The Haigerloch Project

Gisela nodded. “I will be fine,” she said softly.

Oskar eased the engine to a stop in front of the closed railroad gate. He jumped to the ground, followed by Gisela. He strode to the heavy-wire gate. Two SS guards eyed him suspiciously, their weapons at the ready. Oskar recognized one of them from his previous trips to the area. A fellow named Kurt. Couldn't hurt.

“Open the gate, Kurt,” he demanded. “I cannot unload the damned crates out here!”.

“We have orders to let nothing through,” one of the guards said gruffly.

“What?” Oskar sounded incredulous. “Have they not told you?” He pointed to the crates. “Look!” he said. “It is a special shipment. Look at all the damned signs all over the crates. It is an important shipment. From Stadtilm! Can you not read? Special Handling, it says. Urgent!”

The guards looked uncertainly at one another.

“Stadtilm?” the guard named Kurt asked tentatively.

“Read it yourself, Kurt,” Oskar said. “The damned stenciling is big enough.”

It might work, he thought. It had to. The Ami agent Dirk had been right. Stadtilm was important. A magic word. As he had thought it would be from having watched the cars marked STADTILM on the siding during their orientation trip to the Sperrzone. Those cars had been under heavy guard.

“And how the devil will I get the damned things unloaded,” Oskar asked querulously, “with these fat-headed new rules forbidding foreign workers in the area?” He looked at the SS guards. “Or are you going to do the job?”

“Wait here,” the SS guard said sourly.

He walked to the guardhouse Oskar and Gisela could see him making a call.

Gisela could feel her legs trembling. She tried desperately to stop them. She dreaded that the SS guards would notice. She thought of Dirk. His was the far more dangerous part of the job.

She watched the SS man return from the guardhouse.

“Security has no information about any special shipment,” he said, his face grim.

“Dammit!”. Oskar exploded “Is that my fault? Do I run your outfit? Very well, I will take the damned crates back to the yard. They can sit there and rot, for all I care. I have done my duty. I am off the hook!” He shrugged elaborately. “Let the Bonzen bitch — let the big-shots bitch! It is no skin off my ass!” He turned to leave.

“You are ordered to go to the Kommandantur,” the SS man said.

“Delays,” Oskar grumbled. “Damned delays.” He turned to Gisela. “Come with me, Fräulein Führerin,” he said. “Die Beamte—the bureaucrats — are waiting!”

“You go alone, Weber,” the SS guard said. “She stays.”

“Oh, brilliant!” Oskar exclaimed “The Führerin is from the Reichsforschungsrat—the Reich Research Council. From Kernphysikalische Forschung—Atomic Research. She has all the papers. Waybills The works. You don't think she will just dump the damned crates and leave without getting an official receipt, do you?”

The SS guards looked at one another.

“Let me see the papers,” Kurt demanded.

Gisela pulled a sheaf of papers from inside her tunic. Her heart beat wildly. Please God — let my hand not shake when I hand them to him….

Kurt took the papers. There were a couple of dozen of them. He riffled through them. Gisela hardly dared breathe. Did they look important enough? Were there enough official stamps? And signatures? They had labored hours during the night trying to make the papers as impressive and intricate and difficult to understand as possible. Would their efforts pass inspection?

Kurt frowned over the papers.

“I will need at least six men,” Oskar said plaintively. “Those crates must be filled with lead! Who is going to do the unloading, I ask you? Answer me that! Who? The Kommandantur had better come up with some answers!”

The SS guard handed the papers back to Gisela. “Very well,” he said. “You go with Herr Weber. To the Kommandantur.”

“Listen, Kurt,” Oskar said. “You keep a good watch on those crates. Let no one near them until we return. It is most important.”

The SS man nodded “Make it fast.”

He and the other guard rolled back the heavy gate far enough to let Oskar and Gisela through.

Oskar felt enormously gratified. It had worked! Try to push in a load of hay, the Ami agent had said, and it will be much easier for them to let a couple of straws go through!

Briskly he and Gisela walked into the area toward the Kommandantur in the Swan Inn….

* * *

The ambulance was two minutes early. It skidded to a halt on the service road outside the signal-post shack. Two attendants dismounted.

Sig came running from the shack.

“This way!” he called. “He's in there. Bring a stretcher. He is badly hurt!”

Quickly the two men opened the back of the ambulance and hauled out a stretcher. They hurried to the shack and entered.

They stopped short.

They stared at the Luger held steadily in Dirk's hand.

Sig stood in the doorway behind them. One of the attendants turned to him, eyes wide in his ashen face.

“What is the—”