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Auf Wiedersehen, Berlin.
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Auf Wiedersehen, Berlin. |
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Windhover Member
since 2003-11-17
Posts 179UK |
A further extract from the novel I am writing. The Heroine is about to travel to Minsk in Russia, on a covert mission for the German High Command. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As they came down Columbiastrasse, the motorcycle escort began to slow as they approached the heavily wooded Hasenheide stretching away to their left. The escort turned right into the short Lilienthalstrasse, and the Verkehrspolizei Oberwachtmeister switched off his siren. Before them, as the road widened out into the parking area, lay the old Terminal building that had been elegantly designed by the Engler Brothers, and built little more than ten years ago... and now due for closure. Wolff brought the Mercedes to a halt in front of the entrance as the LSSAH escort switched off their engines. The Verkehrspolizei Oberwachtmeister swung his motorcycle around, and giving the normal Polizei salute to Wolff and Karyn, accelerated away up Lilienthalstrasse, heading north-west towards where the spire of the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtniskirche…The Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church in Kaiser-Friedrich-Platz, soon to be renamed Gardepionierplatz, loomed in the distance above the trees. With the echoing boom of the Verkehrspolizei Oberwachtmeister's BMW exhaust fading amongst the trees of the Hasenheide park; Wolff collected the RF-SS Attaché case from the dickey-seat of the Mercedes, and escorted Karyn into the Terminal Hall. Waving away the "Zollbeamter"... the Customs Official at the desk, they walked straight out to the old Heinkel building topped by the control tower, and also housing the radio station, that was originally used as the Terminal by the first passengers. The tall radio signal towers that had held the powerful beacons for night flying, that had once stood either side of the Terminal building had been removed, and the huge, white-painted, concrete letters spelling out "BERLIN" between the two central taxi-ways that stretched out onto the grass landing ground like an arrow-head, were now becoming faded, with grass beginning to blur the sharp edges. The concrete laying gangs were still working around the airport perimeter, laying a wide perimeter track in a complete encompassing oval around the old landing ground. To the north-west, a huge, wide apron of concrete was being laid in front of the skeletal beginnings of the new Terminal building, which would contain hangars and workshops forming a massive quadrant, twelve hundred metres long around one corner of the airfield, with hangars and gates all along the airfield side. Wolff and Karyn walked down the long covered walkway towards the airport apron where the Deutsche Lufthansa Heinkel He70 "Blitz" fast mail plane that had been taken off the Lufthansa "Blitzverkehr"... "Lightning traffic" routes operating between the main cities of Berlin, Frankfurt-am-Main, Hamburg and Köln, specifically for this flight, was waiting. It sat on the wide apron, its BMW 12-cylinder V-inline engine idling, with the big two-bladed propeller glittering in the afternoon sunlight. Shining silver and black; with the broad red Hakenkreuzfahne stripe across its fin and rudder below the blue encircled stylised "Crane in flight" Deutsche Lufthansa badge on the tip of the fin; it was a very smart livery. A silver lightning flash was painted along the aeroplane's flanks, zig-zagging down the engine cowling, to finish above the silver lettered "LUFTHANSA" on the aeroplane's black nose. A set of low steps had been placed at the trailing root of the starboard wing, and the young Heinkel navigator waited on the wing-root walkway to help his passenger up onto the wing and in through the door of the passenger cabin. Karyn stood at the steps and turned to say farewell to Wolff. He smiled, handed her the SS Attaché case containing the Walther and ammunition, the gold coins, her documents and the fighting knife. Her packed suitcase had been conveyed as promised, from the Kaiserhof Hotel, and was already on board in the luggage compartment behind the cabin. Two of the LSSAH outriders had left their machines in the concourse with the third outrider, and now stood behind him. Wolff smiled, and said, 'Gute Reise!... have a good trip, Fraülein Doktor. Keep in touch through the Embassy. If there is any real danger to you, we shall come and bring you out. The code-word to be sent in such a situation will be "Marlene"... Sepp's party piece.' He saw that Karyn was a little apprehensive, and said quietly, 'You'll be fine; remember, Sepp likes you… and if, God forbid, the code-word is ever sent, he has said he will send in his old SS-Stabswache "Zwölfenders" professionals, to bring you out. Now, off you go, the pilot's getting restless.' The young Deutsche Lufthansa navigator stretched down his hand, and helped Karyn up onto the wing root walkway, and into the passenger cabin. Karyn gave a last backwards glance out of the doorway, and as she did so, Wolff and the two SS outriders snapped to attention with a crash of heel-irons, and delivered a perfectly synchronised Hitlergruss. Karyn returned the salute, and ducked back into the cabin. The young navigator settled her on the rearmost of the four seats that were fixed in facing pairs, fore and aft, and strapped her in. She smiled, 'Danke sehr...'er.... ' The navigator gave her a shy smile, and replied, 'Hornbostel... Rudi Hornbostel, Fraülein Doktor.' and, with an ill-concealed blush, stepped out onto the wing and closed the door. She heard him clamber in through the door below the cockpit, where his navigation-radio station was below, and behind the pilot. The cockpit door slammed, and the vibrations settled as the big BMW engine picked up revs as the pilot went through his magneto-drop checks. Karyn smiled at the thought of the young navigator... poor lamb. She imagined him in front of her, behind the cabin bulkhead, flustered, and rummaging with his charts. He was sweet... about nineteen. Three years later, on Friday, 16th August 1940; ex-Deutsche Lufthansa... now Luftwaffe Navigator-bomb-aimer, Unteroffizier Rudi Hornbostel of 7/KG55 "Greif" squadron, based at Villacoublay, France; would embrace a terrible, screaming death above the soft, green fields and apple orchards of Sussex in the plunging, raging fireball that had been his Heinkel 111P bomber, G1+FR. He never even saw the Supermarine Spitfire of 602 Squadron, Royal Air Force; that poured a sustained, three second burst containing the new De Wilde incendiary ammunition into the Heinkel, causing the fuel tanks, and bomb load to detonate, less than one and a half metres behind his navigation station. Just one more casualty on a sunny August afternoon; barely twenty-two years of age, and he'd never known the touch of a woman. The engine revved up, and they started to move. With squeal of brakes, the Heinkel turned on the concrete apron in front of the old Terminal building. Karyn settled herself on the forward facing bench seat as the Heinkel began to move forwards. The Pilot taxied across the broad apron towards the right-hand taxiway that arched around the airfield almost to the centre of the acres of grass enclosed by the new perimeter track. The brakes squealed again as he turned to the left and moved towards the grass of the take-off and landing area. There was a slight jolt as the main undercarriage wheels rolled off the concrete onto the grass, and then again, the squeal of brakes as the pilot lined the nose of the aeroplane up to the east for his take-off, and stopped; the big BMW engine idling lumpily as he waited for clearance from the radio control tower in the old Terminal building. Karyn gazed out of the rear port window of the cabin and saw a red signal lamp glowing from the window of the control tower. Why the wait? She looked out of the starboard window and saw another Deutsche Lufthansa He 70 touching down out on the field. As the sleek aeroplane settled, with the afternoon sunlight shimmering on its beautiful silver shape, Karyn thought how it looked… for all the world, like a dragonfly settling on the surface of the pond in the meadow behind her parents' home in Grünheide. Perhaps she would not have thought this, had she known what it carried. This Heinkel was the fast mail plane from Munich. On board, in a sealed despatch pouch, it carried a communication addressed to the Führer from Dr. Wilhelm Stuckart, co-writer of the 1935 "Nürnberger Gesetze"…The anti-Jewish "Nuremberg Laws." Now, in the communication carried by the Heinkel that was just landing, Stuckart advocated the enhancement of the persecution of the Jews. The communication, entitled ''Redemptive anti-Semitism,'' included the following suggested measures: 1. "Race Defilers" to be sent to concentration camps after their prison terms were served. 2. Prohibition of Jews from operating businesses and trades, and from offering goods and services. 3. Aryanization... "Arisierung," the process of transferring Jewish-owned independent economic enterprises to "Aryan" German ownership throughout the Third Reich. The owners to be pressured, boycotted, and subjected to various forms of persuasion, force and terror to convince them to sell their businesses at a fraction of their value, to Germans. This had been gathering pace for some years, but now Stuckart advocated accelerating the process to culminate in the "voluntary" sales of Jewish-owned businesses to be made a compulsory stage of forced transfer under law, within a year. 4. The publication of conspicuous street posters and newspaper advertisements denouncing any German who bought goods from Jews. 5. Local newspapers to be forbidden to publish advertisements of Jewish enterprises. 6. Segregation of Jews from the German "Aryan" population. 7. A series of measures to be invoked which completely prohibit Jewish brokers, doctors, teachers and lawyers from working. 8. "Aryan" doctors to be permitted only to treat "Aryan" patients. 9. Jewish children to be banned from going to public schools. Here, in this modest sealed pouch nestled the catalyst that would fortify Hitler's ideology of "Lebensraum" as he had detailed in his book "Mein Kampf," published in 1925… and would lead inexorably to the genocide of the Jewish population of Europe a few short years into the future. As she watched from the starboard window, the Mail plane disappeared, as its pilot completed his landing run and turned towards the Terminal. She glanced out of the port window and saw a green light flash from the control tower. The pilot pushed the throttle fully forward and held the Heinkel on its brakes as the big BMW engine noise built up to a snarling, vibrating crescendo. He released the brakes and the Heinkel leapt forward. Karyn was pushed back into her seat as the grass began to rush past. She felt the tail lifting and then her ears popped as the Heinkel rose swiftly into the skies. Tempelhof Feld dropped away, and then they were climbing out beyond the airport boundary. There came a double thump that shivered through the aeroplane as the main wheels came up and locked into the wing wheel-wells. She watched the Teltow kanal basin drift into view as the Heinkel banked around to port, and the pilot set course to the north-east. The snarling bellow of the engine softened as the pilot throttled back to climbing speed. As she gazed out of the cabin window, she watched the Spree and the Rummelsburger See slip away below. Out to the north-west she could make out the heart of Berlin… the Siegessäule, distant and slender, thrusting up from the green sea of the Tiergarten; the Dom, shining brightly in the afternoon sunshine. As they gained height, Berlin became smaller and smaller, the sprawl of streets and houses began to thin, and green replaced the browns and blacks. The Heinkel flew out over Nuenhagen… Eggersdorf… Strausberg, with the green fields giving way to the darker woodlands, and there… out to the left, she saw the Strausberger See, shaped like a shining blue seagull in flight. The Heinkel climbed higher. Soon it would reach its operational cruise height of five thousand metres. It was beautiful up here, with hardly a cloud in the sky. Down below Karyn saw another big lake. Suddenly, a voice crackled in the cabin. Startled, Karyn looked around. On the bulkhead in front of her she saw a small loudspeaker. The navigator, Theo Hornbostel, was saying that the lake below, to port was the Kietzer See that lay to the north-west of Neuhardenberg, and that soon, they would be crossing the River Oder. The Heinkel droned on into the east. The land was very flat as they began to cross into the Polish corridor. There were more woods below, and a sprinkling of lakes. The rest of the land was farming land, stretching away, with a village here and there, more lakes, and many small pine forests. The hum of the engine and the gentle vibration was quite soporific. Karyn found herself beginning to nod off. Suddenly, she was jerked awake by Rudolf Hornbostel's voice crackling on the cabin loudspeaker. 'Excuse me for disturbing you, Fräulein Doktor, but the pilot has identified a storm front ahead, and is about to climb to our maximum altitude in order to attempt to fly over it. It will become much colder in the cabin. If you lift the cushion of the seat in front of you, there is a locker. In there, you will find a flying jacket and a flask of coffee for your comfort. If the storm front is too high, I shall inform you. Should I have to do so, then please put on your seat harness. It is likely to be a little bumpy… Danke schön.' Karyn looked out of the cabin window. The sky was still a beautiful blue, with wisps of trailing cloud far above. She heard and felt the Heinkel's engine increase its droning as the pilot began to gain height. As she watched, a plume of condensation from the engine's exhausts began to stream back past the cabin window. At first, it was soft and feathery in appearance, but as the Heinkel climbed, it became thicker. The navigator had been correct, it was becoming chillier in the cabin. She reached forward, and opened the locker of the seat facing her. Just as he had said, there was a Luftwaffe-style, blue-grey, leather flying jacket badged with the Lufthansa crane emblem, and a flask of coffee. She slipped on the jacket. The Shearling lining wrapped itself about her. She snuggled her face into the thick brown collar. It was gloriously warm. She opened the flask and the aroma of real coffee filled the cabin. She poured herself a cup and settled back into her seat. She gazed around the cabin. There were two windows on the left, with a large map of Deutsche Lufthansa routes fixed neatly to the fuselage wall between them. Spaced along the cabin wall were three wall-lamps with green bakelite, semi-circular shades that shone downwards… one above each seat, and one over the map. On the other side were three windows; one being in the door, and one to either side; and two of the green-shaded lamps mounted on the cabin wall; one above each seat. The fuselage sides and floor were a beige coloured sort of checkerplate… much the same design as non-slip metal stair treads. This finish extended half-way up the cabin sides to where a metal strip separated it from the upper cabin and roof decoration, which was a sort of pale pink and smoky-grey, smooth marbled finish, reminiscent of the end papers of an expensive book. As she sipped the coffee, she noticed that the deep blue of the skies were fading to a misty grey. The condensation trails were becoming thick and white, and beads of moisture were weaving across the outside of the cabin windows, and being whipped away by the slipstream. She had just finished the coffee and screwed the cup back onto the flask when the Heinkel hit the edge of the storm front. The sleek fuselage plunged into the cold front that had risen from off the Siberian wastes far behind the Ural mountains, and which rose to something above twelve thousand metres. The Heinkel began to buffet and rock. Quickly, Karyn strapped herself into her seat as the skies became darker. In the cockpit, the pilot stared out of his windscreen. There, no more than ten kilometres ahead, was the biggest and most ominous thunderhead he had ever seen. The Anvil-headed cloud formation stretched for kilometres across their heading. His instruments were going crazy due to the rapid drop in barometric pressure, the altimeter was rapidly winding up... thank God for the "tube and ball" turn and bank indicator... at least he could see that he was maintaining attitude. All the barometric pressure driven instruments were becoming as good as useless. This was an early Heinkel. The newer ones had Askania electric instruments. This one was fitted with the traditional "suck and blow" barometric variety. Deutsche Lufthansa Flugkapitän Willi Hettinger had seen a great many thunderheads, but this was a big one. Already, he could see the gust front, and feel it through the controls. The altimeter was spinning down again. The atmospheric pressure was rising fast. The rain was spattering his windscreen, and the up-draughts and down-draughts were bouncing the Heinkel about. He barely had time to feel the vicious wind-shear that suddenly struck from out of nowhere. The Heinkel dropped like a stone. It must have lost several hundred metres altitude before Willi managed to pull her nose up. He could feel the sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades as he hauled her up. Lightning was flickering and darting through the dark cloud walls. Suddenly, a bright, blue-white glow... St. Elmo's Fire, began to appear on the wing leading edges and the prop-tips. This blue-white fire continued to grow to a depth of about twelve centimetres at the leading edges, and the entire prop circle became a blueish-purple disc. Willi heard the St Elmo's Fire "singing" on the Heinkel's radio… a frying or hissing sound running up and down the musical scale; this was going to be a rough one. Strange spider-web patterns of St Elmo's Fire were running all over the windows, and were quite visible even with the cockpit lights full up. The whole of the engine top cowling was glowing purplish-blue.This was not a good sign… the soft glow of the positive charge in the aeroplane's metal skin was reaching skywards in response to a growing area of negative charge in the clouds or air above. He lowered the seat as far as it would go, tightened the seat harness so that he could hardly breath; and then turned up the cockpit lighting as bright as it would go, in case lightning struck the plane… then he wouldn't be blinded by the flash quite so much. He knew that this display of St Elmo's Fire was often the portent to a lightning strike, and he wanted to be ready. |
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
Interesting...James |
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