by Hugh Ashton
“Yes, sir. I agree entirely. Let’s bring him home and put him behind the German desk again. The American experience has been good for him, I suppose, and he’s said to be still doing good work there when he’s not drinking, though. He’s doing a good job mending stable doors—”
“After the horse has bolted,” interjected the Minister acidly.
“Indeed, so, sir. But he’s helping them put new locks on the stable doors—initiating new security procedures and so on. He seems to have maintained a personal peace with Gatt, at any rate, which is a mercy. And he’s still good friends with that Pole fellow, you know, the colored chappie who worked with him in London for a while.”
“Yes, of course I remember you talking about him. Nice chap, you said. Lucky beggar married that rich girl the other fellow shot himself over, didn’t he?”
“Yes, sir. I liked the bloke a lot, and I’m happy he’s done so well over there. To think of someone like that being a slave…”
“Shocking, shocking,” agreed the Minister. “Tea?” He pressed the bell, and a secretary entered to whom he gave the order for tea to be brought. “And talking of that despicable subject, now that we know that the Bismarck’s set sail for the Confederacy, or whatever it is that the damn things do, it does rather look as though the German-Confederate alliance is about to come off, doesn’t it? And that might well lead to the institution of slavery in 20th-century Europe. There’s no way we can allow that.”
“But are we in any position to prevent it, sir?”
“I agree, C, all the name-calling and shouting in the League of Nations isn’t going to change Herr Hitler’s mind. Do you have anything in mind, C?”
“I’m sorry to say, sir, that there seem to be no immediate courses of action we can take. We were rather betting that the destruction of the Bismarck or its shed and the failure to complete the propaganda mission would deal such a severe blow to morale that it would take them some time to recover. Now that doesn’t seem to be on the cards any more, I think we’re a bit stuck.”
“And what about this Trojan treasure business, C? What do we make of all that?”
“Quite frankly, sir, it’s more than a trifle bizarre. I’ve never heard of such a thing before as a diplomatic move, particularly as we understand that the Germans don’t expect the Confederates to hang on to the stuff. Apparently, there’s a dealer in Los Angeles in California acting as a front for a syndicate. It will pump quite a lot of hard currency into the Confederate economy—enough to form the start of a few new industries, we estimate.”
“It’s going to upset the Turks all over again, I suppose, when the news gets out?”
“Please sir, let’s not complicate things any more than we have to at this stage.”
“All right,” agreed the Minister. “Let’s leave the Turks out of it for now.”
“Of course,” pointed out C, “if Hitler and Davis also sign the trade agreement in Richmond, as we’ve heard they’re going to do, then that’s more money to the Confederacy, and it’s also a big gain for the Germans, especially with the oil that could come out of Texas. Before all this business really started to blow up in our faces, the report that Dowling and Pole provided told us that this oil could be a real asset for the Nazis.”
“And that oil might fuel Hitler’s drive for expansion?” the Minister punned. “What’s Hitler’s word that he uses all the time? Lebensraum? Living space?”
“Yes, sir. That’s the word and its meaning. Yes, to be frank, I think a Nazi Germany with ready access to a continued supply of oil would be ready and willing to attack its neighbors. Of course we could institute a blockade again, but those bloody U-boats nearly had us last time, and if Hitler has bases on the Confederate coast… It’s very chancy, sir.”
“Any risk the Confederates would attack the USA, do you think, C?”
“No, sir, I don’t think that’s a possibility. I think they’re sensible enough to know that something like that would be biting off more than they could chew. Right now, anyway. Who can say about the future?”
“So what do I tell the PM at this afternoon’s Cabinet meeting?”
“Tell him that storm-clouds are gathering, and the weather forecast is far from good.”
Chapter 41: Cordele Airship Station, Georgia, Confederate States of America
“May God be with us all in the hours to come.”
“You should never have let him get on board the airship!” shouted Brian. He, Vickers and Weisstal were huddled together, out of view of the crowds, discussing their next move.
“There was no way I could stop him without making a scene, Captain. We had all the VIPs around, and their aides. Just bear that in mind, please. I like the boy as well, you know.”
“Can we ask Eckener to let him jump out along with the crew?” asked Vickers.
“Of course we can,” said Weisstal. “Captain, you’re worrying about nothing. Our friend is safe.”
“What about you?” Vickers asked Brian. “How confident are you?”
“I’m ready,” said Brian, nodding towards the two duffel bags at his feet.
“Are you sure you’ll be able to get out afterwards?” enquired Weisstal. Various plans had been discussed for Brian to leave the base in the anticipated confusion following the abandoning of the airship, and to make his way to Richmond, where as a British subject, if not as a Crown employee, he should be able to take refuge in the British Legation until the new Confederate government was established.
“I think so,” said Brian. “All other things being equal.”
Weisstal nodded. “Good luck to you, Captain.”
“How long has the Bismarck been gone?” asked Vickers.
Weisstal pulled out a stopwatch. “Fifty-seven minutes and thirty-three seconds. Eckener was planning a two-hour flight, which means they will be radioing their turn soon, and we can expect them back in about an hour. I must be getting back. My people will wonder where I’ve got to.”
“The same here,” said Vickers. “I’ll be missed. May God be with us all in the hours to come,” he added piously.
“Amen to that,” agreed Weisstal.
“Amen,” added Brian, after a short pause. The others left, and Brian was left alone, behind the airship shed, with his two kitbags for company.
Chapter 42: On board Bismarck, 2000 feet over Georgia, Confederate States of America
“Do you think that it’s right to keep other people as slaves?”
Over the past thirty minutes, Hugo Eckener had further revised his opinion of Hermann Goering, who had taken it upon himself to act as the tour guide for the Confederate dignitaries visiting the control car. Listening to his explanations to the visitors of the workings and operations of the giant dirigible, Eckener was more than impressed by the amount and depth of knowledge that the Air Minister had acquired.
He was actually grateful to the man for relieving him of the duty of playing host to a group of men whom he cordially disliked on principle. At the moment, thanks to the crew members who’d left when the Confederate visitors boarded, the crew of Bismarck was under strength, and almost all hands, including Eckener himself, had no chance to relax, or do anything except carry out their assigned tasks.
He thought about the hour ahead. Could he really abandon these people to their fate? he asked himself. Was he really prepared to allow fifty people to die? When he thought of the Nazis, and what he knew of them, he had few doubts, terrible as it seemed to him when he considered. He knew less about the Confederates, of course, but from what he knew of the continued slavery of the blacks, and the way in which President Davis and his cronies governed the country, Eckener’s conscience was relatively clear.
If truth be told, he admitted to himself, he was far more worried about losing Bismarck than his passengers. He was under few illusions that Bismarck would be salvageable, and he had a duty to his shareholders, as well as to the public, who wanted desperately to believe in the Zeppelins as a symbol of German progress and rebirth follo
wing the horrors of the Great European War and the vicious blockade by the British which had killed so many through starvation. Then he remembered the swastikas emblazoned on the tail of Bismarck, and felt a little better. He sincerely hoped that if Bismarck were to crash and burn, the newsreel cameras would faithfully record the fiery end of the Nazi symbol. He gritted his teeth, and scanned the horizon ahead.
The speaking-tube from the radio car whistled. “Captain Eckener to the radio car, immediately,” came a voice that Eckener recognized as the one of Letz.
“You have the conn, Müller.” Eckener formally handed over control to his second in command. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” said Eckener, squeezing through the crowd of fascinated Confederate politicians. “Herr Minister,” to Goering, “my sincere congratulations on an excellent series of explanations. Please continue, and if you have any questions, I am sure Leutnant Müller will be delighted to answer them.” Goering smiled, and bowed slightly in reply.
Eckener hauled himself up the ladder to the keel catwalk, and hurried aft to the radio car hatch and ladder. He climbed cautiously down the ladder to the radio car, avoiding the gap in the enclosing hoops where Dorfmann had slipped to his death only a few hours previously.
Letz was waiting for him in the radio car, holding out the message form.
“Sir, I think this is it, sir.” Letz seemed excited.
“Calm yourself, Letz. We’ll find out what it’s all about, shall we?” Eckener took the message and read it out loud.
To Dr. Hugo Eckener, commanding airship Bismarck.
When over Cordele station, approach from west towards shed, and descend to two hundred meters before releasing treasure pod and evacuating crew. In addition to crew, essential to also evacuate Army of the Confederacy Sergeant David Slater. Before evacuation, ensure no parachutes remain on airship except those required by crew and Slater.
Major G. Weisstal, Commander, German forces, Cordele.
“Two hundred meters,” commented Eckener. “That really doesn’t give us a lot of time to open the parachutes. Has either of you two ever made a parachute jump?” he asked the radiomen.
“No, sir.” They shook their heads in unison.
“Me neither,” said Eckener cheerfully. “After all these years. Still, we’ve all been through the training, so you know what you should be doing. I’ll give you the signal from the control car. And when I say move, do it quickly. Letz, you must send a reply signal confirming that we understand and will comply. Becker, I want you to alert everyone in all the engine nacelles about what’s going to happen. Tell them that on no account are they to use the voice-pipes to talk to the control car or to question this. Just wait for the signal on the telegraph, which will be “full ahead” quickly followed by “full astern”, repeated once, at an altitude of about 200 meters over Cordele. Then tell them to stop the engines and jump as soon as possible. They should pull the ripcord as soon as they’re clear of the propellers. Get them to put on their parachutes now and wait for the signal. Oh, and any spare parachutes in the engine nacelles to go overboard as soon as they’re sure everyone has their own parachute. Get onto it now.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Becker left through the hatch.
“Letz, get that signal off now,” to the other radioman, who had been sitting there with his mouth open. He grabbed a piece of paper from the desk and started calculating. “I make it that forty-two extra parachutes that we have to dispose of, forty-one when we take into account this Sergeant Slater, whoever the devil he may be. Why is he so important?”
Eckener climbed out of the radio car, and made his way forward through the crew quarters. With the skeleton crew remaining, almost no-one was off watch, but Eckener conscientiously moved through every compartment, ensuring all crew were alerted and satisfying himself that all riggers were accounted for.
He gathered as many crew and riggers as possible together in the mess area and addressed them. “I’m not going to go into details why we’re doing all this, but I want you to do the following without question. Go into the passenger areas, and get all the stewards out of there up here. Then collect all the parachutes from all of the emergency stations. Don’t leave any behind, but bring them all back here. Sort them all out, take one each and throw the rest overboard. For God’s sake, make sure you all, including the stewards, have one each before you start throwing the others out. Take them down aft and throw them out through one of the aft hatches. Then put on the parachute you’ve taken, and wait for my signal over the voice-pipe to jump out of the airship. Pull your ripcords as soon as you leave the ship—we’ll be quite low.”
He looked at his watch. “All this will be happening in about forty minutes from now. I said no questions, Rähmer. Just do what I say.”
“Sir,” persisted Rähmer. “My question’s not about why we’re doing this. I think we can all guess something about what’s going on, and speaking for myself, I have no problems with that.” There was a growl of agreement from the crew. Good, thought Eckener to himself. The last thing he wanted was another Dorfmann causing problems. The memory made him wince, as a shaft of pain shot up his back. “My question is what we’re going to tell the passengers, sir.”
“Good thought, Rähmer. Thank you. Tell the passengers that it’s normal landing safety procedures or something. After all, they haven’t been through a landing yet. For all they know, we clear away the parachutes when we’re coming in to land.” He’d have to concentrate, he told himself. He was getting tired. The struggle with Dorfmann had taken more out of him than he supposed. He reminded himself again that he was nearly sixty. Too old. “Right, men, get to it. Oh, Rähmer, one more thing for you.”
“Sir?”
“Before you start collecting parachutes, find me Confederate Sergeant Slater from the passengers and send him to me in the control car, where I’m going now.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Eckener made his way forward and down to the control car, where Goering was just finishing what must have been a long, and surprisingly accurate, from what Eckener heard, lecture on Great Circle navigation. He had, however, failed to notice that he had lost his audience some time ago. However Eckener waited for a suitable gap in the flow of words before interrupting.
“Bravo, Herr Minister. Your grasp of navigational principles is most impressive and I almost believe my officers and I could learn a lot from you if you were to continue your fascinating lecture. However, gentlemen, I must ask you all to return to the passenger accommodation while we prepare for our final landing.” There was a move towards the ladder, and Eckener noticed with amusement a look of relief on more than one face at being delivered from Goering’s instruction.
The Confederate politicians made their way up the ladder. Eckener was glad to see that the corpulent General Harrison had not been a visitor to the control car. Eckener doubted his ability to climb up and down the ladder, and had been surprised that the companionways had been large enough for his bulk when he boarded.
As the control car emptied, Eckener thanked Goering once again for his efforts in keeping the visitors entertained, as a youth in Confederate Army sergeant’s uniform made his way down the ladder.
“You again?” asked Goering curiously to the youth.
“You know each other?” asked Eckener incredulously. It seemed hard to believe that a Minister of the Reich would have anything to do with a Confederate non-commissioned officer.
“Oh yes,” replied a smiling Goering. “David and I have been friends for a long time now.” He waved, as he climbed the ladder. Eckener noticed that he favored one leg as he did so.
Eckener waited until Goering had gone, and closed the ladder hatchway.
“Sergeant Slater,” he said in rusty, but understandable English. “You have some strange friends, I think?”
“The Minister is no friend of mine, Captain,” said the Sergeant. Eckener had to attune his ear to the strange accent, but he got the meaning.
“I was not just talking about Minis
ter Goering, Sergeant. Do you know a Major Weisstal?”
“Yes, sir. We have spent a lot of time together and he has been very friendly and kind to me. He has taught me a lot about airship ground handling procedures, and he and I play chess together sometimes.”
Very strange, thought Eckener. He had never thought of Weisstal as preferring boys, but then it just went to show how little you knew about a man. Still, the youth didn’t seem that type, either.
“I have just had a radio message from Major Weisstal. We—the crew, I mean—will jump by parachute from the airship when we reach Cordele. You will jump with us.”
“And the passengers? President Davis, and his Cabinet? And Goering and Hitler?”
“They will remain on board,” replied Eckener sternly. He watched Slater carefully. A look of horror, followed by understanding, crossed the sergeant’s face.