Churchill's Ace (Epic War Series Book 1) (32 page)

After the stand down was official for the day, Zigfried walked along the tarmac as his fifth kill was painted on the tail of his Me 109. Soon Colonel Dunkel stood by his side. “Congratulations Captain Bockler. By all accounts, the raid was a success. It seems that I was wrong about you.”

“What does that mean? You thought Wolf Kruger was fit for the job. Or was he your favorite?”

“Watch your words, Captain. You go too far.”

Zigfried moved closer to Colonel Dunkel. “Colonel, I’m the first Nazi ace in the Luftwaffe. What do you think that means?”

“I suppose you’ll be famous. But that doesn’t…”

“Forgive me, Colonel. We can both make JAG 23 the most honored squadron in the Luftwaffe. It doesn’t matter if that is true. And what will that hurt? We have done our part.” Zigfried raised his voice. “I have done my part. And what of Wolf Kruger.”

“Captain Kruger.”

“All he did was get shot down. What use is a dead ace to the Luftwaffe?”

“Don’t be confident. When you’re up there, anything can happen at any time. We could have two dead aces.”

“I don’t think so. You will inform high command of my achievement and the Propaganda Ministry as well. I will be taken out of frontline duty for a period of time.”

“You mean to be a tool of Propaganda Ministry.”

“The Third Reich needs heroes. The Third Reich needs me.”

Colonel Dunkel tried to hold his ground. “And if I refuse?”

Zigfried’s face morphed into a sinister look. “The untimely deaths of Wolf Kruger’s parents were no accident.”

“What!”

“I expect to leave at first light for Berlin. Thank you for the little chat... Colonel.”

Zigfried saluted and walked away. Colonel Dunkel looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. “Nazi bastard.”

* * *

Wolf cleared the Channel and took the Mosquito up to 28600 feet. The sleek twin-engine plane was the best high altitude fighter-bomber plane in the world. The Luftwaffe lacked any ground weapon that could reach that high. The only true danger Wolf and Randolph faced was a mechanical breakdown and the attack run on “Hitler’s Gallery,” at 12 Wilhelmstrasse.

Randolph acted as navigator for the mission, and he simply put the Mosquito on a straight run toward Berlin. He opened the envelope that Winston gave him. “Let’s see what else Winston has in store for us.” He looked at the contents. “Low-level reconnaissance at the Luftwaffe test airfield at Rechlin. Have you ever been there?”

“No, but it’s the Luftwaffe’s main testing grounds for new aircraft designs.” Wolf laughed, “You know how to work the cameras on this thing?”

“Just click. What about the attack run in Berlin?”

Wolf eased up on the controls as the Mosquito cut through the sky, leaving contrails in its wake. “We will come in from the east. Wilhelmstrasse is extremely wide, maybe eight lanes. More than enough to dip down and attack the building head on. 12 Wilhelmstrasse is at the end of the boulevard, where it T’s. That why we’re going to use rockets.”

“What about wires going across the street?”

“Everything is underground.”

“How do you all of this?”

“The university that my parents taught at is close by. I know the area very well.”

Randolph smirked. “And now you fly for the RAF.”

“You can’t have everything in life. And don’t worry I’m keen as Winston might say, in saying hello to the Nazis inside the art gallery.”

Madeline found Lady Margaret conscious for the first time since she was pulled out of the rubble at the Royal Hancock Theatre. Lady Margaret was in a ward with other female patients. One arm was broken and in a cast. Her right leg was heavily bandaged but had survived the bomb blast and the collapse of the ceiling with minor damage. That was more than a godsend because a huge wood beam had fallen inches away from her legs.

She was one of the lucky ones. Lady Margaret’s head was propped up on a pillow and an IV was hooked up to her unbroken arm. Her face was bruised and she had a black eye. When she saw Madeline, she smiled and then cried. Madeline went over to her and carefully gave her a kiss and held her hand. “Oh, mother.”

“I don’t remember much. I was watching the rehearsal to the new musical with Harry. It was going to be a lovely play. The critics would have thought it funny and the audience, no doubt charming.”

Madeline said softly, “I’m sure.”

“Harold is dead, isn’t he.”

“I’m afraid so. Not many made it out. It was horrific.”

“My dear, how do you know?”

“You don’t remember do you?”

“No.”

Madeline’s face now took on a look of determination. “I was the one who found you.”

“You did?”

“When the bombs hit the theatre, I came over from 10 Downing. James drove like a madman to get me to the Royal Hancock.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Madeline squeezed her mother’s hand a bit tighter. “You don’t have to say anything. Now, get some rest, and I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Madeline kissed her mother and left the ward. Lady Margaret looked at her hand and saw the seven-carat ring that Harold Ickes had given her. She whimpered and closed her eyes.

When the Mosquito passed over Hanover, Berlin was less than 100 miles away. Wolf kept the Mosquito at altitude. He wanted to descend the plane for the attack on the 12 Wilhelmstrasse at the last possible moment. Randolph studied a map that was on his lap. “Seventeen minutes and then you’re turning south and then down the boulevard. If you can find it.”

“It’ll be lit up like it’s Christmas. The war hasn’t come to Germany yet.”

“I guess that will soon change. It’s only one plane, though.”

Wolf smirked, “With eight rockets.”

Seventeen minutes later Wolf changed headings and started a steep descent toward the government district of Berlin. He was right; the district and the entire city were ringed with bright lights. The Reichstag, which was the former seat of the German government, was bathed in lights.

Wolf flew straight over it and down Wilhelmstrasse Boulevard. He fingered the control of the rockets. His plan was to release four rockets on the first pass while Randolph fired the four machine guns in the nose of the Mosquito and the four 20 mm cannons under the pilot’s cockpit.

The Mosquito roared down the boulevard and was just above the rooflines of the three-story government buildings which lined the street. The art gallery was at the dead end of the boulevard, where Wilhelmstrasse ended. At three hundred yards Wolf nosed the Mosquito slightly down and fired four rockets in rapid succession.

That was the cue for Randolph to fire the machine guns and cannons.

Inside the art gallery, numerous Nazi donors and party officials had gathered. Champagne was flowing and the dignitaries engaged in small talk as if there wasn’t a problem in the world. Doctor Bockler was among them. He wore a tailored dark suit that he was told by his Nazi friends looked very professional and fitting for a man of his stature. A Nazi pin was on his lapel.

The roaring of the twin engines of the Mosquito would have been the first thing heard by those assembled inside the art gallery, if not for the launching of the rockets. The rockets were on their way toward the massive plate glass windows of the art gallery.

Of the four rockets that were launched, two missed wide and impacted on a row of parked cars. Another rocket entered the art gallery at the very top of the plate glass window. When it exploded glass and shards of concrete and metal ripped through the floor space.

The final rocket impacted on the sidewalk in front of the building and created a racket but not much damage. The machine gun and cannon fire had walked its way up Wilhelmstrasse and finally into the art gallery as the Mosquito angled in for the attack.

The blistering shells ripped into the standing art exhibits by the entrance to the gallery. A dozen Nazi supporters were struck. Some received superficial wounds and fell onto the marble floor or into the art exhibits behind them.

Two or three men by the front door took direct hits in the upper body. Blood splattered and the head that belonged to an industrialist who specialized in making canteens and shovels for the Third Reich exploded from a direct hit by a 20 mm shell.

Doctor Bockler was in the middle of the gallery, admiring a serene outdoor painting by the Fuhrer when the commotion started. He was also contemplating his next round of experiments to be performed on a set of young female twins.

The experiment which he was quite excited about would include the amputation of one twin’s ear and the grafting of it to the other twin’s arm. This would perhaps give vital information if the identical genetic disposition of both subjects would indeed make the graft successful.

The surgery would have to be done without anesthesia to eliminate a variable. That didn’t bother Doctor Bockler in the least. The same could be said for the twin girls whose bone-chilling screams would harmlessly bounce off the walls of his macabre medical facility.

Doctor Bockler now had his own problems, as machine gun fire from the Mosquito ripped into both of his legs. He fell head first into one of Hitler’s paintings, which was of a French Chateau. Smoke poured from the gallery and people trampled over each other in their panic to get away. Doctor Bockler withered in pain and screamed for help. He was on his own.

Wolf pulled up, easily cleared the two story building and turned to the right. He circled over the Reichstag and lined up for another run. Wolf was in a trance as he flew the Mosquito down the Wilhelmstrasse. Randolph watched in amazement as Wolf’s second run was dead on. As soon as Wolf released the final four rockets, Randolph fired a long burst from the Mosquito’s cannons and machine guns.

Doctor Bockler pulled himself along the floor toward the front door. Pieces of glass on the floor tore through what was left of his suit pants, leaving a trail of blood. Doctor Bockler looked through the shattered door front and saw the Mosquito thundering down the Wilhelmstrasse.

It was like a surreal monster belching fire and reaching for him. But in reality, death was at his doorstep. The Frankenstein doctor who treated his test subjects like guinea pigs or rats, whose only value was to have knives stuck into them or limbs sawed off, was the same as any other coward who looked death in the face. He begged for mercy which was a trait that only moments before, he saw as a weakness.

Three of the four 50 lb rockets impacted inside the art gallery. The rear wall was blown out. The Nazi art gallery now resembled a defeated war zone. Doctor Bockler was hit by a 20 mm cannon shell that severed his right leg at the knee. The leg spun in the air and landed near his head. But he was still alive.

The human body can endure significant damage before it succumbs to the grim reaper. Specifically, if the head and vital organs are intact, the body will soldier on. The heart and kidneys don’t care if you’re missing a finger or two, or a right leg, as in Doctor Bockler’s case.

The missing right leg of the quack doctor was rather poignant since his steel saw had relieved many of his test subjects of their vital limbs. Once his experiments had been concluded, he simply would have the tortured patients exterminated by inserting a needle of chloroform into their hearts. That was a method better suited to killing a helpless or sick animal...not a human being.

So Doctor Bockler suffered for a precious few more moments, as the flames from the second rocket attack lapped up against his body. Slowly he smelled the burning flesh of what was left of his leg. No longer could he drag himself. In any case, there wasn’t anywhere to go. He was in the middle of a circle of flames that with every passing second tightened around him.

He cried when his head caught fire. Doctor Bockler’s gray hair and scalp melted from the searing inferno. He tried to turn away in a futile attempt of self-preservation. His right eye was burned. It sizzled and dripped down his blackened cheeks. Now his heart was racing, but none of his technicians from the medical center were there to record the data from the extreme paces his failing body was going thru.

He gasped for air as his lungs failed. The bone structure of his head slowed up the flames for a moment, which only prolonged the agony. Death finally came when his carotid artery burned and blood gushed out from the side of his neck. Doctor Bockler, the medical “genius” from the Frankfurt Institute for Hereditary Biology and Race Hygiene, would never salute the Fuhrer again, or stick a knife into a set of identical twins. Instead, he was on the fast track to hell.

The Mosquito pulled up and left Berlin as fast as it had arrived. The attack was so sudden that the city had little idea as to what happened. Smoke whiffed into the air from the burning shell that was 12 Wilhelmstrasse. In the coming years, Berlin would see more smoke and destruction that came from the sky.

Barely fifteen minutes later Wolf and Randolph were over open countryside and well on their way to the Luftwaffe’s modern flight testing grounds at Rechlin. The sun was going down and Wolf regained altitude and opened the throttle. Rechin was less than 100 miles from Berlin. The facility was located on the shores of the Lake Muritzsee.

The surrounding area was quaint and quiet. It was a place where Germans would go to get away from the throngs of people in Berlin. The Rechlin airfield was the technology testing center for the Luftwaffe. Every fighter and bomber brought in the Luftwaffe’s arsenal had first passed muster at the facility.

Wolf brought in the Mosquito from the north and the three reconnaissance cameras mounted on the underbelly of the wooden wonder, started taking still photographs of the area. Randolph was the first one to see the exceptionally long runway at the airfield. He immediately told Wolf, “Wow, I’ve never seen anything like that. The runway goes on forever. Why is that? I got the pictures... home.”

“I’m going down for a look.” Wolf took the Mosquito over the lake, turned and did a low-level fly-by of the airfield. There were anti-aircraft batteries along the edge of the airfield, but they were either unmanned or the soldiers manning them were caught watching the sunset. Parked by the hangar was a plane that no one outside of the Rechlin testing facility had ever seen.