The Road to Interrogation

After three days in the Amsterdam jail cells, Jim Hoel and the other three B-26 Marauder survivors were taken into a room and joined by a fifth man, a British P47 pilot who had also been shot down on May 17, 1943. The five men were incarcerated there alone until six German guards entered. These guards were Luftwaffe (meaning air corps), not SS guards and they all had rifles and two of them had potato mashers, which were hand grenades with big wooden handles on them, crossed in their belts.

Jim and the others sat around the edge of the room with a table in the middle and in came an officer and he had a package in his pocket. He opened up the package and which was full of paper containers of gunpowder. The enlisted men then stood up, took off their potato mashers, went over to the table, opened them up, and put in a charge of the explosive powder (dynamite perhaps). They then put the potato mashers back in their belts. Jim was sure this was to arm them so that if they needed to use them, they would; but on the other hand, Jim thought it was to leave a good psychological impression on the Allied airmen to let them know that that the Germans were not fooling at all.

With that, they put the five prisoners in a truck and took them to the railroad station. In May of 1943, there had been little or no bomb damage done anywhere in this area. It was a beautiful spring day. They were taken into a typical European train with the long hallway all the way down one side of the train and then compartments off of that; each compartment probably held six people. Jim and the other prisoners occupied, with the guards, two of the compartments.

The train trip ran from Amsterdam, Holland, down the Rhine River to Frankfurt, Germany, and it was an absolutely beautiful, gorgeous trip. There had been no bombing of any kind along the Rhine River. From this vantage point, one wouldn't have know there was a war going on. (Much later, at the end of the War, Jim travelled this route in the other direction and the region was devastated and unrecognizable from the subsequent bombing.)

The train stopped at Cologne for some time and there seemed to be a lot of commotion in the railroad yards; a great deal of confusion; many people moving around and shouting. It turned out that the previous night, the RAF had bombed Cologne and hit it pretty hard. The men were told that one of the bombs hit the back of the cathedral at Cologne and did severe damage which the Allies claimed never said happened, but in truth, Jim believed it had been hit.

As they were waiting, the German guards who had traveled with Jim and the other prisoners, seemed to relax, undo their belts and weren't as attentive to the airmen as they had been before. Jim figured the reason for was that the Germans knew they would have no way or nowhere to go if they tried to escape now.

About that time, while the train was parked in the "marshaling" yards of Cologne, an SS officer (SS stands for Schutzstaffel which literally means 'protective squadron') came into the compartment. Jim can’t remember what his rank was, but from the minute he entered he was mad and he was mean.

He saw the relaxed way these guards were guarding the airmen and he started sailing into them. He got all of the men, Germans and Allies alike, to stand up, get out in this long train corridor and berated the whole group up one side and down the other. Jim gathered that he was just mad because of the bombing the night before and he was going to take it out on somebody.

Jim was standing next to him and hadn't had a bath for a few days; hadn't combed his hair; and hadn't shaved, so Jim didn't suppose he looked very respectable. At any rate, the SS officer was spit and polish in dress, and as he was waving his arms around, he hit Jim's jacket and suddenly stopped and stood dead still. He looked at the sleeve of his uniform that had brushed against Jim and he brushed it off just as though he had just touched a pig or something or other. And with that, he took a swing at Jim and knocked him down in the aisle.

Jim was pretty mad at this point, pent up with frustration from the crash, the loss of his friends and the last three days in captivity and he didn't know what he was going to do; but one of the guards who was standing right there put his foot out so that Jim couldn't get back anywhere near the SS officer. Jim believes that this guard knew that if Jim had approached him, the SS officer would likely have pulled out his pistol and killed Jim on the spot.

They continued down this beautiful trip until they arrived in Frankfurt, Germany, and this time were placed in the central "gulag", where again, the now five airmen were isolated; each one put in an individual cell. This place was really a jail, and it was pretty sophisticated. If they had to use the bathroom, they pulled a little cord and a guard would come to the door and escort them to the latrine, never saying a word. Nobody talked to us at all.

Eventually, Germans of all ranks began coming in one at a time to Jim’s cell and the interrogation process began.

Tomorrow – The Interrogations

An Apology to Readers About Comments

The site hosting this blog will be down for awhile today so I wanted to clear up a question I received via email from a number of readers. Each email told me that they were unable to leave comments to the Posts at the link at the bottom of each daily Post that says "Comments". I, being a relative novice at this process, discovered yesterday that I had inadvertently limited the ability to leave comments to only registered subscribers to or followers of the "War Watch" blog.

This has now been changed and anyone can leave a comment to any post whether the most recent or any past post which you can find by scrolling down the main page or in the Archives Section in the right hand column.

We encourage comments for several reasons. First, we would love to have input from others who were involved in any phase of World War II, and particularly from those men or family members of the men who flew in B-26 Marauders; were involved in the May 14, 1943 or May 17, 1943 Ijmuiden Missions; or spent time in Stalug Luft III or any other Stalug Luft prisoner of war camp. We would even welcome the opportunity to post your own personal recollections of a specific event. Simply make that request in the Comment section we will contact you.

Second, as we work our way through he volumes of letters home from my father, the German and American documents "tracking" his journey through the War and the resource material we have received from many helpful sources, particularly from Michael E. Smith at http://www.b26.com/, we want to make certain we correct any errors that we may make.

Finally, we would love to have ideas about any particular part of our father's story that you would like learn or hear more about.

Thank you all for your patience. We appreciate your interest in and support of "War Watch". If you still have problems leaving comments please email us directly at rickhoel@yahoo.com.

Tomorrow - Interrogation

Jail in Amsterdam

Sometime later, now it was early evening on May 17, 1943, Jim Hoel and the other three B-26 Marauder survivors were put in another truck which drove right into the heart of Amsterdam into what Jim considered to be the largest public building in the middle of Amsterdam. There, they were all put in jail cells in a basement.

It was an old building and these cells looked like the old gulags of torture days. Each was a concrete cell in itself and had a massive steel door. Each prisoner was placed in an individual cell, again, so they couldn't talk with each other. They hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. In the room was a bed (just a wooden bench) and a chair and a window way up on a wall with some bars on it that you couldn't get to anyway. They spent their first night in captivity in this Amsterdam jail.

Jim and the others stayed in this jail for 3 days. During this period, all they knew was that their B-26 Marauder had gone down and that their turret gunner and tail gunner had either been killed prior to the time that it went down or killed in the crash. It is still Jim’s belief that with all the fire that hit their Marauder, the rear end of the airplane probably drew most of the heavy fire and they probably were killed or wounded prior to the crash landing in the Maas River.

They had no idea what had happened to the rest of the squadron, except for Colonel Stillman’s lead plane, and they all assumed that all on board his B-26 were killed in the crash. This was the only crash they witnessed before they went down. As far as Jim and the other three were concerned, maybe all of the other B-26 Marauders on the 450th and 452nd Squadrons were back at the base, safe and sound.

Meals consisted of a piece of dark bread in the morning with a cup of ersatz (Jim thought, correctly, that meant “fake”) coffee. (During the War, "ersatz" became a frequently used pejorative description used by the thousands of U.S., British, and other English-speaking soldiers, primarily airmen, who were captured and placed in POW camps. POWs were served Ersatzkaffee or “substitute” coffee by their German guards, who had no real coffee to offer. Obviously, this substitute drink, a Getreidekaffee or "grain coffee", was not a favorite of the POWs, who missed their real coffee.). At noon, Jim and the others were served a bowl of watery soup and at night, another piece of bread.

One day, a German guard brought a fish to Jim, five or six inches long, on a plate with a little sauce next to it. The fish had been cleaned (the insides taken out), but it hadn't been cooked in any way. So the guard sat it down at Jim’s door and he saw that Jim didn't seem to know what to do with it, so he opened the door. (Food was typically slid under the door in a little slot in the door of his cell.). The guard who seemed like a nice guy stepped in and without a word, he picked the fish up and dipped it in this little sauce and then went as if to bite and to chew it. When he left, Jim picked up the raw fish and ate it as shown. It wasn't too bad at all.

During these first few days, Jim’s parents had probably received news of the May 17, 1943 322nd Group’s May 17 Ijmuiden Mission disaster but had no idea whether Jim was dead or alive. Jim’s first chance to write something home was on May 21, 1943 when he arrived at Staling Luft III. He wrote a brief note on a type of post card with the word “Kriegsgefangenenlager” at the top left, which means prisoner of war camp. Jim’s message home was brief:

Dear Folks – I hope you haven’t worried too much about my welfare. We met up with a bit of bad luck but I’m most thankful to say I’m O.K. now. We have been put in a German camp where we will evidently be held for the duration. As soon as I find out how you can write I will let you know. All my love, Jim.

It appears this post card was mailed on May 29, 1943. It is not clear when Omer and Olive Hoel, Jim’s parents received it.

A Glimpse of Freedom

As described in Jim Hoel’s letter to his mother written during the late evening of May 16, 1943, it hardly seemed as if a war was been fought as he rode his bike through the English countryside appreciating the beauty of the English garden in the early summer. Our father always created beautiful gardens in our yard as we grew up and his love for our gardens perhaps originated in these peaceful settings. He also wrote that he expected the Axis to crumble soon. He was optimistic, but unfortunately he was wrong. The next day, May 17, 1943, Jim was a captured airman after his B-26 Marauder was shot down. Sitting on the banks of the Maas River he had no idea what would happen next

Three of four hours later a small pickup truck with a canvas top on it backed up to the German "gun emplacement" and again, Jim had no idea what was going on. The four survivors from the B-26 Marauder were then summoned. Four guards from the truck came over. They had rifles drawn and they pointed to all four of the men to get into the truck, which they did.

The four Marauders sat in the truck, on the inside, with the four guards toward the back, and started driving someplace but at that point they didn't know where. Wherever Jim and the others were, it was clear that it was a rush hour because all around the truck (it had to be Amsterdam or a suburb) were bicycles, just dozens and dozens of bicycles. They were all workers evidently travelling home from work. The four Americans would occasionally, when the guards were looking out in back, give a “thumbs up” to this Amsterdam crowd and they would all wave and shout and cheer. Eventually, the German guards knew something was going on, so they stopped that in a hurry by turning around and threatening Jim and the others.

They were taken to what appeared to be some type of police headquarters. It was a stucco building and the Marauders were taken to the second floor into a room with three guards sitting there and holding them at bay.

One of the guards took one of the Jim’s crew out of the room. Jim had no idea where he was taken and the German guards still wouldn't let the Americans talk to each other. The first airman didn’t return. A little while later, the second guard took a second airman out of the room and they didn't come back. Still later, the third guard took another airman away, leaving Jim alone in the small room.

In an instant, Jim recalled what little escape training he had received. An RAF flying officer had given the Americans a short briefing on what happens. And all of a sudden, it dawned on Jim, that he had said, "The only and best time to escape is immediately when you've been captured". To this point Jim and the others had no opportunity to escape - until now. Jim then recalled that the RAF officer had also said, "The only other time is just any time after you've been captured whenever you see a good opportunity. But do it before you get into Germany because once you get into Germany, you're literally locked in a German prison and chances to escape diminish dramatically.”

All of a sudden it dawned on Jim and he walked over to the window in this second story building with the idea that he might just drop himself out of the window and take off. He looked down and there was a cobblestone street down below and rather than being just a second story, it was a high, high second story and he thought, "Well, I might drop myself down there and might break an ankle or something or other."

Before Jim had any chance to make up his mind one way or the other, the door opened and he turned around. One of the guards had returned, saw Jim standing by the window evidently looking like he was going to do something. The German guard got very nervous and he pointed his gun at Jim. Jim thought he was going to shoot him and put his hands up and said, "No, no, no." And at that point, Jim didn't know who was the most nervous, the German guard or him. At any rate, Jim sat down and that was the end of that.

The next opportunity for escape would not occur until much later with the carefully engineered and constructed tunnels at Stalug Luft III.

A Letter Home

(A personal note - Perhaps nine years ago, my wife Pam, worked with my father to tape his story. She also went through volumes of American and German documents and an unbelievable amount of letters home from my father before and during his years as a POW. Pam did this because her father’s health was failing and she had done the same with him, recording his life for future
generations. Pam feels that everyone’s life has a story to tell. The fact that all of these documents recording my father’s war years exist today is a tribute to my father's mother, Olive Hoel, who kept every conceivable record. Today, I received from my father the two very large binders of these documents and letters that Pam had organized and I was overwhelmed reading through even a small amount of the documents, particularly the letters home from my father at age 22. As I said at the beginning, I am not certain how this story will evolve but hopefully it will be told now more through my father's own words during the War. Today’s post is simply the letter sent from my father to his mother on May 16, 1943, the day before his B-26 was shot down. It is clear that my father had no idea what was to occur the very next day.)

May 16, 1943

Dear Mother,

The last couple days have been so beautiful outside all the time; so this is the reason for such few letters. We have also found a little action and will continue in it now and then. Things are much as we expected them for which we are glad. And now we are mighty proud of our B-26’s. Your papers probably carried an account of the “un-named” medium bombers who struck with much success the other day.

I suppose to-night you are all sitting about with Mil (my father’s sister, Milnore, who was a WAVE in the service), if she got home for her leave as you said she would. I am quite confident I won't be too long over here. The whole Axis program is meeting with less and less success each day. Soon they will be up against the wall just as their forces were in Africa.

This morning it hardly seemed as if a war was being fought. The sun was out so nice I took a long bike ride on some of the smaller roads. Everyone seemed so cheerful as I met them working about their houses. The country side is just beautiful this time of year. Flowers seemed to grow everywhere and all mixed together to give a beautiful picture. I only saw one car the whole time I was out, and quite oddly enough it was an American Jeep. This afternoon we got back to work and I flew a couple hours leading some new navigators in a formation. As I expected they were lost 10 minutes from the field and they couldn't locate themselves on the map. For us it is quite easy now and we can spend a little more time on such trips sightseeing.

I'm sure the more flying Grant (My father’s cousin) does in a B-24 the less he will like it. There is no support to it and I would dread the thought now climbing up to 20 or 30 thousand feet every time I went on a mission. They have to contend with the cold and the use of oxygen. Everyone of the B-17 or B-24 boys I've talked with wish they could be transferred to B- 26’s. None of us liked them at first but now wouldn't trade for anything.

How are you folks holding up with the rationing? I don't imagine you are starving. We had a dance in the officer's club last night and one of the girls I was dancing with said my hair was turning gray at the temples. I became alarmed so I ran into the boy's room and looked - quite to my relief I found it was just blond. I guess I haven't changed any from last September except that I'm little fatter.

My hut has a door at either end and in this weather we keep both of them open. One is not more than 15 feet from the main highway so people riding by can look right in. I mention this because just a few minutes ago a whole family came peddling their bikes by. I heard the man say to the kids “See, that's where the American soldiers sleep.”

Ken Tulpin wrote the other day. He said he was getting along okay but thought he'd have to spend the summer out there. I guess he's put on a lot of weight which he certainly could use. I have a few other letters I'd like to write tonight so we'll close this now.

Love,

Jim

Twelve hours later my father's B-26 was shot down , 40 of his squadron friends were killed and Jim Hoel's life changed forever.

Origins

Please click on the slide show under "Related Links" titled MARGRATEN Netherlands American Cemetery Slide Show . It is a moving tribute to my father's recent visit with my brother Gil to find the graves of our father's fellow airmen and friends lost during the War.

As Jim and the three other crewmen sat for those three or four hours on the shores of the Maas Canal, Jim doesn’t specifically recall all that went through his mind. After all, that was 66 years ago. Soon Jim and the others would be loaded onto trucks and transferred to an interrogation point. Jim did think of his parents, Omer and Olive Hoel, living in Evanston, Illinois, and worried about them receiving the “missing in action” telegram and how long it would be before they learned that he had survived, if he did.

Jim might have thought of his grand-father, Olaf Hoel, the first of our family to set foot on these shores in July of 1868. Born in Tonset, Norway in 1841, Olaf was the eighth of ten children and he had come through New York Harbor, no less excited, I’m sure, than my father, when many years later, he was to return from the War, through the Harbor.

Starting with the invasion of Norway three years earlier on April, 9, 194o, the country remained under both the military occupation of German forces and civil rule of a German commissioner. Norway’s occupation by Nazi Germany ended on May 18, 1945, after the surrender of German forces in Europe. This period of occupation had a significant impact on Norwegian society, and it was years until Norway considered itself as having passed on and into the "post-war era."

Olaf Hoel made his way to the Midwest, where on July 16, 1876, he was ordained a minister at Washington Prairie near Decorah, Iowa. In August of that year, Olaf moved to Canby, Minnesota where he became the Pastor for the St. Stephens Congregation of Canby. For the next 36 years, he served this congregation and was the “area’s pioneer pastor” as well. Reverend Hoel eventually served 11 churches in his circuit ministry and was increasingly called upon to minister to Norwegian settlers spread over a wider and wider area. In a 1928 letter, Reverend Hoel describes the challenges of a circuit ministry:

“The parishioners were found in a radius of seventy miles, so a great deal of traveling had to be done. This we did with a pony and a little open buggy. There were no roads, but by aid of a compass we were able to find our way over the prairies. By starting at daybreak, we often did not reach our destination until in the middle of the night. Many were the times the way had to be fought through prairie fires and snowstorms......We speak of tiresome rides nowadays, but few can imagine how tedious and lonesome the trips over the prairie were – no roads and seldom, if ever, meeting a person on an entire trip.”

On August 19, 1876, Olaf Hoel married Mary Lund of Canby. They brought 8 children into the world, the youngest of whom was Omer, Jim's father. The children were born before Olaf moved to Canby but it was in Canby that Reverend and Mary Hoel have left a legacy that my family cherishes today. Mary’s brothers built a home and sold it to Olaf in 1903. As described at the time, it was “one of the best resident properties in Canby and had, without a doubt, the finest surroundings.” The “49 day wonder” Victorian home was built in 1891 and eventually enlivened with decorative balconies, a turret and gingerbread trim. The home remained in the family for the next half century and when finally sold went somewhat into disrepair.

But in 1976, the town of Canby recognized the potential and looked “into the possibility of starting a Canby Museum” with the Lund-Hoel House. The town purchased the home and over the years to follow was able to retrieve, from members of the Lund and Hoel families, most of the items and furnishings that were in the home at the turn of the century, including Olaf's Bible and his daughter Nella Hoel's “prized Everett upright piano.” Eventually, the home looked as it had when Olaf’s family first resided there.

The “Lund-Hoel House” is now a museum on the National Register of Historic Homes. In 1991, Jim’s father, Omer, the last remaining child of Olaf and 97 years old at the time, visited Canby to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the Lund-Hoel House. After walking through the home and directing the rearrangement of furniture so that it was “the way it was then,” Omer sat under a broad chestnut tree in the back yard surrounded by most of the residents of Canby and told stories of his life in this home.

As Omer, my grandfather, spoke, I glanced over at my father who used to run around the stone fence surrounding the home when he was a boy and I thought of the challenges that my great grandfather, grandfather and father had survived and overcome so that I could be there that day. I was reminded then, and often since my father’s watch appeared, of a quote I heard once from a now forgotten source, “You’ll never untangle the circumstances that brought you to this moment.” Perhaps not, but how fortunate we are for those things like the discovery of my father’s watch and the Lund-Hoel House that keep looping us back to the past so that we might discover stories that enrich our lives and strengthen us today.

Jim was born in Canby on September 2, 1922 and moved to Evanston, Illinois in 1932 where he remained until he entered the War.

Tomorrow – Moving into the German Prison of War System

MARGRATEN

(A clearer version of the Margraten slide show can also be seen at "Related Links")

Slide show of Jim Hoel's visit to the Netherlands American Cemetery on April 15, 2005. He was escorted by his son, Gil and two Dutchmen, John and Dennis Prooi (father and son). John grew up in Rozenburg, the village where Jim's B26 ditched in 1943. John and his son had researched where each of Jim's fallen comrades were buried amongst the 8,302 grave sites of American soldiers. The group went to each site during the visit to pay their respects.