passed by doors on both sides—doors that were, thank goodness, closed.

“What are we looking for?” I whispered.

“I'll know when I see it.”

The farther we went down the hall, the closer we got to the light bulb and the more exposed I felt. Jack stopped as the hall opened up into a bright sitting room. There were chairs and tables, and I could picture lively games of skat going on there. Now it was empty and quiet. On the opposite side of the open area another hall led away to the far end of the residence. That was the end closest to the fence, the end that was always guarded by the accordion player.

On silent feet Jack started across the sitting room. I followed close behind, turning my head from side to side, scanning all around. Jack stopped and I practically bumped into him.

“Why did you—?” I started to say, and then I heard voices. I looked to the left just in time to see the front
door start to open. Jack and I both jumped forward, just making it into the far hall before anybody could appear. We ran down the hall—all we had to do was get to the door at the end and we'd be outside—and two men appeared out of nowhere, blocking our way! They looked shocked to see us as we skidded to a stop.

“Hey! Halt!” yelled one of the men.

“The other way!” Jack yelled as he pushed me back.

 I'd run no more than a few feet when I saw two men blocking that end of the hall as well. We were trapped!

“Halt! Stop!”

Jack grabbed the doorknob of the door to our right. He shook it, but it was locked. The men were rushing toward us from both directions! Jack pushed on the door on the other side of the hall and he practically tumbled in as it opened. I jumped in over top of him and—

There were three men, all wearing filthy clothes, standing in the little room Their expressions looked as shocked as I felt. A fourth man appeared out of nowhere, his head and shoulders popping out of a hole in the floor.

There was a rush from behind as two men shot through the door and I was grabbed!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I WORKED HARD
to control myself. I didn't want anybody to see me trembling even though I was terrified. I bit down on my cheek to chase away the tears that wanted to escape. My clothes—my
good
clothes— were now streaked with mud from when we'd been grabbed. What was Mom going to say when she saw my clothes? I suddenly realized how ridiculous it was for me to be worrying about that. I had other things to worry about.

I rubbed my left shoulder. It had been wrenched and twisted by the one soldier when I'd tried to wriggle free. There really hadn't been any point in fighting. They had us outnumbered, out-muscled and trapped in this little room—the room where the tunnel started.

Jack sat in the chair beside me. I knew he was trying to look brave, but he looked scared. On either side of us stood a soldier. Two more stood directly behind. All were
in the same filthy clothing, faces blackened, hair caked with mud. We sat there and watched as another dozen men came out of the opening—all equally filthy, all equally shocked to see us as they exited the tunnel.

They talked among themselves quickly and quietly in German. I couldn't pick out enough words to make any sense of what they were saying. Jack probably understood more. I didn't
want
to understand more. I just wanted to be somewhere else.

The door opened and Otto appeared. He was still in his fancy dress uniform, his chest dotted with medals. I expected him to be angry. Instead he looked worried.

“Are you boys fine?” he asked. “You did not get hurt?”

 “We're okay,” I said, although I kept rubbing my shoulder.

“This is so unfortunate,” he said. He pulled up a chair and sat down right in front of us.

He turned to the soldiers and barked out something in German. They all saluted and left the room, leaving the three of us alone.

“You of course know what is happening here,” he said.

“We know there's a tunnel,” Jack said. “That's pretty obvious.”

He stood up and walked over to the hole. It wasn't very big—not much more than two feet square—but it was completely black, hinting at just how deep it might be. He peered down into it.

“The tunnel extends for almost three hundred feet. From here, under the fence, beneath the road and well into the field beyond so as not to be seen from the guard towers.”

“Where did all the dirt go?” I asked.

He pointed up. “It is all stored in the rafters of this building. Above our heads are thousands and thousands of pounds of dirt.”

“Was that a smart place to put it?” I asked.

“Compounding the risk, the supports used in the tunnel—which are, I am told, no more than four feet apart—are made from wood taken from the attic.”

I looked up at the ceiling. Was it sagging or was that just paint peeling off?

“Judging from your expressions, it appears that you two also doubt the wisdom of that. I had my concerns, but so far …” He shrugged.

“The tunnel is very well lit. All along the tunnel there are lights, although they are turned off now. The electrical system of the residence was diverted. We have also made a ventilation system. Cans from food were taken, both ends cut out and then connected with duct tape. A hand pump sends fresh air throughout. I am told it is very efficient.”

“Told?” Jack asked. “It sounds like you haven't been down there.”

“As I told you, I do not like closed spaces. It is not a wide path. It must be less than two feet across to fit
between the holes the guards have drilled to check for tunnels.”

There was a knock at the door and I practically jumped out of my seat.

“Kommen Sie,”
Otto said.

The door opened and another soldier in dress uniform appeared.
“Fünf Minuten,”
he said.

“Ja, ja,”
Otto answered, and the man left.

“Only five minutes until intermission ends, and I must be seen to arrive or suspicions will be raised.” He paused. “I was just wondering, what made you suspicious of this house?”

“The accordion player,” I said. “Did he play whenever somebody got too close?”

Otto smiled slightly and nodded. “Before I leave I must apologize,” he said. “It is my fault you are caught up in this … this … pickle. I should never have invited you tonight, and all would have been well if your mother had been here to watch you.” Again he stopped talking. He looked unsure of what he was going to say next. “I have enjoyed our time together, and I simply wanted to say goodbye.”

“You're going out tonight. You're going to escape, right?” Jack asked.

He nodded again. “I will be leaving just after lights-out at eleven. Myself and Field Marshal Schmidt. It has been requested that we escape.”

“Requested by who?” I asked.

“Requested by our superiors.”

“But you two are the highest-ranking Germans in the camp,” I said.

“
Ja,
but this request is from outside the camp.”

I remembered that he'd met Hitler, that he'd been personally decorated by him, and had an eerie vision of the führer himself ordering them to escape.

“They built this whole tunnel for the two of you?” Jack asked.

“We will use the tunnel first. Four hours later, once we are clear and away, then others will follow. Many, many, many others.”

I felt a charge of electricity shoot through my body. This was what Bill had been afraid of, what we were supposed to be looking for—what we'd discovered too late and were helpless to stop.

“It is best that I go now—”

“Wait. What's going to happen to us?” Jack asked.

“You will be our guests tonight.”

“You can't just keep us here,” Jack said. “When we don't get home, our mother is going to call Colonel Armstrong and he'll search the camp.”

“Your mother will sleep until the morning. You told me that.”

“But when she wakes up and finds us gone she'll call right away,” Jack responded.

“And in the morning is too late. Everybody will be gone.”

“Will we be released then?” I asked.

“I will personally see to your release,” Otto said.

“But … but … you won't be here,” I said.

“And neither will you boys.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You will be coming with me … through the tunnel.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE PLAY HAD TO HAVE FINISHED
by now. I looked at my watch. It was almost ten-thirty. That meant that it wouldn't be long until Otto came back … until we went into the tunnel.

“Could I get up?” I asked one of the prisoners guarding us. I sort of knew him—at least we'd talked a few times before all of this and he'd always been friendly. Nobody seemed that friendly now. “I just want to stretch my legs,” I explained.

He hesitated and then nodded.

I got up off the chair. My legs felt numb from sitting so long. Actually my head felt numb as well. I'd been straining, trying to understand what was happening, struggling to think of something we could do. Nothing. We were caught. We were trapped.

I walked over until I was standing just above the hole in the floor. I looked down. From this angle it was no
longer dark. I guessed they'd turned their lights on. The hole got wider just below the floor and there was a ladder leading down. At the bottom another hole headed off—toward the fence and the field on the far side.

“Can I get up too?” Jack asked, and he was given permission. He sauntered over to my side.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“Been better.”

“Just stay alert,” he said quietly. “I don't know how or when, but a chance will come. When that happens you just run … understand?”

“No more talking!” one of the guards barked.

I looked at Jack, nodded and mouthed the words, “I'll be ready.”

The door opened and Otto, followed by Field Marshal Schmidt, entered the room. They were both dressed in dirty coveralls. Otto had another pair—no, two pairs— over his arm.

“Please slip these over your clothing,” he said as he handed them to us. “Your mother would not be pleased to see your good clothing ruined.”

I took the pair and slipped my leg in, my left shoe sticking in a spot before it popped out the leg hole. I pointed my toe and the second leg went through without a hitch. I put my arms in and buttoned up the front, then rolled up the extra-long sleeves and legs.

The field marshal had already started down the hole. He had to rotate his shoulders to fit them through the opening.

“Jack, you will proceed next, then George and then myself,” Otto said.

Neither Jack nor I moved.

“Please, it will be all right … you must trust me.”

“Trust you?” Jack scoffed. “You're the enemy!”

Otto shook his head. “I am not the enemy. I am your friend, and I safeguard your lives.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

Otto walked over to the hole and looked down. He walked back to our side.

“Your discovery of our tunnel was considered an act of espionage.”

“We weren't spying,” I pleaded.

“Please, George, we all know better.” He paused. “Do you know how spies are treated when they are captured?”

I did know. They were shot.