'What do the Krauts want with him?'
'Hey, anybody know what fer Christ's sake is going on?'
Tommy kept quiet. Now his curiosity was racing, fueled by the voices around him. It's all very strange, he thought.
Strange because it is out of the ordinary. Strange because nothing like this has ever happened before.
The men continued grumbling and muttering for nearly another hour. By now, whatever morning was going to penetrate the gloomy skies had managed its weak efforts and whatever warmth the day could promise had arrived. Not much. Tommy thought. The men were hungry. Many had to go to the toilets. All were wet and cold.
And all were curious.
A few moments later, Fritz Number One again appeared at the gate. The guards opened it and he half-ran through, heading straight for the men from Hut 101. Fritz Number One was slightly red-faced, but there was nothing in his approach that indicated anything about what was going on.
'Lieutenant Hart,' he said, coughing back short gasps of breath, 'would you please come with me now to the commandant's office?'
From directly behind him, Tommy heard a man whisper, 'Tommy, get the lowdown on what's going on, will ya?'
'Please, Lieutenant Hart, right away, please,' Fritz Number One pleaded.
'I do not like to keep Herr Oberst Von Reiter waiting.'
Tommy stepped forward to the ferret's side.
'What's going on, Fritz?' he asked quietly.
'Just to hurry please, lieutenant. The Oberst will explain.'
Fritz Number One was quick-marching through the gate.
Tommy stole a rapid glance around him. The gate creaked as it swung shut behind his back, and he had the distinctly eerie sensation that he was walking directly through a door that he'd never known existed. He wondered for a moment whether the sensation he felt at that second was the same as what the men who bailed out of their stricken planes experienced, as they tumbled free into the cold, clear air, everything they'd known before as familiar and safe abruptly cut away from them in that instant of panic, leaving only the single passionate desire to live. He decided it was.
He took a deep breath, and hurried up the wooden steps to the commandant's office, his boots resounding off the floor like a volley of rifle shots.
On the wall directly behind the commandant's desk was the obligatory full-color portrait of Adolf Hitler. The artist had captured the Fuhrer with a distant, exulting look in his eyes, as if he were searching Germany's idealized future and saw it to be perfect and prosperous. Tommy Hart thought it was a look few Germans had anymore.
B-17s in the daytime and Lancasters at night in repeated waves make the future look less rosy. To the right of the portrait of Hitler was a smaller picture of a group of German officers standing beside the charred and twisted wreckage of a Russian Topolev fighter. A smiling Von Reiter was in the. center of the group in the photograph.
The commandant, however, wore no smile as Tommy walked to the center of the small room. Von Reiter was seated behind his oaken desk, a telephone at his right hand, some loose papers on the blotter in front of him, next to the ubiquitous riding crop. Colonel MacNamara and
Major Clark stood to his left. There was no sign of Lieutenant Scott.
Von Reiter stared across at Tommy and took a sip from a delicate china cup of steaming ersatz coffee.
'Good morning, lieutenant,' he said.
Tommy clicked his heels together and saluted. He stole a single glance at the two American officers, but they were standing aside, their posture alert, but at ease. They, too, wore stern, rigid expressions.
'Herr Oberst,' Tommy answered.
'Your superiors have some questions for you, lieutenant,' Von Reiter said. His English was accented but excellent, every bit as good as
Fritz Number One's, although the ferret could probably have passed for American with the slang he'd acquired slinking around the American compound. Tommy doubted the aristocratic Von Reiter was interested in learning the words to 'Cats on the Roof.' Tommy half-turned to face the two Americans.
'Lieutenant Hart,' Colonel MacNamara began slowly.
'How well do you know Captain Vincent Bedford?'
'Vic?' Tommy replied.
'Well, we're in the same hut. I've made trades with him. He always gets the better of the bargain.
I've spoken with him a few times about home, and complained about the weather or the food ' 'Is he a friend of yours, lieutenant?' Major
Clark abruptly demanded.
'No more, no less than anyone in the camp, sir,' Tommy answered sharply. Major Clark nodded.
'And,' Colonel MacNamara steadily continued, 'how would you characterize your relationship with Lieutenant Scott?'
'I have no relationship, sir. No one does. I made an effort to be friendly, but that was it.'
MacNamara paused, then asked: 'You witnessed the altercation between the two men in their bunk room?'
'No sir. I arrived after the men had been separated, only seconds before yourself and Major Clark entered the room.'
'But you heard threats made?'
'Yes sir.'
The SAO nodded.
'And then, I'm told, there was a subsequent incident at the wire…'
'I would not characterize it as an incident, sir. Perhaps a misunderstanding of the rules that might have had fatal results.'
'Which, I'm told, you prevented by shouting a warning.'
'Perhaps. It happened swiftly.'
'Would you say that this incident served to increase or further exacerbate already tense feelings between the two officers?'
Tommy paused. He had no idea what the men were driving at, but told himself to keep his answers short. He could see that both Americans and the German were paying close attention to everything he said. He warned himself inwardly to be cautious.
'Sir, what's going on?' he asked.
'Just answer the question, lieutenant.'
'There was tension between the men, sir. I believe it was racial in nature, although Captain Bedford denied that to me in one conversation.
Whether it was increased or not, I wouldn't know.'
'They hated each other, correct?'
'I could not say that.'
'Captain Bedford hates the Negro race and made no effort to hide that fact from Lieutenant Scott, is that not true?'
'Captain Bedford is outspoken, sir. On any number of topics.'
'Would you think it safe,' Colonel MacNamara asked slowly, 'to say that Lieutenant Scott would likely have felt threatened by Captain
