 Are you willing to undertake a dangerous mission behind the enemy lines, knowing that you may never return alive? What you have just heard is the question asked during the war of agents of the OSS. Ordinary citizens who through this question answered, yes. This is... Warfare, espionage, international intrigue. These are the weapons of the OSS. In today's adventure, wine of freedom, the role of Vince Keller, an American OSS agent who made a sales trip inside Hitler, Germany, is played by stage and screen star Mel Pharrell, currently to be seen with Joan Fontaine in the RKO picture born to be bad. Today's story is suggested by actual incidents recorded in the Washington files of the Office of Strategic Services. A story that can now be told. The night had started to pour by the time I found the house. I stood out in the paces and peered at it through the shadows. There wasn't anything strange or ominous about it. It was just a white frame house like the kind you see back in Omaha. Only this wasn't in Omaha. This house was number 28, Ahunstrasse in Osnabruck. And Osnabruck was in Germany, Hitler's Germany. I drew a deep breath and went up the front steps clutching a briefcase in my hand. It was that briefcase that made me look like a respectable German citizen. I lifted the brass knocker and let it fall a couple of times. And then I waited. Yes. What is it that you want? She was younger than I'd expected and prettier. And of course she was suspicious. She was suspicious of everybody in those days if you were a German, particularly the kind of German I knew she was. Well? Frau Hausmann? Yes. I'd like to talk to your husband. My husband. Herr Ludwig Hausmann, is he in? What do you want to talk to him about? Wine. Oh, wine. My name is Keller. I've just come from Fielefeld. I'm a wine salesman. Part of it was true, my name was Keller, all right, Vince Keller. And I had come from Fielefeld, but I wasn't a wine salesman. I was an agent of the OSS. And what I had to sell was something stronger than wine. It was organized resistance to Nazism. I've been at it for about a year then, almost a year since I'd sat in Colonel Metcalf's office in London, and told him I wanted to volunteer for the job. You're sure that there's no trace of American dialect in your German? Quite sure, sir. My family lived in Germany, also my childhood. I was educated in German schools. I see. And, um, you know what you're letting yourself in for, Keller? If the Nazis grab you... I know, Colonel. But you still want to undertake the mission, hm? It's important, isn't it, Colonel? If we can step in the German underground's resistance to Hitler... the anti-Hitler movement in Germany right now can hardly be called an underground. No, it's merely a handful of isolated individuals in various cities. There's almost no contact between them and no organized activity at all. Well, that won't do us any good when our troops start moving across the German border, sir. Exactly. We need defective allies inside Germany. No matter how few they are, we want them coordinated and strengthened. That's the job we'd like you to do, Lieutenant. It's the job I'll try to do, Colonel, if the Gestapo doesn't catch up with me. Two weeks later, I'd parachute it into a grassy field outside Düsseldorf. And the Gestapo hadn't caught up with me yet. After Düsseldorf came Essen. And after Essen, Dortmund. And then, Bielefeld. And Hitler's secret police were still way behind. It was at Bielefeld that I heard about Ludwig Hulsmann. The underground leader there, old Johann Wolf, slipped me his name. So your work here in Bielefeld is finished, Herr Keller. Where'd you go now? Osnabrück, Johann. You'll be hearing from me, though. I want to put the men there in contact with the resistance workers here. We have been in contact occasionally. Now then, Ludwig Hulsmann has paid me a visit. Hulsmann, huh? He's the leader in Osnabrück? He was the last I heard. It's been several weeks. It's address is number 28. Our phone starts there. Oh, good enough. I'll look him up when I get there. You'll have no trouble introducing yourself to him since you're posing as a wine merchant. You simply ask him if he has ever tried a Dain-Fryheit wine. Dain-Fryheit wine. The wine of freedom, huh? He will know then that he can trust you and to you, of course, can trust him. So that's how it happened that on that September evening, I followed Frau Hulsmann into the living room of her home in Osnabrück. Won't you sit down here, Keller? My husband should be here soon. He isn't home then? No, he's late this evening. He's almost always here by dinnertime. I don't know where he could... but wait, yes, I do too. It doesn't matter, I can wait. No, no. I'm sure he's stopped in to see a friend down the street. I'll try to find him. But really, I hope you won't... He'll be very eager to talk to you. He's quite interested in wine. Oh, is he? Yes. He would not want to keep you waiting. You stay right here and make yourself comfortable. I'll get him. Wouldn't it be easier to call your friend's house on the telephone? The telephone? I wish I could here, Keller, but... we had a heavy air raid in Osnabrück last night. The telephone is out of order. It was a hasty exit she made. Almost too hasty. I sat there in that empty house for a minute or two... where she'd said to make myself comfortable. But somehow I wasn't, very. So I got up and went over to the telephone. What number do you wish to... I was under the impression, Operator, that this line is out of order. Thank you, sir. The line has not been out of order today. That gave me something to think about while I waited. I think better when I'm moving. So I began to move around the Holsthorn house. I peeked into rooms, even opened drawers, but I didn't find anything. In fact, I didn't even know what I expected to find. When the front door opened, I was back in the living room trying to look comfortable. I was wronged him drinking beer with our friends. Caught in the act, eh, Herr Holsthorn? I'm afraid so. Well, please sit down, Herr Keller. Thank you. You are a wine salesman, my wife tells me. Yes, I am. And she tells me that you're very interested in wine. That's true. Sort of a connoisseur, perhaps? You might say so, yes. Like our mutual friend in Bielefeld, who suggested that I call on you. And who was that, Herr Keller? What was his name? It must have been the lie Frau Holsthorn had told about the telephone that made me hold back. It must have been the way she stood there, listening so intensely, so eagerly. That was why I brushed aside his question, and that was why I said nothing about the wine of freedom, even when he asked, tell me, Herr Keller, do you carry a dry red wine at reasonable prices? Yes, we have an excellent burgundy, Herr Holsthorn. From where? Why, from Schoenbertin. Schoenbertin. What year, Herr Keller? 1927. 1927, huh? I don't think we'd be interested in buying any of your wine. But, Herr Holsthorn, in fact, we'd appreciate if you'd go peddle it somewhere else. Now, wait a minute. Any authentic wine merchant would know that the great frost of 1927 killed the crops of Schoenbertin. You might tell the Gestapo that before they send you out again. I caught on then, and I almost laughed. He thought I was a Gestapo agent. That explained it. Maybe it even explained his wife's peculiar behavior. I'd been too busy suspecting them to consider how deeply they must have been suspecting me. Is your hat for killer, and your case? Of course, ma'am. But before I go, there's another wine you might enjoy. So, what is it? Dane Fryhide Vine. Have you ever tried it? Yes, I have. You like it? Oh, I like it very much. Perhaps you'd care to hear a little more about it. Well, by all means, you should have mentioned that before. She's down her killer, and tell me, tell me all about the wine of freedom. After that, we were all friends. Nobody suspected anybody anymore. I told them what I'd accomplished in Bielefeld and the other towns, what I hoped to accomplish in Osnabruck. Their eyes glowed as they heard of the growing strength of the anti-Hitler forces within Germany. Then we are not as isolated as we sometimes think, I think. You have a lot of friends, Frau Holzmann. My job is to put you in touch with them. And how will you do that? Well, I'd like to start with a meeting of your friends here in Osnabruck. How many are there? Only a few we actually know personally, maybe six, seven. Well, that's enough. You think you could get them all together in a safe place tomorrow night? Tomorrow night? We would have to work quickly. Sure, it could, but I'd have to start working on it right away. By phone? In front of strangers, you even pretend it's out of order, huh? You checked up on me after I left here. Well, I was even beginning to wonder if you were a Gestapo agent yourself, Frau Holzmann. Oh, you needn't wonder any more, Herr Keller. Linda is as reliable as I am. You can trust her just as you would trust me. And then he left me alone with her while he went out to start rounding up his friends. She insisted I must be hungry and she led me out into the kitchen and gave me the dinner she'd cooked for her husband. Poor Ludwig. I don't suppose he'll get anything to eat tonight. He should have eaten before he left. Oh, you do not know him, Herr Keller. This underground work is his life. Food means nothing to him. He goes without sleep. He never has a moment of pleasure. Nothing matters to him, not even me, the woman he married. I guess that's the way a man gets in the underground after a while. Yes. He gets hard and cold and calc. Like Ludwig Holzmann. Well, never mind that. If you will excuse me, Herr Keller, I want to go upstairs and get your room ready. You'll sleep here tonight, of course. Well, don't go to a lot of trouble, please. No, no, it will take but a moment. You finish your dinner. But the strange thing was that she never went up. At least I didn't hear her go up. I waited for her footsteps on the stairs, and when there was no sound, I left the table and pushed open the door a crack. I saw her then in the living room. But her back to me, her head spanned over the telephone. I can't explain to you now. I heard her too. No, no, don't ask me. Just do what I tell you. Don't come here, whatever you do, meet me by the van stand in the park. Be there in half hour and wait for me. Frau Holtzmann could do a lot of tricks with the telephone. I wondered if she could explain away the second one as easily as she'd explained away the first. I didn't ask her at all. I let her show me up to my room a half hour later, and I told her good night. Good night, Herr Keller. If you need anything, call me. I'm in the room at the end of the hall. You are going to retire now, Frau Holtzmann? Yes, I think I will. I'm very tired. I don't believe I'll wait up for Ludwig. Well, thanks again. Not at all. Good night. Good night. I'd been tired myself, but I felt wide awake then. I went to bed, though. That is, I went through the motions of going to bed with all the proper sound effects. I let my shoes drop loudly on the floor. Then after I'd quietly put them on again, I opened the window and flick the light switch. After that, I waited silently by the door. She must have taken off her own shoes to tiptoe down the stairs because I didn't hear her go. But she shouldn't have let the front door close quite so hard. I did hear that. Then I moved fast. Out of the bedroom and down the stairs and out the front door. But I closed it quietly. She must have been 30 yards ahead of me when I reached the street. I didn't try to close the distance between us. It was easy enough to follow it. The sidewalks were practically deserted. She didn't look back once. A woman who was walking as eagerly as determinedly as Linda Holstman was walking doesn't bother to look back. We reached the park in 20 minutes. It was deserted, too. She stayed on the gravel walk and I slipped through the bushes. And then I did close in on her. She approached the bandstand. A figure separated itself from the shadows and came toward her. I was crouching behind a shrub three feet away by then. I saw that the figure wore a Nazi uniform. What's happened? Why did you call me? I can't tell you that. He kissed her. And they were both lost. So lost they didn't even hear the plane start whining through the night. I heard them. There was something else I had to hear. Something that might prove more fatal than a British bomb. What was the meaning of the telephone call? Paul, we'd better get to a shelter. There's one at the other end of the park. Come on, Paul. Tell me first what has happened. We won't be able to talk in the shelter. It's an OSS agent. What? An American spy. Is that my husband? An American spy? Paul, have I noticed? No, you're running out too late. Don't, Linda. Pull yourself out. The Nazi was right. It was too late to run. The Tommies were dropping bombs all over town. Linda followed his advice and so did I. I flung myself on the soft ground behind those shrubs. Come on, you'll hear life. This bomb landed in the park. I raised my head at last. There was only a pile of rubble for the bandstand. I heard the Nazi calling her name. There was something in his voice that brought me to my feet. It was the tone of a man who called when he doesn't expect an answer. Linda, do you hear me? He's dead. Anything I can do, soldier? There's nothing anyone can do. He's dead. You sure? Yeah. Come on, I'll get you to a doctor. I have no time now for doctors. Later, maybe. But there's something I must do first. I'm not hurt. I could do it for you. I'd do it myself. The Gestapo must have immediately... He turned away and went lunging off. You don't like to do such things. But if a man's a Nazi and if he's gonna betray you to the Gestapo, I raise my gun for all the things you don't like to do either. You don't like to tell a man that his wife is lying dead in the park. Or what she was doing there before she died. Not if she was kissing a Nazi soldier and selling the underground movement down the river. But I knew it had to be done. I went back to the big Holtzmann's house. He'd already come home and was waiting for me. Ah, killer. I have news for you. I have news for you, too. Bad news. But, mine is good. It's all arranged already. Oh. All arranged. The meeting you mean? Of course, the meeting tomorrow night at 11 o'clock. There's a bombed-out church on the highway north of the tower. There's no danger of being interrupted because the church is never used anymore. I rounded up every friend I could. There will be seven at the meeting, possibly eight. Good work, Holtzmann. Thank you. Thank you again. But, uh... What did you want to tell me? It... Well... It's your wife. My wife? She... Look, my friend, there's no way of breaking this to you gently. Never mind. Just tell me. What about my wife? She's dead, Holtzmann. She's... She was killed in the raid tonight. It... It isn't possible. I'm sorry, Holtzmann. I just can't... I just can't believe it. I know how hard it is for you to... No, no, you don't. You couldn't know because you... You didn't know what he meant. Easy. Easy, Holtzmann. I just can't help it. I'm sorry about it. It's all out of faith. You've faced a lot of hard things in these last few years. I guess you'll manage to face this. Those were nothing. Everything took nothing else matter. She was my whole life. I sat there and felt like a heel. Because his grief left me cold. I suppose I should have felt sorry for him, but I didn't. There was something wrong somewhere. There was a phony note in his sorrow that I couldn't put my finger on. Not then, at least. Later on that night, after I'd helped him to his room, after I'd gone to bed myself and lay in the darkness thinking about it, I began to understand. Power, cold and cowardly. Like Ludwig Holtzmann. It was her voice, Vinda Holtzmann's voice that told me. Nothing that. Nothing but fighting the Nazis. Not even us, the woman he met. But how did that jibe with the sobbing grief-stricken husband I just seen? And after all, why should a man who'd fought the Nazis, die for ten years? Why should he collapse so completely at the news of one more death? Even the death of his wife? Well, he has something that's wrong somewhere. Something that's very definitely wrong. I thought I knew what it was. And if I was right, then Führer's secret police were breathing down my neck. He was still sleeping when I slept out of the house the next morning. I didn't go far. Just across the street and two doors down to number 21, Ahunstrasse. Yes? What is it you want? I'm sorry to disturb you so early. I wonder if you could help me. I'm a stranger in town. I'm looking for the Holtzmann residence. Holtzmann? Across the street, two doors that way, number 28. Thank you very much. You're welcome. Good day. Excuse me. I think I had the right party, don't I? The big Holtzmann's house, isn't it? It was his house. Oh. Doesn't he live there anymore? A Ludwig Holtzmann died three weeks ago. And then I knew I was right. I turned away from the door but I didn't have any place to go. So I turned back again. And the man in the doorway was still standing there. Still staring at me thoughtfully. Excuse me. Why did you want to see Ludwig Holtzmann? Well, I'm a wine merchant. I didn't know he was dead. I thought he might be interested in some wine. I see. Strong wine? Very strong. A special kind. Called... called Defriheidwein. Ah. You're familiar with it? Yes. I'm familiar with it. Perhaps I could interest you. Perhaps you could. Won't you step in? I followed him into his house. And then I took a chance. I told him who I was and why I'd come to Osnabruck and what had happened since I arrived. I see. Then the real Ludwig Holtzmann is dead. He was killed by the Gestapo, by her killer, his own wife, betrayed him. Honey, that's just how I had it figured. Fortunately, she doesn't know who the rest of us are or she would betray us, too. Not anymore. She was killed in the raid last night. She walks? That doesn't exactly break your heart, I imagine. On the contrary, it saves us the trouble of someday killing ourselves. But you say she introduced another man to you as her husband? She must have had orders to report anyone who came looking for Ludwig. It's a tall, thin chap with a black moustache. Ah, yeah. Fitz Haverl, probably one of the most powerful Gestapo agents in Osnabruck. Nice company I've been keeping lately. That's what I don't understand. Why didn't he turn you over immediately? What is he waiting for? For the meeting tonight, probably. Meeting? He knows I'm planning to talk about the underground work in neighboring cities. He figures you'll pick up a flock of names. He'd never ask me for the names directly. Some more Gestapo agents, I imagine. Maybe he's bringing them over from Dortmund and Bielefeld. And he hopes you will give him useful information, huh? Sure. It's a nice setup. They'll sit around and scribble down everything I say. Then when they've milked me, they'll spring me up. How lucky that you came to my door. Now you can escape, Herr Keller. Escape? No, I don't think so. What do you mean? Seven or eight Gestapo agents all gathered under one roof. That's awfully inviting. Do you want to go to that meeting? Why not? They don't know I know who they are. You will never get out alive! I'm not so sure. I was pretty cocky then, but by the time night came, I'd lost a lot of it. I'd had to put on an act for Fitzhebel all day, pretending I still thought he was Ludwig Holtzmann, pretending I trusted him and was sorry for his great loss. By eleven o'clock, when he and I slipped up the mooned path that led to the church, my nerves were pretty thin. I'd taken a lot of risks since I'd come to Germany, but I'd never walked into a meeting of Gestapo agents before every one of whom knew who I was. There he already. You see Herr Keller? I saw. Through the clouds of cigar smoke, I saw the narrow hungry eyes that turned on me. I saw the half-hidden smiles I sensed the laughter inside them. My friends? My friends? You know why we are meeting here tonight. You know that here, my side is a man, an American who's had the courage to come into this land of terror to help us. In spite of Gestapo agents, he made quite a production of it. He went on for five minutes building our enemy country. And over a while, I could hear that silent marking laughter. And so now Herr Keller will tell us of the work he has been doing in other German cities. He will give us the names of our brothers who are fighting in the same cause for which we fight. He will teach us how to fight more effectively. How to bring closer the day of final victory. I present Herr Keller. The American. Thanks, Herr Holtzmann. Brothers and friends, my plans have changed somewhat. I did intend to tell you about the resistance movement in other cities. But I find that the resistance movement here in Osnabrück is quite impressive. So I decided to show you an example of that instead. If you look around you, you'll get a real lesson in how we fight. How we bring closer the day of final victory. It took them a minute to catch on, but not long. Then they turned and they saw what I was pointing at. They saw the guns of the underground were shoved through every farmed out window. You! All right, man, get about it! They died all eight of them. Well, Colonel Metcalf had told me to help make the German underground strong and effective. He said it had to be organized. It was pretty well organized that night in Osnabrück. And later in Dortmund, I found myself in Düsseldorf. Soon due in large part to Lieutenant Vince Keller of the OSS, the resistance was well organized throughout Nazi Germany. And once again the report of another OSS agent closes with the words mission accomplished. Listen again next week for another true adventure from the piles of the OSS. On... And Daggers! Here is a bulletin from the NBC Newsroom. Governor Dewey of New York has endorsed the NBC Republican presidential candidate. As General Eisenhower during the NBC television program Meet the Press, Dewey declared again that he himself will not be a candidate. Then Dewey as particular head of the GOP said that he would urge support of Eisenhower if the general will permit himself to be nominated. He tuned in to the press and he said that he would ask himself to be nominated. He tuned in to NBC station for the later news. This is NBC the National Broadcasting Company.