‘His personal deportment is neither here nor there,’ Himmler snapped. ‘The man has been completely reinstated, and his superiors speak highly of him. As for a court of law, the SS needs no court to instruct it in its duty. Herr von Braun is accused of treason. He will be tried by an SS tribunal.’
Even though Bethwig had expected nothing else, Himmler’s pronouncement shook him. The SS had the power of life and death over every party member in Germany through its secret police, the Gestapo. But members of the armed forces were exempt. Von Braun was a civilian employee of the army. Is that enough? he wondered.
Before he could capitalise on the theory, Himmler resumed his seat and, in abstracted manner — as if the subject really did not interest him — asked, ‘Just what was the objective of this so-called A-Ten project? I believe it involved rockets of some sort?’
‘The A-Ten is…’ Bethwig hesitated only the barest fraction of a second as the thought occurred to him that Himmler had set this whole ridiculous drama in motion only to discover what his second-in-command had been up to.
‘But surely you know, Herr Reichsführer’ — he tested — ‘as your subordinate, Reichsprotektor Heydrich certainly would have explained the details of the project to you?’
Himmler’s eyes flashed at him, and in that instant Bethwig realised that his flippancy had made him an extremely dangerous enemy.
‘Of course he explained it to me; however, I am essentially a non-technical person so I did not understand all of what he was saying,’ Himmler answered smoothly. ‘Reinhard trained at Kiel and understood complicated engineering and scientific concepts. Myself, I am little more than a simple country farmer, serving the Reich as best I can.’
This last was said with a completely straight face, and Bethwig coughed to smother the laugh that threatened to overwhelm him. Choosing his words with care, he explained the concept of the A-10 rocket as applied to the military situation, and ended with Heydrich’s latest information concerning the uranium bomb.
After he finished, Himmler was silent for several minutes, staring at the huge party banner that dominated one wall of the immense room. ‘An interesting, if risky, conjecture.’ Turning back to Bethwig, he said, ‘It all smacks of that silly cinema film of a few years ago in which a girl goes to the moon.’ Bethwig knew he was referring to the Fritz Lang film of the late 1920s
Himmler questioned him closely for twenty minutes, showing a greater grasp of technology than he admitted. It became clear later, when Bethwig had a chance to think about it, that Himmler’s questions signified some, but not a great deal of, knowledge about the project; it was as if he were filling gaps. It occurred to him that perhaps Heydrich had kept his boss in the dark about the project, and Himmler, never one to ignore a possible advantage, was now taking the opportunity to explore it fully — before someone else did.
Himmler appeared satisfied and hummed to himself as he made notes on a small pad. ‘You could be in a great deal of trouble yourself.’ He looked up suddenly.
Bethwig smiled. He had nothing to fear from this, in his father’s words, ‘jumped-up chicken farmer’.
‘How is that, Herr Reichsführer?’
‘You, my boy, are in possession of one of the most closely guarded secrets of the Reich — the uranium bomb. I believe that if our files were checked for those persons with access to such information, your name would not be among them. The penalty for such an offence ranges from ten years’ imprisonment to death.’
Bethwig inclined his head politely. ‘In that case, Herr Reichsführer, you would have to imprison or shoot half the scientists in Germany.’
Himmler laughed. ‘Probably so,’ he conceded. ‘Probably so. But in any event, I must take what steps I can to remedy this situation. We do know that the Allies are also working to develop a uranium bomb, and we would not want them to learn of our progress.’
‘No, we would not,’ Bethwig answered, his voice smug.