Echo of the Reich Read Free

moment wondered if that would have been a better way to transport
Die Glocke
, but then shook his head. It would have meant transferring the device from the truck onto one of the railway carriages, and then repeating the process in reverse at the other end of the journey, and all of that would have taken time. Time which he really didn’t have.
    Only when he was completely satisfied did Wolf climbinto his staff car and lead the small convoy of three trucks containing his men, the device they had extracted from the testing chamber, and those three scientists whose work, knowledge and ability was of the highest caliber and who were vital for the eventual success of the project.
    At Bystzyca Klodzka airfield, which lay in a valley within the Eulenbirge Mountains, to the west of Opole, the flight crew had already removed the tarpaulins that had concealed the huge six-engined Junkers Ju-390. They’d carried out the necessary preflight checks on the aircraft and the rear cargo door was wide-open, waiting for loading to begin.
    The device was heavy, bulky, and awkward to handle because of its shape, and maneuvering it inside the relatively confined space of the fuselage was difficult. But eventually they got it secured in place, and Wolf then ordered the three scientists to climb on board the aircraft. The expressions on their faces reflected their conflicting emotions. They’d expected to be evacuated from the area, simply because of the importance of their work to the Reich and the vital knowledge they possessed, but what had happened at the mine clearly showed that there was more than one way for their masters to ensure that they kept their mouths shut.
    When they had taken their seats in the cabin, Kurt Debus—the only one of the three with any military training—leaned across to Elizabeth Adler, who was visibly shaking.
    “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “If they were going to kill us, they’d have done it back at the mine. We’re safe, because we’re too important to Hitler.”
    “Where are they taking us?” Herman Obeth asked. “Not Berlin, surely?”
    “I’ve no idea, but somewhere out of the Fatherland, I think we can be sure of that. What we’ve achieved can still change the course of the war. We just need a little more time to perfect it.”
    “I hope you’re right,” Adler replied, her voice quivering with emotion. “I really hope you’re right.”
    Hauptsturmführer
Wolf was the last to take his seat, and only did so after carrying out a final check that nothing had been left in any of the vehicles that might compromise the project.
    One of the engines on the port wing of the Junkers spluttered into life, then settled down to a steady reassuring roar. Then the second engine started, and the third, and in less than a minute the flight deck crew had all six running. The Junkers, which had been painted light blue and illegally wore the markings of the Swedish Air Force—a rudimentary disguise that might make an enemy pilot pause before opening fire with his cannon—began to move, and the massive aircraft started to taxi across the short distance to the end of the runway.
    Moments later, the pilot pushed the throttles fully forward and the huge aircraft began gathering speed. It lifted into the darkening sky and swung around toward the west.
    It’s reasonable to assume that the paint job was a success, because no units of either the Russian forces or the Western Allies reported seeing a Swedish aircraft at any time that day or evening. They were too busy watching out for enemy aircraft, and it seems likely that the Junkers managedsimply to slip through the front lines, perhaps seen but certainly not noticed.
    The Junkers’ ultimate destination was never recorded in any of the surviving documentation, and it’s quite possible that the flight was so highly classified by the Nazis that no details of it were ever committed to paper.
    After the war, various places were suggested as the location of the