Chapter Four.

Room service came at eight o'clock the following morning. The young waiter brought her breakfast on a Kaiserhof silver tray, with hot coffee, crusty bread rolls, butter, jam; thin slices of cheese and ham, and a soft-boiled egg… Breakfast in bed! A sheer indulgence! On the tray was an envelope addressed to her in green ink... Himmler's trademark. The letter was handwritten - again, in the sharp, italic-like green lettering. Himmler wrote that she should select such clothing as she saw fit, from the amply-stocked dressing room. She would need gowns suitable for Embassy social functions, and dresses for lesser occasions. She would need clothes for travel, and whatever she normally wore for her occupation as archaeologist. Her choice was to be selected, and laid out ready for packing. This would be attended to while she was being briefed at the Ministry of The Interior that morning. The letter ended with the obligatory "Heil Hitler," followed by Himmler's sharp, angular signature.

Karyn finished her breakfast and slipped into the shower. As the warm needles of water caressed her body, they washed away the muzzy feeling of the Piesporter, but could not wash away the apprehension she felt concerning the morning meeting with Himmler. Wrapped in a great, fluffy, Kaiserhof towel, with another bound about her wet hair, she sat in front of the dressing table mirror and studied herself. She unwrapped the towel from about her hair and gazed into the mirror. The big, fluffy bath towel slipped down, and she saw a pale-complexioned, firm-bosomed, blue-eyed young blonde "Deutsches Mädchen" of "Das Herrenvolk"… The Master Race, gazing back at her. And in that moment, Karyn knew. She knew as surely as if the ReichsFührer-SS had written it plainly in his green-inked note.

Suddenly, it all fell into place. This whole thing had been orchestrated by those lunatics in the Racial-hygiene, and Millenarian camps. The seeds had been sown back in Frankfurt-am-Main, a year or so, ago. Bruno Beger had invited her, and a graduate girlfriend who had been studying art history in Florence, to a party, and had introduced her to a certain Professor Dr. Otmar von Verschuer. He was Director of The Frankfurt "Institut für Erbbiologie and Rassenhygiene"… the Institute for Heredobiology and Racial Hygiene. He took a great interest in Karyn, and expressed his admiration that a classic young Herrenvolk Fräulein such as her was awarded an under-chair in archaeology. And she was a loyal Party member, to boot.

The party was crawling with SS officers and assorted Party bigwigs, including the frighteningly strange, SS Occult consultant... SS-Brigadeführer Karl Maria Wiligut, whom some called "Himmler's Rasputin."

Karyn's girlfriend had rather taken a fancy to von Verschuer's handsome young assistant. He was about twenty-five, and had just achieved a medical degree at the University of Frankfurt-am- Main. His name was Josef Mengele.

Von Verschuer had wandered off to talk shop with Wiligut, leaving Karyn and her friend, Irene, in Mengele's company. He had seemed nice enough, but there was something about him that gave Karyn an unsettling feeling, and after a while, she had excused herself from their company. The one thing that stuck in her memory was Mengele's effusive comments about her Goldene Ehrenzeichen der NSDAP. He was impressed... very impressed. To have been awarded such an honour, and in one so young.

As she pondered this, she started to put two and two together. This situation she now found herself in must have been originally brought about by her godfather, Herbert Jankuhn. He had been a great friend of her father, an industrialist, who, in 1932, had been invited to join the Keppler Circle… a group of German industrialists whose aim was to strengthen the ties between the Nazi Party and business and industry. Her father had declined at first; but later, joined Himmler's "Circle of Friends"... "Der Freundeskreis der ReichsFührer-SS" into which it had developed. She had seen his silver RFSS Freundeskreis ringe... the special Circle of Friends of the ReichsFührer-SS Signet ring, although he rarely wore it.

In exchange for generous contributions, these industrialists received special consideration when government economic policies were drafted and implemented, and such contributions were generally regarded as money well spent. The very expensive programs of the Deutsche Ahnenerbe were supported, if not entirely funded, by the RFSS. The salary of the ReichsFührer-SS and his estates… of course, had to be funded by the Circle to include his summer villa called "Lindenfycht" at Gmund am Tegernsee in Bavaria. So it was evident that the formation of this benevolent group was the nucleus of the SS that couldn't have survived without it. Her father had also helped to fund Jankuhn. He had also donated to "Die Externsteine-Stiftung"... the "Externsteine Foundation." This was another of Himmlers' pet projects, and led into the wildly surrealistic world of Nazi mysticism.

This intense, irrational reality that seemed to afflict Himmler, led to a professor of Geology from Münster… Julius Andree; leading an excavation of the Externsteine… four spectacular columns of rock; one of which had a small chapel cut into it. The window of the chapel admitted the rising sun at midsummer. These columns were located near the small town of Horn in Nordrhein-Westfalen; northeast of Dortmund.

Andree excavated the Externsteine not once, but twice. He had been Scientific Assistant to Professor August Stieren, who led the exploration of Kallenhardt, Warstein, in 1926, seeking Sigfrid's Niflunga hoard. This surreal endeavour was based on the mythology of "Das Nibelungenlied"... an epic poem in Middle High German; and Sigfrid's Niflunga hoard was generally perceived as being some sort of Teutonic pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The very thought that supposedly professional and rational archaeologists could contemplate the seeking of a mythical hoard of Rhine gold secreted by a mythical character from a series of four epic musical dramas based loosely on figures and elements of Germanic paganism… really was jaw-dropping in its absurdity.

Wagner's cycle of four epic operas: "Der Ring des Nibelungen" was based on the 12th-century, Middle-High-German epic poem of the Nibelungenlied … sometimes referred to as the Völsunga saga; based largely on the old stories which were commonly known in all of the Germanic lands from the early Middle Ages on; but, with the material reworked into a courtly medieval setting; and was one of the oldest Norse epics. It was, in truth; a grandiose, pretentious composition that most ordinary, young Germans simply wrote off as:

"That load of Middle-Ages shite that only a Nationality-crazy, Saxony German would be capable of thinking up."

The average young German music-lover; especially in Berlin; much preferred "Swing"... so much so; that the authorities put up signs in dance halls proclaiming: "Swing Tanzen Verboten"... "Swing Dancing Prohibited." The Nazi Party regarded the 1930's jazz style known as swing, as deeply un-German… it was officially condemned as being "Entartete Musik"... Degenerate music. Its popularity among German young people profoundly disturbed the Nazi hierarchy. In the Third Reich, the State claimed a total authority over its citizens, their minds, and their bodies. Swing music threatened that claim.

The spread of the radio as a mass medium encouraged by Nazi propaganda, under Goebbels "Volksempfänger-program"... where every German household could affordably have a radio; made the situation acute by the mid-1930s. It didn't actually help that the Volksempfänger... "People's receiver" was purposely designed only to receive local stations, so as to ensure that Nazi propaganda broadcasts could readily be heard, while other media, such as the English BBC's World Service, could not be received... and, of course; many local radio stations played the popular Swing music.

The Nazis could never really accurately define what jazz music was. However, the African and American origins of jazz caused many of the conservative Nazis to look down on jazz as a product of inferior culture and race. These Nazis could accept jazz... or at least live with it; as long as the players were white, "Arisch," and, most certainly, not Jewish.

The apparently trivial question of how ordinary people moved their bodies to American dance music became a matter of racial principle, an arena for political manoeuvring, and a bitter struggle between the Police, the SS, and the Ministry of Propaganda. A "Tanzverbot"... a Dance Prohibition Order was put into place in 1935... and was literally ignored... especially by the young Berliners.

It really didn't matter that Der Ring des Nibelungen was an orchestral masterpiece, and one of Hitler's favourite pieces; the whole concept of excavating the Externsteine was so arrogantly inane that it beggared belief that anyone could have actually been found to finance such an exploration. Karyn earnestly hoped that her chosen vocation wouldn't cause her to end up as one of these fruitcakes.

However… the generally-held belief of those adhering to Himmler's "Völkisch" ideology was that the Externsteine was in fact, an early Germanic cult site, or even a temple. Wilhelm Teudt... a Völkisch lay-archaeologist searching for an ancient Germanic civilization, suggested that the Externsteine was the location of the Saxon "Irminsul"… "Great pillar" which was said to connect heaven and earth; represented by oak or wooden pillars venerated by the Saxons; and stood, until allegedly toppled by Charlemagne.

A carving of a "Weeping Irminsul" was supposed to be on one of the pillars of rock. The Externsteine was said to be at the centre of certain alignments - which were never statistically tested by Julius Andree; and was supposed to have been a sacred centre pre-dating the English Stonehenge. The chapel was found to be actually Christian, not pagan; and probably medieval. None of this mattered too much in a totalitarian state; and after the propagandists had added their embellishments; the Externsteine was to become a major Nazi cult centre.

Himmler, besotted as he was, by mysticism; had ordered excavations to begin. The first in 1934, and the second in 1935, did not produce any archaeological findings other than pottery and other small finds produced from the seventh through to the nineteenth century of the Common Era. Neither these, nor the architectural remains gave any indication of a religious purpose for the site. There was no evidence that the Externsteine was ever a Germanic temple. This disappointing result may well account for the failure of Julius Andree, who directed the 1934 excavations, to document his work fully, or indeed to produce a proper publication. In his brief note in a popular publication… and in his public lectures, Andree supported the Völkisch fantasy about the site, but avoided giving details that would allow this flimsy interpretation to be challenged.

However; during the second excavation, the first Midsummer festival was celebrated. This became a fixed point in the Nationalsozialist calendar when Nazi Youth organisations gathered at Externsteine to sing pagan hymns on Hitler's birthday; and SS members swore their allegiance.

And to think, these people ruled the German people absolutely! Karyn decided that she needed to take great care as to how she conducted herself, and what she said, from here on in. As she slipped into the silk underwear she had selected from the dresser drawer, she sighed. The Andree business just about summed up these fruitcakes who had summoned her to Berlin. There had actually been funding available... probably from the Thule Society…a Munich occult group with a political agenda, whose members stressed the racial superiority of Aryans and were deeply embroiled in this eugenics nonsense… for this bizarre expedition to find the treasure hoard of a mythical Germanic hero, popularised by Richard Wagner's epic Der Ring des Nibelungen.

OK, so he was the Führer's favourite composer, but... really!

Her old Professor back at the University in Frankfurt-am-Main had warned her about these zealots, and how they were manipulating the disciplines of true archaeology to justify this unpalatable doctrine of eugenics. He had urged her to stay true to her calling and keep her archaeology pure. Noble sentiments, but, it didn't save him when the Nazis purged the University. Almost one third of its academics and many of its students were dismissed for racist and, or political reasons... more than at any other German university.

In view of all this, Karyn had decided that she would play the enthusiastic Party member at this meeting, the following morning. She would take great care not to let slip anything that might reveal the slightest thing to her detriment. They wanted, for whatever reason, a classic "Deutsches Mädchen" of "Das Herrenvolk," and that was exactly what they would get. From the dressing room, she selected a severe, but beautifully cut, black cashmere suit. It bore the manufacturer's label… Hugo Boss. Metzingen. It would go perfectly with the cream silk, high-necked, tunic-style blouse that she had decided to wear. It would go better than perfectly; for the Boss Company was the RZM-licensed official supplier of uniforms to the SA, SS; Hitler Youth, NSKK, and other Party organizations.

Karyn carefully braided her hair into "Gretchenzöpfen," wound up into a coil... the BDM "Gretchen wreath." She would wear Das Kleine Goldene Ehrenzeichen der NSDAP at the throat of her blouse today; mimicking the approved position on uniform neckties. To complete this ensemble, she selected black court shoes, black leather gloves, and a black leather clutch bag to contain the documents that Himmler had issued the previous evening. She inspected herself in front of the full-length mirror. It was not Karyn Helle von Seringen who gazed back at her... instead, it was some austere female Party official, and perhaps even something to do with the SS… although, females were not allowed to become members of this male-dominated club. The merest touch of make-up, and she was ready.

Five minutes later, there was a knock on the door of the private apartment. Upon opening it, she was faced, not with the Sicherheitspolizei SS-Sturmscharführer of the previous night; but SS-Gruppenführer Karl Wolff himself. He gazed admiringly at this vision before him; smiled, and said,

'Gutenmorgen, Fräulein Doktor von Seringen. You slept well? ReichsFührer-SS Himmler instructed me to collect you personally. Are you ready?'

Karyn nodded, and Wolff stood back for her to emerge. He escorted her down into the foyer of the Kaiserhof, where the staff stood waiting in line, to raise their arms in a synchronised Hitlergruss as she, and Wolff swept past them to the waiting car. No ominous black Horch waited at the kerbside this time. Now, it was a glittering black, open Maybach Zeppelin two-door cabriolet with the ReichsFührer-SS pennant on the offside front fender, and the SS1 licence plate… Himmler's personal staff-car! The black-uniformed SS driver opened the rear door for them and they settled themselves on the plush rear seat.

There too, were four Verkehrspolizei traffic police motorcycle outriders. As Wolff had ushered her into the rear seat of the Maybach, two of the white-coated motorcycle cops kick-started their powder-blue BMW's and roared off up Wilhelmstrasse with Martin-Horns blaring, towards Pariser Platz. As the Maybach whispered away from the kerb, the Verkehrspolizei to the rear of the car, pulled out into Wilhelmstrasse, stopping the traffic coming up from Belle-Alliance Platz. The fourth rider shepherded the Maybach up to the junction with Unter Den Linden to where the first two riders had stopped the traffic in both directions. The Maybach turned to the left, and swept out under the central archway of the Brandenburger Tor into Charlottenburger Chaussee as the first two Verkehrspolizei BMW R5 motorcycles roared past, and turned right into the short northern extension of Siegesallee leading into Zeltenallee. Here, they stopped at either side of the road to block any traffic cutting through the Tiergarten to, or from Kurfürsten Platz.

The Maybach swung onto the circle of Königsplatz, past the ascetic "Moltkedenkmal"… the Moltke memorial in front of the Kroll-Oper; with "Goldelse" shining brightly in the morning sunlight from her high perch on the great Siegessäule column. The Berliners joked that, up there, she was the only woman in Berlin safe from Goebbels' amorous advances.

The driver slowed and swung left, and then, right; to stop outside the Ministry of Internal Affairs building, as the four Verkehrspolizei motorcycles continued straight on and roared off up Herwarthstrasse towards the junction with Moltkestrasse, and the Moltkebrücke.

Wolff climbed out, and offered his hand to her, ushering her out of the car. They walked in under the pillared portico as the two black uniformed, white belted and gloved, SS-Scharführers stationed either side of the entrance, snapped rigidly to attention. Karyn saw their eyes flicker at her from under their shining black Stahlhelms, and she allowed herself a little, secret smile. The effect of the black cashmere suit and cream silk, high-necked, tunic-style blouse with Das Kleine Goldene Ehrenzeichen der NSDAP at her throat was perfect. She might have been almost anyone or anything… especially when being escorted by Himmler's Personal Adjutant, SS-Gruppenführer Wolff.

As they entered the Ministry, SS-Untersturmführer Otto Giesler leapt from his chair behind the desk like a scalded cat. His right arm shot out in such a violent Hitlergruss that he almost ripped the shoulder seam out of his uniform jacket sleeve. Wolff merely raised his right hand as he walked past with Karyn. Again, she allowed herself a little secret smile. No sitting and waiting for ten minutes this time, while you ignore me, you fat pig.

Wolff guided her up the great staircase and along the first-floor corridor to the door of Himmler's office, guarded, as of the last time, by two SS-Oberscharführers of the Leibstandarte-SS Adolf Hitler. They stood motionless, in their sinister black uniforms. Their blood-red SS Hakenkreuzarmbinden were bright in the morning sunlight streaming in through the windows overlooking Königsplatz. Again, they did not move as Wolff knocked on the door. A high-pitched voice answered:

'Hereingekommen.'

Wolff opened the door and Karyn entered. Once again, she stood in the presence of ReichsFührer-SS Heinrich Himmler. He sat behind the vast desk and peered up owlishly as Karyn stood before him. He was wearing his full black Schutzstaffel uniform, which, at first glance, gave him the appearance of a malevolent black crow. He looked her up and down, and then spoke again, in his high-pitched voice,

'Gutenmorgen, Fräulein Doktor, Please accept my apologies, but I must be at the Deutschlandhalle in forty minutes.'

He glanced at the enormous gold Rolex on his wrist, and continued...

'Wolff will brief you in my absence, but first, I must issue you with these.'

He reached into a drawer of the desk and brought out five brown-paper-wrapped tubes, which he pushed across the desk. Each tube was about twenty millimetres in diameter, and some twenty centimetres long. Each bore the circular seal of the Reichsbank… a black eagle within a circle, encompassed with the word "Reichsbankdirektorium" inside an outer, double-lined circle. Himmler gave a thin smile.

'Each roll contains one hundred Prussian Twenty Mark Gold pieces. In total, they equal the equivalent face value of ten thousand Reichsmarks, but their intrinsic bullion value is three times that sum. Where you are going, bullion coins are the most practical currency.'

He pushed across a bundle of Reichsbank notes.

'Five thousand Reichsmarks incidental expenses. Now, if you would be so kind as to sign this receipt.'

He pushed a slip of paper across the desk, together with his personal fountain pen. She saw it was a Mont Blanc Meisterstück… only the best! She signed where he had indicated with a cross in his usual green pencil, and slid the pen and paper back across the desk. Himmler scrawled his signature on the receipt, and stamped it with the same purple rubber stamp impression he had used on her documents the previous day. He scraped his chair back, and rose from his seat.

'Now, I must depart. Wolff will brief you directly. I wish you every success in your enterprise for the Fatherland, Fräulein Doktor von Seringen'

Karyn knew she must say something...

'Vielen Danke, Herr ReichsFührer... Heil Hitler!'

She raised her right arm in a full Hitlergruss. Himmler merely waved his right hand at her as he repeated the obligatory "Heil Hitler." He came from behind the desk, and as he walked across the office to the door, his tall, highly polished Schaftstiefelen creaked. The black uniform, and especially the Dienst Stiefelhose… the riding breeches, really didn't suit his scrawny frame. His clutch of decorations somehow just hung from his narrow chest. Karyn was left standing alone in his office, wondering what the hell this was all about. She did not have to wait long to find out.

The door opened and Wolff walked in. He was a much more imposing figure than his boss. His black uniform was beautifully cut. There were still Jewish tailors in Berlin at this time, and the Nazi hierarchy, with the exception of Hitler, and Julius Streicher… the rabid, anti-Semitic founder and editor of the racist newspaper: Der Stürmer; had no qualms in patronising their establishments in, and around Spandauer Vorstadt. Their wives and mistresses commissioned Haute Couture from the Jewish Konfektionsfirmen quarter within the triangle formed by Neu Synagogue, Oranienburger Strasse, and Grosse Hamburger Strasse; "The Mile of Tolerance." Even Magda Goebbels retained a little Jewess dressmaker in Hausvogteiplatz, between Friedrichstrasse and Alexanderplatz… home to some of Europe´s most exclusive designers; as did Emmy Göring.

Wolff was in his mid-thirties, handsome, in the "Dashing" sort of way that the UFA film cameramen liked to depict. The best example of this "Selling the Dream" type of propaganda was the film of the equestrian ride of Heer officers down the south bank of the Elbe at "Die Eisenbahnbrücke bei Dömitz"… the Dömitz Elbe Railway Bridge, to the music of "Der Königgrätzer Marsch"... the anthem that had become notorious as the one played over the newsreel of the Book-burning ceremony, back in May, 1933 in front of the Deutsche Staatsoper on the Opernplatz in Berlin after the crowd had finished singing Die Fahne Hoch; which would come to be better-known as the notorious "Horst-Wessel Lied."

He sat at the desk and invited Karyn to take a seat. He put his elbows on the desk and rested his chin on his hands, and then he spoke.

'Fräulein Doktor, are you familiar with the Deutsches Ahnenerbe?

Karyn nodded; Of course, she was. Simply put; if you were a German archaeologist who wanted to advance your career at all, during the 1930's, you had to be at the Ahnenerbe... the SS Academy of Scientific Perversion, conducting research into scientific and archaeological proof of "Arisch" supremacy.

"Der Studiengesellschaft für Geistesurgeschichte"... The German Ancestral Heritage Society for the Study of the History of Primeval Ideas, was founded on July 1st, 1935 as a research foundation, and was specifically developed to research the anthropological and cultural history of the German race. It also sought out mythical connections, believing that Nordic ancestors had once ruled large parts of the world.

On February 1st, 1937, Dr. Walther Wüst had been appointed as the new President of the Ahnenerbe. Wüst was an expert on India and a Dekan at Ludwig Maximilian's University of Munich, working on the side as a "Vertrauensmann"... an agent to infiltrate political parties on behalf of the SS Security Service. After being appointed President, Wüst began improving the Ahnenerbe: renaming it "Forschungs-und Lehrgemeinschaft das Ahnenerbe"... Research and Teaching Community the Ancestral Heritage; and moving the office to new headquarters in a villa at Pücklerstrasse 16, located in the Dahlem neighbourhood of Berlin, just to the east of the Avus Motor Racing Circuit.

The Ahnenerbe employed all manner of scholars, including archaeologists, anthropologists; ethnologists, and classicists, as well as medical doctors, geologists, and botanists. It also employed support workers including librarians, filmmakers, photographers; artists, lab technicians, and secretaries. Their common goal was to find evidence of the glorious deeds of Germany's ancestors... the fictional "Arya," using scientific methods; and to communicate that information to the public by means of magazine articles, books; museum shows, and scientific conferences.

Himmler believed... as did Hitler; that there were; and only ever had been three kinds of people in the world. There were the Founders of Culture; the Bearers of Culture, and the Destroyers of Culture. The founders of every civilization, according to this insidious, hare-brained notion, were the "Arisch"… the Aryans; blonde, blue-eyed, beautiful, God-like people who lived in an icy climate. Himmler obtained scholars and others, to work at the well-financed Ahnenerbe research institute through a terrifying blend of ambition and fear.

Karyn replied quietly,

'Yes, Herr Gruppenführer, I have heard of the Ahnenerbe.'

Wolff gave a laconic grin,

'And that is what all this is about. You are about to enter a world of jaw-dropping fatuity. Imagine yourself as Alice in the Engländer Lewis Carroll's book, "Through the Looking Glass." You are now about to jump down the rabbit hole into a world of idiots, halfwits, imbeciles, and fruitcakes. The frightening thing is that they are some of the most powerful men in the entire Third Reich.'

Karyn was hard-pressed to keep a straight face. Wolff continued…

'As you may know, ReichsFührer-SS Himmler is fascinated by philosophical mysticism and the paranormal. This ex-chicken-farmer's cranky obsessions with mesmerism, the occult; herbal remedies, and homeopathy go hand in hand with his narrow-minded, fanatical racialism and total commitment to the "Arisch" myth. He is also interested in searching for Atlantis and the Holy Grail. In a speech made only a couple of months ago, he declared that,

"There is no more living proof of hereditary and racial laws than in a concentration camp. You find there, hydrocephalics, squinters, deformed individuals, semi-Jews: a considerable number of inferior people. The mission of the German people is the struggle for the extermination of any sub-humans all over the world who are in league against Germany, which is the nucleus of the Nordic race; against Germany, nucleus of the German nation; against Germany the custodian of human culture. They mean the existence or non-existence of the white man, and we guide his destiny."

Wolff sighed;

'With the express approval of The Führer, his "Decisive Innovation" is to transform the race question from "A negative concept based on matter-of-course anti-Semitism" into an organizational task for building up the SS. Racism is to be safeguarded by the reality of a race society by the concentration camps presided over by the SS-Totenkopfverbände in the Fatherland. This is a dark, and frightening path they are leading us onto, and I really have no idea where it will end. In short, and this must not escape these four walls… or I am a dead duck… in my humble opinion, the second most powerful man in the Fatherland is as nutty as a fruitcake.'

He continued:

'In 1934, at the suggestion of that escapee from a padded cell, SS - Brigadeführer Karl Maria Wiligut; ReichsFührer-SS Himmler signed a hundred-mark, hundred-year lease with the Paderborn district, intending to renovate, and re-design the castle of Wewelsburg as an academy for Nazi leadership… the so-called SS "Führerkorps." Fascinated by tales of King Arthur and his knights, Himmler has decided to make Wewelsburg his very own "Camelot" for his own Knightly Order. He imagines the castle as the cradle for the rebirth of his Knights of the Round Table.

He tells me, the design of floor mosaic being laid in the Marble Hall will be known as the "Black Sun"… "Die Schwarze Sonne," and will become a revered "Arisch" symbol; and the focal point of the castle is a huge, round oak table with seating for his twelve of his senior Gruppenführers appointed as his "Knights;" who will gather at various rooms throughout the castle and perform ludicrous, clandestine rites. They will sit in high-backed chairs made out of pigskin, each inlaid with a silver disk on which the selected "Knight" has his name engraved. Here, the chiefs of the SS will be compelled to sit in the company of their Grand Master Himmler for hours of contemplation and meditation.

Beneath this room is a circular crypt with a shallow depression reached by three stone steps symbolising the three Reichs, where; should one of the "Knights" die; an urn containing his ashes will be placed, and his coat of arms will be ceremonially burned. Vents in the ceiling will allow those in the main hall to see the smoke rise, or... "The Spirit of the dead Knight ascend into the SS Valhalla." Similarly, any recipient of one of ReichsFührer-SS Himmler's Totenkopfrings has to arrange to have the ring returned to the castle upon his death.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

The castle will contain a room he calls the Himmler Crypt, dedicated to the Saxon King Heinrich 1st… of whom the ReichsFührer-SS believes himself to be the reincarnation; and where he hopes to be interred after his death. So, as you can see; I can only submit to you my most humble apologies. You were selected to serve this lunatic asylum because of your appearance, and your specialised knowledge of ancient glyphs and writings.'

He sighed, and looked even more bemused. Karyn shook her head in disbelief. Wolff nodded and reached into his uniform pocket. He brought out a pack of St. Felix Burger small cigars and an American Zippo lighter. He took one and offered the pack to Karyn. She accepted. He stood up and turned to the window, opening it onto Königsplatz. He then moved his chair to the window and invited her to do the same. ReichsFührer-SS Himmler would not be amused if he returned to find the office stinking of cigar smoke!

As they smoked, Wolff asked if Himmler had said anything concerning her 'Mission' the previous day. Karyn said that he hadn't. All he had done was issue her with the documents. Wolff took a deep drag from his cigar, looked at her, and said,

'What do you know of the "Tunguska Event," Fräulein Doktor?'

She looked at him, curiously;

'Wasn't that the devastating explosion in Siberia at the beginning of the Century?'

He nodded.

'Yes, that is correct; and it wasn't fully discovered until the late twenties. That is what this pantomime is all about.'

Karyn looked puzzled,

'But, that is not archaeology. Surely, the Russian mineralogist Kulik decided that it was a meteorite, although he found no sign of a crater in the perma-frost.'

Wolff nodded again.

'True, but now the plot thickens. That lunatic Wiligut has convinced Himmler that it was in fact, not a meteorite at all; but an entity from the star Aldebaran, the brightest star in the constellation Taurus; and one of the brightest stars in the night-time sky, which these nuts believe may be the point of origin of the "Arisch" Übermenschen in their bizarre, and mystic dream world. Now, as far as I am concerned; Wiligut should be locked up, and the keys thrown into the Spree. He claims to have a clairvoyant recollection of the early history of Germany, which includes the notion that he traces his descent back to Wodan and Frea. He also claims to be the last descendant in a line of male heirs who were the offspring of a union between air gods… "Asen" and water gods… "Wanen;" giving him a unique ancestral-clairvoyant memory going back to two hundred and twenty-eight thousand years before the Christian Era, when there were supposedly three suns in the sky, and creatures such as giants and dwarves roamed the earth.

In short, he is stark raving mad, but he is an SS-Brigadeführer, and has Himmler's patronage. The ReichsFührer-SS has commanded that you are to travel to Siberia. It has been arranged that you will take up a research post at the Belarusian Academy of Sciences, Minsk, under the umbrella of the Germano-Soviet Military Accord. The Russians have developed an interest in the Tunguska Event.

Three ancient volumes have been discovered close to the tiny settlement of Vanavara, somewhere near the Stony Tunguska River. The volumes are at present, retained in the library of the Academy of Sciences in Minsk, but no one has been able to make the slightest sense of them. Himmler sees this as having a major propaganda value… the classic "Arisch Mädchen" of "Das Herrenvolk" triumphing over the finest brains of the Soviet "Untermenschen." You see how this bloody eugenics nonsense is at the root of all this?'

Wolff shrugged, and took another deep drag from his cigar.

'They say that, to the Russians; the very word Siberia is enough to make the blood run chill. It smells of chains and shackles in the snow. I now have to send you far out into the endless, God-forsaken wildernesses of Siberia to an uninhabited area of swampy Taiga forest that stays frozen for eight or nine months of the year, under the "protection" of a psychopathic Russian peasant who just happens to be the Chief of the NKVD; with nothing more than a piece of paper and a few gold coins with which to protect yourself. This is completely unacceptable to me. Therefore; I have brought you something.'

He moved to the desk and returned with a black leather Attaché case; the flap embossed in gold, with an eagle with out-spread wings clutching in its talons a laurel wreath containing a Hakenkreuz… The Hoheitsabzeichen; flanked with the letters RF to the left-hand side of the Eagle, and SS to the right. The embossing was the abbreviation of "ReichsFührer-SS," denoting the attach case as having the same, if not more confidentiality than a Diplomatic pouch. No one, if he possessed the merest shred of common sense, would dare to challenge its contents. From it, he drew two pistols. He held out the first one to her.

'Walther PPK. Seven rounds; six in the magazine, and one chambered. Standard Kriminalpolizei issue, but re-chambered to accept Walther PP, 9mm Kurz rounds. Try it for weight. It's all right; the safety's on.'

As she carefully accepted the weapon, he held up the second one. This was a much larger and heavier automatic pistol.

'Tokarev 7.62mm TT special. Eight rounds; as used by NKVD operatives. It's probably a bit heavy for you, and there's no manual safety on the single action trigger, other than a disconnector to prevent accidental discharge, and a half-cock notch on the hammer. The only safe way to carry a TT special is to always ensure that the chamber is empty, and that could be fatal where you are going… but try it anyway. It is unloaded.'

Karyn looked at him,

'But, Herr Gruppenführer, I have never held, let alone fired a pistol...'

Wolff smiled again,

'No matter; we can call in at the Berlin-Lichterfelde, Kaserne der Leibstandarte-SS Adolf Hitler when I drive you to Zentralflughafen Tempelhof-Berlin to catch your flight. We can drop in there, and you can spend half-an-hour-or-so, on the range to familiarise yourself. In the meantime I have something else.'

He reached into the briefcase and brought out a scabbarded knife. He unsheathed the slender blade and held it up.

'A Shanghai Municipal Police Armoury workshop close-combat fighting-knife, designed by two Englishmen... Fairbairn and Sykes, in the International Settlement. The blade is sixteen centimetres long, and the weapon weighs just over one hundred and seventy grammes. The length of the blade was chosen because it gave several centimetres of blade to penetrate the body after passing through the seven or eight centimetres of the thickest clothing that was anticipated to be worn by its victim... namely that of Soviet or Chinese greatcoats.

The knife is contained in a special, leather-covered scabbard, which allows the knife to be held vertically beneath the arm…, or perhaps, for a lady, against the inner thigh'…

He smiled…

'Blade up, hilt down. The scabbard is steel reinforced for rigidity, and has built-in springs to hold the weapon securely in place. It is probably the finest fighting knife in the world. One of our Cultural Attachés brought it back as a souvenir. Take it... just in case.'

Karyn shuddered; she could never imagine having to use such a weapon. She spoke; her voice flat with trepidation,

'But, I thought I was to research these ancient volumes...'

Wolff nodded,

'Yes, that is the case; but, you will have to travel to the site on the Tunguska River. It is a barren, and Godless wilderness, and the Russians are up to something. Forget the Ahnenerbe for a moment. The Abwehr intelligence gathering agency wants to know if there is any feasible weapon capability to be discovered there; and this is the second part of what is, in effect, your mission for the Fatherland.

Himmler has brokered with the Russians what is, as of now, code-named "Aktion Donnerwaffe"…"Operation Thunderweapon". This Protocol, agreed under the tentative Germano-Soviet Accord, prescribes strict adherence to correct etiquette and precedence concerning the sharing of such research findings as might be established, between the two Governments. Your hidden agenda is to covertly scrutinise such findings for any intimation of data that could ostensibly have a military significance beneficial to the Reich. This is why I consider it crucial that you are armed.'

Karyn studied Wolff's face carefully. Yes… he was concerned. She chose the Walther. He nodded, and reached into the Attaché case again. He brought out a spring-loaded shoulder holster, which held the semi-automatic pistol with the grip pointing down for ease of drawing. He then brought out six spare magazines and proceeded to load them from a large box of cartridges. Five magazines were replaced in the Attaché case, together with the box of cartridges, and he then showed her how to insert and eject the magazine. Handing the little Walther back to her, he said:

'You see the stamp "RZM" just above the magazine ejection button? That stands for "Reichszeugmeisterei," the Procurement Office of NSDAP. Your PPK was the "Ehrenwaffe" pistol given to me by Himmler the year after I became his Adjutant in '33. It has never jammed, and you can trust your life to it.

Karyn looked at the pistol and then looked at Wolff. He sat there with a little smile, like a doting father.

'Herr Gruppenführer, Your "Honour" pistol? I cannot take this…'

He smiled again,

'Of course you can. I want you to take it. I've got a bloody great 9mm Walther P38 as my official sidearm now. What would I want with a pretty little PPK, these days?'

Karyn sighed,

'Very well, Herr Gruppenführer, I shall accept the pistol.'

Wolff smiled,

'A wise choice…'

And held out his hand to take it from her. He slipped it into the shoulder holster and placed both in the Attaché case, together with the rolls of gold pieces, and the fighting knife. He stood up.

'Now, let's get out of this creepy office and go to mine. We'll have a coffee and then I'll drive you down to Lichterfelde.'

In his office along the corridor, his orderly was waiting. The coffee pot was steaming and the cups were laid out. It was a much cosier place than the great sepulchral monument to Das Drittes Reich that they had just come from. As they sat and drank their coffee, Wolff continued with his briefing. He said she would be under the hospitality of the President of the Academy of Sciences of Belarusian SSR: Ivan Zakharovich Surta.

In the twenties Surta had been a member of "Vecheka"… the "All-Russian Extraordinary Committee to Combat Counter-Revolution and Sabotage," and later, the OGPU… the "Joint State Political Directorate"… both Soviet secret police agencies. It was through this common link that Wolff had made his acquaintance at the German Embassy in Moscow, where Wolff was attending a function as Himmler's Liaison officer. Surta was a decent man; a graduate from the 2nd Moscow University; the Institute of Red Professoriate, and ex-academician of the National Academy of Sciences of Belarus. He would now be in his mid-forties, with a great Stalin-like walrus moustache; and he had promised Wolff he would look after her. With Nikolai Yezhov, the Chief of the NKVD in the picture, she needed someone to watch over her while she was in the Soviet Union.

Yezhov was very short in stature - and that, combined with his sadistic personality, led to his nickname "The Poisoned Dwarf" or "The Bloody Dwarf." Ivan Surta still had a circle of contacts in the GUGB... The Soviet Main Intelligence Directorate; as well as the NKVD. He could see to it that Yezhov would be watched. Surta's contacts would be only too pleased to do this. Yezhov had made many enemies. Under Yezhov, the Stalinist purges reached their height, with roughly half of the Soviet political and military establishment being imprisoned or shot, along with literally, millions of others suspected of disloyalty or "wrecking."

His methods were simple - but brutal. Yezhov quickly arranged the arrest of all the leading political figures in the Soviet Union who were critical of Stalin. The Secret Police broke prisoners down by intense interrogation. This included the threat to arrest and execute members of the prisoner's family if they did not confess. The interrogations went on for several days and nights, and eventually, the victims became so exhausted and disoriented that they signed confessions agreeing that they had been attempting to overthrow the government.

Yezhov also conducted a thorough purge of the NKVD and GUGB security services; removing and executing many officials who had been appointed by his predecessors, Yagoda and Menzhinsky. Stalin wanted to make sure that those who knew too much about the Purges would also be killed. The effectiveness of the GUGB as a military intelligence agency was virtually destroyed as experienced case officers were recalled from abroad. They had been contaminated by contact with the west, and had been out of sight, and thus, out of control. To Stalin, they were suspect; and most of the senior officers among their ranks were executed. Intelligence gathering suggested that most of the victims of the purges were executed at the Toksovo execution grounds near the Rzhevsky artillery range located about thirty kilometres northeast of Leningrad. According to eyewitnesses, the black cars and vans known as "Chyornye Voronki," or "Black Ravens," arrived at the range carrying prisoners Stalin had deemed "Enemies of The State." They came there night after night, their headlights sweeping over the moss before they would come to a halt by the side of the cobbled road with their headlights on. The lights would go out. There would be several moments of silence, and then would come the gunfire.

They killed them effortlessly, in the signature style of the NKVD: one 7.62mm Nagant or Tokarev bullet to the back of the skull, the bullet's exit shattering the facial bones. Then, haphazardly, the executioners dropped them into shallow, unmarked pits, barely disguising their remains under thirty centimetres or so, of sagging, sandy soil… and left them there to rot, nameless and forgotten - year after year, body after broken body. There would be silence for a while, and then, the engines would start again and the taillights would disappear back along the cobbled road.

The word "Nagant" had become a common Russian noun since the introduction of the Nagant revolver of Belgian design into the Russian army in 1895. It had remained the standard side arm with the military, the police, and the underworld ever since, and was only slowly beginning to be replaced by the Tokarev automatic pistol. The Nagant was a seven-shot revolver which featured an unusual "gas-seal" system in which, as the hammer was cocked, the cylinder was turned and then moved forward, closing the gap between the cylinder and the barrel which existed with every other model of revolver. With this gap sealed, a boost was provided to the muzzle velocity of the fired projectile. It could provide an almost certain kill at forty-five metres, and was the favoured NKVD execution weapon because the sealed firing system meant that the Nagant revolver, unlike most other revolvers, made it the only weapon that could be effectively silenced with a suppressor without reducing the muzzle velocity of the bullet.

Karyn gave an involuntary shiver. Wolff saw this, and assured her that she would be as safe as if she were in the heart of Berlin… the Ivan Surta connection. There came a knock on the door. The orderly entered and told Wolff that his car was waiting. Wolff nodded, and rose from his chair. He put on his black Service cap… his Schirmmütze, and pulled on a pair of black leather service gloves. Picking up the RF-SS Attaché case, he turned to Karyn.

'Shall we…?'

Wolff escorted her down the sweeping staircase, past Giesler, without so much as a glance; as again, the SS-Untersturmführer leapt to his feet and cracked off another fearsomely violent Hitlergruss. Karyn was hard-pressed not to laugh as she heard Wolff mutter under his breath…

"Blödes arschloch!"… Stupid Arsehole!

He ushered her through the entrance of the Ministry building to his waiting car… and what a car! Wolff had ordered his private car round to the front of the building. The pure white, Mercedes-Benz 500K Spezial-Roadster sat at the kerb; the big, five-litre, eight-cylinder engine gently rumbling through the two fat, corrugated-chrome exhaust pipes protruding from the passenger's side of the long, elegant bonnet. Karyn gasped; Wolff smiled.

'My little weakness… the trappings of Office!'

Karyn shook her head in disbelief. She made three hundred and fifty Reichsmarks a month at the University. What on earth did this car cost? As if he had read her mind, Wolff said quietly,

'Twenty-eight thousand Reichsmarks. She was built to order at the Mercedes-Benz Karosserie at Sindelfingen. Come on, jump in, and let's go for a spin.'

Karyn looked him, bemused… Six years salary on a car! A beautiful car, but still… just a car. He opened the passenger door for her and she slid into the sumptuous, deep beige, leather seat, while Wolff opened the dickey-seat panel in the sweeping tail behind her, and dropped in the Attaché case. Climbing into the driving seat, he snicked the Mercedes into first gear and pulled away.

Sweeping round Königsplatz, he turned into Friedensallee down towards Brandenburger Tor. The Mercedes whispered along, slowing at the junction of Charlottenburger Chaussee as the traffic gave way for the passage of someone obviously really important… they'd have to be, to have a car like that… even in Berlin. The Mercedes gathered speed down Hermann-Göring-Strasse, heading towards Potsdamer-Platz, and the engine whisper became a deep rumble as the Berlin pedestrians gawped at the elegant SS Officer and the pretty blonde Fräulein in the magnificent automobile.

Potsdamer Platz was getting busy. They called it "The busiest square in Europe… the Times Square of Berlin." It probably wasn't, but no one really cared. Together with the Alexanderplatz, two kilometres to the east, it was at the heart of Berlin's nightlife. Potsdamer Platz was the geographical centre of the city; the meeting place of five of its busiest streets in a star-shaped intersection deemed to be the transport hub of the continent. In the immediate area were hundreds of shops, hotels, restaurants; cinemas, theatres, dance halls; cafes, bars, and clubs... many of them internationally known.

One of the world’s biggest, and most luxurious department stores… Das Wertheim-Kaufhaus was sited here, together with a huge, multi-national-themed eating establishment…Das Haus Vaterland, which could hold eight thousand people, and contained the world’s largest restaurant which could seat two thousand, five hundred diners on its own. Inside were a total of twelve restaurants, each with live music, and its own "International" flavour. No true Berliner would ever have been caught dead in the wildly Kitsch atmosphere of Das Haus Vaterland; but it did a roaring trade with the provincials and tourists who made their way to Berlin and wanted to experience the excitement and exotica of the Capital city.

A major railway terminus… the Potsdamer Bahnhof, which handled up to eighty thousand passengers a day, was on the west side of the intersection, with Europe’s busiest interchange of surface and underground rail lines. Six hundred trams also passed through Potsdamer Platz every hour, running on forty different routes.

The sharp-eyed, young Verkehrspolizei Unterwachtmeister sitting in the small cabin of "Der fünfeckige Verkehrsturm"… the five-sided, combined police traffic control box and municipal clock tower, rising eight and a half metres above the roadway on its five legs out of the traffic island opposite Leipziger Platz; saw the Mercedes coming down Hermann-Göring-Strasse towards him. Recognising the black SS-Gruppenführer uniform, he quickly switched the large traffic control lamps arrayed in threes, horizontally above each of the five windows of his pentagonal box to red in all directions.

The traffic off Bellvueallee was already halted; as was the traffic from Hermann-Göring-Strasse and Saarland Strasse. He leaned out of the box, and quickly signalled the distinctive dark-yellow cigarette-vending Opel van emerging from Leipziger Strasse to give way, as the traffic coming up Potsdamer Strasse ground to a halt. He then signalled Wolff to continue, by swinging out his red and white Traffic wand… his "Winkerkelle" smartly to his right.

The Mercedes turned across Bellevueallee into Potsdamer Strasse, past the huge, ugly, nine-storey, concrete-and-glass Columbushaus, built five years earlier, with a strong emphasis on the horizontal line... whose upper floors were now occupied by Nazi-affiliated concerns. On an even darker note, those Nazi concerns included the Gestapo, who were rumoured to have set up a secret prison in an upper part of the building, complete with interrogation and torture rooms. Karyn thought how out of place this modern concrete and steel monstrosity was, with the surrounding Neo-baroque buildings. This was not helped by a huge neon sign high up on the roof advertising "DIE BRAUNE POST - N.S. SONNTAGSZEITUNG... (The Brown Post - N.S. Sunday Newspaper".)

The young Verkehrspolizei gave the Mercedes a smart salute, which was returned by Wolff raising his hand in acknowledgement as he accelerated away, heading out towards Schönberg. Traffic was heavy, but then; it was approaching mid-day, and many Berliners were making their way to the cafes and restaurants for their 'mittagspause'… their lunch break. As the Mercedes cruised down towards where Potsdamer Strasse became Hauptstrasse, Karyn settled into the deep leather seat enjoying the wind in her hair in the bright, late-spring Berlin sun. Wolff glanced at her and quietly smiled.

Turning onto Hauptstrasse, the traffic was thinning. The dual carriageway appeared before them. Wolff suddenly stamped on the accelerator and the supercharger cut in with a banshee howl. Karyn was shoved back into her seat as the Mercedes leapt forward. Then… the dual carriageway was ending… Wolff eased off and the supercharger fell silent. He glanced across to her, a broad grin on his face.

'Sorry… I just couldn't resist it… you looked so comfortable and relaxed.'

Karyn snorted,

'Huh!… Boys and toys!'

Then she remembered who he was. She stammered,

'Forgive me, Herr Gruppenführer, I quite forgot who you were.'

Wolff laughed,

'Good! I'm getting fed up with this "Herr Gruppenführer" every time you say anything to me. You forget; you are a civilian… suddenly, a powerful, and important civilian… but still a civilian. You don't have to use my military rank title. Please call me Karl, or, if you are uncomfortable with that, just call me Herr Wolff. In return, if I may be permitted, I shall call you Karyn. "Fräulein Doktor" conjures up to me, some dusty old maiden aunt, and that... you most certainly are not.'

Karyn smiled. She paused for a moment, then asked,

'Herr Wolff, why do you still wear the chevron of a Stabsgefreiter... a Corporal, on your right sleeve when you are of such high rank?'

Wolff laughed,

'It's not that at all. If you look closely, you will see the silver "V" tress has two inner black stripes and a black and silver border. The Stabsgefreiter Armwinkel is just a silver tress. This badge is my "Ehrenwinkel der Alten Kämpfer"… the "Honour Chevron for Old Campaigners." Members who joined the SS or any Party-affiliated organization prior to 1933 are authorized to wear it. I joined in 1931.'

They were approaching the railway bridge at Innsbrucker Platz. Wolff slowed at the junction, watching for traffic emerging from the right, off Innsbrucker Strasse, and then, Wex Strasse. The Mercedes cruised straight over the junction, under the bridge carrying the railway lines to the adjacent S-Bahnhof-Innsbrucker Platz, and accelerated away down the last kilometre of Hauptstrasse before it became Rheinstrasse, running diagonally through Friedenau. Within half a kilometre, Rheinstrasse became Schoss-strasse. Now, they were coming into Steglitz. At the end of Schoss-strasse, Wolff turned right onto Eichen Schloss, and then sharp left onto Wolfensteindamm. He looked a Karyn,

'Not too far now, and then I'll introduce you to a real character… my old friend Sepp.'

She looked at him…

'You don't mean SS-Obergruppenführer Dietrich…?'

He smiled,

'The very same, you'll like him. He doesn't hold the fashionable, extremist views; and his loyalty to his troops remains paramount. He protects them against ReichsFührer-SS Himmler, whom he frequently refers to with barely concealed contempt, as "The Reichsheini"… and considers him utterly mediocre and indistinguishable from the commonplace by any special trait of character. Sepp is a buccaneer, and probably the most colourful member of the SS High Command. He is also a talented race car driver and an avid hunter.'

Karyn nodded. She'd heard a lot about Dietrich…. of how, in The Great War, he was in one of the German army's first panzer units, becoming one of the army's most decorated tank commanders, and one of its first tank aces. Of how, after the Armistice, his life continued to be laced with adventure and danger. More importantly, he belonged to Hitler's inner circle of advisors. He accompanied the Führer on all outings and to all engagements; had all manner of talks with him, and often lunched and dined with Hitler, who admired "Sepp" in all ways. Fearless, unswervingly loyal, and as straight as an arrow, Dietrich became one of his closest, and most constant associates. He worked and lived in the Chancellery, occupying a room in the Führer's suite.

Dietrich was said to have warned Hitler that, during the run-up to the 1936 Summer Olympics in Berlin, movements to boycott the Berlin Olympics were surfacing in the United States, Great Britain; France, Sweden, Czechoslovakia; and the Netherlands. Perhaps, due to this warning, in August 1936, the NSDAP tried to camouflage its virulent racist policies while it hosted the Summer Olympics. Most anti-Jewish signs were temporarily removed, and newspapers toned down their harsh rhetoric to present foreign spectators and journalists with a false image of a peaceful, tolerant Germany. No one but Dietrich would have dared to bring this glaringly obvious fact to the attention of the Führer for fear igniting Hitler's irascible temper.

Wolfensteindamm swung left and became Hindenburgdamm, bearing right, after about a kilometre to where the road divided around the tree-studded island where the great red spire of Pauluskirche, dwarfing the smaller Alt Dorfkirche built a little further down the island, loomed to their left. A little beyond where the carriageways of Hindenburgdamm merged again, Wolff turned left onto Karwendelstrasse, cruising down to, and crossing the junction with Drakestrasse, then turning right into Finkensteinallee… a cobble-stoned street lined with massive old lilac trees.

Within barely two hundred metres, Wolff turned left into the imposing entrance of Finkensteinallee 63… the Berlin-Lichterfelde Kaserne der Leibstandarte-SS Adolf Hitler; passing between the two long guard buildings without stopping; and on through the wide iron gates flanked to each side with the four-metre high, Stone sentinel statues of "Der Ewigen Reichsrottenführer"… "The Imperishable Corporals." The Mercedes swept onto Der Platz am Haupteingang… the large, checkerboard paved and cobbled platz in front of the high, four pillared, porticoed façade of the square, austere Leibstandarte Headquarters building; stopping under the gaze of the huge Eagle perched on top of the building above the legend:

"LEIBSTANDARTE SS ADOLF HITLER"

emblazoned across the cornice of the false portico. The Eagle was flanked by two flagpoles; the left-hand one flying a blood-red Hakenkreuzfahne; while the right-hand one was adorned with the silver bordered, black flag bearing the Silver LSSAH Cypher. Three long, blood-red Hakenkreuz banners were draped down between the pillars, fluttering ominously in the gentle breeze.

Wolff climbed out of the Mercedes and walked around the front of the car to open the passenger door for Karyn. As he did; the Musikkorps der Leibstandarte came swanking around the far corner of the long, three storey Headquarters building, led by their Second-in-Command: Leibstandarten-Korpsführer Gustav Weissenborn. As they came onto the wide courtyard, they struck up with Der Badenweiler-Marsch... said to be Hitler's favourite March, often played as the Führer's "Entrance theme." When it was performed in public, the band playing it had absolute priority over everything else... it was said that even Panzer formations had been known to grind to a halt to let a band pass if they were playing Der Badenweiler.

Wolff snapped sharply to attention and cracked off a perfect Hitlergruss, as did every other Leibstandarte member in the great square in front of the Headquarters building. Karyn thought she'd better do the same. They stood frozen, as the Leibstandarte Musikkorps strutted past. Korpsführer Weissenborn returned the Hitlergruss without even bothering to look at Wolff.

The Leibstandarte Musikkorps continued ostentatiously across the full width of the Headquarters platz, with Weissenborn pompously beating time with his silver-crowned, Malacca signal baton. As the band approached the end of the building, he snapped out the left-wheel signal baton command by thrusting his signal baton ferrule pointing opposite his intended direction of turn. The Musikkorps swanked away down the roadway between the far corner of the Headquarters and the huge swimming pool building. As the last rank of the Musikkorps disappeared around the side of the Headquarters building, and the bellicose strains of Der Badenweiler diminished; Wolff lowered his arm. He smiled,

'Korpsführer Weissenborn is a real "Klugscheisser"… a smart ass; and about as popular with his bandsmen as a pork chop in a Rabbi’s coat pocket. You could see that he would have just loved to order the band into "Der Stechschritt"… The Parade march, except that his bandsmen couldn't possibly swing their legs up to thigh level with toes pointed; and do so as lithely, briskly, and rhythmically as a chorus girl, keeping their knees locked while playing their instruments and moving forward on one foot while bringing the other poised boot down on the stone flags with a smack. And this has to be done in time, with a precision as though thirty men are one.

That Parade March has ripped more groin muscles than anything else in the Reich Armed forces has ever managed to do. It takes months of practice to do it properly, and Sepp has said that if he sees anyone ordering it performed, other than on Honour Parade… then the shit will really hit the fan. Weissenborn really is all "Sieg Heil and Jackboot polish," I wouldn't be surprised if he actually polishes the hobnails in the soles of his Marschstiefelen.'

Karyn was a little shocked at this… after all, Weissenborn was SS-Hauptscharführer in LSSAH, but then again; Wolff was SS-Gruppenführer, and friends with SS-Obergruppenführer Sepp Dietrich… Kommandant of the Lichterfelde Kaserne. As she was looking nervously around to see if anyone had overheard Wolff's words, an SS-Hauptsturmführer came across the platz towards them. He halted before Wolff and gave a beautifully formal Hitlergruss, which was returned by Wolff and Karyn. Then; he held out his hand, and welcomed them to the Kaserne.

Wolff introduced him to Karyn. This was Hans Collani, adjutant to Dietrich. He would be about thirty, attractive in a sort of Friesian farmer way… blonde and sturdy, with a strong face. He was not Karyn's type at all, but was not unpleasant to look at… unlike many of the Berlin Nazis that she had met. His manners however, were impeccable. He snapped the heel-irons of his highly- polished Marschstiefelen together, and kissed her hand. Wolff explained their presence, asking that Karyn be familiarised with the Walther in the small-arms range. Hans Collani smiled,

'Certainly, and I have just the man to do it. Werner Schütt… ex-SS-Sonderkommando Zossen. Come to my office, and I'll arrange for him to join us.'

As he led them into the Headquarters building, Wolff explained that this was indeed a rare privilege. SS-Sonderkommando Zossen was a cornerstone of the LSSAH. In the spring of 1933, a decision was made to form an elite unit within the already elite SS. These elite of the elite were to be a new, special bodyguard unit formed from handpicked SS men, to act as the special bodyguard of Hitler, and to be responsible only to his wishes. This new unit was named the SS-Stabswache Berlin. Shortly after its formation, the SS-Stabswache Berlin was formed under the command of SS-Gruppenführer Josef 'Sepp' Dietrich. He handpicked one hundred and seventeen men to form the SS-Stabswache. The unit was based here, at the Lichterfelde Kaserne. Later in 1933, the formation was re-designated SS-Sonderkommando Zossen, and a second unit of one hundred and twenty men, designated SS-Sonderkommando Jüterbog was raised.

The two Sonderkommandos provided guards for the NSDAP hierarchy; functioned as training cadres for the SS, and for a short time, acted as auxiliary police units. In September 1933, both units were absorbed into the SS-Sonderkommando Berlin, at which time; its designation was changed once more to the Adolf Hitler-Standarte. On November 8th-9th, 1933; the tenth anniversary of the failed Munich Putsch; the entire Adolf Hitler-Standarte took part in a mass oath-taking rally in honour of those killed in the 1923 uprising. The rally took place in Munich at the location of the Feldherrnhalle, erected on the spot where many of the party members had been killed during the failed Putsch. During this rally, each member personally swore his life to the Führer. Also, during this rally, the unit was again renamed, this time as the Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler.

In 1934, by order of Himmler, the initials "SS" were added to the Leibstandarte's title, thus becoming the Leibstandarte-SS Adolf Hitler. (LSSAH). That same year, Sepp Dietrich was promoted to SS-Obergruppenführer, the day after Hitler told him to take six men and go to the Ministry of Justice to execute a number of SA leaders on the prepared list of political enemies… the notorious "Die Reich-Liste der Unerwünscht Personen"... "The Reich List of Unwanted Persons."

Saturday, June 30th, 1934, was one of the hottest days Berlin had ever known, but it has gone down in history as one of the bloodiest. Long before sunrise on that day, the city had been surrounded by an unbroken cordon of troops. All roads leading in and out were closed, guarded by the men who served under General Göring and ReichsFührer-SS Himmler. This action opened what was to be cynically known as "Reichsmordwoche"…"Reich Murder Week," and culminated in "Die Röhm Affäre"... the Röhm Affair; and the Night of the Long Knives. At about 10 a.m. a phone call was placed from Hitler in Munich to Göring in Berlin with the prearranged code word "Kolibri"... Hummingbird... that unleashed a wave of murderous violence in Berlin and over twenty other cities.

SS execution squads along with Göring's private police force… Die Landespolizeigruppe General Göring, roared through the streets of Berlin hunting down SA leaders and anyone else on the prepared list of political enemies. Some one hundred and fifty SA leaders were rounded up, stood against a wall of the Cadet School at Lichterfelde, and shot by firing squads of SS and Göring’s special Police unit.

SA leader Ernst Röhm was held briefly at Stadelheim Prison in Munich. There, on July 2nd, he was visited by SS-Brigadeführer Theodor Eicke, who was then the Commandant of Dachau; and SS-Sturmbannführer Michael Lippert. Lippert shot Röhm at point-blank range after he refused to commit suicide with a pistol given to him.

When the Röhm Affäre was officially completed on the 13th of July, 1934, around one hundred and seventy people had been executed; the SS had become independent and no longer subordinate to the SA; and the ambitious and problematic SA leader, Ernst Röhm, had been eliminated. Fifteen days later the soldiers who had formed the firing squads, together with all, but four officers, were thrown out of the SS… a total of six thousand men. Before the year was out, thirty-five hundred of them had been executed under various trumped-up charges. This was an idea of Eicke's, a final clean sweep, as it were; and it was loudly applauded by an appreciative Göring. Those who survived were packed off to the internment camp at Borgermoor where, for the most part, they were simply left to rot.

According to Goebbels, Minister of Propaganda, they had met their deaths while quelling the SA revolt, and Rudolph Hess... Hitler's Deputy Führer; even went so far as to hold them up to the public as brave men and martyrs.