The Haigerloch Project

They entered town. The driver leaned on the horn, scattering other vehicles, bicyclists and pedestrians. Ahead was an intersection. A policeman was directing traffic.

“Stop here!” Harbicht called.

The driver skidded to a halt next to the startled policeman Harbicht impatiently beckoned the man over.

The policeman gave him a stiff-armed salute.

“Heil Hitler!”

“Have you seen an ambulance?” Harbicht shot at him.

“Ambulance?” The man scratched his ear.

“Yes! Ambulance, you idiot!” Harbicht thundered.

“Ah, yes!” The man brightened. “The ambulance. It came through here. Going very fast.” He drew himself up. “I gave it the right of way!”

“Why the devil didn't you stop it?”

“Stop it?” The policeman looked thunderstruck. “But — it was an emergency. It was quite clear. I had no reason to — to stop it.”

Harbicht knew the man was right. “Imbecile!” he snapped. “Which way did it go?”

“On the Stuttgart Strasse,” the policeman answered fretfully. “Stuttgart.”

“How long ago?”

“Five, ten minutes.”

Harbicht's thoughts raced. It made sense. The saboteurs knew they could not remain in Hechingen. Stay hidden from him But Stuttgart. A large city. A city of half a million. They could lose themselves in the crowds. Once they did — with half the city in ruins, government offices, records and registrations destroyed, thousands of refugees living in the rubble and constantly shifting about, the two enemy saboteurs would be almost impossible to find. It would be like tracing a snowflake in a blizzard….

But find them he must. He was certain they could provide him with the answers to all his questions — and suspicions. They — and they alone.

He had thirty kilometers in which to catch up with them. He turned to the driver.

“Stuttgart!” he ordered sharply. “Fast!”

The sign briefly caught in the sweeping headlights of the ambulance read.

ECHTERDINGEN

Kreis Stuttgart

“It is only a few more kilometers after Echterdingen,” Gisela said.

Klaxon blaring, they barreled through town…

They were racing through the darkness of a small grove of trees. The long, horizontal beams from their headlights sliced the tree trunks in two — miraculously restoring them as they roared past.

They emerged at the crest of a long hill gently sloping down before them. Abruptly Dirk slowed the careening ambulance — and stared ahead.

In the far distance lay the city of Stuttgart. Above it flared the searing crimson and orange hues of leaping flames, turning the horizon blood red. Countless large fires were blazing throughout the city. The city of Stuttgart was a primary bombing target. Home station of the 10th Panzer Division. Heavily destroyed in massive raids by the RAF Bomber Command and the US 8th and 15th Air Forces. Periodic raids currently being mounted to keep the Daimler-Benz tank, truck and aircraft-engine factories from rebuilding and to prevent the main railroad station in the heart of the city, a vital, strategically located railroad hub connecting the Rhine Valley with the Danube, from being repaired and able to function…. Corny's briefing had been detailed.

They were seeing the results of another air raid.

Directly below, the road crossed a railroad line. The bombers had destroyed the tracks for some distance in either direction. The road itself was heavily damaged also and pockmarked with bomb craters at the crossing. A cluster of houses just beyond the tracks had been hit. A few of them were still burning.

Dirk sent the ambulance speeding down toward the demolished tracks.

Near the crossing the road became almost impassable. Dirk had to slow to a crawl. Carefully he threaded the ambulance between the craters, twisted rail sections and splintered wooden ties….

They were through. The road ahead was relatively clear. The fires from the burning buildings made day out of darkness. Dirk accelerated. The ambulance careened down the road toward the cluster of fire-bombed houses.

Suddenly a figure dashed out onto the road. A woman. Caught in the harsh headlight beams, she waved her arms frantically. Dirk was forced to come to a skidding stop. The woman ran to the vehicle.

Her clothing was torn and singed. Her face was dark with soot and ashes, streaked with tears and dirt-caked blood from a cut above one eye.

“Gott sei dank!” she cried, her voice at the edge of hysteria. “Oh, God be thanked you are here!” She clutched the open window of the ambulance door with both her hands. They were gashed and black with soot, the fingernails torn and bleeding. “Come! Quickly! We cannot get her out!”

“Get who out?” Dirk asked.

“Lisl! Our girl. She is trapped. My husband cannot — Oh, God! Hurry! Please hurry! The fire—” Her sobs choked off her words.

Dirk cast a quick glance at Sig and Gisela. The girl at once put her hand on his arm. She looked at him, eyes big and imploring. “Please,” she whispered.

He jumped from the cab. Sig followed.

The woman was already running for the house, which was engulfed in flames. They raced after her.