The escape game, p.21
The Escape Game, page 21
“When it comes to attention, he’s not particular,” Mum said, smiling. “As long as he and Elinor are happy, I’m happy too.”
“Did you inquire of anyone at Temple Newsam about Mr. Dowd?”
“Yes, they knew who he was but didn’t know anything about his family besides his wife. But his health had gotten poor in the last two years, so he didn’t go as regularly to docent as he had before.” Mum shook her head. “Did you check the post office to see if they’d gotten any mail?”
“Yes, but nothing has shown up.”
The telephone rang, and Beryl ran to the foyer to answer it. When she lifted the receiver, she barely got the word “hello” out before Veronica’s excited voice interrupted.
“Beryl! I’ve got the most wonderful news! Rodney’s ship is going to be in port for repairs, and he wants to get married while he’s in the country!”
“Oh my goodness, Veronica! How exciting! When?”
“He said he can only get leave for two days, so he plans to come next weekend.”
“Next weekend? So soon?”
“Yes! Mum is in a state worrying about how to prepare for the wedding in such a short time. Can you please help?”
“Of course I can. Shall I come over there, or do you want to come here to set up plans?”
“I’ll come over there. It will be better if we can make some decisions without Mum going into a flurry.”
“All right. Are you coming now?”
“Be right over.”
Beryl hurried to the kitchen to tell Mum Veronica’s news. She picked up the parts of the Monopoly game and put it away. Playing the game would be the least of Veronica’s interests right now. Beryl was eager to share her friend’s excitement. It wasn’t the first time they’d talked about their future weddings, sharing dreams about that perfect day when they’d marry the perfect man. But Veronica got engaged first, and her wedding had been delayed by the war.
Veronica showed up at the house in record time, carrying magazines and a notebook. Beryl embraced her in a big hug.
“I’m so happy for you, Veronica!”
Mum greeted her with a big smile and gave her a hug too.
“So, you’re getting married next weekend? My, that’s not much time to get ready for a wedding. What is your mum doing? I’ll help any way I can.”
“Thank you.” Veronica blew out a breath. “I left her arguing with Dad about what to wear. He’s going to call the church today and arrange the time for the ceremony.”
The women headed to the kitchen, but their excited chatter apparently woke Mrs. Dowd. She stood at the door of the sitting room holding Spitfire.
“What’s all this about?” she said as they walked past her.
“Veronica’s wedding!” Beryl shouted her words.
Mrs. Dowd followed them into the kitchen. “A wedding, did you say? Who’s getting married?”
Mum and Beryl both looked at her and said, “Veronica!”
Veronica waved her hand. “I am.”
“Oh, why didn’t you say so?” Mrs. Dowd said.
Mum put the kettle on, then sat at the table with the other women. Veronica opened the magazines, which had articles about wartime brides. She spread them out on the table, pointing to various pictures of brides and weddings.
“I’d love to have this,” she said, pointing to a picture filled with white flowers. “But we can’t get those flowers this time of year, especially this quickly.”
Beryl pointed to a bride. “What kind of dress are you going to wear?”
“Mum wants me to wear her old wedding dress, but I was thinking of something newer, like this knee-length cocktail dress with a matching coat. It’s rather chilly weather now, and I can wear the coat for our going away.”
“Where are you going to get one so quickly? You can’t make the outfit by this weekend, can you?” Beryl said.
“I can’t make the whole thing myself, but I can make the dress. It’s a basic shift. Can you help me make the coat?”
“I can do that,” Mum said. “But won’t your mum be disappointed if you don’t wear her dress?”
“Maybe, but I’ll tell her to save it for Nancy’s wedding.”
“Have you seen any material anywhere? You don’t want it made out of blackout curtain fabric.”
“I certainly don’t. I saw some pale pink cashmere at Fitzgerald’s.”
“Then we’d better grab it. It’ll take a lot of fabric for a dress and coat,” Mum said. “We’ll give you our clothing coupons to use.”
Veronica turned to Beryl. “You should wear a dress like mine but in a different color since you’re going to be my maid of honor. You will be, won’t you?”
“Why, of course. We planned that years ago when we were little girls—I’d be your maid of honor and you’d be mine.”
“But now I’ll be a matron of honor instead,” Veronica said.
“No sense talking about my wedding when I don’t even have a boyfriend,” Beryl said.
“Ooh, look at this cake! Isn’t it beautiful?” Veronica said.
“You know sugar is rationed, and now bakeries are restricted from making iced cakes, referring to it as the wanton waste of sugar,” Mum said.
“Look,” Beryl said, peering at the picture. “That isn’t a real cake. It’s a fake one made from cardboard, the kind bakeries put in the windows.”
“What it says here is you make a small cake, then set the fake one over it so it looks good,” Beryl said.
“Do you think Mr. Stewart will let us borrow his cardboard model?” Veronica asked.
“Veronica, if you ask him sweetly and bat those long eyelashes of yours at him, I’m sure he will,” Mum said.
“Don’t forget, chocolate covering is still allowed, and who doesn’t like chocolate?” Beryl said.
“I do love chocolate too, but shouldn’t a wedding cake be white?” Veronica said.
“What if we make a chocolate cake and cover it with the fake white cover? It’ll still look the part and taste good too,” Beryl suggested.
“I like that idea!” Mum said. “We can even make a cherry cake with chocolate icing.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Veronica said. “Yes, let’s do it.”
“What do you plan to wear on your head? A veil? Hat?” Beryl asked.
“Both. A smart little hat with a shoulder-length veil that just covers my head.” Veronica said. “I was thinking about asking Mrs. Findlay if she could make a hat for me to match my dress. She makes such nice hats.”
“I’m sure she would be happy to do that for you,” Mum said.
“You’re not buying new shoes, are you?” Beryl asked.
“No, my church shoes will be fine. I’ll wear my white gloves as well.”
“So you’ll have something old—your shoes and gloves. Something new—your dress and hat… What do you have that is blue?” Mum counted each item on her fingers.
“Rodney will be wearing his uniform, which is dark blue. Does that count?” Veronica asked.
“I assume it could, but it should be something the bride is wearing.”
“I wonder if there are any blue flowers blooming,” Beryl said.
“There aren’t many flowers blooming this time of year, but come to think of it, Mr. Cuthbert’s family farm had a beautiful garden,” Mum said. “They probably have dahlias blooming now. Would you like some for your bouquet? I remember seeing some very pretty pink ones when I was there.”
“They sound lovely. I do hope they have some,” Veronica said wistfully.
Beryl had a sudden thought. “I know what we could do—put some blue ribbon around the bouquet.”
“Perfect,” Mum said.
“So, what will you do for something borrowed?” Beryl asked. “I don’t think I have anything suitable for a wedding, and I doubt you’d like to borrow my nylons.”
Veronica responded with a fake grimace.
Mrs. Dowd had been sitting quietly. Beryl assumed she was trying to take everything in.
“You can wear these for ‘something borrowed.’ “ At the sound of her small, wobbly voice, the women looked at her.
Her fingers fidgeted with the pearl necklace she always wore.
“I used to have more things you could use. I had hats and purses and jewelry. But all of that is gone now. I have this because I never take it off. Harry gave it to me as an engagement gift. These pearls, my wedding ring, and my memories are all I have left of him.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly take them,” Veronica said. “They’re too valuable.”
“You’re just borrowing them,” Elinor said. “You’ll return them to me after your wedding.”
Beryl’s eyes misted at the woman’s offer. Elinor was amazing. Just when Beryl thought Elinor didn’t understand what was going on around her, Elinor surprised her, contributing in unexpected ways. And now she was offering her only possession that survived the bombing, and that only because she was wearing the necklace at the time.
Veronica placed her hand over Elinor’s. “In that case, I’d be honored to wear them.”
CHAPTER 28
Stalag Luft I, Barth, Germany
November 1941
Snow had a way of making everything look cleaner and more picturesque, even a prison compound. But that was the only good thing about the frozen stuff. Once the boots of prisoners walked through it, the beauty turned to ugly brown slush. Kenneth double-timed around the yard with other kriegies in a mock formation, the sole purpose to generate body heat and get warm. Talk was limited as each man puffed out clouds of vapor in rhythm with their footfalls. Kenneth’s lips were already chapped from being outside in the cold, not that he had to go outside to be cold.
The small coal stoves in the hut barely generated enough warmth for one room, much less the whole building. Kenneth’s air vapor could have been steam if his temper had a chance of creating that much warmth. He’d never expected to still be here in prison since his capture five months ago. James kept telling him to pray for patience, but Kenneth guffawed, saying there were a lot of other things he’d rather pray for, that is, if he were a praying man. Patience had never been one of his attributes.
Kenneth had taken on the role of calisthenics leader, and each day he led the men in runs, push-ups, jumping jacks, and stretching exercises. Push-ups couldn’t be done outside when snow was on the ground, but he had enlisted the help of a safe goon to petition the commandant for enough wood and a strong bar to make a couple of pull-up bars. The exercise routine was voluntary, but barracks leaders encouraged the men to participate. Kenneth’s motives weren’t entirely unselfish. He did want to stay in shape, and becoming the leader enforced his commitment. But his other motive, and one Colonel Gilmore strongly supported, was keeping the other men in shape. Not only did the exercise keep them busy, it prepared their bodies for the eventual escape.
When new prisoner Paul Wilson arrived in the camp, he came with a reputation for being somewhat of an expert at escaping. The first time he was a prisoner was in 1939, when his plane had been shot down over France. After multiple attempts, he had escaped his captors and previous camps and made it back to England. He returned to flying, only to have the bad luck to be shot down again a year later during the Dunkirk battle. He spent a year at Dulag Luft, escaping several times only to be recaptured, so the Germans decided to send him to Stalag Luft I. En route, he had escaped his captors twice and might have been sent instead to Colditz Castle, the so-called inescapable prison, had it not been for a last-minute change of plans by the men in charge.
The colonel welcomed him to the camp with great respect for his escape prowess. The two met together at length before word spread that Wilson had been put in charge of the escape committee. A new surge of hope ran through the prisoners, many of whom were on the verge of giving up completely. Kenneth was convinced the biggest motivation for getting out now was food. Wilson did a good job of tantalizing the prisoners’ taste buds as he spoke of the food he ate while free.
He was a stocky, muscular man with thick, wavy black hair, bushy black eyebrows that met in the middle when he frowned, and ice-blue eyes. He had been a wrestler in college before becoming a barrister in England, a profession that made him more eloquent than most fliers. As a result, it took him a short time to impress the commandant with his smooth talk, despite his escape record. When he met with Kenneth to look over his counterfeiting work, Wilson seemed pleased. “Good job, chap! We’ll need quite a few of these—travel permits, gate passes, letters of authorization, and identification cards. We may need to produce some payment books as well.”
“How many men are you planning to break out at once?”
“Twenty or thirty, at least. We’ll organize them to go in pairs in separate directions and in different ways once they’re out.”
“That’s quite a lot.” Kenneth calculated how long it would take to produce so many forgeries. “It’ll take a while unless I can find a few more forgers to help.”
“I understand. It’s better to take the time to get them as authentic as possible. Right now we can take advantage of the bad weather to do the work because it’s a nasty time to escape.”
“I’d like to volunteer myself and my pal James to be in the group that escapes.” Kenneth said. “Do you have a map of the country and know the best routes out?”
“Not from here. We’re much farther east than I’ve been before and nearer to the Baltic coast of Germany. It’s a long way from the French border from here.” Wilson put his hands on his hips. “So, you’re with the Eagle Squadron. I hear you’ve made a few escapes also.”
Kenneth nodded. “Got as far as the train station and the sea, but no farther.”
“But that’s a start and shows possibilities. Glad to have you on the team, Yank.”
“Thanks. I just want to get out of here as soon as possible and stay out next time. I learned what doesn’t work. Do you have any idea where there are safe houses?”
“Not exactly, but I know there are some. When I was back in England, I learned that MI5 is working on some escape routes, and they’ll try to get some maps to the prison camps somehow. I’d never hope for someone to become a prisoner, but perhaps the next one will have more information to help us. It’s been a year since I’ve been out, and I’m sure there’s more organized help outside, if we just know where to find it.”
Organization was one of Wilson’s strengths, and soon the escape committee had become more structured with additional people assigned to specific teams, or “factories,” as he called them. The men were told not to react or question anything they saw one of their fellow kriegies do that might appear curious, because it was part of the scheme.
One of the teams was assigned to lookout, and an alarm system was arranged so that whenever a goon was in an area near a work site, there would be certain types of signals, silent physical actions, used to relay the information. The goons and guards were assigned to two different categories—safe and dangerous. The safe ones were friendly and often helpful by being bribable. The dangerous ones were always looking for prisoner attempts to escape. These were the ones who made sudden searches of the huts. Gooseneck was one of the dangerous ones.
A lookout would send a warning signal as soon as one of the dangerous people was heading toward a particular hut. Often the men working in those huts had less than a minute to hide anything they didn’t want the goon to find.
Another way the security team provided help was by having a German-speaking kriegie follow any dangerous goons around and listen to their conversations. Another method they used was to create a diversion if the goons were too near a tunnel site or work area. They might stage a fight between two kriegies to create a distraction. The fights needed to look authentic, so the guys who engaged in them often received a black eye or knuckles to their cheeks. Another diversionary tactic was to “accidentally” throw a ball over the wire, then call up to the goon box to get the guards’ attention and permission to retrieve the ball without getting shot.
Angus now had a team of costume makers working with him to provide realistic-looking copies of German uniforms as well as everyday street clothes, ranging from peasant wear to businessman attire. The outfits were kept in the theater with other costumes, but the uniforms were hidden in a box that was part of a bench in the audience. James worked with other electricians and engineers to provide light for the diggers. He was also working on a system to provide air to the tunnelers doing such claustrophobic work.
Progress on the tunnels moved rather slowly, sometimes only a few feet a day, as falling sand and cave-ins were a constant problem. More than one digger had received a mouthful of sand and been partially buried alive. Thankfully, the diggers worked one behind the other so that if one got buried, the other could quickly pull him out. In those cases, the work had to start over. And of course, sand disbursal was an ongoing issue. Wilson set up a disbursal committee who retrieved sand from the diggers and sprinkled it on the ground through their pants legs, mixing it in with the other compound dirt. The least suspicious time to do so was while they walked or, even better, participated in games like volleyball and so avoided notice from any goons watching.
Disappointment in the slow progress was a feeling Kenneth fought daily. He tried to distract himself with other thoughts, and often those thoughts went to Beryl. But thinking of her made him even more disappointed that he hadn’t made it out yet. Wilson told them that winter
was the worst time to try to escape because not only would they expose themselves to the elements but snow would show tracks.
The only thing Kenneth looked forward to besides escaping was getting a letter from Beryl. Although she was writing to her brother, she addressed the letter to both of them. Several times a day, he pulled her photo out of his pocket and stared at it, which made him feel more and more familiar with her. “I’ll see you soon, Beryl,” he said to the photo, then kissed it before dropping it back into his pocket.
The next letter they received was as confusing as the last.
“Is that another letter from Beryl?” he asked, seeing the envelope in James’ hand.
