The Reich Device

by Richard D. Handy

  Mayer passed out.

  Dr Steinhoff examined the sketch, eyes wide. ‘My, my… this is very exciting!… This is… I think… a new type of booster… yes, I think so, a turbo booster!’

  ‘So what? How significant is it?’ Kessler asked.

  ‘This is very significant. You see, if this is a booster – and I think it is – then we will be able to make our rockets go much faster!’ The rocket scientist beamed.

  ‘Then I suggest that you get your team of engineers to make it and test it.’ Kessler stared at the scientist.

  ‘Of course, of course, there is so much work to be done! We will need to make proper technical drawings, then to prepare a mould in which to pour hot aluminium to cast the turbo device. Then fan blades will need to be added, and made at a very precise angle, length, and flexibility.’

  ‘How quickly can you make this, within a couple of days? Professor Mayer is very ill. His capacity to answer questions is… shall we say… becoming limited. We may not have much time.’ Kessler was being realistic.

  The scientist shook his head. ‘Not a chance. The task is a real challenge, and will keep dozens of scientists and engineers hard at work for several weeks. This task is at the frontier of precision engineering.’

  ‘But you can make this?’

  ‘Yes, in time. I must say, this is a work of genius, simple, yet elegant… ’

  ‘I am sure it is – just get on with it!’

  ‘Of course, Commandant, will that be all?’ Steinhoff swallowed, and returned his gaze to the sketch. A cold sweat trickled down his back. What if he couldn’t make the booster? The design was intricate and Commandant Kessler was not a man to displease.

  Steinhoff clenched his jaw as a new emotion hit home.

  Envy.

  He had toiled on the design of rocket engines for years. Recognition for his work was long overdue. Why hadn’t he seen this before? How could a sick man sketch a work of genius in minutes? The hand of providence had given him Mayer. He would do well to use this advantage, and keep Mayer alive as long as possible.

  ‘Commandant, I must protest! The patient is very sick. We must let him rest,’ the doctor whispered in harsh tones, standing outside the patient’s door, desperately trying not to disturb the calm. Despite his best efforts, Mayer was in decline. ‘Please Herr Commandant! The smoke from the fire has compounded a number of medical problems with the patient. He has a serious lung infection.’

  ‘No matter, you will assist me during the interview. I want to know what he knows. The Führer wants to know what he knows!’ Kessler towered over the doctor.

  ‘Look, I can give the patient pain relief and keep him comfortable, but that is all. He really needs to rest; he’s on death’s door.’

  ‘Herr Doctor, that is precisely why the interrogation must continue!’

  Kessler stormed into Mayer’s room with the doctor in tow.

  Mayer had a high fever and muttered periodically – even Kessler had to admit that he was probably wasting his time – but still, a round of questioning wouldn’t hurt. As a precaution he had brought the senior rocket scientist, Steinhoff, along to take notes and listen just in case the Professor garbled some nugget of pure genius. The turbo device had been a good step forward. Maybe he had been wrong, perhaps there was no new machine after all? On the other hand, if a sick man could sketch out such a revolution in engineering as the turbo device, then there must be other technological advances trapped inside his head. Kessler reasoned that the interrogation was worth continuing.

  ‘Professor, can you hear me? How do we control the turbo device? How do we feedback the signal from the device to the fuel tanks?’

  Kessler was asking ridiculously complex questions, but the engineers needed answers. With luck, he might blurt them out between bouts of delirium.

  ‘What is the feedback signal?’ Kessler persisted.

  Mayer mumbled nonsense. Any chance of a reasoned conversation had long since slipped away.

  ‘What is the feedback signal?’ Kessler repeated, shaking Mayer by the shoulders.

  ‘I know… Albeeert… ’

  Both Kessler and the rocket scientist leaned in close to catch what the Professor was saying.

  ‘Albeeert… friennnnd… save… meeee.’

  Kessler looked at the rocket scientist. ‘Dr Steinhoff, who is Albert?’

  ‘Albert, that will be Albert Einstein,’ answered the rocket scientist.

  Dr Steinhoff was a physicist, as well as a fine engineer. Everybody knew of Einstein; his equations and ideas had turned the world of physics upside down in the last twenty years. If the situation had not been so grave, Steinhoff might have been lightly amused by Kessler’s ignorance.

  Mayer continued his delirious mumblings.

  ‘Mass… to energgeee… quan… tuum… fast… so fast… ’

  Kessler glanced at Steinhoff for explanation.

  ‘Mass to energy; he must be recalling one of the field equations. Maybe E = mc2. Fast, something is fast – it could be light – the speed of light.’ Steinhoff was intrigued.

  ‘Noooooo… Nooooooo!’ The Professor dissolved into a coughing fit. Then, out of the blue, came a moment of lucidity. Mayer opened his eyes, and spoke clearly.

  ‘Wave number equals two Pi over lambda. Quantum energy, quantum energy!’

  Mayer collapsed back on the bed.

  ‘What is he talking about?’ Kessler could see things were moving into new ground.

  ‘I have no idea,’ Steinhoff shrugged. ‘Something to do with wave energy and quantum mechanics.’

  ‘We must know more!’ Kessler turned to the doctor. ‘Wake him up – you have the adrenalin shots. Do it!’

  The doctor produced a box of glass syringes with long needles. ‘I have prepared a dose of adrenalin, as you requested; but please understand, the hormone is a strong stimulant. It will wake the patient up for a few minutes only.’

  ‘Do it!’ Kessler ordered.

  The doctor complied. He carefully took out the first glass syringe containing adrenalin, and instinctively tapped the glass to remove any air bubbles and to check the contents. With the syringe raised in the air, he pressed Kessler for confirmation. ‘This will be only a temporary boost to energy levels. It is a hefty dose – too much and we risk heart failure or a massive internal bleed.’

  ‘Proceed!’

  The doctor took the Professor’s arm and delivered the injection. The effect was immediate. Kessler wasted no time in resuming the interrogation.

  ‘Professor, what about wave energy? Tell me! Is this something to do with your new machine?’

  No answer.

  ‘Answer! Answer the question!’ Kessler slapped the Professor across the face.

  The doctor didn’t bother to protest on behalf of his patient. Kessler continued with a few more blows. Blood poured from the Professor’s nose.

  ‘Gooooo toooo heeeeeell.’ Mayer snorted his own blood and clasped his lips tight.

  ‘Answer!’ Another slap.

  ‘Gooooo tooooo heeeeell.’ Mayer was in turmoil, he had said something about his idea! ‘I’ll see yoooou in heeeeell… ’ Mayer coughed up spots of blood and prayed for death.

  Kessler looked at the doctor. ‘Give him the other drug, the truth drug – give him the mescaline – do it now.’

  Mescaline was a new mind-controlling drug, developed by the SS, for just such occasions. When it was mixed with cocaine and heroin in the right proportions, a prisoner injected with the concoction would answer anything.

  ‘No! It cannot be done! It will be a potentially lethal cocktail. There is adrenalin already in his veins!’

  The doctor, reluctantly, prepared the mescaline syringe. A few hundred milligrams in the syringe – an educated guess – he didn’t know if the dose would fry the patient’s brain, or make him sing like a canary.

  He injected the dose.

  Mayer gasped into a spasm with the rush of cocaine and heroin. Then after a few seconds his muscle tone relax
ed as the mescaline kicked in. He gave a crooked smile, as his eyes wandered aimlessly around the room.

  ‘Tell us about two Pi and Lamda,’ Kessler asked quietly.

  The Professor gave a gargled half smile.

  ‘Nooo… toooo diffi… cult for you… ’ Mayer half giggled. Blood dripped from his nose.

  Kessler could not believe it; Mayer was arrogantly refusing to reply because he wasn’t smart enough!

  ‘Then talk to Dr Steinhoff. You remember Steinhoff? You worked on the fuel tanks together.’ Kessler tried to motivate his prisoner as he passed the control of the interview to Steinhoff.

  ‘Gustav, please, we want to help you. Please help by answering my questions. Do you agree?’

  ‘Yeees, you know… you know… ’ he muttered an approval.

  ‘The wave number, tell me about this. Why is it important, what is it for?’

  Mayer chuckled in his delirium. Blood frothed at his lips as he spoke. ‘Wave number… particle energy… same thing!’ Mayer tried a smug smile, but couldn’t.

  ‘What? No! Impossible? Are you sure?!’ Steinhoff ’s mind reeled. This was scientific heresy! This was like saying the earth was flat, or the sky was green. It didn’t make any sense at all. He needed to know the logic steps. How did the Professor’s mind go from A to B, and then make a sudden leap to Z?

  ‘Gustav, how can this be? I don’t understand? How can wave energy and particle energy be the same thing?’

  Mayer gave a satisfying half nod and continued.

  ‘Planck… made… mistake… constant not constant.’

  Steinhoff absorbed another monumental intellectual blow. Planck’s constant was a number, a fixed number that was used in numerous scientific calculations. It was a universal rule, something that did not change, and something that could not change. It was a number that described a fundamental physical property of the universe – it could not be wrong. Everything that science did, or was, depended on this. Steinhoff was perplexed.

  ‘Why is it not constant, Gustav why?’

  ‘Not sooo… fast… wavelength… momentum… same.’

  ‘When are they the same?! Gustav when?!’

  ‘Small… veeery… very small… ten… minus… nine… ’

  Steinhoff didn’t understand.

  ‘Gustav, are you saying that wavelength and momentum are the same? But only when things are small?’

  ‘Yeees.’

  ‘I don’t understand, what has this got to do with rockets?’

  ‘Nothing… better than… rocket… faster… travel… to stars… ’

  With that Mayer slipped into unconsciousness, blood dripping from his nose and lips.

  Steinhoff gazed at Kessler as he tried to rationalise what he had heard. ‘I am not sure. I think the Professor has come up with some completely new propulsion concept based on quantum physics, but it doesn’t make sense. I cannot see how this idea has come about.’

  ‘Then wake him up! Find out! Doctor, more adrenalin and more of the truth drug! Now! Quickly!’ Kessler flashed a menacing look at the surgeon.

  The doctor gave the Professor another shot of adrenalin, and immediately followed this with another shot of the mescaline mixture. It took longer to take effect this time, and the adrenalin only just brought Mayer back to some kind of consciousness. It was a massive dose of adrenalin, and the doctor dared not give another injection.

  ‘Gustav, is it a novel propulsion system, how does it work?’

  ‘In part… more… much more… ’ Mayer coughed a fine spray of bloody saliva. His skin turned ash-grey from the effects of the drugs and oxygen deprivation.

  Mayer collapsed into silence.

  ‘Another injection! More adrenalin!’ ordered Kessler.

  ‘I cannot, another injection could kill him!’

  ‘Do it anyway!’

  The doctor did as he was told, and injected another syringe full of adrenalin. It was an enormous dose – he was surprised to see Mayer survive the injection.

  ‘Gustav, what is the engine made from, what material?’

  ‘Carbon… small… small… carbon cage… ’

  ‘Carbon; how small? What do you mean by cage?’ Steinhoff wasn’t following the idea.

  ‘Sixty… carbon… atoms.’

  ‘How do the carbon atoms work?’

  ‘Time… of flight… mass… to… energy… ’

  Mayer started to slip away. Steinhoff was overwhelmed by what he had just heard. He grabbed the Professor by the shoulders and desperately tried to shake him awake.

  ‘How do the carbon atoms work? What else do you need?’

  ‘Electric… field… ’

  ‘An electric field? What does the electricity do? How much voltage? Where does the carbon go?’ Steinhoff fired questions.

  ‘Acceleration… the… key… ’

  The last few words faded away as Professor Mayer slipped into a coma.

  Mayer fell through the dark chasm. Cool, moist air freshened his face. Walls of granite twinkled as they flashed by. He continued to fall, further and further into the earth. He did not seem to mind. Suddenly a crimson light issued from the pit, miles below.

  Mayer focused on the redness and accelerated through the gloom.

  Suddenly, a cave floor rushed up to meet him. Winded, but unhurt, he sat up.

  ‘Where am I?’

  ‘Hell, welcomes you… Professor Mayer!’ the beast roared, raising his whip.

  Crack!

  Searing pain erupted in his chest, blood welled up from the flesh wound.

  ‘Arghhh! What do you want from me?!’

  ‘Nothing. It’s not what I want from you, but what you want from me!’

  The beast laughed.

  ‘I don’t want anything. Let me go!’

  ‘Now, now… Professor Mayer… ’ The beast crouched closer, its foulness and stench filled Mayer’s nostrils. The creature spoke quietly. ‘… Search your feelings… there is something you want, isn’t there?’

  Mayer’s head slumped in shame. ‘Yes… yes there is… my Sophia… ’

  The devil cackled, cracking his whip in the air.

  ‘I can return her to you… put everything back as it was. I only ask for one thing in return.’ The devil snorted vileness and smiled.

  ‘What would you have me do?’ Mayer dabbed his fingers into the blood on his chest.

  ‘Give me the secret… give me the secret of your device!’

  The devil’s face suddenly transformed. Kessler stared back at him.

  ‘Give me the secret Professor Mayer… then everything will be yours… home… wife… even children.’

  Mayer yelled in defiance. ‘No! No! Never!’

  ‘Very well. If we cannot bargain… ’ The devil growled a deep belly laugh that echoed around the cavern. He clicked his fingers.

  A gangly wrath appeared, dragging his beloved Sophia towards oblivion.

  ‘Sophia! No! Leave her! Please, I will do anything… anything!’ Mayer sobbed.

  ‘The secret… the secret… and everything you love can be saved.’ The devil cracked his whip, opening another wound on Mayer’s chest.

  ‘Arghhh! Alright! Alright! But let her live… please… just let her live.’

  He beckoned the beast closer; sobbing, he whispered in its ear.

  The devil bellowed with laughter.

  Mayer stared into the abyss of his mind’s eye and despaired.

  CHAPTER 30

  Peenemünde

  Colonel Walter Dornberger called the team together in his new office at Peenemünde. The last few weeks had been a period of rapid change. Admiral Dönitz had chosen the new site well; remote from any big population centres and easily defended.

  Peenemünde sat at the end of a narrow spit of land on the Baltic coast. The spit was low-lying and exposed to the elements, but provided a natural defence. The new rocket base was essentially surrounded by water; with the sea to the north and the Peene River to the south.

  The beach along th
e spit stretched for miles at low tide. The sand flats were ideal for the test firing of rockets, and repelling any potential invading force. The river mouth of the Peene was equally well defended, with anti-aircraft batteries and machine gun posts concealed from the air by a dense line of pine trees. It would take a heavily armed flotilla to break through into the river, and even if they did, they would never make it ashore.

  Dönitz had provided Dornberger with ninety extra scientists and technicians to help establish the new rocket programme; including the brilliant physicist, Wernher von Braun and other top engineers from the Reich.

  Kessler made his report.

  ‘On domestic matters first of all, gentlemen… ’ He checked the figures in his notebook. ‘Yes, well, I can report that construction is more or less complete; including all the main laboratories, outbuildings, and quarters for the troops.’

  ‘That is good news; as you know, we are under some pressure from the Führer to keep to the new timetable,’ Dornberger interjected.

  ‘Well, we are on schedule. It also means we don’t need the slave labour anymore.’

  ‘What will happen to them?’ Steinhoff queried. Hitler had provided hundreds of Jews and Poles, slave labourers who worked to build the base.

  ‘My men will deal with it,’ Kessler smiled.

  ‘What does that mean?’ Steinhoff gave him a flat look.

  ‘Gentlemen, enough.’ Dornberger raised his hands. ‘Commandant Kessler will see to it that the prisoners are returned from whence they came.’

  Kessler nodded.

  Dornberger looked Kessler in the eye. ‘… And Commandant, there are to be no more summary executions… your men… I don’t approve of their methods.’

  ‘We are merely doing our Führer’s bidding. The labourers needed discipline; how else were we meant to hack this massive test facility from the wilderness in only a matter of months?’ Kessler gave a polite smile.

  Steinhoff changed the subject.

  ‘The new turbo booster is working well. As you know, it has taken some considerable time to figure out the details from Professor Mayer’s rough sketch; but it was worth the wait. A work of genius, I might add.’

  Dornberger nodded his approval.