Vengeance 10

by Joe Poyer

  The officer continued in this vein for some minutes before he snapped to attention, bowed once, and resumed his seat. The meeting broke up then, and as Bethwig lit a cigarette he noticed von Braun engaged in an intense conversation with Heydrich. He was about to join in when Dornberger sat down beside him. ‘You never listen to me, do you?’

  Bethwig glanced at him in surprise. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Dornberger shook his head angrily. ‘You put yourself under obligation to Reinhard Heydrich, head of the SD and reichsprotektor of Czechoslovakia, and then you insult him.’

  ‘Insult him? How?’

  ‘By not coming to this meeting, you damned fool! Then, by appearing in work clothes and taking a seat at the back of the room. If that is not insulting behaviour I do not know what is.’

  Bethwig grinned impulsively. ‘Do you think he deserves any better?’

  Dornberger hesitated, then smiled in return. ‘Of course not. But he is an extremely powerful man; and if you cross him, neither your position here nor your father’s influence will protect you. The concentration camps contain a good many people who thought they could snub high-ranking party members. Do you understand what I am telling you?’

  Bethwig did, and for a moment apprehension nudged at him. But he decided after brief reflection that he was safe enough from political manoeuvrings. Nevertheless, as it was worrying Dornberger, he decided to placate his boss. ‘All right, I’ll play the game. Tell me what to do.’

  Dornberger gave him a sceptical look. ‘I hope you mean what you say, Franz.’ He started to say something more, then thought better of it. ‘Heydrich is giving a reception this evening. I have to fly to Berlin in an hour, so he’ll be using my quarters. I want you at that reception, on your best behaviour, keeping an eye on Wernher. He is getting in over his head.

  ‘I should be back before the weekend. Fortunately, Heydrich will leave tomorrow for Wolfsschanze. There is a rumour the Führer is giving him a new position. No one knows for certain whether it is a promotion or a demotion.’

  Bethwig looked alarmed at that, and Dornberger clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Come now, if you wish to play the political game, you must accept setbacks as well as advantages. As far as I am concerned, nothing would please me more than to have that man lose interest in your project.’ Dornberger sighed and got to his feet. ‘Unfortunately, there seems to be little chance of that.’

  Bethwig, carefully dressed in his best suit, hurried across the windy common to Dornberger’s spacious bungalow. An armed SS guard opened the front door smartly, and Bethwig caught a glimpse of several others stationed about the house. The hall was filled with fellow scientists and high-ranking technical staff waiting in a subdued line. Many wives were present, and they seemed more lively, chattering among themselves, each grateful for a rare chance to show off pre-war finery.

  As the line moved forward, taking him into the living-room, he saw a row of SS officers, all resplendent in dress uniform, leading up to Heydrich. All officers above the rank of standartenführer, equivalent to colonel, were in the receiving line, those below were acting as serving staff. Even here there were armed SS troopers evident. Heydrich, at his most charming, was bending over the wrinkled hand of the wife of a Luftwaffe general officer, a shrill-voiced shrew whom Bethwig had encountered before. Heydrich said something to her, and she went into gales of laughter that cut off abruptly as he handed her on to Wernher von Braun who was the next in line.

  Von Braun murmured something to the woman, and she returned a frosty glance before stepping away. Not even standing to the right of Reinhard Heydrich made a civil servant acceptable to the wife of a Luftwaffe general officer.

  Bethwig shook hands with Heydrich when his turn came, and the reichsprotektor nodded. ‘We missed you at the meeting this afternoon. Fortunately, someone found you, I noticed. Perhaps we may talk later.’

  Bethwig returned a smile just as cold. ‘I am at your service, Excellency.’

  Von Braun gripped his hand and squeezed hard.

  ‘Why the hell did you do that?’ Bethwig demanded in surprise.

  ‘Keep your voice down.’ Von Braun grinned all the harder. ‘Because you are a jackass.’ Bethwig saw that the smile was fixed, and before he could retort von Braun had turned to greet the next guest. Puzzled, Bethwig stepped away from the reception line and snatched a drink from a passing tray. Turning slowly, he surveyed the room, counting four SS guards. He also noted that each SS officer carried a sidearm, whereas the army and air force officers present did not.

  The line was coming to an end; the lower ranking technicians were being sped through now. With the usual attention to status, the guests had timed their arrivals to engage in the minimum of shuffling about as the line formed, always according to rank, imagined or real. Now they stood about in glum little clusters, nursing drinks and chatting about inconsequential topics. Clearly Heydrich’s visit and the news concerning slave labour were having a dampening effect.

  Bethwig could not understand their attitude. Every section head and administrator had been demanding additional manpower for months, even though they knew it was not to be had. Captured soldiers were an ideal source. And certainly they would find labour at Peenemunde more rewarding than the maddening boredom of a POW camp. There was no reason why they should not be put to work. Most would probably be French, Norwegian, Czech or Danish - good intelligent types. But even Russians and Poles would be acceptable as unskilled labour.

  He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see von Braun smiling at him. ‘Come, jackass, our master wishes to see us.’ Again the smile remained fixed as von Braun steered him towards Dornberger’s study, politely fending off two fellow workers who wanted to talk. Bethwig made him stop short of the door and pulled him towards the wall.

  ‘What the hell is this all about, Wernher? Why do you keep calling me a jackass?’

  ‘Because you are. Are you trying to get us both in trouble? Why didn’t you come to the meeting?’

  ‘I had something more important to do. The latest tests ...’

  ‘To hell with them. Nothing is more important right now than keeping that shithead in there on our side.’

  ‘Shithead? Why, Wernher, I don’t think that quite expresses the proper respect for our revered - what was it you called him? - master?’

  ‘Stop acting the fool. You know what ‘I’m talking about. There was also that little staring contest between you two a few minutes ago.’ Von Braun hesitated, and Bethwig waited to hear what he was nerving himself to say.

  ‘Franz, you aren’t in his league. And even if you were, it doesn’t make sense to antagonise the man. If you make him angry enough, you could disappear for ever.’

  ‘Ah, so you are beginning to recognise that fact, are you?’

  ‘What the devil are you talking about? Heydrich is a ... a .. ‘

  ‘Gangster?’ Bethwig supplied. ‘Worse than anything the Americans ever turned out?’

  ‘Of course! So why antagonise him? You are the one who told me we could work with anyone, anyone at all, as long as they made it possible for us to develop the lunar rocket. Remember?’

  ‘Wernher, I do not understand you at all. Did you not publicly disagree with Heydrich at the meeting?’

  A grimace of exasperation flashed across von Braun’s face. ‘Of course I did. But that was entirely different. A matter of disagreeing as to procedures, not outright contempt such as you showed.’

  Bethwig recognised the note of entreaty in his friend’s voice and gave in. He clapped von Braun on the shoulder.

  ‘You are correct, as usual. From now on I will be on my best behaviour, so you can stop worrying.’ Bethwig shook his head as von Braun turned to open the door. He was so damned naive that he probably did not believe Heydrich would view a difference of opinion as an outright refusal to obey orders.

  The reichsprotektor broke off a conversation as they entered and crossed the room to shake hands. Bethwig was again surprised at his limp grasp.


  ‘We have much to discuss, so please make yourselves comfortable.’ He motioned for drinks, and they sat down.

  ‘As you know’ - Heydrich waved a hovering officer away - ‘Wernher came to see me in Prague two weeks ago. As I told you then, my friend’ - he smiled at von Braun, but his eyes were on Bethwig - ‘I was not satisfied with your report. The entire timetable for the project must be speeded up.’

  Heydrich stopped; he seemed to be considering, then, apparently having made up his mind, he turned in his chair and waved at a group of officers. Obediently they trooped from the room, leaving only the aide sitting beside the door, apparently engrossed in a technical magazine he could not possibly have understood. Bethwig noticed that his holster flap was unbuttoned.

  ‘Much better,’ Heydrich said. ‘Now we can speak freely. There is good reason for the urgency. The Americans are rushing troops to Europe. It is possible that a second front will be opened before the next year is out. Even though you are not military men, there is no need to tell you what that means. The Führer has bitten off more than he can chew in Russia. I was against the campaign at the time, preferring to wait until we had arrived at an agreement with the English. If the Russian attack had been held off until this year, I am certain that we could have weaned Churchill away from Stalin and would not then be wasting resources along the Atlantic coast and in North Africa. But that is neither here nor there. The Führer prevailed, as is correct.’

  Heydrich sipped his drink, eyeing them carefully. ‘What I am about to tell you must go no further than this room.’ Both nodded solemnly.

  ‘Then understand this. We will not prevail in Russia this year and perhaps not the following year either. Our tactics are incorrect as you have heard me state before. The Ukrainians are anti-communist for the most part and could become our strongest allies, but we persist in oppression. I have slight hope of changing the Führer’s mind concerning this policy.’

  Heydrich paused, and again Bethwig had the feeling that he was gauging their reaction, much as an actor would ‘feel’ the house. ‘I am to be made commander of all SS in France, a position from which I will command unlimited funds, material and manpower.’ He smiled at their surprise. ‘Now you know why Peenemunde will soon receive levies of POWs. But that is not the point. I have had occasion to examine our defences in France, and I find them quite inadequate in the event of a major invasion. In fact, no matter what is done to fortify our position along the Atlantic, it will be insufficient. Unless our policy concerning conquered peoples changes, which I seriously doubt, eventually we will be overwhelmed from inside as well as without. To prevent that inevitable day, we must cause the Americans and their English allies to leave the war. As long as the Americans are safe from the ravages of war on their own soil, they will continue to contribute material and men to the Allied effort. After all, it is good business. But let them have a taste of bombing and killing across the Atlantic and they will soon fall out.’

  Bethwig squirmed on the sofa. He had made this very point to Heydrich some months before. Obviously the man had forgotten the source.

  ‘Our uranium-bomb project is going ahead at a good clip. We expect to receive large shipments of heavy water from Rjukan, ‘Norway, before the autumn. The Allies made a desperate attempt to destroy the hydroelectric plant, but all of their commando troops were killed. In spite of such annoyances, my planning staff informs me of the following: one, the first uranium bombs will be available for testing by late 1943 and operational in 1944, somewhere about mid to late spring; two, the Allies will not be in a position to invade Europe until May of 1943 at the earliest, with the most likely date of invasion in the autumn of 1944 or the spring of 1945. Gentlemen, we must be ready to knock the United States out of the war by the beginning of 1944.’ This last was punctuated by Heydrich’s fist descending on the arm of his chair. ‘And that, gentlemen, can best be done by throwing the uranium bomb at them from the moon. It is nothing less than the survival of the Reich of which we are speaking!’

  Bethwig was surprised by Heydrich’s emotion. Perhaps he had misjudged the man. Maybe he was more than an opportunistic gangster after all?

  ‘Therefore, gentlemen, it is time to stop pussyfooting around.’ Heydrich favoured them with a cold smile and stood up to pace for a moment, hands clasped behind his back. A tall figure in black. The perfect Aryan, Bethwig thought admiringly in spite of himself, the essence of the Germanic spirit.

  ‘You came to me because you were unable to gain backing for your project from your own employers, the army. You convinced me that farfetched though your ideas seemed, they had a great deal of merit. I therefore placed myself in some jeopardy in backing you. Certain people have been promised results, results based upon a very rigid time schedule.’ He paused to stare at them both, and Bethwig knew what was coming next. From von Braun’s grunt, it was clear that he did as well.

  ‘Now you both tell me that perhaps it was not such a good idea after all. That more time is needed, that the problems are of such magnitude that time schedules cannot be met.’

  ‘Herr Heydrich,’ von Braun began, but the reichsprotektor cut him off.

  ‘Please, no excuses. We allow no excuses in the SS. Only success is recognised. There is no such thing as failure, is that clear? You two gentlemen have deceived me ...’

  That was too much for von Braun. He jumped up and advanced on Heydrich who backed away a step in surprise. The aide came slowly to his feet, one hand on his pistol. ‘Just one moment, Herr Reichsprotektor.’ Von Braun’s voice was cold and his face pale. Bethwig had never heard him use that tone of voice before, and he stared, fascinated by this new aspect of his friend’s character.

  ‘We presented to you a technological concept, not a finished product. Our proposals made it perfectly clear that this was the case and that rigid time schedules had no place in the development plan. Obviously your so-called planning staff has chosen to ignore - ‘

  ‘That is enough!’

  In that single command Bethwig and von Braun understood how Heydrich had come to be the number-two man in the Schutzstaffel, the head of the Sicherheitsdienst, and reichsprotektor all at the same time. It was not so much the threat in his voice as the confidence - confidence that any order he gave would be carried out instantly. Bethwig found his opinion of Heydrich undergoing an abrupt change. Perhaps his father had been wrong. Heydrich was correct. If the Americans remained an active enemy, the war was lost, and contrary to the party line, Heydrich had freely admitted it. It occurred to Bethwig then that very few people in Germany possessed such power. Even fewer knew how to use it for the good of the nation, for mankind as a whole. Thank God, Heydrich seemed to.

  Heydrich stared at them without concealing his contempt. ‘You are boys playing a game, expecting everything to go by the rules - rules you make up as you go along. Well, I must disappoint you. You are no longer boys playing boys’ games. You are citizens of a nation involved in a war for survival. If we lose, we will disappear into oblivion in the worst bloodbath the world will ever know. If we win, we become masters of the world. With such stakes, your personal desires and feelings are of no importance.’

  Heydrich picked up his brandy glass and stared at them over the rim. ‘The schedule I gave this afternoon will be met. It is not open to discussion. If you cannot do so, or do not desire to do so, please tell me now. Others can be found to take your place.’ He waited, watching them.

  Bethwig knew then how a small bird felt as the snake approached. There was horror, a premonition of what was to come, and, worst of all, the knowledge that there was absolutely no way to avoid one’s fate.

  ‘Admirable sentiments,’ von Braun snorted, and Bethwig turned to his friend in amazement. Even Heydrich was astonished. ‘You can threaten and bluster all you wish, but it will do no good. The dynamics of technological development refuse to recognise fear as an incentive,’ he went on dryly. ‘Put us in one of your famous concentration camps and threaten us with every punishment you
can devise. Perhaps you might gain a day or two, but no more.’

  Von Braun picked up his own glass and watched in turn for Heydrich’s reaction. The reichsprotektor shook his head and burst into laughter.

  ‘What do you think of this, Karl?’ He addressed the aide. ‘I am unable to impress Doktor von Braun.’ The aide permitted himself the trace of a smile. ‘You have convinced me, Doktor. Perhaps my planning staff has failed to take the stubbornness of your technology into account. Let us not argue further. If I can have your assurance that everything possible will be done to speed up the project, I will be satisfied ... for now.’

  Just then the door opened and a senior aide looked in to tell Heydrich he had a phone call from Berlin. The reichsprotektor excused himself and left the room, but not before inviting Bethwig for another visit to Prague.

  The two scientists left the reception, exiting through the back of the house a few minutes later. A sentry escorted them out to the road, and they walked along in silence.

  ‘He is even more dangerous than I thought,’ von Braun muttered under his breath. ‘I thought he was intelligent enough to realise that certain things cannot be made to go faster merely because one threatens and blusters. This business of slave labour - how foolish can one be? Such people are not dedicated workers and therefore cannot be depended upon to do things correctly without constant supervision. In addition, they will show no initiative. You know as well as I how much we depend upon the observations of our own trained workers to solve problems.’

  Von Braun stopped. Their path had taken them along the edge of a stand of pines defining the border between beach and sea. He stood for a moment, hands clasped behind him, brooding over the waves thundering against the sand. The wind was fresher here, and the air was sharp and filled with the tang of salt and rain. ‘Perhaps you were right when you said I had chosen the wrong man.’