by Martin Gunn
Now, as Kolbeck lay back on his hotel bed, he contemplated the task ahead of him and felt privileged to be such a vital part of this important operation. With the Russians tightening their grip on Berlin however, he knew that time was against them. It was going to be a close-run thing.
***
Just before 0900 hours the staff car arrived at the hotel. Kolbeck finished up his cup of coffee, put on his coat and hat, then stepped out to meet the driver.
“Where are you taking me?” enquired Kolbeck curiously.
“To the Villa Winter sir,” replied the driver, “close to the village of Cofete. It’s about a half hour drive away.”
The storm of the previous day had cleared the air; now even this early in the morning the sun was beating down from a cloudless sky and it was getting very warm. Kolbeck loosened his collar, at least for the drive. As they progressed he took in the scenery. It didn’t impress him, the area looked completely arid, barren desert sand. Being sixty miles off the coast of Africa, the Sahara winds carried copious quantities of sand, which it deposited on to the island creating huge sand dunes. The only relief from this was the mountain range looming in the distance, where they seemed to be headed. Kolbeck wasn’t here to sightsee, he appreciated the strategic importance of Fuerteventura. Germany’s support of Franco during the Spanish Civil War had paid dividends and although Spain was officially neutral, unofficially it was very pro-Nazi, and German submarines operated out of the Canary Islands and mainland Spain with unequivocal audacity.
Eventually the car started climbing up a dirt track, kicking up dust as it went, prompting Kolbeck to cover his mouth and nose with a handkerchief, then as the track levelled out the villa came into view. Built halfway up the mountain slope, it was typically Spanish in style, having several arches that led out onto a veranda. On the front left corner was a circular tower, which rose higher than the roof. Two guards were keeping lookout on top of it; they were not in uniform and Kolbeck couldn’t tell whether they were German or Spanish. The car pulled to a stop and the major fixed his collar then stepped out. As he looked around him and at the view from this elevated position, a woman in her mid-forties walked out of the villa to greet him. She was slim, of average height, wearing a plain white summer dress and pale blue light cardigan. Her hair was tied up in a bun and even though she wore no makeup, her attractiveness was apparent.
“Sturmbannführer Kolbeck,” she greeted, with a warm smile and holding out her right hand in greeting.
“Indeed,” replied Kolbeck removing his cap, “and you must be Doctor Schill.”
“Please call me Liesel.”
“Erich,” reciprocated Kolbeck with a smile, “how long have you been here?”
“I have been here since 1939, working on pioneering surgery.”
“I can think of worse places to live out the war,” commented Kolbeck looking around him.
“Tell me,” continued Liesel, her tone anxious, “is it very bad at home? We get little news here.”
“I’m afraid so,” frowned Kolbeck, “the war is lost, Berlin is days from falling, I fear we haven’t much time.”
“What do you know of the twins?” asked Liesel getting down to business.
“Very little except they needed plastic surgery.”
“What we can do is very limited,” she added, “this technology is in its infancy but we are learning more as time goes on. It is fortunate that the twins only needed work done to their noses.”
“How do they look?”
“I think you will be surprised by the results,” smiled Liesel with pride, “I shall take you straight in to meet them.”
Kolbeck followed Liesel down a hallway to a room at the rear of the villa. She stopped at a door, turned and smiled at the major and entered. The room was comfortably furnished with a sofa and coffee table. In one corner was a drinks cabinet and looking out of the window with their backs to them were two men, of slightly below average height and with dark hair.
“Gentlemen, this is Sturmbannführer Kolbeck,” she announced.
The two men turned to meet their visitor. Kolbeck was astounded, the likeness was impeccable. In front of him stood two men the very image of Adolf Hitler.
“My God!” was all he could utter. He walked up closer and studied them, “You did some work to their noses you say?”
“Yes – some time ago now. It has healed well don’t you think?”
“Remarkable.” Kolbeck was impressed.
“Where are my manners,” beseeched Liesel, admonishing herself, “let me introduce Jakob and Juergen Lorenz.”
Each twin stepped forwards as his name was mentioned and shook Kolbeck’s hand.
“They have been studying the Führer’s speech patterns and mannerisms for more than two years now, to the point where only someone very close to Hitler, like Eva Braun, Albert Speer or Goebbels would notice a difference.”
Before the war in Europe had even started, a nationwide search had begun to find someone who could be passed off as Hitler. Eventually a scout found such a person towards the end of 1940 in a bierkeller in Dusseldorf. He was watching the entertainment, a band performing in the corner of the bar, when to his astonishment, he noticed not one, but two possible candidates. One was playing the piano accordion, the other a mandolin. Since there had been little success finding anyone elsewhere, finding the twins was like manna from heaven. A gift from the gods even. Fortunately, the twins, who were fanatically loyal to the Führer, were happy to comply. Not that they would have had any choice in the matter. Though better to work with someone who is compliant. And so it was that Jakob and Juergen were shipped to the Canary Islands to start their eventual transformation.
Kolbeck walked back to Liesel. “How are you to decide who stays here?”
“They decided for themselves.”
“How?”
“We tossed a coin,” interjected Jakob resignedly, “I lost – or won. Whichever way you look at it.”
Appreciating the significance of his last comment Kolbeck turned to Liesel.
“If you could take Jakob out of the room, I will brief Juergen.”
Liesel nodded and led Jakob out.
“Please sit down,” invited Kolbeck.
The Hitler lookalike sat opposite him and Kolbeck found it a little unnerving, having never met the great man himself.
“As you know I am taking your brother to Berlin. You will be moved to the southernmost part of the island within the next forty-eight hours. There’s a submarine base where you will await our return. We will be flying back from Berlin and will land near Vigo, northern Spain. From the port at Vigo there is a submarine base, where hopefully myself and the rest of the entourage will leave to come and pick you up.”
“Where will we be going?” enquired Juergen.
“Argentina,” stated Kolbeck, “as soon as you arrive there, you will start to put all of your training into effect. You will be Adolf Hitler.”
“What if I am noticed?”
“That is the whole point. We want you to be noticed. It is important that the eyes of the British Secret Service, MI6 and especially the attention of the American Office of Strategic Services are on you. We need to divert attention away from the United States where the Führer will be. It is also important that it is done subtly so as not to arouse suspicion.”
“I understand,” concurred Juergen.
“Good,” replied Kolbeck, “I will let you spend the short time you have left with your brother.”
Leaving the room, Kolbeck searched for Liesel. He found her sitting on the veranda with Jakob. Sitting down he turned to Jakob and confirmed,
“We will be leaving tonight at dusk. You may want to spend what time is left with your brother.”
Jakob nodded and started to stand. As he did so, Kolbeck placed his hand on Jakob’s forearm.
“Thi
s is a brave thing that you are doing for your country.”
“We are both proud to serve in any way that we can,” replied Jakob earnestly, then turned and walked back into the villa.
Kolbeck glanced at Liesel.
“Is the bullion in place ready to be loaded on board when I return?”
“I believe so,” she replied, “there is also a large cache of diamonds. I don’t think money will be an issue.”
“You should come with us, to Argentina,” smiled Kolbeck, “your work could prove vital to our compatriots on the run.”
“I will give it some serious thought,” smiled Liesel in reply.
For the rest of the day Kolbeck relaxed, enjoying Liesel’s company in the shade provided by the veranda. Even though she was ten years older than him, he found himself attracted to her. The doctor sensed it and was flattered. It was a shame, she thought, that they didn’t have much time to get to know each other better. But then, if she did go to Argentina – yes it was definitely worth considering. Kolbeck’s thoughts were elsewhere. The next forty-eight hours were going to be hectic and dangerous. It was touch and go whether he would be able to pull it off.
***
Tempelhof Airport – Berlin
28th April 1945
The flight from Fuerteventura had been an uneventful one, until the aircraft crossed the border into Germany. As they got closer to Berlin, the Condor was buffeted by heavy flack. Kolbeck looked out of the window and could see an area around the capital ablaze, lighting up the night sky. The Russians had infiltrated further than he had hoped, he feared that they may be too late. As the aircraft made its descent into Tempelhof Airport at about 0100 hours, Kolbeck estimated the Red Army to be no more than one kilometre away – possibly less.
The Condor had barely ground to a halt, when Kolbeck and Jakob alighted from the aircraft. The sound of machine-gun fire and artillery could be heard, not too far away, as the defences tried to hold back the Russians. They were immediately confronted by a welcoming party, who had been waiting impatiently for the plane to arrive. The group consisted of Professor Franz Kremer and six soldiers.
“Welcome to Berlin gentlemen!” announced the professor, “Please, if you would follow me, there is no time to lose.”
At that moment he was stopped in his tracks as he noticed Jakob. Even in this poor light, he could see that this man was the spitting image of Hitler. They made their way hastily over to the main building, and once inside, Professor Kremer escorted them to a lift which gave access to the labyrinth of floors and tunnels that existed beneath the airport. They entered and Kremer pressed a button to go down. Within seconds they were out of the lift and standing in a room that looked more like an engineering factory.
“Wow – I wasn’t expecting this,” declared Kolbeck, looking around him, impressed.
“Indeed,” replied the professor, “we are on floor two of six levels, there are a myriad of tunnels. A network encompassing much of the capital. Experimental aircraft manufacture has been taking place here since before the war, including work on the bell.”
The professor led them to a metal door which opened into a tunnel tall enough to stand up in. the walls curved into a tiled ceiling.
“You will need to walk down this tunnel until you reach the outskirts of the airport,” stated Kremer. “There, you will take a shuttle from subway U6. This will take you directly to the Führerbunker. It shouldn’t take you more than forty-five minutes to get there, so hopefully you will be back in about ninety minutes.”
Without further ado, Kolbeck and Jakob started walking briskly through the dimly lit tunnel. Nothing was said, but Kolbeck sensed that Jakob was getting more and more apprehensive. In less than thirty minutes, they finally reached another metal door. Kolbeck opened it to find themselves on a small platform. In front of them was a small electric powered shuttle type train, with an open carriage which could take up to ten passengers. They were greeted by a man who was expecting them. He too took a double take at Jakob before showing them into their seats, then settling into the driver’s seat and moving off. The train sped through the tunnel at a fast pace, and fifteen minutes later slowed down and stopped at another platform.
“Through that door over there Sir,” advised the driver.
Again, Kolbeck opened the door to be confronted by three men. One was tall and the other two were of below average height. The shorter men were Adolf Hitler and his secretary Martin Bormann. The third man was Joseph Goebbels, Hitler’s minister of propaganda.
Kolbeck and Jakob immediately gave a Nazi salute but Hitler simply shook their hands. He turned and studied Jakob, then smiled warmly.
“This is a great thing that you are doing for your country and for me.”
“Yes, my Führer,” blurted out Jakob – he was overwhelmed by finally meeting who, to him, was a great man.
As Hitler and Bormann walked through onto the platform, Hitler turned to Goebbels and Jakob then imparted, “the Third Reich ends here with you.”
A grim-faced Goebbels led Jakob away down the narrow corridor that fed into the bunker.
“Come, Eva is expecting you,” encouraged Goebbels, in a genial manner, “we must get you settled into the Führer’s private quarters, before you are noticed.”
***
The shuttle moved quickly through the poorly-lit tunnel, back towards Tempelhof Airport, whilst Hitler reflected on his last moments with Eva.
She had known of these plans for some time now, but as the moment came for them to part she was inconsolable. The Führer tried to placate her by pointing out how vital her part was in this deception. She was, he pointed out, the mother of the Third Reich and her part would help to give birth to the Fourth Reich. It was a big task to ask of her but Eva’s devotion to him meant that he knew she would carry it out without question. Her instructions were clear. After a small marriage ceremony, she would take Jakob into Hitler’s study, and administer to him a cyanide capsule, then she was to shoot him in the right temple with the Führer’s personal Walther PPK pistol, then take her own life by cyanide. The success of this subterfuge, relied heavily on Eva’s bravery, and the knowledge that she couldn’t continue on without him.
Eventually the three men were back in the underground complex underneath Tempelhof. They were met by Professor Kremer who saluted the two VIPs.
“Gentlemen, the plane is being made ready for take-off. I trust it won’t be too long before you can go,” gushed the professor.
“What about the machine?” enquired Hitler.
“It is being prepared now. Would you like to see it?”
The Führer nodded, and they were all led up one floor to a large room with the curious looking bell-shaped object sitting ominously at its centre.
“Will it work?” enquired Bormann, “is it safe?”
“Oh, it works,” confirmed Kremer, “how safe it is, well that’s open to conjecture.”
Hitler turned to Kremer and remarked, “Well then professor, my fate is in your hands.”
By 0900 hours, Kolbeck was informed that the Condor was ready to go. He wasn’t happy, by now it was broad daylight, and the aircraft would be an easy target on take-off.
Hitler shook Bormann’s hand and gave a salute to Kolbeck.
“We will see you in thirty-nine years’ time,” smiled Bormann.
“Assuming this contraption works,” replied Hitler.
“Apparently one took off from the research base at Milkow without incident.”
“My fate is in the lap of the gods I fear.”
“Good luck.”
“And you,” replied Hitler, “don’t fail me Martin.”
Kolbeck and Bormann along with ten SS Kommandos saluted and made their way out towards the Condor which was just taxiing into position for take-off. An explosion just inside the airport perimeter stopped them in their tracks, then Kolbeck, rea
lising they had to get airborne immediately, hastened his pace and urged the rest to follow suit. Without further delay they climbed aboard and strapped themselves in. The aircraft slowly started to make its way down the runway, gathering speed until eventually they were in the air and climbing. The Russians turned their attention to it and started firing as the plane rose higher and higher. It was getting uncomfortable inside the plane, as it was being buffeted by flack. Kolbeck looked out of the starboard window to see part of the wing peppered with bullet holes. The aircraft was buffeted harder, as a shell exploded close to the outer starboard engine and as smoke started to trail over the wing, Kolbeck unstrapped himself and made his way to the cabin. He turned to the pilot on his left and shouted over the din,
“The engine’s hit, will you be able to make it?”
“It’s not on fire,” bellowed the pilot, “I’ll feather the prop and shut it down – we should be alright on three engines.”
Nodding, Kolbeck made his way back to his seat and by the skin of its teeth the Condor rose high into the sky, out of range of enemy fire, on a course for Vigo, northern Spain.
Professor Kremer watched with a sigh of relief as the stricken aircraft disappeared into the distance. He swung his head round to the left with a start as two more shells exploded on the far side of the airfield. The German defences were beginning to collapse, there was little time left before they would be overrun by the Red Army. Making his way down to level one, Kremer found Hitler sitting patiently in a chair. He looked up as the professor approached.
“We must go now Sir,” urged Kremer, “the Russians will be here soon.”
“Lead the way Professor,” replied a resolute Hitler, standing up.
Kremer escorted the Führer over to the time machine. Hitler looked around him and observed a large room much like the one below. This room however, had much more activity. Men were milling about preparing the time machine for launch. In the centre of the room the bell stood silent and resolute, ready for take-off.
