The Reichsbank Robbery
Page 27
“This engineering works was originally used for modifying and repairing farm machinery and has since been enlarged with the inclusion of a foundry and some equipment capable of cutting and fitting armour plate. With the help of the Himmler letter and/or your august presence, I am certain we can commandeer what we need.”
He paused for a moment letting his words sink in. Grauwitz motioned for him to continue.
“Although I’m not sure what their inventory is, or what operational state it’s in, I did see several self-propelled guns and a few armoured cars with large calibre weapons. With any luck we should be able to lay our hands on one or two.”
The following day Grauwitz and Schonewille drove to Rosenheim leaving Bremer to see to the needs of their Russian troops and ready them for any immediate departure.
With their fuel stocks low, they first stopped at a fuel depot to arrange for extra quantities but Allied aircraft had been there first and what was left was barely enough to meet their needs. If it had not been for their combined rank and the persuasive quality of the Himmler letter they would not have been able to purloin even that, for the elderly captain in charge of the depot was none too keen to relinquish his remaining stocks, especially since they had been earmarked for General Woehler’s Army Group South. Reluctantly he dispatched a tanker to their Traunstein barracks while they continued up the road to Rosenheim.
The former engineering works had been heavily camouflaged and had therefore escaped detection from the air. The main building was not large, covering about three quarters of a hectare, but the surrounding woods were filled with all manner of damaged military equipment, either awaiting repair or cannibalisation.
Due to the urgency of Germany’s situation, the factory’s engineers and workers were toiling non-stop in three shifts and yet were still unable to meet the demands of the hard-pressed Wehrmacht defenders. The appearance of Grauwitz and Schonewille did not help their situation, but it certainly eased the worries of the two SS officers.
They were escorted around the facility and told what equipment was ready for immediate dispatch and what would become available within the next week. Of the former, there was nothing suitable for their needs: three large self-propelled guns and two Panther tanks. The former were too big, too powerful and too slow, while the latter were too valuable and could cause problems. They chose instead an armoured car and a medium-sized self-propelled gun. Both mounted weapons of sufficient size and hitting power to take on the armoured train and were mobile enough to move quickly.
The armoured car was one of the most potent of its type developed by any combatant during the war. It was a Puma SdKfz 234/2, an eight-wheel, eleven tonne monster mounting a fifty-millimetre cannon. It was well-protected with armour and, despite its weight and size, could gallop along at eighty-four kilometres per hour.
The self-propelled gun was an example of the type of improvisation that had been dreamt up by the Germans. It was known as a Mader II and was the successful marriage of a German light tank hull with one of the most effective anti-tank weapons produced in the war, the Russian 76.2 calibre cannon which, amongst other things, was mounted on the feared T34 tank.
During the early stage of Operation Barbarossa, the German invasion of Russia, the advancing troops captured large quantities of Russian weapons. Among the few they regarded as useful was the 76.2 cannon, which they successfully married to a large number of tracked vehicles. These became known as Panzerjagers, or tank hunters. The Mader was one of these hybrids and saw the Russian weapon mounted atop the hull of an obsolete German Mark II light tank. It was a little crude, with the gunner and loader standing exposed on the rear of the superstructure and there was no moveable turret. Nevertheless, the gun could be traversed thirty degrees left and right while the Christie suspension ensured the chassis was very manoeuvrable and could be quickly re-positioned.
Like the Puma, the Mader weighed in at eleven tonnes and, although not nearly as fleet-footed as the armoured car, was still capable of forty kilometres per hour.
It was agreed the two vehicles would become available no later than the morning of the next day, which was the sixteenth. If the trains left on schedule on that day this would give them little time to prepare but there was no option.
From Rosenheim they journeyed to Munich, which was in the throes of yet another air-raid. While Grauwitz went to the local SS headquarters, Schonewille went to the bank where he learned what he half expected, that the timetable for the dispatch of the special trains had been altered yet again. They were now scheduled to leave Munich at three-hour intervals on the nineteenth or twentieth, probably the latter.
In order to gain the best possible warning of the train’s departure, Schonewille used the Himmler letter to arrange with his Reichsbank contact to ring him at Traunstein the moment they steamed from the Munich rail yards. Not wanting to go to the SS headquarters and use one of their radios while Grauwitz was close by, he decided to use a phone to contact either his brother or father. The bank manager placed his office at his disposal and, much to Schonewille’s surprise, he was able to get through to Norway straight away.
The first question he asked his brother was whether the package had arrived safely. His brother assured him his package was safe and sound, and added for good measure, “You are a lucky dog. That is a very attractive package.”
It was as though a weight had been lifted from Schonewille’s shoulders. He had worried himself sick over the preceding days about the fate of his mistress and the news of her safe arrival made him smile with glee.
He told Peter to stand by to fly to a military airfield that was situated just north of Traunstein. He explained how he had made arrangements with the base’s commander and would use the aerodrome’s radio to contact him when it was time to make the hazardous flight south.
Light of heart, he went to the SS headquarters where a suspicious Grauwitz remarked on his levity.
“Oh, don’t worry Herr Brigadeführer, everything is going to be fine. I have made arrangements for plenty of warning regarding the trains and my brother is ready to fly south the moment he receives my call.”
Grauwitz’s weary look vanished and he smiled, a rare occurrence that transformed his dour exterior.
Once back at Traunstein, Schonewille took Ilya Chuikov to reconnoitre the train track between the town and Ruhpolding.
Chapter Twenty-Three
As the Volkswagen drove through the beautiful southern Bavarian countryside with the Alps facing them, Schonewille wondered how much he could take the Russian into his confidence. In truth, if he was to survive the next few days he would have to make the tough Ukranian sergeant an ally, yet he did not know how he could do so. In the meantime he had to undertake a further reconnaissance of the railway line between Traunstein and Ruhpolding.
He had already picked a spot that he thought would be perfect for any ambush. The single line went through a low curving cutting at the end of which was a small valley. Traversing this valley and crossing the railway line was a dirt road, obviously not much travelled. At either end were dense woods and there was no house or dwelling within five kilometres.
Satisfied that he had found the right place from where to attack the armoured train, he ordered Chuikov to drive north. A few kilometres further up the road they came to a small town called Seigsdorf. Schonewille ordered Chuikov to stop and wait for him at a small inn. He then drove himself out of the town back from whence he had come.
Two kilometres out of the town he stopped the VW beside the road and alighted. He unlocked the boot and opened a long wooden box about two metres long. Inside were several standard issue German stick grenades.
He paused for a moment and looked around. The road was deserted and there was no sound of any approaching vehicle. He had chosen the spot carefully. To the south the road curved quite sharply, one side obscured by a five-metre bank and several thick bushes. On the other side was a deep ditch followed by a gentle slope and half-a-dozen large trees.
All that now remained for the devices to explode was to pull each string, which would pull a roughened steel pin through a sensitive chemical, causing it to ignite. This lit a five-second fuse which in turn fired the detonator that exploded each grenade. The bomb was tied low down on the pole so it was obscured by some tall grass and could not possibly be spotted by even someone walking along the side of the road.
Satisfied, he hurried to the car and drove back towards Segsdorf. However, he continued through for another three kilometres. Stopping once more, he repeated the procedure with two more grenades and then drove back to the inn.
The reasons for Schonewille’s actions were quite simple, he was trying to ensure a measure of protection from Grauwitz and Bremer. He reasoned that when the time came he would have to escape from their command and do so with some of the Reichsbank treasure. He had no definitive plan, yet he now felt he could not afford to wait until he reached the airfield to divest himself of the other two SS officers. He was almost certain that once the train was successfully stopped and the money transferred to the waiting trucks, his usefulness would be over.
His comments to Grauwitz about the general needing him and his brother were only partly correct. There was no real reason why Grauwitz could not have him killed and force his brother to immediately fly the Junkers south-west to Spain and then on to Africa. Or, the SS brigadier general could even have his own pilot on hand at Traunstein.
Schonewille’s suspicions about his fellow conspirators were not based on anything concrete, but rather his own devious logic and inherent suspicions. Several times he had surprised Grauwitz and Bremer deep in conversation, a conversation that stopped abruptly when he entered the room. Another time he had caught Bremer smiling sardonically at him behind his back and when he challenged the SS captain the other had apologised and said it was nothing of any consequence. Schonewille would have to kill Grauwitz before the SS officer had him killed first.
As he sat down at the table where the Russian was sitting, Chuikov looked at him expectantly, yet he did not speak.
Schonewille opened the conversation by asking if he had eaten. When the other shook his head he motioned for a man behind the bar to come and attend to their needs. He then ordered a cold beer, cold meat and fresh bread.
When they were alone once more, Schonewille tried the direct approach. “What would you say, Sergeant, if I told you the war was lost?”
Chuikov jerked his head back in surprise. He narrowed his eyes and stared hard at Schonewille, whose impassive demeanour gave nothing away. Finally he shrugged his shoulders and said in his heavily accented German, “I would say that if you have recognised this fact you are certainly wiser than most of your breed. But, I must ask, why you are telling me?”
Schonewille ignored the question and asked another of his own. “If you also recognise that the war is lost, what have you decided to do? Or perhaps I should ask, where have you decided to go?”
Chuikov gave a wry smile. It was not a pretty sight since his teeth were bad, and it did not lessen the devious look in the man’s small green eyes. He again shrugged before speaking. “Oh, what can I do, Herr Obersturmbannführer? If I am taken by the Red Army, my former comrades will have me instantly shot. If I attempt to desert, your lot will have me shot. So, this leaves the Amis or the British. They might jail me, or they might hand me over to Stalin. At any rate, as you can see, my options are small and limited.”
Schonewille readily agreed with him. The conversation was going better than he expected.
He told the Russian sergeant how he was part of a plot to take some money from the Reichsbank. That if the Russian helped him and guarded his back, he would have the option of obtaining a large sum of money with which to escape to Switzerland and freedom from prosecution, or he could join Schonewille who had devised his own route through which he could flee the Reich.
Chuikov took this revelation without any emotion crossing his craggy features, but he readily agreed and to prove his loyalty said something that confirmed Schonewille’s suspicions. He explained that Bremer had ordered him to keep a close watch on him and to report what the SS lieutenant-colonel did and who he spoke to.
While Schonewille and Chuikov were talking, Peter Wenck was flying to Halden for a final meeting with his father. He found Meunier at the base, having taken a ferry over from Copenhagen the previous day. The diplomat explained how he had managed to reach Copenhagen where he had bribed some friendly officials to allow him entry to Norway. Meunier also revealed the final details of his arrangements with his Spanish and Dominican contacts and with a German agent based in Mexico. The latter was standing by at a border town near El Paso and would cross into America and head north for Arizona the moment the Boeing left Norway.
Meunier had also come up trumps in another way. He had brought with him half-a-dozen passports, all American and all genuine. “Believe me it was quite easy to lay my hands on them, although it cost me a lot of money. In fact all the Swiss francs I possessed,” he said with a smirk. “I hope our little bank job will see me paid back with interest.” He opened a small suitcase and unwrapped another parcel. He gave another self-satisfied smirk. “And this, my friends, is the piece de resistance. I have here all the necessary stamps, entry permits, personal papers, etcetera, etcetera, to make us all genuine, legal American citizens.”
He waved his hands expansively and continued. “Believe me, I could have got more. You have no idea how much stuff like this is lying around in the Foreign Office. You would imagine some of von Ribbentrop’s friends would be busily planning for their own furor, but no. They’re all there doing their jobs like good little Germans.” He smacked his lips in annoyance. “By Christ we are a stupid and pedantic race. Give us an order and we obey it to the letter and right to the end.”
When all the final details had been discussed, Peter Wenck turned to his father and enquired as to the whereabouts of the Jewess.
His father explained that Sophia largely kept to herself and said little about her past. He intended to talk to her again that evening in an effort to find out more about her background and how she had become involved with his son.
Chapter Twenty-Four
24 March 1945
0035 Hours
Peter Wenck was dozing in his office when his adjutant Leo Swabisch knocked and entered without waiting for an answer.
“Peter, it has come,” he said, his voice hoarse and excited. “The call-sign you requested the radio room to watch for has come.”
Wenck had been expecting the call. His conversation with his brother three hours earlier had been full of promise. There had been two false alarms in the past few days and throughout the entire time he and his crew had been on virtual standby. Now at last it was time to move.
He inquired whether there had been any additional message accompanying the call-sign, but Swabisch just shook his head. “Wonderful, so let us go. Get the crew … schnell!”
The captain hesitated. He wanted to speak but was unsure how to broach what was on his mind. Peter was more than his commanding officer; he was a friend and he trusted him implicitly, yet he was beginning to get irritated by Wenck’s refusal to take him into his confidence. This did not only centre on the role of the Junkers and the Boeing stationed at Halden. There was also the question of the female SS officer, Erna Hennel. The woman intrigued him. He had seen Wenck in her company several times and it was patently obvious she was
in love with the Luftwaffe officer, yet his friend appeared reserved and even somewhat reticent in her company. Despite this, Wenck scarcely stayed away and spent most of his free moments in her company.
Another thing annoyed Swabisch. Wenck had ordered him to keep away from her.
“Jesus, Peter, do you think I would steal her from you?” Wenck had refused to be drawn. He just rounded on Swabisch with a black look and told him to do as he was told.
All this left the adjutant totally confused.
“Well come on, Leo, jump to it. What are you waiting for? Get the fucking crew!”
“Peter, for Christ’s sake, can’t you tell me what the hell is going on?”
Wenck tried not to let his irritation show, but Swabisch felt it nevertheless. He shrugged his shoulders and turned away. Feeling guilty, Wenck put his hand on the man’s left shoulder. “Look, Leo. You know the route we need to take. All I can tell you is this. We have to pick up a cargo, a very valuable cargo, plus a man who just so happens to be my brother. When we get back to Norway I promise you will be told everything. So for the moment, just do as you are told. Verstanden?”
Mollified, Swabisch went to rouse the crew while Wenck walked out to where the Junkers was parked, its engines ticking over.
As Peter looked up at the familiar silhouette of the bomber he felt a familiar tightness creep across his chest. It was a portent of battle, the warning sign of nervous tension that set the adrenalin pumping. The strain of the past few weeks had also taken its toll and he knew the flight south to pick up the Reichsbank’s valuables would be no picnic.
Once he took off he was committed to two things, theft and desertion. As a loyal German officer, they were an anathema to everything he had been trained for and believed in, yet, he knew he had no choice. Not only was his father involved, somebody he both admired and loved, but he now understood fully that the regime for which he had fought so resolutely for nearly six years was rotten to the core. His conscience was clear.