Condor Wolf: The Talons of War

By Curtis Christianson

“The four propellers, powered by the powerful BMW aircraft engines of the Focke Wulf Condor, sliced through the pitch-black Polish airspace like steel switchblades in the night. Commanding the secret spy plane was SS Colonel Curt von Wolfsberg of the Schutzstaffel’s Condor Wolf Aufklarungsgruppe (to conceive, explain, and conceal) SS Aerial Photographic Reconnaissance and Intelligence Air Group. Their mission had top-secret priority in Adolf Hitler’s plan to invade Poland. They were to find the enemy’s military targets and convey this information back to the German army commanders for analysis. This was one of the paramount information gathering processes before the mechanized armored Blitzkrieg invasion activated. The reconnaissance had to be done with stealth—without alerting any enemy defenders of their intentions.” Excerpt From: Curtis Christianson. “CONDOR WOLF THE TALONS OF WAR.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781635684452

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Condor Wolf

The Talons of War

Curtis Christianson

Copyright © 2017 Curtis Christianson

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2017

ISBN 978-1-63568-444-5 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63568-445-2 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Prologue

The four propellers, powered by the powerful BMW aircraft engines of the Focke Wulf Condor, sliced through the pitch-black Polish airspace like steel switchblades in the night. Commanding the secret spy plane was SS Colonel Curt von Wolfsberg of the Schutzstaffel’s Condor Wolf Aufklarungsgruppe (to conceive, explain, and conceal) SS Aerial Photographic Reconnaissance and Intelligence Air Group. Their mission had top-secret priority in Adolf Hitler’s plan to invade Poland. They were to find the enemy’s military targets and convey this information back to the German army commanders for analysis. This was one of the paramount information gathering processes before the mechanized armored Blitzkrieg invasion activated. The reconnaissance had to be done with stealth—without alerting any enemy defenders of their intentions.

The aircraft was reaching an altitude of three-thousand meters, as Curt, with his canvass flight helmet on his head, sat warming himself inside the freezing cold fuselage of the huge aircraft. With dog fur lined leather gloves on both hands, he sat hugging opposite armpits of his thick black leather flight jacket … nervously. He gazed down at the newly installed Bombay doors on the floor deck of the immense Condor aircraft, and then his eyes fixed on his upright camera equipment half suspended by cables in mid-air. The apparatus looked like a giant perforated metal robotic arm. Soon, the Bombay doors would fly open to let the cold air rush in, and at that moment, he would hydraulically lower the steel arm camera probe beneath the undercarriage of the aircraft in the open air. The twin Leica 35mm motion picture cameras were mounted side by side on a swivel plate, rotating on top of a large ball bearing, attached to the metal fathom. The entire foundation of the fold-down rig was welded to the metal floor of the plane. After the Bombay doors dropped open, the cameras, cameraman, and the steel platform would be lowered beneath the plane, permitting the cameraman access to aerial photographic espionage of enemy targets below.

The young colonel reminisced on how this sophisticated photographic equipment had been invented. He shook his head in amazement, as he recalled the primitive techniques he had used in aerial photography in the Spanish civil war. The Spanish civil war had been Hitler’s testing ground for modern German weapons in this new global conflict. Curt smiled to himself; he pulled his right glove off from the middle finger with his teeth. With the leather glove in his mouth, he reached up with his naked hand, unzipped his flight jacket, and touched the gold Spanish cross hanging by a heavy gold chain across his throat. He gently caressed the gold medal with his middle fingers. The Spanish cross was the pinch that made the past reality—it was his heroic keepsake from that civil war in Spain. It had been a long journey to get to this place in time … now, here. He thought back to the beginning in 1936, in Germany, where his adventure began …

Tattoo Ceremony

The black Daimler Mercedes-Benz captured perfect moonlight shadows from starlight across its dull warlike hood, then it reflected the light harmlessly back to the heavens. Within the sculptured metal and glass vehicle, the two SS officers relaxed and waited, totally protected from the night light raid. It was a clear, cool night, the kind of night on which the cold bit at the skin if it wasn’t protected from the autumn air. It wasn’t quite winter in Germany; it was fall, late October 1936. The two officers were dressed in their new Nazi Schultzstaffel black wool overcoats. Their black polished leather boots dead-ended at the knee. Their long-sleeved white shirts were concealed within their double-breasted coats, except at the neck; here you could barely see the starched white collars and the black ties. On each of their left biceps was the swastika band, highlighted in black, circled in white, and adorned in red. The cold steel black-beveled helmets protected their blond Aryan hair on their pure-blooded heads.

The twenty-three-year-old senior officer, Captain Curt von Wolfsberg, planted his hip on the soft leather passenger seat. He rolled his shoulders in the direction of his pivoting hip and moved his left hand slowly into his adjacent coat pocket. His hand moved like a lumbering crane as it fell to retrieve the pack of American cigarettes he had hidden in his pocket. After gripping his precious cargo, he brought the opened pack in front of the driver’s face.

Would you like a cigarette, Carl? They are from Virginia, Curt offered.

Carl looked at his superior officer and calmly shook his head from side to side.

No thanks, Curt. I don’t want to turn into one of those cowboys.

The lieutenant reached downward to the lower dashboard of the car. After fondling the keys, he turned the ignition on, pressed the floorboard starter with his left foot, and gunned the gas pedal. The finely tuned engine started immediately; the roar returned to a soft idle hum that could only be sensed by a deaf person who was feeling its distinct vibration. The driver gripped the steering wheel at eleven o’clock with his left hand and, with his right hand, gently manipulated the car’s gear shift. The Mercedes, as if having a will of its own, moved cautiously down the winding two-lane road. The pitch-black road was insulated from the skyline by the thick-wooded forest. Curt looked out the window and could see the midnight beauty of the heavens in all its boldness. This was a German night, a German heaven; the entire world was to be Germany.

How far is it to Feldherrnalle, my friend and expert camera prop officer? Curt asked in a curious, kidding way as he began lighting his cigarette.

I’m not really sure. I think we are about twenty kilometers from the outskirts of Munichen. There should be a checkpoint coming up in a few minutes. Reach in the side panel and pull out that map.

Carl motioned to the side panel on the passenger door where he kept his map.

Is this the map in the forward saddle?

Curt reached into the leather compartment in front of the door jam and up into the quarter panel of the cab. From there he retrieved a Lugar pistol and brought it to Carl’s attention.

As if we don’t have enough protection without side arms. What’s this doing in the car? Is this really necessary, Carl?

That is standard issue for most staff cars built by the manufacturer. Usually there is a machine pistol in that case. I guess they ran out of those weapons. I don’t know. But when I signed for the vehicle at the auto pool, they mentioned it to me, and we have a Mauser rifle with fifty rounds of ammunition mounted in the trunk. I had to sign for both of these weapons before they would let me take the car. It seems like an awful lot of firepower to me. Carl stated.

I don’t understand. I really don’t. We are merely cameramen, photojournalists, Curt questioned.

The automobile screamed down the road, catching three lazy S-turns on the highway. Into the third turn, the driver could see a red lantern and barricade blocking the road.

This must be the security checkpoint I remember seeing on the map. When we were in Berlin and I was reviewing our itinerary, I noticed this charted inspection before we hit Munichen. Then it’s easy sailing … I think, Carl reviewed.

At the barricade, the two men could make out four distinct silhouettes of armed German army soldiers. Two were standing on the right-hand shoulder of the road near a sandbagged bunker. The others were placed strategically behind the lead confrontation group where they provided additional cover in case they were assaulted by unfriendly intruders. A short distance away from the bunker, there was a BMW motorcycle with sidecar. Fixed atop the sidecar was a machine gun. On the body of the dark green gray sidecar, the traditional German Iron Cross emblem with the white highlighting the solid black cross was painted.

As the unmarked staff car slowed to approach the stop, another soldier appeared out of what looked like a small shed or communications office. Unlike the helmeted soldiers, he was wearing an officer’s leather-brimmed peaked hat. As he passed the four soldiers, they immediately came to attention. Not caring to return the military gesture, the officer proceeded around the barricade post and to the front of the lateral metal beam. As the vehicle began to brake, the officer reached his right arm upward in a knife-like fashion at a sixty-five-degree angle and shouted in a sharp drill-like command, Halt!

The four soldiers standing by him headed to the left rear behind the officer and fell into a battle-fixed standing formation. Carl pulled off to the shoulder of the road, approximately fifteen meters in front of the barricade, and stopped. The officer briskly walked to the driver side of the car and knocked on the window with his left hand. Carl began cranking the window down, but before he had rolled it all the way open, the officer began shouting orders.

Your papers please! ordered the officer. The officer now recognized that the men in the car were SS officers. He calmed himself down and presented a more professional and respectful approach. He then clicked his boot heels together and raided his right arm in an L position with the palm of his opened hand.

Heil Hitler! Where are you gentlemen heading? To Munichen? the officer exclaimed.

Curt and Carl nodded their heads reluctantly, trying not giving their exact mission away. At the same time, both of them reached inside their overcoat pockets and presented their identification papers to the army lieutenant. After the officer scrutinized their passes and identification and found them to be authentic and current, he handed them back to the SS members.

I understand the SS is having a secret ceremony tonight and that our esteemed Führer will be present. I would give anything to see this great man in person. In one year, this man has taken the German people from anarchy, economic depression, and chaos and reinstated the German Reich to its position in the world as a military and industrial power. It makes me proud to be a part of this powerful German machine. I hope you will have a safe journey. You may pass. Heil Hitler!

The officer clicked his boot heels together and saluted the travelers. He turned to his combat security unit and waved his hand. Two of the soldiers immediately raised the metal barrier that blocked the roadway. Carl slipped the gear shift into first gear and slowly released the clutch with his left foot; the car began to engage and rolled forward across the checkpoint and onward down the road. The soldiers resealed their trap and waited patiently for the next travelers of the night.

The car headed down the mountainous terrain; the topography broke and shifted until it finally melted into a beautifully landscaped valley of farms, nestled in small wooded forests. Curt could see cows, sheep, horses, and pigs through the car window. They were roaming around within the barbed-wire fencing, defining the individual farms and their boundaries. The rural valley was colored in deep greens and harvest yellows, revealing a checkered maze. Curt thought to himself how beautiful this countryside must look from the sky looking down. With the moonlight acting as the spotlight and his eyes as the camera lenses, he could picture all the beauty of this night world. In the distance, the cameramen could see the illumination of the city lights of Munichen. On their approach to the city, the countryside became dotted with dwellings and vehicles on both the sides of the road. Tractors and wagons were replaced with motorcars and bicycles. The asphalt highway was transformed into an old and narrow cobblestone road.

The approach to the city was walled by ancient Roman Gothic archery towers; the stone fortifications were a testament of the citadels from the Roman occupation. As they passed through the arched brick gateway and entered the city, the buildings blended into the ancient wall; beginning at that point, they worked their way into the heart of the city. German craftsmanship and architecture created a new Munichen, with traditional German Alpine beauty embossed with modern buildings of the 1930s. The car worked its way in and out of street loops and town squares, worming itself closer to the center of the city and Feldherrnhalle.

The road wound in and out of village greens and parks. Each park was decorated with beautiful trees and flower gardens and in the center of each one; there were striking artistic statues and water fountains. It seemed the city was a mass of small villages, all strung together like a string of pearls, sparkling in the midnight light.

Now the Daimler entered the heart of the city. A crowd of drunks holding hands crossed into oncoming traffic, sneaking their way down the road to the next tavern. Carl had to brake or swerve constantly to evade the rowdy street party.

Finally, after losing precious time to the pedestrian’s folly, Carl and Curt arrived at Feldherrnhalle Hall.

The Hall served as an auditorium and staging area for Nazi events and as a shrine to fallen Nazis. Tonight, these photojournalists would enter the realm of German history forever. Tonight, the hall was hosting the SS tattoo ceremony. Just at the stroke of midnight, Adolf Hitler would enthrall his elite guard into his bizarre world of Nazism.

The staff car was greeted by SS guards at the front entrance of Feldherrnhalle. Two soldiers on opposite sides of the car opened both doors of the Mercedes. Carl and Curt jolted from their seats and proceeded to walk to the trunk of the car.

We’ll need some help here with the camera gear, Carl exclaimed as he motioned the two guards to the back of the vehicle. The assistant opened the trunk lid and proceeded to grab tripods and mounts that were resting on top of the equipment. As Carl and SS guards began sorting out the many large leather cases. Curt began panning the entire compound, while assessing where he would stage his equipment.

Captain, you and your attaché must enter security checkpoint Alpha. Your equipment and weapons must be inspected at this station. If you have any sensitive materials, such as film or the like, you must declare them to the SS security unit that is making the inspection. Do you have any questions? If not, you may proceed.

The SS guard saluted the cameramen and walked to the next vehicle that had just arrived behind their equipment.

Checkpoint Alpha was at the base of the entrance of the marble stairs leading up to the main entrance of the majestic structure. Three armed SS police belonging to a wing of the Gestapo were manning a cumbersome machine. The large rectangular box-like creature was unique; it looked like it was a giant black camera and this caught Curt’s eye instantly. As the two men walked closer to security Alpha, Curt stopped to inspect the machine.

What is this apparatus? Curt inquired.

This is the latest in X-ray technology. It can detect just about any kind of dense matter hidden in any container or even on your person. We are searching for anything that can be used in a hostile manner against our Führer or any other party officials. Please step this way. What type of equipment do you have in those leather cases? If there is anything in there, such as film for the cameras, it must be placed aside for sensitive observation. Now please place all items in front of the X-ray scanner, the Nazi inspector lectured.

The two officers removed all their side arms and ammunition and submitted them to the checkpoint officer for safekeeping. Curt motioned to the security officer, pointing his finger, identifying the sensitive film that was not to be screened. Then a canine team was called over to check the metal film canisters with the spools of film resting inside.

After Curt and Carl passed the inspection at Checkpoint Alpha, they made their way up the marble stairs to the stage and proceeded to set up their equipment. The performing area was a stage one hundred fifty meters long by thirty meters wide. There were three large arches on the front of the stage and three arches at the rear supporting the cathedral ceiling. Behind the stage there were large, pleated scarlet velvet drapes that the statues that were on stage. There were two lifelike granite male lions with shaggy manes standing in an attack posture; both lions were strategically placed on the left- and right-hand side of the marble podium, atop the center of the stage. Behind the lions, there were sixteen diamond shaped coffins placed upright in front of the backdrop. The coffins were painted bright red, and a soldier’s name was inscribed in gold on the face of each one; finally, below each name was the Imperial German Eagle insignia. On the top of each perfectly crafted coffer, there were candle-shaped fires. The gas fires illuminated the entire stage, each flame representing the eternal memories of these Nazi heroes who had given the ultimate sacrifice for the National Socialist Party.

The two photographers began gathering their instruments for making Nazi movie history. Curt told Carl exactly where he wanted to set up the tripods and explained which Pentex cameras should be mounted on which stand. The tricky part was to afford enough synthetic light to the stage without being overly photosensitive to the ominous presentation that was taking place. This meant that perfect placement of the cameras was critical to enhance the color photography, especially when working with a reel-fitted moving camera. Curt decided to monitor his camera at the profile angle. The, he decided to mount his camera on the tripod facing the audience, at the left side of the stage. This angle provided no obstructions; it held better light from the spotlights and gave Adolf Hitler’s better profile. Of course, this was strictly the subjective opinion of the photographer in charge of the camera shoot.

Carl began setting up his camera in the rear of the theater and in front of the entrance steps. He was angling the camera from a direct take. The view was supposed to capture the entire stage, with Hitler at an elevated position and all the SS inductees below looking on, in the audience. Curt’s idea was to pan the entire hall and to splice his profile shots with sound into the photographic journal at the end of the shoot. It was a basic concept; however, no matter what an artist wanted to create, everything had to be approved by the government’s censorship department first. This was always the most frustrating political difficulty in every film that Curt produced. No matter what he presented to the propaganda department, it was always subject to Joseph Goebbels and his editorship. There were a few times when Curt had to go explain to this Nazi minister of propaganda the real meaning of a short clip of developed film. The main issue was always about the interpretation and motive for taking such a picture. Every angle had to spotlight the Nazi Party in a positive perspective for both the international and domestic audiences. Sometimes it wasn’t so easy to keep every motion picture spotless for the censors; sometimes, the real world would prevail over the Department of Propaganda. For example, when Curt was filming athletic events at the University of Berlin, it was difficult to ignore other athletes from the International communities who were better than the German competitors. It was impossible to hide the fact that many were of African or Jewish origin. He could not hide the fact that these men and their athletic talents were a direct contradiction to Nazi Party beliefs in that they were of inferior genetic constitution.

Carl was ready to begin shooting. He signaled to Curt with his closed-fisted right hand and with his thumb straight up. Curt waved back, signaling that Carl could begin rolling the cameras. Within moments, the SS soldiers began to march in perfect unison into the large staging are below the stage. They were all dressed in black SS dress uniforms, wearing black steel helmets and Nazi arm bands on their left side. The inductees marched in, ten abreast and twenty deep, to the center of the pit area. It was an impressive display of order and military precision. No words were spoken by the men; there was total silence except for the sound of their hard leather boots pounding against the granite floor. Curt and Carl filmed this splendid display of timing and discipline. The entire procedure had only taken about five minutes. Now, standing in front of the stage were two hundred SS soldiers. These new inductees to the SS would form the backbone of Adolf Hitler’s Protection Unit, the Schutzstaffel. The stage was set for the SS tattoo ceremony. It was now one minute to midnight. This was Adolf Hitler’s most persuasive moment.

Hitler believed that his power over people was most enhanced at this witching hour. At midnight, the darkest abyss of the German leader’s will would arise and force his subjects to succumb to the force of his greater power. The Führer wistfully entered the stage from the side exit. He wore his traditional long-sleeved brown shirt and black tie. On his left arm, encircling his biceps, he wore the swastika, the black cross with arms extending in a right angle. It was an ominous pagan cross representing an unimaginable evil.

There was an eerie silence in the hall. All urban noises like cars, trucks, trains, and planes had been quieted by the Gestapo. The only noise was the church bells tolling the stroke of midnight. Hitler stood in front of the podium for a moment. After the church bells had stopped, he began the blood oath ceremony. In an explosive rage, he ordered his overwhelming demands. Each and every soldier was forced to accept the blood oath to Hitler. Individually, the SS men swore on their honor, I bind myself to carry out all orders conscientiously and without reluctance. The die was cast for these men. Their souls were no more. These Nazi soldiers were to act blindly and obediently to the orders of the German Master Race leader: Adolf Hitler.

At the conclusion of the ceremony, Hitler gave the Nazi salute. All the inductees simultaneously raised their hands in an erect ninety-degree jackknife motion consummating their loyalty to the Führer and shouting Heil Hitler! As perfectly as they had marched into the hall, the two hundred SS soldiers now emptied the hall. The sound of their stomping black boots made a synchronous rhythm; it was a cadence of total unity.

Curt and Carl released their camera triggers as the last soldier left the building. It was an exhausting shoot, not only because they were filming Hitler but also because they were doing it at such a close and intimate range. It was hardly believable. Curt signaled to Carl with his arm straight up and with a closed right fist. Curt shouted across the open room to Carl, That’s a wrap!

The young captain loved to use those Hollywood movie expressions. The two photojournalists immediately began the tedious task of breaking down the equipment. It was the repetition that made it menial work. If it had been new equipment or something like that, at least then it was fun to break it down. As Curt was ready to untwist the bottom ring support of the tripod attached to the camera, he felt someone tapping on his left shoulder. Thinking it was Carl kidding around; the spun around to meet what he thought was his jeering companion. Instead, standing right in front of him were two elite SS officers.

Are you Captain Curt von Wolfsberg? the SS colonel investigated.

Ah umm. Yes, Colonel. I am Curt von Wolfsberg. How can I be of service to you, sir? Curt asked in a surprised and startled manner.

Let me introduce myself and my assistant. I am Colonel Claus Manfred, and to my left is Captain Eric Rome. We have been sent here on special assignment by SS Brigade Führer Walter Schellenberg of the Foreign Intelligence, Ausland SD. You have been ordered to immediately report to Luftwaffe Aerial Intelligence Headquarters at Zorn. Here are your written orders. Do you have any questions? Please let me hear them now, the colonel demanded.

Yes sir, I do have some questions to ask of you. First, what about my assistant? Will he be going with me? Second, what about all my equipment? Do you want me to take it with me? Third, where is Zorn? Curt replied in a puzzled and nervous way.

For now, Captain, your assistant will take care of all of your things. He will be reassigned to you after your training. There is a car waiting for you and a driver who will take you to Zorn. Please secure your weapon at security Checkpoint Alpha. You are not to discuss anything with anyone about this meeting. Good luck, the colonel stated.

Curt disassembled the film reel from the camera. He grabbed it in his right hand and walked over the area where Carl was standing. He handed the reel to Carl and placed his hand on Carl’s right shoulder.

I can’t talk to you right now. I have to leave for a while—unfortunately, orders are orders. Take care of everything. I mean be kind to my tools, and I will call you in Berlin when I know more. Good-bye, my friend, and take care.

Curt headed toward Checkpoint Alpha. He approached the sergeant of arms, who was standing next to two other armed guards. Behind the captain was a huge metal safe. Inside the safe was a stockpile of arms and weapons.

Excuse me, gentlemen, I am Captain Curt von Wolfsberg. I am here to secure my Lugar. You’ll have to excuse me. I have forgotten the serial number that is on the gun. I had it memorized when it was issued to me, but that was some time ago.

The sergeant smiled as he shook his head. He appeared amused at the frankness and honesty portrayed by the young officer.

I have the same trouble keeping track of the numbers of all my weapons as well. But, Captain, I have a few more weapons than you, yes?

The Sergeant opened the vault by lifting a cold steel door handle. Inside there was a cache of weapons beyond belief. Hundreds of small arms, machine pistols, and rifles had been individually labeled and placed on slotted shelves. The sergeant went directly to Curt’s weapon and pulled it from its temporary bank. He then placed it on the rubber-lined table directly in front of him.

Here is your baby, sir. I had her cleaned for you. Compliments of the house. She is loaded and ready to fire. I just need you to sign my record book and you may go. A car is waiting in front of the hall, just left of the blood flag. Have a good trip, and take care of that weapon—you may need it someday to save your life. Heil Hitler!

The sergeant placed the gun gently on the matted table. It was as if he actually had some sort of relationship with every weapon that was entrusted to him. He spun the weapon in such a way that the heel of the handle grips pointed directly at Curt’s right hand and holster. It was obvious that the sergeant had been a gunsmith before he enlisted in the SS. Curt lifted his weapon with care and placed it in the leather holster on his right hip. He nodded to the soldiers in the room, gave them an open-palmed salute, and then proceeded toward the waiting car.

As Curt proceeded down the marble laden stairs, he stopped to light a cigarette. After suffocating the flame of the lighter by the flick of his thumb, Curt looked up to see the blood flag, or Blutfshne. There, in front of him, was the biggest flag he had ever seen tethered to a fifty-foot flag pole. The flag was blood red—except in the center, there was a white circle surrounding a black swastika. As Curt brought his eyes down to ground level, he could see the black car. The car guarded by a driver and rifleman. This vehicle was a Luftwaffe staff car; the standard placement for passengers was to seat two persons in the front driver’s cab and put the officers and passengers in the second partitioned cab. Both front and back were reinforced with bulletproof windows and doors, and the chassis was bombproof. The roof of the vehicle was metal; however, some of these cars had been made with cut-out roofs and canvas inserts. They had been used in hot summer months for cooling and then for events like parades and campaigning. Curt walked up to the rear cab without saying a word, opened the door, and got in the black seat. Both driver and rifleman hopped into the front driver’s cab and drove the Daimler Mercedes-Benz away.

The car sped out of the Munichen Commercial and Cultural Center. The highway that the driver chose was the Autobahn, even though it was still under construction; this way, they could make it to Berlin within ten hours. Zorn was only another half hour to the east. There would still be some checkpoints along the way, but by driving in a fully-dressed-officer staff car, the stops would not be bothersome and would surely be brief.

Zorn

Curt fell into the soft leather bench-seat as if it was a sofa or bed. He tossed his helmet on the carpeted floor and stripped the tie from around his neck. He threw the tie inside the helmet and laid down with one foot raised on the seat, the other planted flat on the floor. As the driver shifted transmission gears, the car began to rock and bounce. The rocking motion put Curt fast to sleep.

About every two hours, the car would slowdown for checkpoints on the Autobahn. Once, a guard actually made the vehicle stop to see who was in the back seat. After shining a flashlight on Curt’s face, the guard nodded and waved the sleek automobile onward. After reaching the outskirts of Berlin, the driver drove the car off the Autobahn and onto a narrow service road. The road had barely enough room to afford two cars going in opposite directions.

It was becoming daylight, and the driver could see the sun cresting on the horizon. The weather was clear, and it was a beautiful day. Now, the newly asphalted road arched around a small lake. The reflection of the morning sun on the water flashed a burst of light through the car window and into Curt’s closed eyes. He blinked his eyes open and stared at the bright sunshine. Leaning forward, he pressed his nose lightly against the window and peered out. Curt thought to himself what a colorful view it all was and wished he had a camera to capture the moment. He leaned toward the driver’s side of front seat and tapped his knuckles against the glass window separating him from the front cab. He reached down to his helmet and picked up his tie. He began to put it around his neck.

Curt asked the two strangers who were piloting the car, Excuse me, gentlemen, but are we close to our destination?

Oh, we are almost there, Captain. It shouldn’t take us long now. Maybe another five kilometers or so, the SS chauffeur responded.

The young captain stared through the rear window and saw what looked like large gray birds sailing through the air. He squinted his eyes to see better.

What the hell are those kind of birds? Are they eagles or condors? he asked himself. As he looked more closely he could see that those birds were really some sort of aircraft. They just didn’t have propellers or markings of any type.

Gliders. Yes, that’s it. Gliders. Amazing. They are so beautiful. Just look at them sail through the air like birds. There’s a lot of them. There must be ten or more, just flying around in a V-like formation. How natural, yet at the same time, how disturbing. Why is the formation so perfect? Curt said to himself.

The driver downshifted the transmission to third gear so the car would slow down. Curt turned from the rear window view and looked out the front window in between the passenger and the driver. He could see in the forefront a group of buildings in a leveled area, one kilometer down the road. Then, they passed a small traffic sign with one word posted on it: Zorn.

Now they came upon the military complex built in the rural valley. It looked like some sort of prison complex constructed in the middle of nowhere. There was a ten-meter perimeter with a barbed-wire fence encircling the base. Thirty-meter-tall guard towers were stationed strategically every three hundred meters on the perimeter. That was to allow for deadly crossfire on enemy intruders who might penetrate the first defense of this Luftwaffe Air Base. It was an impressive layout that was sure to have surprising hidden defenses within and which were not visible to the naked eye.

The first checkpoint they encountered was manned by Luftwaffe guards (air weapon guards). Their uniforms were made of medium-blue cotton, and their coats were a one-piece type that buttoned down the center. They were wearing soft wool Glengarry hats, which were sitting lengthwise on top of their heads. The uniforms did not have the intimidating appearance of those worn by the SS, but they were striking in their own way.

Are you attachés to Curt von Wolfsberg? We recognize our staff car. If you can show me your orders, you may pass. You must go to Building number 4 to get to intelligence headquarters. Papers please, requested the young Luftwaffe military policeman.

In compliance with the request, Curt reached inside his coat pocket and retrieved his orders then