Читать книгу Blue Flame - Robert A. Webster - Страница 13

What remained of the German population felt terrified. The war had been over for several months, and the conquering Allies were dividing the country. The Soviet Bloc carved a sizable chunk for itself, with America and its European counterparts splitting up the rest. Berlin was a city in ruins. Brick and stone carcasses were all that remained of the once-splendid metropolis. The vile stench of decaying corpses and stagnant sewerage hung over the city like noxious smog. The people and their lands were now in a tug-of-war between the victorious powers. Many stories of atrocities filtered through about maltreatment of the German citizens. The Allies pillaged what they could get their hands on and the Russians mercilessly raped and murdered German women in revenge for the mistreatment of Russian women and the atrocities caused by the German army upon their people.

The shabby overcrowded hospital ward bustled with activity. American soldiers and medics brought in wounded from the sporadic skirmishes around the city, with German patients shoved out to make room for them.

The Berlin hospital had been more fortunate than most, as it was only partially destroyed in the blitz bombings, leaving certain sections functional. It bustled with activity 24 hours a day.

Martina suckled her infant and, along with her husband Stefan, observed all the activity. They wondered how long it would be before they would also be thrown out, having already been there for almost a month. Doctor Rudolf Flanman had been protecting them since he discovered their infant son had a mild case of asthma, although the infant always seemed healthy to his parents. The doctor fended off any attempts to remove them as he and the medical staff referred to their child as the ‘miracle’ baby. This situation was ideal for Martina and Stefan, with their home destroyed in the blitz. Stefan had slept on a thin mattress under Martina’s bed, sharing her meagre rations. Dr Rudolf Flanman was a rotund, bespectacled man, with patches of grey hair on either side of his otherwise bald head. He had a large grey beard and protruding uneven teeth, which made him look a cross between the Nutty Professor and Santa Claus. Flanman looked to be in his mid-sixties, and his jovial demeanour made it easy for him to gain his patients’ confidence. Martina and Stefan liked and trusted this dependable medical man and his judgment.

The couple had a black-and-white photograph taped to Martina’s headboard that showed Martina smiling as she held their baby son, who now looked content as he suckled on his mother’s breast.

Two-armed American G.I.’s and a civilian came into the ward and went to Martina’s bed. The officer, dressed in a beige and brown dress uniform, and the civilian in a grey suit, went over to Martina’s bedside, while the N.C.O. in combat fatigues, closed the privacy curtain around the bed and stayed outside to stand guard.

“What do you want?” stammered Stefan, putting his hand on his wife’s leg.

The officer took a folder from a leather briefcase while the man in the suit told the couple, “This is Lieutenant Sykes, and my name is Max. I am an interpreter.” He said and looked at Stefan and asked, “Are you, Professor Stefan Adolf Schuler?”

“Yes, I am,” replied Stefan.

“Do you speak English professor?” lieutenant Sykes asked.

Stefan looked at the large American officer and replied, “Yes, a little.”

“Good, that’ll make it easier,” said the lieutenant and smiled at the brilliant young engineering professor.

Martina, feeling embarrassed, covered herself, removed the infant from her breast and wrapped the baby in a blanket.

Lieutenant Sykes opened the folder marked ‘Operation Paperclip,’ he took out a document, showed it to Stefan, and asked, “Is this the project that you were involved with?”

Stefan studied the document.

“Yes, I worked on that project,” he said, and with a quake in his voice, asked, “Why?”

Sykes ignored the question and ordered, “You and your family have to come with us now, professor.”

A commotion outside the curtain interrupted them.

“What’s happening Sergeant?” yelled Sykes.

“Sir, a nurse is insisting she comes in to attend to the baby. He needs his treatment.”

“Tell her to wait,” ordered Sykes, and after putting the folder back in his case, called back to the sergeant, “Okay, tell her to come in.”

A nurse came behind the curtain and glared at Sykes. ‘Wow!’ thought Sykes ‘She’s a sight for sore eyes.’ he smiled at the nurse who frowned at him and spoke to a now relieved looking Martina and Stefan in German.

She then snapped at Sykes in English, “What is happening? What do you want with my patient?”

“And you are?” asked Sykes, gazing into the nurse’s blue eyes.

“I’m staff nurse Steffi Beike, and this is my patient,” she curtly replied and put down a tray containing medicines and ointments.

“My name is Lieutenant Sykes ma’am. I need to take the professor’s family with me. American doctors will now take care of them.”

The angry nurse gave Martina a small glass of dark brown medicine to drink while she checked the baby’s vital signs. She then rubbed ointment on the now wailing infant’s chest, and while Martina tried to settle her baby, nurse Steffi glared at Sykes and stormed out.

* * *

* * *

General Andy ‘Bash’ Brownlow stood in front of the thirty-five people in the room in the bombed offices of the Reichstag. The audience comprised of men, women, children, and one sleeping baby. General Brownlow, having lost many of his soldiers in battle, loathed the Germans.

With Max translating, the abrupt General told them they would relocate to the United States. He explained how, as they were the top specialists in their respected fields, their talents and expertise would now work for Uncle Sam under the top-secret operation known as ‘Operation Paperclip.’

The small crowd mumbled and fidgeted as they listened to Bash as he told them what would be expected of them, although he explained little else, appearing irritated having to wait for Max to translate.

After twenty minutes he said, “You will leave tomorrow morning and taken to the port of Lubek. From there you will sail to the U.S. to start new lives.”

The audience gasped as Max translated and then the General gave them a stark warning,

“Until you land on U.S soil, you are persona non-grata. We want you to help us, but we do not need you, so if have any thoughts about being invaluable…don’t. You’re all expendable.”

The audience became confused, frightened, and sceptical, but they sat and listened whilst Max translated.

While Stefan kept his arm around his wife and son to comfort them, he looked around the room and saw a few of his colleagues. Amongst them were Weirner Von Braun and Wilheim Jungert, both rocket scientists who had worked on the V2 rocket programme alongside him.

General Brownlow ordered the officers to take care of the details before he stormed out of the room.

Lieutenant Sykes, came over to the family, smiled, and said, “I am your liaison officer and assigned to handle your paperwork. Please follow me.”

Sykes accompanied the Schuler’s through the various departments. An American army doctor examined the baby, but after finding no sign of asthma, he told them that their infant was a normal, healthy baby. This made Martina and Stefan angry although they said nothing to the American doctor or Sykes.

They spoke to each other in German, “These Americans neither know nor care about the German people. Our son has asthma and they know it,” said Martina as she smiled at the doctor.

They knew that they had no other option but to accept the fact they were now of a second-class, hated race.

Other families and single men kept arriving at different times throughout the day.

The men issued old black suits, with grey skirts and white blouses for the women. Shorts, blazers, and blouses for the children.

After being ushered through different departments throughout the day, by mid-afternoon, Lieutenant Sykes, Martina, and Stefan now sat in an office around a small desk.

Sykes took a folder from his leather case with ‘Joseph & Jane Wolffe’ written on the front. Sykes decided Stefan knew enough English that he did not need a translator. He opened the folder containing papers and documents relating to the couple, telling them, “You will no longer be known as Martina and Stefan Schuler.” He slid papers and documents to the couple and said, “You are now Joseph and Jane Wolffe.”

The Schuler’s looked at their new identity papers. Sykes was about to explain a little about what work Joseph would do in the USA and where they would live; when he looked at the baby.

“Goddamn!” he exclaimed, then read the folder again, and noticed something amiss. He looked at the couple and smiled. “There is nothing in mentioned in here about the baby,” he said, feeling stupid over how he could have overlooked this.

Sykes sighed and thought for a moment. He knew with all the turmoil in Germany, paperwork was the last thing on any Germans mind, but the U.S. government had made exceptions for anyone under Operation Paperclip.

“That won’t be too much of a problem.” he said, “I’ll just make him a U.S birth certificate.”

Sykes left the office and returned a few minutes later with a blank document. He sat and with his pen in hand asked,

“Okay, “What do you call him?”

The couple had not considered the baby’s name with all the chaos going on around them. They looked at each other, then at Sykes.

Stefan shrugged and said, “We haven’t yet chosen a name”

After an awkward silence as the three smiled at one another, Stefan broke the silence and asked, “What is your first name, Lieutenant Sykes?”

Lieutenant Sykes, looking confused, said, “George… George Sykes.”

Stefan looked at his wife, who nodded.

“George it is then,” Stefan said and continued, “George Wolffe.”

Lieutenant George Sykes smiled as he wrote the name George Wolffe in the relevant boxes.

Stefan and Martina told him George’s date of birth and as they were due to settle in Pennsylvania once in America, he wrote Newtown as the place of birth. After filling in the form, he left the room and went to another office for it to be typed and authorised.

He returned to the room and told them about Stefan’s new job and their new home until a woman arrived with a typed and stamped U.S. birth certificate.

“That is all we need to do here.” Said Sykes and looking at his watch told them, “I will take you to your sleeping quarters. You need to get some rest, it will be a long day, and you have an early start,” said Sykes.

He stood up and shook Stefan’s hand, smiled at Martina and said, “Please remember professor, from this point on, you are Joseph and Jane Wolffe.” He tickled the sleeping baby’s chin, and added, “And let’s not forget, baby George Wolffe.” He smiled and told them, “Take good care of yourselves and good luck in the U.S.A.”

* * *

George Sykes felt bored. He’d had a tiring day escorting and interviewing people, although he felt good about the new Wolffe family.

‘A little highlight, to make a shitty job and a monotonous day worthwhile,’ he thought while driving his Willy Jeep around the rubble of Berlin’s pot-holed roads. Several streetlights powered by emergency generators illuminated the road. Sykes felt lonely and homesick but did not want to return to the barracks yet, so he stopped at a small café near the Berlin hospital. Seeing lights piercing through the boarded-up building, he thought. ‘I’ll grab a coffee real quick.’ He turned off the engine and went inside the small café.

People were sitting down chatting and drinking. The talking ceased when George entered and an uneasy silence fell upon the café as Sykes walked to a small empty table and took a seat. He appeared to be the focus of attention as the customers glared at him. He tried to catch the waitress’s attention, who he noticed was a little overweight with harsh features.

‘A veritable pig in knickers,’ thought George and chuckled.

Determined to get a cup of coffee, he raised his hand and shouted, “Coffee over here, please.”

The German customers looked on in disgust at this brash Yank. Sykes noticed that most of the customers wore either doctor’s white coats or nurse’s uniforms. Deciding that he’d had enough of rude Germans after his run-in earlier at the hospital with the pushy, but beautiful nurse, and realising a coffee would not be forthcoming, he sighed. He went ignored as the chatter in the café resumed.

‘If my coffee ever arrived, it would taste like bilge water, and one of the Krauts would probably have spat in it,’ thought George, ‘I might as well go back to his barracks to grab a cup of coffee there.’ He got off the chair and walked towards the door.

“Hello Lieutenant,” said a voice behind him.

He swung around to face the nurse from earlier.

“You aren’t leaving already?” she asked and smiled.

“Hello nurse erm …?” said George, embarrassed.

“Steffi,” she said and pointed to a table in the corner where a balding strange-looking doctor sat. “Please, come join us, lieutenant,” she said.

“Please… Call me George, and no, but thanks. I will call it a night and get a coffee at the barracks,” he said, thinking how amazing this woman looked and smelled as he told her. “Besides, the service here isn’t too great.” He looked over at the waitress leant on the counter.

Steffi barked an order at ‘the veritable pig in knickers’ who rushed behind the counter.

“Your coffee is on its way George.” smiled Steffi. She took hold of George’s hand, led him over to her table, and introduced him to Dr Rudolf Flanman.

* * *

A fleet of black saloon cars with a white star painted on each side pulled up at the dockside. It was mid-afternoon and it had taken almost nine hours to drive the ‘Operation Paperclip’ party 320 kilometres to the port of Lubek. They had spent the previous night sleeping on canvas stretchers, cramped together in a large bomb shelter under the demolished remains of the bombed-out Reichstag building. Scientists, engineering specialists, and their families were woken early morning, before being ushered into the fleet of the commandeered German vehicles.

With American military personnel as their drivers and escorts, they drove through the wreckage and shells of the former buildings of Berlin, before getting onto the open roadways heading west. Although the distance should have taken four to five hours, they had to navigate around bombed unusable roads and the many roadblocks and checkpoints set up by the Allies. The noisy old saloons smelled of exhaust fumes. Jane, Joseph, and baby George sat in the rear of the saloon car, with Jane having to waft fumes away from baby Georges face as the infant wailed constantly.

The driver was a cheerful U.S. G.I army sergeant, and in the front seat was a young G.I captain, whom the Wolffes thought looked far too serious. The sergeant tried to engage in friendly banter with the Wolffe’s several times but was chastised by the captain.

Arriving at the port, they stopped alongside a 14,200-ton U.S. liberty cargo ship: the S.S. John H. Brown. This would be the last time many of them would ever see Germany again. The voyage was to take almost a month. General Brownlow was the liaison officer in charge of coordinating the group of men, women, and children. He would accompany them on this leg of their journey, which he was happy to do, as it meant he was going home and getting away from the Berlin stench and the people who he despised.

Sergeant Hickster carried Joseph, Jane, and baby George’s luggage as they boarded the cargo ship, along with the rest of the group. As Sergeant Hickster escorted them to their quarters, he whispered in German, “My name is Tomas. What’s yours?”

Joseph looked surprised and was about to introduce himself when a loud booming voice echoed behind them.

“Sergeant Hickster, I warned you not to speak to these people.”

“Sorry sir,” said the sergeant. “I was just…”

“Take the bags into their cabin,” barked the young captain, looking enraged.

With the captain waiting outside the cabin, Sergeant Hickster placed the Wolffe’s bags beside a set of bunk beds and went up to the deck to chat with one of the ship’s crew.

The captain escorted the Wolffe’s to an eating area where General Brownlow waited with their instructions for this part of the journey.

He gave strict orders not to have any contact with the crew and be a separate community until they reached the United States. He told them that once in America, they would be transported to their respective areas to begin their new lives, and he warned them, “You are all prohibited from going onto the deck for the entire voyage. You have an area below decks for recreation and exercise with a separate galley and eating area. Anyone who breaks these rules will be shot.”

After the briefing, they all silently went to their cabins and unpacked their belongings. Joseph and Jane sat on their hard bunk bed. Jane started to cry, which made George cry. Joseph put his arm around his wife and son, and said, “At least we are safe, we are better off than most of the German people.” Jane nodded and sobbed as she cradled George. “Maybe it will be fine at least there was no more war, and apart from that nasty General, the Americans whom we have met so far have not been so bad. Besides, some of our friends are here, so we are not alone,” said Joseph and kissed Jane and George.

Jane sighed, nodded, wiped the tears from her eyes, handed George to Joseph, and said, “I will check the kitchen and see if I can find us something to eat.”

“It’s called a galley on a ship darling,” smiled Joseph.

Two hours later, the John H. Brown edged away from the dockside. The cargo of refugees stared out of their portholes as the vessel made its way out of the port. They all had tears in their eyes as they gazed back at their war-ravaged and decimated country that got further away from the ships wake.

* * *

Lieutenant George Sykes, Staff Nurse Steffi Beike, and Dr Rudolph Flanman sat around a small, round, brass-hammered table in a corner of the small café. Steffi apologised to George for her abruptness earlier but explained that they and the Schuler’s had become close, so it came as a shock to her and the doctor when George took them away. Both Dr Flanman and Steffi spoke English and probed George for information about the family. They told him how concerned they were about the baby.

George, feeling uncomfortable with the questions, took a drink of coffee. He looked at the pair smiling at him, and said, “I am sorry, but I am not at liberty to divulge any information about the Schuler’s or my work. But don’t worry, I guarantee that the family are safe and will be well taken care of.”

Steffi smiled and said, “We understand George, let’s change the subject. How’s the coffee?”

The conversation changed, although Steffi and Rudolph occasionally spoke to each other in German, George felt more at ease. The waitress brought small plates of food to the table, and they ate and chatted for another hour. George could not take his eyes off Steffi. She was a beautiful woman in her mid-twenties. Her wavy blonde hair clipped back into a bundle, which reminded George of Rita Hayworth, the American actress, dancer, and pin-up: every serviceman’s dream girl. Except this Rita Hayworth had deep crystal blue eyes, which George gazed into. He had not thought about, much less been, this close to a woman in a very long time.

The doctor smiled as he noticed the young lieutenant’s ardour and excused himself, leaving the pair alone.

George told Steffi that before the war, he was a schoolteacher from California. He had served in the US Army for two years, and although a tall muscular man, due to his education, he had served in administrative roles. The couple enjoyed each other’s company, and George felt relaxed and secure with Steffi, despite the rocky start, for which she constantly apologised.

Steffi told George that she wanted to be a surgeon and had spent several years at an English university. Her mother was English and her father German, which posed a quandary during the commencement of hostilities. With her family living in Germany, she returned there after completed half of her surgical training because the country needed nurses. They had been talking for some time, so hadn’t noticed that the other customers had long since gone from the café. The waitress leant against the counter, staring at the couple. Time seemed to have stood still for George, and he didn’t want the night to end, unlike the pig in knickers, who kept coughing and looking at her watch.

Steffi smiled and whispered, “I think she wants us to leave.”

George looked at the waitress and asked for the bill.

“That’s okay, there’s no need to pay here,” said Steffi and stood up and held out her hand. “Thank you for a great evening lieutenant. It’s a pity it has to end,” she said.

George did not quite know what to do with her hand: shake it, kiss it, slap it… what?

He decided to be gallant and kiss it. Steffi chuckled and put her hand over her mouth.

“What did I do wrong, ma’am?” asked George.

“Nothing,” said Steffi still giggling, “Nothing at all.”

George also started to laugh.

“I was only supposed to shake it, wasn’t I?” he said, looking embarrassed, “I was being gallant, like an English knight.”

“Thank you Sir George,” said Steffi as she curtseyed.

“Can I have the pleasure of seeing you again m’ lady?” asked George, smiling.

“I would like that very much,” replied Steffi as they stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments. Steffi said goodbye and started to walk out of the café. She looked back at George, smiled, and said, “I finish work at 4 o’clock. I will meet you here at 5.” She never waited for the reply and left the café, closing the door behind her.

* * *

A happy Lieutenant Sykes pulled up to the small café at 4:45 pm the following day. With a spring in his step, he hopped out of his jeep and went in. He had spent the day doing more paperwork that was monotonous and thinking about Steffi.

Steffi was already at a table. George looked at his watch, thinking it had stopped. “Sorry, am I late?” He said tapping his watch.

“You’re not late George, I am early, I was missing you,” said Steffi and giggled.

A smiling George sat down, and Steffi ordered him a coffee.

“What have you got in your bag?” Steffi asked, noticing that George was carrying a brown paper bag. He pulled out two sets of nylon stockings and two blocks of chocolate and handed them to Steffi.

The waitress brought over his coffee. He brought out a smaller block of chocolate and gave it to her. The veritable pig in knickers looked puzzled. “Danke,” she said and walked away.

“Damn,” George said and then joked, “I thought that would make her smile. Do you think anything would make that woman crack a smile?”

Steffi laughed and said, “Try asking her to marry you. That may work.”

They both broke into childish laughter.

These daily trysts continued over the next few days. Steffi and George met at the same time and place. After eating, Steffi would then take George on a Guided tour around the ruins of Berlin. She showed George where she used to go dancing and her local shops. Although the buildings were now just burnt-out shells, the detail in which Steffi described the city, made it easy for George to imagine what it was like in its former glory. Their meetings were short, as curfew was in place for the Germans. After 10 pm, the only people remaining on the city streets were the military.

George’s feelings for Steffi grew. They had kissed several times, usually a peck on the cheek when he dropped her off at the hospital. She told George she wanted a relationship, which suited George, now besotted with this beautiful and intelligent woman.

Steffi occasionally mentioned the Schuler’s, especially the baby, but George had always reiterated what he had told her at their first meeting about not divulging his work. Steffi explained why the baby was a miracle, telling George that after Martina was sterilized, she fell pregnant.

One afternoon, George met Steffi as usual. She seemed excited about something, asking George to skip his coffee. They got into his jeep and Steffi directed him to a street of derelict buildings. The streets during that time of day were full of workers, military men, and machines clearing away rubble. With loose debris already cleared from that street, apart from a few people squatting in their old wrecked homes, the street was deserted. Steffi told George to stop halfway down the street, and they stopped outside a bombed-out house.

“This was my aunt and uncle’s house,” said Steffi, and the couple went inside.

Steffi led George into the living room and after removing a little rubble left on the floor, she opened a large wooden hatch. George helped her lifting the hatch open to reveal a set of steps. Steffi went down first, flipping a switch on a dark wall mid-way down. There came a slight rumble and whirring sound like a car motor starting. She tried several more times until the generator kicked into life and illuminated the stairwell and a cellar at the bottom.

“My uncle was an engineer. He made this bomb-shelter,” Steffi told George as they walked into a small, well-lit room. George noticed a sofa and a single bed, along with various cupboards containing tins of food and water in the brick cellar. It looked similar to his room at the barracks.

George looked around the room and asked, “What happened to your uncle and aunt? This place appears secure enough.”

“The allies shot them when my uncle tried to surrender,” said Steffi sounding nonchalant. She then walked up to George, threw her arms around him, and kissed him passionately.

They lay on the small bed, embracing and caressing each other. Steffi got off the bed and, with George gazing at her, removed her clothes, revealing her luscious, slender body. She gave George an impish smile while she took off his uniform. The rest of the world would be slow to accept or trust the German people again. However, Lieutenant George Sykes had passed the acceptance stage. Although surrounded by destruction and violence, he had found an inner peace being in love with Steffi. Oblivious to the outside world, they shared themselves.

“I could murder a cup of coffee,” joked George, as they lay entwined in each other.

“Oh, I think you want to go see the waitress at the café. I know you like her; you bring her chocolate.” joked Steffi.

“Yep, you’ve caught me: I love the veritable pig in knickers,” said George, as he gave Steffi another lingering kiss.

George had never considered his future before. It had never been a big issue until now. He was unsure how long he would remain in Germany. He knew Steffi would never leave, as she had already told him that she wanted to help rebuild her tattered nation. Feeling both happy, and melancholy, he said, “I know I have only known you a short while, but I can’t imagine not having you in my life.”

“Are you going to propose George Sykes?” Steffi interrupted, looking enigmatic.

George laughed, and mumbled, “No, I just want a coffee.”

They laughed again and Steffi feigned anger.

“You want the pig in knickers to have your babies, don’t you?” she frowned.

“Caught me again,” teased George.

“Baby George Sykes,” said Steffi and giggled.

“Then there would be two babies George’s walking around,” said George and chuckled.

Steffi furrowed her brow and said, “You never mentioned that you had a child… or that you were married,”

George smiled and told her, “I haven’t got children and I am not married.”

George saw Steffi frown and seeing how confused and upset she appeared, and with no doubt about Steffi’s honesty, told her, “Your friends, the Schuler’s, named their baby son after me.”

Steffi looked taken aback and asked George, “Why would Martina and Stefan Schuler name their baby, George Sykes?”

George chuckled and said, “No, silly. They named their baby, George Wolffe. They only used my first name.”

The couple chatted, laughed, and held each other until they noticed the time was drawing near curfew for Steffi. They slowly dressed and went outside.

As George drove back to the barracks, his thoughts were on his future with Steffi even if it meant him staying in Germany. With a smile a mile wide, he returned to the barracks and lay awake on his bunk. For George, the next day could not come soon enough. He formulated plans that would allow them to be together. He was well aware his senior officers would try to dissuade him from marrying a German, the same way he would have done to any of the soldiers under his command. Nevertheless, he felt ecstatic.

After George dropped Steffi at the hospital, she went to the hospital’s basement and walked along a dark corridor into a small office.

Dr Flanman sat behind a desk reading notes. He looked up, smiled, and asked, “Did you get the information?”

Steffi smiled and nodded.

Doctor Flanman smiled and took out a BUCH MOSE folder from his drawer. Flanman removed a file with a partially filled out form with a photograph attached to the top. The photograph was identical to the one Martina had pinned onto her hospital headboard.

Steffi gave Flanman the vital information she had acquired. The doctor smiled and filled in the missing space on the form.

Name: George Wolffe.

Dr Flanman said, “You have done well. Now that we have this vital piece of information for the Füehrer, we can get out of here. I am tired of the stench.”

He stood up, removed his clear glass spectacles and false dental crowns to reveal his normal teeth. He took off his shirt and unhooked a padded bodysuit. Going over to a mirror, he yanked off his grey false beard and other prosthetics that had aged him. Rubbing his now bald head, he sat back down and made a phone call while Steffi went to a wardrobe and took out two folded uniforms and two tin helmets with US insignia. She changed into her uniform. Flanman hung up the telephone and closed the BUCH MOSE folder. He placed it into a brown leather folder with a white star and U.S Presidential seal stencilled on the front.

Flanman changed into a U.S Colonels uniform. He went into his top drawer and took out forged military I.D.s for Lt. Col. David Sanders. U.S Diplomatic attaché, and Lt. Sharon Foreman.

Rudolf Flanman looked at his watch while Steffi went over to a gas stove and boiled the kettle.

They had just finished drinking tea when an American G.I. knocked and entered. Sergeant Hickman clicked his heels together, “Heil Hitler!” he said, saluting them both.

The two returned the hitlergruss and then Flanman asked him, “Everything set?”

“Yes sir. We have a clear passage through to the port. On my way back I briefed the checkpoints that I would be bringing an American VIP through soon,” replied Hickman in German.

“Were there any problems?” asked Steffi.

Hickman smirked, “Only an obnoxious American captain, but he has been taken care of,” said Hickman, “I apologise for not getting more information on the destination, but the John H. Brown’s crew wasn’t told.”

“You briefed our spy on board to tell us anything that we need to know?” asked Steffi.

“Yes, he will call to inform us of any useful information when they dock in America,” said Hickster.

“Okay, let’s go meet with our Füehrer,” said Flanman, standing and putting on his helmet.

They walked outside to the U.S.-marked saloon, passing a pile of stacked rubble by the side of the road. Hickman looked at the pile with disdain.

“A befitting tomb for the arrogant U.S. Army captain,” snarled Hickman, AKA, SS-Standartenführer Tomas Schroeder. He, along with SS-Hauptsurmführer, Dr. Josef Mengele – ‘The Angel of death,’ and Kriminalkomissar, Katrina Frume of the Gestapo, codename: Schwarze Witwe, the black widow, got into the car and drove away.