RAMPS

Chapter One

Prologue

February 1945

SOE Headquarters

London, England

Colonel Wembley, the primary control officer assigned to the clandestine operation headquartered in Luft Stalag 13, shuffled the large stack of papers in front of him, and then checked the slide projector on his left. General Butler, the highest-ranking officer working with Colonel Hogan and his men, sat to Wembley's right. Five other men joined them at the large conference table.

"Therefore, I believe it's in the best interest of the prisoners to head to France for the initial debriefing," Wembley stated. "We cannot be sure of their condition when they are liberated. Right now, they are suffering from shortages and illnesses. My recommendation is to send them to Camp Lucky Strike. We have already been in touch with their chief medical officer and the commander. And as I've mentioned, Sir Colin (1) is in agreement with whatever we decide."

"I disagree, Wembley," stated General Wadley, who was seated next to Butler. "Given the intelligence, it is crucial that they be brought to a secure location at once. The Allies will still have agents operating in hostile territory long after Luft Stalag 13 is liberated." He turned to Butler. "These two men at Camp Lucky Strike now know about Papa Bear's operation? This is a terrible breach."

"No, they do not," Butler interjected. "We just went over their facilities and the possibility of separating a large number of men. Right now, the men already there are being housed by state. If we determine Hogan's men will be sent there, some personnel at the camp will have to be told of the operation. That cannot be helped, and disclosure will be kept to the minimum." Butler leaned forward, cupping his hands in front of him. "We are not just talking about Colonel Hogan and his main team. This is a prisoner of war camp. If the final decision is to bring them all back to England, we will have over 900 men that will need to be flown out of Germany as soon as possible."

"We're sending British RAMPS to Camp Wing. And from there, they're being shipped back to England as soon as feasible," said the man representing the Prisoner of War Executive Branch, the agency in charge of arrangements and implementation of plans for the repatriation and care of liberated POWs. (2) "I also want to know what Colonel Hogan has to say."

"We had hoped to bring him over for a confidential meeting to discuss end-of-war plans, but that is not possible," Wembley replied. "I do know that he requested that we keep everyone together. Not just the main operatives, but the entire camp. And that includes the British prisoners. There is one in particular who is part of his main core team."

"Requested?" The speaker, an American major, stood up. "That is not the word I would use to describe his communiqué regarding the issue. Insisted would be a better word." He walked over to a sideboard and poured himself a glass of water. "Isn't that right, Wembley?"

"You do have a point." Wembley smiled. "He is very stubborn, and protective of all the prisoners, not just those living with him in his barracks. However, based on our experience, he will follow orders. Nevertheless, the main control team has decided to not discuss or inform Luft Stalag 13 of any of the liberation plans. We have implemented an intelligence silence on certain matters, and Colonel Hogan understands this. Our main concern is keeping the operation safe and running until the Allies can liberate the camp. Unfortunately, we have no way of knowing when that will be."

"What are your thoughts, Colonel Maddox?" asked Wadley to the American physician assigned to the OSS.

"Well, after listening to everyone's input, I believe it's in the best interest of all of the men at camp to get them away from that environment and processed as soon as possible. Not all the prisoners are American or British subjects. I hate to have to move those from the continent twice. We already have procedures set up for the evacuation and processing of liberated prisoners. You all have copies of the memoranda and reports." He leaned back in his chair. "I recommend sending them to Camp Lucky Strike. Keep them separated from the rest of the liberated prisoners, but let them have the full resources of the facility. It is now being set up to handle thousands of POWs. I can transfer over there when the time comes and oversee the medical care, if necessary. The OSS and General Eisenhower agree with my initial recommendation." (3)

Wadley nodded. "I do want to do what is best for these men. If we can be guaranteed secrecy, keep those in the loop to a minimum and process these men out as soon as possible, I'm willing to send them to Le Havre when the time comes. Comments?"

No one disagreed.

"Thank you, everyone," Wembley stated as he rose from his chair. "We will start working on this immediately; and if I can ask one more thing? Pray that we don't lose anyone before the camp is liberated."


April 21, 1945

It had only been four days since their liberation; but to Hogan and his staff, it seemed like a lifetime. The company that arrived at the front gates expected to see living skeletons, but to their surprise and relief, they found prisoners already in control of the camp.

As the long line of trucks that began at the motor pool snaked its way through the compound, the rank and file of Luft Stalag 13, sorted by their barracks, waited for their ride out of prison. A medic from the liberating battalion walked over to a group waiting for their assignment. "We're ready for you guys. Load your stuff and then you can get into the truck." The group made good time and were in the truck in less than five minutes.

Colonel Hogan and some of his staff were standing close to the gate. As each truck holding the now-freed prisoners approached the main entrance, it stopped.

Hogan walked over to the vehicle carrying the men from Barracks 12. They tried to scramble to their feet, but he waved them off. "At ease. You were as much a part of this operation as my main team, myself, or any of our underground contacts. I'm proud of every single one of you, and I am proud to serve with you. I'm putting in commendations and promotion requests for every prisoner in this camp."

The men were speechless. Finally, Rogers, the barracks chief, managed a "thank you, sir."

"I'll see you boys in France," Hogan said as he returned their salute. When he spotted Kinch heading his way, he stepped aside. Nodding at his second, Hogan then asked, "more news?"

"Yes, sir. All the guards and prison staff have made it to a secure location in England."

"Good." Hogan stifled a cough. "I'll be sure to pay them a visit after we get back there, go through our debriefing, and anything else they have in store for us."

Kinch stared at another group of prisoners heading their way. "I think that's Barracks 13," he told Hogan. "And then we're breaking for lunch, if that's all right with you, Colonel."

Hogan agreed and then walked over to the next group of men. "Only 300 plus more to get out of here," he mumbled, as he told the waiting soldiers to stand at ease.

The evacuated residents of Barracks 12 left Luft Stalag 13 and eventually caught up with the larger convoy of an assortment of vehicles winding its way around rubble, dead animals, captured Germans, and military vehicles heading in the opposite direction. It took an hour for the convoy to arrive at the captured German airfield.

"You guys from 13?" A corporal carrying a clipboard, yelled over the sound of a C-47 idling on the runway.

"Yes!" Rogers, the barracks chief shouted back.

"We'll unload for you," the corporal said as he approached the group. "We've got wounded filling up this flight. You will have to wait for the next plane. Park yourselves out of the way, and hang onto your paperwork."

"Hey, Rogers." Pasternack pointed to a group of men milling around what appeared to be a first aid tent. "There are the guys from 19."

The new arrivals headed that way and joined their fellow liberated prisoners.

"This is a madhouse." Shepherd, the chief of Barracks 19 offered Rogers a canteen.

"Thanks." Rogers took a long swig. "How long you been waiting?"

"Two flights left without us. I'll tell ya. This brings it a little too close, if you get my drift. It's different in the air. Here, you can see the damage." The two dozen men silently watched as stretchers holding wounded combat troops were loaded onto the plane.

The corporal handling traffic approached them after that flight took off. "Your groups can go on the next flight," he informed the men, who didn't have long to wait. The anticipation of what would happen next made the men nervous, and they chatted constantly throughout the flight. As they approached the runways of the large evacuation center located on the coast of France, they became quiet and then unsure of themselves. The plane remained idling on the runway, as the men exited the aircraft, for as soon as it was clear, it would return to Germany to pick up more wounded, as well as liberated prisoners.

A group of Red Cross workers handing out coffee and doughnuts met the men. While they enjoyed the food and tried not to stare too hard at the women, Rogers went up to a sergeant carrying a clipboard. He was in the process of barking orders in the mayhem that was the tarmac.

"We're more prisoners from 13," Rogers informed the sergeant, as soon as he had a chance to interrupt.

The sergeant glanced over at the two dozen men waiting behind Rogers and then cleared his throat. "Prisoners? Listen up!" He immediately got everyone's attention. "You are ramps now, understand? R! A! M! P! Repatriated Allied Military Personnel! You are no longer POWs! And you are all required to get medical checkups! Follow the line!" He pointed towards a set of buildings on the edge of the runway. "Don't worry about your gear! It's heading over to where you're being billeted!" Resembling a drill sergeant speaking to new recruits, he began walking towards the head of the line. "As soon as you're medically cleared, you will be taken over for interrogations!"

"What interrogations?" Rogers had thought debriefing would start when the staff arrived. "Sergeant, what interrogations?" he repeated.

"I don't make the rules, I just enforce them," was the sergeant's reply.

The 15 men from barracks 12 and the 12 men from Barracks 19 were dumbfounded, but did as they were told. They were kindly but efficiently taken in for thorough checkups and deposited back in another line. They were given a lecture about what they would be fed and how much to eat. The two barracks chiefs, still looking at the bandages where their blood was drawn, were the last ones out and looked around.

"I'm missing two," Rogers told Saunders, one of the crew from Hogan's barracks.

"They took them for x-rays, Sarge."

"Oh." He looked at the nurse who had escorted him out. "How do we find them ma'am?"

"They'll catch up to you. Unless they've been admitted. Someone will let you know."

"What's this interrogation?" Shephard asked the corporal escorting the men over to yet another area.

"It's a formality. Every ramp has to go through it."

"I heard they're checking for German deserters and other people who don't belong here," McNamara, a corporal in Shephard's barracks whispered to another man.

"But we were…"

"That's enough, Bridges." Shepard barked at the man, who was clearly insulted that anyone would think to question his loyalty.

"We're back in the army," another hut mate whispered to another.

Exhausted by the truck ride, the flight, and the medical exams, the men were grateful to be shown to a hanger, where they were to be billeted.

Lovely." Pasternack flopped on a cot. "Thought we were getting tents. So this is where we're quarantined?"

"Temporarily," Anderson, one of Wilson's assistants, told the new arrivals. Meanwhile, other former prisoners were gathering around the newcomers. "They don't want us mingling with prisoners from other camps." He began taking a head count. "We have two missing."

"Pulled out for x-rays," Rogers explained.

"I'll call over. They've admitted about 10 so far." He then pointed to a stack of duffel bags piled up by the wall. "There's a whole load of supplies there for you," Anderson explained. "I heard that some of the kriegies ended up at reception camps first. They got their supplies there." He paused to light a cigarette.

"So what's this place then?"

"Embarkation center," Anderson replied. "We were lucky to skip a step."

Curious, the men opened up the bags, which held extra clothing, toiletries and bedding. They added the items to the supplies they brought with them.

"Some of these guys came in with nothing. And they lost a ton of weight," Anderson said. "I didn't get a chance to talk to any of them, but we've heard a lot of things from the staff. Horrible." He shook his head.

"Where are they?" Rogers asked as he sorted out his supplies.

"Tents. In different sections. I think there are about 200 to 500 men in each area." He chuckled. "Guess what? There's a main street in each section."

"Which we won't see," another man grumbled.

"Hey, it is what it is. We're still classified. And if you see some of these other prisoners, you'll realize how lucky we were," Anderson stated.

"Wait till you see the mess. We're getting served by German POWs," added another man.

"That's something. How's the food? They told us; but is it really that bland?" a corporal from Barracks 19 asked.

Several men from the other barracks laughed.

"Like they told you. Eggnog, milkshakes and bland food. It's specially formulated so we don't get sick," he parroted. "There's so many of us here, we have to go over in shifts," Anderson explained. "Once you get used to the routine, it will all make sense."

Once the men settled in, they were escorted in small groups to another tent, where they filled out more forms.

Rogers put his new ID down on the table. The army lieutenant seated on the other side, took a good look at it and then passed an envelope over to Rogers. "This is your partial pay, sergeant. Sergeant?"

Rogers had zoned out for a moment. "Sorry, Lieutenant. Thank you."

The lieutenant nodded in sympathy. "You have a rough time?" he asked.

"Um, can't say."

"Yeah. So, I've heard." The lieutenant put aside any thoughts of the men from this Luft Stalag out of his mind. What went on at this camp and how the men were treated was way above his pay grade. The bigwigs would sort that out. He pointed to a corporal waiting by the entrance to the large canvas tent. "He'll take you to your intelligence briefing. Good luck. Next!"

Rogers sighed as he walked over. He felt like he was on a merry go round that never stopped. Changing horses with each rotation. "I can't wait until the colonel gets here," he mumbled.


1) Sir Colin Gubbins was the head of the SOE until 1946. Camp Wing was designated for the British liberated prisoners. "Camp Wings (another Cigarette camp –ed), close by Lucky Strike, served as the air terminus for the men evacuated by air and also as a base camp for British RAMPs. Eventually, an additional airstrip was built at Camp Lucky Strike to relieve the load at Camp Wings." www . nationalww2museum war / articles / camp-lucky-strike

2) www . archives . gov / research / guide - fed - records / groups / 331 .html

3) From a memoir: "We were put in tents and segregated by states to come back to the good old U.S.A. I did not have any addresses of my friends because we were from different states. We were offered leave time in London or Paris, but my choice was getting back to the U.S.A. as fast as I could. The area around LeHavre, France, port facilities were in total destruction. There was nothing standing in an area of two square miles of my estimation. There were gun barrels the size of sewer pipe twisted and bent. The pill boxes were steel reinforced concrete, about 30 inches thick on all sides with a window in front for the gun barrel to stick out. There were gun barrels lying around that were about 16 inches in diameter."

/ page / 94111957 - my - observations - as - a - wwii - pow - by - richard - klema

A/N: This story is a culmination of over 10 years of research. Originally written by hand in the winter of 2010, it's been sitting in my computer and on paper ever since. I decided to finally try and get it posted-for several reasons-I have time right now, I wanted to honor the 75th anniversary of V.E. Day, and I was so bogged down in the research, I couldn't get it moving. So, I've decided to incorporate what I can and not have it be too overwhelming; my purpose is to write the sequel to "Out the Front Gates" and to highlight what happened to the men in the ETO (Western Allies) who were liberated. This was a whole new set of problems never faced by any military or civilian organization. (seems apropos, considering what we're dealing with at the moment). My final goal is to tell a good story, not publish a term paper. So with that in mind, (and to follow site rules) I will post citations and a bibliography in the forums after the story is finished and I can get all my notes together. I'll try and incorporate historical facts into the narrative when I can. The other thing to note is that the experiences of all liberated POWs differ. And so do their memoirs. There is no one definitive set of circumstances; no definitive description of the Lucky Strike camps. Too many years have passed. I'm trying to use as many primary sources as possible. Thanks for reading!