The Scandal of Mercy (Joe Boyd Suspense Series Book 3), page 1
The Scandal of Mercy
Dan Walsh
Bainbridge Press
Contents
Prologue (Scene 1)
Prologue (Scene 2)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Epilogue
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
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Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright Info
Prologue (Scene 1)
April 26, 1945
Kaufering IV Concentration Camp
A Sub-Camp of the Dachau Complex
SS Officer Obersturmbannführer Hans Zander watched in horror as a massive crowd of Jews—essentially, those still able to walk—were being marched away from the main entrance of the camp, heading south on a road toward Dachau. Along with and walking beside the Jews—beating and prodding them at regular intervals—were most of the other SS officers and guards Zander had served with at Kaufering for the past two years. Leading this procession in his staff car was their camp commandant, SS-Standartenführer Franz Heydrich, along with the rest of his key staff members.
Zander’s sense of horror stemmed from the realization he was being left behind. Heydrich, and everyone else Zander was now observing from the front gate, would not be coming back.
Ever.
Recent reports had confirmed the Allies 12th Armored Division, along with units of the 101st Airborne, were less than two days north of the camp. Hence, Heydrich’s rapid departure to the south.
By rights, as second-in-command, Zander should be sitting in that staff car beside the commandant. This significant assignment Heydrich had given him could easily have gone to any junior officer in camp. When Zander had respectfully appealed, Heydrich dismissed him, emphasizing—in front of the entire staff—the critical nature of the tasks, saying they could only be handled by someone who still enjoyed Heydrich’s total and complete trust.
Zander knew, this was utter nonsense.
The simple truth was…Zander knew too much. He had personally seen enough atrocities carried out directly by Heydrich—or under his direct orders—to ensure the man would hang for war crimes once the war ended. Which everyone knew—but dare not say aloud—would happen within a matter of weeks, if not days.
Of course, Zander had committed his own fair share of atrocities since coming to the camp two years ago, but they were a fraction compared to those done by Heydrich.
This was the real reason Heydrich was fleeing south now.
He was the camp commander. They had heard reports that commanders and leading officers of similar concentration camps were being summarily executed without a trial when the camps had been overrun by Russians in the East.
Heydrich had told Zander since their camp would likely be captured by the Americans, he needn’t worry if they arrived before Zander and the guards helping him could escape. “The Americans are not animals like the Russians,” he’d said. “They believe in the Geneva Convention.”
That may be true, but Zander knew…if he carried out Heydrich’s last assignment, the rage generated from seeing hundreds of weak and sick Jewish prisoners freshly massacred could easily make them forget the Geneva Convention.
He turned and surveyed the condition of things in the camp now, tried to imagine how they’d appear to Allied troops who just arrived.
He sighed.
Even to him, it was utterly revolting.
Stacks of dead bodies lay about here and there in plain view, piled high like cordwood. Dozens of confused, emaciated Jewish men in filthy striped garb, meandered about in the dirt, like living corpses. The soldiers would quickly find within the rotting walls of the wooden barracks, hundreds more prisoners too ill to even get up, packed in like sardines, lying on wooden slats. Row after row of them.
All these pathetic souls were Zander’s final assignment. He and the guards were to kill them all, so there’d be no one left to testify about what had happened here.
Then he was to burn down the camp headquarter buildings to the ground. He must stay long enough to ensure that all camp records and files were completely incinerated. Once these two things were accomplished, he and the remaining guards could use the Kubelwagen and truck Heydrich had left behind, and join them in Dachau.
“Obersturmbannführer Zander,” a deep voice yelled out. “What are your orders, sir?”
Zander turned to see the familiar face of Sergeant Schmidt, the squad leader of the remaining SS guards.
“Commandant Heydrich, he seemed to be…to want us to carry out his orders most urgently. Shouldn’t we begin? We need to know how you want us to proceed. Do you have any directions, sir?”
Zander sighed again, looked back down the main road. Only a handful of the multitude marching to Dachau could still be seen. He turned to face Schmidt and the others. “You men gather around. I have something important to say. Something that will be…difficult for you to hear. But you need to hear it.”
The men looked confused but, of course, they obeyed and came close.
“For the sake of the watching prisoners,” Zander said, “stand at attention while I speak. But if they weren’t here, I’d invite you to sit around in a circle and we’d speak as friends.” That only furthered their confusion but Zander wanted it said.
“I am going to speak to you as men, not as children who must do as they are told, who speak only when spoken to. I am going to tell you things as they are, not as we wish them to be. Everything I’m about to say is from confirmed reports, mind you. But things we have kept from you all until now.”
He looked at them, straight into their eyes. They seemed slightly less alarmed. “You men must know by now, the war is lost.” See? No one reacted to this. They really did know. “It breaks my heart to say this, as I’m sure it does yours. We have not officially surrendered. But the Allied troops are less than two days from here. Even that could be wrong. They could be here tomorrow.” Their eyes widened at these words.
“Sir,” Schmidt asked. “If I may, if the war is truly lost, why did the Commandant take all the healthy prisoners south to Dachau? It would seem—if they are not to be used to help us defend the Fatherland—why not leave them here with the sick ones, and kill them all along with the rest? Instead of guarding thousands of Jews, we could all be sent to the front lines to fight.”
“Not a bad question, Schmidt,” Zander said. “The reason this march was undertaken today…it’s…well, complicated. The simple answer is, it’s a measure to buy some time. That’s all. A week, maybe two at the most. The Führer and those leading us at the very top, do not want to face the reality of how the war is going. They refuse to admit what all the Wehrmacht generals know to be true. You can see it for yourselves. Almost every night, hundreds of Allied bombers fly overhead. Do you ever see any Luftwaffe fighters rise up to meet them? No, not for weeks now. The Luftwaffe is kaput. Hundreds of our planes have been shot down or destroyed on the ground. We have no fuel left for those that remain.”
Now their faces registered the truth. “In the Ruhr pocket,” Zander said, “over 300,000 Wehrmacht troops have surrendered to the Allies in recent days. Why do you think camps like ours in the west are all closing up and fleeing to the interior? In the east with the Russians, things are far worse. We’ve heard they are near the outskirts of Berlin.” He looked right at Schmidt. “There are no front lines anymore, Sergeant. Not on our side. Only the Allies have forces still in the fight. And they are headed here. Right here to this camp.”
“Then what are we to do?” one of the others said.
“Well, I’ll tell you what we are not going to do?” Zander said. “We are not going to carry out the Commandant’s last order. We’re not going to kill the prisoners. It will be bad enough for the Americans to come and see things as they are. Far worse for us if they see hundreds of recently-slaughtered prisoners throughout the camp. I’m sure you realize, the Allies do not hold to our…views regarding the superiority of the master race, nor the inferiority of the Jews. They will see everything we have done here as…”
“War crimes?” Schmidt said.
“Yes. War crimes. Crimes that are, to them, worthy of execution.”
“Then are we to just stay here till the Allies come, guarding the prisoners? Won’t that mean they will—”
“No,” Zander said. “When I am done speaking, it will be as if I’m a captain of a ship. A ship that is about to sink. And I’m giving the order to abandon that ship. And then it will be…every man for himself. You are free to leave, to go home or anywhere else you please. But understand, if you are caught by those still loyal to Hitler, you will likely be shot or hanged as a deserter.”
He paused, everyone looked at each other, faces full of sadness. But they were nodding and agreeing.
“What about the prisoners?” Schmidt said. “What will happen to them if we just leave?”
“That is not your concern any longer,” Zander said. “The Allies will be here soon. Let them decide their fate.” He was just about to dismiss them when he remembered something.
“One more thing, men.” He pointed to the SS badge on his collar. “You should be aware, if you decide to surrender to the Allies, you may want to consider getting rid of any visible connection to the SS. The reports are, they are treating SS with special harshness compared to regular Wehrmacht troops.”
That was it then.
He looked at everyone, still standing around, mostly at attention as before. “Okay men, I will say it then. Abandon ship.”
Prologue (Scene 2)
Same Day
50 miles South of
Stuttgart, Germany
Hans Zander was riding northwest on a deserted road bordered by thick pine trees, feeling rather desperate. About an hour ago, he had dismissed the remaining SS guards at the camp and commandeered the Kubelwagen, before anyone else got the idea to nab it for themselves. His last view of the men was through the rearview mirror, as they stood around in utter confusion muttering to each other.
It was sad to see. Men wholly unfamiliar with the concept of thinking for themselves.
They had been that way since the moment they had donned the Nazi uniform, many since their first days with the Hitler Youth. Now they had nowhere to go. No one to tell them where to go or what to do. No matter. They were not Zander's concern any longer. Already — a mere one hundred kilometers behind him — and his mind had already dismissed them. For two years, they had served together, but now they belonged to the past. He would never see any of them again. No fond memories to retain, because none had been made.
He must focus now on the present and the future. Like the road ahead of him, straight and narrow.
But the truth was, if he didn't come across any regular German soldiers soon before running into an American patrol, his plans would be ruined. Worse, since he still wore his SS officer's uniform, it could be the end of his life. He wasn't exaggerating with the men. He and Heydrich really had heard reliable reports of SS officers being summarily executed when captured. It was becoming readily apparent to the Allies as they conquered more and more territory, the SS were responsible for all the atrocities they were uncovering.
Another confirmed report…just over a week ago, was that the Allies had made it all the way south to Stuttgart and now occupied the city, which meant Zander had less than eighty kilometers to locate his targets. If he didn't find some Wehrmacht soldiers soon, he'd have to turn around and head the other way until he did. He knew here in western Germany, tens of thousands of them had surrendered to the Allies over the last month. Of course, Hitler and Goebbels were keeping information like that from the public to avoid an all-out panic. But it was true. Commandant Heydrich feared the number could be far higher than that.
Zander could only shake his head in disbelief as he recalled the conversation. It really was over then. The glorious, thousand-year Reich had barely lasted more than a decade.
Zander remembered another moment that involved hundreds of thousands of German soldiers. It was an amazing day ten years ago when he'd attended one of the Nuremberg rallies. He’d stood there proudly holding his banner in the midst of a sea of humanity, all gathered in hundreds of perfectly formed rows, watching the Fuhrer and his inner circle walk by. An unimaginable spectacle. After hearing Hitler's phenomenal speech, the place went wild. Zander knew with certainty that everything Hitler had prophesied about the future of the Fatherland was destined to become true.
And for the next several years, it had.
Everything Hitler had promised unfolded just as he'd predicted. Germany was on a course to conquer and rule the world. Every country was falling beneath their feet. Those that had not yet done so, soon would be. And Hans Zander was an integral part of it all. Rising quickly through the SS ranks, doing anything and everything he’d been asked to do. And far beyond his duty. Zander had excelled in every task. In his last official review, Commandant Heydrich felt certain Zander would soon be named as the new camp commander upon his next promotion.
But now look. Look at how far things had fallen.
Zander was fleeing from that very camp, hoping to shed every connection to it he had ever made. He was on the hunt for a regular German soldier, so that he might forever rid himself of his SS officer's uniform. His reputation, which he’d crafted with such passion and precision these last several years, even his very identity, was about to be erased forever. As if it had never existed.
As if he had never existed.
His musings were suddenly interrupted by a sight up ahead. From this distance, it looked like people walking just off the right side of the road. He couldn't tell how many. As he got closer, he saw the gray clothing. A few blocks more confirmed they were indeed German soldiers. Three young men walking slowly without weapons or helmets. So bedraggled, if they weren't wearing Wehrmacht uniforms they could easily be mistaken for hobos.
One heard his car approaching before the others and turned around. Seeing who was driving, and no doubt, Zander's SS uniform, a look of panic came over his face. He yelled something to the others. They turned to look, then all three ran toward the trees. Zander floored it and quickly closed the gap, but they kept running. If he didn't do something quickly, he'd lose them in the woods. He pulled his car off the road, headed right toward them, and fired his pistol, aiming just a few yards in front of the one in the lead.
All three stopped, and so did he.
He brought the Kubelwagen to a stop, put it in neutral, and pulled on the brake. As he stood on the seat, he kept the pistol pointed at the men. "What do we have here, gentlemen?"
"It is nothing, Herr Obersturmbanfuhrer," one of them said, the one who saw Zander's vehicle first. "We were in a battle earlier this morning and got separated from our unit. We've been trying to find them ever since."
"Do you take me for a fool, Soldier? I have been in this general area for days. The bullet from my gun just now is the only battle sounds I've heard. You think I don't know what you men are doing? You are deserting. It's plain to see."
"Oh, no, sir. We are not—"
"Silence," he yelled. "Of course you are deserting. Where are your helmets? Where are your guns? And look at how you wear your uniforms…not like proud Wehrmacht soldiers. Like men who've surrendered, who've quit the fight."
