The Haigerloch Project

File:

Letter of 24/2/45 A.-Z.: Bb. No. 1523/45 g

Regarding: Emergency Program, Power Yield Projects.

I.

To accomplish the final development of “Power Yield from Atomic Action” full protection is imperative. The leading work sites are:

Work Group KWI (for Physics and Chemistry) (Berlin, Heidelberg, Hechingen and Tailfingen)

“

the authorities on Stadtilm, Haigerloch and Munich

“

Prof. Harteck (Inst. for Physical Chemistry, Hamburg, Celle and Anschütz & Co.)

“

Prof. Kirchner — Prof. Riezler (Phys. Inst. Cologne, intermed. sta. Garmish-Partenkirchen)

“

Phys. Inst. Vienna (Prof. Stetter)

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Radiation Protection and Dosimetry (PTR and KWI Berlin-Buch.)

Project SH 200 (esp. I.G. and Bamag-Meguin)

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Special Metal Processing (Auer, Degussa)

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Cyclotron (KWI Heidelberg, Siemens-Halske) (Note: Material requirements covered, though only final assembly)

“

Electron Centrifuge (conducted in coaction)

These projects shall be afforded the full power, material and personnel protection of the Führer Emergency Program according to the Führer Order of 23 hours, 31/1/45.

/s/ Walther Gerlach

MAP

PROLOGUE

Fear clamped an icy vise on every nerve end in his body, threatening to numb his fingers as he tapped the worn Morse key— QSP… QSP… QSP…

He listened….

His earphones were filled only with static. There was no acknowledgment.

Urgently his fingers resumed QSP… QSP… QSP…

His eyes roamed the dark cellar room. His self-imposed prison.

His — crypt?

He knew he had been on the air too long. Any moment he would hear the motor of the monitor truck grind to a halt outside.

QSP… QSP… QSP…

Still no contact.

He clamped his jaws tight.

He could wait no longer. He had to take a chance. Perhaps they could read him — even though he could not read them. He'd send his message. Blind.

And hope…

Hurriedly he started his transmission. Call letters. Identification. Message in cipher. His fingers flew on the key. Groups of five letters…

IDUGS HBAFN RTJNV…

Finished. Almost finished…

Suddenly he stopped.

He tore the earphones from his head.

Too late.

He could hear the rifle butts battering the wooden door at the top of the stairs.

The dead-bolt would not hold for long….

Automatically he finished the last letter group of his message. He signed off—

EULE.

Owl.

A cry for deliverance…

He struck a large wooden match and held his hurriedly scrawled message to the flame. His hands shook. He let the paper flare until it singed his fingers, then let it drop to the cement floor next to his stool.

He watched it writhe into a black curl before grinding it to ashes with his foot.

He heard the hobnailed boots pound down the stairs.

He stood up. Leadenly.

He turned.

He knew what he would see.

There were two of them. Hard-faced. Jet-black uniforms. On the left sleeves the blood-red armbands with the angular black swastikas in their white circles. On the black caps the gleaming death-head emblems of the SS…

But his eyes were inexorably drawn to the muzzles of the two Schmeisser submachine guns pointed directly at his gut.

He knew he was dead.

He only hoped death would come quickly.

He also knew it would not.

Unless—

Suddenly, with a cry of despair, he lunged at one of the SS men….

He saw the all-devouring muzzle of the submachine gun jerk up, and—

PART I The Month of 28 Feb 1945—28 Mar 1945

1

He had no doubt how it would turn out, and it annoyed the hell out of him. Still, he couldn't bring himself to capitulate without at least a show of rebellion. Any damned fish worth netting ought to do some struggling before being reeled in.

He glared at his commanding officer.

“Tell G-2 to shove it,” he said angrily.