Betrayed: Secrecy, Lies, and Consequences

by Frederic Martini

  99 H. Bastable, J. Sonshine, E. Carter-Edwards, C. Malcolm, R. Allen, H. Hunter, E. Vincent, R. Ward, W. Bauder, and J. McClanahan arrived at Stalag Luft III on 28 November 1944.

  100 Landing Ship, Tank: a large vessel with a ramp at the bow, intended to carry troops and tanks and deliver them ashore for combat operations.

  101 Loren and the others were in Center Compound of Stalag Luft III, and unaware that Fred was in South Compound.

  CHAPTER 12

  Vengeance

  AUGUST-DECEMBER 1944

  WERNHER VON BRAUN CONTINUED TO do his best to drive his various projects forward while the Allies did their best to make his life difficult. On 25 August 1944, the day after the devastating B-17 raid on the Buchenwald factories, Peenemünde was struck by a third, even larger bombing raid, putting Test Stand VII out of action for six weeks. Over that period, all test firings had to be done in Blizna, Poland. The site was 620 miles away, which meant Wernher wasted a day in travel each way. It was inconvenient and frustrating to say the least. Making August even more stressful, as the Allies pushed them out of France, they risked losing the French factory (Brown, Bouvarie, and Cie) that produced servomotors for their rockets. At a hastily convened meeting, they found a solution — the French civilian workers would be arrested, enslaved, and shipped to the Mittelwerk with their equipment.

  For a time, the V-2 program had competed with the Luftwaffe for funding, as the Führer was impressed with the results of the massed V-1 bombardment of London. But as Himmler, through SS-General Kammler and his SS units, assumed greater and greater control of the V-2 program, resources became much easier to obtain. By early September, Kammler had sent mobile launch teams staffed by thousands of SS troops into Holland and western Germany to prepare for the V-2 offensive. Group North, in Holland, would target London, and Group South, in the Rhineland, would strike Paris and other continental targets. But the first day of the V-2 rocket barrage, 6 September 1944, had not gone as planned. The two rockets fired by Group South both crashed on liftoff or shortly thereafter. Fortunately, successful launches on 8 September struck London (from Group North) and Paris (from Group South). News of the London strike was particularly welcome, as the Peenemünders were still smarting over the British bombing in August 1943.102

  General Dornberger was reassigned and relocated from Peenemünde to a new headquarters in Bad Sachsa. He would henceforth be the Army Commissioner for Special Tasks (Beauftragter zur besonderen Verwendung Heer), with primary responsibility for mobile V-2 launch equipment, sites, and staff training. The mobile launchers that had been developed under General Dornberger were working as planned, and it took only about 30 minutes to set the rocket onto a launch platform, which could be as small as 70 square feet. The liquid oxygen was delivered by a tanker truck and the missile fueled as quickly as possible, since every minute of delay reduced the range of the weapon due to evaporation of this critical ingredient. Because the launch area was so small and the preparation time so short, camouflage-painted missiles could be fired from small roads passing through forested land with little fear of detection by Allied air patrols. There was a steep learning curve for the SS teams tasked with preparing and launching the missiles, and many of von Braun’s trips were to run training sessions for launch crews in Bavaria and Poland.

  Wernher was struggling to maintain control of his far-flung operations. He sent his younger brother, Magnus, a chemical engineer, to the Mittelwerk, where he would supervise the assembly of the control units for the steering vanes. The goal was to give him another trustworthy window into operations at the factory. Wernher was simply to busy to be there often enough to be sanguine about quality control. Roughly two dozen completed V-2s were leaving the Mittelwerk each day by rail, and he wanted every one to be perfect. He had hoped that the redesign work done in June and July would drastically reduce the failure rate, but judging by the news from Group South, there was still room for improvement.

  Dornberger’s reassignment had for all intents and purposes left Wernher von Braun in charge of Peenemünde-East. Despite the increased workload, von Braun’s schedule still put him on the road much of the time. He had a regular circuit, traveling overland, rather than by plane, to avoid Allied fighters. He visited launch sites in Blitzna (Poland) or Oetzal (Bavaria), took the test results back to Peenemünde, reviewed design modifications, and then delivered the revisions to Albin Sawatski, Arthur Rudolph, and the Quality Control team at the Mittelwerk.

  Both quality control and factory output had improved, but they appeared to have reached the limits of the production system. The production target for the Mittelwerk was 1,000 rockets per month, but their output was unlikely to exceed the current 600-700 units per month despite running 24-hour shifts and pushing the staff to their limits. Although output might be increased by taking over areas of the Mittelwerk being used by the Luftwaffe for jet engine and V-1 production, such a move would be politically difficult, and in any case they would still be faced with labor, material, and fuel shortages. The failure rate remained disconcertingly high, despite the many design changes von Braun’s team had made to date. Reports of sabotage continued to reach him, but Sawatski had assured him that it was a problem that Rudolph and the SS would deal with decisively.

  He continued to work on the Wasserfall project whenever possible, and the July and August air raids provided incentive to get the anti-aircraft rockets operational. Problems remained with steering and guidance, but it was only a matter of time before they solved them. The question was, would they have enough time? In September, he had presented a proposal that might buy them more time. The idea was to put mobile V-2 launchers in submersible cannisters and tow them across the Atlantic by U-boats. Once in position, the cannisters would surface, to launch rockets targeting major US cities. Preliminary testing had already been completed, and the project was given the green light to continue development.

  Morale and motivation was a concern for staff working long hours and juggling multiple complex projects. Funds were tight, so bonuses weren’t an option, but Wernher gave rewards, citations, and medals to key personnel. Unless he could keep everyone focused and productive, the Fatherland would be in serious trouble. The only way to secure a just peace was to show that Germany possessed a suite of weapons against which Allied forces had no defense.

  By October, there were daily launches targeting London, with additional strikes on Antwerp and Paris. V-2 production had stabilized at just over 600 units per month, and at the same time, Wernher had managed to keep Wasserfall, the anti-aircraft rocket project, advancing rapidly. Innovations adapted from the preliminary A-10 design were underway, designed to increase the range of the V-2 so that even if German forces retreated further, it would still be possible to strike important Allied targets like London. Wernher still maintained that given sufficient time and resources, New York City was within reach, if not with the A-10 then using submarine-towed V-2 launchers. A prototype towable launcher was already being constructed at Stettin, with the goal of having the project operational by March 1945.

  On 9 December, Walter Dornberger and Hans Kammler were guests of honor in Schloss Varlar, a grand stone castle in the forest near Osterwick, Germany. The festivities were hosted by Albert Speer, who had spent the day with them visiting V-2 launch sites. In preparation, the SS had set up mobile V-2 launchers in the forested land around the castle. At predetermined points in the evening program of events, the lights in the dining hall were turned out so that the guests could marvel at the thundering roar and brilliant light show that accompanied a rocket’s lift-off. Hitler was delighted with the progress of the V-2 program, and on Hitler’s orders, Speer awarded Dornberger the Knights Cross of the War Merit Cross with Swords, the highest honor Nazi Germany could bestow. It was awarded only in cases of extreme bravery in combat or heroic military leadership.

  Dornberger was not the only designated recipient. Wernher von Braun and Albin Sawatski had also been designated as recipients, but their schedules made i
t impossible for them to attend the ceremony. Wernher and Albin would receive their awards at a second celebration held in Peenemünde on 16 December 1944. It was a gala event with everyone in uniform or dressed in their finest, in a lavish display of Nazi power and influence. The recognition given to Dornberger, Sawatski, and von Braun acknowledged the importance of the entire rocket team to the war effort.

  Wernher wore his finest suit, and Dornberger, seated at his side, was in full uniform with his medals on display. There were illustrated place cards for the festive dinner. These cards were passed around at the dinner table so that everyone could have a good laugh. Wernher’s showed him cooking his usual eggs and bacon breakfast with reflected sunlight, while Dornberger’s had him shooting a stag at point-blank range. The card for Albin Sawatski showed slave laborers pulling his car out of a ditch, and the card for Georg Rickhey, the general manager for the Mittlewerk, depicted bent-over slaves hauling a V-2 out of a tunnel while Georg, in his usual pinstriped suit, looked on proudly. This was the only acknowledgment of the slave laborers who made their triumphs and awards possible — as sources of levity rather than concern.

  The mood was ebullient, and it promised to be the most festive Christmas season in recent memory for Wernher von Braun. His list of titles already included Vice President, SS-Sturmbannführer, Baron, Doctor, and Professor, and the newspapers were reporting that V-2 attacks were wreaking havoc and demoralizing the British. But the accolades just kept coming. This would be Wernher’s second War Merit Cross, but there were several different grades, and the Knight’s Cross with Swords was the most prestigious. Only 118 were ever awarded, and Wernher was beaming with pride as the official photographer took photos throughout the dinner and the ceremony that followed.

  All at the party knew that a major offensive had begun earlier that day. It was a sudden and massive attack designed to give the Allies a defeat so disastrous that they would accept an armistice under Germany’s terms. Army and SS troops had already broken through the Allied lines at the Ardennes Forest, and what the Allied forces would call the Battle of the Bulge was off to a great start, from the German perspective. The plan was for German forces to sweep around to the west of the Allied front lines to seize the port of Antwerp. Hundreds of thousands of Allied troops would be encircled, trapped, and forced to surrender. The V-2 rockets launches over the last ten days had prepared the way for the Nazi advance.

  Wernher was in his element, shaking hands and accepting lavish praise and congratulations. His funding was secure, the V-2s were flying, and Germany’s enemies were in retreat. It seemed like Hitler would once again mastermind a stunning victory. Toasts were made far into the night as the radio reports continued to bring only good news. It was a moment to savor, and the rocket team enjoyed it immensely. While they celebrated, a V-2 struck the Rex Cinema in Antwerp. It killed 567 people and injured hundreds more, making it the deadliest V-2 strike of the war.

  Wernher was well aware that the aftermath of the Normandy invasion had been a serious setback for Germany. He had already reviewed plans to relocate his team to an underground facility in central Germany if the Russian forces got too close. But that was only one possible future. Germany had lost the last war, but with superior weapons, there was still time to win this one.

  Wernher was proud of his team and of their role in saving the Fatherland. Engineering teams with softer hearts or flagging faith in the Reich might have slacked off, but the Peenemünders hadn’t complained when he increased their work hours and drove them seven days a week. Key team members were nominated for the War Service Cross. Foreign newspaper articles and photographs of the devastation produced by V-2s striking England and Holland were prominently displayed in the offices and hallways, along with cartoons showing their muscular missiles as national heroes. The Peenemünders were an isolated community that had continued to perform while enduring massive bombing attacks, supply shortages, and production setbacks. They reacted like a medieval city under siege, hunkering down and doing their best.

  There was still a shortage of skilled labor on the assembly line. The round-the-clock 12-hour shifts burned through laborers relatively quickly, and replacements were continually being supplied by Dora’s satellite camps and by Buchenwald, as per his agreement with Commandant Pister. A close eye was kept on Little Camp, as other concentration camps routed their excess prisoners through Buchenwald for evaluation. The labor reports from Rudolph’s office indicated that after a decline in the death rate over the summer, it was again climbing. This was troubling, as training a new worker slowed the production line. However, given the poor rations, executions for shoddy workmanship or sabotage, and the merciless work schedules, there was little to be done about it. Total War came at a high cost.

  The festive Christmas mood at Peenemünde continued through the week following the awards ceremony. Wernher heard nothing but good news about the advance of Nazi ground forces, the surrender of Allied troops, and how the offensive had completely surprised the Allies. When he joined the other Peenemünders to sing Christmas carols, he sang with confidence and optimism. He knew that by the end of December, more than 1,500 V-2s would have struck London and Antwerp, with additional launches targeting Liege, Paris, Lille, Ipswich, and other population centers. Between that rain of fire and the hammer blows of the Ardennes offensive, the British and Americans would surely welcome an armistice on Germany’s terms.

  102 Although decades later von Braun said that he regretted the use of his rockets as weapons, others spoke of champagne toasts and bold talk of his team saving the Fatherland.

  CHAPTER 13

  Into the Storm

  AS THE SOMBER NEW YEAR receded into the past, Fred continued his daily routine, chatting with Ed and Stan, writing letters that were never answered, playing cards, and trying to keep warm. As he regained some strength, he started taking turns in the kitchen and helping with light chores around the barracks. Keeping busy helped take his mind off of how incredibly hungry he was. At the start of the New Year, rations had been further reduced — Fred received one-sixth of a Red Cross parcel each week, and any potatoes provided by the Germans were mushy and rotten. At mealtimes, everyone contributed from their meager supplies, and when Fred took his turn as a cook, it was a struggle to make a palatable meal.

  The POWs had started to worry that if the Russians approached, the German High Command might order their execution. The daily discussions in the barracks usually focused on food, recipes, and girls (in that order), but now included various “what if” scenarios. This was a subject Fred felt strongly about, so strongly that he overcame his usual reticence. He said there was only one thing to be done if they found themselves facing execution: they should scatter and rush the guards. If even one person could get his hands on a weapon, it would provide a chance to exact some payback, if not clear a path for an escape. There was no way he was going to go meekly, like a lamb to the slaughter. It was a convincing argument, and there was general agreement that it was the best they could do. Meanwhile, as rumors continued to circulate about the advance of Russian troops, Fred continued to brave the cold each day to do a few laps on the perimeter circuit. He hoped it would be useful in an evacuation, but it would also help if everyone had to charge the guards because an execution seemed imminent.

  Each evening, the men in the barracks gathered in the kitchen as word was passed from the canaries concerning the status of the war. In early January, Fred learned that the German offensive had stalled.103 This was great news, but it was followed by even better news — the German troops had begun a steady retreat that rapidly progressed to a rout. Fred’s main concern now was how the news (if repeated by the Nazi media) would be received by the camp administration.

  Rumors about an evacuation were circulating, and everyone was preparing just in case the rumors proved to be true. Fred extended his perimeter circuits to improve his conditioning, and at times, he was part of a crowd. He was told to keep his personal items stowed so he could move out on short
notice, but he really had nothing other than his dogtags and his metal Kriegie badge. On his daily walks, he kept his eyes peeled for scraps of cloth, loose plain papers, or newspapers that could be stuffed in pockets, down his pant legs, or inside his jacket to add insulation. If they had to march, it was certainly going to be cold. He saw other POWs building wagon-sleds from small planks and wooden boxes, to make it easier to bring food and medical supplies.

  Fred, good with his hands, helped with some of these projects. He was surprised to see hidden food, money, radios, film, cameras, tools, fake and real IDs, maps, and so forth retrieved from hiding places all over the camp. Some of the stuff had been buried in now-frozen ground, and that explained why concerned POWs were building small fires in odd locations, not for warmth but to thaw the surface below.

  All these steps were taken very cautiously to avoid alerting or alarming the camp administration, since nobody knew how they would react if they saw the POWs preparing to leave. They might think there was a mass escape planned, and an overreaction would be potentially dangerous.

  On 18 January 45, with the Russian frontline troops less than 50 miles away, Fred wrote:

  Dear Lu,

  I am still anxiously awaiting the arrival of your first letter. It is about eight months since I last heard from you and this waiting to hear whether you are all OK and what is going on is really rough. There is no limit to the amount of letters we can receive so I’ll be expecting plenty of mail when they start coming. There is nothing to say from this end except that I am well and with with the work I am doing the time is passing as quickly as it can be expected to in a place like this. . . .

  Give my love to all and don’t you or Betty forget about those letters.