Upfall

Well, it was inevitable. The Reichsminister would learn of the disaster soon enough if Heydrich didn't tell him. Better to take the bit now. Heydrich put the call through to Berlin. At least, he thought, I can ruin Himmler's dinner too.

By the wee hours of the next morning, May 27, Heydrich had weathered his confrontation with Himmler and secured at least a vague commitment for of a regiment of crack Waffen SS troops for anti-partisan duty in Poland if that proved necessary. The troops were training in Germany for the coming summer offensive in Russia, but could be diverted if absolutely necessary. Himmler made it sound as if such a necessity would be Heydrich's fault, and the commitment of so a large number of elite SS combat troops would require Hitler's personal approval. But Himmler assured Heydrich, in a tone the dripped with reproach, the Fuehrer would agree. The unspoken predicate was that it would be preferable that such a request never be made.

To better protect himself, and also burnish his reputation as a man of action, Heydrich decided to be on the scene himself. Globocnik was an effective commander, but not Heydrich's man. Not only that, Heydrich wanted personal credit for annihilating the threat to the camps. He saw in the current crisis both great risk and opportunity. Killing Jews was fine and credible work, but being in the vicinity of a bit of actual combat, was even better.

Despite the fact that he'd spent the night in Prague, Heydrich decided to remain at his headquarters until he could depart for Poland. He directed his orderly, Unterscharfuhrer Klein, to take his car, and pick up a number of personal items and extra uniforms for the coming days. Heydrich then ordered that his airplane, a Fiesler Storch that he piloted himself, to be made ready for takeoff. Finally, Heydrich phoned Globo and authorized him to begin moving troops about immediately, without informing his subordinate that he planned to personally oversee the operation. Satisfied that he had done all he could for the moment, Heydrich lay down on his office couch to sleep off the remaining of the early morning hours. He would need to keep up his energy in the days ahead.

A few hours later, at 0600, while Heydrich still slept, SS Sergeant Iflein climbed into the green Mercedes for the trip out to his commander's county estate. The young man looked forward to driving the fine automobile on what promised to be a perfect spring morning.

There was virtually no traffic in the city at this early hour, and anyway there were rarely private Czech automobiles about, gas, spare parts and the necessary permits being in short supply. Leaving the city, Iflein turned onto the high road and gunned the engine, exhilarated by the power of the car, appreciating his luck that in this time of war, with—some were saying—a million casualties in Russia already, he had pulled such important, but pleasant and safe duty. Klein slowed as he entered the sleeping town of Kobylisy, in the hills several kilometers outside the city. The town's streets zigged and zagged in the charming way of many Czech villages and he contentedly steered the car round the many bends.

In the brush near the apex of one of the hairpin turns, Jan Kubis and Josef Gabcik lay in wait, armed with British Sten submachineguns and grenades. They were former Czech soldiers who had escaped to Britain after the Nazi occupation. There they joined the British special services and received training in demolitions and guerilla tactics. The pair had secretly parachuted back into Czechoslovakia several days before with the mission of assassinating Reinhard Heydrich. They knew Heydrich's general routine, and planned to kill him when he was most vulnerable during his early morning drive to work. Now they saw a green Mercedes come into sight, but traveling in the wrong direction. Instead of heading into Prague as they expected, it appeared to be heading out into the country! No matter, the Czech commandos decided. Even through the early morning mist it was clear that the car was Heydrich's. The Mercedes was unmistakable, and the driver clearly a tall SS officer. As the Mercedes slowed to negotiate another sharp turn, Gabcik emerged from the bushes, took aim, and pulled the trigger of his Sten.

Klein saw a man step into the roadway and point a machinegun at him. Stunned, he froze for a second. His heart pounding he steered the car away from the man who now struggled with the weapon's action.

The gun had jammed! Pressing hard on the accelerator Klein felt the thrill of escape until an explosion suddenly rocked the car. Klein felt the sting of glass and shrapnel as the Mercedes careened into a ditch, throwing him against the windshield.

Kubis, having tossed his grenade in the nick of time, rushed past Gabcik, who threw down his jammed Sten in disgust and pulled out his own grenade. The Mercedes was off the road in a ditch about twenty yards away. Kubis, holding a pistol, knelt in the roadway.