by Kris Tualla
Marguerite groaned and asked, “Who is it?”
“Military Police, ma’am.”
Kyle gasped and sat straight up. Her pulse roared in her ears. She turned on the light and grabbed her clock.
Five a.m.
Marguerite squinted and sat up as well. “Did he say Military Police?”
Kyle nodded and reached for her robe. “I’ll get it.”
She slid her feet into her slippers and donned her robe as she walked to the door. She heaved a breath and opened the door with a shaking hand.
Two massive MPs faced her, unsmiling. “Private Marguerite Franklin?”
Kyle shook her head and stepped back, opening the door wider. “Come in.”
The officers looked at Marguerite who still sat in her bed, wide-eyed and looking confused.
“Private Marguerite Franklin?”
She nodded. “Yes…”
“You’re under arrest for fraternization with the enemy. You’ll be held in the Camp Hale prison until your court martial, an which time you’ll be found either guilty or not guilty.”
Marguerite stared at the MPs. “What did I do?”
“You exchanged love notes with a German prisoner of war named Gerhardt Schilling.”
“Gerry?” Marguerite turned frantically to Kyle. “What do I do?”
Kyle chewed her lower lip, feeling sorry for the gullible and clueless woman. “Get dressed, Marguerite. You need to go with them.”
Chapter
Twenty Two
“We’ll be waiting outside, ma’am.” The MPs backed out of the room and pulled the door shut.
Marguerite still hadn’t grasped the severity of her situation. “Can’t they come back later? The sun’s not even up.”
Kyle sat on the foot of her own bed. “That’s not how getting arrested works.”
“This has to be a mistake,” Marguerite insisted. “It’s just love notes.”
Kyle tried not to look at Marguerite like she was the epitome of stupid, but it was a struggle. “That’s what fraternizing is. And you did it with the enemy of our country while we’re at war.”
“But I never told him anything military,” she objected.
“Are you sure?” Kyle pressed. “How do you know that something that seemed like nothing to you wasn’t a detail that would help them escape?”
Marguerite scowled. “He wouldn’t escape. He wants to marry me.”
“I wouldn’t mention that if I were you,” Kyle warned. “It would prove your guilt.”
A soft knock on their door was followed with, “Are you about ready?”
Marguerite was still in bed. “This has to be a mistake…”
Kyle sighed. “Mistake or not, I think you’d better get up and get dressed before they drag you out of here in your nightgown.”
That possibility seemed to get through Marguerite’s fog. She threw back the covers and jumped out of bed, hurrying to her closet. She pulled her nightgown over her head and reached for her bra.
“So…” she said with her back to Kyle. “Do you think they know about Flo and Frances, too?”
“I would assume so.”
“What about Jane and Helen?”
Kyle startled. “There were more of you?”
“Jane and Helen just started talking to the men a couple weeks ago.” Marguerite continued getting dressed, but she turned back to face Kyle, her confusion clear. “How do you think they found out?”
Kyle wasn’t about to confess her or Tor’s part in that. “I drove by the POW camp last night. All the lights were on and they were searching the barracks.”
“Really?” Marguerite’s movement stopped. “Why?”
Kyle couldn’t tell her about Private Maple and the escaped German prisoners because the Major General specifically ordered her not to.
So she just shrugged. “Maybe something happened…”
Marguerite finished dressing and sat down to brush her hair. The MPs knocked on the door again.
“Private Franklin!”
Kyle stood up and went to open the door. “Come in. She’s ready.”
The MPs entered the room again and Marguerite rose.
“Hold out your arms.”
She did, seeming to be unaware of the reason. But when the MP who’d done all the talking clamped handcuffs on her wrists she burst into tears.
“Do you have to do that?” she asked, sobbing.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The second MP opened the desk drawers and shuffled through the papers inside. Then he threw back Marguerite’s bedcovers and shook them out. He pulled the cover off her pillow. Then he lifted her mattress. Kyle’s heart lurched when she saw the messy pile of notes stashed under there.
When he began to collect them Marguerite cried, “Those are mine!”
The MP shot her a severe look, straightening the wad of notes in his hand. “Not anymore. Now they’re evidence.”
He handed the stack to the other officer before he made a perfunctory search of Marguerite’s dresser. Finding nothing else, he nodded to his companion.
The MP who handcuffed Marguerite took hold of her elbow. “Let’s go.”
*****
Kyle couldn’t go back to sleep after such a deeply disturbing interruption, so she got dressed for the day. When she finished, she still had half-an-hour before she needed to go get her jeep and pick up Tor, so she sat down and started a letter to Erik.
A very disturbing thing happened before dawn this morning—my roommate was arrested for fraternizing with the enemy! She and some of her friends had been visiting the POW enclosure here at Camp Hale and talking to the Germans imprisoned there. They were writing love notes back and forth, and even went so far as to think that the Germans would marry them when the war ends. Who would want to marry a Nazi?
Kyle stopped, wondering if she should mention not getting anything from him for Valentine’s Day. Maybe he did send her something, but it got lost for some reason. If that was the case, he’d want to know.
And if he sent her nothing, then he might be prompted to make up for the oversight now.
I hope you got my card for Valentine’s Day. I sent it early so it would arrive on time. I thought I would hear from you, but nothing has come yet. I hope it hasn’t been lost.
“That should do it.” Kyle folded the letter she’d finish later and tucked it in the desk drawer before she considered Marguerite’s disheveled half of the room.
She couldn’t live with such a messy reminder of the nurse’s indiscretions, so she bundled the linens for the laundry and folded the blanket, which she stowed under the pillow at the head of the bed on the bare mattress.
Marguerite’s dresser drawers were closed, so whatever disarray was created inside wasn’t visible.
Kyle donned her coat and left the room. It was finally time to pick up Tor and tell him what happened.
*****
Tor climbed into the jeep. The look on Kyle’s face startled him. “What happened?”
“Marguerite was arrested at five o’clock this morning.” Kyle’s expression was an odd combination of excitement and despair. “Fraternization with the enemy. She’ll face a court martial.”
That was a lot of information to receive at once. “What about the other two?”
“I assume Flo and Frances received the same visit. But—” Kyle gave him a knowing look. “There are two more WACs involved.”
Tor’s brow shot upward. “Two more nurses?”
“I don’t know if they’re nurses or not. All Marguerite said was that their names are Jane and Helen.”
“Five, then?” Tor wagged his head. “I hope they didn’t give away too much information.”
“The MPs found a bunch of notes under Marguerite’s mattress.” Kyle’s lips twisted. “I guess they’ll find out when they read them.”
That’s certainly true. “How’d she react? When the MPs came?”
Kyle huffed. “She didn’t understand how serious it was until they handcu
ffed her.”
He coughed a rough chuckle. “That would convince anyone, I’m sure.”
“You were right about the activity at the POW camp last night resulting in something like this. They must’ve found notes with the women’s names on them.”
Tor nodded his agreement. “Couldn’t arrest them without that I wouldn’t think.”
Kyle’s expression turned pensive. “I wonder if they found anything connected with Maple and the escape.”
“If they did, I doubt Jones will tell us,” Tor answered truthfully. “Are you going to tell him about the other two WACs?”
“I don’t know…” She sounded sadly resolved. “I suppose I should.”
“I agree. Even if all you have is first names, there might be evidence of their involvement in the other notes.”
Kyle shifted the running jeep into gear. “I’ll go after I drop you at the mountain.”
February 21, 1944
The secret of the POWS and their assisted escape was revealed in the Ski-Zette four days later. Kyle translated and read the article to Tor that afternoon when she picked him up from training.
Camp Hale Private Caught With Two Escaped Nazis
Private Dale Maple of the 85th Mountain Division was arrested on February 18th when he and two German POWs were caught crossing the border into Mexico.
Maple purchased a 1934 REO sedan in preparation for the escape. On February 15th he picked up Afrika Korps Sergeants Heinrich Kikillus and Erhard Schwichtenberg from a work detail. After thirty-six hours of driving, they were within seventeen miles of the Mexican border when they ran out of gas.
The trio then covered the remaining distance on foot until they entered Mexico, where they were arrested by a Mexican customs official and turned over to American authorities.
Maple has been identified as a Naziphile and was often seen near the POW encampment where he conversed with the men in German. He is currently being jailed in Albuquerque, New Mexico and has been charged with treason.
The escaped prisoners are being returned to Camp Hale, where they will be held in solitary confinement for the remainder of the war.
Kyle looked at Tor. “At least we don’t have to keep that secret any longer. But I still don’t understand how he could do such a thing.”
“Or any of them, for that matter.” Tor’s blood heated whenever he encountered anyone who was sympathetic to the Nazis and their darkly perverted cause. “I can only think that they’re ignorant of the unconscionable crimes that Hitler and his filthy henchmen are committing all across Europe.”
“It’s harder here,” Kyle admitted. “None of us has seen it for ourselves.”
“Pray that you never do,” Tor replied stiffly. “Because that would mean we couldn’t stop them.”
March 7, 1944
Two weeks later, Kyle translated the Ski-Zette to Tor again as they sat down to supper.
“It says that the Army convened the court martial and, instead of treason, they charged Maple under the 81st Article of War for relieving, corresponding with, or aiding the enemy.”
She looked at Tor. “They called it the closest equivalent to the charge of treason.”
Tor scowled. “Why did they do that?”
Kyle’s eyes skimmed the paper. “It doesn’t say. Maybe it’s easier to prove.”
Tor grunted. “Was he convicted, then?”
Kyle nodded. “He pled innocent, but was found guilty and was sentenced to death by hanging.”
“Good. He deserves it,” he stated without a trace of empathy.
Kyle turned the page. “Oh! Here’s an article about the nurses involved with the POWs.”
Her brow lowered as she read and translated. “Frances, Florence, and Marguerite were all found guilty of fraternization with the enemy and sentenced to twelve months in prison, to be followed by dishonorable discharge.”
“What about the other two?”
“They aren’t mentioned.” Kyle looked up at Tor. “But wait until you hear this: the Denver Post reported that military officials seized three or four stills and forty to fifty gallons of liquor from the POWs here.”
“What the hell is going on?” Tor pounded an angry fist on the mess hall table, causing their silverware to jump and tangle. “Is this camp just a resort for the Germans?”
“Easy, Hansen.” Torger Tokle slid into the seat next to his. “What’s got your Norwegian up?”
Tor gave Torger a brief rundown of the three articles, none of which showed Camp Hale in the best light.
“Well, then…” Torger grinned. “You should be happy to remember that once again the champion skiers of Camp Hale have a chance to redeem the camp’s tarnished reputation.”
The thought of skiing competitively always lifted Tor’s spirits. “At Pike’s Peak? When?”
“April twenty-third.” Torger tapped the Ski-Zette in Kyle’s hand. “It’s on page one.”
I need to read that for myself.
Kyle closed the paper and handed it to Tor. “I think your English might be good enough for you to pick out the important parts.”
Torger looked at him in surprise. “You finally learning English?” he asked in that language.
“I speak a little English, now,” Tor replied, feeling like a complete fool. “But please speak slowly.”
“Good for you!” Torger pounded his shoulder then returned to Norsk as he pointed at the paper. “See what you can work out on your own, and ask me about what you can’t.”
“I will.” Tor smiled. “And thank you.”
When they were alone again, Tor asked Kyle, “Have you heard from Erik lately?”
His obsession with her relationship with her fiancé wasn’t healthy and he knew it. Neither was his hope that the engagement would end. In spite of that, he asked as sincerely as he could, knowing he wasn’t in a position to offer her any alternative.
She lifted one unconcerned shoulder. “Yeah. I sent him a letter after Marguerite was arrested and added a comment that his Valentine’s card never arrived.”
I bet he never sent one.
“What was his response?”
Kyle made a disgusted face. “The first page-and-a-half was all about how he wasn’t surprised at the WACs’ behavior and that the women didn’t understand why they shouldn’t become involved with the men.”
Tor was aghast. “He did not.”
“Yes, he did.”
I’d deck him if he was in front of me right now.
“And then,” she continued, “the next day I got a card. But the postmark on it was after he got my letter.”
“Do you think he forgot?” Tor poked.
“I don’t know. He says it was the second card he sent and that the first one must have gotten lost.”
Tor’s delight stabbed him with guilt. He held up the folded Ski-Zette. “I’m going to go decipher the English. Wish me luck.”
“Do you want me to drive you to your barracks?”
Tor stood, knowing that the precarious mood he was in at the moment made that unwise. “No. I want to walk. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
*****
The headline read: Many Camp Hale Skiers Submit Entries for Pikes Peak Ski Tournament and the subtitle below claimed: Will Be First of Kind to Be Held in U.S.
Tor read the article with increasing excitement. The competition was to be held way above timberline on the snow-covered north face of Pikes Peak. It said that the list of men who submitted entries for the meet was increasing daily—thank God I’m not too late—and many were members of the Mountain Training Group.
Corporal Friedl Pfeifer was the first name listed.
Tor scanned the list of names for Torger, but he wasn’t there. The disclaimer, many more men from the Tenth Division have entered the meet, but it was not possible to get their names for this week’s issue of the Ski-Zette settled that.
The article said that the meet would consist of a controlled downhill and slalom race on a brand-new course which started at thirte
en thousand feet and dropped to Glen Cove—one-and-a-half miles and a thousand feet below.
Tor was practically salivating. He felt the fizzy tingle of anticipation flood his veins. Such a challenge was irresistible to him. He must talk to Pfeifer first thing in the morning and find out how to enter. He had to be there. He needed to be there.
Chapter
Twenty Three
March 23, 1944
With the mountain shrouded in clouds, training today would consist of military tactics required once the soldiers reached their objective. Tor showed his trainees how to change the cable location on their skis from the rear to the side of the toe piece, converting the binding from downhill to cross-country allowing the heel to lift during the stride.
Private Keith Kossin was assigned to Tor’s group again but would train on a limited basis. Nine weeks after Kossin’s fall the pins were removed and his leg was still in a brace, but the doctors wanted him to put weight on it and start moving again.
Tor was happy to have the man back under his tutelage and hoped he could build on what the hapless private already knew. Kossin was beaming, clearly ecstatic to be back.
Kyle was with him this morning to translate the day’s instructions since they were doing something new.
“We’re going to cross-country ski quite a way out to the training grounds,” Tor began. “There’s an enemy tent out there and men dressed in enemy uniforms. Once we get close, we’ll take our skis off because they’ll make noise in the snow.”
He paused until Kyle finished. “Does everyone have their show shoes?”
All eighteen heads nodded.
“Good. Now when we approach the tent, there will be absolutely no talking. None. Is that understood?”
Again, all heads nodded.
“You are to slip up on the enemy, put your bayonet to their neck, and say if you make a noise, I’ll kill you.”