Evening star., 1950-09-23

! AoSS WAASoAA4CAAo, do CAtS 4SfCA 4oAl
little engine ground out the dis
tance like an oil-sweaty coffee
mill.
In the Raj aerodrome where
we landed they were in a hustle
of preparation for Christmas
The end of the war seemed in
sight. One could sense the Zest
and anticipation. Young WAAFs
in grey-blue jackets were trotting
among the Nissen huts with rus
tling armfuls of red, yellow and
green paper bells. BuncheS of
the silver ribbon used by bomber
crews to battle enemy radar fes-
tooned the camp. Airmen wers
shouting boisterously across the
tarmac.
stood dazed. A plump, moth
erly girl beamed as she passed.
Her capable arms were laden with
dozens of tiny parcels wrapped in
festive, hollyprinted paper.
New Lease on Life.
Merry Christmas, sir!" she
called. I responded in a voice that
did not sound to be my own.
England once more and
was waiting to die.
Two days later I stood in Har-
ley street, London, while Christ
mas snowflakes melted on my coat
sleeve. I wondered whether to
laugh or cry. For a specialist had
overhauled my diagnosis. given me
barium meal. taken those COM
plicated mechanical tests of a
mans insides that field hospitals
are not equipped to provide.
"a bad dose of intestinal
trouble" was his eventual ver-
dict. And complete exhaustion
It'll be a slow cure-perhaps a
couple of months or more. But
nothing worse"
That news left me numb. Relief
came slowly like blood tingling
back to cramped foot. I had no
urge to be glad or to laugh. I was
to live, and it seemed as if some
one had withdrawn heavy metal
helmet from my head. AS If the
air in his richly-furnished study
had become more thin and breath
able. That was all. But it was
enough. not to die.
Showed Death Warrant
I smiled family and showed him
my death warrant" He clicked
his tongue. can understandable
diagnosis. perhaps" he said, "but
how you must have suffered!'
held out my hand for the
paper. From NV on" I said,
this will be my most cherished
souvenir" It still is.
BY earliest summer I was back
in Holland. where the advancing
Allied armies had already liberated
the northern provinces. into the
"Oranje Hotel'-as we ricknamed
our political prison at Scheve-
ningen, near The Hague-had
come that day a captured sergeant
of the Nazi S.S.-"that club with
the rude manners"
He was not a German. His
papers showed Dutch nationality
In full uniform, with an Iron
Cross on his plump chest, he was
put by Canadians in the "collabo-
rationist wing" for me to see.
did not expect much trouble with
him. 1t seemed a straightforward
case. A Dutchman-captured ir
SIS. uniform.
"Well. my dear chap" I sale
politely, "it looks like trouble fol
you. doesn't it?" He looked me
straight in the eye, shook hi.
head stubbornly. "A few rags Of
black cloth-a medal-you think
you condemn me?"
His eyes glittered angrily in hi.
piggy face. LET me tell you," hi
added. 1--WE risked my neck fol
Holland every hour of each day
! for the past three years in thi.
cursed uniform!"
Sergeant Was Hulking Bully.
I smiled and stepped back from
him. He was hulking bully o.
a man, with bulky shoulders. Hi!
arms bulged his uniform sleeves
His hair was bristle- shaved, hi.
cheeks beefy, and I could see thu
latent cruelty in his mouth. Fol
him the sickening privileges O.
being sergeant of the Nazi S. S
must have been a wonderful game
: while it lasted.
Queer way to help ones coun.
try" I said quietly. Tipping tht
Iron Cross that jingled over hi
breast pocket.
"Pah!" grunted the Dutchman
,, Il joined the damned S. S. be.
cause I was told to- was ordered
to join, you see-by an officer O.
the Secret Service"
"Really?" I began to be in
,, terested. His bullish wrath quiet
ened. He smiled cunningly. ever,
MONTH" he said, II met Dutcl
Military Intelligence agent a
Rotterdam, at the quayside-th
Boompjes. I told him what
knew. He told me what next wa
to be discovered. This dangerou
work I did for Holland-and nov
they fling me into jail"
Element of Doubt Appears.
who was the agent you met?
III asked. He shook his croppet
bullet head in angry despair
= Surely you, sir-an officer of tn
Intelligence-know we'll enougl
that we do not use names in tha
sort of job? And, how would
find him now?"
I did not believe his story, bu
: a court-martial might. Their
| was a possibility of REASONABLE
doubt about it, and he might wei
get away with such tale.
, He knew it, too. He could reat
in my eyes what I had just beel