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  When the trucks pulled up on the road behind his bivouac, Hans was told nothing more than to get his gear and get in the back of the truck. He picked up his meager belongings, his mess kit, a couple of blankets, his backpack and his rifle and trudged off to the rear of the truck.

  “What’s going on?” he asked the leutnant, who unlatched the truck’s tailgate. “Where are we going?”

  “I don’t know,” the leutnant grunted. “I don’t ask questions. I just do what I’m told. I have orders to put you in the truck. That’s all. The driver knows where he is supposed to go. I have no idea. Just get in.”

  Hans got in with three other soldiers from another unit. They huddled in the back of the truck as the canvas covering the rear of the truck was closed. At least he was not alone. He sat across from the three other soldiers. They looked like they were happy to just be doing something other than fighting. Hans moved to the front of the truck bed, hoping that with the canvas top and his sitting behind the cab it might keep him warmer. As he settled on the wooden bench seat, the leutnant slammed the tailgate and closed the back flap.

  The truck began to move as Hans pulled out his blankets and began the soldier’s well known skill of making any place a place to sleep. He looked around in the dim light. One of the other soldiers was well ahead of him and had staked himself out a bed and was already beginning to snore. Damn. What luck to be able to go to sleep so fast! The musty air from the wet canvas in the closed back of the truck seemed like a large animal coming out of his lair to consume them. He decided to get some sleep himself. One thing he learned as a soldier, sleep when and where you can. The others were bedding down as well.

  The jerking of the truck woke Hans and his three comrades. No one knew how much time passed, but it was very dark. They were turning onto another road. One of the men slid back and opened the flap to see what was going on. Through bleary eyes, Hans saw nothing but darkness. No lights, not even the road behind them. And it was cold. He sat back; very thankful he was in this crappy truck.

  “Ah,” said the soldier as he climbed back up to the front of the truck, “I see you are awake. Great!”

  “Yeah, I am,” answered Hans as he moved into another position, his ass sore from the hard bench seat. “What did you see?”

  “Not a thing. We are in the middle of nowhere,” said the soldier, “but at least we are riding, not walking. I’ll take a ride any day. My name’s Mauer, Johann Mauer.” He moved over and sat by Kruger.

  “What about these two?” asked Kruger, pointing at the duo across from them just beginning to stir.

  “Don’t know. They have not been very talkative,” Mauer answered.

  “Aww, bite my ass,” growled one of the men. “This is the first sleep we’ve had in the last four days. I don’t have any idea where I am going, but I know it has to be better than where we were. “

  “Where’s that?” asked Mauer.

  “Hell, I tell you,” answered the voice from under the blanket beside the growler. He pulled back his blanket and sat up holding the blanket around him. “Hell.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been there too,” Kruger said as he looked down at his boots. “There is nothing but rain, cold, mud and death. Not a holiday spot in anyone’s imagination.”

  “So, you got a name?” asked Mauer in an almost happy voice.

  “Fritz Vogel,” he said, pulling his blanket closer and trying to return to his nest.

  “Hey, what’s up with all this? Where are we going?” asked Kruger, looking wide-eyed at Mauer.

  “Hell, I don’t know what’s going on,” answered Mauer. “We got picked up just like you.”

  “I don’t know where we are going and I don’t care. Would you just shut up and let a guy get some sleep,” cracked Vogel as he covered his head with his blanket and settled into the corner again.

  Mauer grabbed Vogel’s blanket and slung it to the rear of the truck. “Get your lazy ass up!”

  Vogel sat up and acted like he was going to smack Mauer. Then he stopped. He really did not want any part of Mauer. Mauer was about twice the size of Vogel. All this time the fourth soldier just reburied his head in blankets and returned to his sleep.

  The group rode in the back of the covered truck for about three more hours, stopping only to refuel. As the truck trudged through the slightly frozen, muddy roads, Hans smiled as the huge wheels splashed the roadside soldiers with the gloppy, cold mix of water and mud. Poor bastards… at least he was riding, and in a truck with a cover no less.

  There was very little conversation between the men as they decided Vogel’s idea was probably the best…get some sleep. They all were so happy to get out of the cold and get out of the war that they really did not care where they were going. At least it was away from the front lines.

  Hans’ mind drifted as he napped. He remembered his best friend, Richard, who died the week before in his arms. Best friend? Hans had known Richard for a little more than six months. It was funny how war brought certain guys together as friends. Everyone told him not to get close to anyone. The hurt at the loss of a friend in war was just not worth the camaraderie. Hans’ vision of Richard lying there after the explosion blew him apart… he did not think he would ever forget Richard’s face as, still alive, he looked down to see everything from his waist down turned into ground red meat. Thankfully Richard said that he did not feel anything as he died quickly.

  They were only a few feet apart when the artillery shell landed just outside Richard’s foxhole. Although the men reinforced their foxholes with sandbags and some tin from a farmhouse roof, it was no match for the artillery shell. When it slammed into the ground beside Richard it exploded. Searing chunks and shards of hot steel screamed through Richard’s lower body, shredding his legs and manhood, shearing his buttocks completely off. His body flew into the air and landed behind Hans. When Hans raised his head and cleared his brain, he saw a huge, smoking hole where his friend once was. Looking around, he spotted Richard, or what was left of him, lying about six feet behind him. Hans scrambled out of his foxhole and got to Richard, gently lifting his head. His face was an ashen white; his blood loss was clearly catastrophic; his intestines had an eerie sheen even though they were spread all around in chunks. He looked into Richard’s eyes, surprised to see that he was still alive.

  “Medical!” Hans screamed, hoping for some miracle cure for Richard’s massive wounds. His head swiveled looking for the medic. “Just hold on…hold on!” he urged.

  “I can’t …” Richard whispered, shocking Hans.

  “It’s okay… the medic is coming… just hang on…”

  Richard never heard Hans’ words as the blackness of death rolled over him. His time in this hell was over.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  March 30, 1945

  Outside Bunker Entrance 300 Kilometers Southwest of Berlin, Germany; 2:55 a.m.

  “Actung! Please step toward the door,” a metallic voice from an overhead speaker bellowed.

  Schneider quickly whirled around and ran over to open the car door for Major Rauch. It was time.

  “Sir, they are ready for us.”

  “It’s about time,” complained Rauch as he stepped from the car. As they walked toward the cave-like opening and down the short tunnel to the door, they heard a screeching noise as it began to open. A low red light leaked through the widening crack in the two steel doors as they slowly slid apart. Before the doors were barely open, eight heavily armed masked SS storm troopers flew out of the door surrounding the two German officers before they could realize it. Two dozen more storm troopers swarmed the trucks.

  “What the…” gasped the clearly surprised Rauch as he reacted to the sheer speed and effectiveness of these men.

  “Quiet!” a terse voice ordered from out of sight. “Step forward into the light.”

  Rauch was so surprised that he unconsciously took two steps before he realized it. A few more steps and both of the officers and the guards were inside and the outside door was closing. None of
the guards spoke a word. Their eyes drilled holes into the two men and at no time did their weapons’ aim leave them.

  The huge door closed with a heavy clunk. Rauch and Schneider were in a cramped ante room, about ten meters square. Rauch looked around, his eyes adjusting to the pale red light bathing the room. He noticed an SS officer standing in the corner behind the door. He was the most perfect SS officer Rauch had ever seen. Standing bolt upright, he was about six feet, four inches tall with short blond hair with a square rugged jaw.

  “Do you have any weapons?” the officer demanded. Both Rauch and Schneider unbuttoned their heavy coats and produced their Sauer 38H .32 ACP side arms.

  “Take the weapons,” snapped the officer. Immediately, gloved hands snatched the pistols from their hands.

  “Wait, you,” interjected Rauch. He clearly did not like being disarmed by a lower ranked SS officer. But before he could finish his sentence, two guards stepped up in unison and thrust their Schmeisser Maschinenpistole 40 submachine guns into Rauch’s back. He froze. He got the message…these guys meant business!

  The SS officer stepped out of the corner and pressed a button on the wall. A voice challenge was issued. The officer answered and stepped over to the inner door. The doors began to open slowly revealing a short hallway with passages to the left and right. With the SS officer leading, Rauch, Schneider and four of the guards started down the hall as the doors closed behind them with another heavy thud.

  Rauch was trying to be calm. But now that he saw this facility and the heavy guard, he realized this was no ordinary bunker. Maybe he was wrong. This was not just a stupid milk run; he was not wasting his time. This was definitely something big.

  At the end of the short hall, the group went to the right around a three foot thick concrete wall clearly there as a deterrent to explosives. If someone tried to blast their way into the entrance, this wall would keep the explosion from passing into the passage beyond. Once past the trap, there were four heavy steel doors, a pair on each side of the hall. The passage had widened now, nearly ten meters wide. The group stopped in front of the second door on the right. No one spoke. The SS officer stepped up to the door and pressed a small button just below a square speaker.

  “Actung!” a terse voice snapped, “Challenge!”

  The SS officer leaned forward and answered, “Sky Master is in flight.”

  Nearly five seconds passed.

  “The summer breeze on my face,” was the answer from the speaker.

  Again the SS officer leaned forward and replied, “Widows cannot have the stage.”

  Another few seconds passed. Then there were the distinct sounds of locks and gears turning. Then silence. Almost without a sound the heavy door slowly began to open. The door was massive! It was about one meter thick and looked to be made of the finest steel. A bright light from within the next room nearly blinded them. Rauch thought to himself, this is no bunker; this is a vault! He could feel a slight breeze of warm air rushing out of the inside of the vault. When the door stopped, all of the men stepped into the next room, which was surprisingly small but had a pocket window on the left with a young SS soldier manning a desk station inside. A large, steel double elevator door stood directly in front of the group. The room was painted a stark white.

  As soon as they were all inside, the massive door began to close. Once closed and the sounds of the locking mechanism finished, the SS officer walked over to the window and presented his ID badge for inspection. Then he spoke quietly to the soldier. Immediately the elevator doors opened to reveal a huge cargo elevator like nothing Rauch or Schneider had ever seen. Several large trucks could fit inside. Rauch glanced at the elevator controls. His eyes widened… there were twelve numbers on the pad. My God, were there twelve stories to this facility? What in the hell was this place?

  The SS officer pressed the button for level five and the elevator began to sink. It took only a few seconds for the elevator to stop and the door to open, again to a small ante room with the same setup as the ground floor they arrived on. The SS officer walked over to the window, presented his ID card and murmured something to the guard behind the glass. There was a loud buzzing sound and an opposite heavy steel door opened automatically. At least this door was only a few inches thick, thought Rauch.

  This time the guards stayed in the ante room and Rauch, Schneider and the SS officer walked into the hallway beyond. Once the door was closed, the hall reminded Rauch of a hospital or other government building. There were doors on each side every six to eight meters. The floor was linoleum and antiseptic. Everything seemed new and spotless. The group walked down a few doors where the officer stopped and entered a room to the right.

  “Please come in, Rauch, Schneider. Have a seat. Would either of you like a cigarette? These are American.” Another perfect SS officer stood before them.

  Both Rauch and Schneider were puzzled, both glancing at each other. The mood had changed. Both politely took a cigarette and breathed a sigh of relief, thus relaxing the situation with their host. The room, although small, was neatly appointed with leather chairs and nice end tables. A dark, rich burgundy rug was spread across the floor covering all but a few inches on all sides. Matching lamps sat on each of the four end tables. A large meeting table sat in the center of the room. Without the center table, the room looked like a doctor’s waiting room. Rauch noticed it even smelled like a doctor’s office. There was a slight antiseptic odor and everything was clean.

  “Please allow me to introduce myself, gentlemen. I am Hauptsturmführer Reiniger. I am a captain in the SS serving the Fatherland here in this bunker. As you have seen, the security here is extreme. You have been ordered here to do an important job. You have the trucks and men that were outlined?”

  “Yes, sir,” squawked Schneider without hesitation and before Rauch could even think about answering.

  Suck up… thought Rauch.

  “Very good then, we will get started at once,” said Reiniger. “Please take off your coats and get comfortable.”

  They took off their coats, each lighting their cigarettes, and sat down around the very nice mahogany table. Reiniger began to speak.

  “Gentlemen, we have been tasked with transporting valuable cargo, cargo that is extremely important to the success of the Third Reich. Arrangements have been made for you to take this cargo to a location to be transferred to the mode of transportation for the next leg of this trip. You will stay with this cargo from this day forward. You will never be away from it until it reaches the final destination. Do you understand exactly what I am saying?”

  Rauch was puzzled. “Exactly where are we taking this, this cargo?”

  “That is not for me to say. You will be given detailed orders as to where to take the cargo and what specifically to do with it. The cargo is classified. That is all you need to know,” Reiniger stated curtly. “If there are no more questions…” Reiniger paused for just an instant, “then we can move on.”

  Reiniger stood up. “You may leave your coats here. We will come back for our final orders once the trucks have been loaded.” The two men stood, placed their cigarettes in the ashtray on the table and followed Reiniger.

  “I had no idea this complex was here,” started Rauch.

  “Yes,” answered Reiniger. “This location is secret. Officially it does not exist; therefore you are not to speak to anyone about what you have seen here.” Reiniger’s easy-going attitude had changed to a stern warning. “Do you fully understand?”

  “Yes, of course,” answered Rauch also speaking for Schneider.

  Reiniger glanced at the two and quietly said, “Excellent. Please follow me. I have something to show you.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  March 30, 1945

  Outside the Bunker Entrance 300 Kilometers Southwest of Berlin, Germany; 3:10 a.m.

  Outside the soldiers in the trucks were freezing. Snow was still falling along with the temperature. The trucks did afford some protection from the wind but not much from the
cold. They were also unaware of another potential hazard…the SS troops that had completely surrounded them.

  “What the hell is going on? Why are we just sitting here on our asses?” Mauer asked impatiently.

  Just then the heavy door of the bunker opened again and an officer emerged motioning to the armed guards surrounding the trucks. Two troopers stepped up on the running boards of the cab of each truck, one on each side. Once a pair of troopers was on each truck, the order to move was issued. Kruger, one of the soldiers, moved to the rear of the truck and peeked out of the canvas.

  “Get back in the truck,” a terse order came from one of the SS troopers. Kruger jumped back, surprised at the voice and frankly at the loudness of the command. Whoever said that meant business.

  Several guards moved a gate that looked like a brush pile at the edge of the clearing exposing a narrow road. The trucks moved down the road about a half a kilometer from the clearing at the bunker entrance. They came to a stop in another small open area with a massive tree trunk lying on its side. One of the troopers on the lead truck jumped off and walked over to a hidden switch and the huge log slowly began to rise, revealing another hidden road that the truck caravan quickly drove down. As soon as the last truck cleared, the trunk slowly returned to its normal position obscuring the hidden road. After another half kilometer, the trucks stopped in front of a hill at the end of the road. Again the guard stepped off, walked over to what looked like a large tree and pulled a hidden lever. The hillside began to open like a giant clamshell revealing another huge steel door, a garage door large enough for the trucks to enter. The guard ran over to a small speaker box and within a minute the steel door opened. The trucks slowly entered a massive underground garage completely hidden within the hill.