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Captain William Kaiser, OSS/DET66 Dear Mary, I'm writing this letter and giving it to a Russian Junior Lieutenant on his way to the rear. He's been badly wounded and he promised to post this to you ASAP from Poland. You'll probably get it in a year or two with my luck, if ever. I pray a civilian letter gets through. My unit had a hell of a fight in Hungary, and had to fall back on the Russian side of line. We've been "guests" of a specialized unit here that does much the same work we do. We were taken to their training base in Tula, near Moscow. That was in late January. The guards were cordial, but they were still guards. We were thoroughly debriefed by collegial but insistent officers months ago. They had assured us that everything was in order, that resources were scarce, that we would be repatriated at war's end - only months away. In the mean time, we were given exercise equipment and good food to help us recover from our recent mission, which had gone very badly. I wasn't hurt too bad, but others were pretty banged up. We were allowed to write letters but I now know they were never sent. One of my men, a character named Laszlo, knew enough about the Russian secret police to know that the whole set-up was probably a raft of lies, and he was alert for any opportunity that presented itself. For months, none did. He contented himself with learning a little of the language, secreting away bits of food, and organizing up a few knives. At first we thought he was nuts. It turns out another of my guys, Niles, had a serious medical problem (he'd become addicted to morphine, if you can believe it - it isn't that uncommon over here) and spent February and March in the NKVD infirmary in Moscow. He joined us in Tula on April Fool's Day, weakened and dispirited. At first, Pink and I (Pink is the guy from the 505th I picked up on D-Day - the sniper. I can't wait for you to meet him) were glad to accept Russian hospitality at face value. As February turned into March, and then April, we began to appreciate Laszlo's paranoia. About a week ago we were roused and put on a train under heavy guard - heading east. It didn't feel right, and we were all really nervous. About an hour outside of Tula, the train was stopped and there was a big commotion. Laszlo gave me a signal and we were preparing to make a break for it when shooting started. The four of us overpowered the guards in our compartment and things were very chaotic for a few minutes - we didn't know what was going on. A bunch of heavily-armed Russians in Red Army uniforms burst in and their Lieutenant asked us in good English to accompany them if we wanted to live. Who were we to refuse? So that is how you are getting a letter written in Seelow, Germany. I can see the center of Berlin from here and it is on fire. Tomorrow, or the next day, we're going in there for reasons I cannot go into - but I wouldn't be going if it weren't important. Real important! The guys who pulled us off that train are military intelligence, and according to them (I believe them) the NKVD guys were taking us to a political prison to disappear. There was some kind of shake-up or political purge, what with the war almost over, and we were a problem, I guess. These military guys have a completely different agenda and we really owe them. They'll be active all across the German front lines until we link up with American units, and we're sticking with them like glue! I've seen them in action and they are some of the bravest soldiers I've ever known. They call themselves "The Broomstick". Of course part of the reason they saved us is because they need experienced men for the kind of operation they are planning here in Berlin. I wish I could tell you more. Maybe when I get home. The Russians are hitting the city unbelievably hard but the Germans are slaughtering them. I heard the Third Shock Army here west of town is losing 1,000 men an hour. It is a scene out of hell itself, Mary. I cannot begin to describe the carnage. Anyway, I'll be very careful - you know I'm no hero. We'll just get the job done and get the hell out of there. Pass this letter on to Miss Penny O'Reilly, 1444 K Street Northwest, Washington, District of Columbia when you've read it. She'll see that the proper people learn about what happened to us. I love you with all my heart, Mary. God willing, I'll be home soon. Truly, William |