The Kammersee Affair

by John Holt

  They proceeded following the course of the river. Surrounding the river was dense forest. As they came toward the end of the river, there was a small clearing, and the lake opened up in front of them. To either side of the lake were gently sloping earth banks, dotted with tall trees. Beyond the bank the ground climbed steeply forming high limestone cliff faces. As they came closer to the lake, they noticed a small wooden jetty. Adjacent to the pier was a small rowing boat, loosely tied to a mooring post. Drawing nearer they could see that the boat was lying partially underwater. It seemed that it had been there for some while. The group continued to walk around the curve of the lake.

  In front of them were a number of timber chalets. They appeared to be empty. On the ground around the buildings were items of discarded clothing, documents and papers. Their occupants had obviously left in a hurry.

  A short distance further on, the end of the lake came into sight. At the end of the lake was a large timber building. To one side was a timber platform floating on the lake. A second platform was fixed at the water’s edge. Cautiously they approached the building.

  Approximately one hundred and fifty yards from the building, shots suddenly rang out. Kadowski and his men dropped down, and took cover. Reynolds, Morris and Chandler were too slow, and were killed instantly. After a few moments, Kadowski raised his head, and looked over toward the building. On the opposite bank of the lake, there was a small group of German soldiers. “I see eight,” Kadowski whispered.

  “I see eight,” confirmed Scott. He raised his rifle, took aim, and fired. “Correction, I now see seven.” Scott ducked back just in time to avoid the hail of returning gunfire.

  “Okay, so there are seven of them, and five of us,” said Kadowski. “Just watch your steps guys, and make every shot count.”

  Kadowski looked up once again. As he did so there was more incoming gunfire. Then it stopped. Bartelli and Roberts raised their rifles above the undergrowth. Both found targets and fired rapidly. Roberts shot missed completely, but Bartelli wounded one in the shoulder. “They have our position now, and the range, so move forward, carefully,” Kadowski instructed.

  The five men crouched down, and slowly moved forward. Fifty yards further on, they stopped. Cautiously they raised their heads and immediately started to fire in the direction of the building.

  “Hey Sarge, they’ve gone,” Scott called out. “Look they’ve thrown down their weapons.”

  “Hold your fire,” Kadowski instructed. The firing ceased immediately. He looked across at the opposite bank. Sure enough he could see that their rifles had been discarded, and were now lying on the gravel bank. He looked around. There was no one in sight. “You’re right George,” Kadowski said incredulously. “It looks like they have gone.” He continued to scour the area, but found nothing. “We can’t be too certain though. So just keep alert.”

  There was complete silence. Kadowski slowly stood up, continuing to watch the far shore. There was no further sound. The area appeared to be deserted. Kadowski started walking toward the building. There was no further resistance. The soldiers had certainly gone. But why had they been there in the first place? And what was more important, were there any others around.

  “Well it looks like they have gone guys. But keep your eyes open,” he said. “There may be more of them around.”

  * * *

  Kadowski, closely followed by the others, reached the front of the building, and walked over to the main entrance. The door was lying open. It led into a corridor. Standing at the edge of the door Kadowski peered along the corridor. He could see a number of rooms, most of which appeared to be open. Just in front of him was a steel staircase.

  “Bartell, Roberts, you check down there,” Kadowski said, as he pointed along the corridor. “Scott and I will check down stairs. Bannister, you stay here, and keep watch. Back here in thirty minutes. And guys, be careful.”

  * * *

  Kadowski and Scott cautiously went down the stairs. They heard nothing, they saw nothing. A shaft of light extended down the stairs, and dissipated a short distance along the corridor. At the bottom of the stairs was a wide corridor. There was a dull light shining along the corridor. As before a number of rooms lead off to either side. Most of the doors were wide open.

  “Scott, be alert, there may be someone in any of those rooms up ahead,” Kadowski warned.

  The corridor was strewn with all manner of items. There were boxes, files, loose papers, and broken furniture. Obviously this area had been left in a hurry. The first area they came to was what appeared to be a control room of some kind. It contained a number of dials, and gauges, most of which had been smashed, and were now lying on the ground. In the office areas there were more documents and files lying around. In one corner there lay a large pile of scorched papers. Beyond the control room was a storeroom containing the remains of torpedos and missiles. Lying on the floor were dozens of broken boxes containing live ammunition.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later they had re-grouped by the main entrance. “There’s no sign of anyone downstairs,” said Kadowski.

  “No one up here either,” said Bartelli. “Obviously the building is deserted. It must have been vacated in a hurry.”

  “Yes you’re probably right,” said Kadowski. “But I keep thinking about those troopers we ran into. Why were they still here? Let’s take a look around outside.”

  As they left the building, and came out into the open again, Kadowski ordered them to spread out and look around.

  * * *

  “Over here Sarge,” Roberts called out loudly. “There’s something here.” He was standing at the edge of the clearing, staring at the ground.

  The others ran over to where he was standing to see what he had discovered. Kadowski was the last to arrive.

  “Look at these marks, Sarge,” Roberts started to explain. “It looks like something has been dragged through here, and I would say quite recently. You can see where tree branches have been hacked down to make room for something.”

  “What do you think it is Sarge?” asked Bartelli nervously.

  “Could be more German soldiers,” suggested Bannister.

  “Okay guys,” Kadowski said. “We better investigate, but keep your eyes peeled, and no stupid moves.” He turned toward Scott. “George, you and Bannister are to stay here. And keep alert.” He then turned to face the others. “Bartelli, and Roberts, you come with me.” Roberts had already moved forward. Bartelli and Kadowski hurried after him.

  * * *

  They had been walking for almost twenty minutes, when they heard the muffled sound of gunshots. Automatically, they all crouched down and took shelter. After the first burst of gunfire there came another. Then there was silence. After a short while, Kadowski ordered the men to move forward, to investigate the shots. They slowly made their way forward, in complete silence. Any instructions given by Kadowski were by his eyes only, or gesturing with his hands.

  A few minutes later they came upon a clearing opening on to another, much smaller, lake. It was surrounded by steeply sloping cliffs, which extended down to the water’s edge.

  As they came toward the lake, they could see a number of bodies lying at the lakeside. Cautiously they walked out into the clearing, and started to walk over to where they lay. Roberts suddenly darted forward. “They are German soldiers,” he yelled. Two shots suddenly rang out from the trees to his left. Roberts was struck high in the chest, and fell to the ground. As he fell he was hit in the right shoulder by the second shot. Kadowski and Bartelli hit the deck, rifles at the ready, eyes darting from one side to the other, trying to see if there was any activity in the direction from which the shots came. They stayed like that for a few moments, fully alert. There was the sound of trees rustling, then the sound of somebody running through the trees, then silence. Slowly they rose and walked over to where Roberts lay. He was dead.

  “Quick, get after that sniper,” Kadowski shouted to Bartelli. “But be careful.” Bartelli di
dn’t need to be told to take care, he was the most cautious person there was. He dropped his radio, and ran into the forest, his heart pounding fast, and sweat pouring from his forehead. Running was difficult. It was hard to see where you were going. The forest was densely planted with high trees, which blotted out much of the daylight. There had been a lot of rain, and the ground was quite slippery, and uneven. Bartelli lost his footing, on a number of occasions. Several times he had to stop in order to check his directions. In general he was following the river, leading back toward the test buildings. He hoped that was where his quarry was heading. Scott, Bannister, I hope you guys are awake, and keep your eyes open.

  Scott and Bannister had carried out an inspection of the vacant buildings, and had collected together much of the documents that had been left strewn around. These would be handed over to the Intelligence section, for examination and appraisal. They had examined the weapons and ammunition lying around. As far as they could tell, the weapons were serviceable, although firing pins were missing in most cases. As they continued their search, they suddenly heard a noise coming from the forest close to the building. They walked toward the area the noise came from, rifles raised, and safety catches off. Then they saw a shadow through the trees, and heard the sound of footsteps running toward them.

  “Stop,” yelled Bannister. “Put your hands up.”

  “Alte,” shouted Scott. “Hande hoch.”

  The footsteps stopped running. Then slowly they began to walk out from the forest toward the two US soldiers. Slowly a figure emerged from the dark shadows, with his hands held high into the air.

  “Don’t shoot,” the figure called out, as it approached the Americans.

  “Stop right there,” Scott this time. “Who are you?”

  “I am Major Deitich Hartman, my service number is 3428641. I am an SS Officer, until recently stationed here at this naval testing facility, as the Security Officer. I am now your prisoner.”

  “Keep him covered,” Scott told Bannister, and then moved closer to the stranger. “Unbuckle your holster,” he ordered. Hartman did as he had been ordered, and handed his weapon over. Scott put it to one side, and began tying Hartman’s hands behind him. As he did so, he was startled by another noise from the forest. Could it be another German? He signalled to Bannister to restrain Hartman, and put him inside the building. Scott then stationed himself behind a large boulder, rifle at the ready, and waited. The sound gradually got louder, and a second shadow emerged from the forest. “Halt,” Scott ordered. “Don’t come any further.”

  “Is that you, Scott?” a voice called out. “It’s me, Joe Bartelli. Whatever else you do, don’t shoot!” A scared, exhausted Bartelli walked slowly into the clearing. As he saw Scott, he gave a sigh of relief. He sank to the ground, and lay on his back, breathing rapidly. “Did anyone else come this way,” he asked.

  “Yes indeed, we caught a live one this time,” Scott replied. “What’s going on?”

  * * *

  Kadowski looked down at Roberts. He looked like he was asleep. The two large bullet wounds said differently. Sadly Roberts wasn’t just asleep. Kadowski gently placed his hand onto Roberts’ face and brushed a wisp of hair away from his forehead. Why had he run out like that? Why?

  Kadowski stood up, and slowly turned away. Then he walked over to where the four German troopers lay. Judging by the markings on their uniforms, they all appeared to be members of the same unit. As far as he could tell there was a Sergeant, a Corporal and two Privates. Two lay close to the lake. One had been shot in the back of the neck, and at close range. The second had just started to turn around before being hit. Probably actually facing his assassin. The other two lay several yards away, at the edge of the clearing, as though trying to run away. They had been killed by their own people. Killed? More like they had been murdered.

  It was clear that two of them had been in a kneeling position when they had been shot. Strangely all of the men were still armed, although their guns were securely in the holsters. It looked like the other two had tried to make a break for it, and were shot in the back. He noticed that one of them also had a large wound in the leg. Kadowski wondered what had happened. Who had shot these men, and why?

  Kadowski bent down and removed their identification markings, and their metal tags, and placed them inside his tunic pocket. The bodies would need to be buried. He would get hold of the rest of the guys, and deal with that later. In the meantime he decided to carry out a search of the area. There, by the lake were a number of broken pieces of timber, some carrying the sign of the Swastika, but there were no other identification marks that he could see. It was clear that the timber was part of a crate of some kind. There were no indications as to what it had contained, or, indeed, where the contents were now.

  Perhaps it had contained ammunition, but why bring it to this remote area, Kadowski wondered. He could see nothing to help in his search. Except, what were those gouges in the earth leading down to the edge of the lake? Or were they leading away from the lake? Kadowski moved closer to the water’s edge. Was there anything in the lake at that point? Even at the side of the lake the waters were quite dark, and he could see nothing. Possibly the lake was still quite deep, even at the edge. Then, quite suddenly he noticed some driftwood floating on the surface, just a short distance away. He broke off a branch, and caught hold of the timber, bringing it to the shore. It was about 350 mm long, and 120 mm wide, and clearly part of the same crate he had seen earlier. As he turned the piece over, he noticed a Swastika stamped on to the timber. Underneath the broken area was a single word – “Reichsbank.”

  This could only mean one thing. The crate must have originally come from the central German bank, the Reichsbank in Berlin. It had probably contained bank notes. Then it suddenly occurred to him that it wasn’t bank notes. It was more likely to be bullion, gold bars – Third Reich Gold. “And I’m willing to bet that there was more than one crate.”

  There was no more that Kadowski could do alone. He picked up the radio that had been discarded by Bartelli, and started to make his way back to the buildings at Toplitzsee. He would have to bring the guys back with him later. The German soldiers had to be buried, and Roberts would need to be attended to. Kadowski looked out across the clearing to where Roberts was lying. This war must end soon, another few days and he would have gone home. Now he would never be going home again. Kadowski remembered that he hadn’t picked up Roberts dog-tags. He went back over to him. The tags were nowhere to be seen.

  It was possible that the bullet had hit the tags, and they had been propelled some distance away, possibly into the lake itself. Kadowski looked around but could not see them. He reasoned that it wasn’t absolutely essential that they be found anyway. The guys could identify Roberts, and that was all that was required. Formal identification and confirmation that the guy was dead, that was sufficient. He turned away, and resumed his journey back to the test facility. As he walked along he wondered if there was any gold really, or was it just wishful thinking. Was he getting carried away and just imagining things? Putting two and two together and getting five.

  But then why were those German troops killed? Did they have something to do with it? Stupid, of course they did. They obviously carried the original crates to the lake. In fact they probably hid the contents somewhere. Then they were shot. The sniper must know a great deal about this affair. I hope the guys caught him. What about that bit of the timber crate from the Reichsbank? That must show that there must be gold, or at least, something valuable. Please let it be gold, and not Deutsmarks, which would have no value when the war was over. With that disappointing thought in mind, he continued on his way.

  He stopped suddenly, as he realised that sooner or later he would have to make a report to headquarters. Just exactly, what would he tell them? Certainly he would have to report the deaths of Private Roberts, and the other guys. Then he would have to make a report about the four German soldiers, and the sniper, and hopefully his capture, and the crates
and…. Then the realisation of the situation struck him, hard. He hadn’t intended to mention the gold to anyone. Not yet anyway. He had planned on keeping that to himself, and the other three.

  But if he mentioned the dead soldiers, and the sniper, there would be all kinds of questions, and enquiries. Supposing they have captured the sniper, he would be taken back to headquarters, and there would be more questions. Details of the gold were bound to come out. The authorities would be all over the place. We wouldn’t get a look in.

  Even though he hadn’t yet found any gold, Kadowski could feel it slipping from his grasp. Hang on I’m not even 100% sure that there is any gold yet, and I’m already worrying about losing it. He shivered involuntarily, was it with nerves, or the cold. He stopped, and felt the air around him. Sure it was getting cold, and it looked like rain. With the thoughts of gold bullion, snipers, and German troops, tumbling over and over, in his mind, he continued on his way, and reached the test complex shortly afterwards.

  As Kadowski stepped out from the trees, the sky darkened, there was a loud clap of thunder, and the rain started to fall. He saw the others seated on a low wall near the entrance to the building. They stood up and Scott started to run to meet him. “Where’s Terry?” he asked.

  “He didn’t make it,” said Kadowski, simply and quietly, slowly walking past him toward the building.

  Scott stopped. He could not grasp what he had just heard. He stood motionless; his hands were clammy with sweat. Suddenly he felt very cold. His friend, Terry, was dead. No that can’t be, he’s not dead. He’ll be along soon.

  Scott turned to look toward the forest. But there was no one there and he knew that it must be true. Terry had been killed, and I wasn’t there to look after him. “I should have been with him, when he needed me,” he said. As he turned back toward the building he vowed to avenge his friend, if it was the last thing he ever did.

  He would avenge his friend, whatever it took, and as long as it took.