Thus, the Rangers’ orders were to avoid fighting. They were to bypass German defenders every chance they could and get in their rear. Of course, it didn’t work out that way. It never did. German defenders didn’t want to be bypassed and shot at the Rangers every chance they could. More than a score of Rangers fell dead and wounded while Bakowski’s men were forced to take out places they should have bypassed.
Finally and after several hours, they reached a point behind the German lines where they could move with relative ease and quickness. Bakowski took out his map and the overhead photos of the area. Of course, the terrain resembled nothing on any of them. Constant bombing and shelling had transformed this part of the world into a moonscape.
The Rangers spread out and looked for clues. They’d been told that the gun was likely that the opening in the hill would be on its east side so the hill could shield it from direct fire. Railroad tracks would be the clue. The giant gun was part of a small train. The gun was mounted on railroad tracks which enabled its crew to run it in and out between shellings.
Bakowski was about to order a search in another direction when, like magic, a massive door in the hill slowly opened. The Rangers dropped and hid. A moment later, a crew of German soldiers ran out and lifted the planking that hid the railroad tracks.
Another moment and the giant gun moved ponderously out into the open. The crew was fixated on prepping the gun and not looking for Rangers.
Bakowski grinned. “First platoon take the gun, second and third follow me.”
Close to a hundred Rangers rose up. The first platoon sprayed the gun crew with bullets, killing many Germans before they knew what happened. A few Germans raised their hands in surrender, but most were cut down before anybody realized what they were trying to do.
Bakowski and two platoons raced into the man-made cavern and confronted a score or more astonished and horrified Germans. Only a couple of them were able to fight back and they died quickly. This time, a handful were able to give themselves up.
Dynamite charges were placed around the big gun and the train. Other charges were placed inside the cavern to drop the walls of the cave as well as to explode the many remaining shells.
They left the cave with their prisoners and moved a half mile away. A German staff car was approaching and they raked it with gunfire. Nobody got out.
“Faster,” Bakowski urged but his demolitions men ignored him. Move too fast and they’d blow themselves up and not the target.
Finally, everything was in order. The plunger was rammed home. First, the wheels on one side of the train blew off. A second later, explosions ripped through the cab. Then without the wheels on one side, the train was unbalanced and it slowly tipped over onto its side. The gun ripped away from its mountings and, like a giant toy, rolled a few yards away.
Next, everything in the cavern exploded and the mountain caved in on what the Germans had built so laboriously. The smoke and dust attracted attention from some American planes. They flew low and quickly determined what had happened. One wagged its wings and they all flew off.
A good day’s work, Bakowski thought. If only he hadn’t had to lose so many good men.
Varner found his good friend Schurmer in his office stuffing papers into a briefcase. “The rats are deserting the ship,” Varner said.
“Rats usually survive-” Schurmer smiled “-for the simple reason that they don’t go down with the damned ship. You’ve noticed, I’m sure, that so many OKW staffers are conspicuous by their absence.”
Varner sat down. “I assume they don’t believe that Dietrich’s army will change the course of history.”
“They will alter it but not change it. They may precipitate a bloodbath, but win the war? I think not. However, if the improbable should occur, everyone who is fleeing will return and pretend that nothing happened.”
“Hans, I am worried sick about my family. I cannot get through to them. The farm is going to be inundated by the battle.”
Schurmer looked at him coldly. “How well can I trust you?”
“Implicitly,” he answered, surprised by the question.
“Easy to say, but we will see.” He wrote a number on a scrap of paper and handed it to Varner. “Here.”
“And what is this?”
“What the Americans refer to as a get out of jail card. That is my contact in American intelligence. When you are captured by the Americans, or surrender if you prefer, ask for military intelligence and tell them to contact this person on your behalf. He will not know you but will know me as an agent named Crow and you are Cardinal.”
Varner was stunned. “You are a traitor?”
“You could say Hitler and Himmler were the traitors and I’m just trying to save Germany. You could also say I’m simply trying to save my ass. I don’t care. I’ve been channeling information about the Rhine Wall, unit dispositions, and other bon mots to the Americans for more than a year now.”
“How?”
Shurmer laughed. “Simple. I have access to a good German army radio. I operate it at night when I have to. No clerk is going to deny me. Do you recall when I negotiated with the Americans regarding Paris? Well, it was then that I formalized the arrangement with their intelligence.”
Varner was still stunned. He looked at the paper. “I can’t take this,” he said and returned it.
“Fine. Then look forward to spending the next few years in an American prison camp while they try to figure out if you really were a war criminal and how many Jews you either killed or had killed as a result of your orders, actions, or inactions. Or have you forgotten that you are a general on the OKW staff, and that you actually conspired to hide the fact of Hitler’s death? Oh yes, and weren’t you close to Heisenberg and his blasphemous bomb? Be careful or they might actually think you are a war criminal, in which case you’ll never see the light of day or your family again.”
Schurmer again held out the paper. “With this, you won’t spend more than a couple of weeks in a POW camp. Besides, you did provide me with excellent information that aided the allies.”
“I did?”
Schurmer laughed. “You are such a noble ninny, Ernst. Don’t you remember the day you told me out of the blue that there were no more atomic bombs? That cleared the way for the Americans to cross the Rhine with that little problem taken care of. Now, what is it-prison or freedom to find your family?”
“I thought you were my friend.”
“Ernst, I’m the best friend you ever had.”
Varner nodded and put the piece of paper in his pocket.
It was time, thought Mastny, enough hiding in a barn and skulking. The Allies were nearby. He could hear the bombing and the artillery. He and the two others had to make their move soon or the opportunity would be lost. Once the Allies overran the farm, they would be nothing more than nameless, faceless refugees. They had to get the wealth they knew was hidden in the Mullers’ house ahead of their so-called liberation.
They stuffed oily, greasy rags into several buckets and placed them near the barn door. Mastny lit the fires and waited. Very quickly, black smoke began to billow and find its way out the door. Janis was the least stupid of the two Latvians. He understood the value of money. And pussy.
Janis ran from the barn screaming the obvious-
“Fire, fire!” He reached the bomb shelter’s hatch, pounded on it and continued yelling. A second later, it opened and Eric Muller bounded out followed by his wife. He turned and told the others not to follow them to the barn.
From the barn, Mastny could see the two women were armed and that was part of his plan. As Eric Muller
