David Perkins: Hitler's Astrologer

“So nice to see you.” It was Lady Hightower’s voice.

“What?” The Admiral was confused. He could not see her clearly and did not notice her entering the room.

“I’m going to visit your son.”

“You know?”

“Yes, we wanted to thank-you for allowing two old timers to have a sense of purpose in life again.” The voice seemed to come from the light, which was now slowly moving towards the window.

“But where are you going?”

“We’ll meet again when this is all over.” The light then disappeared.

“Lady Hightower! Lady Hightower !”

Commander McMorrison opened the door. “Admiral! Is everything alright?”

Admiral Payne looked at the window, then the door the McMorrison entered.

“Commander, did Lady Hightower come by my office today?”

“No sir.”

The Admiral began looking around his office.

“Admiral, are you sure everything is alright? Some coffee or tea, perhaps?”

“No, no thank-you.” The Admiral thought for a moment. “Please call Lady Hightower, I have a question for her.

The Commander left and the Admiral turned on the radio. His empty room now vibrated with Glenn Miller. After a few other dance songs the news came on. Rome had been captured.

“Admiral?” Commander McMorrison stuck his head through the door but did not enter. He seemed apprehensive.

“Yes?”

“I called the Lady, but their phone was out.” The Commander swallowed. “I asked communications to run a check and they said the entire EW- 5 section was out.”

“Out?”

“Yes, sir. I then asked general services about the lines being out in that area and…”

Payne could see from the pause the Commander needed to draw some extra energy to finish his statement.

“…and they said a V-1 buzz bomb made a direct hit on Everton Manor around thirty minutes ago.

“My god!”

“I’m sorry, Lord Everton and Lady Hightower are dead, sir.”

“Thank God you decided to come down this road!” The man said as he got into the car with his two heavy bags. “I’ve been stranded by the road for over four hours!”

Doesn’t the sixty-five buses service this road? Maxi asked as he started off.

“It’s supposed to, but it passed me by if it did come!”

Maxi laughed. Humor was scarce in Germany these days, yet this man retained his fairly well despite Germany’s and his misfortunes. “Where are you trying to get to, friend?”

“Rüdersdorf.” The old man said. “That is, if it is still there!”

“Now why would the Americans and British want to bomb a nice quiet town like Rüdersdorf?”

“I wouldn’t know why, but they do.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m not. We’ve been hit three times this month. All we have there are smelters for rocks!”

“Well, maybe they think all those smoke stacks you have there are factories.”

“Funny, that’s exactly what our Bettina says.”

“Bettina?” A charge went through Maxi when he heard the name. He hadn’t heard it pronounced in over two years, but hearing it resurfaced the intense love he felt for her.

“Yea, a nice girl staying with us. She has been…” The old man stopped to watch a shiny silver plane roar overhead at tree top level, and a few seconds later followed by two green and tan ME-109’s chasing it.

“What was that?” Maxi asked. “That wasn’t a bomber!”

“That’s those new American 47’s, rather fast for such a fat plane, and rugged too. I saw two FW’s have at least a hundred hits on one those American fighters and it never did go down.” The old man looked around the sky. If the 47’s are here that means the bombers will soon be here too.” The old man’s eyes never left the sky. “Would you mind driving, let’s say, as fast as you can now? I’d hate to be out in the open when the bombers come. You can use our shelter.”

Maxi floored his taxi and began scanning the horizon as well. In just over fifteen minutes they were in Rüdersdorf and in front of the old man’s house.

“Marcus Diehl is my name,” the old man said, “welcome to my house.”

The heavy rumble of several hundred B-17’s could be heard just beyond the horizon. Both men made haste inside the house to the kitchen in the back and opened the door to the cellar.

“Bunny! Bettina! Are you down here?”

“Yes. Hurry, Marcus!”

Marcus and Maxi filed down the stairs.

“Maxi!”

Maxi looked in the corner. It was Bettina Meyer.

“Bettina! What are you doing here?”

“You two know each other?”

“Why, yes. I would take Maxi’s taxi home when I worked at the Ministry.”

Bettina gave a stern look to Maxi as if to not say anything more, a look that Maxi understood. Bettina then did all of the talking so Maxi could understand her situation. Lt. Kreiderman had taken Bettina to his parent’s house for safe keeping from Goebbels. When they and their house were destroyed in a bombing raid, the Diehl family across town took her in. Lt. Kreiderman assumed Bettina was in the house with his parents when they were killed; being the house was completely destroyed and there was no sign of Bettina.

Marcus then told the story of how he captured a P-51 pilot who had bailed out. “Paperwork, interviews, questioning, and that’s what they made me do! Next time I’m going to just let the Ami go… not going through that again!”

After the air raid, Bettina and Maxi had a chance to talk in private. Bettina learned of Otto’s death in the escape attempt, and Bettina learned about her family.

“…and my mother?”

“They took her away nearly nine months ago…”

Lt. Kreiderman had lied when he told Bettina her family would be safe. After several hours of talking and piecing together what each had discovered, both had a better understanding as to the true nature of the crumbling Nazi state. Bettina and Maxi both realized there was nothing in Berlin to go back to, and Germany was not a place to be either. Bettina had a relative in Czechoslovakia who lived out in the mountains far from any town or city. They both felt this would be the safest place to go. With three quarters of a tank of gas, the clothes on their backs and just under 300 Reichmarks, both made their way south to freedom and a new life… together.

“Hurry up there!” Shouted Schellenberg while standing on the docks directing the assortment of Russian and Polish prisoners who were struggling with the heavy wooden crates onto the ramp that led to U-437.

Kriederman and Schiller, now both in major’s uniforms, were on deck of he U-437 with Captain Martin Pressler.

“They have quite a blockade from Skagden to Göteborg, so we’ll try to cross there after 2:00 am, the Moon will be down after then so we won’t get lit up.”

“Can’t we pass that area submerged?” Schiller asked.

“I don’t want to take any chances. They got Michael Stöver’s boat two nights ago… he was submerged… they must be using magic.”

Schellenberg joined the three men on deck. “Is all the gold loaded?”

“Every case.” Kriederman answered.

The fourth man in this enterprise, Olaf Janke, the Painted Man, popped out from a hatch below. “Ah, we’re all here and we’re all ready! Let’s depart!”

The four had been classmates in Gestapo school and were known as the “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse” since they were judged the best example bringing Conquest, War, Famine, and Death to friend and foe alike. All four ended up stationed in Stettin, and they were not going to fight to the end as Hitler had ordered.