Eva (15 page)

The flames were scorching hot on her face. Willi tried to protect her with his own body as best he could as they scrambled over the rubble through the mass of desperate rodents. The terror-maddened creatures—their long, savage teeth exposed in fury and fear, tinged yellow-red by the flames—fought them for every foothold among the debris.

Through the smoke Willi saw the hazy figure of Bormann. Like an apparition from hell he stood waiting for them. He reached out and pulled Eva the last few feet away from the fiery fall-in.

Their own frenzy almost as great as that of the rats, together they ran down the sewer tunnel. They were aware of the panic-stricken rats everywhere around them. Tiny pinpoint eyes shone red with reflected light as the beasts stared at them and scurried out of their way into the trash and filth at the edges of the drain.

Suddenly there was a loud, rumbling crash behind them.

They turned to look.

The ruin above had thundered into the sewer, filling the break with burning debris, sealing the tunnel behind them.

It was exactly 0227 hours, May 1, 1945 when they finally stood before the walled-up exit point—two hours later than their estimated time of arrival.

“The fuse is located four feet up from the ground,
Obersturmführer,”
Bormann said. “In the center. Behind the mortar. There is a small pickaxe in your rucksack. Use it.”

Willi nodded. He shrugged out of his rucksack and pulled the little tool from a side pocket. It was actually a mountain climber’s hammer, the long, slender head pointed at one end, blunt at the other. The rucksack contained other items borrowed from mountaineering: matches in a watertight metal cylinder, and, of course, the heavy woolen socks.

Bormann and Eva took cover a short distance down the conduit.

Eva shivered. Now that deliverance from the dreadful place was near, the oppressive confines seemed to press in on her a hundredfold. She eagerly anticipated being able to climb out into the open.

Willi came running back to them. “Cover your ears!” he called.

Hardly breathing, they waited.

The sewer was deadly quiet—except for the sounds of distant battle that filtered down to them from above.

They waited.

Eva felt herself tense. Could thirty seconds seem like a lifetime? Why was it taking so long? Had something gone wrong? Had the fuse gone out? Or was the explosive wet? She didn’t even know if that made a difference. But sweet Joseph, Maria, why didn’t the charge go off? Fearfully she turned to Willi. She started to speak . . .

Suddenly the explosion rocked the sewer, ripping the silence asunder. The roar rolled down the conduit in disappearing thunder—and once again the sewer was quiet.

They ran to the exit point. Dust was heavy in the air, settling slowly. They all held their lanterns aloft and peered into the huge, black hole that gaped open in the sewer wall. Bormann flicked on his flashlight. They crowded up to the opening, and Bormann aimed the beam of his torch into the blackness beyond.

Eva’s hand flew to her mouth. Involuntarily she gave a little cry.

About ten meters into the branch sewer a solid wall of stone, brick, and rubble totally blocked the conduit.

It would be impossible for them to dig out.

They stood in stupefied silence. Suddenly stripped of hope they stared at the massive blockage.

Their plight was clear to them all. Before them a solid wall of building-stone rubble, behind them the fiery barrier caused by the Russian barrage.

They were trapped.

W
ILLI RAN UP
to the massive obstruction. He pulled and tugged and pushed at the chunks of masonry; he climbed up the jagged embankment and probed at broken cement slabs and bulky sections of brickwork. He returned to Eva and Bormann.

“
Herr Reichsleiter,”
he said soberly, “we will not be able to get out this way. What is your alternate plan?”

Bormann stared at him. “Alternate—plan?” he repeated.

“Yes,
Herr Reichsleiter.
What is the secondary plan in case the primary plan had to be aborted?” He looked at Bormann who stood staring awkwardly at him.
Unbelievable,
he thought. Every first-week commando recruit knew that a mission
always
had to have an alternate plan. It was the A of ABC.

“There is no alternate plan,” Bormann said shortly. He was annoyed. The whole damned sewer escape
was
his alternate plan. He had, of course, thought that Hitler would go to Berchtesgaden. And he would go with him. Right up until the last possible moment he had thought that. Any sensible man would have gone. All had been placed in readiness for the Führer. He had seen to it himself. But no. The Führer had delayed, and delayed until it was too late and he, Bormann, now had to use his “secondary plan” in order to escape from Berlin. He had never really expected to have to use it. But that was none of that insufferable young SS officer’s affair. “We will
have
to get out this way,” he finished curtly.

Willi shook his head. “Impossible,
Herr Reichsleiter.
We must find another way out. This one is sealed without any possibility of breaking through.” He frowned in thought. “A hundred meters or so back we passed a junction with a branch sewer. We will have to try there.”

“How?” Bormann protested. “It is walled up, too. Solidly. There is no way we can get through there.”

“We will have to try.”

“It would take days. Weeks. If we can dig through it at all,” Bormann objected. “We do not have that kind of time.”

Willi looked him squarely in the eyes. “Yes,
Herr Reichsleiter,”
he said smartly. “
Zu Befehl, Herr Reichsleiter
—at your orders. What do you wish me to do?”

Bormann glared at the young officer. Without a word Willi turned on his heel and stalked back down the conduit toward the walled-up junction behind them.

The diameter of the branch sewer was about two-thirds that of the main. The opening was sealed with a solid brick wall.

Willi used his mountaineering hammer to tap on the wall, probing different spots.

The barrier was forbiddingly solid.

“We will have to blast,” Willi said. “It is our only chance.”

“What with?” Bormann snapped impatiently. “We have no explosives. The only place a charge was set was at the prepared exit point.”

“Yes,
Herr Reichleiter,”
Willi said. He did not bother to explain to Bormann what he had in mind. “If the
Herr Reichsleiter
will permit, I think I have a way to get us through.”

He looked questioningly at Bormann. He received only a disapproving scowl in return. He went up to the wall. He selected a spot in the middle of the barrier where two bricks abutted one another with a third overlaid. He began to chip away at the hardened mortar in the cracks. He turned to Bormann.

“
Herr Reichsleiter,”
he said, “I need a hole chipped out in the wall right here. About four centimeters in diameter, and as deep as you can make it.”

He handed the hammer to Bormann. Without waiting for any acknowledgment he turned to Eva.

“
Frau
Hitler,” he said, “I need your help too, if you please.”

“Of course.”

“Take one of the woolen socks from my rucksack. Try to unravel the yarn as best you can. Then take three strands and braid them tightly. Make a length of braid about one meter long.”

Puzzled she look at him. “I will do it,” she said.

Willi collected the three rucksacks. He was aware of Bormann hacking and chipping at the wall. At least the man would make a start.

Each pack contained the same set of items. There was a Walther 7.65 and a box of ammunition. A first-aid kit. The matches in their waterproof cylinder. Wire clippers. The woolen socks. Army rations. A change of underwear. There was also a compass. Willi had taken his out and put it in his pocket.

Quickly he selected several key items from the rucksacks and placed them on an undershirt on the ground. The wire clippers. All three boxes of ammo. A roll of adhesive tape from the first-aid kit. And one of the match containers. He removed the screw top and emptied the container of matches.

Using his wire clippers as awkward pliers he pried off the lead bullets from the cartridges of all the extra rounds and poured the powder into the metal cylinder that had contained the matches. He was halfway through the third box when Eva came up to him. She held out a braided string.

“Will this do?” she asked.

“
Prima!”
he said. “First class!” He pointed to Bormann, chipping away at the brick wall. “Now. Please collect a couple of handfuls of the mortar the
Herr Reichsleiter
is chipping loose. Knead it with water until you have a thick dough.”

Eva nodded. With only a glance at her manicured hands, she quickly walked over to Bormann.

Willi finished the last box of ammo and poured the powder into the metal match cylinder. It was not quite full. He wanted it full. As powerful a charge as he could get. He would have only one chance. He removed the clip from the Walther 7.65 in his own rucksack. He would not need the gun. He had his P-38 in its holster on his belt. He did not touch the full clips in the guns in the packs of Eva and Bormann.

He looked up as the sound of distant explosions rumbled through the sewer. Enemy artillery, he thought, laying down a barrage. We are still under German-held territory. He returned to his task.

He quickly removed the bullets from the additional rounds and poured the powder into his container. It was now full.

With the wire clippers he cut a pie-shaped piece out of the match container lid and screwed it back onto the cylinder. He walked over to Bormann who was still chipping away at the wall. Already he had a good-sized hole chiseled out.

Willi tried the powder-filled cylinder in the hole. A ridge on one side prevented it from slipping all the way in.

“Chip that obstacle away,” he told Bormann. As the
Reichsleiter
set to work, Willi took the braided string from Eva. He soaked it in kerosene from one of the lamps and inserted one end of it through the clipped lid into the powder in the match container, fastening it with adhesive tape from the first-aid kit.

Bormann stood away from the wall, and Willi placed the makeshift explosive charge in the hole. It went all the way in. He turned to Eva.

“May I have the mud, please?”

Eva held out her cupped hands. A thick, paste-like mixture of mortar, dirt, and water lay in them. Willi used it to tamp the charge firmly into the hole, leaving only a small opening from which the braided fuse hung down the wall. He lit a match.

“Better take cover,” he said. “I don’t know how long this fuse will burn.”

He waited until they had run down the tunnel a short distance. Then he lit the kerosene-soaked braid.

It flared up. At once Willy raced away. He had taken only a few steps when the explosion blasted the quiet in the conduit. The shock force caught him in the back; he lost his balance and fell sprawling to the bottom of the sewer.

As the thundering sound of the detonation rumbled down the tunnel he sat up. Eva came running.

“Are you all right?” she cried solicitously.

He smiled up at her. “I am,” he said. “Thank you.”

He stood up. The dust was settling as they walked back to the wall.

A jagged hole about two feet in diameter had been blasted in the brickwork. Bormann shone his flashlight into it. The hole was about twelve inches deep before it was blocked by a wall of chipped and scarred bricks!

Stunned, they stood staring at it. Willi thought quickly. If a second blast had to be set off to break all the way through, they would have to use all their ammunition from all their guns to succeed. If. If they could blast through at all. And they would be left without any protection once they got out.

He reached into the hole. He pushed with all his might at the piece of wall still blocking the hole. It did not budge. He turned to Bormann.

“Give me the hammer,” he said.

Bormann handed it to him.

Using it as a little battering ram Willi pounded on the bricks, to no avail. He glared at it as if to look through it. How thick
was
it? Was there a cave-in behind it? he wondered bleakly. Is the damned conduit filled up with rubble? As the other one was? If only he could give it a few good whacks with a little power behind them. Find out. But how? What he needed was a real battering ram. A piece of wood. An iron bar, like the one he found before. He looked around. As far as he could see in the dim light the tunnel was empty of anything useful. He tried to recall. Had he seen anything as they walked by before? He remembered nothing. But there was another way. He turned to Bormann. He contemplated the stocky man.

“
Herr Reichsleiter,”
he said, “with your permission, I will need your help. We must try to knock down the remaining obstacle. And we have to use a—a battering ram.”

“There is nothing like that here,” Bormann said.