Beneath Gray Skies (37 page)

“Well, isn’t that our problem? That our opponents are all over the board, meaning we can’t take them all at once?”

“Agreed,” said Weisstal.

“And then he said that he wanted to fly on the airship.”

“So?”

“So the answer is that we put them all on the airship, all the Confederates and Nazis together. All the eggs in one basket.”

“Tell me what you mean,” demanded Weisstal.

“Look, it’s simple. We let the
Bismarck
dock at the mooring mast as planned. We take off half the crew who aren’t needed on board for a short flight, and replace them with Jefferson Davis and his cabinet. Dump ballast as necessary. Then the
Bismarck
takes off again for a flight of a few hours at the most with her distinguished Confederate passengers as guests of the Nazis. Maybe she flies over Atlanta, but I think that’s too far for this little trip. When it approaches Cordele, the crew still on board leave the airship in midair, which then suffers a mysterious accident and all left on the airship tragically perish.”

“It sounds as though there would be too many loose ends, and a lot of people would be suspicious,” objected Vickers.

“A damned sight less suspicious than a mysterious disappearance of Davis and his Cabinet, for sure.”

“A detail,” enquired Weisstal. “What kind of mysterious accident are you thinking of?”

“Actually, it needn’t be that mysterious. We’re talking about leaving a bunch of politicians two or three thousand feet up in the air with no way of getting down. How mysterious do you want it to be? They might even starve to death floating around up there. And the gallant Major Weisstal could be in constant contact on the wireless, telling Jeff Davis what wheel to turn to come back down.”

“Thank you, but I think I’ll forego that pleasure,” said Weisstal stiffly. “But it makes sense, all the same. There should be a backup to ensure an accident, if there is no real accident forthcoming, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” agreed Brian. “I’m sure we can think of something.”

“It is really a good way to kill two birds with one rock,” said Weisstal.

“‘Stone’,” Brian corrected. “The phrase is ‘two birds with one stone’.”

“Excuse me,” interrupted Vickers. “We have a slight problem which you two don’t seem to have considered. There is nothing in the official plans for the visit that calls for the Confederate executive branch to travel on the
Bismarck
.”

“Then it’s up to you two to make sure that it happens. Colonel, you did say to me that you were fairly close to the top of things? I’m sure it would be possible for you to make a suggestion to Mr. Davis? Someone told me he was interested in aviation.”

“He can’t just invite himself,” pointed out Vickers. “There would have to be an invitation.”

“And that’s your job, Major,” added Brian cheerfully, turning to Weisstal. “When is the
Bismarck
due to depart from Friedrichshafen?”

Weisstal looked at his watch, and did a brief mental calculation. “Weather permitting, in about 48 hours.”

“Then you have time to send a cable to Goering or whoever you’re reporting to in Berlin and get him to send an official invitation. Tell him that President Davis has expressed a strong desire to experience a flight on the
Bismarck
. And you,” turning back to Vickers, “your job is to tell President Davis that Goering has expressed a strong desire to invite him as a guest on the
Bismarck
.”

The two other men looked at each other and started to laugh. “If that isn’t the best example of playing both ends against the middle, then I don’t know what is,” said Vickers.

“Make sure that the whole of the Confederate Cabinet gets on there,” Brian reminded them.

“And what are you going to be doing?” asked Vickers.

“Well, as a captured spy who’s also probably wanted by the Nazis, I think I’m not likely to be showing my face around the place too much. The other thing we have to do is to get some sort of message to your airship captain—Eckener, isn’t it?—and let him know what’s going on, without alerting his passengers.”

“Better to wait until he’s in the air. I am sure the base at Friedrichshafen will be crawling with the Nazis and their political police. We’ve already established the radio protocols between the airship and here. We’ll be using a special variation of the standard Army code, and a frequency no-one else is using, as far as we know.”

“How sure are you of Eckener?” Vickers asked Weisstal.

“I’m sure that he’s anti-Nazi. He’s famous for it, and he would have been replaced as captain for this flight if there was anyone better. It was Goering who put his foot down and complained that he wasn’t going to be piloted by a political hack, and he preferred a good pilot to a good Nazi.”

“Hermann Goering sounds like a man of sense,” said Vickers.

“Except that in this case, of course, the good Nazi would be a better choice for him than the good captain, or so we hope,” Brian pointed out.

“What about his crew?” asked Vickers.

“Eckener picks his own crews. I can’t imagine that he’s going to choose anyone who disagrees with him on politics.”

“And what security is on board to protect the Nazis?” asked Vickers.

Weisstal laughed. “What kind of security are you talking about? What danger of assassins could there possibly be to Hitler and the rest of them on board an airship? There’s no guard at all. My job includes the organization of the Germans here to protect them when they step off the airship, as you know, Colonel.”

“So to sum it all up,” said Brian, “if we can get a message to Eckener, letting him know what’s in the wind, we’re reasonably confident that he will take notice of it, and reasonably confident that his crew will follow him?”

“Essentially, yes,” replied Weisstal.

“Would you care to quote odds on that, Major?” asked Vickers.

“No, I’m not a gambling man, but I would say our chances are better than half that this will succeed.”

“Not very high,” commented Brian, sardonically. “And what happens if we fail?” The others looked at him curiously. “Come on, don’t you ever plan for the worst?”

“No,” answered Weisstal. “Do you?”

“Always,” replied Brian.

“Ah,” Weisstal said. “I begin to understand why we lost the war against you Englishmen. You always knew what to do if things went wrong. We always assumed they’d go well, and planned accordingly, or rather, we failed to plan for failure.”

“Be that as it may,” put in Vickers. “I think that if we fail, you, Captain Finch-Malloy, will be shot as originally planned. As will I, no doubt. And you, Major?”

“Whatever happens, it won’t be pleasant. I shall make sure there is at least one bullet in my pistol at all times. You may choose to consider a similar option, Colonel.”

“I don’t have that luxury,” commented Brian bitterly.

“Look on the bright side,” remarked Weisstal. “It may not come to that at all.”

“
I’m sure the Confederates are going to be overwhelmed when they see that.”

“
Y
ou have to admit that it looks perfectly foul,” said Eckener. He was referring to the large red, white and black swastika designs adorning (“polluting” was the word Eckener used) the huge tail-fins of
Bismarck
.

“Count Zeppelin built his airships for the whole of Germany, not for one political party,” he grumbled. “I know we can’t have the Imperial eagle, but can’t we do better than this crooked cross business?”

“At least you kept the name of Hitler off the bows,” Dietelbaum consoled him.

“I suppose so,” Eckener grudgingly admitted. “But despite all that, she’s a good ship.”

-o-

H
e had reason to be proud. The giant silver
Bismarck
, floating in her shed at “neutral buoyancy”, neither heavier nor lighter than air, was enormous; the largest airship ever built, nearly 800 feet long, and able to lift nearly 60 tons. As long as many of the great ocean liners, she was as tall as a twelve-story building. The control car near the bow below the hull contained the captain’s position and stations for the elevator and rudder helmsmen, as well as for the navigation personnel and equipment. Signals between the control car and the other parts of the ship were carried by speaking tube, and in the case of engine orders, by telegraph signals, similar to those on a ship.

Behind the control car, and separated from it, the two-deck car containing the passenger accommodation stretched below the hull for about 120 feet. The passenger accommodations for the secretaries and assistants accompanying the Nazi delegation were on the upper deck, together with washing and toilet facilities. Towards the front of this deck was a luxury lounge, with panoramic windows giving a fine view outside the airship. On the lower deck, reached by a small spiral staircase, the passengers could enter the dining-room, fitted with lightweight aluminum tables and chairs, and furnished with fine linen, silverware and glasses to complement the gourmet food prepared on electric stoves in the passenger galley. On this trip, the wine “cellar” would be empty, since Hitler was a virtual teetotaler and did not approve of drinking in his presence.

A promenade deck extended on either side of the dining-room, forming a kind of gallery, and allowing the passengers to stretch their legs and gaze at the miraculous world passing below. Forward of the dining area were more staterooms and accommodation for the VIPs, who would travel in considerable comfort, with private single berths, separated from each other by thin partitions. On this deck there were two communal showers, together with toilets. Since the partitions were all lightweight and movable, it was possible to redesign the passenger areas depending on the nature of the flight. For this flight, the relatively small number of Nazi VIPs would receive substantially more living space per person than commercial passengers would enjoy.

The crew, including Eckener, lived in much more Spartan accommodation, all contained within the hull in a small area above the keel and below the enormous swaying gasbags, between the canvas water ballast tanks, sleeping in hammocks and eating either at their duty stations, or in the bunk rooms that doubled as mess spaces. Even the airship officers lived in the same conditions, albeit in a different area of the ship, and this fostered a sense of solidarity. Most of the crew, although specialists in one field, were capable of doing many jobs, and it was not uncommon to see the officers performing manual labor alongside the men. Catwalks and ladders within the hull enabled riggers to access any part of the duralumin skeleton, cross-braced with an intricate structure of taut wires, and make adjustments to the tension of these wires, or to put padding in place to prevent chafing of the paper-thin gasbags. In an emergency, the riggers could venture through hatches onto the outside of the hull to repair the outer fabric covering, or to adjust the newly designed special helium compensation valves.

Three engine nacelles were mounted on sponsons on each side of the hull, accessed through external ladders and catwalks, and each containing a huge 12-cylinder Maybach VL 1 engine, capable of producing over 420 horsepower. As the six engines burned their fuel, the airship became lighter, and a hydrogen-filled Zeppelin vented the cheap hydrogen gas into the sky to compensate. Since
Bismarck
was planned as a helium-filled dirigible, with helium being considerably rarer and more expensive than hydrogen, a different system had to be adopted. Although Eckener had wanted to use a new type of engine employing a neutral buoyancy flammable gas as fuel, the Maybach factory had been unable to deliver a reliable example of such an engine for this flight. Instead, a condenser system extracted and collected water from the engine exhausts, and thereby maintained neutral buoyancy, with none of the valuable helium gas being lost.

Massive 15-foot propellers at the rear of each nacelle drove the airship through the skies at a theoretical maximum airspeed of over 75 nautical miles per hour, though in test flights,
Bismarck
had substantially exceeded that speed. Again, Eckener had wanted to use new techniques, this time to avoid wear and tear on the gearboxes, by using some kind of variable-pitch propellers, currently in the experimental stage of development. However, at a relatively late point in the construction process it had transpired that these were some way from being a working proposition, and he had reluctantly been forced into the use of more traditional fixed-pitch airscrews.