On 13 April, Fred was stunned to hear that President Roosevelt had died. It infuriated him that the camp guards were celebrating his death. For some reason, the Germans thought that Roosevelt was equally detested by the Allied military, and they started putting up posters in English imploring POWs to let bygones be bygones and to take up arms with the Germans against the advancing Russian hordes. If Fred hadn’t been so tired and hungry, he would have been amused. The Germans had to be getting desperate and delusional! He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he hoped it meant the war was almost over.
Things were definitely changing. The internal structure of the camp seemed to be breaking down under the press of additional prisoners. Fences between compounds were disappearing, and the guards weren’t doing anything to replace them. The guards seemed really unsettled when, within a week after Roosevelt’s death, the daily bombing runs suddenly stopped. The Germans feared the worst, and a guard offered to help Fred escape if he could accompany him to America. The guard certainly didn’t want to stay in the camp any longer — it was a filthy, reeking, overcrowded mass of near-starved prisoners living in squalor. There were too many to feed, and it was becoming clear that there were too few guards to maintain control as the prisoners grew increasingly restive.
Word was spread that LtC. Clark had ordered the men to prepare to evacuate the camp, and that they would be marching south in a few days. But nothing came of it, and Fred stayed put.122 Everyone in the camp, guards and prisoners alike, seemed to be holding their breath. When Fred awakened on the morning of 29 April, he could hear tanks and other armored vehicles approaching, but he didn’t know if the equipment was American or German. Guns were firing in the distance.
At around 0800, he was startled to see SS troops entering the camp. Fearing the worst, he moved to a position where he could see what they were up to. To his surprise, they were grabbing the guards and pushing them toward the gate. The guards were refusing to go. Surprise turned to amazement when the SS troops responded by shooting the Army guards and throwing grenades into their barracks. The guards assumed defensive positions and returned fire, and a small battle ensued. It ended when the SS personnel rushed back out of the camp. Fred had no idea where they were going, but it was a relief to see them leave.
At 0945, Fred could hear machine guns firing and see fighter planes approaching. Two fighters strafed the camp, blowing apart a guard tower. As they made another run, Fred dove into a nearby slit trench while bullets zinged around the camp. Fred, determined not to die as an accidental casualty, used his hands to make the slit trench a little deeper. When the planes moved off, Fred emerged to the sound of approaching tanks. When they came into view, and he saw the white US Army symbols, he felt a tremendous rush of relief. After a brief pause, a tank rolled forward and flattened the main gate. Jeeps then entered and stopped before a small contingent of unarmed guards and senior camp administrators. After an informal surrender, the German guards waited patiently while guards from other areas of the camp joined them, tossing their weapons in a pile, and waiting for instructions. The guards were soon loaded into trucks and taken away. Fred hoped they would enjoy their POW experience as much as he had.
The tanks and jeeps moved forward, the tanks mowing down the gates between the compounds as rejoicing prisoners poured out of the barracks and ran to meet them. It was pandemonium. Men were cheering, shouting, and crying, all at the same time. The noise peaked when the American flag was raised on the Moosburg flagpole, and again when it was raised on the camp flagstaff.
Fred was caught up in the general mood, pressed into the surging mass of men who were enthusiastically cheering their liberators. The long ordeal was finally over, and in many ways, it seemed unreal. His emotions seemed beyond his control. He was elated at being liberated, then angry at the Germans, then worried about the future. Sure, he had survived, but how could he ever explain any of this to Lucille, Betty, or anyone else in his family? And how could he leave Europe without knowing who had betrayed him and what had happened to his French “family,” the Raulins?
Looking out over the sea of prisoners toward the entrance, he realized that the front gate had been repaired, but it was closed, and American guards were posted. Fred found that disconcerting. When, exactly, were they going to leave this hell-hole?
116 At this stage of the war, Stalag VIIA had become the primary collecting point for evacuees from POW camps in what had been the German-occupied territories. On 25 January 1945, before the arrival of the men from Stalag Luft III, the prisoner population was estimated to be 77,249. It had been designed to hold a maximum of 12,000 POWs.
117 To the west of this compound was a much larger compound that held POWs from Greece, Serbia, Poland, Italy, France, and Britain. Russian officers and Russian enlisted men had their own, separate, compounds in the southern portion of the camp.
118 As of 10 February, an estimated 3,314 British/Commonwealth POWs and 1,784 American POWs were assigned to work details.
119 The Swiss delegation provided marked freight cars for delivering food to the camp, but the allocation per prisoner averaged only 1,000 calories per day, less than half of what was needed.
120 For the rest of his life, Fred could always guess the time with uncanny accuracy.
121 The men were Russ McMains (IA), Ambrose G. King, Jr. (NY), Edward Lahiff (OR), Joseph Kennedy (VT), John T. Ryan (NY), Warren E. Tupper (MA), Chastin Bowen* (CA), Ernest Greer (OK), Merle A. Troup (PA), Roy Jos. Horrigan* (LA), Nelson C. Clairmont (NY), Bernard Scharf* (MN), James Zeiser* (OH), Michael A. Petrich* (CA), George Friedman (NY), Carl Peterson (MN), Ben Tennant (WV), Frank Sullivan (IL), Albert “Gunner” Griffre (NY), Ervin Roberts (MI), Floyd Green (DC), Charles “Chuck” Arnold (PA), Stanley K. Paxton* (CA), Gilbert R. Lish (ID), John H. Hawk (KS), James F. Gillett (IA), Robert E. Honig* (IA), Harold Barchman (IA), Perry L Curtis (MI), Dwayne Blackman (IA), Raymond B. Orogco (CA), George Friedman (NY) and Ledford A. Walling (SC). Those with asterisks were fellow Buchenwald airmen.
122 Unbeknownst to the camp administration, a deal brokered by the Swiss had been struck between the Allies and Germany. Under the terms of the agreement, no further POW movements would be ordered. In return, liberated POWs would not be returned to active military service. LtC. Clark heard about the agreement in a BBC radio broadcast. When ordered to evacuate, he refused, advising the guards to check with their superiors. The assembly order was not mentioned again.
CHAPTER 15
A Strategic Retreat
AS THE GERMAN BREAKOUT INTO Allied territories stalled, Hitler and Speer decided that winning the war, or at least negotiating a favorable armistice, would now depend on their “secret weapons” programs such as the V-2, jet aircraft, and anti-aircraft rockets. Himmler continued to maneuver for increased control over these programs, highlighting his abilities to increase efficiency and provide security, while Göring’s influence continued to wane as the Luftwaffe proved unable to stop Allied air strikes. So in early 1945, a number of organizational changes were made.
On 15 January 1945, Speer nationalized all aspects of rocket production and placed them under the control of a team known as Working Staff Dornberger, with General Dornberger as chairman. Two weeks later, SS-General Kammler was given control of military and civilian projects for the Luftwaffe. Dornberger was appointed as Kammler’s deputy, and Working Staff Dornberger would report to the SS rather than the Army. To consolidate control over all aspects of production, all key manufacturing work would henceforth be done in the Nordhausen/Mittelwerk area of central Germany.
In the second half of January, everyone at Peenemünde knew that the Russians were coming. The front line was only 30 miles away, and if German defenses collapsed, Peenemünde would quickly be overrun. Wernher felt that the obvious solution was to pack up and move to a more protected location, such as the Nordhausen area where Dornberger was already based. But when he brought this up at a staff meeting, the local Army commander and the head of the Gestapo at Peenemünde we
re outraged, all but accusing him of cowardice. They had been adamant that the engineers must stay in place and on task to the bitter end. Any further discussion of leaving Peenemünde would be considered treasonous. Wernher thought this was just bluster, but he soon learned how serious they were. When Gestapo spies heard several of his engineers talking about abandoning Peenemünde, their bodies were hung around the facility with signs around their necks. The signs warned that leaving your post was not an option.
Wernher thought a stand-to-the-last-man policy was ludicrous. His team was responsible for producing the weapons Germany needed to defeat its enemies, and they needed time and focus to do that. How could they succeed if the Gestapo kept hanging his engineers? They were doing the Russians’ work for them. Things were clearly getting out of hand, but it would not be safe to discuss potential solutions anywhere on the property — security was too tight and the Gestapo had ears everywhere. So he quietly passed the word to key personnel that there would be a clandestine meeting at the Inselhof Hotel in Zinnowitz, a seaside community 12 miles southeast of Peenemünde. Key deputies attended: Ernst Steinhoff, Eberhard Rees, Enrst Stuhlinger, and Werner Gengelback, with Wernher’s secretary, Dorette Kerstein, present to take notes. Just getting to the meeting was difficult and potentially dangerous, and they had to leave separately with impeccable alibis.
Wernher chaired the meeting as usual and discussed the problem in blunt terms. The Fatherland was fighting for its life, and their projects could turn the tide of the war. But the Army and the Gestapo were making it impossible for them to reach their goals. The Russians were on their way, but they couldn’t leave. He had only been able to come up with three alternatives.
The first option was to obey orders, sit tight, and wait for the Russians to arrive and execute or imprison them. If that happened, Germany would lose its best hope for victory, and the Russians would gain equipment and records they could use to conquer the western world. The second option was to find a way to convince somebody in higher authority, like Speer, that they should be relocated for the good of the Reich. The only other option he could see was to surrender en masse to the Allies before the Russians got there. Wernher thought the Americans would be the best choice, as none of V-2 missiles had been launched against US targets. Everyone agreed that the first option was unacceptable, the second unlikely, and the third logical but impractical. The only enemy forces nearby were Russian, and even if American forces had been close, any attempt to contact them would soon be detected by the Gestapo, and they would all be shot as deserters. It was a very depressing meeting, as no solutions were found to their dilemma.
While the core team evaluated their options should Germany’s forces continue to give ground, design and testing continued at Peenemünde. On 24 January, they launched an A-4b equipped with wings as well as the standard tail fins. This launch was related to three of the projects Wernher was juggling simultaneously. First and foremost, it would verify that the design modification would increase the tactical range of the V-2 — something that would permit the bombardment of London to continue, even if the Russians occupied Peenemünde. Second, if successful, the design could form the basis for a manned rocket plane capable of launching air-to-air or air-to-ground missiles that the Luftwaffe was already testing. Third, the A-4b was originally intended to be the first stage of the multi-stage A-10 intercontinental missile that the Peenemünde group called “the New York Rocket.” After 1942, when Hitler became enamored of the rocket program, he had a massive launch bunker built in France for A-10 rockets that would target the east coast of the US. Unfortunately, Wernher’s team had become bogged down in the V-2 design modifications, impeding progress on the A-10. The project was still worth pursuing — if the V-2s did their job, he would have the time to push the A-10 to completion. He was delighted when the launch and trajectory went exactly as planned, and although one of the wings peeled away on reentering the upper atmosphere — some structural improvements would be needed to handle those forces — he considered the test to be a resounding success.
Wernher still hadn’t solved the problem of how to avoid the approaching Russians, and everyone remained anxious about the future. But then he received orders to attend a committee meeting with SS-General Kammler on 29-30 January at the Mittelwerk to discuss the advanced weapons projects. Wernher attended as Technical Director of Elektromechanishewerk (EW) GmbH,123 head of the Committee for Final Acceptance in the A-4 Special Committee, and head of the Quality Control Group for manufacturing at the Mittelwerk. Because he was uncertain as to how the meeting with Kammler would go, he wore his full SS-sturmbannführer uniform with the Knight’s Cross around his neck.
At the meeting, he was surprised to learn that his authority and responsibilities were expanding further. Kammler commended his work to date and appointed him Technical Director of the newly created Central Construction Development Cooperative at Mittelbau (CCDC-Mittelbau). The CCDC would coordinate the activities of the approximately 30 firms involved in producing the components for advanced weapons. Wernher was flattered and gratified — this was a great honor, placing him in a key position and giving him much more authority. He would be responsible not only for overseeing the assembly and testing of V-2s, including the A-4b, but also the submarine-mobile launching system, the V-1 flying bomb, the Taifun anti-aircraft rocket, the Orkun air-to-air rocket, and the Wasserfall guided missile. These were to be produced at newly constructed underground facilities, part of the Bauvorhaben X complex.
The very best news of all soon followed: Wernher was ordered to shift all remaining EW GmbH operations from Peenemünde to Bleicherode, a small community conveniently close to the Mittelwerk and the new satellite facilities. Bleicherode, which was 248 miles from Peenemünde, would henceforth be the epicenter of CCDC-Mittelbau. This was far from the front lines — Russian or American — and safely in the heart of Germany.
When he returned to Peenemünde, his world was considerably brighter, and he started making plans to relocate his staff and equipment. When they got wind of this, the Army commander and the Gestapo chief stormed into his office demanding an explanation and making dire threats. Wernher called Kammler’s office, and later that day (1 February 1945), a terse directive from SS-General Kammler confirmed Wernher’s authority and told the Army and Gestapo to get out of his way.
On 3 February, Wernher held the final planning meeting with his deputies. There were 4,325 staff at Peenemünde involved with missile design, production, and testing. He considered roughly 1,200 of them nonessential, and he would leave them behind to destroy records and equipment before they fell to the Russians. Using his newfound authority, backed by SS-General Kammler’s clout, Wernher arranged to have a train waiting at the station and a truck convoy ready to roll as soon as the rest of the staff were ready to leave.
The next two weeks were occupied packing up the important documents, which went into color-coded crates. Official passes were printed in large quantities because SS roadblocks and security checks were everywhere, and Wernher wanted nothing to slow their departure — he wanted to get away from the Russians as quickly as possible. As ordered, the passes were to authorize the passage of personnel and equipment for BZBV, because Beauftragter zur besonderen Verwendung Heer (Commissioner for Special Duties - Army) was General Dornberger’s official title).
Due to an error at the printer, the papers arrived filled out, stamped, and officially approved in the name of VZBV. When he saw the error, Wernher felt a moment of panic — there was no time to get corrected paperwork through the pipeline. But on reflection, he realized that it didn’t really matter. After all, BZBV was a secret organization that a lowly SS officer at a road block would never have heard of, so the difference between BZBV and VZBV was meaningless as long as the paperwork was in order. He quickly made up an alternative definition that sounded convincing — Vorhaben zur besonderen Verwendung (Project for Special Disposition) — and had all of the crates prominently labeled VZBV to match the clearance documentat
ion.
When the first train departed, it carried 525 key members of the rocket team, their families, and boxcars filled with documents. To make sure they moved quickly through security checks, Wernher wore his SS uniform and his Knights Cross, and pulled rank as needed. The train was headed to the village of Bleicherode, close to the opulent ski resort community of Bad Sachsa where General Dornberger’s headquarters was located. Bleicherode was also close to the Mittelwerk and to the newer underground facilities of the Bauvorhaben X complex; all were within a 25-mile radius.
The 360 miles between Peenemünde and Bleicherode passed without incident, although progress was probably slower than anyone would have liked. Once in Bleicherode, Wernher took over the luxurious home of a Jewish factory owner who had prudently opted to leave Germany in 1933, around the time that Hitler rose to power. Wernher’s new headquarters, the former administration building for a mining company, was only 12.5 miles from the Mittelwerk.
A total of 264 V-2s were launched from Peenemünde. The last two headed for London on 19 February 1945. Eight days later, Wernher returned to Peenemünde for the last time, to brief the staff who had yet to move as to what awaited them. Some would be assigned to the test sites set up for each of the projects he was responsible for, while others would work at the Mittelwerk, overseeing production, or in Bleicherode assisting with design improvements. The nonessential employees were already aware of their responsibilities. When the Russians occupied the complex, they would find the staff gone, the paperwork burned, and the launch pads demolished.
The Mittelwerk was now a major facility in every sense of the term. There were 2,000 civilian workers overseeing thousands of slave laborers who worked 12-hour shifts day and night. There were over 40,000 concentration camp prisoners in Dora and its satellite labor camps. The best known of these satellite camps were Lager Ellrich, Lager Harzungen, and Lager Rottleberode, but there were 35 other labor camps linked to Dora, providing laborers for the SS construction units involved in the expansion of the Bauvorhaben complex.
Betrayed: Secrecy, Lies, and Consequences Page 24
