Gas Chamber Story 10: Spy Ring
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Spy Ring Part I
“Do we pick her up now?” one of the two FBI agents asked his partner as they watched the small, pretty, Japanese American woman take pictures of the ship in Los Angeles harbor in the Spring of 1942.
“Not yet,” the other agent replied. “We need to see where she goes. I want to find her contacts. She’s not working on her own, I want the bigger fish.”
The two agents watched as the woman quickly folded her Ansco camera and slipped it into her purse. Quietly, she walked away from the pier after taking pictures of one of the ships that had survived Pearl Harbor sitting in drydock, awaiting repair as well as two heavy cruisers that were taking on supplies. Casually, she strolled down the sidewalk and mingled in the crowd. As she passed by many people gave her stern looks due to her Japanese ancestry. The agents continued to watch as she turned a corner and entered an alley where she knocked on a door of a secluded building.
“Let’s just see who come to the door,” the first agent said as they watched and waited.
“This is an Italian neighborhood,” the other agent said.
“Yeah, but we believe this one is just the go between. “We have another one to locate and that’s the one I want.”
Slowly the door opened and a young woman of Italian descent stuck her head out the door and looked around before she let the Japanese-American woman in. Less than one full minute later she left the house without her camera.
“Do we follow her?” the second agent asked.
“No, we know who she is and where’s she’s going. She’s going to have a surprise when she gets home. Our people are already waiting on her.”
“What about the Italian girl?”
“Right now she’s starting to develop the pictures, let her do it. Then she will pass them on to another agent who is the kingpin in this spy ring. This operation has been the most effective one that the Axis has ever operated here on the West Coast.”
“So, for now we wait.”
“Yep and we’ll nab the Japanese girl right after the Italian girl makes contact with her boss.”
For two hours the agent waited and then a blonde haired women driving a 1941 Buick Roadmaster coupe pulled into the alley. She got out of the car and knocked on the same door the Japanese woman had knock on earlier.
“There’s the kingpin,” the first agent said.
“Damn, she’s a looking,” the second agent commented.
“Yeah, but she’s German, a German Nazi may I add. I want her in the gas chamber more than I do the other two.” He looked into the rearview mirror as a car pulled up behind him and flashed its lights. “There’s our relief. We’ll follow the German woman and they will wait for us to nab her and then they’ll get the Italian girl. The German gal will have the prints, but she should still have the negatives.”
“She’s coming out.”
“Good,” he said as he started the Flathead Ford. “I know where she’s going.” He eased out on the clutch and followed the Buick through the city and into a suburb. He eased the Ford up to the curb as the woman started to enter a house. “Let’s move.”
The two agents walked up behind the woman as she opened the door. She turned as she heard them approach. “How may I help you?” She asked.
“You can help us by giving us the pictures you just picked up Miss Hydel, or should I say Miss Hidelmann,” the first agent said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, please leave or I will call the police!”
He pulled his badge from his pocket, “Go ahead, we’re FBI.”
She jumped through the now open door and tried to shut it but the agents forced their way in. She reached into her purse and pulled out a Walther PPK, but the second agent soon got into a wrestling match with her. They fell to the floor as they fought over the gun.
“Take her alive!” The first agent said as he tried to pry her mouth open to make sure she didn’t have a cyanide capsule to bite down on.
“This dame is a fighter,” the second agent said as he managed to get the gun from her hand.
The first agent reached into her purse and retrieved the pictures as well as a cyanide capsule. “You forgot to take your medicine this morning, too bad. I will keep it for you.”
“You swine!” She screamed, but this time with a German accent.
‘We got her,” the other agent said. “Let’s get her to the jail and we’ll tear this place apart and see what she has here.”
As the first two agents waited for more men from the FBI to arrive two more agents eased the door that led to the alley open and quietly entered the building where the Italian woman had just finished developing another roll of film that had been delivered by the same Japanese woman. As she entered the adjoining room, she saw the two FBI agents. She stopped and looked at them and then said, “I know why you’re here. I will go quietly.”
“Take her,” one of the agents said. “I’m going to search his place. There’s probably a lot of negatives hidden nearby.
“They’re all in the cabinet inside the darkroom,” the woman said.
“Get her out of here,” he said to his partner.
The Japanese woman had just made it to her apartment. As she entered and turned on the lights she was face to face with two more FBI agents. She looked at both men as one of them took her by the arm. “I have disgraced my Emperor.”
“Come along,” one agent said. “You can disgrace you Emperor more when we put you in the gas chamber.”
The newspaper headlines flashed across the nation as well as the news reals in the theaters, ‘Lady Spy Ring Broken up on West coast. All three Axis women on trial for their lives’
Spy Ring part 2
The three women were kept in separate jails in the Los Angeles area while federal agents searched their homes and prosecutors prepared to try the cases that would send the three young women to the gas chamber at San Quentin.
“What’s the word out of Washington?” One of the FBI agents asked.
“The Justice Department as well as your boss and the president want to make examples in this case,” the prosecutor answered. “However, the Italian girl is the weakest link in the spy chain. We’re hoping she talks before we go to trial.”
“What if she talks? Will you go easier on her?”
The prosecutor shook his head, “My boss and your boss says no. However, she will be the last one in the chamber. We’ll give her time to decide if she has anything to say that might be useful.”
“So, the other two go first. It’s like you already have the trial over before it starts.”
“They’re spies, what do you expect. We’ll try them together, but we’ll execute them separately.”
“The chamber at San Quentin has two chairs, you can get the German and Japanese women at the same time.”
“Washington doesn’t want it that way. Maybe one will open up and rat others who are floating around the west coast out. If we do two together they may clam up.”
“Ok, when doe the trial start?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Their lawyers haven’t had time to prepare a defense.”
“The federal docket has been cleared just for them. We’ll try them together and then set three different execution dates. The trail shouldn’t last a day.”
The trail started a week later. All three women sat silently as the evidence against them was presented to the federal jury. Picture recovered from their residences, radios that were capable of reaching Berlin and Tokyo as well as code books. The jury deliberated less than an hour and returned a verdict. GUILTY was the headlines in the papers and the newsreels.
The first lady spy was brought to stand before the judge. “Fumiko Matsukawa, you have been found guilty of espionage, do you have anything you would like to say before I pass sentence?”
The small 24-year-old Japanese woman bowed and said, “I gladly die for my Emperor.”
“Very well, the Judge replied. “Fumiko Matsukawa, you are sentenced to be transferred to the state facility of San Quentin where at 10 AM you shall be put to death by the infliction of lethal gas under the supervision of both state and federal authorities.”
Fumiko bowed to the judge and then she was led away.
The tall 25-year-old German blonde was then brought before the judge, “Gisele Hidelmann, you have been tried and found guilty of espionage. Do you have anything you want to say before I pass sentence?”
She snapped to attention so quick that her high heels clicked together and then she shot her right arm into the air, “Heil Hitler!”
“Very well, Gisele Hidelmann, you are sentenced to be transferred to the state facility of San Quentin where at 12 PM you shall be put to death by the infliction of lethal gas under the supervision of both state and federal authorities.”
The pretty 23-year-old Italian woman was then brought before the judge. “Isabelle Lombardo, you have been tried and found guilty of espionage. Do you have anything you want to say before I pass sentence?”
She took a deep breath, “Yes Your Honor. I can to this country with the intention of becoming an American. What I did was not of my own free will. I was forced to develop the pictures for the other two women. My family is being held by the SS and if I tell you anything that will expose more of the spy ring my family will be killed. It is for this reason I must remain silent even if it cost me my life.”
“Very well, Isabelle Lombardo, you are sentenced to be transferred to the state facility of San Quentin where at 2 PM you shall be put to death by the infliction of lethal gas under the supervision of both state and federal authorities.”
One of the FBI agents leaned forward and quietly asked the prosecutor, “What’s with the two-hour intervals? San Quentin’s gas chamber has two chairs in it. They can do two and the other won’t have to wait so long.”
“That’s part of our plan,” the prosecutor whispered back. “We’re hoping Miss Lombardo will tell us more so we’re keeping her for last.”
“If she does will Roosevelt spare her?”
“No, she’ll die anyway. Hoover wants them all gone so no knowledge of this operation will be made public. If she tells us anything, we have to keep it secret. If she’s spared the Axis will know she’s talking and that will give them time enough to alter their operations. It’s all been cleared with San Quentin, we’re picking up all the cost.”
Spy Ring part 3
At 9:00 AM, a plain black federal car arrived at San Quentin with Fumiko Matsukawa seated in the back seat between two female guards. Wearing a gray skirt with matching jacket and peep toe pumps, she was taken from the car and walked into the prison. On her way to the pre-execution cell she glanced at the green gas chamber that was just to her left. A door to her right was opened and she was led down a small hallway to the cell.
The priest sat down beside her, “I’m not of your faith, but is there anything I can do for you my child?”
“No,” Fumiko answered, “but thank you for your kindness. I have dishonored my Emperor and now I must die for him. Had I not been captured I would have killed myself for the dishonor I brought upon my Emperor.”
At 9:45 AM, a doctor, a nurse and a female matron entered the cell. “Take off all of your cloths,” the doctor ordered.
Fumiko bowed and then removed her shoes, jacket and then her blouse and skirt, followed by her stocking and underwear, all of which she folded neatly and handed to the matron. “Please give these to my cousin, she is being held in one of your camps.”
The doctor stepped forward and fastened the harness for the stethoscope to Fumiko and then the nurse handed her a simple button up dress which she put on. She looked just outside the cell as two guards unrolled the long rugs for her to walk on.
Two guard appeared at the cell door and motioned for her to step out. As Fumiko exited the cell the guards turned her to her right and led her down the short hallway and through a door. As she stepped through the door, she saw the gas chamber with its big steel door open and the two chairs with the one on the left having its straps opened as it waited to receive her. Quietly she started singing a Japanese song as she stepped into the chamber and was seated in the chair.
The guards had to take the straps up tighter than usual to accommodate Fumiko’s small, delicate body. As the guards left the chamber Fumiko looked upwards as the straps held her in place with her tiny bare feet hanging several inches above the floor of the chamber.
She heard the sound of the acid/water solution drain into the mixing vat and then a metallic cling as the cyanide pellets fixed below both chairs were dropped into the acid. Still, she continued to softly sing. A faint cloud of cyanide gas rose from below the chair, still she continued to look up and sing.
Suddenly, Fumiko’s head shot backwards, and her toes arched down as she gasp and took in a heavy breath of cyanide. Then, her head fell forward and her small petite body became limp. Her heart slowed until it finally stopped beating.
The chamber was vented, and the process started the two hour count down to remove Fumiko’s body started as the next woman was about to arrive at SQ.
At 11 AM, a car carrying Gisele Hidelmann arrived at San Quentin. With her head high, her blonde hair neatly done upon her head, and dressed in a dark blue dress and black pumps she walked unassisted to the holding cell. As they passed the gas chamber she looked at it, “So, that’s it,” she said in her German accent. As they turned her to her right she caught a glimpse of Fumiko’s body through one of the windows of the chamber as the exhaust fan continued to run.
As she entered the cell she could hear the chamber’s door open before she door to the cell block was shut. “Is that supposed to scare me into talking?” She asked. “If it is, it will do no good. I will proudly die for my Furher.”
Forty-five minutes later the chamber was ready and the doctor, the nurse and the matron returned to the cell. “Take off your clothes,” they ordered the tall blonde.
“Here,” Gisele said as she disrobed and handed them her clothing. “Turn these over to the Swedish embassy so they will go to my mother in Berlin, she will be proud of me. She raised a good, courageous daughter who died for the Further and the Fatherland.”
The doctor quickly attached the stethoscope harness and the nurse handed Gisele a prison dress. She looked down at the rug as she took her first steps out of the cell. “You American’s are too thoughtful, too kind to those you kill. That shows your weakness.” With her blue eyes looking forward she walked to the chamber where guards waited for her and seated her in the same chair Fumiko occupied a short time ago.
She looked straight ahead as the door was shut and then as the pellets were dropped, she shouted, “Heil Hitler!” Defiantly she did not breath as the vapors from the gas rose from beneath her chair as she continued to hold her head high.
Suddenly, Gisele gasped and thrust her head backward. She jerked her head back and forth several times and she grasp the arms of the chair and pulled her long toes tightly together, as she pressed the soles of her bare feet tight against the floor of the chamber. She looked up as saliva began to foam from her mouth. Further backward her head went and then suddenly her head fell forward, bouncing as her chin cam to rest on her breast. She continued to drool on the front of her dress as the minutes ticked by for another 12 minutes until her heart stopped.
At 1 PM another federal car pulled up to the prison, this time carrying Isabelle Lombardo. In her black and white dress and strappy open toe heels she walked in the center of those escorting her. Her shoulder length, wavy, shiny black hair shined as she entered death row. As with her two co-defendants, she walked past the gas chamber. The humming of the exhaust fan as well as the activity of the guard alerted her as she caught a glimpse of Gisele’s body still strapped inside the sealed chamber. She was then placed in the cell where she sat on the cot and prayed.
As she sat on the cot a priest sat down beside her. “Do you have anything you would like to confess?” He asked.
“Father, they have been saying that I may be spared if I give them information. I do know somethings, but if I even tell the slightest details the Gestapo will kill my family.” She leaned close to the priest, “Is it a sin to die to save someone else? If I give my life to save my family, is that suicide?”
“No, my child, they would not be.”
“Then I will go quietly to my execution. How do I know if the Nazis don’t have spies in this prison or even in the courts? I can’t take that chance. I just want my family to be safe.”
At 1:45 PM the same doctor, nurse and matron entered the cell for the third time that day. The nurse patted Isabelle on her shoulder, “Take off your clothes.”
As Isabelle undressed, she neatly folded her clothes and handed them to the matron. “Please make sure these are sent to my aunt in New York, she will make sure my mother will get them after the war.
The doctor stepped forward and strapped the stethoscope to Isabelle’s heart and then she was handed a new prison dress, which she neatly put on her slender body. Her beautiful brown eyes looked at them, “I’m ready.”
A guard nodded to her and motioned for her to step out of the cell. Her slender size 7 feet gently stepped onto the carpet. Calmly she turned to her right and walked with guards at her sides to the gas chamber. Gently, she composed herself in the chair that recently held her co-defendants. Isabelle looked up and closed her eyes as the guards placed straps across her body. She continued to look up and pray as the stethoscope was connected and the guards left the chamber. She lowered her head and opened her eyes as she heard the dull sound of the door being shut and sealed.
She opened her eyes wide as she heard the clunk as the cyanide was dropped into the acid. Isabelle saw a wisp of smoke rise between her bare feet. Her lips moved silently as she counted to ten and then took a deep breath. She took another deep breath and then a third. Her head rolled backward as her eyes closed and her mouth opened. She rolled her head slightly to her right and the it fell forward. Her shoulder slumped and her body leaned against the straps. Her heart slowly stopped beating and the case of the spy ring came to a close.
All three women were buried in a local cemetery and would remain there until after the war before their bodies would be sent home.
However, the following morning the headline read, ‘Girl Spy Ring Ends in Gas Chamber.’
“Do we pick her up now?” one of the two FBI agents asked his partner as they watched the small, pretty, Japanese American woman take pictures of the ship in Los Angeles harbor in the Spring of 1942.
“Not yet,” the other agent replied. “We need to see where she goes. I want to find her contacts. She’s not working on her own, I want the bigger fish.”
The two agents watched as the woman quickly folded her Ansco camera and slipped it into her purse. Quietly, she walked away from the pier after taking pictures of one of the ships that had survived Pearl Harbor sitting in drydock, awaiting repair as well as two heavy cruisers that were taking on supplies. Casually, she strolled down the sidewalk and mingled in the crowd. As she passed by many people gave her stern looks due to her Japanese ancestry. The agents continued to watch as she turned a corner and entered an alley where she knocked on a door of a secluded building.
“Let’s just see who come to the door,” the first agent said as they watched and waited.
“This is an Italian neighborhood,” the other agent said.
“Yeah, but we believe this one is just the go between. “We have another one to locate and that’s the one I want.”
Slowly the door opened and a young woman of Italian descent stuck her head out the door and looked around before she let the Japanese-American woman in. Less than one full minute later she left the house without her camera.
“Do we follow her?” the second agent asked.
“No, we know who she is and where’s she’s going. She’s going to have a surprise when she gets home. Our people are already waiting on her.”
“What about the Italian girl?”
“Right now she’s starting to develop the pictures, let her do it. Then she will pass them on to another agent who is the kingpin in this spy ring. This operation has been the most effective one that the Axis has ever operated here on the West Coast.”
“So, for now we wait.”
“Yep and we’ll nab the Japanese girl right after the Italian girl makes contact with her boss.”
For two hours the agent waited and then a blonde haired women driving a 1941 Buick Roadmaster coupe pulled into the alley. She got out of the car and knocked on the same door the Japanese woman had knock on earlier.
“There’s the kingpin,” the first agent said.
“Damn, she’s a looking,” the second agent commented.
“Yeah, but she’s German, a German Nazi may I add. I want her in the gas chamber more than I do the other two.” He looked into the rearview mirror as a car pulled up behind him and flashed its lights. “There’s our relief. We’ll follow the German woman and they will wait for us to nab her and then they’ll get the Italian girl. The German gal will have the prints, but she should still have the negatives.”
“She’s coming out.”
“Good,” he said as he started the Flathead Ford. “I know where she’s going.” He eased out on the clutch and followed the Buick through the city and into a suburb. He eased the Ford up to the curb as the woman started to enter a house. “Let’s move.”
The two agents walked up behind the woman as she opened the door. She turned as she heard them approach. “How may I help you?” She asked.
“You can help us by giving us the pictures you just picked up Miss Hydel, or should I say Miss Hidelmann,” the first agent said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, please leave or I will call the police!”
He pulled his badge from his pocket, “Go ahead, we’re FBI.”
She jumped through the now open door and tried to shut it but the agents forced their way in. She reached into her purse and pulled out a Walther PPK, but the second agent soon got into a wrestling match with her. They fell to the floor as they fought over the gun.
“Take her alive!” The first agent said as he tried to pry her mouth open to make sure she didn’t have a cyanide capsule to bite down on.
“This dame is a fighter,” the second agent said as he managed to get the gun from her hand.
The first agent reached into her purse and retrieved the pictures as well as a cyanide capsule. “You forgot to take your medicine this morning, too bad. I will keep it for you.”
“You swine!” She screamed, but this time with a German accent.
‘We got her,” the other agent said. “Let’s get her to the jail and we’ll tear this place apart and see what she has here.”
As the first two agents waited for more men from the FBI to arrive two more agents eased the door that led to the alley open and quietly entered the building where the Italian woman had just finished developing another roll of film that had been delivered by the same Japanese woman. As she entered the adjoining room, she saw the two FBI agents. She stopped and looked at them and then said, “I know why you’re here. I will go quietly.”
“Take her,” one of the agents said. “I’m going to search his place. There’s probably a lot of negatives hidden nearby.
“They’re all in the cabinet inside the darkroom,” the woman said.
“Get her out of here,” he said to his partner.
The Japanese woman had just made it to her apartment. As she entered and turned on the lights she was face to face with two more FBI agents. She looked at both men as one of them took her by the arm. “I have disgraced my Emperor.”
“Come along,” one agent said. “You can disgrace you Emperor more when we put you in the gas chamber.”
The newspaper headlines flashed across the nation as well as the news reals in the theaters, ‘Lady Spy Ring Broken up on West coast. All three Axis women on trial for their lives’
Spy Ring part 2
The three women were kept in separate jails in the Los Angeles area while federal agents searched their homes and prosecutors prepared to try the cases that would send the three young women to the gas chamber at San Quentin.
“What’s the word out of Washington?” One of the FBI agents asked.
“The Justice Department as well as your boss and the president want to make examples in this case,” the prosecutor answered. “However, the Italian girl is the weakest link in the spy chain. We’re hoping she talks before we go to trial.”
“What if she talks? Will you go easier on her?”
The prosecutor shook his head, “My boss and your boss says no. However, she will be the last one in the chamber. We’ll give her time to decide if she has anything to say that might be useful.”
“So, the other two go first. It’s like you already have the trial over before it starts.”
“They’re spies, what do you expect. We’ll try them together, but we’ll execute them separately.”
“The chamber at San Quentin has two chairs, you can get the German and Japanese women at the same time.”
“Washington doesn’t want it that way. Maybe one will open up and rat others who are floating around the west coast out. If we do two together they may clam up.”
“Ok, when doe the trial start?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Their lawyers haven’t had time to prepare a defense.”
“The federal docket has been cleared just for them. We’ll try them together and then set three different execution dates. The trail shouldn’t last a day.”
The trail started a week later. All three women sat silently as the evidence against them was presented to the federal jury. Picture recovered from their residences, radios that were capable of reaching Berlin and Tokyo as well as code books. The jury deliberated less than an hour and returned a verdict. GUILTY was the headlines in the papers and the newsreels.
The first lady spy was brought to stand before the judge. “Fumiko Matsukawa, you have been found guilty of espionage, do you have anything you would like to say before I pass sentence?”
The small 24-year-old Japanese woman bowed and said, “I gladly die for my Emperor.”
“Very well, the Judge replied. “Fumiko Matsukawa, you are sentenced to be transferred to the state facility of San Quentin where at 10 AM you shall be put to death by the infliction of lethal gas under the supervision of both state and federal authorities.”
Fumiko bowed to the judge and then she was led away.
The tall 25-year-old German blonde was then brought before the judge, “Gisele Hidelmann, you have been tried and found guilty of espionage. Do you have anything you want to say before I pass sentence?”
She snapped to attention so quick that her high heels clicked together and then she shot her right arm into the air, “Heil Hitler!”
“Very well, Gisele Hidelmann, you are sentenced to be transferred to the state facility of San Quentin where at 12 PM you shall be put to death by the infliction of lethal gas under the supervision of both state and federal authorities.”
The pretty 23-year-old Italian woman was then brought before the judge. “Isabelle Lombardo, you have been tried and found guilty of espionage. Do you have anything you want to say before I pass sentence?”
She took a deep breath, “Yes Your Honor. I can to this country with the intention of becoming an American. What I did was not of my own free will. I was forced to develop the pictures for the other two women. My family is being held by the SS and if I tell you anything that will expose more of the spy ring my family will be killed. It is for this reason I must remain silent even if it cost me my life.”
“Very well, Isabelle Lombardo, you are sentenced to be transferred to the state facility of San Quentin where at 2 PM you shall be put to death by the infliction of lethal gas under the supervision of both state and federal authorities.”
One of the FBI agents leaned forward and quietly asked the prosecutor, “What’s with the two-hour intervals? San Quentin’s gas chamber has two chairs in it. They can do two and the other won’t have to wait so long.”
“That’s part of our plan,” the prosecutor whispered back. “We’re hoping Miss Lombardo will tell us more so we’re keeping her for last.”
“If she does will Roosevelt spare her?”
“No, she’ll die anyway. Hoover wants them all gone so no knowledge of this operation will be made public. If she tells us anything, we have to keep it secret. If she’s spared the Axis will know she’s talking and that will give them time enough to alter their operations. It’s all been cleared with San Quentin, we’re picking up all the cost.”
Spy Ring part 3
At 9:00 AM, a plain black federal car arrived at San Quentin with Fumiko Matsukawa seated in the back seat between two female guards. Wearing a gray skirt with matching jacket and peep toe pumps, she was taken from the car and walked into the prison. On her way to the pre-execution cell she glanced at the green gas chamber that was just to her left. A door to her right was opened and she was led down a small hallway to the cell.
The priest sat down beside her, “I’m not of your faith, but is there anything I can do for you my child?”
“No,” Fumiko answered, “but thank you for your kindness. I have dishonored my Emperor and now I must die for him. Had I not been captured I would have killed myself for the dishonor I brought upon my Emperor.”
At 9:45 AM, a doctor, a nurse and a female matron entered the cell. “Take off all of your cloths,” the doctor ordered.
Fumiko bowed and then removed her shoes, jacket and then her blouse and skirt, followed by her stocking and underwear, all of which she folded neatly and handed to the matron. “Please give these to my cousin, she is being held in one of your camps.”
The doctor stepped forward and fastened the harness for the stethoscope to Fumiko and then the nurse handed her a simple button up dress which she put on. She looked just outside the cell as two guards unrolled the long rugs for her to walk on.
Two guard appeared at the cell door and motioned for her to step out. As Fumiko exited the cell the guards turned her to her right and led her down the short hallway and through a door. As she stepped through the door, she saw the gas chamber with its big steel door open and the two chairs with the one on the left having its straps opened as it waited to receive her. Quietly she started singing a Japanese song as she stepped into the chamber and was seated in the chair.
The guards had to take the straps up tighter than usual to accommodate Fumiko’s small, delicate body. As the guards left the chamber Fumiko looked upwards as the straps held her in place with her tiny bare feet hanging several inches above the floor of the chamber.
She heard the sound of the acid/water solution drain into the mixing vat and then a metallic cling as the cyanide pellets fixed below both chairs were dropped into the acid. Still, she continued to softly sing. A faint cloud of cyanide gas rose from below the chair, still she continued to look up and sing.
Suddenly, Fumiko’s head shot backwards, and her toes arched down as she gasp and took in a heavy breath of cyanide. Then, her head fell forward and her small petite body became limp. Her heart slowed until it finally stopped beating.
The chamber was vented, and the process started the two hour count down to remove Fumiko’s body started as the next woman was about to arrive at SQ.
At 11 AM, a car carrying Gisele Hidelmann arrived at San Quentin. With her head high, her blonde hair neatly done upon her head, and dressed in a dark blue dress and black pumps she walked unassisted to the holding cell. As they passed the gas chamber she looked at it, “So, that’s it,” she said in her German accent. As they turned her to her right she caught a glimpse of Fumiko’s body through one of the windows of the chamber as the exhaust fan continued to run.
As she entered the cell she could hear the chamber’s door open before she door to the cell block was shut. “Is that supposed to scare me into talking?” She asked. “If it is, it will do no good. I will proudly die for my Furher.”
Forty-five minutes later the chamber was ready and the doctor, the nurse and the matron returned to the cell. “Take off your clothes,” they ordered the tall blonde.
“Here,” Gisele said as she disrobed and handed them her clothing. “Turn these over to the Swedish embassy so they will go to my mother in Berlin, she will be proud of me. She raised a good, courageous daughter who died for the Further and the Fatherland.”
The doctor quickly attached the stethoscope harness and the nurse handed Gisele a prison dress. She looked down at the rug as she took her first steps out of the cell. “You American’s are too thoughtful, too kind to those you kill. That shows your weakness.” With her blue eyes looking forward she walked to the chamber where guards waited for her and seated her in the same chair Fumiko occupied a short time ago.
She looked straight ahead as the door was shut and then as the pellets were dropped, she shouted, “Heil Hitler!” Defiantly she did not breath as the vapors from the gas rose from beneath her chair as she continued to hold her head high.
Suddenly, Gisele gasped and thrust her head backward. She jerked her head back and forth several times and she grasp the arms of the chair and pulled her long toes tightly together, as she pressed the soles of her bare feet tight against the floor of the chamber. She looked up as saliva began to foam from her mouth. Further backward her head went and then suddenly her head fell forward, bouncing as her chin cam to rest on her breast. She continued to drool on the front of her dress as the minutes ticked by for another 12 minutes until her heart stopped.
At 1 PM another federal car pulled up to the prison, this time carrying Isabelle Lombardo. In her black and white dress and strappy open toe heels she walked in the center of those escorting her. Her shoulder length, wavy, shiny black hair shined as she entered death row. As with her two co-defendants, she walked past the gas chamber. The humming of the exhaust fan as well as the activity of the guard alerted her as she caught a glimpse of Gisele’s body still strapped inside the sealed chamber. She was then placed in the cell where she sat on the cot and prayed.
As she sat on the cot a priest sat down beside her. “Do you have anything you would like to confess?” He asked.
“Father, they have been saying that I may be spared if I give them information. I do know somethings, but if I even tell the slightest details the Gestapo will kill my family.” She leaned close to the priest, “Is it a sin to die to save someone else? If I give my life to save my family, is that suicide?”
“No, my child, they would not be.”
“Then I will go quietly to my execution. How do I know if the Nazis don’t have spies in this prison or even in the courts? I can’t take that chance. I just want my family to be safe.”
At 1:45 PM the same doctor, nurse and matron entered the cell for the third time that day. The nurse patted Isabelle on her shoulder, “Take off your clothes.”
As Isabelle undressed, she neatly folded her clothes and handed them to the matron. “Please make sure these are sent to my aunt in New York, she will make sure my mother will get them after the war.
The doctor stepped forward and strapped the stethoscope to Isabelle’s heart and then she was handed a new prison dress, which she neatly put on her slender body. Her beautiful brown eyes looked at them, “I’m ready.”
A guard nodded to her and motioned for her to step out of the cell. Her slender size 7 feet gently stepped onto the carpet. Calmly she turned to her right and walked with guards at her sides to the gas chamber. Gently, she composed herself in the chair that recently held her co-defendants. Isabelle looked up and closed her eyes as the guards placed straps across her body. She continued to look up and pray as the stethoscope was connected and the guards left the chamber. She lowered her head and opened her eyes as she heard the dull sound of the door being shut and sealed.
She opened her eyes wide as she heard the clunk as the cyanide was dropped into the acid. Isabelle saw a wisp of smoke rise between her bare feet. Her lips moved silently as she counted to ten and then took a deep breath. She took another deep breath and then a third. Her head rolled backward as her eyes closed and her mouth opened. She rolled her head slightly to her right and the it fell forward. Her shoulder slumped and her body leaned against the straps. Her heart slowly stopped beating and the case of the spy ring came to a close.
All three women were buried in a local cemetery and would remain there until after the war before their bodies would be sent home.
However, the following morning the headline read, ‘Girl Spy Ring Ends in Gas Chamber.’
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