AN EXPOSURE.

Erk's Work, 1 February 1941, Page 29

AN EXPOSURE.

The average civilian no doubt believes implicitly that the dreaded S.S. exists only in those lands of fear ruled over by Hitler and people of that ilk, but any airman of the R.N.Z.A.F. Station, Ohakea, could, and does, inform them that this is not correct.

A branch of the S.S. is firmly established on this Station, although its members will strenuously deny the fact. The local S.S. is divided into two divisions, the higher division, the Ogpu (officially known as Disciplinarians) and the lower division, the Gestapo (officially known as the Service Police).

Both these divisions are ruled over by a man who is known as the Station Warrant Officer, although most airmen have a number of names for the same person, appropriate no doubt, but not, definitely not, polite. The workings of the Ogpu in particular are so delightfully simple and apparently above board, that even the most discerning individual will be lulled into a false sense of security, but it is a fact that as soon as a new Squadron is formed the S.W.O. very kindly and considerately appoints a Disciplinarian to it. The wise Commander will treat this individual with a degree of restraint, while the unwary takes him to his bosom, but either way, sooner or later, it will be realised that a member of the Ogpu has been cleverly planted in their midst to inform his Chief of their every move. (Perhaps this exposure may help to dispel the suggested clairyvoyant power usually attributed to this indiivdual). The Chief of the S.S. resides (that is when he is not prowling around the Station) in the Castle, and in his office are two of his key men, one an Ogpu and the other a Gestapo man. (NOTE. —It is a wise precaution to avoid personal contact with either of these).

It might be well to mention here that the Chief apparently does not sleep and certainly resents any airman sleeping, especially at 0630 hours. Many an airman has been forcibly awakened at this ungodly hour (much to the amusement of the other occupants of the room, may it be said) and has found this dreaded individual standing at the foot of the bed writing in a small black book. On these occasions the Chief’s vocabulary seems to be somewhat limited, as the most he seems to be able to say is : “Get out —my office at 9.”

To the uninitiated this might appear to be an invitation to a pleasant little cup of tea and a chat, but to the older

hands, it is an indication that negotiations should immediately be put in hand for the loan of a reliable alarm clock, because the Chief seems to be of the opinion that if an airman fails to have his feet on the deck at 0630 hours he can quite easily rise at 0530 hours for the next few days. It might be as well to explain this little recreation a little further. The “caught” airman must rise at 0530 hours, dress, shave and clean his buttons, and then present himself at the Headquarters of the Gestapo (officially known as the Guard House and sometimes facetiously known as the Old Men’s Home). Here a senior member of the Gestapo critically examines the airman from top to toe and invariably finds a fault that requires the airman to return to his quarters and get back to the Guard House under a time limit that usually would only allow the man to travel half the distance. This merry little game continues until the airman either looks and feels like a “Guardsman” or is carried to the Station Hospital a nervous wreck. Even there the airman’s troubles are far from over, because the Medical Officer and the S.W.O. seem to work in very close harmony; in fact, it has been rumoured that the Medical Officer is actually a highly-placed member of the s.s. The Head of the S.S. has never apparently heard of “dress reform” or “comfortable clothing for men,” because he displays a remarkably narrow view of what a well-dressed airman should wear. Apparently all buttons are meant to be done up, canvas shoes are not issued to wear on parade or around the Station, and most remarkable of all, he insists that caps and jackets are issued to wear. This individual also displays marked interest in the contents of wardrobes, cupboards, etc., and insists that beds should be made his way every day, absolutely no encouragement is given to individuality in these matters. Hair-cuts is another matter on which he has decided ideas. Having reached the age when his hair is no longer his “crowning glory,” he looks with marked disfavour on carefully brushed and marcelled coiffures in lieu of caps F.S. Another matter on which it would appear he takes a rather narrow view, is walking on the grass, and having never apparently heard the “call of spring,” is of the opinion that the grass is to look at. Even the High Priests of War are not immune from disfavour through this; in fact, history relates that on one occasion he looked darkly on the High Priest of All for this

offence. Another sore point is the parking of motor-cycles, apparently even if an airman purchases a motor-cycle he must park it where the S.S. decrees, even though it is usually most inconvenient to do so. The penalty for incorrect parking is confiscation of the cycle. Recently an airman having had his cycle taken by a member of the Ogpu rushed down to the Castle and demanded to be admitted to the inner lair of the Mogul. On being taken into the august presence immediately burst out in rightful indignation, “You can’t do that,” to which the Chief replied, “I have, so what?” To this rather one-sided argument the airman had no suitable reply at the moment, so was flung into the outer darkness, still minus his motor-cycle. In all these matters the .Chief is ably assisted by the lesser lights in the Ogpu, who at times display even a narrower point of view, especially as to the amount of liquor that an airman can hold and the times that lights are to be put out in the barrack-rooms. Not satisfied with this, they will insist that all airmen must march to and from work when all medical authorities are of the opinion that a quiet stroll before and after meals is beneficial to the health.

Once again it must be noted than an appeal to the Medical Officer on this matter is entirely useless, as he is also cast in this militaristic mould. The Ogpu, it must be said in their favour, do live unto themselves, but not so the Gestapo, for except for the leaders of this body, they live among us, eat among us, and certainly drink among us. The private life of an airman is to them an open book. They insist on knowing when an airman leaves the Station, when he returns, and where he has been, writing this information in a book for the world to see and the S.W.O. in particular. If through no fault of his own, an airman arrives back late, the Sub-Chief of the Gestapo fixes him with a baleful eye, dips his pen in the red ink and marks a large cross in the book against this particular airman’s name, and utters those awful words, “You are under arrest.” Not satisfied with this, next morning at 1000 hours he appears in the Squadron Commander’s office and without even a blush, reveals to all present, the time the airman left the Station, the time he returned, together with any conversation the airman may have had with him the previous night. He is usually supported in this by the local member of the Ogpu.

The Squadron Commander, instead of turning a deaf ear to all this idle chatter, appears to believe implicitly all that

the S.S. tell him, and instead of protecting an innocent airman from them, carelessly passes him back to their clutches by pronouncing the words, “Seven days C.C.”

On one memorable occasion one Commander actually did show signs of making a stand in favour of the downtrodden airman, but 10, the Chief, quickly informed of the trend of affairs, appeared in person, and all good intentions crashed to the ground. To cover up the fact that he had experienced a moment of weakness, he awarded the poor airman 14 days c.c. Well, some day this war will be over and the poor airman will once again enjoy the privilege of civilian life, but it would be just their luck if the S.W.O. left the Service and was appointed Commisisoner of Police.

“HIS NIBS.”