‘Not to my satisfaction, ‘I’m afraid,’ Viscount Cherwell interrupted.
Memling ignored the comment and continued: ‘What you say about limited resources and their distribution among various war-effort goals is quite correct. My only objection to your conclusions is that they presuppose a logical and efficient effort directed towards planning. If that were the case, I am certain the rocket, at least at this stage of development, would not be seen as economically feasible.’
He could see that Cherwell was taken aback by his answer, and pressed on: ‘I have spent nearly a year’s time in German-controlled territory, and during that time I never once saw a single bit of evidence to suggest that efficient and effective planning had taken, or was taking, place. Rather I saw the exact opposite. Foreign workers in most industries are treated little better than slaves. The Peenemunde organisation is the single exception, and I would suggest even that will change as the SS becomes more deeply involved. I could begin to detect the same fear there that I found in Belgium… and believe me,’ Memling blurted in a rare moment of candour, ‘I am an expert on fear. Ernst Mundt was an exception, and I hate to think what has happened to him because of me. As additional support for my theory that planning is neither logical nor efficient in the Third Reich, consider the fact that Jews are persecuted in Germany despite the fact that the Jewish population formed the single largest pool of industrial and scientific talent Germany possessed. Instead of being allowed to play a part in the war effort, they have become ruthlessly exploited slave labourers confined to concentration camps. That suggests a system groping through a tangle of political and ideological nonsense.’
‘The rocket project and its extent are consistent, in my view, with the Nazi predilection for grandiose schemes. It is being called a terror weapon, but I have serious doubts, from what Mundt told me, that the Army High Command views it as such, or even as the secret weapon that will win the war. Instead, they seem to think it a useful, if expensive, adjunct. But it will see service, and win the war or not, it will cause great damage to our cities and populations. I have seen it rising above the trees with its engine flaming, and it frightened me to death. If Mundt is correct and the even more powerful rocket is successful, then all major cities within its five- or six-thousand-mile range are doomed to complete destruction.’
Viscount Cherwell stared at him for a moment, but before he could ask a further question one of the other men at the table, a civilian official from the Home Office, asked for Memling’s assessment of the bombing raid on Peenemunde and how it might have affected operational use of the weapon. The air vice-marshal representing Bomber Command stared long and hard as he began.
‘You must realise that what I say comes only from studying photographs and relating it to what I learned while on the ground. Briefly, the raid, while it appears to have been pressed home with great skill, missed damaging the vital installations on the island only because they were skilfully camouflaged, a fact I did not realise until I saw the aerial photographs. My assessment, then, after two weeks of study, is that development has probably been slowed only three to four months at best.’
Memling gave Viscount Cherwell a long steady look. ‘I recommend, therefore, that three projects be put in motion as soon as possible. First, organise an effective tactical fighter bomber force to seek out and destroy the rockets before they can be launched. Second, warn the Americans and Canadians about the A-Ten. And third, bomb Peenemunde again and again until it is utterly destroyed. To fail in any of these three will subject—’
‘Preposterous!’ The air vice-marshal snorted. ‘CIU assures us that incalculable damage was done and that the work will have been thrown back by at least a year if not more. Our own Air Intelligence assessment concurs.’
‘Were any of your people on the ground at Peenemunde, Air Vice-Marshal?’ Simon-Benet murmured.
‘You know damned well they were not, sir. However, they are trained in the assessment of bomb damage from photographs and have had a great deal of experience at the job. With all due respect to Major Memling, even though he has been there he does not have the skills required to interpret after-raid photographs. My people do.’
‘Is that why Bomber Command’s raids on aircraft plants have resulted in increased production of German fighter aircraft?’ As he made the remark the brigadier got to his feet, expression angry. ‘I would suggest, gentlemen, that we stop trying to protect our own backsides in this matter. Time is running out. Soon those damnable rockets will be raining down on Britain and God knows where else. How are we to explain to the British people that we were not prepared? Since 1938 we have had warning after warning, and all have been ignored. MI-Six, of which you speak so highly, Air Vice-Marshal, buried Major Memling’s reports because they sounded too far-fetched to be believed by his superior – who, I might add, read classics at Exeter College. This in spite of the fact that MI-Six received copies of a document delivered to our embassy in Oslo in September 1939 which outlined the entire Nazi military research programme. In addition, both Polish and Czech resistance groups have sent reams of wireless data bearing out what Major Memling has learned. And just this past spring MI-Six distributed the transcript of a conversation between Generals Thoma and Cruewell in the London Cage in which Thoma expressed surprise that London was not yet in ruins from rocket bombardment. He even described to General Cruewell the rocket launchings he had witnessed at a firing range in Germany!’
Simon-Benet glared around the table. ‘This man has risked his life twice now – no, three times – to bring us information concerning Germany’s rocket work, and so far his only thanks have been a questioning of his motives.’
Afterwards it seemed to Memling that no one’s mind had been changed even the slightest. All three proposals had been rejected completely, and he felt the meeting, like his mission in Germany, had been a waste of time and effort.
Sandys asked both him and Simon-Benet to remain after the others left, then disappeared with the brigadier, leaving Jan in the library. He was exhausted, but the tension engendered by the meeting would not leave him and he paced the room as the shadows deepened.
Part of him yearned for refuge in the flat in Montague Street, yet, at the same time, he was not all that anxious to go back to the strained atmosphere present since his return. Janet had tried hard to recreate their first days of marriage; that much he recognised. The truth of the matter, if he would only have allowed himself to admit it, was that he was suffering from shock. He had had far more contact with the enemy than most other soldiers and for far longer, and the nature and cruelty of those incidents had all worked on his subconscious, twisting his perceptions and straining his capacity to remain a thinking, rational being. Memling, like other soldiers constantly exposed to killing, was discovering that it had become too easy, that one had to struggle against the temptation to kill for the sake of killing or simply sparing oneself the trouble of dealing with prisoners. The deliberate torture and murder of Francine, coupled with his own execution of the four SD men, had driven him to the verge of nervous exhaustion in the Swedish detention camp. He had not recognised the symptoms for what they were, but had ascribed them to nervousness and apprehension as a result of his narrow escape and the pressure of the information he carried. Once Commander Fleming had told him that the bombing raid had been carried out, a great weight had been lifted from him, and a deep lethargy had set in on his return to London.