ACT II
9
Death Valley Blues
I can’t get the smell out of my nose. Outside, the war smells like piss and wet cement, but in here it reeks of burned flesh and pus. Human beings broken down into their ingredients. A million odors competing with one another. The putrid smell of rotting meat. The sweetness of caramelized fat. Charred leather, singed hair, and the metallic smell of blood. The worst part is these people are still alive. This; this is what Dante wrote about. The stench is so thick I can taste it. I can feel it crawling all over my skin.
I woke up in a hospital near Berlin. One of the Peenemünde engineers found us on the side of the road. Pure luck. We could have died alone in a ditch. Von Braun’s left shoulder is wrecked. His arm is fractured in two places. He’ll live, no thanks to me. I’m okay, except for a nasty cut above the eye.
There was an air raid not far from here. Allied forces dropped incendiaries by the thousand near a tire factory. The firestorm spread ten blocks in every direction. Thousands died in the inferno. The ones in here only wish they did. Most are civilians, some military. We can’t tell which is which because their clothes fused with their skin when the air around them reached four thousand degrees.
They wanted to keep von Braun for surgery, but we can’t wait. There are three thousand people making their way to Bleicherode, and von Braun is the man in charge. He knows it. He insisted they set his arm in a cast and let us leave. He is loyal to his people, maybe even a little brave. It bothers me, somehow. The world is easier to grasp in black-and-white. This war… it’s nothing but gray.
The other person in my room is a ten-year-old girl. I know that only because I heard the doctor say it. She has no skin left, none. She’s just a dark red shape, scabs in the form of a human being. I can’t bear to look at her, but she has to, because her fucking eyelids are gone. I wish her a quick death. Her, and the people who dropped those bombs on her, and the Nazis, and the German police. Maybe the whole world should burn. We don’t deserve to live if we’re capable of this.
I want to go home, but for now I’ll have to be content with leaving this hospital. We’d better do it soon. A nurse came in five minutes ago to draw my blood. Mother said they can’t look at our blood. No one can. I told her to stop. I did. I told her twice, then I snapped her wrist in half.
10
This Land Is Your Land
Dear Sarah,
I can only imagine your disquietude for I do not have children of my own, but I know all too well the iciness of an empty house. May your daughter return to you safely and expeditiously.
Thank you for inquiring about my situation. I am still teaching at Caltech but my research for the American government now takes up the bulk of my time. Sentiment towards the Chinese being what it is, my continued involvement in this project never ceases to surprise me. Nevertheless, this morning I received news that our program had been fully funded. I must admit to some trepidation but I am also filled with excitement. There is a small celebration scheduled for tonight and I promised to attend. As you know, social events are not my forte but I have been told these things only come with practice. We shall see. It is a momentous event for our group and despite my intermittent misgivings, I feel mostly at home in the company of these men.
Outside our lab, I remain very much a stranger. My colleagues are encouraging me to seek citizenship now that the Chinese Exclusion Act has been repealed. I am touched by their support, but a piece of paper will not put a stop to the stares and whispers. Citizen or not, they will not let me own a business, or marry whom I please. Perhaps it is simply our nature to mistrust what we do not know. Please forgive my grousing. I know you have endured your own share of prejudice.
I find your research on carbon dioxide both fascinating and daunting. I am baffled by the amount of measurements you have managed to collect in so little time. I have given your theory some thought and it shames me to say I do not have a proper answer. I would tell you that this is not my area of expertise, but it seems like a poor excuse knowing it is not yours either. You truly are a Renaissance woman.
Your data unambiguously suggests CO2 concentrations are on the rise, but a correlate in global temperature seems much more difficult to establish over a short period. As for mankind’s contribution to the phenomenon, it is worth considering the possibility that CO2 concentration has always been on the rise since our planet developed an atmosphere. From my limited perspective, the only way to properly answer these questions would be to extend your study over millennia instead of decades. I know how impractical that may seem since you do not have CO2 measurements from a thousand years ago. I also realize air from another era might prove difficult to obtain. With that said, I am fully confident in your ability to resolve the issue.
With your permission, I would like to share some data of my own. I am wrestling with the limits of fin stabilization and I would welcome your perspective on the matter if you are so inclined.
11
Y’a Pas de Printemps
All three thousand of us arrived in Bleicherode. We didn’t leave anyone behind. No one died. We kept families together and we made it. The Russians took Peenemünde. We just found out. The Americans, well, they’re so close, we can hear artillery fire from here. They’ll take Mittelwerk soon. Too bad we won’t be around when they do.
Kammler found out we followed his orders. I’m sure he was ecstatic. But with Germany losing ground, he has “concerns” about von Braun being captured by the Americans. No kidding. Now we’re surrounded by soldiers all day. There’s a whole lot of them, too. Major General Walter Robert Dornberger arrived this morning to meet us. He and von Braun hugged like long-lost brothers. Clearly these two like each other. Dornberger did pretty much the same thing we did and moved his men here to get away from the Allies. He’s in charge now. We’re not a group of scientists anymore. We’re the German army.
At first, I didn’t understand why Kammler wanted to keep us here. I thought he was just being stubborn. Give up, already! You’ve lost the war! I’m such an idiot. He knows he’s lost. I’m sure he’s known for a while now. He’s not thinking of Germany, or Hitler, or anything else. He’s doing all this for himself, holding the scientists hostage as a bargaining chip. I should have known. These people are evil and if there’s one thing the devil is good at, it’s saving its own skin. He’ll have to move us soon, but his first order of business is to increase von Braun’s value. Kammler ordered all the classified documents we were carrying destroyed. Boom. All the science, all the research, the notes, the microfilms, he wants it all burned. Von Braun will be worth a whole lot more if everything exists only in his head.
Von Braun had his own men load everything into trucks. He’s maniacally methodical. I’m sure he’d insist on loading it all up himself if his arm weren’t in a cast. There must be thirty tons of documents in these trucks. Decades of passion and dedication, all sorted inside neatly labeled boxes. It must be strange, watching your whole life being hauled away to the incinerator. The last box is being loaded now.