Katzer didn't want to spend the time required for the long train ride from Munich to Garmisch, so he paid too much to rent an automobile to make the 120-kilometer drive. At least this gave him some mobility after he arrived at his destination. Upon arriving in Munich, Katzer received a text message from his mother; she had booked him for three nights at the Hotel Bavaria in Garmisch.
His fluent German paid off after he arrived at the Garmisch Polizeistation — police station — since the only English-speaking officers had gone home for the day. He inquired about the man recovered from the glacier and was informed the body was being kept frozen at the Klinikum Garmisch-Partenkirchen, the clinical center in Garmisch. Further query revealed the officer in charge of the case was the only person that could approve a viewing and even then only when accompanied by him.
Katzer arrived at the police station early the next morning and was met by Gerhardt Zeilnhofer, officer in charge of the investigation of the man found inside the Höllentalferner glacier. Zeilnhofer was a short man, maybe 5'6" with an athletic build, close-cropped blond hair, and a defined swagger when he walked.
"Mr. Katzer, how may I be of assistance?" Zeilnhofer asked.
"The man you found inside the glacier last week, have you identified him yet?"
"No, his identity remains a mystery to us, but we are still in the infancy of our investigation. The only thing we have determined is he appears to have fallen into the glacier sometime in the mid-1940s. Probably around the end of the war."
"Did he have any belongings on him, perhaps a book of some sort?" Katzer knew his lack of tact would draw suspicion, but he already had a cover story — the truth — with some selective omissions.
Zeilnhofer was silent for a few seconds. "A rather pointed…and somewhat odd question wouldn't you say, Mr. Katzer? Perhaps you have something you would like to share."
"So he did have something on him," Katzer said.
"No, Mr. Katzer, he did not." Zeilnhofer pointed to a chair. "Have a seat. Please, explain yourself and your questions. I insist."
Katzer spent the next ten minutes explaining that his mother, who was from the small Austrian village of Ehrwald, fell in love with a United States soldier who went AWOL while serving his post at Zugspitze in 1946. She met the man after his father died in the war. The only thing missing other than the man was her diary. If the man they found had the diary, then that would provide positive identification.
Zeilnhofer rubbed his chin. "And you think this Major Don Adams could be this man?"
"I don't know," Katzer said, "but my aging mother does. Enough to send me here to find out so she can have closure. She could never accept the thought that he abandoned her. She was convinced their love was eternal. To know he died in that glacier might lift the burden of the painful memories she's carried with her nearly 70 years."
Zeilnhofer didn't speak at first. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a file folder. Using his finger as a guide, he scanned down a handwritten list of names stopping halfway. "Major Don Adams is on the list of possible identities…but so are 30 other names. I can assure you this man's body had nothing on it but an old watch, which we could not trace back to anyone, and a Schweizer Offiziersmesser."
"A what?" Katzer asked.
"Swiss Army Knife, I believe you Americans call it."
"And that was it?"
"I assure you, Mr. Katzer, there was nothing else on him."
"Did you search the cave?"
"I had my men conduct an exhaustive search of the ice cave. There was nothing else in there but ice."
"Tell me about the watch."
"The watch?" Zelinhofer asked.
Katzer nodded.
"The watch was an old 1917 Waterbury, the kind the U. S. Government issued to soldiers in World War I, which is why we originally thought the remains were much older…the knife changed that. It was crafted in 1945."
Katzer stood and pointed to Zeilnhofer's file. "How many names are on that list?"
"Originally, thirty-three."
"Have you ruled any of them out at all?" Katzer asked.
"Actually we have," Zeilnhofer continued, "we have ruled out thirteen. Either confirmed dead or alive and living elsewhere."
"Which still leaves twenty unaccounted for," Katzer said.
"Precisely," Zeilnhofer said, "and Major Don Adams is one of them. As a matter of fact, all of the remaining names on the list are U. S. soldiers who disappeared during World War II."
Katzer walked around the room then turned to the police officer. "This might seem an odd request, but I'd like to have something definitive to tell my mother. Is there any chance I could see the body and maybe even take a look at that file?"
Zeilnhofer was silent. He seemed to be studying the taller, older Katzer. "I guess I don't see the harm." Zeilnhofer walked to his office door and pulled it open. "Meet me at the clinic in thirty minutes."
Exactly thirty minutes later, Katzer and Zeilnhofer walked into the basement morgue of the Klinikum Garmisch-Partenkirchen. The room was cold — both in temperature and appearance — a stainless steel personality. Stainless tables, chairs, stools, and freezer compartments for the cadavers.
Zeilnhofer walked to one compartment, opened the door, and slid out a smaller table with a corpse covered with a sheet. The police officer pulled back the sheet revealing the torso and arms of the naked man.
"What happened to his clothes?" Katzer asked.
"Removed for autopsy." Zeilnhofer pointed to a bag on the floor. "I can assure you we have searched them diligently looking for any indication as to his identity. Because of the length of time in the ice, there was nothing we could use."
The man's skin was dark brown and stretched tight around his skull, limbs, and torso, yet remarkably preserved for a man dead nearly 70 years. Katzer noticed the twist in the man's arm. "Looks like he must have fallen into the glacier."
The police officer stared at Katzer. "What makes you say that?"
"I'm a mortician by trade." Katzer pointed to the man's arm. "The way the arm snapped, typical when someone tries to break a fall. And here." Katzer pointed to the man's abdomen. "Is that a gunshot wound?"
"The medical examiner said it appeared to be by the nature of the wound, but he indicated the bullet must have been traveling at a relatively slow speed when it hit him. Perhaps a long distance shot." The officer handed Katzer the file. "Is there anything else you can see from a mortician's point of view?"
"Too long in the ice to detect bruising or lacerations, however, it looks like his clavicle fractured when he fell." Katzer rifled through the police file until he found what he was looking for. The police officer took good notes but didn't seem to follow up on any leads. Or, at least what Katzer viewed as leads, anyway. "I guess this was a wasted trip. My mother will go to her grave still wondering what happened to her American soldier."
Katzer closed the file and handed it back to Zeilnhofer.
"Will you be leaving now?" Zeilnhofer asked.
"Not immediately, no. I have relatives in nearby villages that I haven't seen in many years. I planned on paying them a visit." Katzer reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a business card. "If you discover this man's identity, I would appreciate a call or an email. Regardless of whether it is Adams or not, I'd like to be able to put my mother's mind to rest."
The police officer took the card. "Enjoy the rest of your stay, Mr. Katzer."
"Thank you. I will." Katzer turned and walked out of the morgue. Not only did he have what he wanted but he'd confirmed the man's identity as well. The body on the slab in the morgue was indeed that of Major Don Adams. The watch and the knife were good evidence…but the gunshot wound in the abdomen cinched it. Now, time to return to the United States and track down the person listed in the police file as the one who reported finding the body.