*
The fair-haired lieutenant who acted as Colonel Austin Roberts’ aide did not bother to salute as he hurried into Roberts’ office.
‘I think we’ve got trouble, sir,’ he said without preamble.
Roberts groaned and leaned back from his desk to stare at the young officer.
‘Ever since this damned war began I’ve been in a permanent state of trouble, my boy. What is it now?’
‘We have a Soviet agent among us.’
Roberts’ head jerked in surprise. ‘Tell me more,’ he invited after a hesitation.
‘This morning, sir, signals picked up a message. Or rather, they reported one. It was actually picked up last night and somehow no one bothered to send details on to us until … ’
‘Just give me the basic facts,’ Roberts snapped.
‘Well, this message was sent at 14.30 hours yesterday. It was sent in Morse. The signals interceptor realized that its origin was close to us, judging by the strength of the signal. He also judged the operator to be trained because of the signal’s speed and rhythm. The message went out in groups of seven letters and in code. There was a pause, and then the message was answered. Our listening posts managed to get a triangulation on the origin of both transmissions. The original broadcast was from right here, in intelligence headquarters. The second was from Moscow.’
Roberts let loose a long whistle of astonishment. ‘Do you think it can be an unauthorized transmitter?’
‘Most likely, sir. I’ve already made a check on the use of our standard transmitters yesterday. We should start a search,’
‘It must have been something pretty urgent for a Soviet agent to start broadcasting to Moscow directly from here,’ mused Roberts.
The lieutenant nodded slowly. ‘Exactly what occurred to me, sir. This Project Wotan could stir their interests.’
Roberts made an assertive grimace. ‘I can’t think of anything else important enough to make an agent blow his cover by transmitting directly from here like that. He would know that our listening posts would pinpoint his broadcast immediately.’
‘Knowing that, sir, he might have already fled the coop.’
‘What do you mean?’ Roberts asked.
‘The Soviet agent must be well placed to be here at Intelligence HQ. Could he be so well placed that he is actually accompanying our Project Wotan group?’
Roberts stared at his aide in shock.
‘You mean he could be Bradley or Wickham?’
The adjutant shrugged. ‘Or even Doctor Kendall, sir.’
‘Impossible!’ Roberts replied, but his voice was no more than a whisper. He shook his head and said ‘Impossible!’ again. Then he stood up slowly and said quietly, ‘I want that transmission to Moscow, and the reply, decoded as soon as possible. And I want that pirate transmitter found.’
The lieutenant nodded. ‘But if the Soviet is one of the Wotan team, sir … ’
Roberts gestured impatiently. ‘Then it is out of our hands. They’re on their own now. And whatever the Soviet agent has in mind, let’s hope our men will be able to deal with him if, or when, he shows his hand. That is, if your hypothesis is right and he has managed to infiltrate that far.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The lieutenant went to the door and opened it. He hesitated on the threshold. ‘I’d just love to know what kind of hand he’s playing, sir.’ He closed the door behind him, leaving Roberts staring at it thoughtfully.
‘So would I, laddie,’ he growled. ‘So would I.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
On the morning of Tuesday, 27 February 1945, some 6,000 Allied aircraft waited at their bases in eastern England to begin the strategic bombing of the rail links between the industrial Ruhr Valley and the rest of Germany. The Allies’ intention was to concentrate their efforts on certain German cities.
Berlin was already reeling from one of the most devastating raids of the war, which had begun on the preceding Sunday evening and continued with daylight bombing throughout Monday. The severity and intensity of the Allied raids were increasing as the death throes of Hitler’s Reich became more apparent. Only a few days earlier, Marshal of the Royal Air Force Sir Arthur T. Harris, commander of the Allied Strategic Air Force in Europe, had sanctioned saturation bombing on 127 designated German cities and towns. These had been singled out for a total of 194 daylight and 94 night raids. And from 18 February, Harris had ordered the daily bombing of Berlin.
The new phase of Allied saturation bombing had commenced at Nuremberg on 2 January but the intent had not become apparent until 13 and 14 February when 1,350 Allied aircraft, with 900 fighter escorts, descended on the city of Dresden. Within a few hours 200,000 citizens were dead and there were not enough able-bodied men left to attempt to bury the corpses.
Even Winston Churchill was appalled at the destruction and on the following day had summoned his Chiefs of Staff. ‘It seems to me that the moment has come when the question of bombing German cities for the sake of increasing the terror should be reviewed … he began.
The Chief of Staff of the RAF, Air Marshal Portal, objected angrily to the Prime Minister’s assumption and denied that the bombing strategy was simply one of creating terror among civilians. ‘By our bombing,’ he said, ‘we force the Third Reich to keep millions of able-bodied men at home, serving in the Air Raid Precautions, in the building of shelters, in clearing away rubble, in repairing roads, in toolshops producing new machines for bombed-out factories. In all these places the Germans have to employ men badly needed at the front. Bomber Command is making a decisive contribution to the Allied victory.’
Harris himself said he was using his bombers as an army general would use his artillery, smoothing the way for the ground forces by softening up targets.
Churchill withdrew his objections and the strategic bombing was ordered to continue.
At 07.30 hours on 27 February the 6,000 aircraft took off, mainly from bases in East Anglia, and began to head for the northern end of the Ruhr Valley.
*
In the town of Xanten that morning, Obersturmführer Artur Langbehn of Amt IV of the Reich Security Office, the Geheime Staats Polizei, entered the tall red-brick building which served as Gestapo Headquarters at 8.30 a.m. It had been a busy night and even the enthusiastic and efficient young Gestapo officer was tired. He had spent most of the night rounding up a group of senior Wehrmacht officers whose enthusiasm for the war effort had been brought into question and escorting them to a secluded part of the Reichswald. The truck was stopped and the officers were asked to step down to relieve themselves. Everyone knew what was to happen; some of the officers started to run as soon as they had climbed out. Obersturmführer Langbehn had received the Kugel Erlass, or Bullet Decree, directly from Heinrich Himmler’s office in Berlin.
Langbehn was one of those peculiar people who actually enjoyed his job. He was the son of a Westphalian farm labourer who had grown up in poverty, without education or the promise of betterment in life. The only certainty in the disordered world of his youth was the endless queues of jobless and hungry people. Then Langbehn had joined the SS and risen from simple SS-man to Rottenführer by a willingness to carry out orders no matter what. Where education was lacking, his enthusiasm served. Then he had transferred to the Gestapo. He worked industriously, he obeyed orders without hesitation, and thus he had reached his present exalted rank. It was no mean achievement for a poorly educated farm boy. And just as a farm labourer feels no emotion when sent out to clear the fields of weeds and vermin, so Artur Langbehn felt no emotion when sent out to clear the Führer’s Reich of those designated as human weeds and vermin. As a farmer would not inquire into the emotions or feelings of those cows he selected for slaughter or breeding, so it would not have occurred to Langbehn to inquire into the feelings of those labelled ‘racially inferior’ or disloyal to the Führer.
Standartenführer Koeller, head of Langbehn’s section at Xanten, greeted him with a tired smile.
‘Up all night, Langbehn?’
His superior grimaced. ‘Well, before you do so, there is something which needs dealing with.’
Langbehn became aware of a plump man seated in the corner of the room who wore a garish Nazi Party uniform with numerous Party decorations. For a moment Langbehn thought it was Reichsmarshal Göring himself, so close a resemblance did the grotesque little man bear to the commander of the Luftwaffe. Seated next to the man was a rather elegantly dressed young woman who seemed bored with her surroundings. They both exuded wealth and power, so Langbehn straightened to attention and clicked his heels politely.
‘This is Herr Schoerner from Münster and Fräulein … Fräulein Meek,’ Koeller said. ‘You are to take a squad of men and act as instructed by Herr Schoerner.’
Langbehn frowned. Was Schoerner a Gestapo official? He was obviously some big-wig Party chief.
Schoerner was levering himself up from his chair. A smile distorted his mouth.
‘We suspect that some Widerstand traitors have gone to ground in this region.’
Langbehn smiled grimly. This sounded like his sort of job. ‘At your command, Herr Schoerner.’
‘Good. Get your men together — half a dozen will do — and we will go and flush them out, eh?’
*
Of the 6,000 aircraft which had taken off from East Anglia at 07.30 hours, forty-two were Bl7Fs or ‘Flying Fortresses’ belonging to the American 100th Bomb Group and were escorted by a small formation of P47 fighters. The Bomb Group’s orders had been to rendezvous over Felixstowe and fly due east to Haltern, where they were to make a corrective turn north-east for Münster. If there were any problems over Münster, section leaders were ordered to select a ‘target of opportunity’.
Of the forty-two aircraft of the 100th Bomb Group, a ‘box’ of three planes were having problems. They had become separated from their Group in thick clouds and then found malfunctions in their navigational instruments.
Section leader Captain Brad Sterling had tried to guide his men to a selected secondary target, a place called Enschede. However, section navigator Arnie Goldman pointed out that they had by-passed Enschede and seemed to be flying south along the Rhine. Having determined that this was indeed their position, Sterling decided to break off the attack and head due west. However, just then Goldman informed him that a small town lay below along whose roads a lot of German armour seemed to be passing.
Sterling made some rapid calculations. He could not identify the town, but he knew that it was fairly close to the British and Canadian front. The Germans were obviously rushing up armour to prevent an Allied break across the Rhine. Sterling ordered the other two aircraft to follow him in unloading their bomb cargoes along the roadways through the town.
*
Langbehn was in the process of replying to Victor Schoerner, deputy Gauleiter of Münster, when the first bombs began to pepper the outskirts of Xanten.
Neither he, nor Standartenführer Koeller, nor Schoerner, nor Ilse Meek had any warning of the two bombs that fell directly onto Xanten Gestapo Headquarters at 8.37 that Tuesday morning. It was later estimated that fifteen Gestapo and SS men in the building were killed and four seriously wounded, and that seven prisoners, including three female prisoners, were also killed.
In Münster, after being absent from his office for three days, Deputy Gauleiter Victor Schoerner was listed as ‘missing believed killed’. No one, apparently, noticed that one of Schoerner’s secretaries, Ilse Meek, was also missing from the city hall. But disappearances at this stage of the war, were not an unusual occurrence.
*
The half-track had been parked deep in the Grunewald about three-quarters of a mile from the perimeter fence of the Project Wotan site. The four infiltrators had reached the area with comparative ease. They had passed through three roadblocks during the last half-hour, giving Freckenhorst as their destination, but had had no trouble. Finally, Wickham had pulled the half-track off the road and proceeded cautiously through the forest until Paul suggested that they were getting a little too close to take the vehicle further. It was midnight when they moved forward on foot, to reconnoitre the perimeter of the project site. The actual method of entry was to be left to Bradley and Wickham. It took them an hour to explore the fence and then return.
‘The plan has to be simple,’ Wickham said as they returned to the darkness of the forest and sat down to discuss the situation.
‘The place looks pretty impregnable,’ Kendall observed. ‘Like a POW camp.’
‘And there are watch towers every hundred yards,’ Paul pointed out.
Bradley nodded patiently. ‘Barring simply walking through and making a big bluff, there is only one other way in … that’s through the wire.’
‘Too risky, what about the spotlights and watch-towers?’ Kendall said.
‘It’s probably less risky than trying to bluff our way in, especially after last time,’ Paul suggested.
‘We’ll get through the wire, right enough,’ Bradley said, glancing at his watch. ‘It’s 01.40 hours now. We’ll get close to the perimeter and wait until the air-raid siren goes off and they switch off their circuit lighting.’
Paul stared at Bradley in amazement. ‘What makes you so certain that there will be an air raid?’
‘That’s simple, laddie. Münster is not far away to the north. Dortmund is almost an equal distance to the south. We are surrounded by primary targets for Allied bombing. And if there isn’t a raid tonight, it will be the first time in thirty nights.’
There was a silence. Bradley’s logic was unassailable.
‘What’s the plan, old boy?’ demanded Wickham.
‘We’ll keep well clear of the main gate, choose a point directly between two of the watchtowers. When the lights go out, you and I, Wickham, will move in and cut a passage through the outer and inner fences. Kendall and Horder will come through and then we’ll make for this forest area within the site that the doc, here, told us about. How far would you say the trees are from the fence, Horder?’
Paul shrugged. ‘Maybe ten metres.’
‘Right. Our next step would be to get Kendall to the silos. I presume these are guarded?’
Paul nodded. ‘Yes, I believe so.’
‘So. What about laboratories, barracks or living quarters around the silos?’
‘I didn’t see any,’ Paul responded. ‘I would presume that such things would be kept away from the silos just in case of accidents.’
Kendall gave a dry chuckle. ‘If there was an accident with those babies then you’d need to keep your living quarters at least ten miles away.’
‘Well, if so, that makes our task easier. If we can deal with the guards at the silos and leave Kendall and Horder to deal with the bombs, then you and I could head for the medical block and find this von Knilling.’ He glanced at Wickham.
‘Anyone in our way will have to be dealt with silently,’ he added, tapping the SS dagger in the sheath at his side for emphasis.
Paul looked doubtful. ‘I don’t know anything about bombs. What good am I going to be to Doctor Kendall?’
The scientist caught his arm. ‘These are bombs that no one knows very much about. Don’t worry. All I need is a back-up, someone to hold the tools while I work.’
Paul nodded reluctantly. ‘The other thing I can’t understand, Major,’ he said, turning to Bradley, ‘is your wasting time on von Knilling. The old man will be dead by now, or if not, very nearly.’
Bradley looked at him levelly. ‘That’s just it, laddie. If it’s a question of leaving him behind alive or dead, then it must be dead. That’s orders.’
Paul looked startled.
Kendall explained. ‘Von Knilling is responsible for the creation of those super-bombs. Whatever his views now, he made them. If he is alive and can come with us, then SHAEF Supreme Command want to question him. If he is dead, then there is no prob
lem. But if he is alive and refuses to come with us, then he must be eliminated so that he can assemble no further bombs for the Reich.’
Paul saw the simple, deadly logic. After a moment he said: ‘And how do we get out after we have dealt with the bombs and von Knilling?’
‘Same way we got in.’
‘You expect the lights to be off the whole time?’ This time it was Wickham who asked the question.
‘That depends on how long we take,’ Bradley answered blandly. ‘Mostly, it depends on the doctor here,’ he nodded toward Kendall, ‘and how fast he can put the kibosh on those bombs.’
‘We might have to shoot our way out,’ Wickham said.
‘If we do, Kendall, Horder and, if possible, von Knilling, will get out through the wire first while we give covering fire at the towers on either side. Once through the wire we make for the half-track.’
‘It sounds too simple,’ Paul muttered.
‘Simplicity is the soul of good planning. It gives you room for variations if something unexpected comes up,’ replied Bradley. ‘Right. Any questions? If not, let’s get close to the wire and be prepared.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was precisely 2.18 a.m. when a siren began to wail the air-raid warning.
Major Bradley grinned as the lights around the project site winked and then were extinguished.
‘Ready, Wickham?’ he asked, his voice matter-of-fact.
Wickham answered with a curt ‘Yes.’
Paul, with Kendall by his side, watched the other two men move off in the gloom toward the darkened perimeter fencing. They waited tensely, crouching in the shelter of the underbrush, as they kept their eyes focused on the two dark shadows bent at the foot of the barbed wire. Paul was carrying the haversack containing Kendall’s tools. The siren was still issuing its mournful cry when one of the figures — Paul thought it was Bradley — turned and raised an arm in the infantry ‘advance’ signal, pumping it up and down a couple of times.
‘Let’s go!’ hissed Paul to the scientist.
The Doomsday Decree Page 20
