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

by Thomas Carr Howe

It was going to take three or four days to line up the trucks necessary for this operation. There was a critical shortage of transportation at the moment because all available vehicles were being used to haul firewood. This was popularly known as “Patton’s pet project.” For some weeks it had first priority after foodstuffs.

We welcomed the delay, for it gave us time to make a trip to Frankfurt. All three of us had urgent business to attend to there. Lamont’s and Steve’s records had to be straightened out. Both of them had been working in the field for so long that the headquarters to which they were technically assigned had lost track of them. And I wanted to find out what had happened to the personal belongings I had left in Frankfurt months ago. When I left I had expected to be gone ten days.

In the back of our minds, too, lurked the hope of becoming “incorporated” as a Special Evacuation Team. That’s what we were in fact, but we wanted to be recognized as such in name. The three of us worked well together and did not want to be separated. The decision would rest with Major La Farge and Lieutenant Kuhn.

We wheedled a command car out of the sergeant at the motor pool and took off late in the afternoon. Lamont, Steve and I rode in the Mercedes-Benz, the command car following. I had little confidence in our rakish convertible. The car had been behaving well enough mechanically, but the tires were paper-thin. They were an odd size and we had not been able to get any replacements. It was reassuring to know that the sturdy command car was trailing along behind.

We arrived at Ulm in time for supper. Long before we reached the city, we could see the soaring single spire of the cathedral silhouetted against the sky. There was literally nothing left of the old city. All the medieval houses which, with the cathedral, had made it one of the most picturesque cities in Germany, lay in ruins. But the cathedral was undamaged.

We stopped for gas just outside Ulm. To our surprise, the Army attendant filled our tanks. This was Seventh Army territory. In Third Army area the maximum was five gallons. I mentioned this to the attendant. He said, “There’s no gas shortage here. General Patton must be building up one hell of a big stockpile.”

We spent the night in Stuttgart. As the main transient hotel was full, we were assigned rooms at a small inn on the outskirts of the battered city. It took us an hour to find the place, so it was past midnight when we turned in.

The next morning we detoured a few kilometers in order to visit the castle at Ludwigsburg. The little town was laid out in the French manner, and its atmosphere was that of a miniature Versailles. The caretaker told us that the kings of Württemberg had lived at the castle until 1918. Our visit to it was the one pleasant experience of the day, which happened to be my birthday. We had our first flat tire in the castle courtyard, a second one an hour later, and a third between Mannheim and Darmstadt. It was Sunday and we had a devilish time finding places where we could get the inner tubes repaired. It was ten P.M. when we pulled into Frankfurt. The trip from Stuttgart had taken eleven hours instead of the usual four. We had spent seven hours on tire repairs.

My old room with the pink brocaded furniture was vacant, so I moved in for the night. In my absence it had been successively occupied by three lieutenant colonels. All of my belongings had been boxed and stored away in the closet. Lamont and Steve put up at the house next door.