A dark legacy, p.1
A Dark Legacy, page 1
Copyright © 2023 Jacob Fenn.
All rights reserved. This book is protected by copyright. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including as photocopies or scanned-in or other electronic copies, or utilized by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the copyright owner.
Printed in the United States of America.
Cover and Interior design by FormattedBooks
“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing”
Edmund Burke
CONTENTS
Prologue: April 25th, 1945
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
PROLOGUE
April 25th, 1945
The explosions were deafening. The strategic bombing by allied bombers, against Nazi Germany were a daily occurrence. The B-17 Flying Fortresses and B-24 Liberators were darkening the skies and wreaking havoc on the grounds in and around the Obersalzberg.
Berghof, Hitler’s private Bavarian residence was in ruins. Its grand window, facing the Alps, was reduced to just its frame held up by crumbling walls.
It was a living hell on earth as soldiers scattered to escape the relentless explosions and fires that consumed the once immaculately manicured lawns and gardens of the Berghof. Inconceivable as it may have seemed to the officers of the Wehrmacht, the hallowed grounds of the Nazi army were being pummeled to dust.
Commands barked by superior officers sliced through the clamor, as soldiers, caked in grime, scrambled to salvage what they could. Boxes of classified documents, secret correspondences, and precious artifacts in crates were being piled into vehicles with a sense of urgency that mirrored the pandemonium around them.
Officers who once swaggered through the halls of the Berghof with unchallenged authority now cowered in fear and lay prostrate. A few oversaw a frenzied evacuation, their commands tinged with an edge of defeat.
A Major, his face as stern as the orders he issued, directed his attention away from the main halls to a particular room. “You two,” he shouted pointing at a pair of soldiers,” secure the contents from in here. I want all you can salvage from this room. There are personal belongings of the Fuhrer in there, I want all of it in the car and be swift about it!”
The soldiers charged through the burning furniture to grab what they could. One of the men started passing papers and files to the other man who dumped them all into an iron box. The crate had a swastika painted on its sides and the box itself was painted black.
Parts of the roof cracked and began to crumble as fires burned through. The beams that held up the grand ceiling came crashing down, scattering burning pieces of wood all around. The soldier picked up one last item from a table by a window and ran towards the exit. He clutched a small ornate box with decorations all around it and the initials E.B embossed on the lid.
As the room was turning into an inferno, the soldier dumped the box into the iron crate and slammed the lid close. They carried the box and ran as fast as they could towards the Major, barely managing to avoid the burning debris and falling embers. The Major pointed at the car that was waiting outside with its engine running. The soldiers quickly placed it in the back and closed the lid slapping the back of the car as if it were a horse. The Major got in and slammed the door shut as the vehicle sped away, its tires barely gripping the gravel in haste.
As the car descended the valley road, the sky above was lit by the fires of war. The Major urged the driver “Schneller, Schneller!”
The driver was a boy of barely 20. The German army was running out of soldiers by this time and recruited just about anybody. Gripping the wheel as if his life depended on it, the young driver spun the car through the narrow winding road towards the exit of the Berghof complex.
They sped past the unguarded gates down towards Berchtesgaden when suddenly an explosion sent the car pirouetting through the air to the ravine below. The car rolled and landed near a small stream and exploded into a fireball. What was left of the car tumbled down and slowly sank into the mud along with the iron crate and its contents.
1
The air was cold and dark clouds roamed the Bavarian Alps that evening, portending a stormy night, yet there had been little snow on the ground so far.
Nathaniel Radcliffe, brooded over the changing patterns of climate and wondered about the distant future or even the near future when snowfall may become confined to fairy tales. He was a tall man of roughly 30 years of age and his girlfriend Annika Weber, who was only a couple of years younger than he was, were on holiday in the Bavarian Alps. Nathaniel, an ex-soldier, left the service of the British Army after having served a few tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. He was honorably discharged couple of few years ago after being awarded the Conspicuous Gallantry Cross (CGC) twice during his service. Nathaniel was as handsome as he was introverted.
“There is no snow this year!” lamented Annika. She was a petite woman. At her full height she came up to Nathaniel’s shoulders. Annika worked for a large fashion company in Berlin and met him at a party in London. It had been love at first sight for Annika. The tall, handsome, and brooding man at the bar, alone, surveying the crowd like a detached observer intrigued her. She made the bold move of joining him and introducing herself. When he turned and smiled she knew that his exterior was just a mask. They hit it off immediately.
They have been together for about two years and Nathaniel, graciously relocated to Berlin to accommodate her career. Annika was from a middleclass family. Her father was a scientist at a large pharmaceutical company in Hamburg who always insisted on the highest levels of education for his daughter. She spent that last few years of her higher education in England, graduating from Oxford University. While her father wanted her to pursue a career in science, her heart was set on the arts, which finally took her into the fashion industry.
Annika was certain of her complete and total love for Nathaniel, after the last two years they had known each other, but she sometimes wondered if she knew the real Nathaniel. There were aspects of his life, that he would never discuss and that was a puzzle for Annika.
“I think this is a glimpse of the future, my love. Alps, with all the glaciers gone and hardly any snow even in winter.” Nathaniel said as he took her hand and led her towards their favorite pub close to their hotel. They were booked into the Kempinski Hotel, about four kilometers by foot from the picturesque little town of Berchtesgaden, that nestled among the majestic Bavarian Alps.
One of the reasons Nathaniel picked this spot for their skiing vacation was the fact the Berchtesgaden and the surrounding Obersalzberg area held historical fascination for him. The stories told by his grandfather, Sir William Radcliffe I when he was just a child, stayed with him all his life. Walking around the grounds of the Kempinski hotel he could bring back to life the stories he had heard. His grandfather a captain in the British Army, led the first British troops to reach the Berghof in May1945, just behind the Americans.
Every aspect of the area reminded Nathaniel of the stories of how British troops pushed through Austria and Bavaria to get here, only to be beaten by the Americans by a day or so in taking Obersalzberg.
The exact spot where the Kempinski hotel was built, had its own dark and unsettling history. Built in 2005 on the site of the villa used by Hermann Goering, when he visited, it was located to the east of the ruins of the Berghof itself. Where the Berghof stood, was now mostly covered by the forest.
The whole area fascinated Nathaniel. While he was disappointed with the lack of snow, his holiday was not an entire fiasco. His newfound career with the Berlin based investigative media group, Faktencompass, proved to be just what he needed, after what seemed like a lifetime in the army. He was usually working on stories of corruption and mismanagement in the German government and private sector, but of late he had discovered another passion, History. Specifically, World War II history; and this place in particular, had lots of stories to tell and events to inspire him on the book that he had been contemplating for a while.
Little did he know that his wishes were about to materialize. Whether he wanted them to or not, events were already in motion that would soon set him on to uncharted territory.
It had begun to snow lightly as Nathaniel and Annika took the short walk from the hotel to the BergSchauen Gasthaus, (Mountain View Inn), their favorite pub. It was located to the southeast of the hotel and provided panoramic view of the Bavarian Alps during the day.
Nathaniel and Annika were regulars at the Inn through their two weeks at Obersalzberg. The vacation was now coming to an end, with just a couple of days more to go before they headed back for Berlin.
During their visits to the Inn, they had become friends with the pub’s owner’s daughter, Lena, who ran the place.
As they walked in, the open door let in a gust of cold winter air. Lena, looked up at the door from behind the bar. She was carrying a big responsibility on her young shoulders as her father was not in good health, and running the whole shop now was her full ti
Lena shivered and signaled Nathaniel to close the door quickly. Nathaniel complied, stomping his feet to shake off the snow from his boots. Annika did the same and with a big grin she approached the bar.
“Guten Abend.” said Annika, as they gave each other a peck on the cheeks leaning over the bar. Annika pulled up a couple of bar stools. As Nathaniel joined them, Lena asked Nathaniel, “the usual Herr Radcliffe?” with a flirtatious look on her face. Annika was quick to observe the interplay but was tickled by how almost all women found Nathaniel so damn attractive. She loved to watch him squirm at the attention.
“Gleich wie jeden Tag, Lena, vielen Dank”, (just like every day, Lena, thank you very much) said Nathaniel in fluent German.
Nathaniel had picked up the language while stationed in Germany in the early years of his time in the army. His new life in Berlin enabled him to polish it up.
“How was the powder today?” asked Lena. Nathaniel grumbled and waved his hand to indicate ‘not so great’. “The way things are going with the climate; I doubt there will be snow in these mountains for long,” said Nathaniel with a grim face.
They continued their conversation, and Annika placed an order for dinner at the bar, for both of them. The clamor of the pub escalated as an influx of patrons filled the once-quiet nooks. Lena, a study in orchestrated chaos, navigated the floor with aplomb, gesturing to her fellow waiters and ensuring each customer’s needs were promptly met.
A little while later the door opened, and Franz walked in. Franz worked for a local construction firm and was Lena’s on and off lover. Through their friendship with Lena, they got to know Franz as well. Clad in the dust and fabric of his labor, his posture bore the signature of the day’s toil.
“Hey Lena” he shouted towards the bar as he walked up to it. “Damn long day! Thought I will grab a beer before I head off.”
He smacked Nathaniel on the back and said, “How are you today my ‘Mittelalterfreak’?”
Annika, clarifying for Nathaniel, said, “Franz is accusing you of being a medieval fanatic. You have been asking too many questions about the war and the Berghof. For Franz all that is medieval!” And she laughed.
“Franz is a Neanderthal; his interests are in paleontology. Perhaps looking for his ancestors,” said Lena laughing.
Nathaniel said defensively and for Franz’s benefit, “Franz, it’s all my grandfather’s fault. The man filled my head with stories about this place and the war.”
Lena joined them after serving a few other customers and said, “Hey Franz, tell them about the thing you dug up at the construction site the other day”.
Franz ignored her and continued to joke with Nathaniel “Yea, 75 years! That is way back in the past for me, medieval!”.
“What do you mean ‘dug up’?” Nathaniel asked Lena.
“Come on, tell them Franz, what’s the big secret? It’s not as if you discovered some treasure!” said Lena giving him her sexy smile that always turned Franz on.
Nathaniel asked for the next round of drinks and one for Franz.
Franz mumbled “Well it was nothing, just an old box that was buried in the area I was digging for the foundation of this Chalet for some big financial whiz kid from Frankfurt.”
“What box?” asked Nathaniel.
“Let’s get another drink and I will tell you all about it, I guess there is no harm now that it turned out to be a nothing. How do you guys say it ‘a nothing burger’?” asked Franz.
Annika cut in and said “Franz, English people don’t talk like that. They are too proper” and laughed “it is a peculiar American idiom”.
“I stand corrected “Fräulein,” quipped Franz.
They were almost done with their dinners and Annika started preparing to get back to the hotel. She turned to Nathaniel and said “Love, I think I’ll head back to the hotel; I am beat.”
“You want me to walk you back?” asked Nathaniel.
“Oh no please continue with your history lessons, it’s only a short walk from here.” She kissed Nathaniel on the cheek and turned towards the exit waving goodbyes to Lena and Franz.
Nathaniel called after her, “Annika, drop me a message once you are at the Hotel. I know it’s safe, but just do it for me.” She gave him a thumbs up and exited the pub.
Nathaniel turned his attention to Franz and said, “So tell me, Franz, what happened?”
Franz was on his 4th beer; in a slurred voice, he said, “Well, you see that day I was clearing some of the slopes of the hill to cut down to a level base in this corner of the property. This is where the base of the foundation for the pillars that go up to support the balcony facing the hills…” Franz digressed and got caught up in describing the details of the structure. Nathaniel pulled him back, “That’s great, Franz, but what did you dig up?”
“Well, the chalet was going to be built on the side of this hill. It’s a few kilometers from your hotel on the way to Berchtesgaden. It’s a very nice hotel by the way… do you know it was built exactly where that flying fat Nazi used to live… what was his name, Hermann something… and… oh, where was I? Yea, a few days ago, I was driving the JCB in this corner area of the site near the stream…” Franz continued.
Franz was in the driver’s seat of a JCB and moving the levers that articulate the excavator bucket. Nearly all the workers were just breaking for lunch. Some of them called out to Franz to join them as they were leaving. He waved at them and said “Macht weiter, ich werde aufholen” (Carry on; I will catch up) as the excavator bucket of his JCB pulled up pieces of metal hanging together like a half-broken skeleton. Franz looked at what he had dredged up. ‘It’s the frame of a car!’ he said to himself. He moved the dangling metal frame to the side and pushed the excavator bucket again back into the small hole where the frame had come from. ‘There is something hard underneath,’ he thought to himself. He increased the pressure on the excavator bucket and dug deeper and brought out some kind of a box. An iron crate with a faded Swastika painted on the side.
He jumped out of the cockpit, and without a second glance at the box, turned and walked up the hill towards his boss Klaus Mueller’s office at the top of the slope.
The construction office was a temporary structure made of shipping containers, typical of construction site offices. As Franz opened the door to Klaus Mueller’s office, a man in his 50s looked up and barked, “Was?!” (What?!)
“Herr Mueller, you may want to come and see what I found in the east corner,” said Franz.
“Why, did you dig up some treasure?” asked Klaus Mueller, his words dripping in sarcasm. He was a busy man with a tight schedule and, moreover, he did not think highly of Franz, due to his drinking habits and letting his mouth fly once he had a few.
“No. I don’t know… well, maybe, I am not sure. You better come and see for yourself,” said Franz.
Klaus Mueller shook his head in irritation and shuffled out of his chair, huffing at Franz, “This better be good, Franz! I don’t have time to waste like you do.”
They walked out into the noon sun but chilly air. Franz led the way down the slope towards the JCB. Klaus noticed that they were the only two people on the site. He looked around and said, “Lazy bums. It’s still ten minutes to lunch break, and they have taken off already!”
As they reached the JCB, Franz walked around to the front and pointed at the box. Klaus Mueller looked at the crate and stopped abruptly. The swastika was painted on the side of an iron box. Faded but a sure indication of an artefact from the 1940s.
“Fuck!” Klaus muttered to no one. His ancestral connection with the Berghof was something he wanted forgotten. The faded swastika on the crate troubled him. “The shit from the past will never stay buried!” Klaus Mueller cursed under his breath.
“You think there is some expensive shit in here, boss?” asked Franz.
“I don’t think anything good can come out of it, Franz. But let’s open the fucking thing and see what’s in it. But not now. The other guys will be back soon. Just put it back in the hole for the time being, and you start on the other corner for the afternoon. We will come back later at night to open it. Meanwhile, keep this shit to yourself, Franz.”
