How To Capture High Ranking Nazis
by
Kenneth Isaak (883 FA) & Chuck Ferree (884 FA)

Sarrbrucken had been taken after one hell of a fight. The Infantry of our own 70th. Trailblazers, had done a great job under deadly circumstances, and those of us who didn't have to fight on the ground were proud of our fellow 'Blazers. Men of the Divarty Air Section had watched some of the battles from the air, and had fired extensive artillery at targets selected by ground observers. We even threw a few rounds at targets we discovered deeper into Germany. Only one plane had been lost to enemy ground fire, luckily the pilot and observer had survived. Even though the pilot had been hit with an armor-piercing round which shattered his hip and pelvis.

Now we were in Germany, in the process of setting up our airstrip, near a little farming village. The villagers seemed friendly enough, and we could tell most of them were farmers by their dress and general appearance. Some were curious about our airplanes, and that we had selected part of a meadow for our strip, but most of the people went about their business, while we parked the planes, and made tie-downs and set up several tents to store parachutes and other equipment.

As in the two or three other German towns occupied by our group of pilots, and crews, we selected houses for quarters, evicting the owners.

Ferree sat in a jeep smoking a Lucky, when this well dressed, obviously out of place young man approached him, carrying baskets of fresh eggs and a variety of vegetables. He spoke fairly good English, and told me that his name was Walter Timm, and he ran a pocketbook factory in the town. Timm welcomed us to the village and explained that he and the other folks would be happy to provide us with fresh eggs and produce. I was suspicious and called my buddy Kenny Isaak over because he spoke fluent German. The three of us chatted for a while, Kenny talking in German mostly.

It seems to us that it was mid-March or early April. Fraternization remained forbidden, and we were still flying missions for artillery units and generally harassing the Krauts every chance we got.

Timm invited the two of us to his home that evening for cake and coffee. He pointed out his home, which was quite large, built on top of a nearby hill. We thanked him for the eggs and other food, which none of us had enjoyed for many months.

We turned the food over to our cook with the understanding that we would have fresh eggs for breakfast, and more would be available.

After Timm left, Isaak and I talked over the situation and decided that he definitely didn't belong in the village. He was too young, obviously a well educated man, and we wondered why he wasn't in the German Army. We decided to take him up on his invitation, even though we realized that if we were caught we could be fined and busted. But our curiosity got the best of us, and we wanted to find out more about this tall, good-looking, blonde, blue eyed guy who we both felt was feeding us baloney.

After chow, and as evening fell, we told the other guys we were going to walk around the town. We both had our carbines and I had a .45 in my shoulder holster. So we casually took a round about direction circling the hill and coming up to the fancy house from the rear. We were nervous and a little scared, but felt that armed we could take care of ourselves.

Timm greeted us like long lost friends, and escorted us into his large and well furnished home. He introduced us to his beautiful blonde wife, explaining that she had been in German films. We believed that, because she certainly didn't look anything like any of the other women we had seen since arriving in Germany. We forget her name, but she was glamorous, well dressed and charming.

Timm mentioned that we didn't need our carbines, we were safe in his home and he felt proud that we were his guests.

We three men sat in comfortable stuffed chairs, while Timm's wife prepared refreshments. Both Isaak and me had our carbines across our laps, with rounds in the chambers. We didn't point them in Timm's direction, but we knew he was uneasy because he kept eyeing the weapons, and he asked about my pistol. We had removed our leather flight jackets, but didn't let Timm take them to be hung. Both of us were jumpy and tense. We really didn't know what to expect next.

Timm told us about his pocketbook factory in the town and made a lot of small talk; like where were we from in the States, had we seen much combat and stuff like that. We were careful not to give him much information. We relaxed a little when the lovely wife served us real coffee and brought in a large German chocolate cake. We looked at each other and both wondered how these people could come up with real coffee and the ingredients to make a delicious cake, when other Germans we had encountered were half starved and had no sugar, coffee or any of that kind of stuff. But we ate the cake, and drank the delicious coffee, and had a informative conversation. Mostly in English, but Isaak interpreted words for me, especially those of the wife. She did know English, but felt more comfortable talking German.

After a couple of hours, and just about the time we figured we should get back to the airstrip, Timm excused himself, which put us on the alert when he left the room. He returned with a large leather bound photo album, and proceeded to show us pictures of himself in an SS uniform, along with photos of he and Hitler, Göering, Himmler and other Nazi heavyweights.

We were flabbergasted that this guy had the audacity to point out many pictures of himself in an SS uniform, along with other photos, some autographed by high ranking Nazis. He bragged about knowing all these Nazis and told us that he had been in the Luftwaffe at one time. Isaak and I were fit to be tied. We didn't know what the hell to do. One thing we did do, was hang on to our weapons with sweaty hands.

Finally we told Timm we had to leave, and thanked his wife for the delicious cake and good coffee. He told us how much he'd enjoyed our company and invited us back anytime. He also promised to keep us supplied with plenty of food stuffs from the village. We left in a daze, almost overwhelmed at what we had just experienced.

On the way back to the strip, we talked about what the hell the deal was with this Nazi here in this out of the way village running a Mickey Mouse pocketbook factory, and just couldn't fathom why in the world a former German SS man would show two American G.I.s such incriminating items. A photo album filled with pictures of Nazi leaders, Hitler himself, it blew us away. He must think we¹re a couple of idiots. We babbled about Timm all the way back to the strip. Incredible, we thought, and we wondered if we should have arrested him and taken him back with us, but who the hell were we to bust a big shot Nazi? So when we reached our airstrip, we went to the C/O of Divarty Air Section, Captain Rawlings, woke him up and told him the whole story. Rawlings was really just another pilot, although he did rank everyone else. He didn't chew us out like we expected. He got dressed and we walked to the communications tent where wire had been laid to various places. He called Divarty first we think, then G-2 (probably). Finally he told us to go to bed and "they" would handle it. So Isaak and I hit the sack quite late that night, only to be rudely awaken before dawn and told to report to the Headquarters tent.

Boy, we're in for it now we thought. They'll bust our butts and fine us a bunch of money for fraternizing with the enemy. "We gotta stick together, Kenny." I muttered.

"At least they can¹t shoot us, all we did was eat some chocolate cake and almost captured a real Nazi."

"Close counts in hand grenades!" Kenny said.

We pondered our fate as we stumbled through the night and finally saw the tent with several mean looking M.P.s armed with Thompson sub-machine guns guarding the area. The sergeant at the entrance asked if we were the guys who ate cake with an enemy SS Officer, and ordered us into the tent.

There sat our old Nazi buddy, his hands cuffed behind him, and his legs cuffed together. Across from him, sat an MP with a Garand rifle pointed right at Timm's gut. A major was asking Timm questions when we showed up. He turned to us with a look like we were bugs, and asked us to identify Timm. Which we did with a lot of 'yes sirs.' The major had Timm¹s album open and his face got redder and redder as if he¹d explode any minute.

"You men were in this German's home eating cake and drinking coffee?" He scowled and I thought we¹d be shot for being traitors or something. "Yes, sir." Isaak and I answered at the same time.

Timm looked at us like an animal in a trap.

The major asked us a few more questions and we were dismissed. As we turned to go, Timm asked me if the man had to point the rifle at his stomach. I turned to the major without thinking and was about to ask him why they had an M-1 pointed at Timm, he wasn't about to go anywhere.

"I said dismissed, gawd dammit! Now get your asses out of here."

We practically ran over each other trying to get out of that tent.

The rest of the crews razzed us for days about our capturing a big shot Nazi SS officer. But, we didn't get busted or fined. Later we wondered if maybe they'd give us a Silver Star or something. After all, we thought, how many other fly-boys had participated in such a daring feat.

We never saw Timm again. We heard rumors that they had taken him out in the woods and shot him. But we never found out for sure. We left that village soon after this hair raising experience and went on with the war. To this day, we both wonder what on earth possessed that German SS Officer, pal of other Nazis, to show us his picture album. Was he just dumb? Or was he an egomaniac? Did he die that day? Or was he tried as a war criminal at Nuremberg? Beats the hell out of us!

Kenneth Isaak & Chuck Ferree
Air Section, 70th. Division