Mueller was tired. The train journey had been longer than expected, with frequent stops at signal boxes and stations to ensure they did not steam headlong into any other trains coming in the opposite direction. Finally they arrived at their destination and after what seemed endless security procedures, the German guards had let them into the dockyard where Mueller’s destination lay. They had been directed to a siding and while his men guarded the train, he went to find the man he had been sent to see.
The office was deep inside a concrete building, a necessary precaution against the allied bombing raids that occurred with increasing frequency. A secretary took his name and he waited until she reappeared.
‘General Huber will see you now,’ said the woman when she reappeared.
Mueller walked in and saluted the man behind the desk.
‘Heil Hitler,’ he said emphatically, extending his hand to shoulder height as was customary when greeting a superior officer.
‘Heil Hitler,’ answered the general. ‘Come in and be seated. It is good to see you, Hauptsturmführer Mueller.’
‘Thank you, general. It has been, shall we say, an interesting journey.’
‘I have no doubt it has,’ said the SS officer. ‘Did you manage to keep to the instructions?’
‘Yes, general. Only I know the content of the cargo and there is no one who can link the source to this destination.’
‘What about your men?’
‘They only know we picked up the cargo in Germany and have no idea what the crates contain.’
‘Good,’ said Huber, ‘that avoids us having to silence them.’
‘Is the cargo so important that we would kill our own soldiers to hide its existence?’ asked Mueller.
‘It’s not the existence of the cargo that is a problem but its eventual destination and ultimate use,’ said Huber.
‘Then there is no need for such drastic action,’ said Mueller. ‘Neither they nor I know either the destination or the intended use. They are good men, general, and I would ask that they are released back to their units.’
‘I will arrange it,’ said Huber. ‘So, how about some coffee?’
‘Coffee would be wonderful,’ said Mueller, ‘it has been a long journey on army rations.’
‘When did you last eat?’
‘Yesterday.’
The general picked up the phone on his desk and spoke to the receptionist.
‘Could you arrange some coffee and a plate of sandwiches for the Hauptsturmführer?’ He put the phone down and turned to Mueller. ‘Sandwiches are one of the many things I admire about the British. Quaint but very satisfying, don’t you think?’
Mueller smiled but did not answer. They discussed the war in general until the food came and as they ate, the conversation changed, focusing more on Mueller’s personal circumstances. For the next ten minutes, General Huber asked about Mueller’s family, where he grew up, his military history and more importantly his political views. Mueller filled him in with everything he needed to know. He was an only child and both parents had been killed in an air raid by the allies. He had no other family and was committed to Germany’s cause, having been groomed from a boy in the political doctrine of the Nazi Party. They spent some time discussing his service at the Eastern Front and how he had been evacuated by his men. Finally the general sat back and offered Mueller a cigarette.
‘So,’ said Huber when both were smoking, ‘how do you think this war is going?’
Muller paused. To be defeatist was punishable by execution if you were a civilian and was certainly not acceptable from an SS officer. Huber saw his hesitation and spoke again.
‘Let me help you, Mueller,’ said the general. ‘I have not been back to Berlin for two years so am detached from the politics. I am obviously fed the daily briefings that come from High Command but have lost sight of the level of information people like us need to survive. With the pressure being exerted on Berlin, even these communications are getting rarer by the day. Please speak freely and honestly. You will not be held to account.’
Mueller nodded silently. The general seemed genuine, but it could be a trick to establish his own commitment. Finally he decided to trust the senior officer.
‘Well, sir,’ he said, ‘it seems that the war does not go well. As you know, the allies have crossed the Rhine and are heading toward Berlin. Himmler has been given the responsibility of our defending forces in the north and the Führer has called for every man to defend the fatherland to the death.’
‘Himmler being given an active command is farcical,’ said Huber. ‘That jumped-up gardener has never fired a shot in anger over the course of both wars. Under his guidance, we have no hope.’
Mueller was shocked. Heinrich Himmler was essentially the highest officer in the SS and was responsible for why they had become so powerful and important to Hitler since before the war. The fact that General Huber was criticising their commander could be seen as treason.
‘Do I surprise you, Mueller?’ asked Huber.
‘To be frank, yes,’ said Mueller.
‘Then I take it this is not a concern you share?’
‘On the contrary, general, I have long had concerns about the way Reichsführer Himmler has influenced the Führer’s strategy. What we have needed is the input of military men with experience, not politicians who spend their time drinking and whoring.’
‘And where would we find such men?’ asked Huber.
‘We cannot,’ said Mueller. ‘Once there were many, but most are now long dead in the forests outside Moscow and Stalingrad.’
‘So you feel that the war is lost?’
‘Not yet, but I fear there is little we can do to prevent such a loss. As we speak, the streets of Berlin are being trawled to find men who are capable of bearing arms. Old men in worn shoes now parade in streets that once echoed to the sound of our jackboots. Young boys are given the briefest of training and sent to the front where they will probably be dead within days. It seems it is only a matter of time before Berlin is taken, and the only question in my mind is whether the flag above the Reichstag will be American or Russian.’
‘And how do you feel about this?’ asked Huber.
‘Very little, for there is nothing I can do about it,’ said Mueller. ‘All I can do is carry out my orders as I receive them. Once the war is over, I will have to take my chances like every other man.’
‘And what chances do you think you will have?’
‘The best we can hope for is to be treated as enemy combatants,’ said Mueller. ‘If the Russians reach Berlin before the others, that means a bullet to the head. However, Churchill and Eisenhower know the threat of the Russians and will probably see sense in preventing them doing that. If they allow the Soviets free rein, they may just keep their armies going to the English Channel and beyond. With that in mind, our best bet is for the Americans to prevail. Perhaps that will mean some time in a prisoner-of-war camp, but it will be no worse than what I experienced in the east.’
‘Do you really think they will treat us humanely?’ asked Huber.
‘That badge that you wear so proudly is despised right across the world. Himmler’s insanity with the peoples of Poland and the Jews of Europe has branded us all with the taint of his madness. They won’t take into consideration the fact that you fought alongside brave men, combating the genuine threat from the east. They won’t see you as a soldier, Mueller, to them that uniform will say one thing. Nazi SS filth to be put down like a rabid dog.’
‘Then I will deal with that as it arises.’ said Mueller.
Huber stood and walked to a cabinet. He picked up a bottle and poured two glasses of schnapps. As he poured he continued talking.
‘So,’ he said, ‘we are agreed that the war is coming to a close, and not in a good way. That is a great shame, Mueller. When we started this great adventure, I embraced it with all my heart and marched proudly to my postings across Europe.’
‘As did we all,’ said Mueller as Huber him the drink.
‘The thing is, Mueller,’ said Huber, ‘they have long known that this war is lost.’
‘Who?’ asked Mueller.
‘The High Command,’ said Huber. ‘Yes, Hitler hangs on to the thought that we may turn it around in the final few months, but he and his staff are not stupid. They have made arrangements for this sort of scenario, very comprehensive arrangements in fact.’
‘What arrangements?’ asked Mueller.
‘All in good time,’ said Huber. ‘The thing is, for the last few months we have been preparing for life after the war. There is a place where people like us can be safe, even from the likes of the Russians.’
‘Where is this place?’
‘It is very far from here,’ said Huber, ‘and when this is all over, I will be seeing out my days alongside most of the High Command in relative luxury. But we will not hide away from our destiny like frightened mice, Mueller. Yes, we will lick our wounds, but we will recover. We will use what we have learned over these past few years and drive our technology forward until it is time to reappear once more. The thing is, there is also an opportunity to be joined by those who share our values, those who have proved their loyalty and deserve the chance to reap the reward for their commitment. People who can keep the core fire alive until the day when we can face the world again with our heads held high. People like you, Mueller.’
Mueller remained silent, knowing the explanation would follow.
‘I have a proposition for you,’ continued Huber. ‘Your record is exemplary, you have no ties and your unit was wiped out on the Eastern Front. From what I can see, you have no reason whatsoever to return to Berlin, and I will need men like you to watch my back in this new world. People who I can trust yet have the common sense to see past the bullshit often spewed in our direction. Come with us, Mueller; accept this phase of our life is now over and the new phase will soon begin. It means you will probably never see the fatherland again, but that is a small price to pay.’
Mueller stared at the general. He had indeed been concerned about how he was going to survive the war, and this man was offering a way out.
‘I take it you are referring to South America?’ he said.
‘I admit we do have safe areas in many of those countries,’ said Huber, ‘and there are many who have already taken that route. Many more will follow, but I am talking about somewhere else entirely, somewhere where the post-war investigators will never think of looking.’
‘Where is this place?’ asked Mueller.
‘I am not at liberty to tell you,’ said Huber, ‘at least not yet. When we are aboard the vessel that will take us there, all will be revealed. Until that time, you will have to trust me.’
Mueller weighed up the options. If he stayed his future was bleak at best, but if he went, he was committing to the unknown. He knew immediately that there was only one possible answer.
‘I agree,’ he said. ‘I will go with you.’
‘Excellent,’ said Huber and refilled the glasses.
‘Here’s to us, Hauptsturmführer Mueller,’ he said, ‘to us and the beginning of the Fourth Reich. Heil Hitler.’
‘Heil Hitler,’ answered Mueller, and downed his drink in one.