River Of Death

The airfield was only two minutes' walk away and by the time the S.S. officers arrived there the troopers had finished loading and securing the chests aboard the two Junkers 88s, engines already running, parked side by side on the tarmac. At a word from Von Manteuffel, the troopers ran forward and scrambled aboard the farther plane: Von Manteuffel and Spaatz, doubtless to emphasize the superiority of the officer class, sauntered leisurely to the nearer one. Three minutes later both planes were airborne. In robbery, looting and plundering, as in all else, Teutonic efficiency shone.through.

At the rear of the lead plane, beyond rows of boxes secured to painstakingly prepared racks on the floor, Von Manteuffel and Spaatz sat with glasses in their hands. They appeared calm and unworried and had about them the air of men secure in the knowledge that behind them ky a job well done. Spaatz glanced casually out of a window. He had no trouble at all in locating what he knew he was bound to locate. A thousand, maybe fifteen hundred feet below the gently banking wing, a large building burnt ferociously, illuminating the landscape, shore and sea for almost half a mile around. Spaatz touched Von Manteuffel on the arm and pointed. Von Manteuffel glanced through the window and almost immediately looked indifferently away.

'War is hell,' he said. He sipped his cognac, looted, of course, from France and touched the nearest chest with his cane. 'Nothing but the best for our fat friend. What value would you put on our latest contribution to his coffers?'

'I'm no expert, Wolfgang.' Spaatz considered. 'A hundred million deutschmarks?'

'A conservative estimate, my dear Heinrich, very conservative. And to think he already has a thousand million overseas.'

'I've heard it was more. In any event, we will not dispute the fact that the Fieldmarshal is a man of gargantuan appetites. You only have to look at him. Do you think he will some day look at this? Von Manteuffel smiled and took another sip of his cognac. 'How long will it take to fix things, Wolfgang?'

'How long will the Third Reich last? Weeks?'

'Not if our beloved Fuehrer remains as commander-in-chief.'

Spaatz looked gloomy. 'And I, alas, am about to join him in Berlin where I shall remain to the bitter end.'

'The very end, Heinrich?'

Spaatz grimaced. 'A hasty amendment. Almost the bitter end.'

'And I shall be in Wilhelmshaven.'

'Naturally. A code word?'

Von Manteuffel pondered briefly, then said: 'We fight to the death.'

Spaatz sipped his cognac and smiled sadly. 'Cynicism, Wolfgang, never did become you.'

At the best of times the docks at Wilhelmshaven would have no difficulty in turning away the tourist trade. And that present moment was not the best of times. It was cold and raining and very dark. The darkness was quite understandable for the port was bracing itself for the by now inevitable attack by the R.A.F.'s Lancasters on the North Sea submarine base or what, by this time, was left of it. There was one small area of illumination and subdued illumination at that for it came from low-powered lamps in hooded shades. Faint though this area of light was, it still contrasted sufficiently with the total blackness around to offer marauding bombers a pin-point identification marker for the bombardiers crouched in the noses of the planes of the surely approaching squadrons. No-one in Wilhelmshaven was feeling terribly happy about those lights, but then no-one was anxious to question the orders of the S.S. general responsible for their being switched on, especially when that general was carrying with him the personal seal of Fieldmarshal Goering.

General Von Manteuffel stood on the bridge of one of the latest of the German Navy's longest range U-boats. Beside him stood a very apprehensive U-boat captain who clearly didn't relish the prospect of being caught moored alongside a quay when the R.A.F. appeared as he was certain they would. He had about him the air of a man who would have loved nothing better than to pace up and down in an agony of frustration, only there isn't much room for pacing on the conning-tower of a submarine. He cleared his throat in the loud and unmistakable fashion of one who is not about to speak lightly.

'General Von Manteuffel. I must insist that we leave now. Immediately. We are in mortal danger.'

'My dear Captain Reinhardt, I don't fancy mortal danger any more than you do.' Von Manteuffel didn't give the impression of caring about any danger, mortal or otherwise. 'But the Reichsmarshal has a very short way of dealing with subordinates who disobey his orders.'

'I'll take a chance on that.' Captain Reinhardt didn't just sound desperate, he was desperate. Tm sure Admiral Doenitz —'

'I wasn't thinking about you and Admiral Doenitz. I was thinking about the Reichsmarshal and myself.'