71.
Himmler’s Camelot
En Route to Westphalia, Germany
Wednesday, 17 June 1931
KURT Von Sturm had not flown in an open cockpit aircraft since the war, let alone an autogiro. The roar of the Wright Whirlwind engine made conversation with the other occupant next to him in the front cockpit all but impossible. Which was just as well with Sturm because what did he have in common with Winston Churchill? Only one thing he could think of. The rescue of Mattie McGary, Churchill‘s god-daughter and the woman Sturm loved.
Back in Churchill‘s hotel suite earlier in the day, Sturm had sketched a rough outline of Wewelsburg Castle, a triangular structure built on a hill overlooking the Alme Valley. “The castle‘s dominant feature is its north tower,” he had said. “A large circular structure some five stories tall with a flat crenellated top. The east and west towers are smaller although equal in height and the castle‘s main entrance is between those two towers.”
Sturm then began to sketch the large hill on which the castle sat and to shade in the trees and foliage around it, far more dense on the east side than the west side. He had just finished sketching in the dry moat on the castle‘s east side and the concealed entrance into the castle‘s basement beneath the east drawbridge when Churchill took over. Sturm could tell at once the man was a soldier, eager for adventure and expecting to be obeyed.
Taking his unlit Havana cigar from his mouth, Churchill had used it as a map pointer. “We‘ll make a silent landing with the three autogiros here.” Churchill said pointing with his cigar at a spot on Sturms‘s sketch, a small clearing amid a copse of trees adjacent to the castle Sturm had drawn. “We‘ll divide our force into two teams of four and approach the entrance beneath the east drawbridge from either side under the cover of darkness. We‘ll leave one of our numbers behind to secure the aircraft and another at our entry point into the castle. That will ensure a clear line of retreat. Then, a seven man team will enter the castle, find Mattie and Harmony and effect their rescue.”
“Winston, don‘t you think…” Cockran began but Churchill ignored him. “Bourke, Sergeant Rankin and Mr. Sullivan are the pilots. Two of Mr. Sullivan‘s comrades from Ireland will accompany him. Herr Lanz, you and one of your associates will accompany Sergeant Rankin while Herr von Sturm and I will ride with Bourke in his aircraft.”
“Wait a minute, Winston.” Cockran had protested. “You‘re not coming with us. This will be exceedingly dangerous. These SS are ruthless. You could be shot or killed.”
Churchill frowned. “As could my goddaughter. I‘m the one who persuaded her to participate in this perilous undertaking and I am most certainly going to be there to rescue her. Her father would expect no less. Remind me, Bourke. What was your rank during the Great War?”
“Captain.”
Churchill smiled. “I was a Lieutenant Colonel. And in how many conflicts have you seen action?”
“One.”
“Yes, one. While I, on the other hand, graduated Sandhurst, fought Pashtun warriors in India, the Mahdi‘s Dervishes in the Sudan and the Boers in South Africa. As well as the Huns in the Great War. Once we land at this castle, you‘ll have operational command of our little raiding party but, until then, I‘m in charge. Understood?”
“Yes sir, Colonel Churchill. Perfectly.” Cockran said as he came to attention and snapped off a crisp salute, a wide grin on his face.
Churchill nodded. “Let‘s assemble our kit and make haste to the Munich aerodrome. We should plan to arrive at Wewelsburg Castle shortly after dusk has fallen.”
Castle Wewelsburg
Westphalia, Germany
Wednesday, 17 June 1931
COCKRAN accepted Sturm‘s suggestion and the three autogiros approached the castle from the west, silently landing in a forest clearing within a hundred yards from the road which passed beneath the castle‘s north tower. Two deserted homes lay between them and the road.
“All the houses surrounding the castle are to be demolished,” Sturm said as they tied the three aircraft down. “Himmler showed me the architect‘s three dimensional model for Wewelsburg. The castle will be at its center and its triangular shape will form the tip of a spearhead. New walls will flow out from the base of the castle to form a complete spearhead and within the walls will be an academy and lodging for the training of future generations of SS.”
Churchill approached them now, Mauser in his hand, and spoke to Cockran. “As I promised, you‘re now in operational command. Much as I‘d like to join you, someone must stay behind and protect the aircraft. As I‘m the oldest among us by some 20 years and,” Churchill said, patting his ample belly, “perhaps the least fit, I am the logical candidate.”
Cockran was relieved and quickly agreed. They set out for the castle where scaffolding stood along the east wing. The eight men approached in four man teams on either side of the arched bridge across the dry moat. They met at an ancient wooden door beneath the bridge. Sturm tried the handle but the door didn‘t budge. “It might just be stuck,” Cockran said. “The door looks slightly ajar.”
“Let‘s see if you‘re right.” Sturm said as he lowered his shoulder and rammed into the door and moved it several inches.
“Need a hand?” Cockran asked. Sturm nodded. Together the men rammed the door once more and it moved further this time. One more shove and a two foot space had opened.
Cockran turned to Sullivan who had been hard on their heels. “Leave one of the Apostles to guard the exit. I still don‘t trust Lanz.”
Sullivan nodded and Cockran turned back to Sturm. “Where to?”
“Down this corridor to the right. The crypt beneath the north tower is where the SS hold their ritual ceremonies. Cells for prisoners are this way also.”
The men moved down the dank stone corridor, peering into four empty cells along the way. At the fifth cell they found what they were looking for. Cockran peered into the cell and immediately recognized Mattie‘s tan slacks, a white silk blouse, leather jacket, boots and silk briefs. “They‘re Mattie‘s clothes.” Cockran said. “Where do you think they‘ve taken her?”
“The sacrificial chamber. We must hurry.” Sturm replied but Cockran had already burst from the cell into the corridor and was racing for the the north tower.
“Herr Cockran! Wait!” But Cockran paid no heed and Sturm sprinted after him. Ahead, Cockran heard the steady thump of hob-nailed boots on concrete. Sturm caught up with him right before a stone archway, clasped his shoulder hard and pulled him back into the shadows. Cockran swung his head back, a look of fury on his face, and began to push him away but stopped when Sturm put his finger to his lips. Cockran nodded briefly to signal he heard the footsteps also and they were growing nearer.
Retreating into the shadows, they both watched twelve tall blond men dressed in black trimmed in silver march past, long daggers drawn and gleaming in the torch light, Lugers in shiny black leather holsters on their belts. The men disappeared through an open iron gate into a chamber beyond. Sturm turned to Cockran and whispered. “The ceremony has not started. Mattie and Miss Hampton are still alive. But we cannot all enter through this main gate. Leave Herr Sullivan here with Sergeant Rankin, the other Irishman and the Templar. You and I and Herr Lanz will enter from the opposite side in precisely 60 seconds.”
Cockran frowned. “The other side?”
“Yes.” Sturm replied as he reached out his right hand to the stone wall beside them and pushed. There was an audible click and the wall swung away to reveal a narrow corridor curving around to the right. Cockran checked his watch, compared it with Sullivan‘s and told him to come through the main gate in sixty seconds with guns blazing.
Cockran turned back to Sturm. “Thanks for stopping me back there. I would have walked right into those guys if you hadn‘t.” Sturm nodded and gestured for Cockran to enter the corridor first which he did.
Sturm was behind Cockran as they carefully made their way down the stone passage, lit ahead only by a single
candle in a wall sconce. They stopped at the candle. “The passage continues around the exterior of the chamber,” Sturm said. “In another twenty meters, there will be an entrance from the passage into the chamber right behind the seat held by Himmler.”
With Lanz behind them, Sturm and Cockran continued down the corridor and stopped short when, ahead of them came a barely muffled scream. Cockran recognized it at once. Mattie! He looked at Sturm and, without a word, each man began to sprint down the corridor, pulling their Schmeisser machine pistols from their shoulders.
72.
Kill Them All
Castle Wewelsburg
Westphalia, Germany
Wednesday, 17 June, 1931
MATTIE thought the glow from the Spear must be an optical illusion brought on by her brain‘s inability to process the horror of Harmony‘s murder and her own imminent death. But moments after the Spear tip grew incandescent, Hoch‘s strength began to force it down and it was within inches of her heart when Cockran burst from behind the left-hand side of the curtain behind Himmler and Sturm from the right, opening up with automatic weapons at the black-garbed SS standing on the pedestals surrounding the altar. On the other side of the chamber, Bobby Sullivan had opened up with his twin Colt .45 automatics and was followed by Rankin and several hooded and equally well-armed men.
In the tumult which followed, Hoch released the Spear of Destiny and it fell harmlessly beside her on the stone altar. In an instant, Sullivan was at Mattie‘s side, cutting her bonds, casting the Spear aside with no concern for its sacred history. Sitting up on the stone altar, Mattie quickly rubbed circulation back into her wrists and ankles while Sullivan offered her one of his Colts which she gladly accepted. It wasn‘t her weapon of choice. Its kick was far stronger than her Walther but she had fired one before.
Mattie moved away from the altar, the Colt held in both hands, and she scanned the room with it, looking for targets wearing black. As she scanned, she saw Bourke and Kurt together, back to back, firing their machine pistols. Just then, she saw movement to her right, above Sturm and Cockran. An SS man had clambered onto the altar, his foot resting on Harmony‘s lifeless body, and was drawing a bead on both of Mattie‘s lovers. Not on my watch, she thought, and squeezed off two quick shots. The first shot hit the SS man in the chest, slamming him back, but the Colt‘s kick caused the second shot to go higher, hitting him squarely in his forehead and knocking him from the altar to the floor.
Nice shot, McGary, Mattie thought. She scanned the room and she saw Himmler disappear behind the curtain from which Cockran and Sturm had emerged with Hoch right behind.
“Bourke! Kurt! Over there! Hoch is getting away,” Mattie shouted. Kill the bastard, she thought. Kill him!
Behind her, Mattie heard the crack of automatic weapons fire over the sound of Sullivan‘s Colt .45 automatic and SS cries of surrender. The Templars and Michael Collins‘ most feared assassin were taking no prisoners. Good, Mattie thought, surprising herself at the vehemence of her reaction until she looked once more at Harmony‘s lifeless body on the altar. Kill the bloody bastards! Kill them all!
73.
Death From Above
Castle Wewelsburg
Wednesday, 1 7 June 1931
COCKRAN reached Mattie‘s side and touched the blood on her white gown. “Are you hurt?” “I‘m fine.”
Cockran looked back to the altar at Harmony‘s lifeless body. “The bastards!”
“She betrayed us,” Mattie said. “She‘d been working with Hoch the whole time, but he killed her anyway. Go after him. Don‘t let him escape.”
Cockran saw that Bobby Sullivan was wounded again, clutching his side, but Murphy was there beside him. Cockran caught Sullivan‘s eye and watched him motion with his eyes toward the curtain behind which Himmler and Hoch had disappeared.
“He went that way,” Sullivan said. “And Sturm followed.”
His submachine pistol empty, Cockran flung it aside, pulled out his Webley and stepped behind the curtain. Opposite from the direction he and Sturm had come from were steps leading down, the dim light from the room behind barely illuminating their stone surface. The steps weren‘t many, eight or nine before his feet hit the dirt floor of the passage. Ahead of him, he heard gunfire. It was pitch black now so, with his left hand touching the wall, the Webley in his right, he moved toward the sound of the guns.
The gunfire had stopped and Cockran kept moving in the same direction on the dirt floor up a small incline. Ahead of him, he could see light. In the silence he thought he heard footsteps over to the right. He hesitated. There was another tunnel branching off. Should he follow the footsteps? Just then, he heard another gunshot from up ahead. Making up his mind, he headed toward the faint light, the barrel of his Webley pointed straight up beside him. He ran up a short flight of steps and heard the roar of a motorcycle engine. He reached the top of the flight and emerged into the courtyard of Castle Wewelsburg in time to see Hoch speeding away towards the Castle entrance as Sturm snapped off several shots with his Luger, all of them missing the speeding target. Cockran sprinted towards Sturm who by now had slung the strap of his machine pistol over his shoulder, leaped onto a motorcycle, kick-started it and roared after Hoch.
There were three motorcycles still there when Cockran reached the nearest one, all of them identical BMW Model R39s. Cockran grabbed the nearest bike and headed off after Sturm. He bent low over the handlebars as he raced over the wooden drawbridge. Ahead of him, he could see Sturm gaining on Hoch, now barely 50 yards ahead. Hoch twisted his upper torso around and blindly fired a burst of automatic weapon fire at Sturm from his Schmeisser. The burst shredded the front tire of Sturm‘s bike and sent it into a skid on its side. Cockran braked to a halt in order to avoid hitting Sturm. He put the kickstand down and leaped off the BMW.
Sturm was pinned under the motorcycle which Cockran lifted off him. Sturm pulled himself to his feet and gave a stifled groan. The left arm of his jacket had been ripped and Cockran could see that beneath, his left side was bleeding from a gunshot wound.
“Are you badly hurt?” Cockran asked.
“I‘m fine,” Sturm replied. “Go after Hoch.”
Cockran looked into the distance and saw the tail light of Hoch‘s motorcycle fading into the darkness, 200 yards away and rapidly increasing the distance between them.
“Hop on the bike,” Cockran said to Sturm.
“No,” Sturm said. “Too much weight. You‘ll never catch him with me on it.”
“We‘re wasting time,” Cockran said. “Hop on. We‘re not using the bike to catch him.”
Moments later Cockran skidded to a halt in front of the three autogiros they had flown from Munich. “Winston! Harmony‘s been murdered. The man who did it just went by on that motorcycle,” he shouted over his shoulder as he sprinted to the lead autogiro. “The cargo compartment on the middle plane. There‘s a spare submachine gun and tracer rounds, the ones with a blue band. Find them and give them to Herr Sturm.”
To Sturm, he said. “Hop in the front cockpit. We‘re going to cut that bastard off if it‘s the last thing I do.”
Churchill brought the Thompson and the round ammunition drums over to Sturm and called to Cockran. “Is Mattie safe?”
“Yes, she‘s fine. Bobby and the others will be here soon. Keep the aircraft secure until we‘re back.”
Moments later, with Sturm on board, the autogiro rose into the air, its takeoff using less than 15 feet. Cockran quickly ascended to 500 feet, but neither of them could spot Hoch‘s motorcycle in the distance.
“I‘m taking her higher,” Cockran said. “Keep your eyes peeled for his tail light.”
At a higher altitude of 1,000 feet, they both spotted the small red light in the distance, nearly a mile ahead of them, making its way along the twisting road. Cockran opened the throttle wide, taking the aircraft to its maximum airspeed of 118 miles per hour.
“We‘ll be even with him in a few more minutes,” Cockran said into the speaking tube.
“Once I pull ahead of him, start firing the tracer rounds.”
Cockran kept the autogiro at 1,000 feet. “Get ready,” Cockran said as he pushed the stick forward. “I‘ll let you know when I‘m down to 100 feet. Then let him have it.”
Cockran brought the autogiro down, slowing its speed, and Sturm opened up with submachine gun fire, the red tracers streaming through the night, seeking out Hoch‘s bike, which responded by accelerating, heading for forest cover in the rolling hills around the next curve. Below him, Cockran could see where the twisting road exited the forest. From where they were, Cockran saw it was another two miles before the road reached the top of the hill and began its downward descent. There were no side roads.
“I‘m going to get ahead of him,” Cockran said into the speaking tube, “and come about across the road. I‘ll take her down to the lowest air speed I can, 15 miles per hour, so you can hit him with a broadside and maximize our fire power. Okay?”
Sturm made no response and Cockran could see that Sturm had slumped over to his right, unmoving, the left side of his jacket almost completely crimson with his blood. Damn! Cockran weighed his options. His maneuver assumed maximum fire power brought to bear on the target. It wasn‘t quite the same if he could fire only single shots from his Webley with one hand, keeping the autogiro steady with the other. With Sturm out of action, he would have to stop Hoch without guns. He gauged the distance from Hoch‘s location on the road to the top of the hill. Vegetation grew more sparse the higher the road went. At the peak of the hill, there were no trees lining the serpentine road and Cockran assumed it would be the same on the other side. Forcing Hoch‘s bike off the side might well spell death on the switchback road which climbed one side of the hill and down the other. If Hoch lived through that, Cockran would land and finish him off with the submachine gun.
The Parsifal Pursuit Page 43