The Traitors of Camp 133

by Wayne Arthurson

  Aachen nodded. “He must have gotten far in that short time and then headed for more suitable hiding ground.”

  “But there really isn’t anything in the way of suitable hiding ground. That’s why they built the camp where it is. And if he headed into the town, someone would have spotted him immediately and reported him.”

  “Need I remind you that other soldiers have snuck into town before, Sergeant? And they weren’t reported.”

  “But those soldiers worked outside the camp and just snuck away from their work farms to go see a movie as a lark. They didn’t really escape and there wasn’t an alarm that woke the entire area. If any one of us was seen in town, even one of the outside workers, we would have been reported. As I said, by all accounts he should have been caught by now.”

  “Unless someone helped him,” Aachen said. “And is still helping him.”

  “That exact thought crossed my mind,” the sergeant said. “Too many questions, too many coincidences. Time to get some answers.”

  22.

  Neumann and Aachen both made their way to the hut where the legionnaires bunked and pushed their way in. Instead of the usual two legionnaire guards at the door, there were four including the two Neumann had dealt with before.

  The sergeant held a hand up at the men as they approached. “Gentlemen, you know why I’m here and instead of acting all provocative and protective, just find Colonel Ehrhoff and tell him I wish to talk to him,” he said. “We don’t want any repeats of what happened last time, do we? That was an unpleasant experience for some of you and with Corporal Aachen by my side, I’m pretty sure the repeat experience would be even more unpleasant.”

  Hans, one of the men Neumann had bested the other time he was here, gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, moving to step forward. But Philip, who also had been in on the fight, placed his hand on the chest of his partner, holding him back.

  “Go find the colonel. Tell him who is here,” Philip told Hans.

  Hans looked at his partner for a second, shook his head, and grunted.

  “Go,” Philip said, this time in French. “And go fast before I beat you.”

  Hans paused, spat in the direction of Neumann and Aachen, and then stormed away. A few minutes later, Colonel Ehrhoff, dressed in the same Bedouin style as before, walked into the room. The guards parted to let him by.

  “Sergeant Neumann. Why am I not surprised to see you? Although I heard that you were being held by the Canadians.”

  “They let me go after a couple of nights. They wanted to make a point to me about something, but I wasn’t sure what it was. All I know is that the first good sleep I’ve had in a very, very long time was interrupted by one of your men escaping the camp in the middle of the night.”

  “Yes, Legionnaire Pohlmann.”

  “Who just happens to be the very man I chased in here four days ago. The very man who ran from the scene where Captain Mueller was found. The very man you agreed to let me talk to. And now he’s escaped. I find that highly coincidental.”

  Ehrhoff sighed. “Yes, that is troubling isn’t it? Not just for you but for us as well.”

  “Then, hopefully, we can talk about it.”

  Ehrhoff rubbed his face and then nodded. “Of course, Sergeant Neumann, we should talk about it. But not here. I know a better and more pleasant place where we can speak in private.”

  “As long as that private place doesn’t involve a quiet, yet hard discussion with your men here.”

  Ehrhoff laughed and shook his head. “You are one of a kind, Sergeant Neumann. Before I met you, I thought I would hate you, considering your position in the camp. But in reality, you seem to be an honourable man. As I said before, I am sure you would have made a great legionnaire.”

  “Again, I’ll take that as a compliment, but it doesn’t answer my question.”

  Ehrhoff stepped forward and put his arm around Neumann like an old friend. “One thing I learned during my time in the Legion, more so than during the First War, was the concept of honour. And not just from my fellow legionnaires. The Bedouins, you know, have great honour. They live and breathe it every day, a code of honour so deep and complicated, entrenched in their community for thousands of years, that it is difficult for an outsider like me to even begin to comprehend the intricacies. One day, you do something considered to be an act of great integrity, and then the next day, the same act is an insult. It’s very complicated, and has much to do with who you are dealing with, the time of day it is, the weather at the time, the season perhaps, even the location you are in. I still cannot comprehend most of it.”

  “Yes, that is very interesting,” Neumann said, his voice dry. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

  “I am, Sergeant Neumann, in my own way.” If Ehrhoff was annoyed with Neumann’s sarcasm, he didn’t show it. “You see, there is one aspect of Bedouin honour that is not open to interpretation. It is sacrosanct to them and even to an outsider meeting them for the first time it is obvious. To the Bedouin, there is no greater person in the world than a guest. If they invite someone into their tent or oasis as a guest, that guest and his compatriots are the most important persons in that tent. Nothing comes before a guest. A Bedouin would give their own lives to protect a guest in their tent, even if that guest is an enemy.”

  “That’s a nice sociological lesson, but what does that have to do with this situation?”

  “As you can tell by my dress, many of us in the Legion, especially those of us serving in Africa, like to emulate the Bedouins. So please, Sergeant Neumann, I invite you and young Corporal Aachen into my tent as my guest. We will drink tea, eat some good food, and talk.”

  “I could do without that food and drink and more with that talk.”

  “Of course, based on what happened four nights ago, we have much to talk about.”

  23.

  The legionnaire hut was no different than any other hut in the camp. Soldiers sat on their bunks alone or in groups doing things that soldiers do in a military camp when they have nothing to do. They read, they slept, they smoked, they wrote, either letters home or in a journal, they tended to their uniforms, and they played various games, some for money. In short, they were all bored out of their minds and the appearance of two non-legionnaires, especially ones as well-known as Neumann and Aachen, passing through their hut was the high point of their day. Even though Ehrhoff called Neumann and Aachen guests of his metaphorical tent, it was obvious from the dark looks they got from many of legionnaires that they were not welcome.

  That lack of welcome was also evidenced by the fact that as they followed Colonel Ehrhoff, they were closely flanked by Hans, Philip, and two other guards.

  The one difference Neumann and Aachen both noticed about the legionnaire hut was how orderly and clean it was. There was an effort by the camp command to ensure that the Germans kept their living areas clean and tidy, as if they were in a military base in the Reich. But standards were more lax in the camp as prisoners resigned themselves to never seeing battle again.

  The legionnaires didn’t seem to have that resignation; they were still in military mode despite being held prisoner. Every bunk was made, every soldier’s area pristine and ready for inspection. It seemed that they were ready to fight at any time. And that was probably true. After this war was over, it was highly probable that almost all of these soldiers wouldn’t go home to their families like everyone else in the camp; as legionnaires, they would fight somewhere else.

  At the end of the line of bunks, Neumann and Aachen spotted something that made them stop. Several of the bunks had been removed and in their place someone had set up a tent of sorts. It was made from what looked to be a series of sheets and blankets, the linens the Canadians gave each prisoners for their beds, sewn together to make a single huge piece of fabric. It hung like an Arabian tent from hooks in the ceiling and walls, draping onto floor.


  Ehrhoff reached the entrance of the tent and then turned to Neumann and Aachen. The two stared at the tent, their faces incredulous with surprise. Ehrhoff saw their looks and smiled.

  “Wonderful, isn’t it? And I’ll bet when I invited you to be a guest of my tent, you weren’t expecting an actual tent.”

  Ehrhoff pulled the flap to open the entrance and waved at the two men to enter. “Please, as I said, be my guest.”

  Neumann looked at Aachen, shrugged, and entered the tent. Aachen went after him, followed by Ehrhoff and then his group of four guards.

  The floor of the tent was covered by a carpet made out of blankets sewn together. A series of bunk mattresses and pillows were placed in a circle to make a seating area and in the middle of this seating area were two round tables, one with plates of cheeses, breads, and dried fruits, the other with an electric kettle, a teapot, and several cups that had been taken from one of the messes.

  Ehrhoff moved to take the seat directly across from the entrance and gestured for Neumann and Aachen to sit near him, just off to the side. Again, Neumann shrugged and took a seat.

  Since the other legionnaires chose to stand in strategic positions around the tent, Aachen opted to stand as well, behind Sergeant Neumann. If Ehrhoff found this unusual, he didn’t give any indication.

  He poured some hot water from the kettle into the teapot, waited a few moments, and then held the teapot and a cup towards Sergeant Neumann.

  “Tea, Sergeant? It’s not the best, but since the Canadians are descended from the English, it’s not bad.”

  Neumann waved a hand to refuse. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Then some cheese or bread perhaps. You arrived here very shortly after the count, indicating that you haven’t had breakfast, so please help yourself.”

  “No, nothing for me.”

  “Perhaps Corporal Aachen?”

  “Aachen is fine. Thank you, Colonel.”

  “Please, Sergeant, indulge me. Have something to eat. Drink some tea. It’s considered quite traditional in the Bedouin culture for guests to partake in tea and something to eat and then slowly ease into conversation.”

  “But I am not a Bedouin. And with all due respect, Colonel Ehrhoff, neither are you. We’re Germans, Germans who may serve in completely different battalions with completely different traditions, possibly even values, but we’re still Germans nonetheless. And all these trappings that you have and these so-called Bedouin customs you seem to have a deep affection for will not change that. So as a German who has little time on his hands and many things do today, I most respectfully request that we get on with this shit as quickly as possible.”

  Ehrhoff frowned. “You disappoint me, Sergeant Neumann,” he said pouring himself a cup of tea. “I thought you would be a man of culture and appreciate some of the ceremony in a life such as this.”

  “I’m sorry if you thought so, Colonel Ehrhoff, but as another sergeant told me today, a Canadian one at that, ‘Fuck off with the niceties, Fritz, I work for a living.’”

  “These Canadians are so young as a country, they lack any culture to speak off,” said Ehrhoff.

  “They may lack culture but I faced many Canadians in the First World War and for a country so young they’re fucking tough bastards. I guess you have to be tough bastards to live in a country like this with a land that seems to never end. And based on what I saw in North Africa, I’m betting your precious Bedouins are also tough bastards. So am I, as a matter of fact. You, too, Colonel, so, with all due respect, can we just cut all this bullshit and talk about Pohlmann?”

  The legionnaire guards did not try to disguise the sour looks on their faces at this remark, but Ehrhoff showed no outward emotion towards them. He just drank his tea and chewed on his bread. After the colonel swallowed, he gestured to Neumann, the way a lord would gesture to a steward who wanted to discuss some monotonous detail.

  “As you wish, Sergeant Neumann. Get on with it. Ask your questions, but be advised before you start that I may not answer all of them.”

  “I hope you’ll do your best, sir.”

  “Please just proceed.”

  “There are plenty of questions, but it all pretty much comes down to one: Why did Pohlmann escape?”

  Ehrhoff drank more tea and shrugged. “I have no idea. There are many reasons for people to escape from here, you know that.”

  “But not all those people were seen running from the scene with Captain Mueller and then asked to speak to me about it. You did ask him to speak to me, did you not, Colonel?”

  “Of course I did. I found Pohlmann later that day, told him about your request, and told him to satisfy that request.”

  “You told him or ordered him?”

  “Since I’m a colonel and he’s a corporal, anything I tell him to do is an order.”

  “But was that obvious to him?”

  “I have no idea what a soldier like Pohlmann thinks but in the Legion, when a superior officer tells you to do something, it’s always an order, never a request. At no time does a Legion officer have to say ‘that’s an order’ to a subordinate because it’s always an order.”

  “So Pohlmann knew he had no choice but to talk to me? Knew he would be disobeying orders if he did not?”

  “And he knew that we take a dim view on disobedience in the Legion.”

  “What about desertion? What’s the Legion view on desertion?”

  “Same as most military during a time of war. Death, usually being shot on the spot.”

  “So in the view of the Legion, has Pohlmann deserted?”

  “At the moment, we have no idea. Pohlmann’s act could be seen by some as taking initiative and causing difficulty for the enemy. If he is returned, we will probably call a tribunal of sorts and determine the matter.”

  “So was Pohlmann acting on his own initiative or was this part of a plan to disrupt the Canadians?”

  “As you may know, Sergeant Neumann, we legionnaires do have our own escape committee but we usually work in conjunction with the overall camp escape committee, coordinating actions so we don’t end up at cross purposes. It would be embarrassing for both sides if we started a tunnel without informing the camp committee and then ran into one of their tunnels while digging our own.”

  “So was your committee aware of Pohlmann’s escape? Was it part of the committee’s plan?”

  “It was not,” Ehrhoff said after a pause. “Pohlmann escaped of his own volition.”

  “And don’t you find that highly coincidental that he did so not long after you ordered him to talk to me about the Mueller situation?”

  “No doubt he was afraid of you. Like I’ve said before, you are a very formidable man, Sergeant Neumann, not just in size, but in presence. Also the way you handled Hans and Philip four days ago was most impressive, considering your age. Word about that scuffle has spread throughout our hut, much to the chagrin of Hans and Philip. The word is that you are not a man to be trifled with, and that you get your own way, no matter the obstacles in front of you. It’s quite plain that Pohlmann was afraid of you.”

  “Afraid that I would accuse him of murdering Captain Mueller?”

  “Pohlmann did not murder Captain Mueller. He does not have it in him.”

  “You’ve said that before, Colonel. Many people have said that about many murderers before and have been completely mistaken.”

  “I am not mistaken about Pohlmann.”

  “Tell me why.”

  “I would rather not.”

  “Please, Colonel Ehrhoff. Why are you not mistaken about Pohlmann? Why is he not a murderer?”

  Ehrhoff sighed and poured himself more tea. As he did, he gestured for Neumann to lean closer. “Because Pohlmann is a coward.”

  “Cowardice is not a good defence for murderers. Cowards are sometimes the best murderers because they are unable to fac
e up to situations and instead kill to protect themselves.”

  “Maybe I misspoke, then. Pohlmann’s very good at following orders, able to keep up in training, but in battle he only does enough to not be considered a shirker. He was always the last one to come out from cover and when he was put on point, he always had some type of injury.”

  “That’s not a coward,” said Neumann. “That’s a smart man.”

  “Quite, but his lack of warrior spirit was why he was put into administration, pushing paper, filing files—important duties no doubt, but less so than fighting on the battlefield.”

  “Based on that, it doesn’t seem like Pohlmann is the kind of soldier who would take it upon himself to escape from this camp in order to disrupt the Canadians. It looks like he did so because of something else. Because of fear.”

  “You wanted to talk to him and as I said, I’m pretty sure that would make him fearful.”

  “But, as you said, he’s not the kind of person who does well on the battlefield. The way Captain Mueller was killed … it would take someone who is used to that kind of violence, used to seeing it and committing it. And in any case,” Neumann looked at Aachen who was staring at the wall ahead of him, trying not to look too interested in the conversation the way a good adjutant should, “an attempt at murder, similar to the way Mueller was killed, was made a few nights ago, and there is no way Pohlmann could have been involved because it seems he was escaping at the time.

  “So even if he was afraid of me, there is probably no doubt that I would find him innocent of the crime, given what you have told me. So what else is Pohlmann afraid of?”

  Ehrhoff shrugged.

  “Come on, Colonel Ehrhoff. You seem to understand your men, care about them in many ways, even those you call cowards like Pohlmann. Surely you might have some idea.”

  “I care about my men, Sergeant Neumann, because when you become a legionnaire, you pledge to give your life to the Legion and your fellow legionnaires. La mort qui nous oublie si peu. Nous, la Légion. But in this time, during this war, it’s been difficult to know where our loyalties as legionnaires stand. To the allies, we are Germans, no matter whose army we serve. And when Rommel came to North Africa, he asked many of us to fight for him, saying that since Germany ruled France through Vichy, we were in fact part of his army. And many of us did join him because we were able to fight for both our loyalties. Many of our Legion commanders said it was our duty to do so. On the other hand, there were those who said we should fight for the Free French, and help to overthrow the oppressive Nazi government. Hence, in several battles of this war, you had legionnaires fighting against legionnaires. But in the end, once this war is over, we will all fight for the Legion again, because in the end, the Legion is our lives. This is just a temporary moment.”