The prisoners were relieved to hear that the seven were not harmed and were relocating to another base for further debriefing.
The interview between Knocke and Lavalle had taken place on the Sunday; those with Knocke’s named candidates were satisfactorily concluded over the next four days. Perversely, the French had chosen Biarritz as the name for their symposium as it was not associated with Alsace, which was the symposiums actual location. Perhaps because it would all appear wholly French if, heaven forbid, news of it came out.
And so it was that Knocke and his comrades found themselves en route by truck to a secret location within Alsace, not to Biarritz in the south-west of France. It was the early morning of Friday 6th July 1945. The significance of that date brought a wry smile to some of the faces in the back of that truck. Two years previously, many of the group had been involved in the bitter combat in and around the Kursk Salient, and each man wrestled with memories of comrades lost in those dreadful days.
They passed incognito through the growing dawn, crossing from Germany into Alsace on their way to a sleepy little hollow called Orschwiller and their meeting with destiny and Colloque Biarritz at the Château du Haut-Kœnigsbourg.
Elsewhere in Europe, three other such groups were assembling in comparable secrecy, in and around Hamburg, Paderborn, and Frankfurt. All three comprising similaly tried and tested men who had also agreed to provide the unique services of the secret symposiums. The first two locations housed German officers of similar stature and rank to those assigned to ‘Biarritz’.
Frankfurt was different, graced with General grade officers of all nations, and concerning itself with higher matters.
However, all four were dedicated to the single purpose; that of educating the Western Armies in the fine art of fighting their erstwhile allies, the Red Army.
Chapter 10 – THE KAMERADEN
I would rather have a mind opened by wonder than one closed by belief.
The previous day the lorry had taken them straight to the Château where all seven were subjected to an intense medical examination, conducted sympathetically for a change. All were given vitamin supplements and, in one case, some penicillin tablets had been prescribed to address a throat infection. Each was then afforded the opportunity of a hot bath or shower, an opportunity which was universally accepted.
The rest of the day had seen the group casually escorted around their impressive new home and given the full guided tour by Patrice Dubois, a young officer of the French Naval commandos. During the tour, he also pointed out the strengths of the security arrangements put in place for the symposium. None of the group failed to notice the very obvious fact that a considerable amount of the security faced inwards and was for an entirely different but not unexpected reason. None of them had any doubt that was part of the purpose of this “impromptu” tour.
In the northeast corner of the lower courtyard, silent kennels caught everyone’s eye, for German soldiers loved their dogs and this group were no exception. The four large and obviously recently built pens held three German Shepherd Dogs of considerable size. One hound was obviously out being exercised or doing its duty. Resisting the urge to approach closer, the group moved on to the Little Bastion.
The Château was impressive as a structure in any case, many different levels built into the solid rock on the site of the old fortress which had overseen the area in one form or another since the 12th Century. Standing on the eastern edge of the summit at a height of over seven hundred and fifty metres, it was the dominating feature for many miles around. The narrow approach twisted and turned, by both military design and constructional engineering requirements. Indeed the previous evening they were twice aware that their transport grated along rock or wood on sharp turns and narrow squeezes.
It sat on a stark promontory, open to the elements but that was a godsend on hot summer’s days like today, when breezes ventilated the Château and created a very pleasant environment. From positions around the battlements, and especially from the imposing high tower, there were all-round expansive views across the Alsace plain.
The Château was strategically positioned, so had seen its fair share of bloodshed, and had fallen to assault on more than one occasion. Not that any assault was a possibility any more with peace in Europe, but one hundred and twenty aggressive looking and well-armed French commandos would certainly call a halt to any belligerent incursion in any case. During the Thirty Years War, a Swedish army had laid siege to, taken and razed the castle to the ground, since when it had fallen into unoccupied decay for over two hundred years until efforts were made to rebuild it in 1882, which failed for lack of funds.
The city of Selestat, which owned the Château, offered it to the German monarchy and so it was that the impressive reconstruction of the present Château was started at the turn of the century at the behest of the Kaiser Wilhelm II. That was probably one reason why the French nation did not take it to their hearts so readily, and which national reticence made it an ideal secret location for ‘Biarritz’?
Their hosts had provided a veritable mountain of American “Chesterfield”, “Camel” and “Lucky Strike” cigarettes, as well as ‘Gauloise’ and ‘Gitanes’, which were seized upon by everyone. A nice touch was the quality Colibri lighters, each man’s name perfectly engraved in the solid silver cartouche. A splendid evening meal of venison and light conversation followed by an early night was about all they could manage.
Comfortable and content with his small medieval style bedroom, complete with four-poster bed and embroidered wall hangings, it took little time for Knocke to undress, clean his uniform and swiftly descend into his dreams. Woken gently from the best sleep he had experienced for months, if not years, Ernst-August washed and shaved at an old wooden wash stand that looked like it might have accompanied one of the previous occupants on the early crusades. Then, as the new French orderly had requested, he made his way to the dining room for breakfast.
Immediately losing his bearings he took a wrong turn from his bedroom, the former Empress’s Chamber, and found himself descending the spiral stairs before being rescued by a passing orderly, who directed him along the first level walkway to climb a different spiral staircase to the dining room. On arrival at the top of the stairs he greeted two of his comrades warmly, immediately noticing that their uniforms had been replaced by civilian suits of a superior cut in a fetching dark grey and pinstripe, which if not a perfect fit, were close enough. Yet again, he had been left with his uniform. Both men lacked enough meat on their bones to make the suits sit perfectly, but if the standard of hospitality continued then that would soon be remedied.
And so it was that the group came together on the morning of 7th July, refreshed and more than ready to enquire as to the purpose of that which they had committed to. Unlike the previous evening, when the galleried dining room belonged solely to them, the flags and orderlies, they were now joined by a stranger in an impressively cut lounge suit. Seated at the head of the long wooden table was an imposingly large Frenchman. He was deep in discussion with Wolfgang Schmidt, Knocke’s former Chief of Staff, until recently an Obersturmbannfuhrer in 2nd SS Panzer Division. Another comrade from Das Reich walked in from the stairs, distanced respectfully behind Ernst, a position Dr Jurgen Von Arnesen had occupied on many occasions when he served as a Sturmbannfuhrer of Panzer-Grenadiere’s in Rolf’s division.