 Words at war. Dearest Hanishka, at last I have the hope that someday you will learn the true facts of my strange story. The good people about whom I want to tell you promise that they can take these notes somewhere to safety and give them to you after the war is over. For the last three years I've been living in little sorrow with one window through which I can see nothing. And a chink in the wall through which I can see very little. I eat after a fashion. I read the papers, sometimes I listen to the radio, but I hardly ever hear a human voice. I seldom see a human being going by outside. You've been waiting and not in vain, dear Hanishka. Someday you'll read what I'm writing now, otherwise nothing would have any meaning. Our life, our marriage, our worries, our mistakes, not even my approaching death. A national broadcasting company in cooperation with the Council on Books and Wartime presents another of the most significant programs on the air today. Words at war, dramatizing the most representative books to come out of this great world conflict. Tonight the psychological study of a man who tried to run away from himself. The Hideout by Egon Hostoski with Arnold Moss as the narrator in a radio adaptation by Ben Kagan. Dear Hanishka, you must live to get this because you and I have to understand each other. And I'm ready to understand you only now. I've realized so much, so much has become clear since I've been living like a trapped rat in this cellar. Do you know when I first thought absolutely certain something was wrong in my work, in my marriage, my plans and everything I was saying and doing? It was in March 1939 just before Hitler took over Czechoslovakia. We'd come back to Prague after a week in the country and that particular evening we were expecting guests for dinner. My chief, my secretary from the factory and Bertha Mandel. I was very upset, pretended to read. And suddenly you turned to me and your tongue was casual, almost indifferent. What kind of a man is that director of yours? I don't know much about him, Hanishka. He's only been at the factory two weeks. He's a little loud, but I think that's because he's shy. He really invited himself tonight. He said we ought to talk privately some time and besides he'd like to meet my wife. I don't know what he's after, maybe nothing at all. I doubt that. What's his name? Uh, Kraus, Otto Kraus. And please, let's not talk about politics or Jews or about what's going to happen to Czechoslovakia. On account of Bertha Mandel? Yes. Isn't it really only a panic that makes her want to go away and try to find work and friends? Oh no, no, it's not. It's going to be very bad for the Jews here no matter what happens. She's coming to say goodbye to us so why upset her for the last time? There's no need for you to worry. I'm very fond of Bertha. And you know that I'm not jealous. You frightened me when you said that. How could you have known that I'd been thinking of Bertha Mandel? Wondering whether I'd find the courage to tell her that I loved her and whether it would be true if I said it. The doorbell saved me from answering you. My chief had arrived. After dinner my chief and I went into the library. My mind was far away but even so I realized that he talked as if he were talking against time. There is one thing I must have clear, absolutely clear. Do you understand? Is it true that you're planning not to finish your gun sight? Yes. Do you realize that the factory which gave you the time and the means to do your work is to some extent part owner of your idea? I don't agree, Mr. Krauss. I don't understand why you're blaming me for a fault which we share. I believe you're a cheque too and in that case... Look my friend, this way we'll never come to any agreement. We're living in a revolutionary era and we don't have much time. Give me your blueprints. Finish your work and there will come a day when you won't be sorry you did. Sir, the Czechoslovak government no longer has any interest in my gun. Colleague, please don't play the proud and capricious inventor. If you'll only turn over your blueprint. It's useless to talk further, Mr. Krauss. Useless? Is this your final answer? It's the only answer I can give. The day after Munich, I burned all the blueprints. He jumped up as if I'd poured boiling water over them. In that instant my unfortunate thought was born. I'd follow Bertha. At least for two days, for two days I'd be with her. For two whole days I'd get away from everything, from my life, from Krauss. Yes, Armeshka. Even from you. The next day I did not go to Ostrava as I told you at the time that I flew to Paris. All too soon I discovered that I'd set out on a journey into emptiness. I'd just checked in at the Hotel d'Asier and was on my way to the café on the Boulevard Saint-Michel, where I hoped to find her. When I saw a group of excited people running out of a building in a newsboy ahead of me shouting, In that moment, I aged ten years. I had a hide to wait to escape. I rushed back to the hotel hoping to find some word to my secretary. The mailbox was empty. During the next week I spent most of the time in my room. I sat on a bed, stared into space. I ate only once a day. Whenever I found myself out in the street, I felt horrified that people still drank, laughed. What about their business, just as if nothing had happened? Finally, after six days of waiting, the letter I'd been expecting from my secretary arrived. Dear sir, as I tried to warn you before you left for Paris, your chief, Mr. Kraus, was a traitor. He has informed the Germans about your gun sight. They have issued a warrant for your arrest. And if they find out you're in Paris, no one will ever be able to convince them that you have not given the blueprints to the French. You must not return to Czechoslovakia. It was all finished now. I could never go back. I could never see you and the children and explain. I moved from hotel to hotel from more expensive ones to cheaper ones, and at last I was living on the outskirts of town in that dirty little attic room. I grew a beard, my hair got so long it covered my collar. Day in and day out I wandered through the streets of Paris and people followed me with their eyes as if I were a freak. I submitted my gun sight to the French, but it was turned down as an unnecessary, luxurious plaything. One day I was staring at the banks of the Seine, aimlessly staring into the water. I felt a man walking past me and watching me. I was already reaching for my papers, sure it was a policeman, but I was too lazy to turn around. Would you do me a small favor, sir? You will be disappointed my papers are in perfect order. I don't want any papers, but now that you've spoken, I beg you even more urgently for a small favor. Please turn around. If you insist. Thank you, that's all. I made a mistake. Forgive me for interrupting your philosophy. Wait, wait, wait! Yes? You've made no mistake. Dr. Aubert. Dr. Aubert was an old friend of mine. I believe I spoke about him to Johanneske. I told Dr. Aubert my story briefly. In the end he invited me to stay in his villa outside of Paris. In June of the following year the Germans were in Paris. There was panic in the end. I stood trembling inside Dr. Aubert's villa, watching the terrified crowds who clogged the roads. It was almost dusk when I heard the door open. Oh, there you are. I'm afraid you might have gone outside and walked right into that hand. Dr. Aubert, I can't stay here. I must get away. Please, you must help me. I'm too late for that. You must stay here. I can't! I can't! They'll find me. They're sure to... I'll hide you. I have a nice bed in the basement. I'll keep you hidden through the whole war if necessary. You mustn't go out, of course. Not even take a step out of doors, but I'll never lock the door. You must train your will. You must say, I know that I can go out into the light whenever I want to, but I won't do it. You understand? Yes. Yes, I understand. Very well. Come along now and we'll look over your new bedroom. I've been in this cellar ever since, Hanischke, in the darkness of this cellar with all the Germans around me. At first I felt safest in bed, bundled up in the covers with a pillow wrapped around my head, but it was necessary to walk around, too, to stretch my legs, get washed, somehow keep myself occupied. Every rustle strained my nerves. I had no appetite. I lived on fear. Dr. O'Barr came to me once a day, always at midnight, like a ghost on tiptoe in the dark. Stay over here. I brought you some cheese and some newspapers. Thank you. Sit down and eat. No, I'm not very hungry. Go on, eat. I have something to tell you. What is it? Now, don't you frighten that one of them lives right above you, an officer. He says he'll stay with me for a week. Yes. I think that the locked door was... taking the lock off the door was an excellent idea. It's a relief to you, isn't it? To know that you're really free, that you can walk out of here anytime you want to. That's a great relief. Good. Well, I'll have to go back now. He might get suspicious. I'll see you tomorrow. Many months, I suffered and rejoiced. I believed and did not believe, hoped and grew despondent. Soviet Union was in a war, America was in a war. My teeth started to fall out. All my fingers and toes burned with cold. Once the Gestapo examined Dr. Obama for four days, I couldn't eat a drink during all that time. Then I lay in a fever for six weeks and was delirious for three more. I thought I'd changed into a spider. A spider crawling around the walls. The day I stood at the hole in the cellar wall, I didn't budge from the narrow chink through which I could see a strip of earth, a broken pomp and two linden trees. One spring afternoon, standing on a chair and peering through the crack, I saw a short, stumpy fellow in a black uniform who came up to the house. And suddenly I realized I was looking at a German soldier. And do you know who it was? It was Fisher, Fisher from Brunoff. You know, that fat, awkward, squinting fellow. He was the only German school fellow I had in high school. Fisher! Fisher! Fisher! Don't you recognize me? Huh? Who are you? What the devil's pussyfoot? You are pussyfoot, aren't you? Yes. Well, it's good to see you. Hey, you certainly change. I have to go back in. Well, let's go back then. How did you get here, pussyfoot? Did they send you to work in the French factories? Hey, you're in some kind of mess, aren't you? That's why you want to get out of sight. Hey, where are you taking me? In here, please, Fisher. I have to close the door. Well, all right, pussyfoot, spill the beans. I'll tell you a whole thing, Fisher. All through 1937-38, I worked on a site for anti-aircraft guns. After Munich, I burned all my blueprints a few days before the occupation of Prague. I flew to Paris, and that trip had absolutely no political background. My chief reported me. He thought I'd run away from Prague to turn my plans over to the French. Well, I'm not going to keep anything from you, Fisher. Later on, I really did offer my gun side to the French, but they didn't take it. And since then, I've been hiding from you people. Just now was the first time in three years that I've left this hall. Pussyfoot, you're an ox. Boy, are you an ox. Who's the swine that's been keeping you in prison here? Prison? You don't understand. A man whose home I'm hiding is the finest man I've ever met. He's a doctor. A fine pig? We'll throw some light on him yet. Fisher, what are you talking about? Do you know your fool that you can be home in a week? Home? Home to Prague? An engineer in our time, an inventor, an unpolitical person, and he the idiot. Stupid. Within a week, you're in Prague, and you won't catch a thing. That French pig will catch it all for you. I'll take care of him himself. But Fisher, how could you want me to bring misfortune to my truth? Well, perhaps my only friend. I'm surprised that you're Pussyfoot. I'll tell it to you straight. From now on, it's none of your business what I do. This French swine will be charged with holding you prisoner. That's final. Just tell me once more, please. Are you absolutely inflexible about my friend, that that's your last word, Fisher? Of course. It'll be the firing squad for him. I see. All right. Let's go. Let's go outside. Good. I'm finding it hard to breathe in here already. Now, don't worry, old man. We'll agree in the end and come to a good understanding. Hey, it's dark, isn't it? Where do I... Straight ahead, Fisher. Keep going. Hey, what was that? Hey, Pussyfoot... Turn around, Fisher! What? Pussyfoot! What are you... Pussyfoot! What are you doing? Drop that spade! Pussy! I struck him three times before he collapsed, and then I threw away the spade, took the lifeless body by the legs, and dragged it back into my burrow. Ages passed. I... I wasn't alive, and I wasn't dead. My head changed into an anthill. Instead of my brain, I had my skull, the repulsive mass of tiny, self-devouring little creatures. I half-sat-half lay on the bed under which I put the corpse. Well, have you starved on me? Here's some bread and cheese. What the devil's happened? I killed him. He's under the bed. You killed whom? Speak then, whom did you kill? I'm very close. You want to hear me? A very little strength right here. I went out of the cellar because I saw a German outside in an old school fellow of mine. He sat here beside me. I told him everything about myself. He... he wanted to help me. He wanted to make it possible for me to go home, but in return, he was going to arrest you, and so I... I killed him with a spade. The stairway must be full of blood. Do you think that anyone saw you while you were standing outside? Oh, no, no one. His... his name is Fisher. I... I'm sorry that you... Quiet. Let's try to figure out what we're going to do with his dead German. Maybe those people whom you treated secretly, they... they... underground... I'm thinking of them. I look for a grave digger. In the meantime, you eat and get some sleep. Our only hope is that they won't look for him in houses and cellars. Yes. I must say one thing, my friend. Although it doesn't get bored with you around. Wake up. Wake up! Not asleep. You slept 24 hours. Here, I have some milk for you. Take it. Drink it. And we have company. While you were sleeping, I found some people who buried your friend. We also scrubbed the stairs and the floors. These people who helped me came back here tonight. They want to ask you about something. Yes. You'd like to get away from this place, sir. Perhaps we can help you. Dr. Robas told us you're an engineer. An inventor. We want to ask you about something. Ask me what you wish. Do you understand ships? Why? Don't ask. Answer. Please, Augusta. Let me. Just imagine, sir, that we had the possibility of getting false credentials for you and getting you aboard a certain ship as a stalker. A ship's going to sail after time to pick up certain immensely vital materials, which is necessary to destroy. The crew will be partly German, partly French. Will you know how to sink a ship? Maybe. Maybe if I had a bomb. We're wasting time with this man. He wants a bomb. If you could put a bomb into the suitcase of the man we have on that boat, then we wouldn't be sending you with... Augusta, calm down. Look, sir, you're an engineer. Perhaps you can figure out a way of sinking a ship like that without an explosion. What kind of a ship is it? I wouldn't explain another thing to us. Be quiet a moment, please. It's a freighter, sir. Not quite 16,000 tons. What kind of power? Two diesel engines. Oh, sink a boat with your bare hands. That's him. No, I don't know. I'm terribly sorry, but I frankly don't know. I wish I could help you, but... Too bad. Come, Augusta. Let's go. I'm sorry. Yes, we're all sorry. Never occur to me that now I was in the greatest danger that might be discovered by the Germans at any moment. After that visit of the underground people in my prison, I changed beyond recognition. Walking from wall to wall of my cage like a desperate animal, I tried to solve that question of questions. How to sink a big ship bare-handed. Didn't interest me why a certain boat should be sunk. I wasn't interested in the cargo or the ship. All I wanted, all I strained for was an answer to the question. I was no longer walking up and down, but running madly around the walls, suddenly a week, a month later, I don't know just when, suddenly it came to me. Doctor, doctor, I've got it. I've got to go and get them. Bring them here. I'll get it all straight in my old mind. Go for those people, please, right away. It was only after Dr. Oban left that I suddenly realized that the problem which I had just solved would have a concrete performance, and that I was to be the hero of that performance. I just drawn a lot of death. All that I'd solved for myself was a means of committing suicide. My enthusiasm vanished. To die for nothing? Oh, no, no, that's not why I hid myself, why I suffered like an animal in a trap, why I became a murderer. I ran around in circles like a madman chasing himself. All at once time began to pass too quickly. I was hoping that Dr. Oban wouldn't find them, they'd never get here. I could feel him standing nearly in the darkness. Good evening, sir. I think my friends and I can give you some advice, but first of all, please answer a few of my questions. Is there access to the screw propeller on this boat? Yes. Could you get hoists on board? On every decent ship, there are lots of hoists. The man was to sink the boat, have it hand a very long steel or chain. Yes, there are many chains aboard a ship. All right then, here's the plan. A force can be generated on the boat by a proper combination of pulleys. Your man will set and fasten the hoists on the main beams of the boat and will then connect these hoists with a very long and powerful cable or chain into one system. The cable from the hoist leads to the propeller shaft and will wind around at least four or five times. The rotating propeller shaft will pull the chain and break the beams and the hull. Only part of the assignment seems difficult. That's to secure the pulley systems. However, if you'll bring your man to me, I'll discuss with him more possibilities and give him instructions. How long would it take the ship to sink with your plan? I can't say exactly. I should think about 15 minutes. Would one man be enough for it? Or would he need a helper? You've told me so little about this ship that I can hardly anticipate. We ourselves hardly know. You are only half initiated into the action. Please, no details. Could you do it alone? Yes or no? Let's come to me later. A skilful man would not need a helper. Only the unlucky man who does it will die. You won't have any outlet from the chamber when the water pours in. But you'll still undertake it, won't you? Why do you want me to die? I found your solution. I've answered your question. You've been shut up here for a long time, haven't you? Yes, yes. Very long time. And you probably don't know what's going on around you. I think I know. Are you a believer? Do you believe that everything that's happened to you so far was only chance? That your reason is adequate to measure and weigh every occurrence? Find a way out of it? We're priests, sir. A priest? Whatever gave you such a thought? I'm a woman. And you really believe you know what's going on around you. When you're so absorbed in yourself, your solitude and your own wretchedness, that you don't even recognize a woman by her voice. A woman? The voice of a woman? No. No, your reason would scarce to be adequate for anything. Why did you confide in a Nazi when you should have known that such a cause would only lead to disaster? Why did you expose yourself when, by so doing, you were also exposing your friends? Do you know that Dr. Aubert, who is certainly fond of you, never once comes near you without a revolver, that he would shoot you without hesitation if you were to become dangerously mad? Women's voice. I'm speaking for the people who are here with you now. And these people speak for unknown millions outside. Yield yourself to them. Try to do a big thing. If you die, you die. But for a little while you'll be a man. You'll be one of us. Voice. Now I knew it belonged to my mother. It belonged to you, Haniska. To my sisters, my daughters. When it finished speaking, I was half kneeling, half lying on the floor. The walls of my prison had vanished. Well, sir, we are waiting for an answer. I'll do it. Yes, I'll do it. I'll be one of you. I'll be a man. No longer a mouse and a trap. But a man. Tonight on Words at War, we've brought you a dramatization of Egan Hostocksky's novel, The Hideout. The radio dramatization was written by Ben Kagan. Arnold Moss was the narrator. Others in the cast were Norma Chambers, Joan Shea, Joe DeSantis, Edgar Staley and Jim Bowles. The music was arranged and played by William Meader, direction Garnet Garrison. Next week, Words at War will present the radio dramatization of The Road to Serfdom by Frederick Hayek. This series of programs is brought to you in cooperation with the Council on Books and Wartime, by the National Broadcasting Company and the independent radio stations associated with the NBC network. This is the National Broadcasting Company.