Col. Counsell ordered Major.-Gen. Schungarth, the S.S. Commander,
to a conference, and a big job was laid on; a huge enclosed S.S. prison
had to be built, and there was no one to do it but the Highlanders
and the S.S. troops. The Colonel chose the area, ordered the Dutch
out of it, and then watched with grim pleasure while Hitler's Elite
Korps created their own concentration camp by encircling themselves
The Colonel then decreed they must administer themselves, or not
be fed. S.S. Generals Schungarth and Mascus were not disarmed, at
first; neither were their staffs; they were told to control things, and
were allowed to keep their Lugers to shoot their men or themselves
if they wished (which some obligingly did).
Sentry boxes and outside guards were placed just in time; the
resentful Dutch took to lobbing grenades at Hitler's Elite, and they
also broke in to steal their rations.
Majors George Beal and Gord Proctor were in charge of searching
and disarming the Gestapo. It required days. A Brigade weapon
dump took form, which included everything from jewelled fist-daggers
to embossed Lugers and special Schmeissers with mother-of-pearl
butts. These were Hitler's gunmen, and each one had a concealed
weapon. When the S.S. men were moved out of their quarters aston-
ishing loot was revealed: imported food, cigarettes, furnishings,
women's clothing, bicycles, radios, horses, small cars, jewellery.
The greatest find of all was a large room packed solid with pre-
war Scotch whisky and choice liqueurs. Much loot was turned over
to the British Red Cross, and the liquor was sent to 1st Division H.Q.
disposal. ("Well . . . that is . . . the most of it.")
The two 48th majors were not trained in police frisking methods;
they discovered later they had missed a lot of the Nazi gunmen's
personal effects, including some human baggage. To miss things was
natural; after all they had thousands to search and incarcerate.
They were fascinated by the demeanor of their charges. At the
beginning, they had jeered back at the crowds, and had sung defiant
Nazi songs at night. One of them arrogantly expounded his idea of
the ideal army and the perfect war to Capt. Rex Johnstone, as one
fighting man to another: American pay; British food and equipment;
Russian guns; German troops, and Italians for the enemy.
The variety and number of problems facing Col. Counsell seemed
endless, and the entire Battalion exploded with laughter over the
most bizarre of his S.S. headaches. It was hesitatingly introduced by
Major George Beal, whose Support Company was just then on guard
over the compound.
"Er....... what do I do, Colonel, about... uh, ... . about 28 Dutch
prostitutes?" he finally blurted (with a slight blush, the Orderly Room
"Don't know," disclaimed the Colonel hastily, "What do you usually
do with 28 prostitutes?"
"This is not funny," protested the Major.
"No, no, of course not," agreed the Colonel who was enjoying
himself. "It must be a serious thing to have 28 prostitutes. By the
way, where have you got 'em?"
"I haven't got them!" exploded the Major in red-faced indignation.
"They're in the S.S. compound. They've been there all along, and now
those damned Nazi murderers want me to get rid of them."
"In the compound?" echoed the astonished Colonel. It was his turn
to be indignant. "Amazing fellows," he muttered.
The sequel was more rigid regulations, closer inspections, the
elimination of privileges, and the Elite Korps was told they must
scrub their own floors. They lapsed into sulky surliness; they pouted-
but they scrubbed! (Prostitute Postscript: The problem of the 28
prostitutes was passed to Brigade, "for your consideration and disposal,