6

The platoons of Totenkopf elite tiptoed through the darkness. An order was whispered. The steel-helmeted guards stopped. Bayonets were attached. The wait began. The sleet tapered off. A second whispered order was passed along. Rifles were raised to hip level. The stop watch moved to 05, 04, 02 … Floodlights sparked on. Barbed-wire gates were pulled open. The platoons ran double-time into the compound and ringed the roll-call area. The lights in barracks S15 through S21 went on. Padlocks were opened. Kapos burst through the doors. Prisoners were roused, pulled, tugged, kicked.

The perimeter of poised weapons began filling with dazed shivering inmates. No overclothing had been allowed. No personal effects other than crude eating cups and spoons had been permitted.

Selection began. Eight hundred of the fifteen hundred prisoners were picked. They formed into ranks of four.

Webber and his aides meandered through the ragged contingent. Faces were studied, clothes examined, notes taken. Then the officers returned to their armada of cars and drove off.

The sleet began again. A Totenkopf captain raised his arm. The column began marching out of Kreisberg.

Steam gathered force. Drive shafts locked. Engine wheels skidded and sparked along the siding rails. Passenger wagons banged into one another. The train came to a stop. The regiments debarked, checked their battle equipment and clambered onto waiting trucks. By 0900 hours they had reached Zone B. Deployment began.

At 0926 hours a seven-man detachment approached the farmhouse.

“How many volunteer laborers do you have?” a captain demanded.

“Five,” answered the nervous farmer.

“How many bonded laborers?”

“Twelve.”

“Are there other employees?”

“The cook, only the cook.”

“How many in your family?”

“Three, just three. My daughter, my wife and myself. The cook is a third cousin, though. I suppose you could count her. She’s paid, you know. Our son is in the Army. He is a hero. He has two medals. I have them upstairs. I can show them to you. He has been wounded three times. Wait, I’ll get the medals.”

“By order of the Gauleiter, this farm and all on it are hereby placed in a state of quarantine.”

“What—what does that mean?”

“Neither you, your family nor your laborers are permitted to leave your living quarters unless notified.”

“But—but what have I done?”

“In addition, you will quarter six of my men. Compensation will be paid.”

“The farmwork? The animals? The fields? What will happen to them if we can’t go out?”

“My men will allow what they feel is necessary. Do you own a telephone?”

“Yes. It’s in the kitchen.”

“It will be disconnected.”

“But why? What have I done?”

“As to supplies, foodstuffs and other essentials, you will provide lists and money. We will see that they are purchased.”

“How long will this go on?”

“Heil Hitler!”

By dusk eighty per cent of Zone B was secure. By midnight the job was complete. Radio communication was established with Zones A, C and D. The first phase of the Webber Proposition had been accomplished on schedule.