The Kammersee Affair

by John Holt

  The Major took a deep breath. This was taking a lot longer than he had hoped. “Explain yourself, Corporal,” said the Major. “And be quick about it.”

  “Sir, the idea of the dog tags is to identify a soldier who has been killed. With that in mind, soldiers were, and indeed, are required to wear them at all times, even in the shower. Is that correct, sir?”

  Where was this leading? “Yes corporal, that is correct,” the Major replied. “So what’s your point?”

  “It can be assumed that Private Roberts would have been wearing his tags at all times. All the way from Sicily, and right through Italy, he would have worn them. Whilst asleep he would have worn them.”

  Davidson paused, for effect. “He would have been wearing them even when he fell into that lake.”

  He stopped, watching the Major, who was now much more attentive. “That being the case, the tags would have sunk to the bottom, with him. It would not have been possible for them to be found lying on the ground anywhere.”

  “They could have broken off, and fallen before Roberts fell into the lake,” the Major reasoned. “That’s possible isn’t it?”

  “Certainly, that is possible, sir,” replied Davidson. “However, please take a look at these photographs of the tags.”

  Davidson handed the photographs to the Major. “If you look at that one, sir,” he said pointing to the top photograph. “You will see that the tag containing the soldier’s name has, indeed, been severely damaged. However, the damage hasn’t been done by simply falling on to the ground.”

  The Major looked at the photograph, and agreed with the Corporal. “Go on.”

  “Sir, I cannot be one hundred percent sure. I am not an expert in this kind of thing. However, you can see that there is a substantial indentation on the tag, and that the centre area has been obliterated. Sir, I believe that the damage has been caused by a bullet, fired from behind, and passing through the upper chest, hitting the tag.”

  Realisation began to dawn on the Major’s face. He pressed the button on his intercom.

  “Corporal Wheeler, cancel all of my appointments for the rest of the day. And send in Lieutenant Miller, on the double. And tell him that I need all of the details relating to a report, issued in March 1945 on the death of Private Terence Roberts, serial number 749/248784. Tell him to bring the file with him.”

  * * *

  A few moments later Lieutenant Miller was shown into the room. He had the file in his hand. He saluted and handed the file to the Major.

  “Okay Tom let’s see what we have here,” said the Major as he opened the file and started to read.

  After he had finished reading he closed the file and looked up. “This report states quite clearly that Private Roberts was killed by enemy fire, on March 4 1945, and that he fell into Lake Toplitz,” the Major said. “We now have completely contradictory evidence, to show that he was shot in the back, and died in the area of Lake Kammersee.”

  “Right,” said the Lieutenant. “Who lodged the original report?”

  “A Sergeant Kadowski of the Pathfinders,” said Corporal Davidson. “He and a small reconnaissance unit were on patrol in the Lake Toplitzsee area. They apparently came under fire, and four soldiers were tragically killed, including Roberts. The report was confirmed by Corporal Bannister, Private Bartelli, and a Private Scott.”

  “Okay, Tom, get all four in here as quickly as you can. I have some questions I want to ask them, and I want this matter cleared up quickly,” said the Major. “Set up a formal hearing.”

  “Right, sir,” said the Lieutenant, as he turned to leave.

  “By the way say nothing to the press section just yet,” said the Major.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The Hearing

  Ten o’clock the letter had said. Report to Room 428 at ten. There was just ten minutes to go when Bannister arrived at the door to the designated room. He knocked and went in. As he entered the room the Duty Sergeant looked up.

  “Good morning, sir,” he said. “How can I help you?”

  Bannister approached the reception counter and handed over the letter that he had received, requesting his presence that day. The Sergeant glanced at the document, and entered the details on the day’s log.

  “Mr. Bannister. Thank you for coming,” the Sergeant said. “Would you please sign in just here sir?” He pointed to a large book at the end of the counter.

  Bannister entered his name into the book. “Sergeant,” he said. “Can you tell me what this is all about?”

  The Sergeant looked directly at Bannister, and simply said, “No, sir.”

  “Sergeant, is that a, can’t tell me, or is it a, won’t tell me?” asked Bannister.

  “Sir, that’s a, can’t tell you,” the Sergeant responded. “I’m afraid that I have no idea why you are here, sir. The Major hasn’t taken me into his confidence.”

  Bannister knew that he would get nothing more from the Sergeant. “Okay, Sergeant,” he said. “I’ve signed in, now what?”

  “Thank you, sir,” the Sergeant replied. “Would you please make your way to the Waiting Room, and I expect that you will be called shortly.”

  Bannister looked questionably at the Sergeant.

  The Sergeant pointed to the door. “Turn left, along the corridor, second on the left.”

  Bannister thanked him and left the room. He turned into the corridor and a short distance away he found the Waiting Room.

  * * *

  The waiting room was plain with a high ceiling. It was painted a bright cream. Around the walls were a number of pictures, generally of military hardware. Seats were provided along three of the walls. Along the fourth wall was a small table containing a selection of magazines. In the corner was a small vending machine.

  Bannister went over to the machine, and selected a coffee. White, no sugar. He picked up one of the magazines, and sat down in the corner seat. A few minutes later the door opened and in walked Bartelli, turning to close the door behind him.

  “Tony, what are you doing here?” Bannister asked in astonishment.

  Bartelli was startled. He had not seen his friend as he entered the room. He quickly turned to face the direction from which the voice had come. “Tom,” he exclaimed. “What a surprise. It’s great to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you,” said Bannister. “What is it, almost ten years now?”

  “That’s right,” said Bartelli. “Haven’t seen you since Rooney’s bar.”

  “It’s certainly been a long time,” said Bannister. “We’ve a lot to talk about.”

  “You can say that again,” said Bartelli, as he paced around the room. He was nervous, unsure. “What’s this all about, do you know? What are we doing here?”

  “I don’t know, Tony,” Bannister replied. “All I know is that I received a letter requesting me to come. The following day I was visited by two Military Policemen, who made the same request.”

  Bartelli stopped pacing, and sat down a short distance from Bannister. “Same here,” he said. “And we know that when an MP makes a request, it’s an order that you couldn’t refuse.”

  “Strange isn’t it?” said Bannister. “Neither of us is in the army anymore. In fact we haven’t been for ten years. Yet an MP can still make us quake. We still jump to follow his orders.”

  “It’s the training, I suppose,” said Bartelli. “You can take the man out of the army.”

  “But you can’t take the army out of the man,” Bannister completed the saying. “That’s absolutely right. It still doesn’t tell us why we are here, though.”

  They sat quietly for a moment, reflecting on the past, and wondering what this meeting was all about. Suddenly the door opened once again.

  It was Sergeant Kadowski. He was in a wheelchair, which was being pushed by an attractive young lady. The other two men got up, and quickly went to his side, Bannister holding the door open, to allow the chair to pass through.

  “Can I help you Miss?” Bartelli asked.
<
br />   “Oh no, thank you,” the young lady replied. “I can manage. I’m well used to it.”

  The door closed behind them, and they all sat down.

  Bartelli looked at the Sergeant, and looked at the chair. He couldn’t believe what had happened to his tough guy Sergeant.

  “It’s okay, Tony,” Kadowski looked at Bartelli, and he could see the moisture in his eyes. “I got sick, and I’m stuck in this chair, that’s all, no big deal.” He turned his face, and brushed away a small tear that was forming. “Now what’s this all about?” he said lightly.

  “We only need Scott, for the reunion to be complete,” said Bartelli. “Is George coming you think?”

  “No Tony, I’m sorry to say that George won’t be coming,” said Bannister slowly. “He was killed in Germany, in 1946.”

  Bartelli let out a gasp. “George dead,” he whispered. “I can’t believe it.” He sat down, and looked over at Kadowski. “What happened?”

  Bannister did not know any details, all he knew was that George had died somewhere in Germany. “It might have been a car accident, or something,” he replied. “A newspaper reporter I know heard a brief report from someone, or somewhere. You know one of his contacts. He knew that George and I had been in the same army unit. He told me. Unfortunately he had not received any more details than what I’ve just told you.”

  “Poor old George,” Kadowski finally said. “You know I always thought something bad would happen, but I hadn’t expected that.”

  * * *

  The door to the waiting area suddenly opened, and an MP entered. “Private Antonio Bartelli,” he called out.

  Bartelli stood up. “That’s me,” he said.

  “They are ready for you. Please come with me.” The MP waited at the door for Bartelli.

  Bartelli looked at the others, smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. “Here we go,” he said.

  “Don’t be nervous, Tony,” said Bannister. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

  Bartelli was unconvinced. He turned and walked toward the door, the MP following and closing the door behind him. The others sat silently and watched as he left the room.

  Bartelli was taken to a room down the corridor. Inside was a large table. On one side of the table sat three officers. On the other side, near the door, there was a single vacant seat. Obviously this was meant for him. The MP signalled for him to be seated. Bartelli was beginning to feel nervous, vulnerable. He sat down. His hands were beginning to sweat.

  “Private Bartelli, I am Major Barnes,” the officer seated in the middle chair said. “This is Lieutenant Miller, on my right and on the end is my secretary.” He waited for Bartelli to get settled. “Thank you for coming,” he continued. “There’s nothing to be alarmed about. It’s just a routine matter which needs checking and clarifying. It shouldn’t take too long, and I’m sure that it will all be cleared up in no time. Lieutenant Miller has a few questions he would like to ask, and my secretary will take some notes. How does that sound to you? Okay, Lieutenant, over to you…”

  “Private Bartelli, I would like to thank you for coming, and I am sure that you are going to be a great help to me.” Bartelli was beginning to feel more relaxed. This wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  “Toward the end of March 1945, you and others of your unit were sent to Lake...” he stopped and looked at his notes. “Lake Toplitzsee in Austria, is that correct?”

  “Yes sir,” Bartelli replied. “We were told that the Germans had a weapons testing facility located at the lake. We were ordered to investigate and report back to headquarters.”

  “Thank you, Bartelli, that is very helpful,” the Lieutenant said encouraging the Private, and trying to make him feel at ease. “As you arrived in the area, can you tell me what happened?

  “Yes sir,” Bartelli smartly replied. “The unit came under enemy fire. We had been told to be careful, but we had not expected to come under attack.

  “Sadly, four of your friends were killed on that occasion. Is that correct?”

  “It is, sir,” Bartelli replied more subdued now, and much quieter. The memory was vivid in his mind.

  “I’m sorry, Mr Bartelli, I didn’t quite hear what you said. Could you repeat your answer?”

  “That is correct, sir,” Bartelli stated firmly. “Four of our friends died.”

  “The official notification, submitted by your Sergeant, states that on that day, Reynolds, Chandler, Morris, and,” once again the Lieutenant stopped to check his notes. “And Roberts, they all died on that day, at Lake Toplitzsee. Is that correct?”

  Bartelli started to reply, but hesitated. He thought of Roberts lying dead next to Lake Kammersee, not Toplitzsee. He was suddenly unsure of himself, hesitant. What did he know? His Sergeant seemed to think it best to keep with their story, but he knew it wasn’t true. It’s probably not that important anyway. It hardly matters what lake we are talking about. The main point is that Roberts died. “Yes, it is, sir,” his voice beginning to fail.

  “Thank you, Mr Bartelli. I have one last question. Could you confirm the names of the others, in your group, who survived that day?”

  Bartelli gave the names. The Major thanked him. He was instructed not to discuss the hearing with the others, and he was discharged. Bartelli stood up, turned smartly and walked to the door, which was being held open by the MP.

  * * *

  “Senator Bannister,” the MP announced as the door to the waiting area opened once more. Bartelli and Kadowski looked at each other, then looked across at Bannister, and in unison simply said “Senator?”

  Bannister stood up. As he did so he looked at his two companions, and silently mouthed “Yes that’s right.”

  He had become Senator for the State of Texas eighteen months ago, at his third attempt to get elected.

  “Here I am Corporal,” he said.

  The MP signalled him to the door. He was ushered out of the room, the door closing behind him and the MP. Nothing was said as they marched down the corridor to the meeting room.

  * * *

  Major Barnes thanked Bannister for coming, and invited him to sit down. He then made the formal introductions. “Now Senator,” he said. “There’s nothing to be concerned about. We just need to straighten up what appears to be a slight discrepancy, probably an administrative error. I’m sure it will be perfectly simply. What do you say, Lieutenant?” The Lieutenant nodded to signify his agreement.

  The major looked at Bannister and nodded. “The Lieutenant will ask a few questions, and my secretary, Corporal Wheeler, will keep a record of what is said. Is that alright?”

  Bannister said nothing, but simply nodded.

  “Senator, what can you tell me with regard to the unfortunate death of Private Roberts?”

  Bannister wasn’t quite prepared for the question. He hesitated for a few moments. “He was shot by a sniper, sir,” he replied. When we were at Lake Kamm…. Toplitzsee.” He hoped that the slip had not been noticed.

  “I’m sorry Senator I didn’t quite hear your response,” the Lieutenant said, knowing exactly what Bannister had said. “Could you repeat it for me, for the record?”

  Bannister knew that he had made a mistake by mentioning a sniper. Maybe the officer hadn’t actually heard him say the word.

  “Yes sir, certainly,” Bannister continued. “Terry, that is Private Roberts, was shot by enemy gunfire at Lake Toplitzsee, along with Privates Reynolds, Chandler, and Morris.”

  “Fine, that seems to agree with the formal report submitted by Sergeant Kadowski,” said the Lieutenant. “Could you now tell me who else was there at the time?”

  “Well sir, apart from Sergeant Kadowski, and myself the only other survivors were Privates Bartelli, and Scott.”

  “We have already interviewed Private Bartelli,” the Lieutenant replied. “What can you tell me about Private Scott? For example do you know of his present whereabouts?”

  “Sadly, George, that is, Private Scott is dead, sir,” Banniste
r answered slowly, but confidently.

  “Are you aware of the circumstances of his death?” asked the Lieutenant.

  “No sir,” Bannister replied. “I only know that he died less than a year after the end of the war.”

  “You will be sorry, therefore, to hear what I am about to say,” the Lieutenant said. “We have information that he was shot by a German police officer whilst trying to avoid capture. He was trying to get to the Danish border.”

  “I didn’t know that, sir,” said Bannister quite truthfully.

  “Yes, a most unfortunate affair,” said the Lieutenant. “We have made further enquiries, and it seems that Private Scott had previously murdered someone.”

  The blood drained from Bannister’s face. His body started to shake, and he felt physically sick.

  “Are you all right, Senator? Would you care for a glass of water?” The Lieutenant signalled to the MP, to fetch a glass. Bannister said that he was all right, and declined the water.

  “Shall I continue?” asked the Lieutenant, and looked to the Major for guidance.

  “Continue,” said the Major.

  The Lieutenant looked back at Bannister. “It appears that the person he killed was,” he stopped for effect, ostensibly checking his notes, “Dietrich Hartman, a Major in the SS. Interestingly enough we have discovered that Hartman was the security officer at the test site at Toplitzsee. Furthermore, he was stationed there at exactly the same time as Robert’s death.”

  Bannister was shocked, and said nothing.

  “That will be all,” the Lieutenant said. “You may go.”

  * * *

  When Bannister returned to the waiting room he was very quiet, and said nothing. He was ashen faced, and visibly shaking. The others asked what was wrong, but he made no reply.

  A few moments later the door opened once again and Kadowski was called into the room.

  The Major gave a brief outline as to the reason for the questioning. He then asked Kadowski if he would explain the circumstances that led to his group being at Toplitzsee on the day in question.