Michael Ridpath - Shadows of War

‘You are probably right.’

‘So I am happy to kill and be killed in battle. Not happy, so much as willing. But the horrific killing I saw had nothing to do with battle.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Afterwards we marched past a POW camp guarded by the SS. Except it wasn’t really a camp, and the POWs were not really prisoners of war. It was a field outside a village with a couple of hundred Poles inside it, soldiers but also women and children. The SS had set up machine guns around the perimeter of the field. There were about fifty bodies lying in the perimeter where they had been shot — we heard later most of them had been trying to relieve themselves. We took over the camp from the SS; it turned out the prisoners had been given no food or water for days. Our major has filed a report and we’ll see what happens. But the whole thing made me feel bad, dirty even. It was as if what those SS men did betrayed the bravery of our own comrades who had died by the River Bzura.’

‘That’s why Hitler has to go,’ said Theo.

Dieter grunted. They passed beneath the Brandenburg Gate and crossed the road into the Tiergarten. A new thoroughfare had been bulldozed through the park, at the end of which was the recently relocated Siegessäule victory statue, which Berliners claimed looked like a giant asparagus. The light was fading.

‘So you are on the western front now?’ Theo asked.

‘Yes. I’ve been made ADC to General Guderian. Do you know him?’

‘I’ve never met him, but I’ve read Achtung Panzer! ’ said Theo. ‘He’s XIX Corps commander in Army Group A, isn’t he?’ Theo remembered the ‘cowhide’ relief map at Zossen and his conversation with Major Liss.

‘You are well informed.’

‘I am,’ Theo admitted. ‘How did you manage that?’

‘I mended his wireless in Poland; all that messing around with electronics when I was a boy finally paid off. Guderian pulled up next to our unit in his command vehicle swearing blue murder. I fixed the set and we got talking about radios. He believes reliable wireless communications are what allow a general to lead panzers from the front and keep the initiative in battle. He seemed to like me and arranged the transfer. Cousin Paul helped — Guderian reports to him.’

‘Cousin Paul’ was General of Cavalry Paul von Kleist, their mother’s cousin, and the commander of Panzer Group Kleist of which XIX Corps was a part. When it came to the Wehrmacht the Hertenbergs were well connected.

‘What’s Guderian like?’

‘Impressive. If you’ve read his book you’ll know he is a great believer in the blitzkrieg. Mobility, concentration, seizing the initiative and keeping it.’

‘Army Group A’s role is to protect the flank of Army Group B in the Ardennes, as Army Group B drives through Belgium towards the Channel. So no blitzkrieg for General Guderian.’

‘That’s right,’ said Dieter. ‘And Guderian doesn’t like that. He thinks we should strike in the Ardennes, with him in the vanguard, of course. He’s trying to persuade General Manstein, who in turn needs to persuade the general staff and ultimately the Führer.’

‘Your chief is absolutely right,’ said Theo. ‘That section of the line is defended by the French 2 ndArmy under General Huntziger. They are a bunch of overweight under-trained reservists whose defensive preparations are poor. The French think the Ardennes is impassable to modern tanks; it’s the weakest point in the line.’

‘How do you know this, Theo? Is this what you are doing for the Abwehr?’

‘I know it,’ said Theo. ‘And so does OKW, although I am not sure yet whether they have drawn the correct conclusions. Your General Guderian has the right idea. The strongest French forces and the BEF are lined up on the Belgian frontier to move north and meet Army Group B in Flanders. Army Group A should make the breakthrough through the Ardennes.’

‘I’ll tell him,’ said Dieter.

‘Unofficially.’

Dieter stopped. ‘By the way, I know this might sound crazy, but I think that a man is following us. In the brown overcoat on the other side of the road.’

‘I know,’ said Theo. ‘I’ve seen him.’

‘He’s not a British spy, is he?’

‘Gestapo,’ said Theo. ‘Almost certainly.’

‘So the Gestapo spies on its own spies?’

‘It would seem so,’ said Theo. ‘Don’t worry. There is nothing suspicious in me meeting my brother.’ Though in truth Theo was worried. The Abwehr had many officers and the Gestapo couldn’t follow them all. Why Theo? Did it have something to do with Conrad and the capture of the British agents? Or were the Gestapo finally getting to grips with the army officers who opposed Hitler, just when it seemed the Nazis no longer had anything to fear from them?

They were at the edge of the woods in the Tiergarten when Dieter stopped. ‘I should head off to the station now. I’m glad I got to see you, even if you can’t make it home.’

‘Me too,’ said Theo. ‘Give my love to everyone.’ He embraced his brother and turned through the woods towards Abwehr headquarters in the Tirpitzufer.

He had only gone a few yards when an unpleasant thought struck him. Perhaps he would never see Dieter again. Theo had always looked after his little brother. In some ways Dieter’s naive patriotism irritated him; Theo felt it was his job to keep Dieter away from danger. Yet for all Theo’s worldly experience, Dieter had actually fought for his country and Theo hadn’t, at least not yet.

In a few weeks or months, Dieter would be fighting his way through Luxembourg and Belgium, and Theo wouldn’t be there to protect him.

Theo could cope with Dieter fighting for his country. He just prayed that his little brother wouldn’t die for it.

Police Headquarters, The Hague, 22 November

Conrad was apprehensive about meeting Theo in Holland. Just before leaving England he had received a brief cable from Denmark confirming that Theo would see him in Leiden. At least Theo hadn’t ducked it, which Conrad had half expected him to. On the one hand, Conrad knew he had to confront him. On the other, if Theo really had killed Millie, then he would have no compunction in killing Conrad too. Theo his friend would become Theo his killer. Unthinkable. But Conrad knew he had better think it.

It was a risk Conrad just had to take.

But first he wanted to find out what he could from the Dutch authorities. The man from the British Embassy in The Hague was much less friendly to Conrad than he had been when he had rescued Conrad from his Dutch inquisitors after Venlo. Conrad and his family were trouble. But despite his coolness, the official was still polite and efficient, and had arranged an appointment with the Dutch police inspector who was in charge of the murder investigation, and who might have the authority to start the process of releasing Millie’s body for repatriation to England.

Police headquarters was a suitably solid-looking building not far from the embassy, in Alexanderplein. Conrad was kept waiting for twenty minutes before he was shown into a small office, which reeked of tobacco smoke. The policeman slumped behind his desk was about fifty, short and flabby, with thick tousled iron-grey hair. He was dressed in a baggy suit. He was smoking a cigarette and two full ashtrays scattered ash like post-eruption volcanic craters amid the jumble of files on his desktop.

Conrad was taken aback. The officials he had come across in Holland so far, while not quite Teutonic, had tended to be clean, smart and efficient.

‘Do you speak German?’ he asked the policeman in that language.

The man didn’t get up, but examined Conrad through narrowed eyes. ‘Why would I speak German to an Englishman?’ he said in English, with a heavy Dutch accent. ‘Take a seat.’