The silence that greeted this last pronouncement was strained, but no one dared protest.
‘We are aware that you need manpower, and we will make available to you within the next few months ample supplies from our prisoner-of-war camps. The Reich will no longer feed, clothe, and house these parasites without compensation. As good German citizens, you will be expected to set satisfactory production norms and see they are properly met. Labour will come to you in two categories: those with technical skills and those without. The latter may be used as you see fit, in non-skilled positions.’
The officer continued in this vein for some minutes before he snapped to attention, bowed once, and resumed his seat. The meeting broke up then, and as Bethwig lit a cigarette he noticed von Braun engaged in an intense conversation with Heydrich. He was about to join in when Dornberger sat down beside him. ‘You never listen to me, do you?’
Bethwig glanced at him in surprise. ‘What are you talking about?’
Dornberger shook his head angrily. ‘You put yourself under obligation to Reinhard Heydrich, head of the SD and reichsprotektor of Czechoslovakia, and then you insult him.’
‘Insult him? How?’
‘By not coming to this meeting, you damned fool! Then, by appearing in work clothes and taking a seat at the back of the room. If that is not insulting behaviour I do not know what is.’
Bethwig grinned impulsively. ‘Do you think he deserves any better?’
Dornberger hesitated, then smiled in return. ‘Of course not. But he is an extremely powerful man; and if you cross him, neither your position here nor your father’s influence will protect you. The concentration camps contain a good many people who thought they could snub high-ranking party members. Do you understand what I am telling you?’
Bethwig did, and for a moment apprehension nudged at him. But he decided after brief reflection that he was safe enough from political manoeuvrings. Nevertheless, as it was worrying Dornberger, he decided to placate his boss. ‘All right, I’ll play the game. Tell me what to do.’
Dornberger gave him a sceptical look. ‘I hope you mean what you say, Franz.’ He started to say something more, then thought better of it. ‘Heydrich is giving a reception this evening. I have to fly to Berlin in an hour, so he’ll be using my quarters. I want you at that reception, on your best behaviour, keeping an eye on Wernher. He is getting in over his head.
‘I should be back before the weekend. Fortunately, Heydrich will leave tomorrow for Wolfsschanze. There is a rumour the Führer is giving him a new position. No one knows for certain whether it is a promotion or a demotion.’
Bethwig looked alarmed at that, and Dornberger clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Come now, if you wish to play the political game, you must accept setbacks as well as advantages. As far as I am concerned, nothing would please me more than to have that man lose interest in your project.’ Dornberger sighed and got to his feet. ‘Unfortunately, there seems to be little chance of that.’
Bethwig, carefully dressed in his best suit, hurried across the windy common to Dornberger’s spacious bungalow. An armed SS guard opened the front door smartly, and Bethwig caught a glimpse of several others stationed about the house. The hall was filled with fellow scientists and high-ranking technical staff waiting in a subdued line. Many wives were present, and they seemed more lively, chattering among themselves, each grateful for a rare chance to show off pre-war finery.
As the line moved forward, taking him into the living-room, he saw a row of SS officers, all resplendent in dress uniform, leading up to Heydrich. All officers above the rank of standartenführer, equivalent to colonel, were in the receiving line, those below were acting as serving staff. Even here there were armed SS troopers evident. Heydrich, at his most charming, was bending over the wrinkled hand of the wife of a Luftwaffe general officer, a shrill-voiced shrew whom Bethwig had encountered before. Heydrich said something to her, and she went into gales of laughter that cut off abruptly as he handed her on to Wernher von Braun who was the next in line.
Von Braun murmured something to the woman, and she returned a frosty glance before stepping away. Not even standing to the right of Reinhard Heydrich made a civil servant acceptable to the wife of a Luftwaffe general officer.
Bethwig shook hands with Heydrich when his turn came, and the reichsprotektor nodded. ‘We missed you at the meeting this afternoon. Fortunately, someone found you, I noticed. Perhaps we may talk later.’
Bethwig returned a smile just as cold. ‘I am at your service, Excellency.’
Von Braun gripped his hand and squeezed hard.
‘Why the hell did you do that?’ Bethwig demanded in surprise.
‘Keep your voice down.’ Von Braun grinned all the harder. ‘Because you are a jackass.’ Bethwig saw that the smile was fixed, and before he could retort von Braun had turned to greet the next guest. Puzzled, Bethwig stepped away from the reception line and snatched a drink from a passing tray. Turning slowly, he surveyed the room, counting four SS guards. He also noted that each SS officer carried a sidearm, whereas the army and air force officers present did not.
The line was coming to an end; the lower ranking technicians were being sped through now. With the usual attention to status, the guests had timed their arrivals to engage in the minimum of shuffling about as the line formed, always according to rank, imagined or real. Now they stood about in glum little clusters, nursing drinks and chatting about inconsequential topics. Clearly Heydrich’s visit and the news concerning slave labour were having a dampening effect.
Bethwig could not understand their attitude. Every section head and administrator had been demanding additional manpower for months, even though they knew it was not to be had. Captured soldiers were an ideal source. And certainly they would find labour at Peenemunde more rewarding than the maddening boredom of a POW camp. There was no reason why they should not be put to work. Most would probably be French, Norwegian, Czech or Danish – good intelligent types. But even Russians and Poles would be acceptable as unskilled labour.
He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see von Braun smiling at him. ‘Come, jackass, our master wishes to see us.’ Again the smile remained fixed as von Braun steered him towards Dornberger’s study, politely fending off two fellow workers who wanted to talk. Bethwig made him stop short of the door and pulled him towards the wall.
‘What the hell is this all about, Wernher? Why do you keep calling me a jackass?’
‘Because you are. Are you trying to get us both in trouble? Why didn’t you come to the meeting?’
‘I had something more important to do. The latest tests…’
‘To hell with them. Nothing is more important right now than keeping that shithead in there on our side.’
‘Shithead? Why, Wernher, I don’t think that quite expresses the proper respect for our revered – what was it you called him? – master?’
‘Stop acting the fool. You know what ‘I’m talking about. There was also that little staring contest between you two a few minutes ago.’ Von Braun hesitated, and Bethwig waited to hear what he was nerving himself to say.
‘Franz, you aren’t in his league. And even if you were, it doesn’t make sense to antagonise the man. If you make him angry enough, you could disappear for ever.’
‘Ah, so you are beginning to recognise that fact, are you?’
‘What the devil are you talking about? Heydrich is a… a ..’
‘Gangster?’ Bethwig supplied. ‘Worse than anything the Americans ever turned out?’