Winfred

119

Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

June 18, 1944: six days

The French resistance was in full swing. There was fighting in the larger cities, including Cherbourg and Paris.

The evacuation of the prison began.

Freidrich was out in the courtyard, preparing a group of prisoners to board the train and make their way back towards Germany and out of France.

Jessica was one of those prisoners.

I was on my way to say goodbye to her when I was stopped by someone blocking my path at the end of the hallway.

Schwab.

"Hello," he said, in English, grinning maliciously at me. He gestured to a badge he was wearing. "Do you like it?" he said. "I've been promoted. I am now a lieutenant. My task is to test the language proficiencies of soldiers, secretaries, and officers here at the prison, in order to know which placement would suit them best once the prison is emptied." His eyes narrowed. "If you'll step this way..." He gestured to the open door nearby. "It will only take a bit."

On the inside, I was fearful. I wondered exactly what the test would entail. I followed him inside the small room and he shut the door.

"It's a simple test," he said, setting down the folder he had been carrying. "You only need respond to my questions in the language I use to ask them. If you don't know the language, then you need not respond." He looked at the paper. "Now...Let us begin."

I waited, my hands folded in my lap. My grip was sweaty, and I felt entirely too warm. I held my breath as Schwab began to speak.

"Wie ist dein name?"

I swallowed. "Mein name is Ilsa Schulz."

So far so good.

"Ce est votre profession?"

French. A question asking me what my occupation was. I decided to pretend I did not learn the language, as Schwab did not know that I did, and that may be an advantage to me when I had to leave and make my escape. If they searched for me, they would not be looking for someone speaking French.

So I tilted my head to one side and looked puzzled. Schwab nodded and wrote something down on his clipboard.

"Where are you from?"

I froze. I had never perfected English with a German accent. I had never needed to. With soldiers and officers, I spoke German. Freidrich and Pirot did not care what accent I had, because I only ever spoke to them in private.

"Berlin," I said, shortly, quickly and with my best attempt at the proper accent.

Schwab frowned, and looked at his watch, before clearing his throat. "English is an important language to be able to speak. French is not necessary, and German is obviously your native language. Learning English is of tantamount importance to be able to communicate with prisoners of war. Therefore, the testing of English will be more...rigorous...than anything else."

I tried to keep from fidgeting.

"Who is the commander of this prison?"

"Captain Freidrich Von Steubon," I said. Again, I kept my answers as short as possible, using only the words I had heard over and over again in a German accent and hoping I could imitate that accent well enough.

"What is your occupation?"

"I am his secretary."

"Have you ever been out of the country, aside from to France?"

"No," I said.

"Not even across the channel to England?"

I was momentarily caught off guard, but I hid it, answering immediately, almost too quickly. "No," I said.

Schwab noted something, then closed his file, reaching for a nearby document. "Speaking English is one thing, but reading it is another. To test your reading skills, please read me this news article, detailing the capture of several British spies."

I swallowed, but nodded, and began to read the article, trying the whole time to keep my accent correct and going somewhat slowly.

At the bottom of the article, there were names.

One of them was Kathleen Winfred. When I got to the names, I read over my own as if it did not matter...as if it were the name of someone else of whom I knew nothing.

"Very...good..." said Schwab, maliciously, once I finished. "You may go now."

By the time I got outside, the prisoners were gone, and I was not able to say goodbye to Jessica.

I sat down at the edge of the unused fountain in the courtyard and mentally cursed Schwab, part of me unable to believe that she was really gone and I had not been able to say goodbye.