The sunlight streamed through the windows, and the sounds of Berlin traffic drifted in from below. Bolko sat down as did Earhart, while Viktoria said, "No doubt, after you have finished flying from Hawaii to California, you will be hungry, and will need someone to feed you." She kissed Bolko and left.
"I have been working on the plane I want . . " Earhart began, and described her plan. About two minutes into the lecture Udet arrived, and quietly took a seat next to Bolko.
He was the first one to break the spell. "That's a pretty long stretch over the Pacific there. What'll you do if you have to ditch?"
She looked baffled. "Call for help. I mean, I flew across the Atlantic and didn't have any trouble. This shouldn't be any different."
Now Udet looked serious. "What if you're not sure about your position? Air navigation can be a bi-- a problem and if you don't know where you are, then . . ." he let his voice trail off.
Manfred looked from one to the other. "Ernst, weren't you telling me about that beacon they had at, at . . "
"You mean the one the Siemens man was trying to get us to buy for Junkers?" Bolko said. "Just a squeal on a special frequency."
"Yes, yes," Udet said. "Just the thing."
Manfred said, "Let's get the map and plot it out. There should be some maps somewhere in this place."
A little while later they were all standing around a map. "Oh, my God," Bolko said. "I never imagined how empty the ocean was. You better have that beacon. It's only a couple of kilos."
Earhart looked dubious. "That's what, four, four and a half pounds?" she said. "On a trip like that every ounce counts."
"Sounds like your Air Service," Manfred said, annoyed. "They didn't issue their pilots parachutes, said they were too much weight. Didn't Lufbery have to jump out of a burning plane, yes it was Lufbery, and he ended up impaled on a fence. While our Udet here hit the silk, and lived, much to the annoyance of husbands, drivers, directors, and others."
Udet gave a short laugh and said, "Listen to him. On that sort of a flight, you need to consider safety."
"How about if we donate it?" Bolko said. "And some funds. 'Richthofen Brothers Boost Flight.' Sounds rather nice, I think."
The would-be world flyer stood there among the men, thinking. "Let me see," she said.
And she didn't mention it for the next day. Which involved a speech to a German women's group ("The few who don't believe in children, kitchen, and church," Manfred observed ruefully to Udet) and a tour of the Junkers plant in Anhalt.
In the afternoon she returned to Tempelhof, ready for their flight down to Schweidnitz. "Now, remember to keep formation," Manfred said as they stood on the tarmac, watching their airplanes be rolled out. He had had a busy day of his own and wanted to avoid more problems.
Earhart smiled. "No problem," she said. "It's not as if we're going to get into a dogfight. Besides, that red plane stands out -- you can see it for miles and miles."
"That was the idea," he said, and turned to get into the cockpit of the Ju-60. He went through the preflight, got permission from the tower, taxied to the assigned runway -- and all the while the thought nagged at him. After liftoff he circled the field until she had taken off, and with a crisp order to form up on him, set a course for Breslau and then Schweidnitz.
"We have company," he heard her say, and watched as an Arado slipped in echelon ahead and to one side. Damn! There it was, on the stabilizer, "DU DOCH NICHT!" Just like in the old days. He keyed the microphone. "Ernst! Get in formation!"
"Hear you loud and clear," the reply came, and with that the Arado slipped back to form up on his other wing. With such an escort he flew down to Silesia.
Udet had dropped off at Breslau, for some personal business. Therefore, the two planes made a landing at Schweidnitz, and then Manfred went over to apologize. "Udet is such a comedian," he said as Earhart opened the door of her plane. "He means well."
"He certainly does," she said as she stepped out on the ground. "Make sure they set the chocks, will they unload my bags? Good. I've been thinking, and you are right. If I can get one of those emergency beacons you mentioned?"
Then it came to Manfred in a rush, what he had been thinking of. "What color are you going to paint your airplane?" he said. "Paint it some bright color -- not red, that's 'my' color, but something as bright, orange maybe, and it'll be easier to see the plane. I hope it won't be necessary, but in those open spaces, every little bit helps."
She blinked. "That's what we did with the Friendship. I'd forgotten. Better remind me of that the next time."
The two men Mother sent to pick them up came through the gate at that point. "Better be careful," Manfred said, "or they'll think we're engaged."
She laughed.
"Seriously!" Manfred said. "Once, during the War, I was merely best man at a friend's wedding, and woke up the next morning to find out I was the groom! Or so said all the newspapers. You have no idea how embarrassing it was, why . . . Herren, please help Miss Earhart with her luggage." The driver and his helper had turned up just in time to avoid going over an unfortunate memory.
"Thank you, Baroness von Richthofen," Earhart said as the maid took the last plates away. The three of them sat around the dinner table, luxuriating in the aftermath of good German cooking.
Mother smiled at the compliment. "You are welcome, Frau Putnam," she said. "Manfred, are you going to take our guest riding in the morning?"
"You ride?" Manfred said.
"Ever since I was a little girl," Earhart said.
Manfred was enthusiastic. "I've always said that a good flyer is a good rider. I have been keeping up a decent stable. We'll go out in the morning," he said, and made to push back his chair.
Mother said, "Manfred, before you leave tonight show Frau Putnam your museum."
"Are you certain, Miss Earhart?" Manfred said. "It's war trophies."
"Are you kidding? Of course I want to see your museum of trophies. It's famous," she said.
The table at which the three of them sat (the boys off at Dora's, where he would follow for the evening) reflected the lights in its dark, polished oak. Outside, the landscape was lit by the setting summer sun, and some heat yet lingered in the air. Manfred did not often get this sort of peace these days, and he did not want to end it, but he knew it would.
He pushed back the chair. "Don't say you weren't warned. I'll see again you before I leave for the night, Mama."
They went upstairs and Manfred unlocked the door. How many times had he done that, for fellow aviators, politicians (now that they were his fellows), and his boys' classmates? Enough. The maid unlocked the door too, for there was no dust on the floor.
Earhart went from serial number to shattered propellor, from entire engine to victory cup, her eyes enthralled yet sad as she saw the trophies of a hundred two aerial victories. "It seems such a waste," she finally said. "All this effort, and for killing people."
"Did you do anything in the War?"
"I was a volunteer nurse's aide. Sort of a nurse."
"Ilse -- my sister -- did that too. It was her contribution to the war effort."
"But the war ended and I never got to do more than treat patients with the flu," she went on. "It was enough. Who are these people?"
"Ask no further -- they are all dead."
She turned to look at him and saw the shock and pain in his eyes. "Baron von Richthofen! I'm sorry -- was it something I said?"
It had just popped out. "No, I'm sorry," he said, and put his hand over his eyes. Then he explained about the pilots' class -- the people in the picture she was asking about -- and all the members who had died.
"I see," she said when he was done. Then she changed the subject. "You know, we have met before. It was at the air show in Long Beach. You had to duck behind your airplane, there were so many people wanting autographs."
Manfred remembered that time. "Did you get mine? There were so many, I don't remember."
"Sure. I had your picture on the wall -- you w
ere handsomer than Captain Eddie. And you did wipe away the 'beastly Hun' image. At least people realized there were good and bad Germans."
He looked relieved. "That was the idea. Would you like me to identify some of these less bothersome pictures?"
She looked down the wall and said, "Yes. That one. Is that your sister, what was her name, Ilse? Did she become a nun after her husband died?"
Manfred knew the picture; he went and stood beside the portrait with the face framed in the somber nun's wimple, turning his head just so. "Look closely," he said.
Her eyes flicked from picture to reality, back to picture, and then . . . "My God! It's you! Is it some kind of a joke!"
"Oh no, not at all. You see, there was this young woman from a good family who was a . . . how do you say it, not yet a nun but studying to be one?"
"Postulant? Novice?"
"Yes, but like every young lady in the Reich her heart beat faster for the Red Battle-Flyer, yours truly, and she had my picture on the wall of her cell. But young nuns-to-be -- novices, are not allowed to have pictures of men on their walls, even national heroes.
"So she took down my picture and replaced it with this. After a while the Mother Superior noticed something not quite right -- it turned out the young novice had asked a friend, another nun, to send a picture of herself, cut out the woman's face and put mine there.
"Mother Superior had a good laugh, even though she confiscated the picture, and she sent it to me back about, oh I guess ten years ago. Do you think I would make a good nun?"
Earhart looked at the picture again. "Probably not," she said. "You never could stay cloistered very long. We fliers know that sort of thing."
There were policemen waiting outside the house, and two escorted him the short distance to Doris's place, where the boys would be full of questions about the Frau Fliegerin. The night was dark and full of sinister hints, some of them even natural. One could imagine Max Schreck stalking the night, fangs in waiting, or some even more sinister evil, waiting to pounce.
CHAPTER 16
Reichskanzlei, Berlin, Brandenburg, Germany, Friday, August 23, 1934
The room was dark, full of sinister hints, as if it had soaked up the atmosphere of its usual topic of conversation. The man who sat at the table fulfilled that role. Any American or Englishman would have recognized his type at once; this sort of man had been the villain of innumerable stories, books, films. Indeed, his sinister scarred scowling face, his oppressive mien, shrieked "VILLAIN!" No doubt the handsome little man facing him was the hero, captured, about to be told the entirety of the villain's fiendish plot before being dispatched in some sinister, prolonged, impractical fashion. Except for the last part, that was almost true; he was being told about a fiendish plot.
"We have been working with the Embassy in Washington," the scar-faced man said. "They have given us a most . . . interesting report about General von Schleicher's recent trip." Fortunately for the world, if not just Manfred, Rudolf Diels was not the villainous mastermind about to take over the world, but only the Chief of the Preussichepolitischpolizei. He had come to the Reichskanzlei to personally deliver this report on the former Chancellor's mysterious political dealings abroad.
The third man at the table himself had a sinister reputation in America. "Taken, I believe at the behest of his new party leader, Herr Strasser," Papen said. "Strasser has been quite pleased of late. He came to see me the other day, and while he didn't quite ask outright for a seat in the Cabinet, he did say the Combat League of National Socialists deserved well as reward for its support of the government. As if giving them Mecklenberg hadn't been enough."
"Is that what they're calling it now?" Manfred said, "Herr Diels, what exactly did Schleicher do in America?"
"The Herr General entered the United States at the port of New York . . " Diels began, and recounted a mind-numbingly detailed report of lavish hoteleries and fancy parties by the Right Sort. Manfred wondered if he had pulled that stunt of his again.
One night in the spring of 1932 -- how long ago and far away that had been! -- in the days when he had been merely a famous aviator, Manfred had been entertaining some Englishmen representing their Imperial Airways, trying to sell them some more Ju-52 passenger planes. While he was extolling the virtues of the trimotor, Schleicher had been shown into the restaurant, in full uniform with all his medals, and had been seated at a nearby table. This seemed rather outre behavior for a Reichswehr Minister, but at that time such things had not been Manfred's concern. The dinners -- his and theirs -- went on for a while before it happened. The people at his table had been talking rather loudly, while a band played in the background -- and then the band stopped. The general's voice boomed out in the unexpected silence, loud enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear, "What Germany needs today is a strong man!" He was rather boldly indicating himself as he spoke.
That little demonstration had nearly ruined the deal, but Manfred had implied that Schleicher was only a buffoon, a bigger-than-normal Hauptmann of Köpenick, posing in uniform to impress people. Which hadn't keep Schleicher from getting into power later that year. At least, unlike the original, he hadn't made off with the money from the Treasury.
But back in the here and now . . . after touring the fleshpots of New York, Schleicher had taken the train to Detroit. Manfred had a sneaking suspicion why, and wasn't disappointed. "He met with Herr Ford the automobile producer," Diels said. "We have evidence that the recent donations to the Black Front are from Ford. They are in the amount of four hundred thousand Marks, approximately. Herr Strasser is more economical than Herr Hitler, so this amount should suffice for some time, and it will buy labor peace in the Ford Werke, since Strasser's men will intimidate the workers there.
"Also present were a number of minor political figures and some other important Americans including Herr Oberst Lindbergh --"
"WHAT!" Manfred shouted.
Diels looked up from his papers, surprised at the interruption. "They were on a friendly basis before that. Herr Ford has offered to aid the prosecution in the recent incident regarding the kidnaping of Herr Oberst Lindbergh's son. Did you not know that?"
"I offered to contribute to the fund to investigate the crime, I never thought . . . please go on."
"We do not have any further details as to what was discussed. Yet. Afterwards, the Herr General proceeded to Leavenworth, Kansas, where he visited the army post there and dined with the senior officers of the garrison. He made no overtly political statements there, although he did according to one source indicate that the United States could also stand some political realignment."
Schleicher had made no further shady contacts during the remainder of his trip, aside from that one officer of their marine infantry in San Juan. He had returned to Germany at the end of July, proclaiming himself "tanned, rested, and ready", and had taken up his ill-defined advisory post with the Oldenberg Land government.
Manfred listened with some concern. "Thank you, Herr Diels," he said. "I expect you to respect Herr Strasser's immunity as a Reichstag deputy, and to keep watch on the Herr General. His Imperial Majesty's Government is grateful to you for your service."
Diels nodded, then turned to a different topic. "The factions loyal to Herr Hitler have been handling their own foreign intrigues. We have evidence that Hitler and his Austrian associates are preparing a coup in Vienna."
"Well, won't that please the Social Democrats," Papen said, sarcastically.
After Diels had left, Papen said, "You've been reading too much of that English trash, where the handsome agent outwits our man on the Orient Express, gets the girl, and rides off into the sunset."
"Well, the answer's easy enough -- have writers here write stories about handsome young Germans outwitting Englishmen on the Orient Express!"
Papen laughed wryly and then said, "But seriously. The steel magnates are paying Hitler and Röhm in the hope that a National Socialist government will mean more arms orders and fewer union problems. We can offer
the former but the latter . . ." and he shrugged.
"Yes, yes, I know. Lose the unions and the government falls, lose the right and the government falls. At least we have the parties, the Army, and -- ahem! -- the aviation industry behind us. The lighter industries, Siemens, Farben . . . Daimler, too."
"But if Strasser and Schleicher are getting help from abroad -- that's not good. I can't imagine why anyone would think Schleicher would make an effective Reichskanzler, or that Strasser's faction could ever amount to much, but in politics, often, we have to work with what people believe is true, not what is true."
Manfred was annoyed as well, but the Ford Werke was a German company, so in a sense Herr Ford was making a local political contribution. Herr Hitler liked him, too . . . "We'll talk about it some more when I get back from the weekend," he said. "I need the rest, down home. Nothing else seems to be going right. When will the SA leaders go to trial?"
Papen had been sweeping papers into a briefcase; he looked up and said, "Herr Ernst got ten years for arson, incitement to riot, and threatening murder."
"But that's here in Berlin. Most of Röhm's people are in Bavaria."
Papen closed the briefcase, stood up, and said, "Not a lot we can do in that case. They stick to their independence there. Maybe by next January."
After Papen had left Manfred thought of another reason why the trials of the SA leaders in Bavaria were so long delayed; Gürtner had been named Bavarian Minister of Justice. He still seemed to have that bit of a blind eye about Nazi crimes. Schäfer had complained about him and his leniencies, but keeping the Nationalists in the Bavarian coalition had needed a concession, and naming Gürtner had been their choice.
How many more concessions would they have to make, Manfred thought. He could sell his soul saving the Reich -- or even not saving the Reich.
There was his concern about Lindbergh, only a personal concern now, but one that could build into a national one. This meeting with Schleicher, that might be the breeding-ground for the idea that would make the impression on him, the doctrine that he would take up -- and he would be a very effective leader. He had the presence, he had the fame, and worse yet, there was a precedent. Yet, Manfred concluded, ruefully, that precedent he himself had had to provide, in his own country, because it was his duty. The Americans were not in such a bad state, or so he hoped.
A Man and a Plane: An Alternate Germany Page 26