Camp 30 (3 page)

“Where's that?” Jack asked.

“Not far. It's a small town about twenty miles east of here. Very nice little town. I'm sure you'll enjoy it.”

“Did you arrange for the new job?” Jack asked.

“Not me personally, although I knew they were looking for a position for your mother that would involve a relocation.”

“But why do you want us to leave Whitby?” I asked. “We already promised we wouldn't go near the camp again unless you asked us. You gotta believe us.”

“I do believe you. I know you and Jack are men of your word. This is a safety issue … I'd better explain.” He took
a deep breath and then let out an equally loud sigh. “I'm not sure how much you know—or how much I really should be telling you—but we monitor the airways, taking in random radio transmissions.”

“That's what the radio towers are for, right?” I asked. At the camp there was a series of gigantic towers, webbed with wire, that sent and received radio messages. We were told that they could get messages from as far away as Europe.

Bill nodded. “Twelve days ago we intercepted a Nazi message, a
coded
message, a message that we believe originated in this general area.”

“Does that mean that there are still German spies operating around here?”

“They have spies here, George, just as we have spies in Nazi-controlled Europe. They are operating throughout the country.”

“And you want our help to find them?” Jack asked. He sounded as though he couldn't wait.

“I'm afraid it's quite the opposite. I want your help in keeping them away from you.”

“I don't get it,” Jack said, voicing what I was thinking.

“The message that we intercepted mentioned two brothers and Camp X,” Bill explained.

“Us?” I gasped. “They mentioned us in a secret message?”

“We're not certain it has anything to do with you two,” Bill said. “Most likely it refers to something
completely unrelated. There are dozens of different possible interpretations.”

“But you think it might have something to do with us, or you wouldn't be here to begin with,” Jack said.

“There's a chance, and even if it's a very small chance, we mustn't gamble with your lives.”

“Our lives?” I gulped. “You think that they could … they could …?”

Bill didn't answer right away. My gut tightened into a knot.

“I'm not going to lie to you. You know these people mean business. They're cold, calculating killers.”

The knot in my stomach grew larger. I thought back to that deserted farmhouse, my brother and I tied to those chairs, and Mr. Krum holding that gun under orders to kill us.

“There have been deaths caused by Nazi agents,” Bill said.

“Around here?”

“As close as Toronto. Two weeks ago. A woman training as an operative was shot … bullet to the back of the head. It wasn't a robbery—her purse wasn't even touched. Cold, clean assassination.”

“That's awful.” A shudder went through my entire body.

“That's why the two of you and your mother have been under constant surveillance since the message
was decoded. We wanted to take all necessary steps to protect you. But you have to know that we can't keep that many operatives employed watching your family day and night,” Bill said. “And that's why we've arranged this new job and new location for your family.”

“And we'll be safe there?” I asked.

“You'll be safe. Nobody in Bowmanville will know you. We're going to hide you in plain sight.”

“Does our mother know anything about this?” Jack asked. “I mean, about why we're moving?”

“Nothing,” Bill said. “As far as she's concerned, it's simply a better job, with better pay, in a new town. She knows nothing of this, as she has known nothing of anything that's happened to you two.”

“I guess that's better,” Jack said. “There's no point in worrying her.”

“When do we leave?” I asked.

“Your mother starts her new job on Monday morning.”

“But that's only four days from now!” I exclaimed.

“She'll have help packing and moving. It's essential that we proceed as quickly and quietly as possible,” Bill explained. “I hope you understand—we had no choice.”

“We know you're only doing what's best for us,” Jack told him. “And it isn't like this is our home anyway. We've only been here a few months.”

“I'm glad you see it that way,” Bill said. “Now, I better let the two of you get back to delivering your papers. Your mother will be home shortly. Do try to look surprised when she tells you the good news.”

CHAPTER THREE

“
THAT
'
S THE LAST OF THEM
,” I said as I dropped the box onto the kitchen floor—the kitchen of our new house.

“You two must be exhausted!” Mom said.

“We hardly did anything. Especially me,” Jack said, holding up his cast. “You were the one up all night packing these boxes. All we had to do was help move them, and there was lots of help doing that.”

It was true.

A big gray army truck and a half-dozen soldiers had arrived to help us move, courtesy of Colonel Armstrong, our mother's new boss. The whole house had been loaded, and then unloaded, in only a few short hours.

“Well, you both did a wonderful job. And this certainly is a lovely old house,” my mother said, looking around.

“It reminds me of home,” I said. Jack and I had grown up on the family farm, but with Dad off fighting in the
war we couldn't go on working the property. That was why we'd moved to Whitby in the first place, so Mom could take a job at the big D.I.L. plant, making ammunition for the war.

“I know what I like best about the new place,” Jack said.

“What?” I asked.

“Separate bedrooms. I won't have to share a room with you!” he said, pointing at me.

“I'm the one who should be happy. At least I know how to hang up my clothes, and I'm not the one who snores!”

“I don't—!”

“Both of you, stop it!” our mother ordered. “Can't you two ever have a discussion without fighting?”

“We
could,
” I said.

“Yeah, it might happen … someday … maybe,” Jack agreed.

“Rather than fighting, how about if you two go out and explore a little?” she suggested.

Jack shook his head. “We should stay here and help unpack.”

“If you really want to help me get things straightened away, the two of you should go out and leave me in peace.”

“So you're saying the best way we can help is not to help?” I asked.

“At least not right away. I need time to think and a cup of tea to help calm my nerves.”

“But we can't just leave you here working while we're doing nothing,” I said.

She reached over and gave me a kiss on the cheek, and then did the same to Jack. “There are going to be a couple of very lucky girls who land my boys someday.”

“Mom …” I protested.

“Actually, there is something you could do for me,” she said.

“What?” Jack asked.

“I'm going to be walking to work every day, and I don't know exactly how long it's going to take me. You boys could walk there and let me know.”

“We
could
do that,” I said.

“Although it still sounds more like a way to get us out of your hair than anything else,” Jack pointed out.

“It's both. Will you do it?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, and Jack shrugged in agreement.

“Good. You'll have to walk through town, head out along Church Street and go east.”

“You're not working in town?” I asked.

“No, about a mile and a half or two east.”

“That's a fair distance to walk.”

“Hopefully I'll be able to get a ride some days. I was told that many of the people I'll be working with live here in Bowmanville.”

“That's good. Are you sure we'll be able to find this place today?” I asked.

“That shouldn't be a problem. I was told it's a new wooden building. Just beside it will be high fences topped with barbed wire and even taller guard towers.”

“Barbed wire … guard towers?” I questioned.

“Pretty standard for a prisoner-of-war camp. Didn't I tell you that's where I'll be working?”

“No, you didn't!” I gasped.

“I guess it just sort of slipped my mind in all the confusion. Colonel Armstrong is the commander of a prisoner-of-war camp.”

“Camp 30,” I said.

“Yes, that's right. I guess I
did
mention it.”

Jack shot me an angry look. Mom hadn't said anything. We'd known about it longer than she had because Mr. Krum had told us. Of course
he'd
known— he was a spy, after all. But it was classified information to civilians, and I was going to have to do some fast talking to explain myself.

Jack jumped to my rescue. “Sure, you mentioned it. We just didn't know it was a P.O.W. camp, that's all.”

“There are prisoner-of-war camps throughout Canada, but this one is particularly important,” our mother said. “The highest-ranking German officers captured in the war are prisoners there.”

“How many prisoners are there?” Jack asked.

“I'm not really supposed to say much,” she answered. “I had to sign some papers saying I'd keep information quiet.”

“The Official Secrets Act,” I said.

“Yes, that's it! How did you know?”

I didn't even look at Jack, because I knew angry eyes would be staring back at me. “I read all about it in the newspapers. We don't just deliver the paper, you know. I read it all the time.”

“I had to swear not to say anything about my work. I could be fined or go to jail,” she said. “But I guess I can say a few things to my two boys … as long as they don't say anything to anybody else.”

“We wouldn't,” I said.

“Yeah, we're good at keeping secrets … well, at least one of us is.”

“And just what secrets have you been keeping?” my mother asked Jack suspiciously. It was my turn to shoot him the evil eye. But she must have decided to let him off the hook, because she went on to answer his original question.

“I understand there are close to 650 prisoners in the camp.”

“It's scary to think there are that many Nazis that close to us,” I said.

“Just remember, they're inside the fence—actually, inside
two
barbed-wire fences—and there are guards with guns who make sure that they stay there. I was told that there have been no successful escapes.”

“So that must mean there have been
un
successful
attempts,” I reasoned. “The prisoners must be trying to escape all the time.”

“What's the point in even trying?” Jack asked. “Germany is one heck of a long hike and then a swim across the Atlantic Ocean.”

“That's exactly why they moved the prisoners all the way to Canada,” my mother added. “I just don't want you boys worrying about me all day. I'm going to be perfectly safe.”

It all made sense. She'd be surrounded all day by soldiers and guards with guns, so that was a great place for her, a safe place to be.

“Now, why don't you two go and have a look at the camp? And remember, don't walk too fast. I want to know how long it's going to take
me
to get there.”

“There it is,” I said. Up ahead on the left-hand side of the road I could see a high wooden tower rising into the sky. Behind it, faint but still visible, was the outline of a fence, almost as tall.

“So that's where they keep all the stinking Nazis they capture,” Jack said ominously.

“If Krum had been captured instead of killed, would they have put him there?”

“Doubt it. Mom said it was for soldiers, not spies. Spies they just shoot, I think.”

“Really?”

“Bullet to the back of the brain,” Jack said as he pressed a finger against the base of my skull.

I brushed his hand away. “They don't do that,” I said.

“Mr. Krum was going to do that to us,” he argued.

“But that's because he was a Nazi. We treat people fairly.”

Jack laughed. “There's no
fair
in war. You fight evil with evil.”

I wanted to ask, If that was the case, what made us better than them to begin with? but I didn't. I knew that war was a dirty business, and maybe sometimes you had to do things you didn't necessarily want to do.

It had taken us about twenty-five minutes to get there, walking through town and then east along a dirt road with farmers' fields on either side. The camp itself was in the middle of some scrub, a good distance from any farmhouse. As we continued to walk, the features of the camp became clearer. On one side of the road were a few small, ordinary-looking places—maybe offices. But on the other side there were buildings—dozens of brick buildings—behind a fence. Linking the buildings were concrete walkways, and along the walkways, as well as in front of many of the buildings, were beds filled with bright, beautiful flowers. It wasn't what I'd expected a prisoner-of-war camp to look like.

Just as Mom had said, there were two fences, running parallel, about fifteen feet apart. On the top of both
fences were strands of barbed wire, and every few yards there was a light.

Up ahead, outside the fence, stood one of the tall guard towers—I counted nine different towers in all. Stairs led up to an open-sided, roofed area, like a turret. I caught a glimpse of a man peering out at the camp.

“Look, there's some Nazis right there!” Jack exclaimed.

Four men in German uniforms were walking along one of the paths, moving very quickly. We stopped and gawked until they reached the building and disappeared inside.

“Our dad could have been the one who captured them,” I said.