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Something Oranje


Something Oranje


Something Oranje Seán Ó’Meáçáir


© 2011 by Seán Maher All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher. Printed in the United States of America Free Derry Publishing Co. 1416 Pennsylvania Street Denver, Colorado 80203 Ó'Meáçáir, Seán Something Oranj / Seán Ó'Meáçáir. – 1st edition


Table of Contents


Forward足足

ii

Epilogue

1

One: October 27, 1922 to March 15, 1932

40

Two: March 15, 1932 to August 29, 1939

54

Three: Oranje

76

Four: Down

91


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

i


Something Oranj

Forward The Jewish Consuptives’ Relief Society, located just outside of Denver, Colorado, was a sanatorium for people suffering from tuberculosis and was founded in 1904. The patients who received aide were given so without need of payment. Dr. Charles Spivak was the lead doctor in charge of JCRS and was known world wide for his superior tuberculosis treatments. National Jewish was JCRS’ competition, and what set aside JCRS was their acceptance of almost any person who applied; whereas National Jewish would only accept those who seemed to promis a full recovery. The JCRS campus has since gone into helping with cancer research, and currently houses Rocky Mountain College of Art & Design.

ii


Epilogue


Something Oranje

I woke today. 1


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

The sunlight came right through the window bedside and pounded my cheek. This place is quiet. Too quiet. But not the quiet that relaxes you, like a nap beside a lake in Austria. No, this quiet is caused from death lingering in these halls. It sends chills down my spine; I shutter every time the lights wave now. I feel that my time may be soon, but not yet.  Sometimes I hate this place. No; I hate this state I am in. I hate being forced from my country, after all that I did, and forced to die alone with no money. Who would have thought this is how I go? I wish I still had my youthfulness, I used to be so grand at decoding languages, and now I can hardly understand what anybody is saying to me here. Imagine that! Going from decoding some of the most elaborate codes this world has ever seen from mere broken translations to not even knowing a language that is spoken by all my peers every day. My youth: gone. I wonder where it has gone. Will I find it again soon? My days are numbered.

I can feel death studying me as a lie asleep.

I survived the largest war the world has ever known and I am going in the middle of some cowboy town I’ve seen in a few of those picture films when I would visit Paris; I used to live in Toulouse, in the south of France you know?


Something Oranje

I remember.

Remember October 1922?

3


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

I remember.


Something Oranje

My first day in the League‌

5


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

A beam of dust was illuminated from the sun bursting through the window of my bedroom. The browning wallpaper was slowly removing itself from the corners of the walls, creating cracks and gaps racing your eyes from ceiling to floor and back again. Musk was in the air. It was as if the walls were holding in secrets of the nights. I rolled over and my sheets followed. The sun reached my eyes, forcing my eyelids to squeeze tightly shut. My eyes slowly focused and I found my cigarette extinguished in the ashe tray. I glanced at the time not really wanting to know what it was. I was still sleepy, but the sunlight in the room that made the dust glow, and the browning, smoke stained walls, and the warm air made it seem that the room was full and active. I woke. My feet hit the cool wooden planks that lined the floor. My toes startled, and lifted back up before pouncing back onto the surface again. My weight shifted, pushing it upon my legs. I stood, stretched and made my way to the bathroom. I turned the faucet on my sink; the noise was far too loud, but I withstood, knowing it was only an affect from the wine last night. I cupped my hands and filled


Something Oranje

them with the cold water. Time seemed to regain normalcy as the liquid confronted my face as if each droplet was ice, instantly waking my skin and senses. I walked over to my wardrobe to grab my clothes. First day on the job. I turned the silver handle and opened the burgundy door. I grabbed my trousers and jacket, put on a clean, ironed shirt, tied my tie, cuffed the trousers, tied my laces, swung the jacket over my shoulder and headed for the stairs. I glanced down at my wristwatch; plenty of time. I passed the kitchen purposely, I refused to see how unorganized and dirty it surely was. Last night was a good night, a fun night. Friends of past and present came in to exchange stories, all in good company. The party was in my favor though. I had bagged the job I have been dreaming about since graduation from grammar school. A celebration was in order. In fact, thinking of it now, I thought I felt somebody else in the bed with me this morning. Hope I didn’t wake them. Out the front door and turn to slide my jacket on and wrestle my bicycle’s handlebars free of the iron fencing. Once free, I was off on my way to what would become my future. I made it downtown to the League’s Toulouse location, a slim four story building just a 7


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

few blocks from the capitol. I walked into the front door and had a morbid, almost exhaustingly boring exchange with the receptionist. I don’t remember her name, something like Adelle, or Abelle, something like that. She was in her thirties and the American flapper trend did not fit her very well at all. Regardless, nothing can make me unhappy today. To get into the League’s inner workings, it is a time exuberant process. First you are looked up through photograph recognition and name recognition, then by serial identification and important facts, and lastly you pass through two different people who check your body by feeling every little spot. It’s extremely important that this is done because the League deals with government documents from neighboring and relatively close European nations, and a lot of them were obtained illegally. Once past the security, I walked back into the main hallway and to the double doors at the end. These doors didn’t hide that they held something of importance just from reach. The League is very proud that it has remained a secret through the end of The Great War, and the Treaty of Versailles, breaking powerhouses and creating a mass instability of trust throughout the European Union. My job in


Something Oranje

this secret agency is to sift through documents of past relations of countries so that I may learn from the context and begin to create ways to decipher information quickly. I am in training to become a spy. Being my first day, I assumed the day would be relaxed a bit; I would be learning where everything is and simply the system of work. That was not the case. As I walked in through the extremely heavy doors, a towering Frenchman grabbed me by the back of my neck. His hands could easily palm my head; my neck was no challenge. His fingertips drove into my flesh and seemed to pierce into my raw nerves making me almost paralyzed. He told me in a deep French voice to follow him immediately. I had no choice, as I couldn’t even follow him. I was like a pet and his arm was the leash. He led me towards the main hall, but before we crossed the threshold, he quickly turned my spine sharply to the left. He threw me into a room and closed the door quickly and deliberately. I found myself standing in front of a small chair, a table, and three older, seasoned men staring intently at me, as if they were grading me if I were to stand or sit, and how I did so. 9


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

I took a seat. I was born May 17th, 1904 in Brussels, Belgium. I just moved here about a week ago now for this new job. The Belgian government has positioned me here. I am unsure why. Maybe Toulouse has a wondrous spy training facility? Belgium: Battlefield of Europe. I bet it’s a security measure so that trainees are not put into the field too soon. The interview with the gentlemen whom were sitting across from me was so intimidating. These men were soft-spoken, wise if you will. Every word seemed to have so much previous pondering prior to it leaving their mouths. They told me that I have been inducted into an elite society of spies that will, if the need be, generate mass amounts of information from rogue European countries. They said that I would have ten years of training and work experience deciphering code and information in informational analysis as well as an upright period of physical training followed by random periodical training tests. This is my dream: to know that I will one day be able to examine first-hand the lost, broken, and stolen information of others; others whom are known on a first name basis in historical documents; to be a spy. The door knocked.


i


am


becoming


a


spy.


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

A man peered in, looking completely through me and to the man across the table on my left. He said nothing, simply nodded, and the man across the table excused himself. The remaining two men looked at each other, began the briefing. The men showed me to a section of the main room to the right and down a small hall to what seemed to become an entire warehouse of artifacts and information. I quickly realized this building had an entire infrastructure under the building I entered through, and this infrastructure was not based upon that buildings design at all, this room alone extended well past the dimensions of that building above. They gave me a folder of my own, an identification badge, and a pen. As they turned to leave me in this room, one of them emotionlessly said,

Wow us. I opened the folder they had just handed me. Inside was a sheet with what seemed to be instructions and behind that was a ream of paper. I read the directions. Entry to Belgian League. Area 012.

Analysis Training Exercise 001.23.B. Go through records. Find information that is relevant to


Something Oranje

each other and create a story that is probable and possible. Time allowed: 12 hours. I didn’t know

what exactly my job was, so I just starting walking down aisles looking for a year or a name that I had some familiarity. Two hours passed and I had nothing. Actually, I had only opened a few boxes. I found that this room only housed one year, 1916, meaning I spent those two hours looking for other numbers that did not exist in this room. When I started doubling back from the second shelving unit, I reached the ‘C’ section. I then began putting some ideas together. “1916. Ireland. British rule had experienced some turmoil in an extravagant and ultimately worthless uprising. Rising: that’s part of the name of the event, I believe. Oh, what is it? Easter Rising! Michael Collins! C!” My pace quickened as my finger raced across boxes to find the succession of the alphabet on each box.

17


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Ca


Something Oranje

19


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Cb


Something Oranje

21


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Cc


Something Oranje

23


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Cd


Something Oranje

Ce

25


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Cf


Something Oranje

Cg

27


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Ch


Something Oranje

Ci

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Cj


Something Oranje

Ck

31


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Cl


Something Oranje

Cm

33


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Cn


Something Oranje

35


Coa Cob Coc Cod Coe Cof Cog Coh Coi Coj Cok Col

Colabella Colacchio Colado Colahan Colao Colapinto Colar Colberg Colding Cole Colfax Colier Collado Collard Collen Collet Collichio Collick Collicot Collier Colligan Collina Colling Collinge Collingham Collington Collingsworth Collingwood Collini

Collins.


Collins, Micheal.

Date of Birth: 10 –16–1890

Irish Republican Brotherhood

Irish Free State

Deceased:

8–22–1922; gunshot wound to the skull.

Bullet unrecovered.

Engaged to Kittie Kierna


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

The door opened allowing a gust of fresh air hit my face and engulf my lungs. I had forgotten other smells. Then the question arose. The directions said I had twelve hours to Wow them. Why is this man here now? He bustled in, told me to put everything back as quickly as possible, and as I slid the box back onto the shelf which I had taken out, he grabbed my arm and we walked furiously to the door. I was confused but knew not to ask too many questions. At this point, having already been briefed about basic protocol before leaving Belgium, and the protocols that this League house in Toulouse, this was nothing unheard of. We made our way from the hallway back into the main room where people all gathered and listening intently to the man from my briefing that departed early.


Something Oranje

Earlier this year Belgian and French troops occupied the Ruhr, an industrial center of the Rhine in Germany, as stated in the Treaty of Versailles in order to keep Germany demilitarized. Since the cease of The Great War, Germany had been economically and politically in shambles. The news that had attracted everybody here today was that a man, a highly decorated German war veteran from the Great War, who had gained some running politically had just marched into a beer hall demanding that the Triumvirate join and support him in a national revolution. Everybody in the room hearing this was not surprised by this news; it was only a matter of time before Germany would throw itself a bone, or into a civil war. The chances that this man succeeds at gaining the governing members of Bavaria as allies for his revolution was slim to none, thus creating the stir if the Belgian forces would need to intervene to bring some order into the situation, but no actions were discussed just yet. People settled back into their regular routines and I returned to do some more research on Easter Rising and to find other areas to create a hidden story that maybe was not known to the League, maybe. But after only a few mere hours the day was over. I am going home today a spy. Every action I make from this point forth will be recorded by the League. 39


One


October 27, 1922 to March 15, 1932


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

October 23, 1922 The League is asking that all new recruits write daily in what they call personal informational booklet organizers. A lot of letters for a journal. I used to keep journals when I was a boy. I would make up characters and pretend I was going to different worlds when I would ride my bicycle down the creek that was next to my house. It was a nice house. In Brussels. It was brick, and tall. The yard was kind of small, not too small though. It had enough room for clothes to be hung and a small shed where we would keep lawn mishaps and such. It was a great place to explore. I would take long bicycle rides, come back, and hide away in the shed until it became too dark to see inside the unlit shelter. It smelled like raw wood. I love that smell. It smells like adulthood. It smells like hard work. Well anyway, here I am, back at the League. I have my own desk already! I’m told it’s small; I’ve never had a desk like this before. I feel important. Well, I guess I am. There is a stack of folders on it. Maybe twenty some deep. I sift through them: nothing strikes my eye as interesting. I know I’ll have to devour them soon, but I will wait until I am


Something Oranje

told. I pulled the drawer open and it’s all emptied out. Some paper scraps and fasteners linger from the last owner of this desk, but that’s it. I wonder how long they were a Junior Analyst. That name makes this job sound so much more exciting, but in reality, all I do is sift through paperwork, letters, phone calls, telegrams, any kind of correspondence, and try and pick out anything that may be important. And because it’s only my second day, it’s all historical paperwork. None of it is worthwhile because the fun has been taken out of it. Only the boring remains. Man oh man I cannot wait to be able to at least see the words written by somebody important that is still important, or is involved in some important current event. The man that grabbed my neck yesterday just visited my desk. He’s a lot nicer now that he knows I passed the inspection. He told me that I am to go through the stack of folders on my desk and alphabetize them, then mess them up, and reorder them chronologically. He said it’s so coding becomes second nature. Easy enough, just boring.

Is this job taxable?

43


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October 31, 1922 I came into work today to finish some paperwork that was given to me yesterday. I am almost up to current intelligence! That sounds blind to say, but nevertheless, I am pleased. So a few hours passed, and so did a quick meal break, and when I returned, two unfamiliar men were standing over my desk, both in suits and both pulling up their sleeves to check their silver watches. Something’s odd. I walk up to them and ask if they need assistance. They ask my name, and I glance at the nametag on the edge of my desk, directly next to where one is leaning. The man asking me gets the hint and drops a thick folder on my desk. Folders! What is it with folders here? Current intelligence? This soon? I wasn’t expecting that! They show me to the man I am to report to now. Apparently the assessment a few days earlier was really a way for them to judge my personal attributes that are visible, like how I carry myself. They seemed to be impressed, which, correct me if I’m wrong, but these guys are obviously retired spies, who made a living reading people… and I’ve only been here three days. Spectacular!


Something Oranje

Feb. 20, 1923 Just finished up a recap of some of the happenings in Italy recently. Benito Mussolini took power when I was just starting here at the League. He marched on Rome, gained recognition in the government, and now has pushed himself to power with his support of Black Shirt Fascists. Fascism is an interesting concept; it seems like it is extremely plausible, but not with a man like Mussolini, a power hungry savage. He’s one of those men who, if given the option, would gladly give up men’s lives for some headlines; which is what he is doing. Following the Treaty of Versailles, Europe had been on an odd shift. Industries were pouring out goods, the demand was low,

thus creating a breaking economy, but people are learning how to easily benefit from it. Countries have been split and new

dictatorships argue daily over power and who gets how much.

It’s a game; a game that is soon going to flip completely. I fear that something is looming ahead. That being said, yesterday I

received a telegram from the League’s main office in Brussels. They are sending me back to Belgium for a quick assessment

meeting. Did I do something wrong? My nerves are losing me.

What if I lose this job? Or what if I am already being stationed somewhere for spy training or work? This soon?

45


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

M a y b e

E u r o p e

i s

c r u m b l i n g .


Something Oranje

Feb. 25, 1923 I’m here, back in Brussels. Nothing has changed. Sure, I’ve only been in France for fifteen months, but come on. Not even some of the decaying brick on the cathedrals has been retouched. That was ordered to be done when I was still a boy! The address they gave me in the telegram is odd. It is only a few blocks from my parent’s home. Do I know the building? Wow, this is the most obvious place to house intelligence. How have I never thought twice about it before? I used to pass this building daily on my way home from grammar school. It’s a wide, marble white building with two black, solid doors. It seems everything is so solid, like it would weigh tons! And boy, those doors probably do! Trying to open those suckers is no easy task, you really have to heave your back into it. And apparently they know it there. Upon entering, I was told there is a set of smaller doors just to the side of the heavy ones, and those are meant for actual use; the heavy ones haven’t been oiled and remounted in ages. I looked down at the floor and saw deep scratches where the corner of the door had drug from being a bit crooked in the wall. Oops, hopefully nobody saw me examine that.

47


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I walked to the front desk and was told to take a seat, whomever I am to talk to has been expecting me. A buzz is heard from a machine under the front desk and an usher walks to me and gestures for me to go ahead in to the room with floorto-ceiling frosted glass doors. Beautiful, yet so daunting. He opens one of the doors and I slide myself in. I take a seat. The room is warm with sunshine, the wood desk and coffee table complimenting the feel. The man to whom this office belongs walks up to me, greats me with a booming voice, shakes my hand and offers me a drink. He’s French. I don’t know whether to actually take him seriously or not, but then I reexamine the room, and note its prestige, and quickly take that drink and swallow all uncertainty. He starts with small talk, about the job, and so on and so forth until I get a bit anxious and move along. I asked him whether or not I should be worried with this meeting and if my job is stable. He simply replied, “Well, that is up to you.” Confused, I allowed him to continue. The conversation ensued, and as I walked out, I saw my future. It was a glorious idea in my head. The news I have been shipped back to Belgium to hear is that I am to be shipped to an undisclosed area


Something Oranje

and begin work as a ranked analyst working to sift through the intel from what truly is a crumbling European continent. I am so close to gaining my title as a person without a name, a person known simply by a number, to be a spy, that I can literally taste it! Amidst the excitement that ensued from me hearing all this, I was told to go to the train station in two hours, hike through the lots, get to the back where the military trains roll through, and wait for a man with a briefcase. He should be the only person back there that isn’t a railman, so it should be no worry. I do so, and once I am back in to rear lot, find a bundle of wood and take a seat. It’s loud back here. So much is going on: men tying rods to tracks, welding on new boxcars, and trains passing by over and over again. The drum of noise in monotonous, and quickly lulled me to sleep. I woke, peered up, for my head had slunk into my lap, and saw the man with the briefcase standing before me, just watching me. I jumped to my feet. He was not amused; I could see it in his face. HE said to follow in an accent I couldn’t place. I really don’t know where that accent is from. That’s going 49


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

to nip at my head all day now. I followed him to an unmarked train car. It was the only one attached to the steam engine. I’ve never seen such a short train. He held out the suitcase as a way to usher me up the steps and into the car. I took a seat, and he stood over me, gave me the briefcase, told me to not open it until instructed to do so, and said that we were on our way to London. A few hours later we boarded a ship, and made our way across the British Channel. I am told that I am to give up all of my personal belongings now to the man who gave me this briefcase, and that includes this journal. He let me open the case and in it was paperwork stating that I am to undergo first-class training to become somebody who doesn’t exist.

I am about to begin my training as a


Spy


From February 26, 1923 to January 13, 1932 Maurice Bernard CoĂŤlho will undergo rigorous, top secret training while maintaining his trade of being an analyst.


This journal has been confiscated from the League and will, from this point on, only be used to house correspondence from CoĂŤlho on the field, wherever that may entail.


Two


March 15, 1932 to October 1, 1943


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

March 15, 1932 Location: Germany Status: Moving

Coëlho

I am making my way through Germany. It seems to be the least stable since the Treaty of Versailles. I need to make my way through to give a complete assessment; learn the government and its plans first hand, but attempts are futile. This country is weeping for health. The economy no longer exists. Reality is poor; hunger and strife is reality. It is nearly impossible to keep my job a priority when living is a feat. Misery this strong should never be experienced by so many. How much longer will the world feel the tremors of the economy crash? I will do my best to gain seniority and make my way through ranks to learn as much as I can. This country is in ruins, and anything that gets any kind of support can take hold. Dozens try weekly, but none speak for the people of this country.


Something Oranje

January 31, 1933 Location: Germany Status: Stagnant

CoĂŤlho

Adolf Hitler has named himself Chancellor of Germany. Yesterday’s night was riddled with candlelight in Berlin. He and his groups paraded into the night, boasting his news. He has won the country. Note: Nazi Socialist Party is something I will be watching very closely. Seems very similar to Mussolini. Seems harmless now, just an overflow of government going on. Will keep League posted.

57


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February 28, 1933 Location: Germany Status: Stagnant; on notice

Coëlho

Hitler and Nazi party is a larger threat to Europe than I thought. He is gaining military power extremely quickly. His Nazi party has burned down the Reichstag, then proceeded to tell the masses that Hitler can stop the national security risks, giving him more power. That sneaky little bastard! He is cheating the people.


what is he capable of?


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

May 7, 1934 Location: Germany Status: Stagnant; on notice

Coëlho

requesting permission to be withdrawn from this area.

jewish business boycotts & book burnings. area becoming hostile. evac: unnecessary. identity: not on risk. personal entanglement. i feel that i cannot get into the nazi party to get undiscovered intel. all i can do is report news. i am jewish and to infiltrate the nazis is threatening.

Europe is flipping upside down.


Something Oranje

May 11, 1934 Location: Germany Status: Stagnant; Leave: Denied

CoĂŤlho

Book burnings last night. College students were involved. Nazi party has targeted the youth. Hitler has something big in plan. More anti-Jew actions are being ordered and practiced. Germany is falling. I have begun to infiltrate into the Nazi propaganda headquarters. News flies around in here. Hitler is making plans to join with war generals to create an army that can create a living space suitable to house Germans across Europe. He is looking to spread an empire. Germany everywhere? Action necessary?

65


Where books are burned, human beings are being burned too.

Heinrick Heine


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

September 15, 1935 Location: Germany Status: Stagnant

Coëlho

Nuremburg Laws: Jews have no rights. Nazis have supreme control and have violated the demilitarization of Germany. I am going underground to keep with information. Do not write me. I will surface when necessary.


Something Oranje

May 7, 1938

CoĂŤlho

Hitler has shared his will to annex Poland in the next week.

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Seán Ó'Meáçáir

August 27, 1939

Coëlho

Germany is in a complete militarized boom. Everything is in motion. The skies are black from exhaust of mobilized armies. War is looming over Europe like a shadow from a tree at late afternoon. Hell is surely to rise, with Hitler parading in front, and Satan proudly at his side. This world is about to experience a new evil; an evil unthought-of; an evil so great it will make the world tremble.


Something Oranje

Beware; I fear this day is near.

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Something Oranje

o en

k bro as rh wa ut 73


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

September 3, 1939

I am fleeing to the northwest. I may run to France, but regardless, my communications will not wither. My Journal has been returned upon my return.

Coëlho


Something Oranje

August 29, 1939

CoĂŤlho

I am back in Britain. The League has set up a station just outside of the city of Norwich, and underground two levels. We are to be safe here, but none of that matters. We don’t have time to think about our safety. All we do is breathe this German code. It’s called the Enigma code. We have just gotten ahold of some of the transfers from wirings. This is intense stuff. I became well trained in breaking codes when I was still learning the tricks of my trade, but I cannot wait to be summoned to get outside again and get my hands dirty where the battle is. I hate being this far from everything.

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Three


Something Oranje

Oranje

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Seán Ó'Meáçáir

October 31, 1939

Coëlho

I have been ordered to return to the field. I am going to be dropped overnight into Berlin, where I will be a German newspaper columnist working with the propaganda divisions. My name will be Klaus Mueller. I cannot stand it.


Something Oranje

April 18, 1940

Coëlho

I’ve been working at this newspaper for a long time now trying to get up the ladder. It is proving impossible. I go to bars regularly to catch any whispers of happenings. Nothing has been coming up lately. But, that is all about to change because I just received a telegram from London stated the Enigma code has been broken. Thank goodness the League’s code is almost completely unbreakable. It took me three years to learn it! Now I see why it’s so important. I’ll keep my ears to the ground.

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Seán Ó'Meáçáir

May 10, 1940

Coëlho

I really need to get on top of this information. The German army is moving faster than I think its own country is ready for! One day I hear that the army is at a stand still, the next it has taken over entire countries. German forces are now in Luxembourg, France, Belgium and Holland. Funny thing: just in today is a telegram telling me that I am to be reinstated in Nijmegen; exactly where the Nazis are headed. So much for intel, I’ll be trying to stay alive!


Something Oranje

June 3, 1940

Coëlho

This may be the last time I’ll be able to write for a while. These people are in complete fear. It hurts to see them react to the German troops. These are strong people, but when the Germans push rifles down there throats, they toss their egos away. War is hell. I’ve been staying with a family in their home for a bit now. They have been kind enough to let me sleep in their house; they have no idea that I am not from Holland. I have a great accent and look the part, but I’m calmer around the troops. I’ve been around weapons far too long to be scared of machine gun fire into the sky. I know when a bullet is fired at you versus near you. Zing!

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Seán Ó'Meáçáir

June 15, 1940

Paris has fallen.

Coëlho

I gave the League a fair warning. But what could they do? Europe is on its heels. Britain is the only country that has a chance to fight back, and they are getting their asses kicked. It won’t be long until Germany is knocking at their doorstep. I’ve been speaking to some of the German soldiers. They say the reason why their forces move so fast is because of air superiority and the use of what they call the “Blitzkrieg”. The blitzkrieg is when they have their air force fly over and gun the area down, then have the tank regiments roll hell over it, and finally, clean up with infantry. How to play defense against that? That is a good question. I sent a letter to London saying they should set up a large offensive as soon as they can so they can hopefully keep some momentum. The United States would be great if they helped, but they remain neutral.


Something Oranje

July 11, 1940

CoĂŤlho

Communication with London is on hold for now. Headlines read Battle for Britain! Nightly bombings and air raids are going on along with dogfights just over the coast of Britain. Is Germany going to get everything they want? Is this how it happens?

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Seán Ó'Meáçáir


Something Oranje

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Seán Ó'Meáçáir

May 9, 1941

Coëlho

Some great news, and some greatly horrifying news. The good great news: a U-Boat has been captured that has the charts for the Enigma code! We have an upper hand on the Germans now! We can see everything they are doing quickly! Bad news, word has gone out that Germany is making way of executing all Jews. Poland will be first.

God help them.


Something Oranje

God, help them.

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Seán Ó'Meáçáir

December 20, 1941

Coëlho

Japan decided to attack a US military base. Why they didn’t finish them off, beats me, but now the US is angry and in the war for blood. I’ve been sent to meet with General Eisenhower and President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, along with Winston Churchill, to begin discussions of a large-scale counterattack, giving the allies a bump back into combat. Churchill is all for it; he wants to jump troops back behind enemy lines from North Africa this month, yeah right! I can sense calmness and knowledge in the Americans. They are collected. With Hitler giving himself more and more power daily, something drastic has to be done, and soon.


Something Oranje

Roosevelt and Eisenhower agreed to begin dropping troops to first isolate Italy, then swoop through and clean to Britain, then regroup and hit Germany hard and fast. I am skeptical about this plan, but I believe that, after my many years examining Mussolini, he will be easy to knock off the playing board soon. He is too power hungry and relies too much on the positions of others. I shared almost everything I know about Mussolini with them.

89


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

October 1, 1943

Coëlho

The war is turning! I have been relaying as much information as I can to the Allies while stationed back in Holland. This time I’m in Arnhem. It’s safer; the Germans are stationed a few cliques away and are very calm and unthreatening. I’ve been able to catch drunken infantrymen, and sometimes even officers, in the bars, and they love to talk. They have been expressing the German cockiness towards their newly reprogrammed Enigma code, and have ended up telling me the codes a few times. It’s amazing what a costume from a dead soldier can do! So I’ve relayed that back to HQ for the League to share accordingly. Talk continues of a large-scale attack to get the Americans into Europe. Italy has fallen, now it’s time we take Germany!


Four


Down


Something Oranje

November 2, 1943

CoĂŤlho

I’ve been diagnosed with tuberculosis.

93


Seán O’Meagher

sorrow


Something Oranj

hurts


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

November 28, 1943

Coëlho

The League has talked to Roosevelt of my new condition. Roosevelt said the best place to get treatment in the United States, one of the only safe havens right now, is National Jewish. It’s in Denver, Colorado. Of all the places I’ve been, I’ve never been that far west in the US. It’s the Wild West. So boring. But on a darker note, my case is too severe to get treatment there. I’m hopeless. My days are blackened. I’m destined to die. So they are sending me to this sanatorium just up the road in Spivak, Colorado. I don’t care at this point. I’m going to die, aren’t I. Might as well make it a last adventure. Meanwhile, Patton has been in correspondence with me through stamps. We have developed a way to inscribe messages in the adhesive. We have been planning a few different ideas for large-scale attacks just across the English Channel into France where the Allies can get a foothold.


Something Oranje

January 15, 1944

CoĂŤlho

Upon news of my condition, I have not stopped going to the bars to get information, and hopefully pass this shit to these Bastards! But they keep supplying me with news. I guess Arnhem is where the German officers get sent if they have enough points to go on leave for a few weeks. I piece the intel together, piece by piece, then send it to the League via stamps. We have created the counter-attack for the Allies. They are going to attack the five main beach heads in Normandy, hopefully overpowering the bunkers, while the American paratroopers land behind the bunkers and clean them out from behind. The Americans, British, and even Canadians will all get in on this one. This

m i g h t b e m y m a s t er p i e c e .

97


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

May 1, 1944

Coëlho

Just got to Colorado to this place in Spivak. It’s the Jewish Consumptives’ Relief Society Sanatorium. It seems all right. I’m not used to this much air, and this much sunlight. It feels nice. It's like the Austrian mountains, but drier. The sun warms my worn face from the inside out. I feel young again. I am grateful that the League got me out here, but did they have to really just leave me with no money? After all that I have done for them? Oh well, what is money for anyway? It’s only a mere possession.


Something Oranje

September 20, 1944

Coëlho

Did they not listen to a word I sent them?! I told them not to send troops into Holland! The Germans were moving Tigre divisions on a monthly basis! Gah! I am so upset! That’s what happens when you don’t listen to your intelligence agents!

99


Seán Ó'Meáçáir


Something Oranje

101


May 8, 1945

Victory in Europe


Something Oranje

December 17, 1945

Coëlho

I’m surprised I still have this old thing. I completely lost memory of it. Boy is it nice to remember. Well, I can feel it’s almost my time. Eisenhower sent me a message the other day with signatures from all the big leagues of the allies. I like that guy. He’s a real leader.

I

s u r v i v e d

103

W W I I


Seán Ó'Meáçáir


Something Oranje

105


Seán Ó'Meáçáir


Something Oranje

107


Seán Ó'Meáçáir

August 22, 1946


Something Oranje

deceased

109


Something Oranje


All documents Courtesy of: JCRS Collection, Beck Archives Special Collections, Penrose Library Center for Judaic Studies University of Denver, 2008 Patient Name: Maurice Bernarn CoĂŤlho Folder N o 11833 Box N o 157


Colophon Typeface: Adobe Caslon Pro Cover Substrates: Neenha Classic Linen Epic Black 80 lb. Cover Stock Wausau Astrobright Orbit Orange lb. Interior Paper: Neenha Sundance Felt Ultra White 70 lb. Seรกn Maher: Designer Visual Sequencing CD 3020 Professor: Martin Mendelsberg



Something Oranje