Betrayed: Secrecy, Lies, and Consequences

by Frederic Martini

  Each day, Fred worked on stretching his stomach and taking larger portions of the “real food” served at mealtimes. Fortunately, the kitchen produced large batches of what was not-so-affectionately known as “Green Death Soup” four times each week, which he found easy to keep down. After a month of determined effort, he could eat everything on his plate, at which point his weight slowly started to climb. One of the camp rules he had learned was that wasting food was considered a serious crime. Fred thought that was pretty funny — the idea that any Buchenwald airman would waste even a scrap of food was ludicrous.

  As the days passed, Fred and the other Buchenwald airmen settled into the daily routine of life in Stalag Luft III. A list of the new arrivals, their home towns, and their barracks assignments had been posted on the bulletin board at the cookhouse, so that any friends already in South Compound would know they were nearby. The men in Fred’s room were from all over the US, but Fred was the only New Yorker. There were, however, four other New Yorkers among the 131 men in his barracks. One of them, Capt. John Grunow in Room 1, was from Brooklyn. Grunow, still not certain of Fred’s bona fides, asked a few questions about the city that only residents could answer — what stores were on which corners, who played what position for the Dodgers, and where Fred liked to hang out. Fred rattled off the answers with ease, and that led to an exchange of war stories about neighborhood characters, showgirls, and wild parties. After that, everyone accepted Fred as genuine.

  With the help of his new comrades, Fred soon learned the local vocabulary: a “Kriegie” was a POW, a “goon” was a guard, a “canary” was a hidden radio, a “goonbox” was a guard tower, a “goonskin” was a German uniform, a “ferret” wore blue coveralls and probed the ground with long rods (searching for tunnels), the “cooler” was the punishment block of cells, and a “purge” was an arriving batch of new prisoners. He also learned that each day, a Kriegie was posted near the main gate as “duty pilot” to note the movements of the guards, who were counted as they entered and later as they left. If the numbers didn’t balance, there was a German sneaking around somewhere. When a goon came around a barracks, the first person to see him would call “Tally Ho” to let everyone know about it. Eventually, goons with a sense of humor would call “Tally Ho” themselves, as a way to say hello.

  With escape attempts on hold, the airmen had a lot of extra time on their hands. Some spent their time reading novels or nonfiction, while others took classes that used textbooks from the camp library, taught by POWs with specialized training. There were long, meandering discussions about food and women — the hungrier the men became, the briefer the conversations about women and the more elaborate the discussions about food. There were church services on Sunday, and the Red Cross and YMCA had supplied each compound with enough instruments to form bands that played at the services and in the theaters during musical productions. There was a continual effort on the part of the officers and men to keep morale up and to stay upbeat. Yet none of it seemed to mean much to Fred, who felt isolated from the goings on around him. He wished Sam had been assigned to South Compound, and he wondered how he was doing, wherever he was. It was a real shame that the compounds were totally isolated from one another.

  There was a lot of card playing, mostly poker and bridge, accompanied by discussions about back pay, sports, and aircraft. There were arguments over the best heavy bomber — B-24 or B-17?98 There was incessant banter between bomber crews and fighter pilots. Fred liked to play cards, and he would join in the chatter, especially if other Buchenwald airmen were in the group. Fred’s favorite story was about an exchange that took place while he was at Great Ashfield. A fighter from a base nearby had flown over the 385th to drop a big bag of manure on the runway near the planes of the 551st Squadron. In return, the 385th had sent a plane to do a bombing run over the fighter base, but rather than dropping a larger load of manure, which was probably anticipated — ground crews scattered as the plane approached — they dropped an elaborate document that read, “We regret to inform you that your commanding officer fell out of his airplane to his death on our airfield yesterday. We share your grief and await the arrival of your representative to claim the body.” The story was so popular, and so often repeated, that one of the POWs illustrated it as a comic strip.

  The POWs played outdoor sports, but none of the Buchenwald airmen had recovered enough to participate before early November, when severe weather put an end to such pursuits. For days at a time, temperatures were below freezing, and it snowed almost every day. None of the men had heavy enough clothing to stay outside for long, and the daily appell tested Fred’s endurance as well as his patience. To conserve the supply of coal, the barracks were unheated during daylight hours. The stoves were used only for cooking and to reduce the nighttime chill in the barracks. Fred spent a lot of time on his bunk, wrapped in blankets, catching brief naps, and wishing he could just sleep until the war was over.

  He was still terribly sleep deprived, but he had pretty much given up on getting a good night’s sleep. The cold and the nightmares, plus abdominal cramps and pains that struck with no warning, kept jolting him awake. On 2 November, his attempts to sleep were interrupted by air raid sirens and the sound of approaching bombers. There were no air raid shelters, and no slit trenches to hide in, so the men huddled in the room, as a target roughly five miles away was demolished by the RAF. The anxious prisoners could hear anti-aircraft fire and smell smoke, but there was no damage to the camp and no injuries to POWs.

  Fred continued to avoid discussing Buchenwald with anyone who hadn’t been there. The few times he loosened his guard and, under prodding, tried to describe what Buchenwald was like, the response was disbelief and derisive jokes. It was clear to Fred that his perspective was so different that he might as well be from another planet. So he spent much of his time with Ed, Stan, Roy, Paul, and others with whom he could talk freely.

  None of the Buchenwald airmen were doing particularly well at Stalag Luft III. The restricted rations weren’t sufficient to rebuild their strength, and each had lingering medical concerns. Fred’s vermin bites and ulcerated feet had largely healed, but his mouth still ached, and he was missing 13 teeth. The hard black German bread was unkind even to healthy teeth, and Fred learned early on that when he gnawed on a hard chunk, he could feel his remaining teeth shifting in place.

  The only indoor activity Fred was enthusiastic about was writing letters home and waiting (and waiting, and waiting) for a reply. Kriegies could send four postcards and three letters each month. All outgoing and incoming mail was heavily censored. Fred’s first letter home, sent in early November, did not reach Brooklyn until late January. It read:

  Dear Lu,

  Hello again. How are you and everyone at home? It’s been a long time since you’ve heard about me but now everything is OK. Sam and I were finally taken prisoner and are now in a prisoner of war camp and in good health. Please get in touch with the Red Cross and find out what types of packages and how much you can send and send the limit in food, candy, and tobacco. I don’t remember Betty’s address and since we are limited in our letters I’ll just keep writing to you. The setup here isn’t bad at all and there is nothing to worry about as far as I am concerned. Give my love to all and I’ll write as often as I can.

  Love to all,

  Fred

  Fred got no response to his letter, nor did he receive any of the parcels from home that sometimes arrived for other Kriegies. He did get the news each day when summaries were narrated by runners, who relayed information from one barracks to the next. The episodic arrival of news from Britain helped them better assess the war news posted on bulletin boards by the Germans, which largely consisted of glowing accounts of Nazi victories.

  On 10 November, the news grapevine that operated within Stalag Luft III reported that Lt. Robert A. Burke, assigned to North Compound, had died in the hospital from untreated pneumonia. He had been sick with a fever and a severe cough for ten weeks before admission. Alt
hough he had repeatedly pleaded to be taken to the hospital, the Germans had refused. Instead of hospitalizing him, they sent aspirin and cough syrup to his barracks. It was not the first time that neglect had killed a sick airman, and one had died under similar circumstances earlier in the year.

  Later in the month, the grapevine brought the news that the Buchenwald airmen left behind in the hospital tent had finally arrived at Stalag Luft III, and that they were being distributed to North and Center Compounds.99 Shortly thereafter, Fred heard that a fellow American, Lt. Beck, had died in the medical tent on the same day the main group had left Buchenwald. Fred’s nightmares that night were even worse than usual. It so easily could have been him.

  It had become brutally cold, and frostbite was now a hazard at appell. In response, Fred wrapped cloths around his feet, stuffed them in his shoes, and then wrapped cloths around his shoes as well. Although roughly one-third of the airmen suffered frostbite injuries of one kind or another in late November and early December, Fred was not among them. On 4 December, the weather warmed, and while outside, Fred caught glimpses of a formal ceremony underway in North Compound, where a memorial was dedicated to the airmen executed by the Gestapo following the March escape.

  The canaries were reporting that the Russians were advancing across Poland, so the liberation of Stalag Luft III was a real possibility. The news stimulated a lively discussion of what it could mean — whether the Germans would stay and fight, evacuate the camp, or execute the POWs. In expectation of an evacuation, Fred started leaving the barracks to do laps around the perimeter. He knew how weak he had become, and he wanted to strengthen his legs.

  Soon thoughts were focused on Christmas. Any remaining hordes of food or spices were tapped in preparation for a grand dinner, and the arrival of some Christmas Red Cross parcels helped immeasurably. On Christmas Eve, the theater held a performance of Handel’s Messiah, followed by Christmas carols sung by POWs together with the guards and prison staff attending the festivities. After the men left the theater and the compound was locked down, one of the secreted radios broadcast a Christmas message from the POWs to their families in the US. The message was received, recorded, relayed to the US, and rebroadcast on Christmas day by radio stations scattered across the country.

  The excitement of Christmas temporarily overshadowed the news reports concerning the continued advance of Nazi forces at the Ardennes, in what would become known as the Battle of the Bulge. That news was followed by reports of the massacre of over 100 US troops by SS units after the Americans had surrendered. The POWs were outraged, and some of the Luftwaffe guards expressed their dismay that fellow Germans would perform such a dishonorable act. Neither Fred nor any of the other Buchenwald airmen were surprised at all.

  Fred had accepted the general view among the POWs that the war was in its final stages, and that between the American and British forces to the West and the Russians to the East, Germany’s defeat was only a matter of time — months at most, and perhaps just a few weeks. Suddenly that optimism seemed unfounded. The Germans were trying to sweep behind the Allied troops to cut their supply lines. If the effort succeeded, the encircled forces would have to choose between annihilation and surrender. That could lead to a lengthy stalemate, or even an armistice that left the Nazis in power, validated their control of occupied territory, and left Hitler free to pursue his genocidal goals while rebuilding the Wehrmacht for another attempt at world domination.

  This was not a prospect that made for a happy new year. Of course, it was out of Fred’s hands — all he could do was sit tight, fret, and hope for the best. If he hadn’t already had trouble sleeping, the thought of concentration camps like Buchenwald being established on Long Island would certainly have kept him up at night.

  CHRISTMAS ON THE HOME FRONT

  As Christmas approached, the mood stateside was more optimistic than it had been in quite a while. The families of the surviving Buchenwald airmen knew that their loved ones were alive, which was a vast improvement over being MIA. The news had reached them less than a month earlier. However, the families had been busily corresponding for almost two months, after the army released the names and addresses of the Jackson crew to their families in October. On receiving the addresses, Lucille immediately began writing to them to see if any had heard news of Fred.

  On 6 November, Lucille received a letter from Mrs. Pennell, Sam Pennell’s mother, asking her to stay in touch and let her know if any news was received about Sam. In this way she learned that Sam, like Fred, was MIA. Two days later (8 November), she heard from Ted Dubenic’s mother, who reported that Ted was at Stalag Luft 4, adding, “He wrote me some time ago and told me of his Buddy, your brother. Ted likes him very much.” Mrs. Dubenic also spoke of her concerns about her other son, who was somewhere in the Pacific on an LST.100 That same day, Lucille heard from Armando Marsilii’s wife, reporting that he was at Stalag Luft 4 with Ted, and doing OK. She also commented that Fred and Mandu were good friends. The next day, 9 November, Lucille got a letter from Mrs. Shaffer, Gerald’s mother, hoping for good news that would never arrive.

  On 11 November, Lucille got a letter from Loren Jackson’s mother, reporting that Loren, Joseph Haught, and Ross Blake were together in Stalag Luft III. She said that Loren had written and said that one member of the crew had been killed, but censors had blacked out the name.101 On 13 November, Lucille heard from Ervin Pickrel’s mother, reporting that Erv was fine and in the same POW camp as Ted and Mandu. A letter from Ross Blake’s mother followed, saying that she had been sending mail and packages to Stalag Luft III for months but had yet to receive a response or acknowledgement. But she hoped Fred and the other men were OK, and reminded Lucille that the plane had not exploded, and that multiple parachutes were seen, so hope remained. When Lucille put the puzzle pieces together, she found that of the ten men in the Jackson crew, three were apparently at Stalag Luft III, three were at Stalag Luft IV, and four remained unaccounted for: Martini, Pennell, Shaffer, and Musquiz. One of the four was dead, but which one?

  Lucille dutifully replied to each of these letters. On 14 November, Mandu’s wife responded with an aside that said much about Fred’s personality, at least in the period before 12 June 1944.

  The night before they shipped out of Drew Field, Mandu and I had dinner out. We met Fred and a few of the other boys. While I was dancing with Fred he told me not to worry about Mandu, that he would take care of him for me. He also said “Oh don’t worry we’ll get in our 30 missions and be home in one month.”

  PS — Chin Up!

  Lucille waited on tenterhooks until, on 9 December, she received a telegram from the War Department stating that her brother was a prisoner of war. It was the best Christmas present she could ask for, and she was crying with relief when she called her sister Betty to give her the news.

  On 26 December, Lucille received a letter from Joseph Haught’s mother, thanking her for her Christmas card and asking if she had heard the Christmas message sent over the radio from the prisoners at Stalag Luft III (she had not). The next day, she received a letter from Mrs. Pennell saying that she was using the labels provided by the War Department to ship parcels containing six cartons of cigarettes, toiletries, socks, handkerchiefs, and other sundries. She added “Sam mentioned Fred in several of his letters and how well he liked him.” So Fred must surely be among friends, but as yet, she had received no word from him. While she waited for a letter, she wrote to Fred each week using the address provided by the War Department. After a long delay, all of those letters were returned marked Undeliverable.

  88 This prison camp, built and staffed by the Luftwaffe, was originally intended to hold Allied air officers, although it now held officers, noncommissioned airmen, and a few POWs from other services. In the fall of 1944, there were 12,774 POWs at Stalag Luft III. Of that number, 6,387 were Americans; 5,869 officers and 518 NCOs.

  89 The Geneva Conventions require that whenever possible, prisoners should be grouped by service and nationality.
By this point in the war that policy was recognized but the rule wasn’t absolute. Due to overcrowding, prisoners were sometimes assigned to a compound on a space-available basis.

  90 Sgts. Bowen, Coats, Friel, Heimerman, Horrigan, Johnson, Ludwig, O’Masters, Pacha, Paxton, Pelletier, Reynolds, Richey, Roberson, Scharf, Scott, Shearer, Suddock, Vallee, Watson, Williams, and Zeiser.

  91 Under the Geneva Conventions, officers could not be assigned to forced labor details, but noncoms had no such protection.

  92 A POW who saw them arrive later said, “They were on the verge of pneumonia and were actually starved. They were in a dazed condition and looked like they didn’t care if they lived or died.”

  93 Simple mattresses of this kind were called palliasses.

  94 This could reflect an escape attempt, but typically it was caused by prisoners tricking the guards for a laugh.

  95 The abbreviations used for military ranks are those used in WWII. Today Clark’s rank would be indicated as Lt. Col. or LTCOL

  96 On the night of 24-25 March 1944, 76 POWs from North Compound made it into the forest before their tunnel opening was discovered. The 50 airmen recaptured by the Gestapo were executed on Hitler’s orders. Their ashes were returned to the camp, and the POWs permitted to build a memorial to them in North Compound.

  97 LtC. Clark prepared a report that summarized the information obtained from the sergeants and sewed it into the lining of his coat for safekeeping. It reached the authorities in late April 1945. However, on 7 November 1944, S/L Philip Lamason, held in North Compound, gave a lengthy report to the Swiss Delegation during a periodic camp inspection. As a result, detailed information concerning the Buchenwald airmen reached the Allies three weeks after their transfer to SL III.

  98 The twin-engine B-26 wasn’t in contention — it lacked the range, bomb load, and altitude of its larger brethren — and South Compound held only two (Don Shearer and Paul J. Wilson) of nine Buchenwald airmen who flew the B-26.