The “ghosts” of Devens are haunting memories of those who lived and died at the former fort, or who are buried at the Fort Devens Cemetery. And while there have been sightings and mysterious activities, we imply no connection to any real ghosts.

In this final installment of a three-part series, local correspondent David Keith continues his conversation with Corporal Jason Grant, a character who claims to be Devens’s oldest resident, in which Grant relates legends rumored to be true.

An epidemic, Nazi POWs, and the haunting of Hale Hall

Keith: Why did so many people die here in 1918?

Grant: Toward the end of WWI, soldiers returning from Europe bring Spanish flu with them; it shows up here in September 1918. Camp Devens, as it’s called then, is built for 35,000 men but holds 45,000.

Keith: A perfect incubator.

An eerie Vicksburg Square (Photos by Lisa Aciukewicz)

Grant: The disease spreads like wildfire, and soldiers start dying after they turn a shade of blue so deep that doctors fear a return of the Black Death. Two weeks later, Devens is losing 100 men per day. An extra-long barracks is converted to a morgue, and when there are no more coffins, the bodies are stacked like cordwood.

Keith: That’s horrible. Did they quarantine the place?

Grant: Not until it was too late. The disease continues spreading from here and becomes the worst epidemic in the history of mankind. Ironically, more American troops die from Spanish flu than in combat during WWI, nearly 800 here at Devens.

Keith: Where are they buried?

Grant: Most are hauled away in special trains and sent home, the rest are at Woodlawn Cemetery in Ayer.

Keith: Why not here?

Grant: Fort Devens Cemetery isn’t built until 1939, just before I arrive, and they only bother relocating bodies from the harbor islands.

Keith: Who else is buried here worth mentioning?

Grant: Have you heard of Friedrich Steinhoff, the German U-boat commander?

Keith: No.

Grant: In 1942, he and his brother Ernst, a rocket scientist, perform the first successful rocket launch from a submarine.

Keith: That’s impressive. Submarine-based rockets are the most effective weapon in the world.

Grant: Hitler doesn’t see it that way and cancels the program. Friedrich starts doing routine patrols in his U-boat and Ernst focuses on the V2 rocket, a weapon that rains terror on London.

Keith: Ernst sounds like a brilliant man; too bad he wasn’t on our side.

Grant: He does come to America after the war to help with our space program, but his brother doesn’t live to see it.

Keith: Why not?

Grant: When the Nazis are defeated in 1945, Steinhoff surrenders his U-boat near Portsmouth, N.H. Under interrogation he refuses to talk, but a large, husky Marine backhands him across the face until he does. Eventually he tells them what they want to know but says nothing about rocket experiments. The next day, he’s sent to the Charles Street jail in Boston.

Keith: To be among common American prisoners?

Grant: Yes, and they’re less than gracious. That night he stomps on his spectacles, slashes his wrist with the broken glass, and bleeds to death en route to Massachusetts General Hospital. He’s buried at Fort Devens Cemetery with full military honors.

Keith: Where is his grave?

Grant: Toward the back, among 21 Germans and two Italians who died at the Nazi POW camp here.

Keith: Steinhoff must have been pretty distraught to commit suicide.

The former home of an Army intelligence school,  Hale Hall stands abandoned.

Grant: Let’s see, he’s in pain from being beaten and is suffering verbal abuse from fellow inmates. His country has lost the war, and he’s concerned that if interrogated again he may admit experimenting with rockets, putting his brother at risk.

Keith: Those are good reasons.

Grant: There’s another soldier here who believes he has reason to take his own life, but sticks around after death anyway.

Keith: You mean as a ghost?

Grant: Yep, in the mid 1940s when the Vicksburg Square buildings are still used as barracks, a soldier hangs himself on the top floor of Hale Hall.

Keith: Why?

Grant: I don’t know, but ever since then he’s known as George the ghost.

Keith: Which is Hale Hall?

Grant: The one on the far right viewed from Rogers Field. Converted to classrooms for the Army Intelligence School in 1951, they lock it down tight every night. But soldiers see lights turning on and off and hear footsteps and slamming doors.

Keith: Sounds spooky.

Grant: The military police refuse to patrol the upper floors alone. And even now, with the building abandoned, people see flashing lights and hear eerie sounds.

Keith: I wonder if George the ghost is responsible for all the sightings and mysterious happenings at Devens.

Grant: People blame everything on him, but he’s not the only spirit here.

Keith: You mean besides the lady in black?

Grant: Oh yes, there are many more.

Keith: How can you be so sure?

Grant: Because we’re kindred spirits. When I said they shipped me here in 1939, I didn’t mean alive.

Keith: But you seem too real to be a ghost.

Grant: I’ve been practicing my appearances for 190 years, ever since Robert Massie’s cronies bricked me into that dungeon on Castle Island.

Keith: Why aren’t you still there?

Grant: In 1905, a work crew finds my chained remains and dumps me in an unmarked grave. After 34 years they move me here, along with that whiny Massie. And even though I’m a better swordsman and outrank him, my tombstone says ‘unknown,’ while his is tallest in the whole cemetery.

Keith: That’s certainly unfair. Gee, where did the time go?

Grant: Not only that, but every Halloween people poke fun at ghosts.

Keith: I just remembered I’m late for an appointment.

Grant: Yes leave, but heed this warning. If you’re trick-or-treating and hear scraping bricks or clanking chains, you’ll know my raised sword is close behind.