Vengeance 10

As Memling made his way towards the designated building a distant roaring grew louder, and he looked towards the north to see a thunderhead of white smoke roiling upwards and, a moment later, a pointed cylindrical shape rising above the trees. Its fuselage was painted in alternating bands of red and yellow, and in the bright summer sunshine it flashed as brilliantly as the pure column of flame on which it was balanced. For an instant he was suffused with sheer joy as he watched a dream come to life. Even when the rocket had disappeared into the cobalt sky, Memling continued to stare after it, oblivious to anything else until a bicycle bell forced him to step hastily aside.

A smiling middle-aged man in a nicely tailored suit shook hands, offered him a seat and a cigarette, and welcomed him to the Peenemunde research facility.

‘We would like you to know that we are very grateful to you for accepting our position here at Peenemunde. We need all the technically minded people we can obtain, and I think you will find us willing to go out of our way to make you happy here.’

Memling assumed the proper dazed attitude; it was easy enough, as he recalled the conditions under which he had worked in Liege.

He was assigned to a quality control station monitoring the tolerances of valve assemblies which he quickly discovered were a part of the fuel control system for the rocket he had seen launched that morning. His foreman was a French national, extracted from a labour camp at Belsen and assigned to Peenemunde. Memling quickly gained overall impressions from the man which suggested that Allied intelligence regarding Peenemunde was sadly inadequate.

‘You will find the Hun a totally different type here,’ the foreman told him. ‘These are scientists, not soldiers or SS. They are just like any of us. Four thousand people work here. I tell you, it is enough to make your head spin when you realise all that is going on. We are not supposed to know, but everyone does. You are soon swept up in the scientific spirit, and then you are no longer working for the enemy but with fellow scientists. I ask you, did you ever think that some day man would fly to the moon? Well, they will, and perhaps sooner than any of us think. And if they do, it will be right from here, Peenemunde! Talk to any of the scientists. They will tell you the same, and what is more, if you have something constructive to offer, they will listen. I tell you, this place is what Plato’s republic might have been. Ah! If only there were not this damned war! But enough, your job will be to follow the specifications laid down on these sheets.’ He showed Memling a series of printed pages in protective celluloid covers, and a fine set of gauges.

‘The measurements must not vary by more than a tenth of a millimetre, otherwise the system must be rejected. Perform each measurement three times, recording the readings. Average the results, and if within limits, mark the card attached to each unit after reassembly and sign your initials and employee identification number. Understood?’

Memling assured him it was, and performed the first two measurements while the foreman watched, grunting with approval at the expert way he handled the gauges. Before he left, the foreman confided that this station was used to weed out the inept, and if Memling passed through successfully, he would undoubtedly be promoted to a more interesting task with an increase in salary as well.

That evening he discussed his day with Herr Zinn, who worked as a gang foreman supervising twenty Russian POWs. Grudgingly, and with much coaxing, he confirmed Memling’s observations. The rocket that had been launched that morning was called an A-4. Similar to the one photographed by CIU, he said to himself. This morning’s launch was apparently part of a series of tests, not all of which were successful. Some of the rockets disappeared into the sky, and some exploded either at the launching site or after they were in the air. In addition, there was a type of aeroplane that flew without a pilot; the Luftwaffe were conducting their own series of experiments on that one. Zinn knew little about them and cared less.

That evening Memling expressed his misgivings concerning the Zinns. Francine tended to dismiss his complaints, and Memling was uncomfortably aware that she was assuming a superior role. He was at a loss to know how to deal with it and cursed the unknown resistance leaders who had saddled him with this inexperienced little fool.

The Zinns, however, were a bigger problem. The man was clearly stupid and considered foreigners beneath contempt. The wife was little better, and shrewish and grasping into the bargain. It would be only a matter of time before it occurred to the Zinns to realise a profit by selling them to the authorities.

On the afternoon of his third day Memling was taken by one of the German engineers into the assembly area and shown the A-4 power plant.