Churchill's Ace (Epic War Series Book 1)

by Greg M. Sheehan

  “I understand.”

  * * *

  Colonel Steckel was right about General Ahrent. The General’s office had a picture on his desk of him shaking hands with Adolf Hitler. However, he seemed to be rather pleased to meet Wolf. “Ah, Major Kruger... a wonderful result escaping from the clutches of the RAF. I understand your wingman didn’t make it. An unfortunate conclusion to his career. But no one can predict what will happen in war. This is why we must press on, for the glory and honor of the Third Reich. Air Marshal Goering phoned me personally and told me you had requested to fly the new jet. What a marvelous idea. I understand you have received one of our country’s highest honors.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “May I see it?” Wolf hesitated and pulled it out of his uniform pocket. He gave it to the General Ahrent. “Very impressive. Major you may want to have this framed or, at least, deposit it in a place of safekeeping, rather than the pocket of your uniform.”

  “General much has happened the last two days. I haven’t had time to even shower.”

  “But of course. I’ll have you shown to your private quarters.”

  “Sir I would like to see it... the jet.”

  “Right now? I thought you were tired.”

  “Not that tired, sir.”

  They left the office and entered the hangar where two Me 262 jets stood side by side. Wolf looked at the jets and was mesmerized. They were sleek and beautiful. For a second he forgot that he was there to steal of one of them.

  His daydreaming was broken when he heard the familiar voice of Zigfried. Colonel Steckel could see the tension in the air. He was afraid that Wolf would kill the little Nazi bastard here and now. Colonel Steckel said, “Captain Bockler you have my deepest condolences for the death of your father.”

  Zigfried gave Colonel Steckel a condescending look. “Why thank you, Colonel.”

  Colonel Steckel looked at Wolf. “Major Kruger, Doctor Bockler was killed in a spectacular and devious attack on the Fuhrer’s gallery on the Wilhelmstrasse. The dastardly deed was done on the grand opening night. A single Mosquito slipped into Berlin and did it.”

  Zigfried said flatly, “Colonel, forgive me, but how do you know that it was a Mosquito?

  Colonel Steckel smiled. “Because that is the only plane the RAF has that can fly that far and fast.”

  General Ahrent broke in, “The Mosquito won’t stand up to our new jets. Nothing will.”

  Zigfried smirked when he said to Wolf. “It must have been a miracle, you surviving after getting shot down.”

  “The circumstances were strange, to say the least.”

  “You’ll have to tell me about it sometime; I’m sure it’s fascinating.”

  Wolf took a step toward Zigfried and General Ahern stepped between them. “I was warned about this. Let me make myself very clear to the both of you. Both of you are at Rechlin because you are the best pilots in the Luftwaffe. It is your duty to test the Me 262, so we can get it into full production. You will do it professionally and quickly. After that, I don’t care if you beat each other with a wrench. But gentlemen, I’d suggest you save the fighting for the RAF. Do both of you understand? I will not say this again.”

  Zigfried smirked, “General, I will do my duty for the Third Reich.”

  “Major,” said General Ahrent.

  “General, you will not have any problems with me.”

  “Fine... dismissed.

  * * *

  The next morning, the two Me 262 jets were prepped and waiting for Zigfried and Wolf. Rudi Waltzer was still getting over the shock of finding out the previous night that Wolf Kruger was not only alive but had arrived in Rechlin to test one of the Me 262 jets. Now, both Zigfried and Wolf who were bitter enemies stood an arm’s length apart. Rudi knew the score with the two pilots. Only one of them was going to survive the war. Rudi shook his head and thought, how foolish General Ahrent was. Doesn’t he realize what is going to happen? Rudi put his best face on. “Today you will be taking them up with the drop tanks, to see how the jet handles with them on.”

  “Are they loaded?” asked Wolf.

  “No,” replied Rudi.

  “What about the cannons in the nose?”

  “Negative.”

  Wolf and Zigfried taxied out onto the runway in Me 262’s and took off. Wolf had been briefed by Rudi on the basics of the jet, and he knew the Me 262 required more runway to lift off. Once airborne, Wolf checked out the controls. It was pretty much business as usual as far as Wolf was concerned...until he opened the throttle. The acceleration from the twin jet engines was tremendous. Soon, he had the Me 262 flying at its top speed of 540 mph. The jet didn’t exactly handle like a Spitfire at that speed. But there was nothing in the air that could catch it or run away from it.

  As Wolf was putting the Me 262 thru some basic maneuvers, he saw Zigfried approach him from behind. Empty guns or not Wolf banked left and headed for the deck. Zigfried followed, and Wolf pulled up and slowed down. Zigfried overshot him and Wolf got on his tail. Zigfried tried to shake him, but it was hopeless.

  Wolf matched every move Zigfried made. Wolf wished that the nose cannons of his Me 262 were loaded. If they were, he would have shot Zigfried out of the sky. Of course, that would have been the end of him too. Without the drop tanks, he didn’t have enough fuel to reach the Channel much less England. He would have to bide his time for a little longer.

  After they both had landed and the Me 262s were parked on the tarmac, Wolf walked past Zigfried. His hate for the Nazi pilot was growing by the minute. Zigfried looked over at him and said, “You’re a traitor just like your parents...dead parents.

  Wolf wheeled around and punched Zigfried in the face. He regretted it as soon as he did it. It was obvious that Zigfried had baited him. But it felt good to see the Zigfried sprawled across the tarmac. Rudi got between them as General Ahrent entered the hangar. General Ahrent said. “Captain Bockler what happened?” Zigfried saluted General Ahrent and left the hangar. “Lieutenant Waltzer, what is going on?”

  “Nothing General, I believe Captain Bockler slipped on the runway. He’s probably tired. Tomorrow the jets will be fully armed, and the drop tanks will be topped off. Major Kruger and Captain Bockler are to push the Me 262 to its limits.”

  General Ahrent said, “Major Kruger is that what happened?”

  “Good evening sir.” Wolf saluted and left the hangar.

  General Ahrent wasn’t amused. He said to Rudi, “They’re both prima donnas. I’d sack both of them if they weren’t such good pilots.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Churchill’s War Rooms

  At the same time, Major Hollenby made his way down the three flights of stairs and entered Churchill’s War Rooms. He took off an overcoat that was wet from an early September storm. He hung it up in the reception area and was soon whisked into Winston’s mini-office. His stomach was tied up in knots. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be for someone in his position.

  The intelligence game was a battle of wits against your enemy. It was innocuous and cerebral as if you were playing your counterpart in a game of bridge or poker. Granted that game was contested at the highest level and not played in some smoke-filled back room. What the patrons and so-called experts who pushed the chess pieces, pawns or not on the game board forgot at the most inappropriate time, was that the intelligence game could be deadly.

  When that happened, everyone would take a step back and search for an answer as to what went wrong. Satisfied the handlers would send their agents and pawns back out into the cold, and the entire process would start again.

  Winston could tell from the demeanor on Major Hollenby’s face that something was wrong...and that it concerned Wolf. “Major how are things?”

  “I’ve had a bit of troubling news concerning the Wolf Kruger affair.”

  “So is that now, what we are calling it?”

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t know what else to refer to it as. It’s a most unusual operation.”

&nb
sp; “Go on.”

  “There is reason to believe that Wolf Kruger’s cover may have gone up in smoke.”

  Winston chomped down on a cigar to calm himself down. “Tell me that isn’t so.”

  “It seems there was a double agent milling about RAF headquarters. He was to be arrested and brought in but, unfortunately, disappeared into the bowels of London. Heaven knows where he is now. We, of course, thought he was on our side, but that has been disproven much to the embarrassment of the SIS.”

  “How do you know; he would be looking or even remotely interested in a pilot?”

  “Prime Minister, who knows what the damn Jerries are really up to.”

  “This is more than disconcerting. You bloody well run the SIS.”

  “That’s the truth. We do our best, but it isn’t a linear equation. The unexpected is around every corner. Among other things, Captain Kruger’s service record is now missing. Anyone who sees that in Berlin will be on to Captain Kruger almost immediately. His life's in danger.”

  “Damn well pull him out. And do it now, before the Gestapo comes calling.”

  “That’s impossible. We have no way to warn him, much less get him out of Rechlin. The test facility is totally secure.”

  “How much time does he have, or do you know?”

  “Prime Minister, it is very difficult to say. The Luftwaffe and even the Gestapo suffer from the same organizational problems that plague most governmental departments, whether that would be here or in Germany. It could be some time before the file gets to the right person who sees fit to act on it.”

  “Major a young man who I must remind you, depended on us for sound judgment and discretion, appears to have been tossed overboard to swim not with the sharks, but the Gestapo.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So what are we to do? Light a candle at St. Paul’s Cathedral and wait for what will come, no matter how dreadful that may be?”

  “I’m afraid so. We will never see Captain Kruger again unless he flies the Me 262 out of there. At this point, since he has been gone for over a two weeks, and seems to have vanished from the face of the earth that looks highly unlikely.”

  “Major that wasn’t the news I was yearning to hear. Mind you, I don’t blame anyone for what has happened...but only myself. It is I who must live with the consequences, but it is the others who are close to Wolf, who will die a little each day.”

  Abwehr Headquarters Berlin

  The Abwehr was the intelligence arm of the German military. Its duty was the same as the SIS, its counterpart in England. The morning traffic came in from its operatives who were spread throughout Europe and the world for that matter. The traffic was hit and miss, and the operatives in the field could go weeks at a time before risking sending in coded radio messages. The preferred method was to contact their handler on a face to face basis. This wasn’t nearly as dangerous as one would think. There simply was no way for the other side to keep a 24 hour a day watch on numerous enemy operatives. And if they were unknown, then, of course, it didn’t matter.

  On this day, the urgent message came from England. The German operative risked everything to inform the Abwehr that the Luftwaffe’s greatest ace was a traitor and had been flying for the RAF. And now he was back in Germany.

  Once the message had been decoded the section chief said, “Get me the Luftwaffe Intelligence... hurry.” It took twenty minutes to get to the right person, and by that time the sun was rising. The section chief listened carefully and then said, “Contact Rechlin and put Major Kruger under house arrest. Do it immediately.” The section chief hung up the phone, and he said to no one in particular. “Major Kruger was very bold. Now he will be dealt with.”

  Luftwaffe Flight Testing Center Rechlin

  True to his word, flight engineer Lieutenant Rudi Waltzer had both Me 262’s fully armed and each jet had two large drop tanks under the pilot’s compartment. The jet engines of the ME 262s were idling and waiting for a pilot. Wolf was halfway up the roll away ladder and stepping into the cockpit of his jet when General Ahrent’s adjutant ran onto the tarmac. He was unarmed, and he yelled, “Stop him. He’s a traitor!”

  Rudi looked at Wolf with bewilderment. Wolf yelled back, “Traitor, that depends on who’s judging. And Zigfried, I killed your father. It was me in the Mosquito.” Wolf closed the canopy. He pushed the throttle forward and his jet roared down the runway.

  Zigfried lost time as a fuel truck was blocking his jet from taking off. Finally, it pulled out of his way. He yelled to Rudi, “I’ll shoot him down!” Zigfried rolled down the runway.

  Rudi had his hands on his hips. He said to General Ahrent’s adjutant. “So much for the jets. They both may be gone for good.”

  “Will Captain Bockler shoot him down?”

  “Maybe... if he’s very lucky and Major Kruger makes a mistake. Of course, there’s always the chance that Wolf will shoot him down.” That wouldn’t bother me a bit.

  The adjutant said, “You don’t seem very upset.”

  “What the hell do you want me to do? Besides Captain Bockler shot down Major Kruger, at least that was the rumour. Now I think it is true.”

  “Where is he going?”

  “Where do you think? England.”

  General Ahrent ran out to the runway. He was out of breath, and he doubled over as Wolf turned left and headed west. Zigfried was also approaching takeoff speed. “Major Kruger is a traitor! He must be stopped!”

  Rudi said flatly, “Captain Bockler is after him.”

  “Who is the better pilot?”

  Rudi smirked, “Major Kruger.”

  General Ahrent took his adjutant by the arm. “Come with me.”

  “General, what are we going to do?”

  “Scramble every fighter squadron between here and the French coast. If Major Kruger is successful, I will be shot and so will you.” The adjutant swallowed hard and ran toward General Ahrent’s office. General Ahrent asked Rudi, “Does he have enough fuel to reach England?”

  “No doubt.”

  “What if he has to dogfight his way through our forces, between here and over France?”

  “Then that would be a problem for Major Kruger.”

  “Lieutenant, where do your loyalties lie in this situation?”

  “General, I’m only a flight engineer, who has seen his two prized jets fly away. As for Wolf Kruger, a better man I have never known. The same can’t be said for Zigfried Bockler. That’s the truth. Will you have me shot now?”

  “Don’t be a fool, who else can I get to prepare the Me 262 for production.”

  “Can you get another one if theses don’t come back?”

  “Not for two months.”

  “That is bad.”

  * * *

  Wolf lifted the Me 262 quickly to 12,000 ft. and plotted a course to London. That course would take him straight over Amsterdam. The distance was 557 miles. That would mean a flight time of over 80 minutes. He knew the Luftwaffe would throw everything they had at him. If something went wrong and he had to bail out, or if he simply went down, chances were he would be captured, tortured and summarily executed.

  Now, where and when would the Luftwaffe come after him? Even though the Me 262 was capable of a top speed of 540 mph, Wolf held the wonder jet steady at 500 mph. This would conserve fuel, which would buy him time if he had to dogfight. Zigfried was no doubt clawing to get at him. Wolf pulled into a cloud bank and continued on. It wouldn’t be easy for Zigfried to find him in the heavy cloud cover. The Nazi pilot risked wasting time, fuel and most importantly mental concentration. That could play into Wolf’s favor down the line if Zigfried had the guts to catch him somewhere over the Channel.

  After 20 minutes Wolf and his Me 262 cleared Bremen. He took the jet up to 14,000 ft. and wasn’t surprised that he didn’t see any fighters from the surrounding airfields searching for them. He figured it would take time to notify the Luftwaffe bases and then get organized. Besides, how were they going to find a single plane in the
sky? His jet could out run anything they had. He simply had to avoid contact and any dogfighting.

  Behind him and on a general course to London was Zigfried. Zigfried decided on an altitude of 15000 ft. as he searched the horizon for his nemesis. With each passing minute, Wolf was heading for the safety of London and what would be the greatest coup in the history aviation warfare.

  If the Me 262 by some miracle was brought in safely and presented to the RAF as an early Christmas gift, the jet, and its engineering designs would change the future of the air war. But where was the traitor and would Zigfried be able to find him?

  Luftwaffe Flight Testing Center Rechlin

  General Ahrent poured over a map with his adjutant. Then the questions came. General Ahrent said, “How much time do we have?”

  “90 minutes at the most.”

  “Cruising speed in your opinion?”

  “General I assume Major Kruger will keep the jet’s speed close to five hundred miles per hour. He won’t want to push it too hard... until he has to.”

  “What are we going to do? As soon as we scramble our squadrons, if he is spotted it will already be too late. Major Kruger will simply accelerate and fly by.”

  “That is correct. However, there is one thing which may work. We scramble our fighters which are based on the French coast. We do it right now and have them form a picket line. All of them, every Me 109 and ME 110 we have. Major Kruger will have to take evasive action. Perhaps we will get lucky, and he will get shot down. This will also give us his exact position and Captain Bockler can be notified on the radio. If he is close enough, he may be able to engage Major Kruger over the Channel. If Captain Bockler eliminates Major Kruger, he will be able to land his jet at one of our airfields on the French coast. It could work. It has to work.”