Salt mines and castles: The discovery and restitution of looted European art

by Thomas Carr Howe

“Take a good look at the bridge when you cross over tonight,” he said.

It was my turn to be nettled now. “Look here, I don’t mean to be intruding on any precious military secret, but I am expecting a second convoy to join me at Hohenfurth in two days; if the other trucks aren’t going to be able to get through I ought to let the people at Third Army Headquarters know.”

“Well, frankly I don’t know just what the score is, but the colonel probably has definite information,” he said. “What I meant about the bridge is that it’s jammed with people and carts, all coming over to the west side of the Danube. It’s been like that for the past two days and it can mean only one thing—that the Russians aren’t far behind.”

This wasn’t too reassuring, but I decided to take a fatalistic attitude toward it. If I had to find some other route back from Hohenfurth, I’d worry about it when the time came. I did, however, try to get through to Third Army Headquarters on the phone. Posey’s office didn’t answer, so I asked Anderson to put in a call for me in the morning.

It was slow going over the bridge, but we finally forced our way through the welter of carts and wagons. Once we were in open country, the traffic thinned out and we moved along at a faster pace. The Czech and American officers at the frontier recognized us and waved us through without formality. We arrived in Hohenfurth a little before nine. I knew the ropes this time, so it was a simple matter to get the men billeted in the monastery. After that I went on to my own former billet. When I reached the house, I found a group of officers in the recreation room. They were holding an informal meeting. Colonel Sheehan was presiding and motioned to me to join the group. He had just returned from the headquarters at Budweis with important news. His own orders had come through, so he would be pulling out for home in a few days. But of greater concern to me was the news that the Czechs would definitely take over at the end of the week. We would still have some troops in the area, but their duties would be greatly curtailed. I would have to finish the job at the monastery as fast as possible and head back to Munich.

We resumed our work at the monastery with surprisingly few delays. It was almost as if there had been no interruption of our earlier operations. This time I had double the number of PWs, so I did not have to call on the drivers to help with the loading. During my absence, Dr. Mutter had put a stonemason to work on the pieces which had been set into the wall, and these now lay like parts of a puzzle in a neat pattern on the floor of the reception hall, ready to be packed. He had also procured lumber and nails, so my two extra packers were able to get to work on the cases which had to be built. By evening, seven of the trucks were loaded, leaving only one more to do the next day.

That night I consulted one of the officers, who had a wide knowledge of the roads in that area, about an alternate route to Munich. He showed me, on the map, a winding back road which would take me through Passau—instead of Linz and Salzburg—to Munich. It was, he said, a very “scenic route” but longer than the way I had come. He felt sure, though, that I could get my trucks through, that there were no bad detours, etc. It was comforting to know that this route existed as a possibility—just in case. But I still had hopes of being able to go back by way of Linz, in spite of the colonel’s warning.

The next day was the Fourth of July—not that I expected either my French or German associates to take special notice of the fact. Still I was glad that I had only one truck to load on the holiday. I took advantage of the later breakfast hour, knowing that my faithful German packers would be on the job at seven o’clock as usual. When I arrived at the monastery at nine-thirty, I found that the last truck was already half loaded. There was enough room to add the two cases containing the Della Robbia plaque and the Renaissance fireplace taken out of the wall; and, if we were careful, we might find a place for the fifteenth century Florentine relief which the stonemason had also painstakingly removed. Once that was done, there was nothing to do but wait for the arrival of Lieutenant Moore and the additional trucks.

I called the workmen together. In halting German, I explained the significance of the Fourth of July and announced that there would be no more work that day. It was providentially near the lunch hour. I could send the PWs back to their camp as soon as they had eaten. The German packers, intent on returning to Munich as soon as possible, chose to get on with the cases they were building. Dr. Mutter and I retired to his study to take stock of the receipts we had thus far made out. As for the French drivers, they had disappeared to their quarters.

After lunching at the officers’ mess, I decided to celebrate the Glorious Fourth in my own quiet way. Major Whittemore had lent me a car, so I set out on an expedition of my own devising. Ever since the night of our trip to Krummau, I had wanted to explore the castle of Rosenberg, and this seemed the logical time to do it. Rosenberg was only eight kilometers away.