Vengeance 10 (41 page)

Memling gave Viscount Cherwell a long steady look. ‘I recommend, therefore, that three projects be put in motion as soon as possible. First, organise an effective tactical fighter bomber force to seek out and destroy the rockets before they can be launched. Second, warn the Americans and Canadians about the A-Ten. And third, bomb Peenemunde again and again until it is utterly destroyed. To fail in any of these three will subject - ‘

‘Preposterous!’ The air vice-marshal snorted. ‘CIU assures us that incalculable damage was done and that the work will have been thrown back by at least a year if not more. Our own Air Intelligence assessment concurs.’

‘Were any of your people on the ground at Peenemunde, Air Vice-Marshal?’ Simon-Benet murmured.

‘You know damned well they were not, sir. However, they are trained in the assessment of bomb damage from photographs and have had a great deal of experience at the job. With all due respect to Major Memling, even though he has been there he does not have the skills required to interpret after-raid photographs. My people do.’

‘Is that why Bomber Command’s raids on aircraft plants have resulted in increased production of German fighter aircraft?’ As he made the remark the brigadier got to his feet, expression angry. ‘I would suggest, gentlemen, that we stop trying to protect our own backsides in this matter. Time is running out. Soon those damnable rockets will be raining down on Britain and God knows where else. How are we to explain to the British people that we were not prepared? Since 1938 we have had warning after warning, and all have been ignored. MI-Six, of which you speak so highly, Air Vice-Marshal, buried Major Memling’s reports because they sounded too far-fetched to be believed by his superior - who, I might add, read classics at Exeter College. This in spite of the fact that MI-Six received copies of a document delivered to our embassy in Oslo in September 1939 which outlined the entire Nazi military research programme. In addition, both Polish and Czech resistance groups have sent reams of wireless data bearing out what Major Memling has learned. And just this past spring MI-Six distributed the transcript of a conversation between Generals Thoma and Cruewell in the London Cage in which Thoma expressed surprise that London was not yet in ruins from rocket bombardment. He even described to General Cruewell the rocket launchings he had witnessed at a firing range in Germany!’

Simon-Benet glared around the table. ‘This man has risked his life twice now - no, three times - to bring us information concerning Germany’s rocket work, and so far his only thanks have been a questioning of his motives.’

Afterwards it seemed to Memling that no one’s mind had been changed even the slightest. All three proposals had been rejected completely, and he felt the meeting, like his mission in Germany, had been a waste of time and effort.

Sandys asked both him and Simon-Benet to remain after the others left, then disappeared with the brigadier, leaving Jan in the library. He was exhausted, but the tension engendered by the meeting would not leave him and he paced the room as the shadows deepened.

Part of him yearned for refuge in the flat in Montague Street, yet, at the same time, he was not all that anxious to go back to the strained atmosphere present since his return. Janet had tried hard to recreate their first days of marriage; that much he recognised. The truth of the matter, if he would only have allowed himself to admit it, was that he was suffering from shock. He had had far more contact with the enemy than most other soldiers and for far longer, and the nature and cruelty of those incidents had all worked on his subconscious, twisting his perceptions and straining his capacity to remain a thinking, rational being. Memling, like other soldiers constantly exposed to killing, was discovering that it had become too easy, that one had to struggle against the temptation to kill for the sake of killing or simply sparing oneself the trouble of dealing with prisoners. The deliberate torture and murder of Francine, coupled with his own execution of the four SD men, had driven him to the verge of nervous exhaustion in the Swedish detention camp. He had not recognised the symptoms for what they were, but had ascribed them to nervousness and apprehension as a result of his narrow escape and the pressure of the information he carried. Once Commander Fleming had told him that the bombing raid had been carried out, a great weight had been lifted from him, and a deep lethargy had set in on his return to London.

Janet was the first to notice. He had slept for twenty-six hours after she had found him in the hall, and when he had awakened late the next night, she had brought him tea and scrambled eggs. Afterwards he had bathed and shaved and, returning to the bedroom, found the window thrown wide and the room filled with the soft summer air. Janet had wanted to recreate the night he had proposed to her, and grinned impishly as he got into bed beside her, only to find himself impotent. The shock to his self-esteem was crippling. Since that night, he had avoided her, finding excuses to be absent or taking refuge in anger to hide his fear. He did not know what to do to break the impasse, short of admitting to her that he was frightened to death, and that he would never do. Not to anyone.

Sandys returned an hour later to find Memling asleep. He woke him reluctantly, and after a quick bite, the three of them sat long in the drawing-room discussing the implications of the German rocket programme and their inability to make the committee realise the great danger it posed to the entire Allied war effort. Both Sandys and the brigadier were pessimistic, and the discussion turned to ways they might circumvent Viscount Cherwell’s influence on the Prime Minister.

‘I don’t understand it.’ Sandys smacked the table in exasperation. ‘He is a brilliant scientist. Brilliant! But for some reason he is totally blind regarding the German rockets. Even after seeing the photographs. It is beyond belief.’

Simon-Benet gave Memling a smile to remind him of their discussion.

It was after midnight when they emerged, and Memling was drained. Sandys and the brigadier stood talking beside the car, and Memling leaned against the railing drawing deep lungsful of cold night air. The wind had stiffened and was now whirling dead leaves across the square. The stuffy library had left him with a raging headache, and in spite of the liberal infusions of whisky and water that Sandys had poured, his throat ached. A chill shook him, and he pushed himself up and took a few steps along the gravelled walk, wishing the two would finish their conversation. He was dead tired and wanted nothing so much as his own bed and sleep.

Sandys said good night to them a few moments later and returned to the building. Simon-Benet motioned Memling into the car and gave the driver the address.

Memling lay back against the upholstery, eyes closed as the brigadier droned on about the impression he had made on Sandys; his head was spinning and he was half-asleep when the car drew up in front of his door. He mumbled a good night to Simon-Benet and shuffled towards the steps. Jan found his key and got the door open with difficulty. The flight of stairs seemed endless, and he could not make his key fit in the door to the flat. Janet heard his fumbling and came to open it. She took one look at his perspiring face and helped him directly to bed, undressing him and then covering him with a quilt. By this time he was shivering and his teeth were chattering. Janet got into bed beside him and took his shivering body in her arms. The room seemed to spin and bob, and for a moment Memling was frightened that he was still aboard the fishing boat caught up in the storm. Then Janet’s face swam into view and he relaxed, knowing everything had come out right.

The next morning Janet phoned the hospital, and Memling was removed from the flat for treatment of exhaustion and incipient pneumonia.

Military police were everywhere, waving batons and shouting at drivers, urging them through the tangle of debris, and cursing civilians and soldiers alike. Peering through the mud-spattered window, Bethwig caught sight of an army officer arguing heatedly with an SS obersturmführer at a roadblock. The army officer was pointing to three of his men being held at gunpoint. The obersturmführer waved him away and, when the army officer continued to argue, turned abruptly to his squad and snapped an order. Before the astonished officer could react, the SS had surrounded his company. As his car finally broke out of the crush, Bethwig had a last glimpse of the soldiers being disarmed.

‘The breakdown is beginning,’ General Dornberger grunted, peering over Bethwig’s shoulder. ‘The SS is overstepping itself, and the army is powerless to stop it - lacks the courage to do so.’

They had been driving since eight that morning, moving through heavy snow and rain, dodging military traffic, and enduring frequent stops at Gestapo checkpoints where their papers were examined and re-examined until they had become dog-eared. It was a revelation to Franz how far out of esteem military personnel had fallen of late. The Gestapo and SS were contemptuous of their documents and frequently made them wait while telephone calls were placed to obtain approval to allow them to pass.

Munich had suffered heavily from a British bombing raid the night before, and fires still raged inside the city. Only bad weather prevented the American follow-up raid, Franz thought. They spent two hours inching through traffic before the driver was able to turn off on the road to Berchtesgaden, which they reached just before 6 p.m. As soon as they were in their hotel room Domberger rang up General Buhle, chief of the Army Staff at Hitler’s headquarters, to announce their arrival. He was told to remain where he was.

Dornberger gave Bethwig a puzzled glance as he replaced the receiver. ‘I would certainly like to know what this is all about, Franz.’

Franz had been in Dornberger’s office in Schwedt-on-Oder that morning, ready to begin a long-delayed discussion about priorities and personnel which promised to last most of the day, when the summons to Berchtesgaden came. Rather than waste the opportunity, Dornberger asked Franz to come along, and they had conducted their discussion in the back seat of Dornberger’s Opel Admiral. It was the first time in months that Bethwig had been further away from Peenemunde than Schwedt, and he was shocked at what he had seen. Their route had taken them through Berlin to Hof and on to Munich, and he was startled to see that vast sections of the capital were in ruins. The newspapers and radio had reported the bombing of the cities but always the raids were said to be failures and the toll of enemy bombers exceptionally high. Yet the industrial suburbs were bombed-out ruins, and the city centre devastated. Bethwig could not get over the sight of shrapnel holes in familiar city buildings and bomb craters in the Park am Zoo. The autobahns seemed to have been targeted as well, and on the drive south they had passed a military convoy stopped by the side of the road. Several vehicles were burning, and a line of snow-dusted bodies could be seen beside an ambulance, proof that in spite of the Luftwaffe, Allied fighter bombers were managing to penetrate this far into the country.

Fifteen minutes later General Buhle entered their hotel room. His heavy face was grim, and he wasted no time on preliminaries, barely acknowledging the introduction to Bethwig.

‘This morning at eight o’clock,’ he told them abruptly, ‘Professor von Braun, Ernst Mundt, and another engineer, Helmuth Gottrup, were arrested for sabotage. They were removed to Gestapo headquarters in Stettin.’

The news stunned both men, and they stared at each other as Buhle went on to tell Dornberger that he was to meet with Field Marshal Keitel at nine the following morning. Buhle offered his sympathy and privately told Domberger not to expect much help from Keitel. Having refused a drink, he left abruptly, as if by remaining longer he would be contaminated.

As Buhle predicted, Domberger’s meeting with Keitel was a farce. ‘He told me point-blank he was afraid for his position,’ Dornberger stormed as the heavy automobile raced north again.

‘ “Himmler is waiting for me to make one mistake,” ‘ Dornberger mimicked Keitel. ‘ “He will have me removed and the officer corps will have lost its last direct pipeline to the Führer. Then the Reichsführer will have it all his way.” ‘ The general slammed a hand on the seat of the car. ‘Keitel has not yet realised that Himmler already has everything except the Führer’s position. Then, heaven help Germany, we will have a madman at the helm.’

Keitel had, Dornberger told Bethwig, agreed to arrange with Himmler’s aide for Dornberger to see the Reichsführer, but Himmler had refused, preferring instead that Dornberger meet with SS General Ernst Kaltenbrunner, Heydrich’s successor. When Dornberger then demanded that Keitel issue an order for the release of the three scientists on grounds that as army employees they were not subject to Gestapo arrest, Keitel refused, claiming he could not interfere in an ongoing investigation.

Kaltenbrunner, SS chief of security for Berlin, was not available. Instead his deputy, SS General Heinrich Muller, was waiting for them in Kaltenbrunner’s office. After Domberger stated the reason for his visit, General Muller rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, as if seeking sympathy, and denied any knowledge of the circumstances surrounding von Braun’s arrest. He was a huge, florid-faced man who obviously depended more upon physical size and demeanour than brains. Bethwig watched him in fascination, thinking that in his presence one had the feeling that a physical assault was imminent, and admitted that he was, indeed, intimidated.

Domberger adopted a reasonable tone, explaining that the three men must have been arrested by mistake, that they were absolutely indispensable to the A-4 project which was in its most critical phase. He asked for their immediate release. When he finished, Muller eyed him carefully, then turned towards Bethwig.

‘And what is the reason for your presence in my office, Herr Bethwig?’

His tone was belligerent enough to make Bethwig bridle, but he kept his temper under control. ‘Simply to support General Dornberger. I am a scientist and an engineer and can - ‘