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

by Thomas Carr Howe

We had hoped to leave for Berchtesgaden by midmorning the next day, but we didn’t get off until three in the afternoon. At the last minute I received word from Colonel Davitt’s office that the Mercedes-Benz was to be left at the mine. I said that since we had no escort vehicle, it was an indispensable part of our convoy. That being the case, the colonel’s adjutant said we could take the car, but on condition that we return it within twenty-four hours. I said I’d see what I could do about that.

Steve fumed while I talked. When I hung up the receiver he said, “Don’t be a damn fool. Once the car’s out of his area, the colonel hasn’t got a thing to say about it. Let’s get going.”

Sieber and Eder, together with a dozen of the gnomes, were waiting in front of the mine building when we came down the stairs. Lamont was already in the car. I gave final instructions to the captain of the guard, said good-bys all around, and got in the car myself. Everybody smiled and waved as we drove off.

The evacuation had been a success. Ninety truckloads of paintings, sculpture and furniture had been removed from the mine during the past five weeks. Although it was by no means empty, the most important treasures had been taken out. Third Army was withdrawing from the area. From now on the mine would be the responsibility of General Clark’s forces.

We were a lengthy cavalcade. Lamont and I took the lead. Steve followed in the Steyr truck, in running order at last. Behind him trailed five trucks. We were to pick up eight more at Alt Aussee. It wasn’t going to be easy to keep such a long convoy in line. If we could only stay together until we got over the pass, the rest of the trip wouldn’t be too difficult.

We made it over the pass without mishap. From time to time Lamont looked back to make sure the trucks were still following. He couldn’t count them all, they were so strung out and the road was so winding. But we had instructed the Negro lieutenant to give orders to his men to signal the truck ahead in case of trouble, so we felt reasonably sure that everything was in order. When we reached Fuschl See we stopped along the lake shore to take count. One after another eight trucks pulled up. Five were missing. Fifteen minutes passed and still no sign of the laggards. Steve said not to worry, to give them another quarter of an hour.

The blue waters of the lake were inviting. Schiller might have composed the opening lines of Wilhelm Tell on this very spot. “Es lächelt der See, er ladet zum Bade.” Steve and Lamont decided to have a swim. I dipped my hand in the water; it was icy. While they swam I kept an eye out for the missing vehicles. Presently two officers drove by in a jeep. I hailed them and ask if they had seen our trucks. They had—about ten miles back two trucks had gone off the road. They thought there had been two or three others at the scene of the accident. Lamont and Steve dressed quickly. Steve said he’d go on with the eight trucks and meet us in Salzburg. Then Lamont and I started back toward Bad Ischl.

We hadn’t gone more than five miles when we came upon three of our vehicles. We signaled them to pull over to the side of the road. At first we couldn’t make out what the drivers were saying—all three talked at once. We finally got the story. A driver had taken a curve too fast and had lost control of his truck. The one behind had been following too closely and had also crashed over the side. The first driver had got pinned under his truck and they had had to amputate a finger before he could be extricated. The lieutenant in charge had stayed behind to take care of things. He had told them to try to catch up with the rest of the convoy. By the time they had given us all the details, we realized that they had been drinking. And we guessed that alcohol had also had something to do with the truck going off the road. We would have something to say to the lieutenant when he reached Berchtesgaden. He was new on the job, having replaced Lieutenant Barboza only two days ago. We were thankful that our precious packing materials had been put in two of the trucks up ahead.

Steve was waiting for us in the Mozart Platz when we reached Salzburg an hour and a half later with our three trucks in tow. He told the drivers where they could get chow. The three of us went across the river to the Gablerbräu, the small hotel for transients, for our own supper. The Berchtesgaden operation hadn’t begun auspiciously.

Our troubles weren’t over. When we pulled into Berchtesgaden at eight o’clock, we couldn’t find Major Anderson, so we had to fend for ourselves. We managed to put the drivers up for the one night in a barracks by the railway station before going on to Unterstein ourselves. The lieutenant in charge of the drivers hadn’t turned up when we were ready to go, so I left word that he was to report to me first thing the next morning. While we three felt unhappy over the lack of billeting arrangements for us, we were too tired to think much about it that night. Bed was all that mattered. The officer on duty at the Unterstein rest house said there was an empty room over the entrance hall which we could use until we got permanent quarters. There were three bunks, so we moved in.