Out of Mecklenburg

by James Remmer

  ‘What did you think about that business back there, Hans?’

  ‘I presume you’re referring to the gold we’re not supposed to know about, General?’

  ‘Yes. What’s your opinion?’

  ‘Well, the way things are going, sir, the British and Americans will be shaking hands with their Russian counterparts in less than six months. Back there,’ he continued, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder, ‘there’s enough gold to finance a new beginning for someone, a beginning that’s set to start at a place where there’s a harbour, an airstrip and a float plane station – Priwall!’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning someone’s planning on going away for quite a long time and they’re not taking Reichsmarks as spending money. When the war’s over, gold will be the most widely negotiable commodity in the world, aside from the US dollar.’

  ‘Hans, your analysis is well conceived and very precise. You should have been a Field Marshal.’

  Steiger laughed. ‘You know, the other evening, Greta and I were sitting in the parlour wondering how we’ll cope with the inevitable. Oddly enough, she is almost resigned to it. In a way, I suppose it’s different for us, not having any children. We’ll just take our chance with whatever comes along.’

  ‘Anna and I have already given that some thought, Hans.’

  ‘You mean, what you’ll do when the Russians arrive?’

  ‘Yes, we’ve discussed it frequently. When the time comes, as it most certainly will, we’d like you and Greta to come to Flensburg with us.’

  ‘Well, I…’

  ‘Don’t argue with me, Hans, I’m a senior officer of the Wehrmacht! Besides, Ingrid’s as keen as anyone to get you up there. It’s a big house; there’s room for all of us, Jürgen and Katrina included.’

  ‘Thank you, General. Talking of big houses… I didn’t say anything at the time, but I think I know the place Keppler was boasting about. It’s not a house, it’s a mansion; north-east of Bützow, used to belong to the Gluecksmanns. It’s about ten kilometres from Harald’s farm.’

  They sat quietly for a while, neither saying anything. Then, as if prompted by a psychic consensus of thought, both spoke in unison: ‘We could always…’

  Steiger laughed. The General smiled and stroked his chin.

  ‘What was it you said, when we first walked into that vault ... something about the wood?’

  ‘It was pine. I noticed the smell of resin immediately.’

  ‘You’re sure it was pine?’

  ‘Positive. When I was at Harald’s the other week, I helped him size down a large load of timber. All pine.’ Steiger briefly took one hand off the wheel to show the General his right palm. ‘That’s how I got the blisters.’

  ‘And this timber, is there any left?’

  ‘Mountains of it.’ Steiger was still on the General’s train of thought. ‘General, are you seriously suggesting that we should…?’

  ‘At the moment, Hans, I’m not suggesting anything. I’m merely thinking, and I always think better with a large brandy. Let’s stop off at the Gröbler for a drink. Oh, and by the way, you know the arrangement we have when we’re alone; cut out the general bit, otherwise I’ll address you as warrant officer.’

  Frau von Menen was busy penning a letter to her sister, Ingrid, when the General walked into the drawing room. He bent down and kissed her on the forehead.

  ‘The Delahaye… it’s not in the garage. Is Carl out?’

  ‘Yes, gone to Berlin. Someone phoned him this morning, about eight-thirty. Seemed strangely pleased with himself when he left.’

  ‘Interesting,’ muttered the General. ‘Did he say when he’d be back?’

  ‘Tomorrow, hopefully… Which reminds me, do you recall Ulricht Hoffman, served with Carl in the army? Tall, good-looking young man.’

  ‘Yes, nice fellow… transferred to the Luftwaffe, I think.’

  ‘Yes. Sadly, his wife was killed in an air raid last March… He’s been left with a young daughter to bring up.’

  ‘Dear me, how awful.’

  ‘Carl said they were on the same flight to Berlin. He’s hoping to see him again this evening.’

  ‘Very well,’ said the General. ‘Give my regards to Ingrid.’

  He left his wife to her letter-writing, reflecting that the talk with his son would have to be put off for a day. But perhaps that was for the best. There was a lot to think about.

  20

  Thursday 16th November 1944

  The full misery of winter weather had descended upon Mecklenburg. It was wet, windy and bitterly cold.

  In the half-light of early morning, General von Menen bundled Yeremenko into the back of the Mercedes and set off along myriad rain-soaked country roads. By eight o’clock, they had reached the foot of an incline rising steadily in the direction of Holdorf.

  A motorcycle, closing fast from behind, flashed by at high speed, crested the horizon and disappeared. The General pulled up, reversed down the road and steered the car on to the verge, a thought pricking at his mind.

  On the right was the Radegast River, flanked by the Gadebusch–Rehna railway line; on the left, a pocket of dense woodland, which followed the road to the point where the motorcycle had vanished over the horizon. Though hard to detect, a track, part-hidden by a clump of elderberry, led into the wood.

  Yeremenko sat obediently beside the car, waiting for the General’s command.

  ‘Go!’ The dog shot across the road and scampered into the wood.

  Stark, leafless shapes of oaks, false acacias and beeches stretched towards a threatening leaden sky. It was a damp, cheerless place, the silence broken only by the General’s footsteps swishing in the long, wet grass and the sound of Yeremenko rummaging in the distance. Fifty metres from the road, the track funnelled out into a wide clearing, where stood an abandoned makeshift shelter.

  Charcoal burners.

  To the south, across open farmland, the road to Gadebusch stretched out like an arrow for at least a kilometre and a half. The dog came bounding back, sat to heel, panting heavily, a long pink tongue dangling from his open jaw.

  ‘This is it, Yeremenko,’ said the General, gently patting the dog’s head. ‘This… is… it.’

  Gone to Lübeck South Hospital with Katrina and Greta – visiting the wounded brought back from Memel. We’ve taken the BMW. Back about three.

  Love Anna.

  P.S. Carl phoned. He’ll be back at seven tonight; mentioned something about having to call at Borsigwalde (?) first.

  General von Menen studied the note, picked up the telephone and called Steiger. A few minutes later, a knock sounded on the drawing room door.

  ‘Come in, Hans!’ Standing by the cocktail cabinet, the General held a glass of brandy in each hand. ‘One for you and one for me.’

  ‘Thank you, General, but isn’t it a little—’

  ‘It’s Klaus, Hans,’ said the General, cutting him short. ‘You know the rules. And yes, it is a bit early, but you might feel the need for it later. For the moment, a toast: to brave and absent friends.’ Their glasses met with a chink. The General paused, then looked straight at Steiger. ‘How long have we known each other, Hans? Twenty-eight years?’

  ‘Give or take a few months,’ agreed Steiger. ‘And I’d do it all over again.’

  ‘Likewise.’ Taking a sip from his glass, the General settled into his chair, Steiger sitting opposite. ‘The unfortunate thing is, my friend, age aside, we’re not likely to get the chance to do it all over again. For us, and for Germany, the future is very grim. When the Russians get here, the events of 1918 will seem like a tea party. Now—’

  ‘First, Klaus, if I might be so bold,’ interrupted Steiger.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘As I was saying to Carl the other day, I believe I know you bette
r than any other person… except, of course, Anna…’

  ‘I wouldn’t argue with that, Hans.’

  ‘So before you say what I suspect you’re about to say, I wonder if I might save you the trouble?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Just how do you propose we should do it?’

  Five seconds elapsed before the General’s stoical expression broke into a smile, replaced quickly by a look of solemnity. ‘You do realise that if we’re caught, we’ll be shot,’ he said grimly.

  ‘If we’re lucky,’ contended Steiger.

  ‘There’ll be no hiding behind service records.’

  ‘We won’t be caught, Klaus. We’d have to be pretty damn dumb to be outwitted by that bunch.’

  ‘I know, but it’s not just the two of us I’m thinking about; it’s Anna, Greta and the others. If there’s the slightest indication that things are going wrong, I propose that we pack them off to Flensburg at once. Agreed?’

  ‘Absolutely. So, when and where do we start?’

  ‘All in good time, Hans. For the moment, we have a sticky problem. You see, for what I have in mind, we’ll need an extra…’ Without warning, he suddenly switched tack. ‘Borsigwalde, in north-west Berlin…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Do they still produce ordnance at the munitions works there?’

  ‘As far as I know they do, yes.’

  ‘Even after the October raid?’

  ‘I believe so. Is it relevant?’

  ‘Oh, just a feeling I have. Anna left a note… Carl telephoned that he’d be home about seven, had to call at Borsigwalde first. I have a sneaky suspicion that he meant he was heading for the munitions works… but more about that later. Now, where was I?’

  ‘You said, “we’ll need an extra…”?’

  ‘Oh, yes… We’ll need an extra pair of hands.’

  Steiger’s eyes were like two large question marks. ‘Who do you have in mind?’

  The General answered in a very quiet voice. ‘Carl.’

  Steiger inched to the edge of his chair. ‘Will he agree?’

  ‘Well, if he doesn’t, we’ll abandon the whole idea. There’s no one else we can ask… Manfred is tied up at Bernau and Jürgen is at sea most of the time. Carl’s our only hope.’

  ‘And assuming he agrees, then what?’

  ‘How much could we get in the Steyr?’

  ‘Over half a tonne, at least.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘I’m certain.’

  ‘In that case, what I said to Keppel about the odd twenty boxes wasn’t far short of the truth. Twenty should be enough. We shouldn’t be too greedy.’

  ‘So, what do you have in mind?’

  ‘A simple plan – we’ll just switch the boxes. Twenty of theirs for twenty of ours… Now, the boxes—’

  Steiger jumped in. ‘They’d have to be exactly the same, Klaus. We can’t simply guess the measurements.’

  ‘We’re not going to. Let’s start with the thickness of the timber. What’s your opinion?’

  ‘I’d say two centimetres.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  ‘But the depth, width and length, well, I don’t know,’ said Steiger, shaking his head.

  ‘I do,’ hastened the General. ‘When the tip of my cane was touching the floor, the handle was level with the top of the highest box; I counted the number of boxes and I know exactly how long my cane is. The rest was easy to work out.’ He handed Steiger his cane. ‘Draw your hand along the lower part of it. Can you feel the two indentations?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I made them with my thumbnail… Those indentations are equal to the length and width of one of the boxes. I assume they were all the same size?’

  ‘They looked uniform to me,’ said Steiger.

  ‘Good. Now, what about the rope handles?’

  ‘Ordinary ten-millimetre hemp rope, passed through pre-drilled holes and knotted on the inside, I’d reckon,’ said Steiger. ‘There’s a whole reel of it at the garage block.’

  ‘And the nails, did you notice the nails?’

  ‘Yes, all bright and shiny.’

  ‘Can we get any?’

  ‘No need; we’ve enough nails to put ten thousand boxes together, let alone twenty.’

  ‘But they’ll be as rusty as hell.’

  ‘They won’t be by the time I’ve finished with them.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll leave that to you. Tomorrow, I’m going to pack Schwartz off on a fortnight’s leave. The cook and the housekeeper can take a break, too, which leaves Anna, Greta and Katrina. Perhaps I can talk Anna into going up to Flensburg the day after tomorrow. She’ll be only too happy to take Greta and Katrina with her. Now, from the logistics point of view, the really difficult part will call for all your… resourcefulness.’

  Cocking an ear to the window, Steiger stuffed the piece of notepaper in his pocket. ‘The ladies are back – sounds like the BMW.’

  ‘Well, let’s leave it for now. There’s not much more we can do until Carl gets back this evening.’ Eyes fixed on the clock, the General drummed out a slow tempo with his fingers on the highly polished side table.

  ‘Something troubling you, Klaus?’

  ‘It’s just that, well, I think it would be best if we spoke to Carl together. If I speak to him myself, he’ll probably think I’m off my head. He’ll be knocking on your door within seconds.’

  Steiger smiled, but said nothing.

  ‘I’ll give you a call when he returns. And, Hans?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘We’ll have to move fast.’

  When Frau von Menen entered the drawing room, the General was bent over the fireplace, incinerating the last of his nefarious plan.

  ‘You’ve just missed Hans, darling,’ he said. ‘I’ve been telling him about our proposal to move up to Flensburg.’

  ‘Good, I’m glad. I’ve been wanting to tell Greta for days.’

  He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Where’s Katrina?’

  ‘She’s gone up to her room to rest.’

  ‘Is she all right?’

  ‘I think so, but she found the visit to the hospital quite harrowing. She’s finally come to terms with the reality of the situation.’ Frau von Menen looked dejectedly into the fire. ‘We’ve listened to some awful stories today. Those poor men, they really do need comforting. Poor girl, she never stopped talking about it all the way home.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘Of course you can, Klaus. I’m sorry. You and Hans know better than any of us.’

  In her innocence, she had given him the excuse he was looking for. ‘Nothing to forgive, Anna. Let’s just say that Hans and I are the lucky ones and leave it at that. As a matter of fact, it’s not far short of something I want to speak to you about.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘I think we should start making preparations to move to Flensburg as soon as possible.’

  ‘What, right away?’ She reached out and tugged at his sleeve. ‘Have you heard something?’ she asked nervously.

  ‘No, but December is coming up fast,’ said the General, struck by a sudden feeling of guilt. ‘And before we know where we are, it’ll be 1945. By then, who knows where the Russians will be.’

  Frau von Menen pondered the idea. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said. ‘I hadn’t quite thought of it that way.’

  ‘Sorry, Anna, but we must start thinking about it. I was wondering if you, Katrina and Greta might go up there the day after tomorrow, start arranging things with Ingrid; you know, accommodation, that sort of thing. We ought not to be leaving it to the last moment. Besides, Greta loves it up there and there’s nothing to keep Katrina here. I’ll release Ursula and Elizabet for a couple of weeks.
Maybe Schwartz, too.’

  She stood before him, her face full of a hollow expression, arms tucked tightly against her bosom, her chin resting on her clasped hands. ‘The things we’ve heard today… Klaus, truthfully, how long do you think we’ve got before the Russians arrive?’

  He cupped her face in his hands. ‘About four months, I’d say, maybe five, but we’ll be up on the Danish border by then. They won’t get that far.’

  ‘Dear God.’

  ‘It’ll be all right, Anna. We’ll be safe in Flensburg. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll speak to Katrina and Greta this afternoon. You’re sure the three of you will be okay?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Should we take the BMW?’

  ‘Yes, and Hans will make sure you have enough petrol to get you there and back. But please stay clear of Kiel. The Allies are keen on destroying the docks.’

  Von Menen arrived back shortly after six, looking like the cat who’d caught the pet budgerigar without quite knowing what to do with it.

  ‘Is there something wrong, Carl?’ asked his mother.

  ‘Er… no,’ von Menen replied hesitantly, glancing at the General, ‘but there is something I have to tell you both. There’s no point in me beating about the bush. I’m leaving the country again, all very hush-hush. They want me to go back to South America.’ He paused again, hoping that the psychic would reach his father. ‘They want me to try and re-establish diplomatic relations with Argentina.’

  ‘When is this likely to happen, Carl?’ asked the General, fearing that his entire plan was about to collapse.

  ‘Six or seven weeks, maybe, but I’ve a lot of work to do first.’

  Consciously aware that something was still not right, his mother sat down on the edge of von Menen’s chair, a strand of hair dropping down over her cheek, her face resembling a piece of choice Dresden china with a fine crack.

  ‘There’s something else, too, isn’t there?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, Mother, there is.’