On Desperate Ground (33 page)

Hettstedt did not hesitate for a moment. “What do you want me to do?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

13 April 1945

Kurfürstendamm

Berlin, Germany

The staff car sped along the
Kurfürstendamm
through the
Grünewald
, the forested park on the southwestern edge of Berlin. The headlights were taped over except for a small slit on each, allowing a narrow spot of light to shine on the rain-soaked pavement. It was two o’clock in the morning, and there was no other traffic on the road. The
Kurfürstendamm
, or Ku-Dam as it was known to Berliners, was the main artery into the city from the south. The road wound through the forest before entering the suburbs and then into the once-elegant final stretch with its smart shops and cafes, now blasted into heaps of rubble. A truck followed closely behind the large car.

Dieter gazed out the window, thinking wistfully of the long hikes he and Elsa had taken through these woods. It seemed ages ago and so unreal. Then he looked around at the occupants of the vehicle, and he realized this was as unreal as he ever imagined anything could be.

Jost Brunner was driving, and sitting next to him in the front seat was Hans von Schierke, dressed in a SS uniform taken from one of their prisoners. It matched the uniform Dieter wore, also taken from an SS guard. Colonel Faust lounged in the seat opposite him in the rear passenger compartment of the staff car, resplendent and aristocratic as always in his own
Wehrmacht
uniform. Next to Dieter sat a very nervous Otto Hettstedt, wringing his hands worriedly, plagued by second thoughts.
 

“Colonel Faust,” Hettstedt said in a whining voice. “Are you certain you want to go through with this? Not only is it dangerous, but why should you risk your life for this woman? She is clearly guilty of harboring Jews.”

“I don’t give a damn about the Jews. I need Neukirk focused on Operation Gambit,” Faust snapped back at him. He softened his tone, regretting the outburst. He wanted Hettstedt to be a confident, willing partner in what they were about to do. “He plays a critical role that can be filled by no one else. I don’t want him worried about his fiancée in a Gestapo cell when the future of the Reich hangs in the balance.”

Hettstedt did not reply, but continued to wring his hands even more rapidly.

Faust removed Hettstedt’s pistol from his coat pocket. He removed the bullets from the clip and one from the chamber, replaced the empty clip and handed the Walther to Hettstedt.
 

“Here. Take your pistol.”

“Unloaded? What if I need it?”

“Don’t worry. Neukirk and von Schierke will be with you at all times. Think of them as your personal bodyguard. I will be with you also.”
 

“Hans,” Dieter said, “do you have your silencer?”

Hans reached inside his greatcoat and pulled out a Walther P-38 with a silencer attached to the barrel. He held it up for Hettstedt to see.

“The Count will protect you,” Faust said, smiling at his little joke. “But he will also quietly kill you if you betray us. There should be no reason for that, right Otto?” Hettstedt nervously nodded in agreement. The car slowed a bit as they left the
Grünewald
and entered the city proper.

“Coming up on the Tiergarten, Colonel,” Jost said. “We should be there in ten minutes, barring any roadblocks.”

“Very well.” Faust looked straight at Hettstedt. “Remember Otto, once we’re done here, you are safe with us. We keep our bargains. You can get rid of that SS uniform and we’ll put you in a Major’s uniform of the Wehrmacht. Once we are back in the field we’ll lead you to the American lines and you can give yourself up. You won’t be alone. You will finish out the war safe in an officer’s POW camp, with no embarrassing questions about your SS duties. And no Russians.”

“Yes, yes,” Hettstedt stammered. “You will keep your bargain?”

“The Colonel already told you,” Dieter said grimly. “Do not doubt anything he promises. Anything.” Hettstedt took his meaning, and kept quiet.

“All right, listen,” Faust said, giving his briefing one final time. “We pull up to Number 8 at the front entrance and Jost waits with the staff car. The truck pulls in to the courtyard entrance just before that, on the south side of the building. This puts them opposite the side entrance of the south wing. It also gives us vehicles at two exit points in case something goes wrong.
Sturmbannführer
, you lead the way inside. Hans directly beside you. Dieter and I behind. We go through the front entrance, up the staircase to the main hall. We pass the auditorium on our right, then take the next staircase down. That connects us with the south wing of the building and the Gestapo prison. You told us there are guards inside and at the prison entrance, but you have freedom of movement within the building.” Faust waited for Hettstedt to acknowledge this. He agreed with a quick nod. Faust thought he looked a little more confident. He hoped so.

“Good. Then a quick trip to the basement cells. Have Elsa, Doktor Kappelen, and Sister Anneliese released into your custody. You are going to use them as bait in a special action at the hospital, in case anyone asks.”

“That should not be a problem. I doubt anyone of my rank or higher will be in the building at this hour, unless Himmler has called one of his emergency meetings. We will avoid that corridor in any case.”

“Absolutely,” Faust agreed. “We then take the prisoners up one flight and out the side of the building to the truck. There are two of our men in the back of the truck and two in the cab. They will help load the prisoners. Dieter, you stay with them. The three of us walk out to the front and get in the staff car, then we all drive straight to Wittenberg. It is about 100 kilometers, so we should arrive by dawn. Any questions?”

“The sister,” Hettstedt was nervous again, his eyes flitting back and forth between Neukirk and Faust. “She may need some assistance. Some of the guards were much too rough with her.”

“My God,” muttered Dieter, “what kind of animal are you?”

Faust watched Hettstedt’s face crumble into fear. He realized it had been a mistake to bring Neukirk along. He was too emotional and failed to see the need to keep Hettstedt feeling safe and secure with them so he would have the self-assurance and arrogance to carry out the plan. Faust stared at Neukirk, trying to will the younger man to get his passions under control.

“
Herr Hauptmann!
” Faust said sharply. Dieter turned his face to Faust. “I am sure the
Sturmbannführer
regrets any overzealous actions on the part of the lower ranks. He is obviously not to blame for such an unfortunate incident. Correct,
Hauptmann
Neukirk?”

“Yes sir.” The two men locked stares until Dieter repeated, “Yes sir, I understand.”
 

“Very well. In any case one of the men in the truck is a medical orderly. He can care for the sister until we get to Wittenberg. Get ready, everyone, we’re almost there.”
 

Hettstedt tried to stop wringing his hands and overcome his fear. He knew this was his only chance for survival. Everyone had betrayed him, even after all he had done. His only opportunity was with two men he had planned to arrest as enemies of the State and an insane Colonel on a mission to avoid defeat and keep the war going. He almost laughed at the idiocy of it all. Instead, he focused on hoping that Sister Anneliese was still alive. He wondered what these men would do if they knew he had ordered her beaten. Would they keep their bargain? The staff car pulled to a halt at the curb, the truck going a little further beyond to pull over at the gated entrance to the dark, looming building. Number 8
Prinz Albrecht Strasse
.

The four men exited the car and walked to the main entrance. Rain pelted them as they walked the few steps from the curb to the three short curved steps that ascended between two ornate columns. Due to the weather there were no guards posted outside, but two SS men snapped to attention when Hettstedt burst through the door. He gave them a gruff “Heil Hitler!” and then shook off his wet leather greatcoat before leading the group through the narrow foyer to the large staircase leading to the main hall. There was no challenge. They ascended the staircase. Swastika banners hung along the walls and a marble bust of Hitler gazed at them as they walked by. Dieter shivered involuntarily and his heart began to race as he thought of Elsa just one floor below. Faust caught his eye and nodded encouragingly. Everything seemed to be going smoothly.
 

The second staircase was only a few meters away. It led down to the
Hausgefängnis
, or Gestapo prison, or up to the main floor of the south wing. The
click-clack
sound of their bootheels as they walked across the marble floor echoed off the walls. The sound grew louder and Hans glanced back at Faust, putting this left arm on Hettstedt and pushing him faster to the staircase. There was another group of men walking down the corridor from the south wing, their sounds mixing with the echoes in the hallway.
 

Dieter could see Hans’ right hand resting inside the front of his opened greatcoat. The staircase came closer, but Dieter could not tell if the other group of men would continue across the hallway that arched over the stairway, or turn left and come down the stairs. Voices began to emerge from the corridor. Inches from the steps, Dieter caught a glance of a short man with a receding chin and prince-nez glasses as he emerged from the hallway one level above. Heinrich Himmler,
Reichsführer
of the SS himself, was only meters away.

Himmler was reading from a clipboard which he was handing to an aide. Dieter ducked his head down, even though he was sure Himmler could not possibly know him. Hettstedt and Hans were now several steps down and Dieter and Faust were right behind them as the other group passed above them, crossing over the stairway as they descended.
 

“Have von Schlabrendorff transferred to Dachau immediately, I do not want him here any longer,” said Himmler to his aide. “If he dies, let him die there.”

The sound of boots and the obsequious voices of his aides followed Himmler down the hall. Dieter relaxed as they descended the stairs, thankful of their narrow escape. Then Dieter noticed Hans looking at him beseechingly. Of course! Von Schlabrendorff was his cousin, his link to the 20 July plotters. He was still alive, and right here, although his future seemed limited.

Within moments they were in the main guardroom in the
Hausgefängnis
. To their left was a short hallway with various rooms for the guards, including a small kitchen. To their right was the entrance to the cellblock. A guard seated at a small table stood to attention.

“
Sturmman
,” Hettstedt said, addressing the private by his SS rank, “I am here to take into my custody three prisoners.” He studied the arrest list posted on the wall, which showed prisoner’s names and cells, as well as arresting officer. He knew this was a dangerous moment. If for any reason this guard knew of his own arrest order, they would never get out of here. He indicated the three prisoners on the list.

The guard looked at Hettstedt and the tall Wehrmacht officer standing quietly behind the two other SS guards. He squinted at the list and asked, “Are you
Sturmbannführer
O. Hettstedt?”

“Of course I am, you idiot!” Hettstedt raised his voice and slapped his hand irritably on the table. “I brought those three in and now I need them out for a special action at dawn.”

“Excuse me,
Sturmbannführer
. I must follow procedures.”

Hettstedt couldn’t reply. Dieter felt his heart sink. If this fellow demanded written orders, they would have no choice but to leave, or shoot it out. Neither appealed to him. He noticed Hans unbuttoning his coat, slowly. The guard turned to a small desk with a telephone and a stack of papers. Hans’ hand began to come out from the folds of his coat.

“Would you sign the release forms,
Sturmbannführer?
”

The sound of the four men releasing their breath at once sounded thunderous to Dieter. He was amazed the guard didn’t notice and sound the alarm.

“Of course,
Sturmman
. Very proper, I like that.” Hettstedt scrawled his name on the forms and the guard dutifully wrote out each prisoner’s name, the date and time.

“This way, sir.” The guard picked up a set of keys and unlocked the cellblock door. The door opened to a long, wide corridor that was divided by a guardroom that ran up the middle of the corridor and separated the rows of cells along each wall. Hettstedt had explained that guards on the night shift would take turns sleeping in the guardroom if there was not much activity. This seemed to be a quiet night.

 
“Prisoner Kappelen is right over here. Cell 16.” The guard led them to a cell along the left wall. He unlocked and opened the door. The bright lights in the hall seemed to flood the tiny dark cell. An old man, huddled on a mattress on the floor, held his hand over his eyes.

“No, please, let me sleep…”

“Stop your blubbering, old man,” the guard said roughly, “you’re going on a little trip. Get up!” He kicked Kappelen and Dieter forced himself to not go to his aid.
 

“Pick him up. We don’t have all night.” Faust’s stern voice cut through the moans of Doktor Kappelen as the guard pulled back his foot for another blow. The guard was confused for a moment by the
Wehrmacht
officer giving orders. The only
Wehrmacht
officers he had seen down here were usually on the other side of cell door. An officer was an officer, though. He pulled up the old man by his arms and shoved him out into the corridor.