Rolf had an advantage over his fellow prisoners in that he could speak excellent Russian. That made him invaluable to his captors and often he was the only person privy to both sides of interrogations and discussions between the “management” and his own boys. It didn’t stop him getting his share of physical attention from the Bulgarians but his duties often took him within range of food, drink and other objects that somehow found their way into his possession. More than one young man in field-grey had profited from Rolf’s activities in receiving life-sustaining food when at deaths door.
His latest acquisitions of Red Star cigarettes and matches were in the possession of Hauptsturmfuhrer Braun, ready for allocation. Braun was the senior NCO in camp and Rolf’s former top dog in the panzer battalion of which he was once commander. More to the point, he was also Uhlmann’s close comrade and would soon, fate willing, be his brother in law. Both he and Braun had been captured when their battalion, II Abteilung, 5th SS Pnz Regt, had been virtually annihilated outside Vienna on 26th March 1945.
They had managed to destroy everything of use to the advancing Russians as their surviving men tried to make good their escape towards the west. A few days of evasion and they were both finally taken prisoner without a shot being fired just northeast of Traismauer. Both men marvelled that they had been taken prisoner at all, given their arm of service and insignia, but neither ever spoke of it to the other. It had been a nervous few hours most certainly, and more nerve-wracking than combat so Rolf thought.
After some time they had been moved off with a few other stragglers, none of whom was from Uhlmann’s unit, he was glad to see. A few pioneers and artillerymen from Wiking for sure but the division obviously had made good its escape.
After being marched around a few different holding areas he and Braun had come to rest in Edelbach and it had become their home, such as it was. What the future held for all of those incarcerated there was unknown but given that the Germany that had laid waste to half of Europe was defeated and that those who had suffered were bound to bay for blood, Rolf felt that it would be long and unpleasant.
He was partially wrong and, unfortunately for many who shared his present fate, he was also partially right.
Chapter 16 – THE UNDERSTANDING
A promise made is a debt unpaid.
The work was still being done in the office of the Soviet General Secretary.
As usual, Beria was there. Less the norm was the presence of Deputy Chairman Bulganin and People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs Molotov, both members of the GKO.
“I can accept the reasoning behind delaying implementation of section 13 of your plan, Lavrentiy, but I see no reason not to send out a warning order to allow our men on the ground to prepare. It is not a small business after all, and we must learn the lessons of Katyn.”
A word guaranteed to make Beria recoil. Hardly the NKVD’s finest hour, when something that was supposed to be clandestine had made the world’s front pages in the middle of a world war. It was a total embarrassment to the Motherland, let alone the NKVD.
Beria folded immediately.
“As you direct Comrade General Secretary. I will send out the preparation order this evening.”
Both other men nodded sagely at the decision to liquidate thousands of helpless men.
“So, until tomorrow’s GKO meeting, comrades.”
The three departed and walked together to their respective cars.
Beria paused.
“Comrade Molotov, a word if I may.”
They took their leave of Bulganin and waited until his car pulled away.
The two men did not particularly like each other.
“Vyacheslav Mikhailovich, a word of assistance to you and your family.”
Molotov prickled but he held his peace.
“It has come to my attention that one of your line, your sister’s boy Viktor, is speaking loosely of something he should know nothing about.”
Molotov knew only too well that of which Beria spoke. He had stupidly spoken to his wife in general non-specific terms about the upcoming Kingdom 39. She in turn had told his sister, who in her turn had confided in her son during his leave. The boy, using his military knowledge, had pieced together a lot more of what was to come. Viktor had spoken to him later, and received short shrift. From what Beria was saying it seemed Molotov’s anger had not made a difference.
He had never liked the boy anyway, and even more so since he tried using his Molotov’s name to attempt additional advancement within the NKVD.
“I have said nothing and will leave it to you to address. No harm is done at the moment. Unless he continues, in which case I will have to act. He is one of my men remember. “
“Thank you Lavrentiy Pavlovich. I am in your debt and I will address this. I will write to him immediately in the strongest possible terms.”
Both men knew that Molotov certainly was in Beria’s debt, but only one liked it. Beria had left unsaid the fact that it was Molotov who was most at risk for speaking loosely of Kingdom 39 in the first place. In the political manoeuvrings of the Kremlin, Molotov would be crippled for some time to come in his dealings with the NKVD Marshall.
“Good night Comrade Commissar.”
“Good night to you Comrade Marshall.”
Chapter 17 – THE CANARY
The superior man, when resting in safety, does not forget that danger may come. When in a state of security he does not forget the possibility of ruin. When all is orderly, he does not forget that disorder may come. Thus, his person is not endangered, and his States and all their clans are preserved.
The White Sands Bombing range was a desolate place and hot, so very, very hot. Of late, it had seen many visitors. Sat at the top of a one hundred foot metal tower was a gadget. Actually, The Gadget, for that was what it was called. It was a plutonium implosion device and it was there to be exploded to prove that the technology worked.
Scientists and military alike observed from positions around the site, some official and some unofficial.
Klaus Fuchs, also known as Gamayun, being on duty, watched from a proper camp some ten miles distant from the tower. A last-minute change in security procedures had left him with no opportunity to do anything harmful to the project. He hoped that the other agents within Manhattan would be more successful but his priority was his own survival.
Emilia Perlo, also known as Alkonost, had been enjoying the constant companionship of a reserved yet handsome Lieutenant Colonel of US Military Intelligence since lunchtime on Friday. They had excitedly discussed the upcoming test and agreed to take the early morning drive down to see the ‘rainbow’ in all its glory. Setting off while it was still dark, they had travelled in his staff car to a beautiful spot roughly fifteen miles southeast of Socorro and parked on high ground about twenty miles north-west of the device. The driver, she hadn’t expected a driver when the idea was first ventured, had parked up almost oblivious to the pair of them and they had carried their picnic hamper to a vantage point, smoked cigarettes, drunk soda and waited for the show.
This officer was new to the camp and Emilia had noticed him looking at her so the play had been made. He wanted to look round the camp so Emmy had been his guide for the whole weekend and now here they were. He was too much of a gentleman to accept her barely concealed offer to join her in her bed on the previous evening, but she hoped that he would lose his reserve for tonight.