Free Human Game: The True Story of the 'Great Escape' Murders and the Hunt for the Gestapo Gunmen by Simon Read Page B

mind’s eye. He lay his head back on the pillow, relieved when the afterimage at last began to fade.

    The rain, much to McKenna’s extreme annoyance, continued into the morning. He prepped for the pending ordeal with several mugs of strong coffee in the mess. The second day of canvassing, September 28, seemed to be a depressing repeat of the first. One by one, he crossed names and addresses off his list, success having thus far steered clear of his efforts. It was near day’s end when he knocked on the door of a small terraced house at Berlinstrasse 18a, and heard someone inside work a lock. The door opened a crack, and a young woman peered out. In German, McKenna fumbled his way through an introduction and asked if she was housing anyone from Breslau. The woman nodded and, in German and rough English, said she had living with her a man named Klaus Lonsky. He was out, but McKenna was welcome to wait for him if he so wished. Desperate to be out of the rain, McKenna accepted the invitation.
    A little while later, sitting in the woman’s living room, McKenna heard the front door open and close. When Lonsky entered the room, McKenna rose to greet him. He was younger than McKenna had expected, probably in his late twenties, but his movements were slow and his expression battle-weary. McKenna, wondering if his tonguewould ever prove adept at German, began explaining the purpose of his visit. Lonsky cut him off and said he understood English.
    McKenna allowed himself a quick smile.
    “I’m investigating the murder of fifty Allied airmen who escaped from Stalag Luft III in March of last year,” McKenna said. “One person of considerable interest is this man. Do you know him?”
    McKenna retrieved the picture of Absalon from an inside pocket. Lonsky glanced only briefly at the photograph and nodded. He took a seat, his movements stiff, and explained that before the war he had attended school at the University of Breslau. He joined the
Wehrmacht
in 1939 and served in an artillery unit and tank regiment before being wounded in April 1943. Shortly thereafter, he joined the Military Police and was assigned to a patrol unit. His policing duties, he said, often brought him into contact with the Criminal Police.
    “In this way, I got to know Dr. Gunther Absalon,” Lonsky said. “He was in charge of the thirteenth section of the Criminal Police. I talked with Dr. Absalon on a number of occasions and learned he came from the Rhine district.”
    McKenna asked Lonsky what, if anything, he knew of the mass breakout from Stalag Luft III.
    “Whilst I was in the Military Police, my own troop headquarters were at Sagan,” Lonsky volunteered. “I know there was a prisoner-of-war camp there, and on occasions we used to hear that a number of prisoners had escaped. I remember a big number escaping, I think about eighty-one, about March 1944. My unit was advised of the escape, and I believe the whole garrison in Sagan was ordered to take part in the search for the escaped prisoners of war. I heard that a number of them were recaptured, but what happened to them I do not know. I believe some were recaptured in the Görlitz and Breslau areas, but I have never heard what happened to them.”
    “What instructions did you receive regarding the arrest of prisoners of war?” McKenna asked.
    “We were to take them to the nearest Oflag or Stalag and hand them over.”
    “Did you know anyone associated with the Breslau Gestapo?”
    “There was a Dr. Scharpwinkel,” Lonsky said, prompting McKenna to lean forward in his chair. “I never met him and do not know his rank. I have seen his signature on papers, but I do not know his Christian name. I do not know where he came from, but he was probably a Silesian.”
    “And you fought at Breslau?”
    Lonsky nodded.
    “I remained in the Military Police until September 1944, when I was dismissed for not being a member of the Nazi Party. I believe at that time the authorities decided control of the home