Opening Moves

Nothing was said by either man until they were safely back underway and out in mainstream again, pushing upriver at good speed. Even Rolf’s near-failure to jump back on board once he had untied the mooring line raised no comment from either man.

“Soon. It will happen soon.”

Rolf could only nod.

They approached the American checkpoint and prepared to go through the same charade.

1313 hrs Sunday, 5th August 1945, Ybbs an der Donau, Soviet Occupied Lower Austria.

After passing through the American checks, Rolf returned to the hold as Braun, then Shandruk took their turns in the sunlight, the shabby hat changing hands almost as a deck pass.

St Nikola, Grein, and Ardogger all slipped past as the barge drove on.

What was very apparent was that the southern bank of the river, the Soviet side, contained a lot of military positions and hardware but an absence of activity, or at least the attendant daily activity that would be expected to go with maintaining the positions and equipment.

Uhlmann changed places with Braun as directed by Pförzer, emerging back on deck after a satisfactory nap in the hold.

In the wheelhouse, Rolf saw that Hub had been busy, for the green bag was again obviously full.

“I will be pulling into shore shortly Rolf. I have an important contact in a place called Mitterkirchen. If I think it is right, I will speak to him of our problem.”

Within minutes, the barge was tied up on the north bank and Pförzer and his green bag disappeared once more.

In next to no time, he was back.

Rolf did not press him until the barge was safely moving away from the bank.

He slipped into the wheelhouse but was forestalled by an apparently vexed Pförzer.

“He wasn’t there.”

“Schiesse.”

“Indeed Mein Herr, however I have discovered something of importance.” Rolf looked at Pförzer but waited, as he knew there was more to come.

“I haven’t yet decided if it is a good thing or a bad thing.”

The inevitable cigarettes were lit and drawn on, one in thought, one in anticipation.

Rolf waited.

“We decided that we wanted a combat soldier, someone with enough clout to get men out of bed on a Sunday. We may well have hit the jackpot.”

Intrigued, Rolf waited.

“The visitor to Mauthausen. He will do, if we can get to him that is.”

Anticipating more, Rolf drew deeply on his cigarette.

“He is the Allied Commander in Austria, General Mark Clark in person.”

Rolf’s head snapped up, and he immediately choked noisily on the smoke forced from his lungs by his exclamation of surprise.

Grinning from ear to ear, Hub leant against the wheel and slapped Rolf’s back hard a number of times.

“More to the point, he is staying the night in Enns, and there is only one place in Enns suitable for such royalty.”

With watery eyes and continuing choking sounds, Rolf listened.

“The Hotel Lauriacum on Wiener Straße. That is where our man will be tonight, and that is where you will tell your story Herr Sturmbannfuhrer.”

Chapter 35 – THE PEACE

Boast not thyself of tomorrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.

Proverbs 27-1

2125 hrs Sunday, 5th August 1945, Château du Haut-Kœnigsbourg, French Alsace.

Even in the dusky light of a late and stormy European evening, the Château de Haut-Kœnigsbourg was an impressive site.

Having passed through a checkpoint staffed with some relaxed looking commandos, Ramsey took greater notice of his home for the week.

As the Austin staff car moved gingerly up the road, the Black Watch Major could not help himself but appreciate the building from a professional point of view. Even with modern technology, the assault would be difficult and any meaningful defence would put an attacker to the sword, at least from this side of the fortifications.

The east entrance area was obscured by parked vehicles belonging to some French unit, a solid barbed-wire compound further inhibiting pedestrians. The Austin passed through a second checkpoint at the east end of the Château and down a small parallel road that then made a final turn up to the impressive large single wooden door that barred the way into the Château.

A third checkpoint marked the end of the journey.

As his transport rattled to a halt Ramsey could not help but think of older times, when unwelcome visitors would be received with hails of arrows and streams of boiling oil, until they scaled the battlements, when the hacking off of limbs could commence in earnest.

“We have come such a long way.”

“Sorrah Sir?” said his driver, his tongue tip sticking out as he concentrated on the manoeuvre to hand.

“Nothing McEwan, just thinking out loud son.”

The young driver looked at his commander and made the wrong assumption.

“Dinnae fret yersel major. The week will be gan afore ye know it. Onyways, it isnae that far back tae base.”