ODESSA
Close to the war’s end, the SS command saw Germany’s coming defeat and began to organize their escape to South America.
They formed ODESSA, an acronym of Organisation der ehemaligen SS-Angehörigen, or the Organization of Former Members of the SS.
It is unknown how many Nazis used this group to make their way to South America.
Many were captured and prosecuted after the war but hundreds simply disappeared.
These political and military groups were key players in Germany prior to and during World War II.
They were directly responsible for some of the most heinous crimes against humanity known to man.
This book tells a fictional story that is based on actual historical facts from the war.
1945
March 30, 1945
Outside a Bunker Entrance 300 Kilometers Southwest of Berlin, Germany;
2:40 a.m.
The gray Citroen 11CV staff car rolled to a stop in a small clearing near the top of the mountain.
The forest surrounding the small dirt and gravel road gave the appearance of a long, dark cave.
The road ended here, miles from the main road.
Two German officers got out of the car, their boots crunching as they stepped on the icy gravel.
Both turned to see the six trucks following them, engines growling up the short rise and coming to a halt behind their car.
Each of the trucks’ headlights, covered in blackout louvers, cast an eerie light on the ground ahead.
A light snow was falling; the tiny flakes twinkling in the weak light from the headlights.
“Turn off those lights!” barked one of the officers.
He was ill at ease with so much light.
The drivers complied, and the two German officers were left standing in total darkness.
It was dark as pitch and freezing.
“Where in the hell are we?” the other officer asked, clearly not happy with their destination.
They were in the middle of nowhere.
“One moment, sir,” answered
Oberleutnant
Maximillian Schneider.
The cold wind blew, swirling around the two men like an icy claw trying to snatch them off of this earth.
SS
Sturmbahnführer
Reinhardt Rauch shuffled his feet, pulling the collar of his heavy leather overcoat up over his ears to avoid the cold wind.
He looked around trying to make out anything familiar in the near total darkness.
Even though his eyes were adjusting, he was unable to see anything beyond a few feet.
He grimaced at the cold.
“Damn this cold.
What the hell are we doing here?” Rauch asked the question but expected no answer.
His impatience showed.
This secret trek was getting more bizarre every moment.
He was on a remote mountain road and a dead end at that!
A major in the
SS
should not have to put up with this; especially out in the middle of nowhere.
He would have someone’s ass for this impertinence.
There was no excuse for this, secret orders or not.
A strong gust of wind blew across his face.
The silence of the forest was eerie.
Oberleutnant Schneider, standing just to Major Rauch’s left, looked into the darkness, trying to find an answer for his major.
Schneider’s orders were clear; bring Major Rauch and these trucks to this location.
Beyond that, nothing was revealed.
All they found here was darkness.
His eyes squinted to protect them from the hundreds of tiny, blowing snowflakes that he felt hitting his face.
With the moon obscured by the heavy clouds, he could barely make out the tree limbs several feet above his head, but he could hear them.
As the wind slithered through the branches, it caused odd creaking and cracking sounds.
Winter was in its waning days throughout most of Germany but not here, not this night.
The darkness hid the snow as it fell but Schneider could see that the light snowfall had sprinkled the ground with a dusting that blew around in little swirls when the wind kicked up.
The leaves on the ground moved around as if large hands were brushing them here and there.
Nature was the only one speaking this night.
It was cold, dark and unnaturally quiet.
One could almost hear the snow hitting the ground.
As Schneider’s eyes readjusted to the dark, he found what he was looking for.
He strode over to what looked like a cave-like opening in the hillside across from the clearing at the end of the road.
Set back in the darkness of the opening was a barely visible large steel door.
The door was reset into a concrete wall about eight to ten feet from the opening.
He could see the structure was fairly new.
The concrete was fresh and the door did not have the tell-tale signs of rust that would surely occur facing the elements.
This entrance was plain.
There were no lights, signs or warnings.
The structure looked like a natural cave.
In front of the “cave” there was a clearing; no pavement of any kind.
It was simply the forest’s dirt floor.
Looking closer, a formidable guard force was hidden from view.
The guards could see anyone approaching.
And if not expected, death would follow swiftly.
“Please, sir, over here,” Schneider summoned as he stopped just inside the cave.
Rauch walked over, clearly not happy with the situation.
But at least it got him out of the wind.
“We must check in.”
A puzzled Rauch strained his eyes trying very hard to see and understand what the hell this fool was saying.
“Check in? What the hell are you talking about, Oberleutnant?” queried Rauch stepping closer to Schneider.
Was this guy crazy?
Then his eyes adjusted and he saw the steel door and concrete.
A bunker!
Within seconds a small slit opened on the concrete wall’s left side.
Schneider presented his orders and identification along with Rauch’s to the pair of guard eyes peering from the gun slit in the wall.
Rauch turned his head to the right and saw three guards manning an identical setup on the opposite wall.
Just a few inches of the barrel of a
Maschinengewehr-
34
light machine gun poked from another concealed port aimed directly at them.
Schneider passed the credentials through a small steel port into a safe-like box.
The port closed.
It was quiet as death as the two men waited in the cold darkness.
After a full five minutes, Rauch was incensed.
“This is ridiculous.
I’m freezing standing out here.
I’ll be in the car,” huffed Rauch as he turned away, hunching over trying to make a smaller target for the cold wind.
“Let me know when they answer or if they answer.
I’ll give them three more minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” answered the oberleutnant, shivering as much from fear as from the cold.
Rauch trudged back to the staff car parked in a clearing just off the gravel road, about ten meters from the bunker door.
As he walked back he looked around, noticing several slight indentions in the grass and dirt.
They were tire tracks, some large ones at that.
It looked like other vehicles had been here.
He was amazed that the oberleutnant had even found this needle-in-a-haystack.
After driving for hours, turning up at this God-forsaken place was even more puzzling.
It was downright baffling!
He reached the car, opened the rear door and climbed into the back seat.
It was cold inside, but at least he was out of that damned wind.
The back leather seat was frozen, creaking as he struggled to get comfortable.
What heat the car had generated had withered away with the motor not running.
How in the hell did I get into this mess, Rauch thought to himself.
He peered through the fogged-up side window, straining to see if Schneider was still there.
He wiped the cold glass with his glove leaving a blurry opening.
He peered out trying to make out the figure of Schneider in the darkness.
Yeah, the good little oberleutnant was still there, probably afraid to move.
What happened to the German Army, wondered Rauch.
We have nothing but shave-tailed kids playing soldier.
They are so young, so intent on serving the Fatherland.
Dumbasses!
They had no concept of what was really going on.
He looked at Schneider.
He was the perfect tin soldier.
Rauch turned away from the window.
He closed his eyes trying to clear his mind from distractions.
He could hear the rumbling of the trucks’ engines parked behind them.
The truckers seemed to have more sense to keep their vehicles running even though the meager heating units sucked.
But any warmth out here was better than none.
Goddamned army...
Suddenly a voice growled from a small speaker imbedded in the ceiling of the concrete structure.
“When the door opens, enter quickly and stand in the center of the room.”
Schneider turned and called to the major to join him.
They were going in…
March 28, 1945
Regimental Headquarters East of Weimar, Germany;
5:30 p.m.
This endeavor started two days ago when Major Rauch received “secret” orders sealed in an official
Schutzstaffel
message pouch.
The messenger, accompanied by a guard, burst into the headquarters building demanding to see Rauch.
When the orderly in charge offered to take the pouch, the messenger leered at him with such devilish eyes that the orderly simply stopped in mid-sentence and turned away like a beaten dog.
“This pouch is to be delivered to Sturmbannführer Rauch personally,” snapped the messenger.
The guard stood at attention two steps behind the messenger.
Both were immaculately dressed; so perfect they looked like statues.
Everyone in the room fell silent.
All work ceased.
It was as if time froze for a moment as Rauch slowly stood up from his desk across the room.
“I am Sturmbannführer Rauch,” trying to relish the importance of the moment being afforded him, although internally his mind was racing…
what the hell have I done?
All eyes turned upon him as he strolled over to the messenger, making damned sure he showed no emotion even though he was definitely worried.
He was present when other officers had been arrested on the spot for various infractions.
He even witnessed a fellow officer dragged outside, placed against a wall and summarily shot.
Anything was possible in this German army.
But this affair seemed different.
“SS Sturmbannführer Reinhardt Rauch?” the messenger repeated.