Chapter 16

Marius was an old man.  He had been born in 1927 and his 80+ years had taken a toll on his body, but overall he was still in good shape. He had been a bricklayer and a carpenter for most of his life and those occupations both strengthen the physique and debilitate it in turn. He was fortunate in having avoided injury and remained physically healthy and fit. He had retired in the “New” Germany some 20 years before and had received retirement income from the Government every month. His health needs would have been provided for, if he had health needs, but he rarely ever saw a doctor. When he did visit physicians, they were always impressed with his physical state.

Marius’ wife was equally well, and together they had celebrated the birth of children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, exulting with them in their successes and weeping with them in their trials. They had met just after World War II had been lost and the Allies had arrived. Marius had no family and Alexandra’s father had brought him home one night to feed him dinner. He returned often and soon they were married and lived with her parents. In the aftermath of the war, housing was critical and they were grateful that her parents were so generous with them.  Eventually they moved to their own apartment, but when Alexandra’s parents died, the house became hers and they moved back into it.

            Marius’ father-in-law had shared with him a great secret. The older man had been instrumental in construction of a great tunnel network beneath the ground to the north of Mannheim. There had been natural caves that both men had discovered in their youth, but Marius had never pursued the exploration while Alexandra’s father had known the caves well. During the First World War, he had been responsible for much of the construction that had been done, enlarging the natural caves to serve the purposes of the Army. In his declining years, he had become the caretaker of the tunnel system, and as he realized that he would not be physically able to watch over them much longer, he recruited Marius to take over the responsibility.

            Most of the tunnel system was just empty passages, but there were several entrances that he periodically watched over, and there were three storage chambers that had been locked since before the Second World War had ended.  The entrance to the caves that had been there since before anyone could remember was in the middle of a nearby farm on which had been constructed housing for the American military families that followed the troops stationed there after the war. Alexandra’s family home had been built next to a second entrance to the caves. Her father had been quite secretive about the entrance and she wasn’t allowed to tell her friends of it.  And truth to tell, it was so dark and so deep that she had never explored very far into it.  It was something she took for granted and it wasn’t until Marius became the tunnel’s caretaker that she even thought about it again.

             She wasn’t even sure why the tunnels needed a caretaker. Marius had told her that it was his patriotic duty to keep watch over the tunnels, and her father had always done the same so it seemed an ordinary thing. 

            Marius had been the caretaker now for decades. After all this time, he too began to wonder why the tunnels needed someone to monitor them. He had not tried to find a successor, and his solution was that when he died, if someone discovered the system, it would be up to them what they should do with the discovery. For him however, the responsibility had been his for most of his life and he would continue with it as long as he was able. He had come to actually enjoy his time underground, ambling along with his thoughts and his memories. He had patrolled the underground corridors weekly most of the time, and he realized that the physical activity was one of the things that kept him healthy through the years. 

            Decades had gone by without his noticing any changes. From the marvel of the underground river to the ruins of the Ammunition Arsenal to the ladders that extended into the several kasernes to the other natural entrance that had been found to the cave system in the cemetery, he knew them as he knew the hallways of his own home. He had been to the IG Farben entrance and had seen the many storage vaults, including those with the locked doors.  He had walked from his own cave entrance in the opposite direction to the old Luftwaffe airfield that the Americans had made their own, and in all those many years, he had never seen a sign of a living soul. His father-in-law had made ladders to allow him access to the various ladder-shafts in the system, and he would periodically climb the old steel ladders to make sure that the entrance doors were secure.

            Then, a week ago, something occurred that he did not know how to deal with. While making his rounds one evening, he had found a rope ladder hanging down from the cave entrance that he had played around as a boy. He had helped to build the house over the top of that entrance and conceal it, and it was completely in the hands of the Americans. He did not know what to do. He climbed up his aluminum ladder and took down the ropes that had been hung from the steel rung. He hoped this would be enough to discourage whoever was entering his domain. 

            In the early days, he actually patrolled with a Luger pistol in the event he found the tunnels threatened, but had long ago foregone a weapon. It had been so long ago that he had not considered in decades what he should do if he found someone in the system. There was no one to report to and his mission had been to protect the secret. Now he began to wonder if the secret was still worth protecting.

            That morning he had felt a grim foreboding. He was numbly aware that others had penetrated these remains of a bygone time. He began to climb down through the cave entrance hidden in his own garden shed when he heard, far off, a banging coming from the tunnels. He opened the lock on his entrance into the tunnel system and began to follow the clamor. The noise began as a far off hammering, but became a booming report echoing through the corridors. He arrived in the tunnel that harbored the storage chambers, and he turned into the passage with the door that had the most ominous legend on it. He knew from the tales his father-in-law had told him what was probably behind it, and the shame that descended on him as a German, when he thought of its contents, had always driven him to avoidance.

            Now he looked at the open door. His mixed emotions left him deeply troubled, but the action he had been programmed to perform for half-a-century led him to contain the intrusion if possible. Reflexively, he shut the door and threw the bolt, picked up the padlock lying by the door, and fastened it to the hasp on the bolt. He heard the banging from the inside of the door, but conflicted and ashamed, he walked away. 

            At the hub where all the tunnels converged, he removed the aluminum ladder, and as he had done the week before, removed the ladder that was hanging there. He put the aluminum ladder away, and then began walking slowly home. He needed to think. The activity had tired him and thinking was not as easy as it had once been.  

Chapter 15

            The boys awoke to what seemed to be another world. They felt like the bubble of excitement they had been living with for a week had burst and they were physically exhausted and mentally beaten. They dressed and grabbed their gear on the way to the kitchen for breakfast. 

            “Where’s Allie?” asked Jason.

            Lacy said, “I checked on her a little while ago and she’s still sick. One more day at home, I think.”

            They wolfed down breakfast and headed out the door at a run, a few minutes late as usual. The three boys walked together and turned out of the entrance gate.  They had walked for a few minutes toward their schools when Jarom cried, “I forgot my homework! My teacher will kill me if it’s late. Go ahead and I’ll run home and grab it. I’ll have to run the whole way, but I think I can make it.”

            He turned back toward home and his brothers watched him go before resuming their walk. They were a little surprised that Jarom would so concerned about his homework, but their thoughts returned to the week they’d had and the school-day they were starting. 

            Jarom ran to the entrance gate, but didn’t turn in. He passed the gate and continued running down the street between the elementary school and the cemetery, and when he reached the gate into the cemetery, he turned in. The headstones and tombs looked different in the daylight, and he wandered from row to row looking for one that was captured in his memory. Several minutes went by before he saw the chained gate that he and his siblings had come through the week before. Looking left and right, he saw that he was alone. He lifted the gate off its hinges and opened it enough to slip through, and then hung it back on its hinges and ducked inside the tomb. 

            It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, but past the first crypt was an opening in the ground with a stone slab shifted out of its seat.  He sat down on the slab, removed his backpack, and rummaged around in it for his headlamp. He had not emptied his adventuring tools out last night and was still prepared for completing his mission.

            With the lamp on, he dangled his feet through the hole in the ground until he felt they were on solid wooden steps, and then boosted himself through the opening. The dim light of the tomb seemed like bright daylight compared with the inky darkness in the tunnel. With his light shining on the steps below him, he began taking each one in turn. He remembered that some were missing and others broken and rotten, so he was extra-careful in his descent.  Several minutes later, he reached the bottom and looking up, could only see a faint glow coming from the tomb opening.

            Four headlamps gave out a lot more light than one, and having companions lent an air of security while walking through the dark tunnels, but he felt his mission was justified and had already committed himself. He knew that there would be consequences for his disobedience, but his impetuous nature had subdued those thoughts. Now, walking alone through the passage to the round room a short distance away, his conscience began to prickle and as he entered the round room and looked at the chain ladder hanging from the shaft, the temptation to climb back into the closet and go on to school, late though he would be, was strong. He remembered his father telling him that he had was forbidden from climbing down that ladder again, and he told himself that he was following the letter of the law, if not the spirit. His indignation at being excluded from his discovery was stronger though, and he put his feelings of weakness aside and turned down the west tunnel. It was the same 15 minute walk it had been the several times he had made it previously, but he couldn’t help but feel a tingle at the back of his neck as he walked. He could almost feel a presence there, but he looked behind him and saw nothing. He arrived and found things as they had left them the night before. He passed the side tunnels on the right and the left, and a moment later found the tunnel that branched off sharply to his right. He made the turn and came to the third steel door, bolted and locked as the others had been, with its eerie inscription.  “Geben Sie die Hoffnung, die ihr hier eingeben,” he read and realized that they had never looked up the translation.

He examined the door and the lock and found them as he had expected, but he noticed again the rubber seal around the door.  Removing the lubricants from the backpack, he sprayed graphite and WD-40 into the workings of the lock.  Selecting a curved pick, he inserted it into the keyway and began depressing the pins and the springs under them one at a time until he could feel them moving smoothly and freely. Then he inserted the tension tool and applied a finely tuned tension to the cylinder. He chose a diamond shaped pick and then snapped off his headlamp, closed his eyes, and began to depress sequentially the pins in the lock.  The procedure was routine by that time. Having spent close to 2 hours in the past 2 nights sensing the subtle changes in position and pressure in the lock, his senses had become acutely attuned, and without his eyes as a distraction, he focused completely. 

He spent another hour on the exacting task he had undertaken before he was rewarded with the oily-smooth turn of the cylinder as each of the pins was depressed and held at the perfect level. The shackle clicked open and Jarom removed the lock from the bolt. He turned on his headlamp and grabbing the handle of the bolt with both hands, attempted to turn it. It was beyond his strength to budge it, but then he remembered the lubricant. He sprayed the WD-40 on all the binding joints and surfaces, and this time thought to lubricate the hinges of the door. He tried again, but the oil had not had time to penetrate the oxidized connections and he still couldn’t budge the bolt. 

            He thought of the tools they had left the night before by the art storage room and he walked out into the main passage and turned left.  A moment later, he turned into the passage leading to the treasure chamber where he found the hammer, screwdrivers, crowbar and the sledge hammer. He picked them all up and, a bit clumsily for the load, staggered back out into the main passage. He stumbled along for a moment before turning back into the drift he had emerged from moments ago.  

 Laying down the other tools, he picked up the crowbar and fitted the claw on the curved end under the handle of the bolt, pulled on  the crowbar. With the additional leverage it provided, the bolt turned easily.  He sprayed more of the WD-40 on the slide and then tried to push it back down without success. With nothing to pry against, he picked up the hammer and by striking the handle of the bolt both repeatedly and deafeningly, was able to return it to its starting position. With a few minutes work of alternating between prying with the crowbar and beating with the hammer, the bolt loosened and he could move it up and down easily enough. 

Sliding the bolt open was another story though. Even striking it with the hammer didn’t provide enough force to move the bolt sideways out of its seat in the wall. Looking around for help, his eyes fell upon the sledge hammer and taking it up and assuming a batter’s stance, he swung aiming for the handle. The first blow landed on the face of the door itself and sounded like the gong on a Japanese temple being struck as the sound echoed into the passageway, but the second swing was on target and the bolt moved slightly. Becoming more confident, he hit the handle again and again and it broke free. Once it had moved from its archival position, he was able to loosen it up and move it smoothly by hand.

The lubrication on the hinges had done its job while he was working on the bolt and by prying with the crowbar between the end of the bolt and the steel door frame, the door moved toward him more easily than he had expected. The dank and musty odor of ancient death and decay emanated from the slim opening. Able to get his hands on the edge of the door, he could pull the door open enough to look inside, but he was not prepared for what he saw.

Gazing into the barely-lit blackness, he could make out what appeared to be piles of debris littering the floor.  He stepped into the chamber and moved closer, shining his light onto a mound of rags, and as he moved the light up, he discovered that the rags had a face.  He could see the dessicated leathery remnants of what skin was left over the cheeks and the forehead.  Wisps of hair were evident, but the eyes were gone and the lips were pulled back to reveal an exaggerated toothy grin. Simple striped clothing covered the rest of the body, threadbare as it was, and the floor around it was stained from fluids that had likely drained from the corpse. The skin covering the hands and arms was shrunken and seemed to be all that held together the skeletal remains. 

He was staggered, but the shock he felt wasn’t from the single body. It was from the hundreds of bodies that he now recognized leaning against the walls, laid out on the floor, and lying over each other. As far as his light would penetrate in the pitch-darkness, he could see as ghastly an illustration of hell-on-earth as could be imagined, for these souls did not depart their mortal remains quietly, but appeared to have been locked in and forgotten and left to starve. 

The observations, the conclusions he had drawn, had come to him in such a rush that terror that overcame him followed by his realization of what he was standing in the midst of.  His panic washed over him in waves, and he turned to leave this abhorrent and frightful place when he heard the squeak of the door hinges followed by the explosive sound of the door closing into place. 

He ran as quickly as he could for the door and began to push on its cold steel surface, but it was unmoving. The bolt had been thrown and he was locked in, just as his deceased companions had been at the end of their lives. Screaming and weeping, he banged on the door until his hands were raw and he sank to the floor sobbing with fear and regret. 

Chapter 14

            Tuesday morning came.  The routine of daily life supplanted the excitement and distress of the night before.  Lacy and Frank were civil and it was all the boys could do to get out the door on time. Allie’s temperature remained above normal, and she stayed home from school. She didn’t want to stay home from school, but her desires were overridden by the parental wisdom of her mother. 

When all but Allie had left for the day, Lacy had time to contemplate her anger from the night before. The anger was a natural byproduct of the fear she had felt for her family, and the uncertainty of what she should do in that situation. After the heat of her anger had subsided and only the burn of thoughtlessness remained, she forgave easily. She loved her husband and her children; she was only worried for their safety.

Frank’s boss was still away and he was immersed his current assignment. He had a deadline he had to meet and could not afford to be distracted, but he did take a few minutes to ask about the restoration to the Germans of the several kasernes around Mannheim. One of his co-workers who had worked on the logistics and planning for the return of the bases that had already been repatriated told him that Turley Barracks and Taylor Barracks had been the first second of the kasernes in the Mannheim area to be given back. Of course Frank knew that the rest of the kasernes including Ben Franklin Village, where their home was, would be returned in the next few years, but he was not aware of those that had been repatriated before he had arrived in Germany.

The day passed quickly enough and he was driving home to his quarters in Ben Franklin Village.  His drive took him through open farmland, past industrial areas, and through densely settled residential neighborhoods and apartment buildings. It seemed odd to him that people would live in such crowded conditions with virtually wide open spaces in close proximity. The same thing could be found in America’s cities, of course, but it was still a conundrum he couldn’t fathom. 

He reached Grant Circle and turned down his street.  Arriving at the house, he was surprised to see a face in every window, waiting for him to get home. He stepped out of the car as the door opened and the boys poured out. Allie was on the mend, but her mother was keeping her close. He greeted the boys and then walked into the kitchen. His wife was standing at the stove and he walked over and gave her a hug, and she turned and hugged him back. He gratefully kissed her thinking that there is no feeling worse than feeling unloved by the person you love the most.

A few minutes later, the family gathered around the dinner table to eat and discuss the night’s agenda. Jarom’s success with the lock picks had energized everyone except his mother who had not yet heard the story. Her questioning looks prompted him to explain.

“Last night I worked on one of the padlocks for over an hour before all the pieces fell into place and the lock opened. Together, we all pulled on the door and when it opened, we saw that it was clear full of all kinds of ammunition! The crazy thing about the ammunition, though, is that it was from World War I, not World War II. Dad thinks it’s still there because they had newer guns in World War II that it wouldn’t fit into, and so they just left it there, forgotten in that storage room.”

Jason continued the story of their night’s activities saying, “Then we thought we had enough time before we had to be home, so we hurried down the southeast tunnel because dad wanted to see the high opening in the middle of the tunnel. We could still hear the sounds of the traffic, and Dad thinks that it opens into the traffic circle at BFV and was for ventilation in the tunnels. We were close to the end of the tunnel so we went clear to the end. I found a ladder hidden by the end of the tunnel so we climbed up into the room at the top and it was empty.”

Frank continued, “We could see that we were in Taylor Barracks, and I checked today at work. Taylor Barracks was turned back over to the Germans over a year ago, and that is why the trap door just opened into an empty room.”

John finished the story, “And then we just came back as fast as we could because we didn’t want you to be worried! We’re real sorry we scared you, Mom. We won’t do that again.”

Lacy looked at all her men. Then she said, “I worry about you because I love you, not because I don’t trust you.” Then, facing what she knew was inevitable, she asked, “What time will you be back tonight?”

Frank looked at her gratefully, thinking of what love she had for them to swallow her fears and trust them again. “If we aren’t back by 9:30, then assume there is a problem,” he said.  “But there won’t be. We’ll be back. I promise.”

The boys echoed together, “Me too!”

They cleared the table and got everything ready for another trip into the darkness.  Water bottles filled and backpacks on, headlamps with fresh batteries, and dressed like spelunkers, Jarom opened the trap door and they started down again.  When they had grouped together at the bottom of the ladder-shaft in the round room, they turned to the west and began walking toward the locked doors.

The night before, Jarom had been successful with the door on the left side of the tunnel.  Tonight, he turned into the side tunnel on the right, and prepared to work on the lock.  As he had the night before, he sprayed the powdered graphite into the lock and then after a few blasts of WD-40, began depressing the pins in each of their chambers to work the lubricant in.  After he was satisfied that the mechanics of the padlock were moving smoothly, he inserted the tension tool and placed a slight amount of tension on the lock cylinder. He selected the pick that he had been successful with the night before and began the tedious process again. Vision was actually a distraction because he couldn’t see inside the lock, so once everything was in place, he turned off his headlamp, closed his eyes, and concentrated on just the feel of depressing each pin. 

The others had developed faith in Jarom, but understood that they may be in for a long wait, so they wandered back across the main passageway to the ammunition storage room. Jason wondered out loud, “Do you think we’ll find more old ammunition in the other room?”

John answered, “Makes sense, I guess.”

Frank, who had been walking down one of the aisles, turned to look back at his sons in time to see Jason climb up on top of a stack of wooden crates to read the lettering more clearly.  Crawling off of them onto the next stack which happened to be cardboard boxes of hand grenades, the front of the bottom boxes broke out under the additional weight and the stack came crashing down with Jason riding it to the ground. Everyone held their breath waiting for the explosion that would collapse the entire room. Jason eased himself off the spilled grenades which had rolled away both up and down the aisle, and tip-toed through the minefield. 

Heaving a sigh of relief, Frank met him at the end of the aisle and hugged him. He said, “The powder used in American hand grenades today is smokeless powder and bumping them wouldn’t make them explode. These are probably the first of the German ‘potato masher’ style, and who knows what powder they used. The German grenades had a cap on the bottom of the handle that had to be unscrewed and then a string was pulled that started a timed fuse, so it’s pretty unlikely they would explode without being activated,  but with ordnance this old, we’re better off safe than sorry. Let’s just leave them alone and we’ll go and see how Jarom’s doing.”  In one more quiet aside, he said to Jarom, “We don’t have to tell your mother about the hand grenades.”

Jarom nodded his assent and they walked out of the side tunnel that led from the ammunition storage, across the main passageway, and into the side tunnel on the opposite side to find it completely dark. Jarom sat with his eyes closed, all his concentration on the small movements within the lock. They did not want to disturb his intense focus, and began to turn away when he let out a bellow, “I got it!”

Turning back toward him, they ran over to the door just as he finished turning the cylinder and watched the shackle on the lock slide open. Jarom took a moment to get his picks put away and his light back on, and then he squirted the WD-40 on all of the contact points of the bolt. 

Grabbing hold of the bolt handle, he pulled with all his might and felt it begin to give way. He pushed it back and then pulled it again and the lubricant began to loosen up the slide.  A few repetitions and when the bolt was rotating up and down smoothly, he began to put pressure on it to slide sideways out of its seat. For this he needed some help and Frank stepped in to pull beside his son. Together, rotating the bolt up and down, they pulled sideways and it squeaked its way out of the seat. Then, with the effort of all of them together, they began opening the massive door outward. 

When enough of an opening had been made to squeeze through, they each, in turn, entered the chamber.  It was immediately obvious that this was no ammunition storage room.  Here there were crates, but the crates were tall, wide, and not apparently heavy. Other than a numbering system that must have been used to identify the crates and their contents, there was no identification in any language. 

The crates were extremely well made but they had no tools to open them.  After several minutes of trying, they had to admit defeat.  The tool chest in the basement of the house was no more than 15 or 20 minutes away, and in normal circumstances Frank might have sent John to retrieve a crowbar, a hammer, and a screwdriver, but he was not willing to risk his wife’s displeasure.

“Guys,” he said, “I think we have to go home and get some tools.  Short of smashing a crate against the wall, I can’t see how we can open them, and we don’t know what we’d be smashing. It’s 7:15.  If we get a move on, we should be able to be back in half-an-hour.”

Running in the tunnel with a headlamp’s beam bobbing and weaving was difficult, and after a few minutes time, they slowed to a brisk, steady pace. In a quarter of an hour, they had reached their ladder and were scrambling up it a moment later. They piled into the hallway upstairs and the boys ran down to see their mother in the living room on the way to the basement.  Frank stopped in to kiss his wife and update her on their find.

“Jarom got the second lock opened in less time than it took last night, and then together we got the door open. Everything inside the room looks immaculate and untouched as if it had been carefully preserved. There are hundreds of crates that are so well-built we couldn’t tear them apart with our bare hands, so we had to come back for some tools. The boys are rounding them up now, and then we’ll go back and see what is in them.”

“OK, Frank, but be careful.  And remember: You promised.”

“I know, Lace. We’ll be back before 9:30. Look!  Here come the boys…”

John was carrying a crowbar and a hammer and Jarom had his trusty screwdriver as well as a Phillips head screwdriver. Jason was struggling under the load of a 10 pound sledge hammer. They headed up the stairs and Frank followed murmuring words of affection as he separated from his wife’s embrace.

They put most of the tools in their backpacks, but the sledge hammer wouldn’t fit. 

Frank asked, “Do you really think we’re going to have to bash our way into the crates, Jason”

Jason replied, “You never know, Dad, and we don’t have time to come back for it again.”

Frank admitted that he had a point, and Jason led the pack down the ladder. The sledge hammer was cumbersome because he needed both hands on the ladder, and after only a few steps, he lost his grip and it went tumbling down the shaft, sounding like a hailstorm on a tin roof.

Frank said a prayer of silent thanks that Jason was first down the ladder and that the hammer hadn’t hit anyone on its way down. He was also grateful that it had a fiberglass handle because he expected that a wooden handle would have broken in the fall. 

In only moments, they had reassembled in the round room. Jason sheepishly picked up the sledge hammer that had only suffered some dents in the handle as it had bounced off the ladder and the sides of the shaft. They began walking and in 15 minutes were entering the storage room again.  

Frank took the crowbar from John and handed it to Jarom. This was Jarom’s party and Frank thought that Jarom should have the first crack at opening a crate. They selected one perhaps 4 feet wide by 5 feet tall and 12” deep. Jarom and John laid it on its back and then, under Frank’s guidance, Jarom put the end of the crowbar under the edge of the cover and began to pry it up.  He worked around slowly, not knowing what he would find.  As the wooden cover came loose, a brown paper cover was revealed and as that was turned aside, they saw a magnificent painting of a scene from a countryside with a horse and rider atop. Even in the light of the headlamp, the colors were vibrant and it was clear that the artist was no amateur. The boys were puzzled as to why a painting would be so carefully packed and laid away in a forgotten storage chamber deep beneath the earth, but Frank began to suspect that the whole room might contain art works and objects stolen by the 3^rd. Reich and hidden away until they could be safely recovered. He pointed to another crate that was  a 4’ x4’ x 4’ cube. He received the crowbar from Jarom and began prying the cover off the crate only to find inside a series of regular open-ended 4”x4” square tubes as long as the box was wide. Reaching his fingers inside one of the cubbyholes, he could feel canvas. He carefully slid it out and painstakingly unrolled it to find another masterwork. Apparently these paintings had been removed from their stretching frames and rolled for shipment and storage. 

Not wanting to be left out, John and Jason began working on another crate measuring 2’x2’x4’.  This crate had been fastened shut with screws rather than nails, and the crate itself was a good deal heavier than the ones opened so far. They unscrewed the top of the crate and found within it a marble statue of a majestic stag on a peak surveying his kingdom. The workmanship in stone was magnificent.

On one wall of the room were regularly shaped boxes about 2’x2’x1’.  There were hundreds of them stacked, one atop the next. The boxes were heavy; too heavy for a painting and too heavy even for a statue. Driving the screwdriver in between the top and the side with the hammer, Frank pried off the top of the crate only to have to sit down when he saw the contents. Weak in the knees, he began to realize the magnitude of what they had stumbled across. The larger crates held paintings and statuary, but the small ones were filled with gold bullion. 

It was clear that these things had been hidden since at least the end of World War II, and that someone intended to retrieve them. Frank had heard of artwork looted from the Jews and others the Nazis found undesirable, as well as from museums in conquered counties, but he had assumed that those artworks had been recovered. The Nuremberg War Crimes Tribunals tried the senior war criminals after the Allies had conquered Germany. It was possible and maybe even likely, he guessed, that whoever had hidden this away had been convicted and had never been able to retrieve the treasure. “The secrecy that must have been necessary to have hidden this trove from the world had to have been absolute,” he pondered.

These thoughts had flashed through Frank’s mind in only seconds, but the boys were still looking puzzled, wondering why paintings and sculptures and gold had been preserved in this chamber all these years. Frank began to explain, “You’ve heard that during the 2^nd World War, the Nazis shipped the Jews and others they thought inferior, to Concentration Camps, Work Camps and Extermination Camps? The camps were built in Germany and countries to the east like Poland and the Czech Republic. As they imprisoned the people, they confiscated their valuables. In the Extermination Camps, as they killed their prisoners, they removed gold fillings from their teeth and melted them down. It isn’t difficult to imagine that this plunder was saved for those with enough power to have ordered it to be saved. It is likely that they were Hitler’s leaders at the top of the Nazi government.

Frank keenly felt the responsibility to inform the proper authorities of what they had found.  At that moment, he could be held responsible for opening the locked door and inviting thieves in. He said, “This casts a whole new light on the importance of this tunnel system.  Finding old ammunition is interesting, but not earth-shaking. Finding this forgotten artwork and gold bullion worth many millions, if not billions of dollars is earth-shaking.” 

“Boys, it’s time we headed for home.  We don’t want to be late, and we have lots to tell Mom and Allie.”

“Do you think we should lock the door up again, Dad? For safekeeping?” asked Jason.

“I suppose if it’s been safe down here for all these years. Another night or two shouldn’t matter, but I am a little nervous about it. Let’s close the door and throw the bolt and we’ll put the padlock in place as if it’s locked. We just won’t lock it.”

They all stepped out of the room and then together pushed the door closed. The lubricated bolt slid home much more easily, and when the padlock was in place, it looked to the casual observer in the dark as if it was locked.

Not sure of what the next day might bring, they left the tools beside the treasure chamber and began walking back toward their home. In another 15 minutes they were climbing up the ladder and were shortly seated in the living room with Lacy and Allie.

Frank began: “We want to tell you what we found tonight. It’s important and we didn’t want to wait until tomorrow. Everything we’ve done, we’ve done under a cloak of secrecy, but what we’re about to tell you is even more confidential.”

Frank had been happy to let the boys tell of their adventures in days past, but he felt compelled to continue. “Jarom picked the lock and we got the steel door open, but the room was full of crates of several sizes. We had nothing to open the crates, so that is why we came back for the tools; so we could open the crates.  When we got back, Jarom opened the first crate and we found a painting that I believe is a masterwork that was probably looted by the Nazis from one of the peoples they enslaved or from a museum in a conquered country. We opened another crate and found a beautiful marble sculpture. We opened a third crate, one of hundreds just alike, and found it full of gold bullion.”

Lacy took a moment to let this digest. Then she said, “Are you saying that there are hundreds of crates full of paintings, sculpture, gold, and maybe other valuables that were stolen by the Nazis during the war and stored here?”

Frank replied, “That is exactly what I’m saying, and I think it makes it even more important to turn what we’ve found over to the authorities.”

“I think that was our last trip down there alone. When we go down there again, it needs to be with the Provost Marshal and his MP’s. As an Army officer, I can’t justify withholding information like that. They will be asking hard questions as it is, and I don’t want to be accused of attempted theft of stolen priceless art. With those treasures at stake, I don’t think we have a choice.”

“But Dad!” cried Jarom and seconded by John and Jason. “We only have one more door to open.  We don’t even know what’s in it. Just one more night….”

“No, boys,” stated Frank with authority. “What is there is too important, and not just for us, but for our country and for the world.  It is an amazing discovery that needs to be in the right hands.”

“But please, Dad….”said John.

“No. I don’t want you boys down there again until I get approval from the proper authorities. I will talk to them tomorrow. You are forbidden to go down that ladder again.  That is the end of the discussion! Now, off to bed.”

Allie and the boys climbed the stairs to their rooms. Still running a slight fever, Allie went off to bed, but the boys continued to grumble whisperingly in their room. 

“We have to get into that third room,” said Jarom urgently. “If we don’t get into it, we’ll never see it.  And we found it!”

John said, “I know how you feel, Jarom, but like Dad says, there is more here at stake than just seeing that room.  I wish we could open it and see what’s in there too, but we can’t, so we’ll just have to wait and see what the Army does with it.”

Jason looked dejected, but silently put his pajamas on and climbed into bed. John and Jarom did too, but only Jason and John went to sleep right away. Jarom lay awake in turmoil for a long time.

Chapter 13

            Sunday morning arrived with no talk of tunnels and adventure. The family dressed in their best clothes and went off to church a mile away. After services, they came home and had a delicious lasagna Lacy had prepared the day before and they spent the day together resting and enjoying being a family. They had not spent any downtime together for some time and it was a simple pleasure. The weather was overcast as was common in that part of Germany, and the temperature was in the 50’s, but wearing comfortable clothes and tennis shoes, they walked out the gate of the military housing area and strolled toward the Kafertal Wald. The Wald was a forested area preserved in a natural setting. It had been developed many years in the past with old roads spreading throughout the area, but now in most of the forest, only foot traffic or bicycles were allowed. 

            They walked along the Wasserwerkstrasse which ran along the fence that their back yard faced through some farmland and into the Wald. They had done enough walking in the past week to be tired of hiking, but this was a different world than that they had recently inhabited. The air had a vaguely chemical smell to it due to the proximity to the chemical plant a few miles away, but it was green and the spaces were wide open away from the trees. The vehicle road extended to the waterworks, and past that they entered the pedestrian area.  Their tacit agreement had been not to discuss their underground experiences, but John and Frank had looked at Google Earth together for a few minutes and unobtrusively guided their walk toward the Abandoned Ammunition Arsenal. The forest trail beyond the waterworks extended along a gently curving bank that led to an oblique 4-way intersection. They turned to the right and in a few hundred yards came to the corner of the fence that had enclosed the Ammunition Storage Arsenal. They turned left along the fence and after another few hundred yards, the fence ended and they walked into the area that had once been enclosed. They weren’t sure what they were looking for exactly, but they were drawn to what might have been the building site they had been beneath the day before. 

            They weren’t sure where to look since the fenced area was large, but the only barren spot on the satellite map where a building might have stood was just inside the fence at the corner they had first arrived at. They made their way to the rubble-strewn field to look for signs of the building. They found in places, the ruins of a block building. The few blocks that remained were only stacked one or two high and were completely absent in most places.  Ignoring the bushes that had grown up, they could imagine the outline of what, at one time, must have been a large structure. The rubble that littered the area was likely the remnant of the blocks from which the building had been constructed. There were still the tracks of an old road that edged the building site and only a short distance away in otherwise flat terrain stood a hill. They walked over to the hill which had many years of forest growth encroaching on it, but in where the vegetation had not taken hold, the core seemed to consist of broken rock. 

            Seeing nothing else they could identify as having come from a distant past, they walked back out on to the trail and began the trek back home. John said, surprised, “Look everyone.  We missed a sign.” The sign that was off the path and tacked to a tree read, ‘Achtung Verlassen der Wege Verboten.  Explosion und Gefahr’.’  None of them spoke German well enough to translate, but Frank typed the verbiage into his phone and asked for a translation. The sign translated to English read, ‘Stay on the Path. Explosion Hazard.’   Grateful that they hadn’t discovered what an Explosion Hazard really was, they continued down the path until they arrived at their home. 

            When they arrived home, Jarom retrieved his book on lock picking and sat down to study. He found a padlock on the tool chest downstairs and brought it to the kitchen table to practice with. When he carefully followed the steps that were listed in his book, he found that too much tension on the tension wrench locked up the cylinder so the pins wouldn’t push properly.  He couldn’t see into the lock, so he imagined that his senses were concentrated in his fingers and he tried to accustom himself to the feel of pushing each one of the pins independently. He also learned that the pins don’t always respond to being pushed in order and that he had to sense by the pressure which of the pins was the next to be pushed down.

            The rest of the family watched him for a time, and then finally went their separate ways.  They were preparing for the school day ahead, as well as for the activities they had planned for the following afternoon. Since Frank and Lacy were in on the secret, there was no longer any need to delay their exploration until late in the evening, so they planned a quick supper the next night after Frank arrived home from work and then would depart their home for the cool, quiet and dark world beneath their house.

             Monday morning arrived and the day began normally for the James family. The children gathered their homework and backpacks, added the lunches that they had made earlier that morning, and were soon walking to school.  Frank had already left for work by the time the children departed, and on arriving, he busied himself with plans for the return of the American military bases to the Germans. The American occupation had continued since the end of World War II.  Most German military bases had been taken over by the Allies and had remained active through the Cold War. Since the disintegration of the USSR and the threat of the invasion of Europe from the Russia and its satellites, the Americans had slowly been repatriating the bases under its control. Much of Frank’s job was involved with preparing bases around Germany for closure. Colonel Taylor had asked Frank to keep him informed of the children’s intrusion into the airfield, but having nothing new to report yet and not wanting to tell him anything he would afterward have to admit was untrue, he was grateful to find that the Colonel would be away for a few days. He worked half-heartedly at the plans all day, but truth-to-tell, he was eager to be solving the mystery of the tunnel system. The Engineer Battalion had a small library and he browsed the titles looking for a historical account of the area from an engineering perspective. Most of what was available there had been written since the Allied occupation of Germany and detailed the reconstruction. What he needed was a German history of the construction that had gone on before and during the war. 

            The Colonel’s secretary, Frieda, was an older German national that had been employed by the Army since she was a teenager. Frank stopped to talk with her to see if she knew anything of the wartime history of the area. 

            “Frieda,” he began, “My family and I were out walking in the Wald last evening past the Wasserwerks on Wasserwerkstrasse and we came to a partly fenced off area with a sign that said ‘Danger, Explosion Hazard’ with a picture of a bomb exploding. Do you know what that was? 

            “I was born in 1946 after the war and by the time I was old enough to be aware of the world outside my home, everything there was long gone.  As a child I remember this whole area was devastated.  All of the buildings had received heavy bombing and most had to be torn down and hauled off. That was still going on even at the time I could remember, probably in 1950 or 51. Our family used to walk in the Wald, and there was a building that must have existed there, but I only remember it as a pile of rubble. I suppose there may be unexploded bombs that are still buried in the earth around the remains. The trees you see in the Wald have grown up since then, but at that time there were only a few living trees there. It is hard to imagine the destruction when you look at it now, but even here on this kaserne, all the buildings have been built or rebuilt since that time because the British bombed the airfield so steadily and completely.”

            Thanking her for her time and remembrances, Frank excused himself and when the end of the workday arrived, left for home.  The children were awaiting his arrival and excitedly sat down to the meatloaf and salad that Lacy had prepared for dinner. They ate their fill, cleared the table, and then set about dressing for the trip underground.

After dinner, Allie wasn’t feeling so ready. Her stomach had been upset and though she was trying to hide it, her face had turned a slight shade of green. Lacy asked, “What’s the matter, honey?  Aren’t you feeling well?”

Instead of answering, Allie bolted for the bathroom, pulled open the door, and threw up into the toilet. Lacy followed her, but could only pat her on the back and sympathize. After a few moments, having already lost the contents of her stomach, Allie was feeling a little better.

“I’ve got to go get ready, Mom!” she said.

“Allie, you’re sick. You’ve just thrown up your dinner. You’re not running around in underground tunnels when you can’t keep your dinner down. Rinse out your mouth and then go get in bed. I’ll bring you a thermometer to check your temperature and some crushed ice to sip on. We can spend the evening together while the men explore.”

 By 6 they were ready to go and Jarom opened the trap door. With lockpicks, a can of WD-40 and graphite in his backpack, he started down the ladder. The chain ladder was still attached at the bottom so no one had apparently tampered with it, and soon they were all gathered in the round room. 

            They began walking west toward the locked chambers. In a few minutes, they had arrived and turned into the accessory tunnel on their left. Coming to the steel door, Jarom began assembling his equipment for the assault. His practice from the night before had improved his skills and he was eager to put them to use. He first inserted the nozzle of the tube of powdered graphite into the keyway of the lock and squeezed the tube. The black powder infiltrated the inner mechanism and a small cloud of graphite was expressed with each squeeze.  Then he took the spray can of liquid lubricant and attached the small plastic hose to the nozzle of the can.  Inserting the hose into the lock, he gave it a few short bursts.  He didn’t want to displace the graphite, but to disperse it in the medium of the liquid lubricant. Then he selected a thin, flat pick with a hook at the end and began to feel each pin in the lock, working it up and down to spread the lubricant through the springs under them. When he felt that each pin was working smoothly, he inserted the tension tool and with very light pressure, began to turn the cylinder. Then he began the work in earnest. With a flat, diamond shaped pick, he once again pushed each pin down and then let it spring up again. If it didn’t catch on the shear line where the edge of the cylinder met the edge of the hole the cylinder fit in, he reached in to the next pin and pushed it down. He continued the process until one pin finally stayed down on its own, caught on the edge of the slightly turned cylinder. 

            This was a complex lock, finely made, and with 8 pins. The fit of the pieces was very nearly perfect and getting one pin to catch before the others required extreme sensitivity and skill. Jarom was an amateur, but a devoted one. His practice had tuned up his ability and soon he had four pins catching on the shear line, and then five before the 3^rd one popped up again and he had to start over. Just sensing 8 different pins was a challenge, and manipulating each one independently was especially difficult. Patience and a light touch were the keys, and when it came to that, he had both. The others looked on with keen interest that flagged after a time. Soon they were inspecting the tunnel again, looking for other things they might have missed. 

John and Jason had wandered back as far as the entrance into the round room. Feeling along the wall with his hand, Jason shouted for John to come and look. There, in the last few feet of the tunnel, was a naturally camouflaged step in the rock face. He reached behind the outcropping and could feel a metal tube. Drawing it out into the tunnel, he could see it was an aluminum ladder made from tubing, with hooks on the end.  Jason lifted the ladder and knowing instantly what it was for, both boys raced to the center of the round room. Lifting the ladder as high as he could reach, Jason hooked the end over the bottom rung of the ladder in the shaft and stepping as high as he could, stepped on to the bottom rung. The short section swung like a pendulum, but in a moment he was on the fixed ladder in the shaft. He came back down and he and John talked excitedly.

“Jason, this is how he did it!” cried John. “Remember how he stole our ladder?  Remember how the closet door was stuck and then broke free when Jarom got knocked silly on the wall?  This is how he climbs up our ladder. There really is someone else down here.”

“I know,” fired Jason right back. “I bet he has a ladder like this stashed by all the other ladder-shafts. We just never looked close enough to find one.” 

Jason stowed the ladder back from where it had come and then he and John ran back down the tunnel to share the news. 

“Dad, Jarom!” shouted Jason as they got nearer. “Guess what we found!”

His father smiled when he saw his excitable son coming closer. “What did you find?” he asked.

“I was dragging my hand along the wall just before the tunnel goes into the big room, and my hand fell into a space in the wall. I reached behind the rock in front and I felt something, and when I pulled it out, it was a ladder!”

John added, “It has hooks on the end and we reached up and hooked it on the steel ladder in our shaft and then climbed up it into the shaft. That must be how the guy took our rope ladder. We think he has a ladder like this hidden by all of the shafts so he can check on them. Maybe he’s a guard.”

Frank thought for a minute, “I suppose it’s possible that there is a guard down here, but this place has been deserted for a long time. I can’t imagine posting a guard down here for all these years, and we have no way of knowing how recently that ladder had been used. It may have been there for the past 50 years for all we know. You still may not have found all the entrances to this tunnel system, and it’s possible that someone wandered in down here through another entrance, climbed up and untied your ladder, and then dropped down from a hanging position. Without proper lighting, it’s unlikely anyone would go far or stay long in here.

“What about when someone unlocked the closet door and sent Jarom into the wall?” argued Jason.

“It could have been just a stuck door. We just don’t know,” said Frank. “It is a great find, though and I bet it will come in handy. We do need to check the other tunnels at the kasernes to see if there are ladders hidden in them too.”   

            Just then, they heard a cry of elation. They ran back into the side detour from the main passage where Jarom had been working to find him standing there with an exultant grin on his face and an open padlock in his hand. It had taken him more than an hour of patient attempt after attempt, but his efforts had finally paid off.  Part of his reward was the incredulity on the faces of his brothers, and especially, his father. But the real reward was behind him. He turned and grabbed the handle of the steel bolt and strained to turn it perpendicular to the door. Then he began to wiggle it up and down while pushing it out of its seat in the rock wall.  Unfortunately, it was stuck. Even with Frank putting his muscle into the slide, it wouldn’t move. 

John finally said as he picked up Jarom’s backpack, “I think it needs some lubricant.  I wonder where we could get some?” and reaching into the pack he came out with the can of WD-40. He sprayed it on the unmoving parts of the bolt and then, once again, Frank and Jarom forced the handle up and down working the lubricant into the slide. Finally, they began pushing and pulling and the slide started to move out of the pocket in the rock wall sculpted to accommodate it. The bolt broke free of its seat and with all of them pulling, the door began to creak open.  When it was open far enough to get a shoulder in, Frank stepped half in and, pushing the door with his lower body wedged against the door frame, opened it far enough to allow them all to enter.

What they saw at first was another room just like the 13 empty ones they had visited further down the passageway. This one, however, was not empty. Along the walls were stacks of crates piled floor to ceiling. Arranged in rows throughout the rest of the room were more wooden crates and disintegrating cardboard boxes piled high. With open mouths they began to wander through the room. The crates were nailed shut and the labeling was in German, so they didn’t understand the writing. The cardboard boxes that once had stood in stacks had deteriorated and fallen over as the weight of the upper boxes crushed the lower. Spilling out of the boxes were thousands, and tens-of-thousands, of rounds of ammunition.

Frank said, “These cartridges are for rifles and pistols. They are usually packed in ammunition cans or crates, but nearing the end of the war, they may not have had the supplies to make cans and crates, so they must have used cardboard instead.”

“Dad, look here,” John interrupted.

Frank looked at the crate John was examining. They couldn’t read the text, but the numbers were surprising. One line read 10.5cm.  “That is a big round,” thought Frank, “like for a Howitzer.” But that was not what was surprising. Inked on the wood was the date of manufacture, Juli 1915. 

Talking to himself, Frank said, “1915. That was World War I.” To the boys he said, “See if you can find some more manufacturing dates.”

In a moment, Jarom had found dates on 3 crates and he read, “1914, 1916, 1917.” 

John found others with dates in the same date range.

“If this ammunition has been here since World War I, it’s no wonder it was never used. The weapons changed dramatically in the years between the wars and this would have been mostly useless, so maybe they just left it here in storage as opposed to hauling it to the surface and disarming it.” 

“That’s a good theory,” said John, “but the question it raises is, When were these tunnels built?”

“Yes, John. That is the question,” observed his Dad. “They certainly had the technology to dig these tunnels during World War I, but that would make them 25 or 30 years older than we had originally assumed. I had thought that if they were built in the 1940’s, that we might find someone around who had worked on them, but if they were built during the first war, then the engineers and laborers are long since dead.”

“Well, that partly solves two of our questions,” said Jarom.  “When were they built and why were they built?”   

“Boys, this is fascinating,” said their father, “But we left Mom alone taking care of a sick girl and we didn’t even discuss when we might be home.  We’ve gotten a lot accomplished, thanks to Jarom, but you have school tomorrow.  I don’t suppose there will be much traffic down here, so let’s close the door and leave it unlocked.  We’ll come back tomorrow. It looks like Jarom has more work to do.”

They all stepped into the corridor and put their backs into the door and the joints creaked as it slipped back into place.  Jarom ran the bolt home and was surprised to find that the lubrication and movement had loosened it enough that it slid in fairly easily.  Then they turned back toward the main tunnel. At the junction with the main tunnel, they noticed the air was fresher and that there was some movement, as if a door had been opened. John had speculated as to the purpose of the tall room where they had heard the traffic sounds was. The moving air had made him remember the room now and he turned to ask his father if he knew what its purpose might be.

“Dad,” asked John, “When we were walking down the southeast tunnel the other day, we came to a tall room that we couldn’t see the top of, even with all the lights aimed together. It was weird, but we could hear traffic noise. We were about half way to Taylor Barracks when we heard the noise. What do you think it might have been?”

Frank looked at his watch. The time was 8:30. While he had not told Lacy when they would be back, he thought he had better have them safely home by 10, and before if he wanted to maintain peace. “The high room is about ½ mile down that corridor?” he asked, pointing to the southeast. 

“Yes,” the boys spoke together, the sound echoing down the several tunnels.

“Then let’s move quickly and we’ll see that room before we head home,” and they started off at as fast a clip as they could manage in the semi-lighted passageway. In about 15 minutes, they could feel the walls falling away around them and, far in the distance and high above, they could hear the sound of the traffic.  The explorers listened carefully and could hear individual vehicles.  They were not roaring by, but maintained a level sound for several seconds before each was lost in the distance. 

Jason observed, “it almost sounds like the cars are going around in circles, but why would they do that?”

Frank had the answer. “Because they are going around in a circle!  The distance and direction are right for the high room to be located under the traffic circle that all the cars entering BFV must pass through. If there is an opening into the high room from the monument in the middle of the traffic circle, each car would maintain its distance from the monument until it left the traffic circle. As there are no stairs or even a way to use a ladder in here, my guess is that the opening was for ventilation. To maintain breathable air in a tunnel system, there must be at least 2 and maybe more ventilation shafts. They often have fans to blow air in or to extract from a tunnel system, but with the volume of air that we are using, passive ventilation is working just fine.”

Frank checked his watch again. “It’s 8:50.  Can we get to the end of the tunnel and back to the house in just over an hour?”

The boys assured him that they could, and instead of turning back to the round room and home, they turned toward what they assumed would be Taylor Barracks. The children had made this trip before and had not had a rope so they couldn’t reach the bottom of the steel ladder. This time, John was carrying his rope and they hoped they would be able to use it. 

They hurried along the passage, as fast as their lights would allow them to move. John was the first to reach the ladder-shaft and he took off his backpack and began to get the rope out.  Meanwhile, Jason was running his hand along the wall of the tunnel a few feet before he was at the shaft, and he sang out, “Another ladder!  I found another ladder hidden behind the wall.”

The others turned back to see what he had found and, just like in the west tunnel, there was a camouflaged alcove, just big enough for the storage of a 6 foot ladder. He had the ladder out from behind the rock ledge and began to walk toward the ladder-shaft. Reaching up, he hooked the ends of the aluminum ladder over the steel rung above, and then held it from swinging as if to say, “After you….”

Frank had not seen the bottom of one of the closed doors, so he went first with each of the boys following on behind. He ascended one step at a time until he came to the trap door that they had begun to expect. 

“Dad,” Jarom called. “Put your ear against the door and see if you can hear anything.”  The children had done this before and the advice was good. Opening a trap door in the floor of a room full of soldiers might be hard to explain. 

Frank did as he was instructed and whispered loudly back down the shaft, “It sounds perfectly still to me.” 

He looked up at the hinge and saw how it could be unlocked. He pushed the lock button and then gently lifted the front of the trap door.  It had obviously not been used in some time and he felt a rain of sand and dust spilling into his face and down his neck. The room was dark, but he saw flashes of light ahead. He climbed out into the building and saw windows in front of him. He walked over to the windows and could see the divided highway the building faced, with headlights flashing as the cars passed by. As the boys climbed up into the room, he turned to look down the length of the building. This appeared to be a headquarters building, but there was no furniture. He walked down the hall seeing only empty rooms and clean floors.  He had not been to Taylor Barracks, but he knew that the Army was slowly turning its long-held real estate back to the Germans and the quiet vacuity he saw there made him suspect that this was one of the kasernes that had already been returned. 

He said to the boys, “Guys, I think Taylor Barracks has already been returned to the Germans. The building is empty and there doesn’t seem to be any vehicles on the property.  There’s not much to see here and the clock is ticking, so let’s get back down the ladder and head for home.”

The boys looked around briefly and bewilderedly. They had gone to a lot of effort to identify where this tunnel had taken them, and it was anticlimactic to find that the destination had been abandoned. On the other hand, they were glad there didn’t appear to be any danger here, so they climbed back down the ladder, Frank closing and locking the trap door behind him.  Once on the floor of the tunnel, they stowed the short ladder again behind the ledge that concealed it and hurried back toward their home. They arrived at the chain ladder at 9:47 and then raced up to the 2^nd floor closet of their home. 

“Mom,” yelled Jason who was leading the pack up the ladder, “We’re home!” Lacy walked out of her bedroom with fire in her eyes.

“Frank,” she said with eerie intensity, “You said you would be back by 9 at the very latest.  I have picked up the phone half-a-dozen times to call the MPs, and then waited a few more minutes. If you hadn’t been back by 10, you would have had explaining to do to more than me.”

“Lace,” he said quietly. “We didn’t set a time tonight. That was Saturday night we said we’d be home by 9. We got a later start today so we were gone a little longer.”

“I expected we’d be playing by the same rules tonight,” she said frostily. I have been here alone with a sick girl and have been worried sick about you. This is just inconsiderate!”

The boys recognized a rare argument between their parents and faded into their room where they put on their pajamas and got ready for bed. 

“Honey, I’m so sorry we worried you. I wouldn’t do that on purpose for the world. It was just a misunderstanding.”

“Frank! You can be so infuriating. If I didn’t love you….” She let the unfinished statement hang in the air as she turned on her heel and walked back to their bedroom.  He followed her in, talking softly.

“How is Allie?” he asked, interested but also trying to change the subject.

“She has a fever and if she isn’t any better, she’ll be staying home from school tomorrow.  She’s asleep now.”

“Lacy, let me tell you what we found…”

“Not tonight, Frank. I don’t even want to hear about it,” and she climbed into bed, turned her back to him, and became silent as she pretended to go to sleep.

Chapter 12

            Lacy was a little ‘tense’ on Saturday morning.  She knew that restricting the exploration was a battle she would lose, so now she had to decide whether she would actually accompany the rest of the family on their descent into the dark or whether she would sit in her house worrying about what might be happening to her family. In the end, she finally decided that she would steel herself and join the expedition, while keeping what others might mistake for a smile on her face.  Frank and the boys headed for the Px at 9 when it opened and, she thought, should be back at any time. She had a quiet conversation with Allie about the danger she must have faced as the boys dragged her along with them, but she had a hard time getting such an admission from her daughter. All Allie would say was, “It’s cool Mom!  Just wait and see.”

            Lacy wasn’t so easily persuaded and when the conversation didn’t follow the pattern she’d hoped for, she veered into safer avenues of conversation like, “So how was the week in school,” and “Were you eating OK while I was gone?”

            This wasn’t really any more encouraging because Allie forthrightly admitted, “Oh, Mom.  I was so sleepy in school all week,” and “I was really tired of Macaroni and Cheese. I’m glad you’re home.” 

            Not really trying to detract from the ‘mission’, she prepared sandwiches that they could eat before embarking on the journey. When the men returned, they were glad to see the food and at the same time were impatient with one more delay. They thanked their mother sensing that getting on her good side was important, and consumed the food in record time. Even though they were anxious to leave, she had been invited along by their father and they would wait for her till she was prepared. It really didn’t matter when they started; as they had found out, once you are under ground and moving, time becomes a nebulous concept.

            Finally, all was ready. Frank had found a fire escape ladder that he packed in his backpack. The ladder had hooks at the top that would work well as an extension of the existing ladder. It was made out of chain so was very sturdy and would make Lacy much more comfortable with the trip. The boys had described to Frank in more detail what they might expect as far as physical exertion went, and he was congratulating himself on a wise choice in keeping his wife content, or at least passively accepting.  They donned their headlamps and switched them on and slipped their arms through the backpack straps. Ready to descend, they looked more like a team of miners than an Army family spending a nice afternoon together.

            Jarom pulled out the trusty screwdriver and pried up the front of the trap door, opening the shaft from above. Cool, damp air flooded out through the opening. Jarom was accustomed to leading the group, but Frank had the escape ladder. Exercising his paternal authority commandeered the first place in line. He sat in the opening and put his feet on the rungs of the ladder and began the descent. Jarom followed him and Jason and Allie were next. Lacy had watched the opening in the closet floor swallow most of her family and her reservations were still present, but by sheer force of will she sat with her legs dangling in the hole while John gave her encouragement. She put her weight on the rungs below the surface and began with a tentative step down to the next rung. With all the lights below her and the shaft blocked by the others, it didn’t seem so scary after all, and she continued with step after step until her arms and legs were almost moving of their own accord. John followed her and in short order they came to the bottom of the fixed ladder. The transition to the chain escape ladder was a little trickier, but with Jarom and Frank stabilizing the bottom so it didn’t swing, Lacy climbed easily down. 

            Gathered together in the round room, the parents gazed at the openings in wonder.  John explained how they had oriented themselves from the ladder’s position in the shaft which he had checked with a compass.  After he started to explain what lay in each of the branches of the tunnel complex, his father stopped him and asked, “How many times have you been down here?”

            John had to stop and count. After a moment, he replied, “Well, if you don’t count the first time we just came to the bottom of the ladder and then went back up, I guess it has been only 4 times. It kinda seems like more, but we have explored more than one tunnel some nights.”

            Frank was looking at things from the perspective of an engineer and could appreciate the work involved in boring the tunnels.  He said, “Someone had to have had a good reason for building this complex. The work to drive in these drifts and dispose of the muck would have been tremendous.” He explained that in mining, a drift is a horizontal tunnel and muck is the dirt that is removed.

            Jarom said, “Dad, we think that ammunition storage is why it was built. There is a big concrete building down the northwest tunnel that is labeled ‘Ammunition Storage Arsenal’ on Google Maps. The Germans might have been manufacturing their ammunition in the BASF plant that is in Mannheim, and then moving it underground to the Ammunition Storage Arsenal down that tunnel,” He said pointing to the northwest opening.

            Frank was aware that BASF was a chemical manufacturer located only a few miles away in Mannheim, but had been surprised when the children had told him it was so close and that one of the tunnels apparently ran underground to the plant.

            “I guess we have some mysteries to solve then,” said Frank. “Why were these tunnels built, who built them, and when?” 

The boys did not point out that those were the same things that they had been  trying to discover during the whole past week. 

“If what you kids told me is accurate, then maybe we should walk to the Ammunition Storage Facility and see if more clues present themselves.”

They all looked at each other, and then Jarom led the group down the northwest tunnel.  They spoke only a little during the next 40 minutes. Frank examined the walls of the tunnel as they walked and concluded that the bedrock in this area was very stable. It appeared that most of the tunnel had been blasted out of rock. The boys hadn’t understood that explosives were the time-honored way of breaking rock in a tunnel.

Frank explained, “Holes are bored into the rock face in a radial pattern and an explosive is placed into the holes. When the explosion occurs, the rock is broken into pieces which are then removed and hauled off. Another charge is laid to fracture the rock again and the process is repeated.  Sledge hammers are employed to make little rocks out of big rocks so they can be more easily hauled.”

“If the tunnel is cut through solid rock and the ceiling is well supported, timbers may not be necessary to keep it from collapsing.  If the ceiling is made of fractured rock, then concrete or wood beams may be used to support it, tying the fragments together so that it doesn’t collapse or so loose pieces won’t fall into the tunnel.”

“Sometimes the normal geologic processes create a natural tunnel we call a cave through the work of water or earthquakes. Some stone is soft and flowing water may eat away at the rock. The rock in this tunnel is hard and probably required dynamite to build.”

“Frank,” asked Lacy in a tremulous voice, “Are we safe under here?  Is there danger of the tunnels collapsing?”

He replied, “These tunnels were driven a long time ago and the roof seems to be either solid rock, or well shored up. There is little caving anywhere. I would say we are very safe.”

Shortly they arrived at the Ammunition Storage Arsenal and Frank and Lacy marveled at the big room they stood in with the staircase up one side. They climbed up the staircase and reached the top. Frank pointed out the mounts where a huge crane must have been mounted at one time.

Frank continued to explain, “A crane would have been built over this hole where the supplies and equipment was lowered down and the muck extracted. Before cranes were available, muck was moved the old fashioned way-on the backs of workers. It is curious that they removed the crane and poured a concrete slab over the whole of it.  Maybe they were trying to prevent either entry or discovery.”

He seemed satisfied that, with this entrance, the tunnels could have been dug. The presence of the chemical factory so near explained the availability of the explosives. They climbed back down the stairs and began walking back along the corridor. The children felt better that their parents not only believed them now, but were exploring the tunnels with them. They reached the round room and Frank questioned with some respect in his voice, “And you’ve been down all these tunnels to the end?”

Jarom replied for the group, “Sure, Dad. We wanted to see if we could find the answers the questions you asked before.”

 “Then I don’t think we need to go down each one of these passages if you have already been through them,” said Frank. “ Why don’t you give us the highlights and if there is something you think we should see, we’ll take a look.”

John brought out his hand-drawn map with the eight different paths they had taken. “Straight north is an underground river that runs from east to west about 2000 feet away. We compared our measurements with the map on the computer and think that the river is under the Wald. The Google Earth map says that there is a road called Wasserwerkstrasse that ends at some buildings and fields right above there. That means ‘the street that goes to the water works’.”

“Straight east the tunnel is only about ½ mile long and ends at Sullivan Barracks. There is another ladder-shaft there but we didn’t open the trap door because we didn’t have our rope and couldn’t get up the ladder. We boosted Allie up and she said it looks just like the one in our house.”

“Southeast the tunnel runs about 1 ½ miles to Taylor Barracks, but we couldn’t get up that ladder either because we still didn’t have our rope. About half way along the tunnel is a room with another opening high above and if you’re quiet there, you can hear the traffic sounds from the surface.”

“South the tunnel runs about 1 ½ miles to Spinelli Barracks. Jarom and I figured out how to walk up the walls and then grab hold of the ladder to climb up.” Frank and Lacy listened without interrupting and John continued, “The trap door opened into a room like the soldiers use when they are off-duty. We went into the room and looked out the windows and there was a parade field, but we heard people coming so we went back down the ladder and closed the door.”

“Southwest, there is a cave-in and we couldn’t go very far, but we figured it went to Turley Barracks. Only about ¼ mile down that tunnel is a wooden staircase that goes clear to the top. When someone took our ladder, we were had to find another way out. We climbed up the old staircase and it ended at a slab of rock.  Jarom and I were able to lift the rock up while Jason pried it with a board, and when we had it moved, we climbed up into a tomb in the middle of the cemetery.”

“A tomb in the cemetery?” cried Lacy.

“Yeah, Mom,” said Jarom.  “It is really cool!  Wait ‘til you see it.”

John continued, “About 6 miles away to the east is the BASF plant.”

Frank interrupted, “6 miles?”

“Yeah, that’s what we figured looking at the map. There is a gate made of iron bars across the tunnel, and you can see what looks like the bottom of a big building. A sign says IG Farben on the gate, but it’s locked and doesn’t look like it’s been used in a long time. Down the same tunnel are also three big steel doors, all locked with padlocks.”

“The last tunnel is to the northwest and it’s the one that opened next to the airfield at Coleman Barracks.”

“Where they arrested us,” piped in Allie. 

John finished the orientation saying, “And only about ¾ of a mile down the same tunnel is a gate with a stairway, but looking on the map, I can’t figure out where it goes.”

Frank said, “Well I have to say I am impressed with the area you’ve covered while we’ve been gone. I won’t repeat the fact of our disappointment with you for doing all this behind our backs, but now that you’ve uncovered something apparently long ago forgotten, what do you think we should do?”

There was a long pause while everyone thought about what their father had said.  Frank said, “Here are some considerations. First, there are security concerns. This is an unsupervised pathway into all of the American installations in Mannheim. Second, we don’t know who ‘owns’ this system, or at least who is responsible for it. If the tunneling was done by the German Army in World War II, I suppose the Americans could claim responsibility now, but that isn’t clear. Not only do the tunnels run between the kasernes, but they’re under German territory that has nothing to do with the American kasernes. Third, as you’ve discovered, someone else has been in here. We don’t know what his purpose is in being here. He could be a homeless person who found a way in as you did, or he could be a guard from an organization we know nothing about. Fourth, you’ve detailed the tunnel system as it appeared to you, but it may be more complex than you realize. The tunnels are like spokes of a wheel and the end-points are at the rim.  There may be concealed passages that go between the endpoints, following along the rim that you just haven’t discovered. Fifth, we don’t really know when or how the system was constructed, or even why. You’ve made some guesses that may or may not be correct. Sixth, the end of one tunnel extends to a private enterprise that may have an interest in the system.”

“I don’t see how we can keep this a secret. Whoever this belongs to, it is not us. You have stumbled upon it, but that gives you no ownership over it. It seems to me that I should present the evidence to the post commander along with Colonel Taylor and let them take it from there.”

“But Dad,” cried Jarom who was supported by his brothers, “There is more to see! If you tell them, they will lock the whole place up and we’ll never get the chance. Can’t we wait a little while before we tell them? After all, it’s already been waiting for years and years.”

“You’re right about them locking this up, I’m afraid. There will be some initial exploration, but I think it will become political between the US government and the German government. We can’t be seen as interfering with something that isn’t ours. You can be seen as heroes for bringing this to light or criminals for trying to keep it hidden.”

Frank thought about it for a moment and then said, “I’ll wait a week from Monday, but here are the rules: I will accompany you on any trips down into these tunnels. No exceptions. And when the week is up, there will be no begging or pleading or complaining. We will just live with the consequences. Agreed?”

The children looked at their father and then all solemnly nodded their heads.

Lacy interrupted, “OK, Frank. One week and you stay with the children. I think I’ve had enough. I would like to go up now.”

Frank said, “OK, Sweetheart. Let me get you up to the house, and then we can spend the afternoon down here.”

Frank held the chain ladder still and Lacy began climbing up. She hadn’t admitted it to any of them, but she was discovering that she didn’t like enclosed places. She was concerned about her children as any mother would be, but much of her nervousness came from the claustrophobia she had been battling since she had even thought of climbing down inside the depths of the earth. She hated the blackness all around her and she hated the walls that felt like they were closing in. At times it was hard to breathe until she calmed herself down. She was satisfied that she didn’t have to be along to protect her brood, so she was ready to go home. Frank followed her up the ladder and when they had climbed through the trap door and she turned her headlamp off, she sucked in a cleansing breath and felt her muscles go limp with relief. He held her close for a moment and said, “Don’t worry Honey, we’ll be fine.  You just relax and we’ll be back in a few hours.” 

“Where are you going to go?” she asked.

“I think we’ll walk down the west tunnel toward the BASF plant. I’d like to see the steel doors that the John says are locked as well as the IG Farben entrance. I think the key to this whole system is there, and if we’re going to turn it over to the authorities, I’d like to give them an explanation for its existence at the same time.”

“So when are you going to be back?” she demanded.

They hadn’t even begun climbing into the shaft until 11:30 and the exploring they had already done had consumed the next two hours, so it was nearly 2 PM. 

“We’ll be back by 8, but don’t call out the Army until 9 just in case,” he said jokingly.

She was not joking. “Ok, that should give you plenty of time to fool around down there, but if you’re not back by 9, I will call out the Army.” 

He tried to hug her again but it would have been more pleasant hugging a stone statue.  The stone couldn’t exude its displeasure like she could when she was unhappy. Turning to go back down the shaft, he said, “I love you, Lace,” and then he was gone.

It took only a few minutes for him to rejoin the rest of the family who had been impatiently waiting for him. “What do you want to see?“ asked Jarom.

“Let’s go down the west tunnel. I’d like to see the steel doors you mentioned and the IG Farben building.”

Jarom led the group down the west tunnel. John pointed out that the other tunnels were narrower, but that this passage and the one to the Ammunition Storage Arsenal were much wider and taller in comparison. They reached the first of the side tunnels and Jarom turned into it. In a moment they came to the massive steel door that blocked their access to whatever was beyond. In an instant, Jarom had his lock picks out and began attempting to open the padlock. Frank watched without commenting. He knew his son had acquired the picks and had given him several old locks to practice with. Jarom had developed some skill in the arcane art of opening a lock without a key, but was not yet a pro. 

A lock has a metal cylinder with a keyhole in it made of brass with spring-loaded pins of varying lengths that extend out of it.  The cylinder fits into a perfectly matching hole in the body of the lock.  The hole the cylinder fits in to has a series of perpendicular holes called chambers drilled in it corresponding to the pins arrayed along the cylinder. The pins that extend out of the cylinder fit into the holes in the body of the lock and keep the cylinder from being turned.  When the proper key is fitted into the keyhole in the cylinder, the bumps on the key elevate the pins precisely so that they no longer protrude from the cylinder and it is free to turn, unlocking the shackle on the lock.  To open a lock with lock picks, first a tension tool is inserted into the keyway and a small amount of tension is applied to turn the cylinder. Then, the pick reaches into the keyway and depresses each pin in turn until the pin catches on the edge of the drilled hole instead of extending into it. When all the pins have been depressed exactly the right amount, the pins no longer are extending from the cylinder and the tension tool turns it, just as a key would have. High quality padlocks are made with precision and are more difficult to pick.

The padlock on the steel door was a high quality lock, but it also had hung on this door unopened, presumably for decades. The moisture and the dust in the tunnel air had taken its toll on the lock, and the pins were very dry and stiff. It cried out for oil or graphite to lubricate the works, but Jarom hadn’t brought any. The explorers looked on for what seemed like forever without any progress. Jarom correctly noted that oil would help, but having none, he continued to try and open the lock.  He was patient, but the others were less so, and Frank felt the deadline that had been given him was creating an urgency that he couldn’t ignore. 

“Jarom, I think we had better go on. We have the rest of the week and we can bring some oil back and give you another chance,” his Dad said. 

Jarom wasn’t a quitter, but he could see wisdom in coming back again, especially when these doors were so close to their home ladder-shaft. They move away from the door and down the corridor, passing back into the main tunnel. The kids showed their father the matching passageway and door on the other side of the main tunnel and Jarom took a quick turn at its padlock, but found it as recalcitrant as the first. When they came to the third opening from the side of the main tunnel, their trip in to the door was quicker. Frank studied the warning on the door.  He noticed it was much different from the first two, which as far as he could tell, was a warning against danger.  He wrote down the phrase he found on this door, Geben Sie die Hoffnung, die ihr hier eingeben. He would look it up when he got back to the house.

They continued down the main corridor and were more carefully examining the sides of the tunnel as they went. They were surprised that they had walked right past several openings on both sides that the pattern in the rock walls naturally camouflaged. They turned off into one and found another massive steel door bolted shut, but without the lock. Frank worked the bolt and slid it free and then pulled the door open. They entered a spacious room, maybe 200 feet on a side, with rock pillars supporting the 10 foot  roof at regular intervals. It was clear something had been stored in here, but there was no clue as to what it might have been.  Exiting the room and finding another surreptitiously located opening, they found another door.  It was not locked either. Frank opened the bolt and pulled the door open.  They found themselves looking into a room identical to the first. Their headlamps seemed bright in the tunnels and their night vision was acute after so long underground, but it was difficult to see the extent of the rooms. They moved about the room trying to find a clue as to its original purpose without success. They did note that the door had a numerical marker on it, reading # 16. 

Proceeding down the main tunnel again and knowing what to look for, they saw the openings they had missed on their first trip. Each opening led to a door that matched the others, with the numerical designator decreasing as they approached the IG Farben plant, first on their left and then on their right. They entered each one briefly to check for any differences, but the rooms were nearly identical except for the location of some of the rock column supports. Increasingly mystified as he continued toward the IG Farben plant, Jarom became more and more committed to open the doors with the locks.  At last they came to the entrance to the building foundation. The bars in the door made it actually resemble a jail cell. Frank examined the door carefully, and he too could see how the BASF sign had been painted over with new lettering to read IG Farben.

John suggested, “Let’s all aim our headlamps together through the bars to see the building more clearly.”

            A good idea, they grouped together and with the beams consolidated, could see tall, double doors opening into the foundation of the building. The tunnel was hollowed out into a room surrounding the building foundation so that the poured concrete footings were visible, as were the courses of stacked stone blocks rising from them. The path leading from the doors was well-worn, and the apron surrounding the building on both sides of the path was flat and extended to a few hundred feet on either side.

            Frank said, “This might have been a staging area where materials were stacked before being taken into the tunnel. The tunnel is big enough that something motorized might have been used to haul the goods down the passageway to the storage rooms we passed.”

            John asked, “The BASF plant is on the west side of the Rhine River which is the opposite side BFV is on.  Do you think we actually passed under the river or do you think this building is on the east side of the river?”

Frank replied, “We are definitely deep enough to have passed under the river. Although tunneling has become much more efficient than it used to be, drilling and blasting have been around for a long time. Dynamite started being used in the 1860’s, and since then it has been used worldwide. The “Chunnel” that was built just recently extends even under the English Channel between France and England.”

Checking the time, Frank told his children, “We told Mom we would be back by 6 and it will be close, so let’s get started back.”

Reluctantly, they began the long walk home. 

“I just can’t believe we missed all those rooms when we came through here last time,” remarked Jason.  “Now that we know they are there, I can see them easily.”

“Our light is not very good and they blend into the rock, but they changed the entrances for the three tunnels that we did find,” commented John.  “Dad, how do you think workers could see in the tunnel when they were working on it?”

“In the smaller tunnels, they may have had to use lanterns or headlamps like miners used to use that ran on carbide. Carbide is a mineral that is mined and, when water touches it, reacts to form acetylene, a flammable and explosive gas. Headlamps were designed with a small tank the miner filled with carbide and a water reservoir above. It could be adjusted to slowly drip water into the lower tank which produced the gas that came out of a nozzle in the middle of a reflector. The gas was ignited and produced a very hot white flame and light. This tunnel is larger and more traffic went through here all the way to the Ammunition Storage Arsenal. Look at the ceiling. They probably had electric lights in here. You can still see some of the small hooks that held the wire if you look closely from here.”

Everyone shone their lamps at the ceiling and while many were missing, they could see the trail of hooks extending down the tunnel. 

“I wonder why they took out all the wire?” asked Jason. 

“By the end of the war, materials were precious. They may have needed it. Or they may have been removing all evidence of the tunnels use. It’s hard to say,” pondered Frank as they walked. 

Their feet and legs were tired. A 6 mile hike each way and exploring the storage rooms had eaten away at their reserves, and so hungry and worn out, they arrived at the chain ladder and began climbing out through their upstairs closet at a few minutes to 8.  Walking single file down the stairs and snapping their headlamps off, they grouped into the living room before their mother. Frank and the boys could feel her continued displeasure and were unusually quiet and looked sheepish, but Allie, who had been pretty quiet on the whole trip, poured out the story to her mother excitedly.

“Hi, Mom!  We went back down the tunnel and then started going west,” she said pointing somewhat randomly in the direction she thought west might be. “We came to these big doors with padlocks and Jarom tried to pick the locks, but he couldn’t so we walked and walked and walked.  There were lots of other big rooms that we found that we didn’t see before and we looked in them, but there was nothing there, so we went under the river and came to a gate. We could see through the gate to an old building, but the doors were closed. Then we walked all the way back.  I’m hungry! Is it dinner time yet?”

Lacy had to smile and Allie had broken the ice, so they all started talking at once. She got up and started for the kitchen, laying out bread and cheese and sliced chicken and the other sandwich creation materials she found in the refrigerator. Once they could sense that their mother still loved them, they started babbling happily while they made their own sandwiches.  They sat down to eat together and expanded on Allie’s explanation somewhat.

Jarom said, “I tried and tried to open the locks on the storage room doors, but the locks were really old. I need some oil to try again.”

Lacy looked thoughtful, “Do you suppose there is a reason those doors are locked?  They don’t belong to you.  Maybe you shouldn’t be trying to get into them.”

All of the explorers stopped and looked at her. They knew she was right, and yet no one had opened those locks for possibly decades. It seemed to them that what was in those rooms was the key to the mystery of the whole tunnel system.

Speaking for all of them, their father said, “You’re right, dear. They don’t belong to us, but as far as we can tell, they don’t belong to anyone. I think this whole complex is forgotten in time. If there is something valuable in there, we will certainly make sure that it gets to the proper owner, but what we are looking for is answers, and I think the answers are most likely in those rooms.”

Somewhat mollified, she changed the subject. “It is getting on toward bedtime. We’re all tired and we have church in the morning, so when you’re done eating, let’s get this cleaned up and get showered and to bed.”

They finished their meal and everyone helped tidy up the kitchen before they stumbled upstairs to their rooms.  Both showers were going in a few minutes and within 45 minutes, the children were all in bed. Frank and Lacy sat in the living room together for a few minutes before going upstairs themselves.

“Frank,” she said quietly. “I understand that this is exciting for the kids and for you too, but I don’t want my children exposed to danger. I know we can’t control everything in their lives, and I don’t want to, but I don’t want to put them in a situation where they will face dangers unnecessarily.”

“I understand, Sweetheart. I don’t want them in danger either, but I haven’t seen anything yet that is dangerous apart from climbing a ladder. As I told you before, I will be with them and in a week, we’ll turn whatever we’ve found over to the military authorities. For now, they are getting to live an adventure that every child dreams of and that they will remember for the rest of their lives.”

“Well it is not an adventure I ever dreamed of, but I suppose you’re right. I trust you to be careful,” and she stood and took his hand and they walked up the stairs together.