“This is more comprehensive than the official list.”
“I have my orders, although sometimes I don’t understand them… but I felt that I would share this with you… on the basis of it remaining between us.”
Both the Steyns were listed as being removed to the USSR by officers of ‘Osoaviakhim’.
Of greater interest in so many ways was the heading under which they were placed.
‘Nuclear research and weapons section – VNIIEF.’
“VNIIEF… Merde.”
The VNIIEF, the acronym for the All-Union Scientific Research Institute of Experimental Physics, was a flag for any intelligence officer, although so little was known about its abilities and progress.
“I think you’ll agree that this information makes the understanding of Knocke’s message all the more important.”
“I agree, Reinhard… but if I’m not supposed to know about it, how would I know whom to ask?”
“Have you heard of Farm Hall?”
“No.”
“It’s in England… a place called Godmanchester… it’s where a number of German scientists were kept and interrogated after the last war.”
“Damn… yes… I’ve heard of it, yes.”
De Walle offered up his pack, which Gehlen declined.
The Belgian lit a cigarette, all the while concentrating heavily on the espionage goldmine to which he was slowly becoming privy.
“One of my agents was within that process… an interpreter and interrogator… he became friends with a number of those imprisoned there.”
“And that enduring friendship will enable him to speak to them… quietly… without anything official.”
“I think that would be wise, Georges.”
“Good… but again I see this… err… reluctance to do things officially… which I simply don’t understand. What is the problem, Reinhard?”
“I’m being excluded from matters within my own sphere. My men are either being moved from their positions to where they can no longer keep me informed or, in some cases, being removed in accidents.”
“Mon Dieu.”
“Do you have anyone in a position who might be able to help me understand what is going on within my own government?”
Coming from Germany’s spymaster, that was a huge confession of his own weakened position.
De Walle weighed his answer carefully, just in case it was a play by the German. Trust only goes so far in the espionage game.
“I will carefully find out, Reinhard.”
“Thank you. But remember this name. Diels. Don’t trust him… ever. Now, I will go. As soon as I get anything on the note from my man, I’ll come and see you personally.”
They rose and shook hands.
“And I’ll let you know if I can find out anything about what is going on in Germany.”
Strauch opened the door and checked around before allowing the two senior men to leave.
1050 hrs, Tuesday, 5th November 1946, Headquarters of Camerone Division, Kuttenberg, Bohemia, Czechoslovakia.
The door opened and the morning sunshine flooded the room.
“Good morning, mon Général.”
”Good morning, Colonel Haefali. Are the men assembling on the field?”
“Yes, they are, Sir.”
Camerone’s base area didn’t have a defined parade square, but a vast and level grass field served just as well, and it was here that Knocke had dictated that those who wished to leave Camerone should assemble.
“Your car is ready, Sir.”
Knocke rose and opened the curtains, completing the illumination of the room, something he had not allowed until the moment of truth was upon him, preferring the relative darkness to insulate him against what was to come.
The previous afternoon and evening he had travelled through his units and spoken with the men, shaking hands, accepting a cigarette or a coffee, and discussing the concerns that were brought on by the French offer of a return.
As men sought his view, he focussed on each man in turn, advising that they should do what was right and honourable for themselves.
When pressed, as he always was, he confirmed his intent to remain in the Legion but each time he advised that the enquirer should look to his own needs and desires and not be influenced by others.
He declined to enquire as to their thoughts, and always stopped men who pledged their loyalty to him, constantly reminding his soldiers that their loyalty was owed to no one man.
This morning he had elected to dress in his preferred formal uniform of a dark blue French tunic, blue waist sash, black trousers, German combat boots, and gaiters.
As was the case for all men in the Legion Corps, the blue and red divisional armband graced his left sleeve and rank markings were carried on the collar.
The whole uniform was replete with the medals awarded a courageous man, as ever, the Mérite over the top of the Knight’s Cross.
Carrying his black officer’s kepi under his arm, Knocke strode out of the room.
“Come on then, Albrecht. Let’s see what we have left.”
Haefali kept his own counsel on that, for he had just come from the field and knew what lay in store for his commander.
The Kfz 71, Knocke’s recently acquired Krupp vehicle, made the short trip to the parade field in quick time, although the sight of men drawn up in parade order around the area could not be avoided from distance.
With a heavy heart, Knocke understood that the vast majority of Camerone was on the field in front of him; nearly five thousand men, give or take those on leave, in sickbay, or on important duties elsewhere.
They would all be given their opportunity later.
But for now…
“Mein Gott, Albrecht.”
Haefali shook his head.
“As you say, mon Général.”
The Krupp drove through a gap in the ranks and onto the centre of the field, where eighteen men were drawn up in three lines of six.
Knocke was taken aback, and then immediately understood, a faint reaction that Haefali noticed, which finally allowed him to smile.
“Yes, mon Général. Eighteen… just eighteen.”
The Krupp came to a halt and Haefali stepped out first.
“Parade… Parade… atten… tion!”
Thousands of feet stamped into the attention position.
Haefali swept a magnificent salute in his commander’s direction, which was returned in kind by a still shocked Knocke.
“These men wish to leave and rejoin the German Army, mon Général.”
Knocke nodded and moved forward, speaking to the eighteen men as a group, but not so the parade could hear.
“Your decision is honourable, Kameraden. Report to the duty officer’s hut, where you can complete the administration. There will be transport arranged to take you to the nearest German army facility. Thank you for your service… and for your comradeship. I wish you all well. You are dismissed.”
Haefali stepped in.
“Section… right turn.”
“By the front, double… march!”
Knocke threw up a salute as the men marched off, rather than dismiss into an aimless walk in front of their former commander.
Knocke and Haefali watched them depart, silently, one wondering what would happen next, one knowing only too well.
“Mon Général, if you will indulge me please?”
Knocke could only nod.
Haefali strode forward, giving himself some space from his commander.
His voice lifted across the massed ranks.
“Parade… parade… Général salute… present… arms!”
In the way that martial sights can bring the full range of emotions, the sight and sound of five thousand men offering their tribute to Knocke left a lump in his throat.