Chapter Five.

In his office, SS-Hauptsturmführer Hans Collani picked up the telephone and spoke a few soft orders into the mouthpiece. Within no more than five minutes, there was a knock on his door, and a young SS-Hauptsturmführer entered. He wore an immaculately pressed, black denim drill uniform… the shapeless "Drillichanzug." He wore no insignia other than his rank on his left collar... three silver pips and two silver stripes on a black collar patch. The aroma of gunpowder and oil clung to him. Strangely enough, it wasn't unpleasant. He came to attention before Wolff and Collani, and gave a slovenly Hitlergruss. Collani spoke:

'Werner, stand easy. I would like to introduce you to Fräulein Doktor Karyn von Seringen. We would be obliged if you could introduce her to the niceties of the Walther PPK.'

Werner Schütt was the small-arms instructor at the Lichterfelde Kaserne. What he didn't know about pistols really wasn't worth worrying about. Karyn would want for nothing in his instruction. Wolff rummaged in the Attaché case and brought out the little holstered Walther, which he handed to Schütt. Taking the pistol out of the shoulder holster, Schütt snapped back the slide and peered into the chamber. Quietly, almost under his breath, he said just one word…

'Scheisse!'

And carefully ejected the round that lay in the chamber. Looking at Wolff and Collani, he spoke.

'A real stopper! Chambered to take Walther PP 9mm Kurz… ninety-five grains load, but… if we take the load up to one hundred and fifteen grains it will be bloody lethal at forty metres with no real increase in recoil. So, Fräulein Doktor von Seringen; let us proceed to the range and see what you can do.'

As they walked across the Kaserne compound towards the newly extended, southern part of the complex, Schütt chatted, seemingly idly… but very cautiously; choosing his words carefully. This girl had powerful contacts. He hadn't quite figured out what this was all about, but the very presence of SS-Gruppenführer Wolff showed this was something quite out of the ordinary.

They crossed the closed-off section of the old Altendorfer Strasse, which was now part of the complex leading down to the old main Kaserne entrance where the great stone pillar, topped by a huge Reichsadler Eagle, and flagstaff flying a blood-red Hakenkreuzfahne now stood; and entered the long, two storey, small bore range. Schütt stood Karyn at the firing line of the lower range, and set the cardboard targets in place. These were the standard "Zielscheibe mit menschlichen umrissen" targets, shaped like the head and torso of an assailant. They were universally known in the Armed Forces as "Pappkameraden"... "Cardboard Friends."

The duty SS-Oberscharführer took one of the Walther magazines away to increase the grain load of the cartridges in accordance with Werner Schütt's suggestion. Schütt lifted the Walther PPK and showed Karyn the stable, two-handed, automatic pistol hold. He explained it thus:

'With the two-handed, auto pistol hold, the supporting hand is cupped over the strong hand, with fingers laid over those gripping the pistol to form a platform under the trigger guard. The thumb of the supporting hand is placed over or alongside that of the strong hand. The supporting hand's thumb must not be placed across the back of the wrist of the strong hand where it can be struck by the cycling of the slide during firing.'

Having demonstrated the stable two-handed automatic pistol hold several times, and satisfied himself that she could accomplish it correctly; he gave Karyn an apologetic smile.

'I shall now explain all you need to know concerning this weapon. It may be tedious, but it just might save your life.'

He then proceeded to explain the workings of the little pistol to Karyn. When he was satisfied that she had understood his instruction; he slipped a fresh magazine into the PPK, and after checking the safety was "on," handed the little pistol to Karyn.

'OK, Fräulein Doktor, let's see what you can do.'

Karyn held the pistol in her right hand; muzzle pointing to the heavily insulated ceiling of the range, and, as Schütt had shown her, flicked the safety lever up with her thumb. With her left hand, she pulled the slide back, chambering a round. Still pointing the muzzle towards the ceiling, she cupped her left hand around her right, in the two-handed, auto pistol hold, just as she had been shown. She then brought her arms down, pointing the PPK down range; took careful aim, breathed out, and squeezed the trigger. The little PPK crashed, and the recoil lifted the weapon about five millimetres. A large hole had appeared in the cardboard "Pappkamerad," some twelve metres distant, down-range from the firing line. Karyn gave a little nervous laugh,

'I hit it! I actually hit it!'

Werner Schütt gave a grin,

'Of course you did. That little PPK is, as I said; inherently accurate. Now, try again, five rounds, rapid fire. As the recoil lifts the pistol, bring it back onto target with a smooth follow-through. Now… Shoot!'

Following his instructions, Karyn managed to put four out of the five rounds through the target in rapid succession, with the ejected cartridge cases tinkling merrily around her feet. On the last shot, as she pulled the trigger… the slide stayed back, and the pistol was empty. She released the two-handed grip, and pushed the magazine release button, deftly catching the empty magazine as it slipped down out of the butt of the pistol.

The sound of applause came from behind her. She turned, and there stood Wolff, Collani, and… Sepp Dietrich himself; still dressed in his oil-stained racing overalls emblazoned with a Round Tyre badge embroidered with the words: "Continental Reifen." He was dragging a "Netzcopfhaube" flying helmet off his head, and wore a pair of Luftwaffe "Uvex" flight goggles pulled down around his throat.

His face was blackened, except for where his goggles had protected his face from the oil and tyre dust as he had hurtled around the AVUS in his grand prix racing, 3.4 litre Mercedes-Benz W25B... the old spare car of Manfred von Brauchitsch, Works driver for Mercedes-Benz. This W25B had secured fifth place at V Internationales Avus-Rennen on 26th May 1935, and Dietrich had an agreement with Mercedes Benz that now, it was his personal toy.

Josef "Sepp" Dietrich, Kommandant of the Berlin-Lichterfelde Kaserne der Leibstandarte-SS Adolf Hitler stood behind her; a great beaming smile on his hard… some might say, brutal face, and said,

'Nicely done, Liebchen; now try these.'

He handed a magazine to Karyn, who looked him straight in the eye, and clicked the magazine into the Walther. So, these were the rounds whose loads had been increased to 115 grains. The duty SS-Oberscharführer gave Karyn a tiny wink and a nod as he stood behind the Officers. She took the firing position once again, chambered a round, and aimed at the distant cardboard target that Werner Schütt had set, some thirty-five metres down-range. She squeezed the trigger. The Little PPK went off with a crash like a cannon. She kept squeezing the trigger until the slide locked back. When the smoke cleared, all that was left of the cardboard "Pappkamerad" were rags and tatters. Six shots… all hits. Werner Schütt called to the Duty SS-Oberscharführer…

'Jesu, Willi… those rounds were the hundred and fifteen grains load?'

The young SS-Oberscharführer laughed,

'Jawohl, Hauptsturmführer. 9mm Kurz Specials, with a delivery like a brick through a plate-glass window! The load charge is the fine-grain NP-Pulver with added penta-erythrite-tetra-nitrate from Die Waffenfabrik Treptow der Gustav Genschow und Co, AG, down on Hoffmannstrasse. They sent me half a kilo on trial, and this is the first chance I've had to use any.'

Sepp Dietrich stood with his hands on his hips, appraising this pretty, blonde slip of a girl. He had watched carefully, as she emptied the little PPK. True, she had flinched when she squeezed off the first round... the crash that the first round had made as it was fired was enough to make anyone flinch, but she had swiftly composed herself. She was a natural... and with Werner Schütt's guidance... well, he certainly wouldn't want to face this classic "Deutsches Mädchen" of "Das Herrenvolk"… not if she was pointing the little PPK at him.

Wolff was smiling. Fräulein Doktor Karyn Helle von Seringen was certainly made of sterner stuff than first glance would have anyone believe. He was still concerned about sending her into the wilds of the Belarusian Soviet Socialist Republic, but at least, she now knew how to use the little PPK that he had insisted that she carried. Turning to Wolff, Dietrich laughed,

'I see you've actually had the weapon re-gripped with the brand-new Walther Party Leader/Political Leader pistol grips that have the Hoheitsabzeichen Eagle of the NSDAP... Adolf's Tin Chicken moulded into the tops of the grips where normally, the "Walther" banner would be. Typical bloody Personal Staff of the Reichsheini swank! They're not even available yet!'

Werner Schütt spoke again. He face was serious. This was obviously important for him to interrupt Dietrich. Turning to Karyn, he spoke carefully.

'One should carry only hollow point ammunition in a defensive handgun. "Jacketed hollow points" usually expand and stop in the human body, and thus, your attacker absorbs much more of the bullet's kinetic energy than if the bullet had merely punched through him and left two small holes. You are safer because your attacker is more likely to be incapacitated after one or two shots and thus unable to fire back, stab you, or do whatever he had intended to do to you.

Turning to Wolff, he asked,

'Gruppenführer; I see that this weapon is identified with "RZM" Reichzeugmeisterei stamp. This denotes that this PPK was an "Ehrenwaffe" pistol. None of these weapons were anything other than standard 7.65mm calibre. This one is, as we have established, re- chambered to 9mm. What is its modification history?'

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Wolff smiled,

'You certainly know your firearms, Hauptsturmführer. This is the "Ehrenwaffe" pistol given to me by Himmler the year after I became his Adjutant in '33. When I was in Munich last year, I took this weapon up to the Waffenfabrik Carl Walther factory in Zella-Mehlis, Thuringia. There, I was shown around the factory by Georg Walther; one of the sons of the Founder. I asked him what was the best calibre PPK; and he said, as far as they were concerned, it was 9mm. He said they could convert my "Ehrenwaffe" PPK, and would be honoured to do so.

As you will see, he also had the weapon re-gripped with the new Party Leader/ Political Leader grips. He informed me that these "PL" Grips would not be available until next year, and would be introduced by letter from the Company to the Reichorganzationsleiter immediately prior to their availability. This was obviously an ingratiation on Herr Walther's part because of my rank, but it would have been boorish for me to decline. Besides which, not only did he have the weapon re-chambered; he specified that the recoil spring be exchanged for a much stronger one, so that the recoil would remain at an acceptable level. He then had the weapon re-proofed. He also gave me a prototype box extension magazine that extends the grip and can hold up to two further rounds.'

Wolff looked at Dietrich,

'The only slight concern I have, is with the "PL" grips. Should we send Karyn into Russia with these fitted, or should we get Schütt to replace them with the standard Walther grips? D'you think the Hoheitsabzeichen insignia will draw too much attention to her?'

Dietrich nodded,

'Good point Karl, but I think, seeing Adolf's Tin Chicken will make them think twice before they try any funny business. What d'you think, Liebchen? Are you happy to go amongst the "Untermenschen," as my old pal, "The Reichsheini" would call them; under the banner of Adolf's Tin Chicken?'

Karyn had never heard such talk. But then… Dietrich was of the common man, in spite of his SS Rank. Before his meteoric rise to power, he had been an apprentice butcher before the War. Then he had been a waiter, a policeman; a foreman, a farm labourer; a petrol station attendant, and a customs officer. Bravely, she struggled to keep a straight face. At last, she succumbed, and laughed with the rest of them.

'I'm fine with the Tin Chicken, Herr Obergruppenführer.'

Dietrich smiled and nodded,

'Gutes Mädchen'… 'Good Girl.'

He turned to leave; then threw a final comment over his shoulder to Wolff and Schütt;

'Now, I must go, and get out of these overalls, and take a shower. I've had a crap day on the AVUS. I could only get the Merc' up to two-forty on the Nord-Parallelstrasse, and her blower was gasping and wheezing like some old fart trying to screw a five-mark snapper up in The Alex.'

"The Alex," on the southern edge of Berlin's most notorious slum district known as Das Scheunenviertel; was a ten-block, bleak slum to the north-east of Alexanderplatz, not far from the brooding, five-storey Polizeipräsidium; and bounded by a rough square formed by Hirtenstrasse, Münzstrasse; Grenadierstrasse and Prenzlauerstrasse. It contained a large Jewish population, a high proportion of migrants from Eastern Europe; and was dominated by Marxists and unemployed thugs.

The Alex was a poor working class neighbourhood, some half-kilometre square; consisting of grim, deep-cobbled streets; shadowy, labyrinthine alleyways; towering, soot and coal-dust blackened, five-storey brick tenement slums... the grim, nineteenth-century Berlin "Mietskaserne"... the notorious "Rental Barracks" built around a seemingly endless maze of dismal, dank, inner courtyards where the sunshine never penetrated.

It was a warren of basement and one-room hovels stinking of mould, flea-powder, and sausage; lacking indoor plumbing, and housing thousands of tenants. It was full of nooks, crannies, and dead-end alleyways making it a perfect environment for the unemployed thugs, petty criminals and snappers... whores; and contained at least three hundred brothels. Less than a dozen or so of these resembled the classy Parisian variety. The rest were essentially dingy, one-room knocking shops where both male and female street prostitutes could service the clients that they had picked up around Stawiki's Beer Hall, or the Alexanderplatz Bahnhof on the other side of the Platz.

This squalid ghetto housed some of the lowest-grade snappers in the city... many of whom were plainly over fifty years old. There was a considerable demand for these "comfortable" types of whores. Many of the middle-aged, blue-collar workers much preferred them to the younger girls, who usually accommodated the "Freaks," with predilections for Domination, Sadism, and other weird perversions.

The Polizei "bulls" certainly patrolled the perimeter of this human warren tapping their black rubber, forty-centimetre truncheons against their "Schaftstiefelen"… knee-boots in an intimidating manner; but rarely did they venture inside the area... unless there was a "Razzia"... a Polizei raid; or some deviant freak had committed "Lust Mord"... killing for pleasure... when some sadistic perversion or excessively violent rape fantasy had gone horribly wrong. Consequently; the pimps and thugs ruled and terrorised the maze of narrow, dark alleys, grimy cobbled side streets, and infamous tenement blocks with their brass knuckles, cut-throat razors, and switchblade knives.

Dietrich continued…

'I can't even begin to guess what that bloody Hymie, Schumann has done to her. I should be getting two-eighty coming up to the Nordshleife. Still, I kicked his Yid arse a bit, and he swore he'd have her up to speed for next time.'

The AVUS… the initials "AVUS" stood for "Automobil Verkehrs und Übungs Strasse," which translated into something like "car traffic and practice street"… was Berlin's Grand Prix track in the Grünewald district, and had been extensively modified for the 1936 Berlin Motor Show. The nearby fairground was extended with a new access road. That meant that the old AVUS north curve… the Nordshleife from 1921, had to go, and the track had to be shortened. It also meant that there would be no Grand Prix race on the track in 1936. As compensation to the organizers, the track was given a new, banked north curve, free of charge.

Banked curves were nothing new in Europe of the 30's. Brooklands, in England was banked; as was Monza in Italy, and Montlhéry in France. However, as the AVUS was already an extremely fast track - it consisted of two, nine-kilometres long, parallel straights connected by a one hundred and eighty degree curve at each end - it meant that from now on, the racing cars only had to go through one slow curve per nineteen and a quarter kilometres lap. The new north curve was constructed with a surface of red bricks and had a banking of forty-three degrees. As the track now turned up into a low vertical wall with no other safety arrangements on its high side, any driver who went off there could expect a long airborne flight. It was, therefore, no wonder that the curve was soon given the nickname "The Wall of Death." On the straights, some of the works streamlined racing cars… specifically; the Mercedes SSKLs and Auto Union Type 'C' Silver Arrows could reach 380 km/h, while the Nordshleife could be taken at 180 km/h. The drivers said that braking from 380 and going into the curve, seeing the ground to the left and the sky to the right, felt more like aeroplane aerobatics than car racing.

Mendel Schumann was Dietrich's personal mechanic; Daimler-Benz, Stuttgart-Untertürkheim trained; and an aero engine master-craftsman. He had arrived with the Hanomag SS 100 tractor that had towed the Mercedes-Benz W25B on a low, four-wheeled trailer directly from The Nürburgring in June, the previous year, and had stayed ever since; cosseting the W25B at the AVUS. He was also Jewish. He was also the finest mechanic Dietrich had ever known. No mention was ever made of his Jewish bloodline outside… or, for that matter… inside the walls of the Lichterfelde Kaserne; or within earshot of anyone, anywhere, who was not trusted implicitly by Dietrich.

As one of the first of his religion who came to be known as "Schutzjuden"… Jews who were placed on "protected lists," by either Hitler himself, or because of their "special contributions" to society; Mendel Schumann enjoyed the protection of SS-Obergruppenführer Dietrich, Kommandant of Leibstandarte-SS Adolf Hitler. In the gathering shadows of the persecution and discrimination against the Jews of Berlin; that was protection enough… it was more than enough.

As he turned to leave, Dietrich said,

'Do you have to leave tonight? I'm having a piss-up over at "Pension Schmidt," and I thought I might do a "Marlene."

"Pension Schmidt" was Berlin's top brothel... owned by Kitty Schmidt; on Giesebrechtstrasse, just off Kurfürstendamm. It would later become famous as the notorious SD surveillance establishment, "Salon Kitty."

Wolff replied it was a great shame, but, yes… Karyn was to catch her flight at Zentralflughafen Tempelhof-Berlin at three o'clock, that afternoon. Dietrich muttered that it was a shame, but then he laughed his buccaneer laugh and wished Karyn good luck. As he turned to leave, Werner Schütt spoke,

'With your permission, Kommandant, we shall draw, and reload sufficient modified Kurz rounds from the Kaserne Armoury to charge the six magazines Gruppenführer Wolff has provided, plus three spare, fifty round, boxes.'

Dietrich replied,

'Take what you think the Fräulein Doktor will need, Werner.'

Then he left the range. As Schütt followed him out, Karyn turned to Wolff, a curious smile on her face,

'Herr Wolff, what did the Obergruppenführer mean, when he said he "might do a Marlene" tonight?'

Wolff laughed,

'That's Sepp's party piece at these booze-ups… he likes to appear regularly in drag under the name ''Marlene," cuddling a picture of Adolf, and singing:

''Valling in luff again -Vot am I to do?…"

If "They" ever found out, God only knows what would happen. That little snippet is "Geheime Reichssache"… and you never heard it mentioned… OK?'

The mental picture of the hard, brutal-faced Sepp Dietrich in drag was too much. Karyn was clutched by a spasm of uncontrollable giggling. She barely managed to regain her composure before Werner Schütt returned with a tray loaded with the modified ammunition. He had set the entire Armoury staff to reloading the Kurz rounds, and each one had been reworked with the greatest care. He'd seen to that, with dire threats of "Dummfick"… hard drill and barrack harassment for any shoddy workmanship. He liked this pretty Fräulein Doktor Karyn von Seringen, and it would not be down to him for her to be put at risk by a jam or a misfire. Now, she was to practice again with these high-power rounds.

He slipped the special prototype box extension magazine into the little Walther and handed the weapon to Karyn.

'How does that feel, Fräulein Doktor? Is it comfortable?

The little PPK felt ungainly in her hand. She handed it back.

'I prefer it as it was. This makes it feel unbalanced and clumsy.'

Schütt nodded,

'I thought that it would. It is designed for a man's hand. So, we shall unload it and put the rounds back into this box that I deliberately left seven short, because I was almost certain that you would turn down the box extension magazine.'

He thumbed the rounds out and handed the empty magazine back to Wolff, who waved it away;

'You might as well keep it, Werner. The Fräulein Doktor has the weapon, so I have no further use for it.'

At last, SS-Hauptsturmführer Schütt… small-arms instructor at the Lichterfelde Kaserne, was satisfied with Karyn's marksmanship. She had fired six clips at the cardboard "Pappkameraden" targets and scored about eighty per cent hits. Her ears were ringing from the crash of the 9mm modified Kurz rounds, and the little Walther PPK was getting hot. Schütt had taken the pistol away to inspect and clean it, while she and Wolff went to the Officer's Mess to have a coffee. Wolff was pleased with her performance, and as they sipped their coffee and made small talk, Schütt had returned and pronounced the PPK fully serviceable.

Wolff thanked him, and slipped the pistol into the SS Attaché case. Time to go. Karyn thanked Schütt for his time, trouble… and patience. He laughed, and wished her good luck on her journey, although… like Wolff, he was worried. He didn't know where she was going; only that he had a nagging feeling that it wasn't somewhere pleasant. He had been surprised to see the Fairbairn and Sykes close-combat fighting knife. There was no other reason except for killing, for carrying one of those.

The scabbard was cunning... but designed for a man. It was strapped under the arm, which wasn't a problem for a man… men didn't have breasts. With a woman, such a carry was fraught with the danger of self-mutilation if the weapon was drawn in anger. With this in mind, he had taken the weapon down to the Kaserne leather shop and instructed the chief craftsman to make up a harness which would securely attach the scabbarded weapon to the inside of a female thigh.

The chief leather craftsman; a tough, young Bavarian SS-Sturmmann, had called a pretty, young, blonde SS-Oberhelfer… a female of the supply support personnel, to assist him in his craft. As Schütt closed the leather shop door, he heard the first coy squeal as the SS-Sturmmann made a start on measuring up for his design. Schütt gave a wry smile, as he thought to himself…

'OK, so enjoy yourselves… God knows, there's not much chance, these days. But you'd better have that bloody harness ready when I return.'