“Are you sure? Are you really sure?”
“Yes, Herr Kanzler. There’s no Nibelungen… no other choice. You must make other arrangements.”
“Mein Gott, Horst.”
“I wish it was otherwise, Herr Kanzler, but I could not ensure the production went ahead.”
“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll make alternative arrangements immediately. Thank you, Horst.”
“Herr Kanzler.”
Speer sat staring at the silent handset, the shock of the message washing back and forth from his brain to his very soul.
He clicked the cradle twice and requested another line.
“Guderian.”
“Feldmarschal, Kanzler Speer. I have to inform you that there will be no Nibelungen at the Berlin Opera House this year.”
“What?”
“There it is. Unfortunate, but we must make other arrangements.”
“How? Why?… I mean…”
“It’s just the way it is, Herr Feldmarschal. Horst just contacted me with the news.”
“And you have accepted this, Herr Kanzler?”
“I’ve no choice, Herr Feldmarschal.”
“So, do we go to the alternative immediately?”
“We’ll do it at the first rescheduled performance.”
“The first?”
“Yes, the first.”
“Zu befehl, Herr Kanzler. If you’ll excuse me then.”
“Good luck, Herr Feldmarschal.”
Speer replaced the receiver and sat looking at his hands.
They trembled noticeably, the enormity of the course upon which he had set his country just apparent.
Although the reasons behind the early activation of Undenkbar were still unclear, he had just ordered Guderian to instigate the plan at the first opportunity, which would be 0200hrs… tomorrow.
Guderian replaced the receiver and composed himself, trying to work out what could have possibly happened to initiate Undenkbar ahead of schedule.
His brain railed against it all, but it also strived to bring order to his thoughts.
‘Whatever has started this is immaterial… for later debate… now you must act, Erich!’
He picked up the phone again.
“I want the duty signals officer here now.”
Yes, Herr Feldmarschal. General Patton is still waiting in the lobby, Sir.”
‘Verdamnt… verdamnt… forgot about him…’
“Please give him my apologies and ask him to come in.”
Guderian quickly wrote his orders for the Signals Officer, anticipating it would be he who arrived first.
It was instead George Patton, who was unhappy at being kept waiting, especially as the ‘Goddamned Krauts’ had asked for him specifically.
Guderian rose and shook his contemporary’s hand.
“My apologies, Herr General, but there have been some items that simply wouldn’t wait. I have one more to complete and then we can travel together to the exercise site.”
“Thank you, Fieldmarshal.”
Guderian completed the simple but monumental order, complete with the unique distribution code group and finished as the door resounded to an urgent knocking.
“Come!”
The Signals Officer strode in to receive his instructions.
Guderian handed him a sealed envelope.
‘Most immediate. Priority.’
The words were bold and unmistakeable.
“Zu befehl, Herr Feldmarschal.”
“Danke, Oberst.”
The door closed and Guderian felt the burden of the necessities of high command quickly replaced by the doubts and fears that status brought, especially when millions of lives are at stake.
“Now, Herr General. Some coffee, or shall we proceed?”
Patton elected to get out on the road as quickly as possible, and they headed off together to observe the latest exercises near Berlin.
1109 hrs, Friday, 14th March 1947, Christopherusschule, Scharmede, Germany.
The morning playtime was in full swing and the children, mainly those of good German catholic parentage, were deep into their recreations of family scenes with dolls and teddy bears, football matches, or storytelling about what their sister had got up to with her boyfriend the night before.
Adolpha and Roderika Ottwitz were twin sisters and, as teachers at the Catholic School, had pulled playground duty together whilst the other staff had a break from the screaming hordes.
They were sisters in more ways than one, as both had committed to be brides of Christ some years beforehand.
Young Poppelmeyer had earned his third rebuke of the session and would probably be destined for the father’s office after any more misbehaviour.
The early morning sun drew their eyes as it burst forth from behind the clouds.
And then something else drew their gaze, something awful… something that had no place in God’s world.
The mechanism was quite simple.
The initiating device was a modest but highly efficient altitude barometer that decided that it was now at the pre-set height and sent a current through its wiring to start three processes.
The first burst initiated the destruction of two phials of acid, secured against some vital pipework joints.
The second initiated a timing mechanism that started a countdown to another sequence.
The acid ate through the pipe joints and the internal pressure of the fuel system ensured the destruction was complete.
Aviation fuel started to mist into the void and then flowed as a liquid as the joints’ failures were completed.
The loss of engine power was quickly noted and the pilots tried to respond.
The second timing sequence fired a small explosive line charge that perforated the skin of the aircraft, allowing fuel vapours to escape.
Five seconds later the white phosphorous charge burst into life providing the fuel with the perfect ignition source.
The resultant explosion partially severed the port wing inboard of engine number two, the airflow, and falling motion of the aircraft completing the job.
The port wing parted company with the rest of the aircraft and, robbed of any ability to fly, the blazing fuselage and remaining wing dropped from the sky, whirling like a sycamore seed, leaving a spiral of smoke and flame as the aviation spirit fuelled a fire that consumed everything in its path.
There were no survivors.
German forces in the area rushed to the burning wreckage and attempted to rescue as many of the children from Christopherusschule as they could, both living and dead.
There were far more of the latter.
The local feuerwehr was overwhelmed and it was only the presence of a German military medical unit that saved the lives of many wounded who had been rescued but would have died uncared for.
Two firefighters were killed when the remains of the main school building collapsed on them, trapping them under wood and rubble to be burned alive when the fuel-fed fire spread further.
The report went out from Scharmede and was quickly passed on, coinciding with those reports from radar stations monitoring air traffic, which had all noted the disappearance of one aircraft.
At Rhein-Main Airbase in Frankfurt, the news of the missing aircraft arrived and was treated with a certain amount of acceptance, as air crashes were still reasonably regular occurrences.
It was not until further details started to arrive that it was realised that a disaster had befallen the Allied community, one that was not totally understood until the association between the personnel listed on the RAF flight were married with the last minute additions.