Hitler smiled benignly. ‘Now be off with you. Try and get a little sleep and I’ll see you at breakfast.’ He turned to look down at the fire and Himmler left quickly.
The English Channel was fogged in for most of the way to Cap de la Hague and Asa took advantage of it, using the cover, making good time, finally turning in towards the French coast just after three.
He called Chernay over the radio. ‘Chernay, Falcon here, what’s the situation?’
In the radio room Schellenberg sprang from his chair and crossed to Leber. The Flight Sergeant said, ‘We’ve had some clearance with wind but not enough. Ceiling zero one minute then it clears to maybe a hundred feet, then back again.’
‘Is there anywhere else to go?’ Asa demanded.
‘Not round here. Cherbourg’s totally closed in.’
Schellenberg took the mike. ‘Asa, it’s me. Are you all there?’
‘We sure as hell are. Your Colonel Steiner, Devlin and me, only we don’t seem to have any place to go.’
‘What’s your fuel position?’
‘I figure I’m good for about forty-five minutes. What I’ll do is stooge around for a while. Keep on the line and let me know the second there’s any kind of improvement.’
Leber said, ‘I’ll have the men light runway flares, General, it might help.’
‘I’ll take care of that,’ Schellenberg told him. ‘You stay on the radio,’ and he hurried out.
After twenty minutes, Asa said, ‘This is no good. Sit tight and I’ll give it a shot.’
He took the Lysander down, his wheel spots on, and the fog enveloped him, just as it had done at Shaw Place. At six hundred feet he pulled the column back into his stomach and went up, coming out of the mist and fog at around a thousand.
The stars still glistened palely and what was left of the moon was low, dawn streaking the horizon. Asa called, ‘It’s hopeless. Suicide to try and land. I’d rather put her down in the sea.’
‘The tide’s out, Captain,’ Leber answered.
‘Is that a fact? How much beach do you get down there?’
‘It runs for miles.’
‘Then that’s it. It’s some sort of a chance anyway.’
Schellenberg’s voice sounded. ‘Are you sure, Asa?’
‘The only thing I’m sure of, General, is that we don’t have any choice. We’ll see you or we won’t. Over and out.’
Schellenberg dropped the mike and turned to Leber. ‘Can we get down there?’
‘Oh, yes, General, there’s a road leading to an old slipway.’
‘Good. Then let’s get moving.’
‘If I have to land in the sea this thing’s not going to float for very long,’ Asa said over his shoulder to Steiner and Devlin. ‘There’s a dinghy pack there behind you. The yellow thing. Get it out fast, pull the red tag and it inflates itself.’
Steiner smiled. ‘You swim, of course, Mr Devlin.’
Devlin smiled back. ‘Some of the time.’
Asa started down, easing the column forward, sweat on his face, all the way to five hundred and his altimeter kept on going. The Lysander bucked in a heavy gust of wind and they passed three hundred.
Devlin cried, ‘I saw something.’
The fog seemed to open before them, as if a curtain was being pulled to each side, and there were great waves surging in from the Atlantic, half a mile of wet sand stretching towards the cliffs of Cap de la Hague. Asa heaved the column back, and the Lysander levelled out no more than fifty feet above the whitecaps that pounded into the surf on the shore.
Asa slammed the instrument panel with one hand. ‘You beautiful, beautiful bitch. I love you,’ he cried and turned into the wind to land.
The truck containing Schellenberg, Leber and several Luftwaffe mechanics had reached the slipway at the very moment the Lysander burst into view.
‘He made it, General,’ Leber cried. ‘What a pilot,’ and he ran forward waving, followed by his men.
Schellenberg felt totally drained. He lit a cigarette and waited as the Lysander taxied towards the end of the slipway. It came to a halt and Leber and his men cheered as Asa switched off the engine. Devlin and Steiner got out first and Asa followed, taking off his flying helmet and tossing it into the cockpit.
Leber said, ‘Quite a job, Captain.’
Asa said, ‘Treat her with care, Flight Sergeant. Only the best. She’s earned it. Will she be safe here?’
‘Oh, yes, the tide is on the turn, but it doesn’t come up this far.’
‘Fine. Do an engine check and you’ll have to refuel by hand.’
‘As you say, Captain.’
Schellenberg stood, waiting as Steiner and Devlin came towards him. He held out his hand to Steiner. ‘Colonel, a pleasure to see you here.’
‘General,’ Steiner said.
Schellenberg turned to Devlin. ‘As for you, my mad Irish friend, I still can’t believe you’re here.’
‘Well, you know what I always say, Walter, me old son, all you have to do is live right.’ Devlin grinned. ‘Would you think there might be a bit of breakfast somewhere? I’m starved.’
They sat round the table in the little canteen drinking coffee. Schellenberg said, ‘So, the Führer arrived safely last night.’
‘And Rommel and the Admiral?’ Devlin asked.
‘I’ve no idea where they’ve been staying but they will be joining him very soon now. Must be on their way.’
Steiner said, ‘This plan of yours makes a wild kind of sense, but there is a considerable uncertainty.’
‘You don’t think the men of this parachute detachment will follow you?’
‘Oh, no, I mean what happens to the three of you in the Chateau before we arrive.’
‘Yes, well, we’ve no choice,’ Schellenberg said. ‘There’s no other way.’
‘Yes, I see that.’
There was a moment’s silence and Schellenberg said, ‘Are you with me in this, Colonel, or not? There isn’t much time.’
Steiner got up and moved to the window. It had started to rain heavily and he stared out for a moment and turned. ‘I have little reason to like the Führer and not just because of what happened to my father. I could say he’s bad for everybody, a disaster for the human race, but for me, the most important thing is that he’s bad for Germany. Having said that, Himmler as head of state would be infinitely worse. At least with the Führer in charge one has the prospect of an end to this bloody war.’
‘So you will join with me in this?’
‘I don’t think any of us have a choice.’
Asa shrugged. ‘What the hell, you can count me in.’
Devlin stood up and stretched. ‘Right, well, let’s get on with it,’ and he opened the door and went out.
When Schellenberg went into the hut he and Asa had been using, Devlin had a foot on the bed, his trousers rolled up as he adjusted the Smith & Wesson in the ankle holster.
‘Your ace-in-the-hole, my friend?’
‘And this.’ Devlin took out the silenced Walther from his holdall and put it into his waistband at the rear. Then he took out the Luger. ‘This is the one for the pocket. I doubt those SS guards will let us through the door armed, so best to have something to give them.’
‘Do you think it will work?’ Schellenberg asked.
‘Uncertainty and from you at this stage, General?’
‘Not really. You see the Allies have made one thing very clear. No negotiated peace. Total surrender. The last thing Himmler could afford.’
‘Yes, there’s a rope waiting for him all right one of these days.’
‘And me also, perhaps. I am, after all, a general of the SS,’ Schellenberg said.
‘Don’t worry, Walter.’ Devlin smiled. ‘If you end up in a prison cell I’ll break you out and for free. Now let’s get moving.’
Field Marshal Erwin Rommel and Admiral Canaris had left Rennes at five o’clock in a Mercedes limousine driven, for reasons of security, by Rommel’s aide, a Major Carl Ritter. Two military
police motorcyclists were their only escort and led the way as they twisted and turned through the narrow French lanes in the early morning gloom.
‘Of course, the only reason we’ve had to turn out at such a ridiculous time is because he wants us at a disadvantage,’ Canaris said.
‘The Führer likes all of us at a disadvantage, Admiral,’ Rommel said, ‘I’d have thought you’d have learned that long ago.’
‘I wonder what he’s up to?’ Canaris said. ‘We know he’s going to confirm your appointment as Commander of Army Group B but he could have made you fly to Berlin for that.’
‘Exactly,’ Rommel said. ‘And there are such things as telephones. No, I think it’s the Normandy business.’
‘But surely we can make him see sense there?’ Canaris said. ‘The report we’ve put together is really quite conclusive.’
‘Yes, but unfortunately the Führer favours the Pas de Calais and so does his astrologer.’
‘And Uncle Heini?’ Canaris suggested.
‘Himmler always agrees with the Führer, you know that as well as I do.’ Beyond, through a break in the rain they saw Belle Ile. ‘Impressive,’ Rommel added.
‘Yes, very Wagnerian,’ Canaris said drily. ‘The castle at the end of the world. The Führer must like that. He and Himmler must be enjoying themselves.’
‘Have you ever wondered how it came to happen, Admiral? How we came to allow such monsters to control the destinies of millions of people?’ Erwin Rommel asked.
‘Every day of my life,’ Canaris replied.
The Mercedes turned off the road and started up to the Chateau, the motorcyclists leading the way.
15
It was just after six and Hauptmann Erich Kramer commanding the 12th Parachute Detachment at St Aubin was having coffee in his office when he heard a vehicle drive into the farmyard. He went to the window and saw a Kubelwagen, its canvas hood up against the rain. Asa got out first followed by Schellenberg and Devlin.
Kramer recognized them instantly from the last visit and frowned. ‘Now what in the hell do they want?’ he said softly.
And then Kurt Steiner emerged. Having no cap he had borrowed a Luftwaffe sidecap from Flight Sergeant Leber, what was commonly referred to as a schiff. It was, as it happened, an affectation of many old-timers in the Parachute Regiment. He stood there in the rain in his blue-grey flying blouse with the yellow collar patches, jump trousers and boots. Kramer took in the Knight’s Cross with Oak Leaves, the silver and gold eagle of the paratrooper’s badge, the Kreta and Afrika Korps cuff-titles. He recognized him, of course; a legend to everyone in the Parachute Regiment.
‘Oh, my God,’ he murmured, reached for his cap and opened the door, buttoning his blouse. ‘Colonel Steiner – sir.’ He got his heels together and saluted, ignoring the others. ‘I can’t tell you what an honour this is.’
‘A pleasure. Captain Kramer, isn’t it?’ Steiner took in Kramer’s cuff-titles, the ribbon for the Winter War. ‘So, we are old comrades, it would seem?’
‘Yes, Colonel.’
Several paratroopers had emerged from their canteen curious about the arrivals. At the sight of Steiner they all jumped to attention. ‘At ease, lads,’ he called and said to Kramer, ‘What strength have you here?’
‘Thirty-five only, Colonel.’
‘Good,’ Steiner told him. ‘I’m going to need everyone including you, of course, so let’s get in out of this rain and I’ll explain.’
The thirty-five men of the 12th Parachute Detachment stood in four ranks in the rain in the farmyard. They wore the steel helmets peculiar to the Parachute Regiment, baggy jump smocks and most of them had Schmeisser machine pistols slung across their chests. They stood there, rigid to attention as Steiner addressed them, Schellenberg, Devlin and Asa Vaughan behind him, Kramer at one side.
Steiner hadn’t bothered with niceties, only the facts. ‘So there it is. The Führer is to meet his death very shortly at the hands of traitorous elements of the SS. Our job is to stop them. Any questions?’
There wasn’t a word, only the heavy rain drumming down and Steiner turned to Kramer. ‘Get them ready, Captain.’
‘Zu befehl, Herr Oberst.’ Kramer saluted.
Steiner turned to the others. ‘Will fifteen minutes be enough for you?’
‘Then you arrive like a panzer column,’ Schellenberg told him. ‘Very fast indeed.’
He and Asa got in the Kubelwagen. Devlin, the black hat slanted over one ear, the trenchcoat he’d stolen from the Army and Navy Club already soaked, said to Steiner, ‘In a way, we’ve been here before.’
‘I know, and the same old question. Are we playing the game or is the game playing us?’
‘Let’s hope we have better luck than we did last time, Colonel.’ Devlin smiled, got in the back of the Kubelwagen and Asa drove away.
At the Château de Belle Ile, Rommel, Canaris and Major Ritter went up the steps to the main entrance. One of the two SS guards opened the door and they went inside. There seemed to be guards everywhere.
Rommel said to Canaris as he unbuttoned his coat, ‘It looks rather like some weekend SS convention, the kind they used to have in Bavaria in the old days.’
Berger came down the stairs and advanced to meet them. ‘Herr Admiral – Herr Field Marshal, a great pleasure. Sturmbannführer Berger, in charge of security.’
‘Major.’ Rommel nodded.
‘The Führer is waiting in the dining hall. He has requested that no one bears arms in his presence.’
Rommel and Ritter took their pistols from their holsters. ‘I trust we’re not late?’ the Field Marshal said.
‘Actually, you are early by two minutes.’ Berger gave him the good-humoured smile of one soldier to another. ‘May I show you the way?’
He opened the great oak door and they followed him in. The long dining table was laid for four people only. The Führer was standing by the stone fireplace looking down into the burning logs. He turned and faced them.
‘Ah, there you are.’
Rommel said, ‘I trust you are well, my Führer?’
Hitler nodded to Canaris. ‘Herr Admiral.’ His eyes flickered to Ritter who stood rigidly to attention clutching a briefcase. ‘And who have we here?’
‘My personal aide, Major Carl Ritter, my Führer. He has further details on the Normandy situation that we have already discussed,’ Rommel said.
‘More reports?’ Hitler suggested. ‘If you must, I suppose.’ He turned to Berger. ‘Have another place laid at the table and see what’s keeping the Reichsführer.’
As Berger moved to the door it opened and Himmler entered. He wore the black dress uniform and his face was pale, a faint edge of excitement to him that he found difficult to conceal. ‘I apologize, my Führer, a phone call from Berlin as I was about to leave my room.’ He nodded. ‘Herr Admiral – Field Marshal.’
‘And the Field Marshal’s aide, Major Ritter.’ Hitler rubbed his hands together. ‘I really feel extraordinarily hungry. You know, gentlemen, perhaps one should do this more often. The early breakfast, I mean. It leaves so much of the day for matters of importance. But come. Sit.’
He himself took the head of the table. Rommel and Canaris on his right, Himmler and Ritter on the left. ‘So,’ he said. ‘Let’s begin. Food before business.’
He picked up the small silver bell at his right hand and rang it.
It was no more than ten minutes later that the Kubelwagen arrived at the main gate. Schellenberg leaned out, the sergeant who came forward took in his uniform and saluted.
‘The Führer is expecting us,’ Schellenberg told him.
The sergeant looked uncertain. ‘I’ve orders to admit no one, General.’
‘Don’t be stupid, man,’ Schellenberg said. ‘That hardly applies to me.’ He nodded to Asa. ‘Drive on, Hauptsturmführer.’
They drove into the inner courtyard and stopped. Devlin said, ‘You know what the Spaniards call the instant when the bullfighter goes in for the kill and doesn’t kno
w whether he’ll live or die? The moment of truth.’
‘Not now, Mr Devlin,’ Schellenberg said. ‘Let’s just keep going,’ and he marched up the wide steps and reached for the handle of the front door.
Hitler was enjoying himself, working his way through a plate of toast and fruit. ‘One thing about the French, they really do make rather excellent bread,’ he said and reached for another slice.
The door opened and an SS sergeant-major entered. It was Himmler who spoke to him. ‘I thought I made it clear we were not to be disturbed for any reason.’
‘Yes, Reichsführer, but General Schellenberg is here with a Hauptsturmführer and some civilian. Says it is imperative he sees the Führer.’
Himmler said, ‘Nonsense, you have your orders!’
Hitler cut in at once. ‘Schellenberg? Now I wonder what that can be about? Bring them in, Sergeant-Major.’
Schellenberg, Devlin and Asa waited in the hall by the door. The sergeant-major returned. ‘The Führer will see you, General, but all weapons must be left here. I have my orders. It applies to everyone.’
‘Of course.’ Schellenberg took his pistol from its holster, slapping it down on the table.
Asa did the same and Devlin took the Luger from his coat pocket. ‘All contributions graciously given.’
The sergeant-major said, ‘If you would follow me, gentlemen.’ He turned and led the way across the hall.
When they went in, Hitler was still eating. Rommel and Canaris looked up curiously. Himmler was deathly pale.
Hitler said, ‘Now then, Schellenberg, what brings you here?’
‘I regret the intrusion, my Führer, but a matter of the gravest urgency has come to my attention.’
‘And how urgent would that be?’ Hitler demanded.
‘A question of your very life, my Führer, or should I say an attempt on your life.’
‘Impossible,’ Himmler said.
Hitler waved him to silence and glanced at Devlin and Asa Vaughan. ‘And who have we here?’
‘If I may explain? The Reichsführer recently gave me the task of planning the safe return to the Reich of a certain Colonel Kurt Steiner who was held prisoner in the Tower of London for a while. Herr Devlin here and Hauptsturmführer Vaughan succeeded triumphantly in this matter, delivered Steiner to me at a small Luftwaffe base near here a short time ago.’
Eagle Has Flown, The Page 22
