A Thousand Suns

by Alex Scarrow

  ‘Listen . . . you’re right. There is no part of this mission that is without risk, from the moment you take off here until the bomb is released over the target, there are a million things that could go wrong.’ Rall paused to ensure the point he was about to make had the impact he wanted. ‘But this represents the last possible chance we have to save our country. This is it. If this fails, or we don’t try, then, gentlemen, the alternative is unthinkable.’ Rall looked pointedly at them all. ‘We try, and maybe we die . . . we do nothing, and we certainly will.’ Rall shrugged. ‘Even after Berlin falls, mark my words, the killing will go on.’

  He let them dwell on that for a few moments.

  It was Schröder who broke the silence eventually. ‘So, Major, tell us about this bomb that will be dropped on New York,’ he asked quietly, his voice lowered almost to a conspiratorial whisper.

  ‘It is a bomb, gentlemen, that is a thousand times more powerful than any bomb dropped in this war so far.’

  Max had heard Rall’s description of it once before, but he sensed perhaps today the Major would go a little further and reveal more of what he surely must know about it.

  ‘I’m no scientist, so I can’t describe in detail how this bomb does what it does. All I do know is that it is a new formula, a new technology that the Americans are only beginning to understand and use. But we have beaten them to it. One bomb, with the explosive potential of one thousand bombs . . . the equivalent of the payloads of fifty of those,’ he said, pointing towards the bomber.

  ‘My God,’ Schröder uttered in response.

  Beyond the hangar’s closed door, Max could hear the muted rumble of a truck rolling across the concrete and the shrill of poorly serviced brakes bringing the vehicle to a standstill. A moment later the door to the hangar rattled open wide enough to admit Leutnant Höstner. The glare of daylight was momentary and disappeared as the doors were slid shut again. Max’s eyes slowly adjusted as he listened to the approaching click of heels. Höstner gently touched the Major’s elbow. Rall turned round to face him and the Leutnant muttered something under his breath. The Major nodded and then turned back to the men to excuse himself.

  ‘There are risks, gentlemen. The airfield, I agree, is a big one. Why don’t you think about this for a while?’

  Major Rall followed Leutnant Höstner to the doors of the hangar.

  Quite the motivational speaker, thought Max.

  Schröder looked towards his men. ‘Well, gentlemen . . . what say we give the Major’s plan a go?’

  Chapter 30

  Arrival

  Rall blinked at the glaring white sky - his eyes had grown accustomed to the dim interior of the hangar. After weeks of rain, the cloud cover had thinned to form a pale white veil across the sky through which the midday sun shone strongly.

  A truck was parked with its rear end towards the sliding doors. Standing beside the tailgate was a slight man, pale, thin and with fine, light-coloured hair that was receding. He wore civilian clothing and stood amidst a group of six SS men - Leibstandarte, Rall noticed, spotting the insignia on their collars.

  Hitler’s very own bodyguards.

  Rall approached the group of men. ‘Dr Hauser, I presume. At last we meet,’ Rall said, reaching out a hand and offering what he hoped looked like a sincere welcoming smile.

  ‘Major Rall, is it?’ Hauser replied.

  ‘Yes.’

  Hauser nodded, glad that he had the right man, and extended his hand to shake the Major’s. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.’

  Both men watched as the truck was driven through the open hangar door, the SS guards walking inside with it. The large sliding door closed hastily afterwards.

  ‘The bomb cradle will need to be built into the plane’s bomb bay tonight. I had been hoping for details on the weight and dimensions beforehand, Doctor,’ said Rall.

  ‘I know. The assembly was only completed last night. A rushed task, our technicians did an excellent job.’

  ‘Indeed, but we’ve had to guess the fuel calculations -’

  ‘Major, the bomb is only small. It is heavy, but far less than any normal bomb. I’m sure your calculations will be fine.’

  Hauser looked around the airfield. ‘Is there somewhere we can talk in private?’

  The Major nodded towards the bunker. ‘My office is down there.’

  He led Hauser into his office and offered him the chair. Hauser sat down.

  ‘Major Rall, you are aware that in recent days there have been many changes in Berlin? You are aware that Albert Speer is no longer overseeing this project?’

  Rall nodded, he had heard indirectly, and only within the last couple of days, that the Armaments Minister had been ‘relieved’ of the duty and assumed Hitler himself was now personally steering things. It had caused him some concern. Speer, he felt, was an intelligent and a rational planner. Rall had spent the last six months reporting directly to him on the setting-up of the operation. There were, however, concerns that had troubled Speer in recent weeks, concerns that the Minister had only mentioned in passing to Rall. Concerns about the design of the bomb itself.

  ‘Yes. I was informed indirectly about Speer. Why did this happen?’

  Hauser took his time answering. ‘The Führer and Speer did not see eye to eye on this project, Major. And so the Führer has decided to take control of it himself.’

  ‘I believe Speer had some concerns about the design of the bomb, Doctor. He did say that there was an element of risk in the bomb’s design.’

  Hauser sat stiffly in his chair. He wondered just how much this Major Rall knew. Speer had asked to look through the Jew’s research notes - perhaps out of curiosity, but there must have been something he’d seen, read and understood that had worried him. The damned Jew Schenkelmann had made plenty of references throughout his research notes to the potential risk of the infinite chain. Hauser had vetted the man’s notes as best he could given the short notice Speer had given him. But it seemed that maybe he hadn’t been thorough enough.

  ‘Major, there is always an element of risk in new technology.’

  Rall nodded. ‘Yes, I understand that. But my question is . . .’ he locked his eyes on Hauser, ‘this risk you mention . . . this risk - is that why Herr Speer abandoned this project?’

  Max stood up, leaving the others to continue studying the map spread out on the floor of the hangar. Stefan was relaying the navigation points to Schröder and the fighter pilots. The other two, Pieter and Hans, were kicking a ball about with a couple of the ground crew in one corner of the hangar. He decided to head outside now that the gathering darkness of late afternoon made it safe to linger beyond the great sliding doors and enjoy a smoke.

  As he walked towards the hangar door he passed by the truck that had recently arrived, guarded by the SS men. Inside, he presumed, must be the weapon, the bomb that Rall had only talked about once or twice since their first meeting. The Major had been surprisingly vague on the weapon itself, while being so specific on all the other details of the operation. It was a ‘new technology’ was all Rall had been prepared to offer up to Max. Perhaps that was all the Major knew. The Major had been refreshingly candid about everything so far. He suspected that if Rall knew any more about the bomb, he would have told them.

  As he approached the truck, the guards warily drew up their guns and watched him carefully as he passed by and headed towards the hangar doors. Max let himself out through a small hatch door and nodded to the guard standing outside.

  He wasn’t in the mood to make small talk and so he wandered a few dozen yards away from the hangar, across the pitted concrete and grass tufts towards the sandbagged roof of another empty and unused bunker. He sat down heavily and watched the sky to the north flicker and listened to the distant rumble of his country being torn apart.

  In about seven or eight hours they would finally be airborne and on their way. It would take at least that long for the engineers to construct an appropriate holding cradle for the weapon. He k
new his boys, Schröder and his pilots would all be keen to count those hours down as quickly as possible.

  It was the waiting that was the killer.

  He pulled out the packet of Russian cigarettes from his breast pocket only to find that it was empty. There weren’t so many left now. Rall had done a great job getting in the supplies he had, but there hadn’t been any more, and the stash of cigarettes, along with the coffee, was all but exhausted. He decided to try his luck and see if he could find any remaining packets that might have been left in the canteen. The next few hours were going to drag, much more so without some smokes.

  ‘As far as I know, his removal from this operation is nothing to do with the weapon, Major,’ Hauser answered testily. ‘You have to understand, things are becoming difficult for the Führer. He has been let down by many of the other ministers. They are betraying him. If I’m honest, I suspect Speer is one of them. He has deserted him, fled Berlin.’

  Major Rall studied Hauser in silence. The man was lying to him. It was apparent in his demeanour, the way he was holding himself, in his voice. The man was an appalling liar.

  ‘Doctor Hauser, since being called in to work on this project, I have struggled to obtain any meaningful information about this weapon from you. It has been difficult to plan, not knowing the weight or size of this weapon. What is more, the answers I have received from you via Speer’s office about the damage potential and blast radius have been vague and inconsistent. So now I hear that Speer has been removed from his role at this late stage, all this fills me with concern.’

  Hauser attempted a consoling smile. ‘And you have done a commendable job, Major, with the limited resources at your disposal.’

  ‘You are evading the point. Speer was concerned about the technology of the weapon, this he made known to me. And now I find he has been replaced at this late hour. I respectfully ask that you be honest with me.’

  Hauser’s smile faded, his patience finally reaching its limit. ‘You were charged with planning a way to deploy the weapon over New York, and my responsibility has been to produce the weapon. It is not your business to know how this weapon works -’

  ‘It is my business to know everything about this operation!’ the Major snapped. ‘In the absence of the Armaments Minister, I am the senior military authority, and that means you will -’

  ‘Ahhh, I wondered when it would come to this,’ replied Hauser quietly. ‘Major, things have changed,’ he continued, producing a piece of paper from inside his coat. ‘Hitler sends you his gratitude for everything you have done thus far. But he has entrusted it to me to ensure that this operation is concluded in a satisfactory manner.’

  He handed the paper to Rall, who studied the brief handwritten order with a growing sense of disbelief and anger.

  ‘As you can see, he has authorised me to act directly on his behalf. On this matter, there is no one with greater authority than myself, other than the Führer, of course. That means, Major, I do not have to explain to you anything at all.’

  The hastily scribbled order and the signature were unmistakable. Hauser was right. With this kind of authority, albeit temporarily assigned, Hauser could have him dragged out and shot on a whim. And, of course, the Doctor had been careful enough to bring with him from the bunker half a dozen soldiers.

  Leibstandarte.

  Knowing Hauser was working on Hitler’s direct orders, they would follow any instructions he gave without hesitation.

  ‘However, Major, I will be candid with you. I think you deserve that. The bomb uses an energy that is new, untested and untapped, an energy that lies all around us. We are in the position to be the first men to use it in war. And, if it isn’t we that use it, then it will be someone else who does. Be sure of that.’

  Hauser stood up and approached the door to the room.

  ‘Of course, there is an element of risk in using this technology, but it is a calculated risk. If we turn our backs on this opportunity now, then we’re all dead men. The Russians will finish us all. And in time, they no doubt will attempt to use this energy on the Americans. That is a certainty.’

  Hauser turned to face him. ‘It will happen, Major. This energy will be discovered and used by someone. Why not let it be us?’

  ‘And how great is the risk?’ asked the Major.

  ‘The risk, Major, is small, but remains a possibility.’

  ‘What exactly is the risk in using this weapon?’ Rall asked again.

  Hauser closed the door gently and spoke in a hushed voice. ‘That the energy we use to destroy New York will destroy us all.’

  In that moment, the cigarettes were forgotten.

  Max could hear now only the murmur of voices from inside Rall’s study. The last words he’d heard before the door had closed had been Rall’s. Max silently left the canteen, walked up the bunker’s central corridor, up the stairs and outside into the dark of night.

  What exactly is the risk of using this weapon? he had heard the Major say. There had been uncertainty in the Major’s voice. And that fact alone troubled Max.

  Chapter 31

  Into the Water

  1 a.m., 29 April 1945, off the coast of France

  Lündstrom stared silently at the pitch-black form of the coastline. It was silhouetted against a faint orange sky. A low cloud base reflected the night-time amber glow of the city of Nantes. Isolated pinpricks of light dotted the dark landmass and suggested the occasional cottage or farmhouse, but he could see no other detail or definition from the shore. This kind of amphibious deployment of troops was dangerous enough in the daytime, let alone doing it at night with no detailed knowledge of the stretch of shore they intended to land on.

  He had no idea what the objectives were for the young captain and his platoon, but whatever the mission, he hoped it was going to be worth the risks they were taking. There was a very real possibility that some of these poor boys might not make it to shore. The sea was lively tonight, with four-foot swells slapping against the side of the sub, and they had no notion of what sort of terrain led down to the sea here.

  They could be trying to row ashore onto a lethal barricade of razor-sharp rocks.

  Koch and his men were intending to paddle towards the French coast in three inflatable dinghies, across half a mile of choppy sea. He had dared not take the U-boat any closer for fear of grounding her. The men were wearing enough clothing and equipment to sink them like rocks if they fell out or, worse, one of the dinghies was punctured.

  He hoped to God this foolish exercise had a point.

  Once more he scanned the black world around him and strained his ears to detect any noise other than the chop of water against the sub’s hull. There was nothing to be seen or heard; it seemed as if they were safe here in the dark, for now.

  Lündstrom called down through the open hatch in the floor of the conning tower. ‘All clear.’

  Seconds later he was relieved to hear a deep, bass throbbing as the diesel motors started up. The ‘all clear’ had made its way aft to the engine room in mere seconds, and already the engines had started turning and were recharging the batteries. One of the first things any rating learned in the Kriegsmarine was that a good sub captain never wastes a single solitary second on the surface.

  ‘Tell Hauptman Koch he and his men can come up now.’

  He heard the order echoing down the ranks inside the sub, and moments later the hatch on the foredeck was pulled open, and several of Koch’s men emerged. They pulled up onto the deck three folded rubber bundles, which they opened out and began to fill with air using foot pumps.

  He shook his head. This little venture had the feeling of a disastrous balls-up waiting to happen. These dinghies were all that could be produced at short notice for the mission. They would be a poor offering as a life raft; they were certainly less than adequate for an amphibious landing. And although he had no doubt that the men were fine soldiers, Lündstrom wondered whether these Alpine troops, trained for combat in arctic and mountainous conditions, wer
e ready for this kind of action.

  He heard boots on the ladder leading up to the conning tower. Koch emerged beside him and gleefully sucked in a lungful of the chilly, salty air.

  ‘I imagine that tastes pretty good after the last few days below, eh?’ said Lündstrom.

  The young man nodded. ‘Very good. I don’t know how you and your men can stand to live in such conditions.’

  ‘Yes, of course, you must be used to the great outdoors, not the inside of a sardine can.’

  Koch stretched his arms in front of him, enjoying the space. ‘It’ll be good to get on with this, least of all so we can stretch our legs.’

  Koch had been careful not to reveal a single detail of the mission he and his men were to carry out. Lündstrom guessed that the young man’s orders had specified that the nature of their undertaking ashore remain classified. Nonetheless, knowing the war was entering its final days, he felt the imprudence of asking him was forgivable.

  ‘Can I ask what it is you and your men are up to?’

  Koch tightened his lips and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not permitted to reveal the content -’

  ‘- of your orders. I know. I thought as much. Well, I hope whoever’s behind this has a damn good reason for throwing you and your lads into the sea. I can’t see anything any of us can do right now is going to change the way things will go.’

  ‘We’ve not had a lot to do but retreat for the last year. My men wouldn’t mind one last chance to have a go back at them.’

  Lündstrom had on many an occasion in the last year shared a drink with passionate young officers in the bars of Bergen. There were nearly 40,000 servicemen isolated in Norway - soldiers, airmen, sailors, many of them veterans. A large proportion of these men had fought in elite regiments that had served tours of duty in the east. They were good soldiers, the cream of what was left of Germany’s fighting forces, but they were stuck where they were, separated by the Baltic from Germany and frustrated that they could do little to help their comrades and defend their country.