Then Helena looked to her father, “What do you think, Papa?”
Tomas, put on the spot, but in the interests of his daughter’s peace of mind, said, “That’s pretty much what Markus will be doing … It’s pretty light work.” He then turned to Christiana and Michael: “Clear the table. Come along; help clean up.”
“If you are in the right, then God will protect you. Isn’t that right, dear?”
“Yes, my darling.”
The next day, Markus took the train from Windhoek to Lüderitz on the coast.
His first priority was to inspect the aircraft and become familiar with its many idiosyncrasies. The mechanics knew most of them, and the two other pilots knew the rest. Markus visited both pilots in the hospital.
The malaria-ridden pilot was weak but well on the mend. The pilot who was shot while flying had a bullet wound that entered the side of his hip, traveled up his body, and broke four ribs. Every breath he took was painful. Both men managed to give Markus valuable tips on maneuverability, quirky landing attributes, and the dangerous fact of the perpetually leaking fuel tank, caused by intense vibrations of the engine in the fragile craft. They also warned of very difficult wind conditions along the coast and over the water, depending on time of day and weather and because of the winds from the inland deserts. Markus thanked them each with a bottle of Jägermeister Schnapps.
After leaving the hospital, he went directly to the airfield and took one of the aeroplanes up for a test flight before reporting to Commander von Heydebreck.
Captain Mathias was immediately assigned the task of scouting the ocean and inland from the coast for a few miles and from Lüderitz, south, as far as his fuel would allow for a round trip. He looked for any signs of an enemy landing or preparations for one along the desolate coast.
It was a perfect day for flying, light wind and clear sky. As Markus skimmed out over the choppy blue waters, he marveled at the sea life, so completely different from flying in Bavaria. Dark shadows in the sea were huge schools of fish. He saw porpoises and several whales, to his amazement. He’d seen these creatures before, but from shipboard. From the air, it was different. There was a primeval purity to it all. Like being a part of nature, like a bird looking down, he thought.
Kabam! His daydreaming in the sky came to an abrupt end when a cannon shell burst several hundred yards above and to his front.
“Jesus Christ! What the hell?” he shouted in alarm. He felt the shock wave and felt his aeroplane shudder as black chunks of shrapnel radiated out from the burst.
A second later, he heard a frightful sound, a sound he had heard described to him by other pilots who had survived crashes. It was a sound he had hoped never to hear: the simple “ping” of a wing guide wire snapping. He looked to his left and saw the guide wire slapping the wing in the wind.
He was two thousand feet off the ocean’s surface, and as he circled around, he saw a ship, its black, oily smoke trailing behind it. Two white puffs of smoke appeared amid ships. He knew instinctively those were two more cannon rounds fired at him. He banked his craft sharply, forgetting for a second about the snapped wire. His left wing began to shudder. He knew the wing could simply fold up.
Markus knew he had to fly with the least amount of stress on the wing, and at the same time, escape the blasts from the enemy. Looking back for the first time, he noticed a group of ships, five or six, heading north.
“Invasion!” he shouted, as two more shells burst behind him. He knew he could easily outrun the ships but not the speed of their shells. He flew a straight course for the coast, losing altitude as he went and watching both the crippled wing and the ships behind him.
He was finally out of range of the guns, so he slowed the aeroplane, gliding gently down, riding the thermal currents of hot air from the desert. If only I had a wireless up here, he thought to himself as he spotted the airfield in the far distance. I’ve got to work on that.
CHAPTER 26
A Matter of Unique Skills
The South Africans planned the invasion of the German Colony with the backing of the British navy. What Captain Mathias saw on his flight south along the coast was that invasion fleet.
Not surprisingly, little effort was made by Commander von Heydebreck to defend the port at Lüderitz. The German defense plan was to fall back toward the interior and force the invaders to deal with the harsh coastal conditions and the forty to sixty miles of desert from the coast inland. He told Markus: “You are ordered to evacuate the two aeroplanes from Lüderitz inland, east up the railroad to the town of Aus.”
Markus piloted the first one and returned by train for the second. He kept the second craft closer to the enemy, so he could continue his scouting mission. Flying directly west along the rail line, Markus saw his fellow soldiers busy tearing up the track as they retreated.
The rails were put into great stacks of firewood that were set ablaze, which caused the rails to bend and warp into useless shapes. Markus flew through the gray smoke over no man’s land. As he approached the British and South African lines, he observed the enemy rebuilding the same tracks. Fortunately, their progress was slow for lack of useable rails, giving the Germans much-needed time to organize their defenses.
The coastal desert region offered nothing to feed the large contingent of horses, oxen, and camels required to move and provision the invading army. Cavalry horses often sank up to their stirrups in places where the winds and time had ground the sand into fine powder. Even water for the livestock was very scarce and often had to be brought in by wagon from distant wells. Weeks went by with only small military actions, but the South Africans made relentless progress up the rail line.
On November 12, disaster struck when the German colony lost her military commander, General von Heydebreck, killed in battle from a rifle grenade. In addition, the war footing for the colony had brought acute food shortages to both the military and civilian populations. The governor began confiscating all food stuffs, including cattle, and began rationing all goods.
Markus was able to communicate by telegraph with his family, and after the sick pilot, Schleiffer, returned to duty, Markus was reassigned to his original duties at the wireless station. It was with a sense of both foreboding and relief that he rode the train north to Windhoek. He knew the colony could not hold out indefinitely against the South Africans, the British, and the Portuguese to the north.
Helena met Markus with open arms at the train station. After their warm greeting, she related her own worries: “And they want to press into service boys of even a younger age. That means Humboldt could be called … And they impounded most all the cattle. Fortunately, a few strays were not with the herd.” There was true anxiety in her voice. “Wolfgang and Arnold are fighting over near Swakopmund! Did you hear?”
They were standing on the station platform, close together, jostled by the crowds of soldiers and their families and piles of military equipment heading east toward the coast and the invaders.
“Yes, I know, dear. It’s the wireless station here in Windhoek that they’re after. It’s our only link to the other colonies. They’re determined to knock it out.”
They both looked around at the confusion among the din of clanking equipment and swirls of dust.
“I’ve brought you a horse. It’s faster than the carriage … They took most of the horses, too.” Helena squeezed his arm and laid her head on his shoulder for a moment, as the young couple made their way through the crowd.
“The new Commander, Franke, is calling up all able-bodied men here in town … and the little news we hear from Europe is dreadful. They say tens of thousands of soldiers have already died on both sides. Did you know we are fighting in France and Belgium? I just can’t believe it. Why are we in France and Belgium? I can’t believe this is happening!” Dust on her cheeks soaked up her tears leaving trails.
“It’s so good to have you home again; thank God,” she whispered as they broke off and mounted their horses.
Markus reported
to Commander Franke and assumed control of the wireless station again, spending most of his time trying to communicate with the other colonies and also intercepting enemy signals. He was surprised and very disturbed when, again, he was given a special assignment that would utilize his special skills.
It was daring and dangerous, and he was very reluctant to tell Helena until the last minute, with the hope he would not have to do it. The orders were top secret and came directly from Berlin on one of its last communications before the relay station in Cameroon was destroyed by the British invasion of that German colony.
He returned to the ranch very late in the evening on the day he received his special orders. Helena had retired, but Tomas Conrad waited up for him as he was wont to do.
“You look very tired, Markus. Come; sit; have a drink with me.” They both sank into the familiar, overstuffed sofa. It was a dark night and the oil lamps in the large parlor gave a golden, yellow glow to their faces. Markus slumped down, propped his black boots on an ottoman, and unsnapped the collar buttons on his tunic. Tomas’s black houseman, Petre, brought each a shot of schnapps and a cool beer from the root cellar.
“Thank you, Petre.”
“Tomas, sir,” Markus heard the tiredness in his own voice. “I have something to tell you … in the strictest confidence. I don’t want Helena to know anything about this, unless it happens.”
“It sounds very serious. Are you sure you want to tell me?”
Markus sat up, turned to his father-in-law and began, “You know that it is only a matter of time until Windhoek is occupied. We have too few men and munitions, and the South Africans have vast military resources. Commander Franke is going to move the army north and east and take the cattle with him. You should be safe out here on the ranch, but the town is in danger of artillery attack, and of course, the wireless station will be destroyed by us before they get here.” He paused and looked at Conrad.
Tomas leaned forward to reply, “Yes, I have heard rumors of all that in der biergarten in town. But I have a feeling that isn’t what you wanted to tell me.”
Markus and Tomas edged even closer to each other.
“What is it?” he asked. Tomas could see his son-in-law struggling with inner turmoil. Finally, Markus said, “We received an order from Berlin. That is, I received an order from Berlin.”
Tomas’s eyes widened and interrupted Markus, “You? You yourself, personally, received an order from Berlin? Why would the Grand High Command in Berlin give you, a captain way out here in Africa, an order?” He waited for an answer.
“It’s because of my unique set of skills. That’s the only reason, of course.”
“Ja, so you’re an expert electrical engineer, and you know how to operate an aeroplane. What is this special order, if I may ask?”
“I have to leave … with one of the aircraft … and with some of the wireless equipment. But only if—when—the enemy reaches Windhoek.”
“Ahh, so you’re going up north with the army and setting up your wireless somewhere up there. Is that it?” Conrad didn’t wait for an answer but continued, “Well, I imagine it’s to be expected. You’re in the army, and you must go where it goes. Ja, my boy?”
Markus looked at the aging man next to him, feeling a love and a sorrow for him and his boys and daughters and for what they were going through.
“I wish it were that simple, my dear Tomas. You have been like a father to me. I’ve had such a wonderful life here with Helena and your family.”
“Had?”
Markus hesitated and then said what he didn’t want to reveal. “I have been ordered to leave the colony.”
“What? Leave the colony?” Conrad sat up straight on the edge of his seat.
“How? None of the ports are open; the British control the seas; the South Africans are across the Orange River to the south,” he stammered and got up, standing, facing down at Markus. “And the Portuguese are to the north.” He thought for a moment. “Not the Kalahari! Nobody goes west into the Kalahari Desert!” There was a worrisome look on his face.
“No, Tomas, none of those.” Markus paused. “I have been ordered to take the newest wireless equipment we have and fly it to our colony in East Africa and set up a more powerful transmitter there.”
“What? That’s crazy! No one has ever tried to fly across Africa! That’s hundreds of miles full of danger … mountains, jungles … It’s full of danger. Where will you refuel? You have no maps … Nobody has any maps. How can you carry all that equipment in that little machine?” The questions came pouring out as the old man gesticulated, arms flying, and hands animated.
“Please, sir, keep your voice down, or you’ll wake Helena. The equipment isn’t that heavy, it’s only—”
“You’ll never make it! It’s a suicide mission; that’s what it is. I should talk to Commander Franke!”
“No! I could be shot for revealing a top-secret order from High Command.” Markus had shouted out his objection; even he was surprised at his forceful retort.
“Yes, yes, of course. I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” Tomas backtracked hastily. “I’m sorry, Markus. It just sounds so impossible and over enemy territory!”
“Well, that’s one good thing. It may be enemy territory officially, but there will probably be no troops anywhere along the route. It’s about as deep as deepest Africa gets.” Markus was lying, of course. He had already examined what primitive maps there were for the central part of Africa he was to traverse. He knew the only way he could get all the way across the desert, jungle, grasslands, and savannah was to steal gasoline from the only sources there were: British, South African, Boer, and Portuguese military facilities. And that was assuming they would have aeroplanes or, more likely, automobiles that needed gasoline.
“When are you expecting to leave?” Conrad hesitated a moment and noted, “You can’t fly in the rain … some of that country gets … It’s a whole different climate and the topography … There are mountains … You’ve got to carry a gun, the animals …”
He trailed off into silence and the silence endured as the two men sat there, lost in their own thoughts. He got up and refilled the schnapps glasses. Finally, he spoke in a more calm and reasoned voice: “My boy, that’s one hell of an assignment they’ve given you. When are you going to tell Helena?”
Markus looked at Tomas and saw, for the first time, weariness in his slumped shoulders and concerned look.
“Not right away, but soon. Commander Franke is leaving it up to me to decide the exact date, but probably within two weeks. We’re modifying the aeroplane, stripping it of weight, adding more fuel tanks. I’ll be doing a lot of night flying when the moon’s up. It’s surprising what you can see on the ground just from moonlight,” he half smiled.
Markus motioned to Conrad, “Come sit down with me, sir, here.” He scooted over on the sofa, and Tomas sat down. “Herr Conrad, I want you to do something for me,” Markus began. “I want you to take care of my wife and son while I’m gone. I know, of course, you will, as you love your daughter and grandchild as much as I. But, I mean, if things get bad when they come … if you hear about unruly South African soldiers or their native askari. If you hear anything, I want you to take Helena and Rupert to that cabin back in the hills, just to be safe … and leave her a gun. It’s just that I’ve seen soldiers, our own too, in war in China, take advantage of civilian women and I—”
“Of course, of course, I and my boys will do what’s necessary. Nothing is going to happen.” He stifled a sniffle.
“I’m sure it won’t. I’m just being extra cautious.”
Later, as Markus slipped into bed beside a sleeping Helena, he thought, Mein Gott, what a mess this is. This war is not like in China where I only had to worry about myself. Now my world is completely different. I’m leaving Helena and Rupert and the Conrads for who knows how long … and in danger.
Two weeks stretched to four as the aircraft modifications needed more tests on the ground and in the air.
Markus thought to himself, I’ve never seen an aeroplane like this, but it seems to handle fairly well so far.
Meanwhile, scant intelligence coming from the east of the colony on terrain and the enemy, had to be gathered clandestinely and transmitted back to Windhoek for him.
Helena was naturally very upset and fearful upon hearing Markus’s new orders.
“But why can’t one of the other two pilots go instead of you?” she asked as she, baby Rupert, and Markus lay together on the canopied bed. The evening air, breezing through the open doors from the outside garden, scented their room with African hibiscus.
“They’ve both recovered, and both of them are unmarried. Surely your commander could arrange some—”
Her husband cut her off gently. “As I told you earlier, my dearest, I’m the only one who knows the wireless equipment. It’s too complicated to give instructions to someone. I’m needed to reconfigure the equipment in East Africa.”
She knew all this, of course, but emotionally, Helena didn’t want to accept it. “Oh, when will this terrible war be over?” she began again. It was the ultimate recurring question, on a million lips on three continents. “I pray every day that God will intervene. Surely he hears my prayers.” She looked into Markus’s eyes for an answer.
“Of course, of course he does, my dearest, but as you know, God works in ways we may not—we cannot—understand.”
Markus felt a degree of guilt in his words, as he had struggled for a long time with the question of God’s intent and even his ability to intervene in human affairs. He did think—feel—there had to be something, or someone, up there: Catholic God, a supernatural being, some power above all mankind—but answering prayers? Somehow, it just didn’t make sense. He remembered his school years back in Bavaria, playing soccer, when the team coach would have the parish priest come out to the field. The team would pray to win the next game. How could God help one team over another? It seemed impossible, even immoral in some way.
The Storm That Shook the World Page 14
