Goering's Gold

PART ONE

The Ernst Kesseling Story

He that can’t endure the bad will not live to see the good.

Jewish Proverb

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CHAPTER ONE

Standartenfuhrer (Colonel) Ernst Kesselring pulled to the curb of Unter den Linden just across from the Adlon Hotel, with the Brandenburg Gate at his back. It was a dreary Berlin day this April 24, 1945, and a light rain was falling. Unter den Linden had been hit hard by the bombs. Kesselring thought about the days when he would sit at Kranzler Corner eating cream cakes and watching the girls walk by. The seven-story hotel had bomb damage in the rear but the arched entrance was intact. There was one linden tree alive near the entrance; the rest of the celebrated row of linden trees were just stumps. The trees had been cut down for firewood. He could smell the piles of rubble on both sides of Unter den Linden from the bombed out buildings. The German flag on the roof of the hotel was whipping in the breeze and rain. He set the hand brake and opened the window a crack. The windshield of the staff car began to fog and he further rolled down the side window. Outside the rain washed the air clear of exhaust fumes from what little traffic passed by. He wiped the moisture on the windshield with his handkerchief as two Gestapo agents walked slowly back and forth in front of the Adlon. Then he put his chin on the steering wheel and began to think about why he was here. The strange meeting with Reichmarshall Hermann Goering’s personal aide, when he had arrived at Luftwaffe Headquarters, kept floating around in his head. Why had Goering instructed him to personally pick up a new set of orders, for his eyes only, at the message desk?

Kesselring’s thoughts went back to the World War I stories from his father Fritz. Maybe that was behind the meeting with Goering. He remembered the picture, on the living room bookcase, of his Father in the cockpit of the Siemans Schuckert fighter with the swastikas painted on it and Goering standing beside the plane. After World War I it took many years for Germany to start to rearm. Kesselring knew that his father had stayed in touch with Goering over the years and became associated with the Nazi Party’s secret acquisition of a small number of airplanes. In the nineteen thirties Goering had arranged for his father to become the commandant of the Obersdorf Flight Training school. He concluded that it had to be his Father’s World War I connection that resulted in this unexpected order to report to Goering at Luftwaffe Headquarters.

Kesselring was six foot tall with a muscular frame. His blue eyes and short light blonde hair contributed to the ideal German look that Hitler so admired. After being wounded over Rumania on January 10th he was sent back to a rehabilitation hospital in Berlin. His airplane had been hit with shrapnel from Russian antiaircraft over the oil fields of Rumania. The shrapnel that tore his left arm, leg, and cheek left him hardly able to fly the airplane. Somehow, he was able to nurse the plane back to the forward air base. A long scar on his left cheek that ached whenever it rained was a constant reminder of that day. At the hospital they removed most of the shrapnel but some small pieces would require more surgery some day. He had distinguished himself on the battlefield and received three promotions in less than a year. As he was processed for discharge from the rehab hospital a lieutenant met him at the hospital entrance. This is when he was handed an order telling him to report immediately to Luftwaffe Headquarters in Berlin and report to General Goering instead of returning to his Squadron.

By April 23, 1945 Russian troops had reached the outskirts of Berlin. Things in the city were in absolute chaos and all the conversation at the Luftwaffe Headquarters were about rumors of how it would all end. When he arrived at Luftwaffe Headquarters he ran into a pilot from his squadron who had been wounded and was no longer on active flight status. Kesselring, what are you doing here? the pilot asked.

Kesselring did not remember the name of the young pilot. I was just discharged from the rehab hospital and I was ordered to report here. What are you hearing?

Everyone is saying that Hitler and Martin Bormann are in the final bunker.

That sounds like the war is coming to an end. Kesselring said as he walked toward Goering’s office.

Kesselring was aware that Bormann, the Nazi party’s chief executive, and Goering had been bitterly struggling for power and influence with Hitler for over a year. It was no secret that Bormann finally wanted to take out Goering. Berlin was dying and Bormann felt Goering and his prized Luftwaffe Air Force were doing nothing about it. For Kesselring there was no question that Herman Goering would be chosen as Hitler’s successor when the war came to an end. Goering had many titles but all that was important to Kesselring was that he was still commander of the German Air Force. Kesselring was certain that Goering was the only one who could negotiate a realistic surrender with the British and Americans. His loyalty to Goering as commander of the Luftwaffe remained strong. Like many in the German Air Force, Goering still commanded their respect and they had no loyalty to the elements of the Nazi party controlled by Bormann.

As Kesselring approached Goering’s office one of Goering’s personal aides handed him a piece of paper. Kesselring, General Goring has gone to Obersalzberg and has left this signed requisition which authorizes you to take one of the staff cars. You are to drive to the Adlon Hotel where the General has left a set of orders for your eyes only. He has instructed me to tell you that time is of the essence and you should get to the hotel as quickly as possible.

Kesselring saluted as he left Goering’s office. Waiting there was the same pilot from his squadron who told him the newest rumor that was going around Luftwaffe Headquarters. I hear that Goering’s wife Emma and his daughter Edda have flown with him to his mountain villa at Obersalzberg.

As he waited for a chance to go into the hotel Kesselring thought about the rumors and the strange way Goering had arranged this contact. Goering was still his commanding officer so he felt he had no choice. When the Gestapo Agents came to the end of the block and were finally out of sight, he opened the car door and walked briskly through the Adlon arched entrance. The carpet was scorched, the mirror at the reception desk was shattered and there was broken brickwork on the floor. He quickly walked to the message desk.

Good afternoon, I am Ernst Kesselring, and I was told you have a package for me.

Yes, Colonel, there is a package for you. If you will sign this receipt, it will insure that you personally picked up the package.

Kesselring quickly signed his name with a flourish and nodding a thank you to the clerk turned and walked to the bar. The bar had survived all the bombings relatively intact but the mirror and shelves behind the bar were completely gone. May I have a beer? Anything you have left,

The bartender wiped a glass and poured Kesselring what substituted these days for German beer. He took a sip and put the glass down. Not worth drinking, do you have any schnapps left?

The bartender looked around before he reached under the bar and filled a shot glass. This is the last of it, Colonel.

Kesselring drank the shot quickly and threw some money down on the bar. Keep it all, I have no idea if it’s worth anything anymore.

With that, he turned, mimed a goodbye to the desk clerk at the message center and walked out the entrance to the staff car. Kesselring drove slowly south on Unter den Linden past the bombed out buildings on both sides of the wide street. Turning on Wilhelmstrasse he drove past the Reich chancellery. He remembered as a youth the time he stood in front of the stone balcony, feeling so proud as he listened to Hitler address his followers. Past the chancellery he pulled over to a park. The family used to walk these paths but now they were full of massive holes from the allied bombing. Most of the trees had been reduced to stumps, but surprisingly a few trees had not been destroyed.

Kesselring took the small pocketknife he always carried as his good luck piece, and slit opened the package. He sat there reading the orders shaking his head. He studied the order with Goering’s embossed signature that gave him the authority to commandeer a plane at Gatow. There was a map in the envelope with the directions of exactly how he was to get to Goering’s residence from the small airstrip at Obersaltzberg. He reread the specific instructions that he was to follow to pass through the security surrounding Goering’s mountain villa. His orders were to wait to approach the villa until members of the Number 12 Air Signal Regiment took over the security from the SS troops guarding the villa. Perhaps this last comment was behind Goering’s instructions that these orders were for his eyes only. The more he thought about the orders from Goering the more annoyed he got. Just because his Father was a friend of Goering why in hell do I have to get stuck with this thankless mission? The damn war is over.

As he started the car to drive to the Gatow Airport, the rain was coming in a steady downpour. With only the blackout lights, the road was difficult to see. The black staff car slipped and slid sideways as Kesselring struggled to retain control to avoid a bomb crater. As he got the car back into the middle of the road he slowed to a crawl and reached into his pocket for another cigarette. His hand was shaking as he took the lighter from his pocket to light the cigarette. This was a hell of a way to start what was going to be a tough flight if he ever got to the airport. Standartenfuhrer Ernst Kesselring shook his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about the strange circumstances that led to this night. Kesselring was sure that Goering would never fall from power as long as Hitler survived no matter what charges Bormann would bring. After all, when Hitler had chosen to construct a fortress he had chosen Berchtesgaden. This tiny mountain village was located on a spur of German land that jutted into Austria overlooking the city of Salzburg. It was not long after that when Goering built his lavishly appointed mountain villa on the Obersalzberg. It was common knowledge that a special S.S. corps had been involved in the construction of both mountain villas and that special S.S. security protected both villas. He also remembered hearing that Goering’s villa had a deep basement where he stored the many crates of confiscated, bartered, or privately purchased paintings, tapestries, floor and wall coverings, sculptures, and relics. The more he thought about the sorry mess Germany was in, the angrier he became. Maybe I should just disappear. Why is it so important that I fly to Goering’s villa? Then his Prussian upbringing brought him to realize that he would do what he was ordered to do.

Kesselring glanced at his watch and realized there was no way he could fly a small plane in this weather. It was nine in the evening and it was much too risky to find an unlighted strip at Obersalzberg in the dark especially in this weather. To add to his problems, he would be flying south between the closing jaws of the Russian and American armies. He already could see the skyline glowing from the fiery haze of the flicker of artillery. As he crossed the river Havel he passed through the neighborhood of Spandau, the main street lined with stone houses some of which appeared to have escaped major damage. The only large building in the neighborhood had a faded sign blowing in the wind identifying the Boars Head Inn. Kesselring pulled in front of the inn and parked the car. He pounded on the front door with the butte of his revolver. After several minutes, he was soaked as the rain continued to come down steadily. Finally, the door opened and a large very obese man appeared. He obviously had been sleeping but took one look at the decorated officer and immediately opened the door to let Kesselring enter.

How can I assist you, Colonel? the man said in a small voice that didn’t seem to match his very huge size.

Kesselring didn’t say a word as he started to shiver and walked to the stone fireplace in the middle of the room. The fire was burning low and Kesselring picked up two big logs and threw them on the fire. Turning to face the man he said, I will be flying out of Gatow in the morning and I need a room to dry out and get some sleep. But first, I need a drink.

The innkeeper recognizing the importance of this unexpected guest walked behind the reception desk and placed a bottle of schnapps on the counter. If you will please sign this register Colonel, I will take you to your room. I am sure my wife can do something with your uniform while you rest.

Kesselring signed the register and took the bottle. I know it is extremely late but I haven’t had anything to eat since early this morning. By chance can your wife find something for a hungry guest?

The innkeeper took a key from the rack behind the registration counter and motioned for Kesselring to follow him up the stairs. The room had a large double bed, an old oak chest and best of all a fireplace. Next to the fireplace was a rocking chair. I will get a fire started for you and my wife will bring you some food.

Kesselring stripped off his wet clothes and boots and wrapped a blanket around his body. Taking a drink from the bottle he sat in the rocking chair and immediately fell into a deep sleep.

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CHAPTER TWO

The next morning Kesselring woke with a start, the bright sunshine was on his face. The fire was still burning as he stiffly rose, feeling every ache from his wounds. Spread out on the end of the bed was his cleaned and pressed uniform with his boots shined. He looked at his watch and realized that he had slept for eight hours and it was now seven in the morning. He was concerned that the Russians may have reached the airport. He had to start moving faster to reach Obersalzberg before the Russians and Americans closed the noose. He found a shaving mug and a straight razor beside a bowl of water on the top of the chest. Looking at his face in the mirror, he realized just how tired he had been. He soaped up for a shave and then dressed. He walked down the stairs and a pleasant looking, heavy set, woman smiled at him. Good morning, Herr Colonel, you look much better this morning.

I don’t know how to thank you for taking good care of me. I must admit that I was in no condition to think about flying last night, when I luckily found your inn. But, I must move on quickly. I have to be at General Goering’s villa before dark.

Kesselring put all the marks he had left in his wallet on the registration desk. Then, he reached into his breast pocket and found the small secret compartment. He took out a Swiss ten-franc note. This may be of more use to you in the future.

The woman took the Swiss note and put it between her breasts. Smiling, she said, I understand and we thank you. I have prepared some cheese and bread for you to take with you. I wish you a safe journey.

Kesselring looked at the innkeeper’s wife and with a resigned look on his face said, May better fortune come into your life.

He walked out into a sun filled day and entering the staff car he felt reenergized. As he drove out of the neighborhood chewing on a piece of the bread and cheese, he thought that maybe this mission could turn into an exciting adventure. He parked the staff car in front of the Gatow Operations office. Looking around the airfield, it looked very different from 1943 when he had graduated from the Luftwaffe Academy and later trained at the aerial warfare school. There were no planes on the flight line in front of Operations. Kesselring strode in to face a harassed looking Sergeant trying to calm down four other pilots searching for a flight out of Berlin to anywhere. He coughed as he approached the desk. Sergeant I have orders to pick up this plane now.

The Sergeant looked at the order from Goering, and then noticed the decorations on the chest of Kesselring. It will take a few minutes to get the plane from the hangar, refuel and put it on the flight line. You need to be ready to take off immediately. The Russians are so close they can start hitting the runway any time with mortars. Why don’t you go to the pilot lounge and I will come and get you as soon as the plane is ready to go.

Thank you, sergeant. I will wait in the lounge. I must get to Obersalzberg as soon as possible.

Kesselring went to the pilot lounge. There was no one else in the room when he started looking to see if any flight gear might be in the lockers. He opened a locker that had a pair of flight coveralls, a leather jacket, helmet and goggles that were probably used by different Luftwaffe Headquarter pilots when they flew their minimum hours each month to order to retain their flight proficiency. By the time he put the rather tight fitting flight coveralls over his uniform, the Sergeant came into the lounge.

Your airplane is fueled and ready to go, Colonel. You need to take off quickly. You must be on the lookout for any taxiway or runway damage as you taxi and take off. The Army unit guarding the airport just reported that Russian mortar fire has hit the main runway. It will get worse quickly. It was lucky that Goering took off in his private airplane yesterday before any mortar fire hit

Kesselring slipped on the leather jacket that was too small to completely button up, and took the helmet and goggles. I’m not sure when I will be able to fly back to Berlin but if I can someday I will return this gear to your lounge. I will remember your help Sergeant.

The Sergeant and Kesselring walked out to the flight line and in front of the hangar was an Arado 65. It was a single engine biplane that had a top speed of 186 miles per hour. Originally designed as one of the first mail planes in Germany, the war changed its principal use to a student trainer. It was a fabric-covered plane that Kesselring could fly close to the ground and keep radar reflections to a minimum. When he was a student pilot at Gastov, it was the first airplane he had soloed in. There was room for one pilot with a compartment in the back for mail.

Kesselring did a quick walk-a-round preflight check. Climbing into the Arado 65, which he hadn’t flown since his student days, he quickly checked the cockpit instrument panel and realized he would have to make the flight with just a compass and dead reckoning. He started up the engine, waved off the Sergeant, and taxied around several damaged areas to the only runway that was operational. At the end of the runway he ran the engine at full throttle and the rough running engine did not sound good. He throttled back with the thought that the fuel probably had some contamination but he had no time to worry about that. When the tower flashed him the green light he applied full power and steered around a mortar hole as he gathered speed.

He took off sharply and turned south climbing to two hundred feet. The engine seemed to be running smoother so Kesselring put the air map that Goering had supplied him on his lap. He flew visually following the main rail line at a cruise speed of 145 miles per hour. With no interruptions that speed should get him to the small airstrip in less than two hours. At two hundred feet in the bright sunlight, Kesselring could make out a troop train going north to Berlin and wondered whether those poor soldiers had any idea of how bad things were. He flew over shattered bridges, wreckage of factories, and villages that looked to be in ruins from the air. He had not felt the sensation of flying in an open cockpit since his student days. Just then the engine backfired and sent a shiver down his back. He ran up the engine RPM and then back down to normal cruise RPM and luckily the engine started running smoothly again. With a wind from the south, he approached the area of Obersalzberg and dropped down to one hundred feet altitude searching for the unmarked runway. He spotted the field on the outskirts of the little village at the base of the mountain. He buzzed the runway to see if there were any obstacles and decided it was safe to land.

There was no sign of any airplane on the dirt strip and he wondered how Goering had flown here. Then he noticed the camouflaged building off the end of the runway. Kesselring landed, taxied toward the building and parked. Climbing out of the cockpit, he took off the jacket and flight suit and left them in the back of the plane. He straightened out his uniform and made sure his medals and rank were in proper order. He approached the building and looked through a window. There was a camouflaged Fi 156C Storch four seater in the hangar. Kesselring realized then that Goering must have flown the Storch to Obersalzberg with his family. With this knowledge, he walked quickly to the road that led to the village.

As Kesselring approached the village at the base of Obersalzberg, it was just after noon. The air was crisp and clear and he could faintly hear artillery fire in the distance. He had to find a way to determine if the Number 12 Air Signals Regiment had taken over the security at Oberslazberg from the SS. He walked down the street to the only building that had a trickle of smoke coming from the chimney. Kesselring pulled the door open and was surprised to find a room with a small bar and three tables. There was a thin man, who was almost completely bald, sitting on a stool behind the bar reading a book through a thick pair of glasses. When he saw Kesselring, he looked up with a look of fright on his face. He put the book down quickly behind the bar as if he was hiding it from view.

Can I help you? he said in a high shaky voice.

Kesselring walked up to the bar, Is it possible you have any thing left to drink?

The barman looked at Kesselring and shook his head. If we have anything left it will be at the bottom of this last barrel of beer.

Well, why don’t we see if we can get one more glass from the barrel. said Kesselring as he smiled at the bartender.

The man behind the bar took a glass. His face had developed a nervous twitch. Sir, if you will help me tip the barrel we will see what we can get.

Kesselring walked behind the bar and picked up the end of the barrel while the bald headed man held a glass under the tap. A trickle of warm beer filled half the glass and Kesselring put the barrel down. He picked up the glass and took a swallow. It’s better than nothing but that’s all I can say. Have the local SS men guarding Obersalzberg finished everything you had.

Yes, several came in yesterday as they were about to drive off. It seems they have been replaced by another regiment.

Well, that half glass was very good. I hope that someday you will be able to have a real bar again.

With that news Kesselring was satisfied that it was safe to finish his trip to Obersalzberg. It was a short walk from the village to the guarded entrance to Goering’s villa. Two heavily armed soldiers stopped him and requested identification. He handed the soldier the signed order from Goering and his identification card. The soldier handed the order back to Kesselring and saluted as he waved him on. Continuing up the driveway to the main entrance he noted a group of soldiers standing around a fire tossing in files of papers to be burned. He stopped at the massive entrance door to the building. As he was about to walk up the steps to open the door, Goering appeared at the entrance. Kesselring was shocked by his appearance. Goering was wearing a silk robe that came down to his muddy boots. It was obvious he had not shaved in several days. Goering looked distraught. Kesselring could not believe the change in Goering’s persona. The head of the German Air Force looked like he had aged ten years.

Goering grabbed Kesselring by the shoulder. I was worried that you would not receive my orders. I did not want the staff to see them. The war is over and the surrender announcement will come any day. So, we must hurry, we have very little time left to arrange for the future. Follow me and I will show you what I need you to do.

Kesselring followed Goering through the large room that was a total mess with all of the furniture out of place. There were soldiers carrying files of paper to be burned, other solders coming up from a basement door carried pictures and crated statues to a truck. Goering took Kesselring down the stairs to the basement and then to a locked door. He took a key from his robe pocket and opened the door.

It is most important that you take this box and fly it to the village of Split in Croatia. You will deliver it to a priest named Father Krunoslav Draganovic.

Kesselring bent down to pick up the box and found it was quite heavy. As he lifted it to his shoulder he said, Can you tell me why it’s so important that the box be delivered to this priest?

Because, this man is the one who can arrange ways out of Europe for me and my family before the Americans take us as prisoners of war. But, you must hurry since the American forces are approaching Olbersalzberg and will be here in a few days. This sheet is a receipt you should get Draganovic to sign acknowledging he received this box. The other sheet has instructions as to where you will find this priest. I hope to follow you in the Storch in the next twenty four hours.

Kesselring stuck the sheets of paper in his pocket and with the box on his shoulder followed Goering to the entrance door. Goering called to one of the solders standing next to a black staff car. Take the Colonel to the airfield and then come back here immediately. As Kesselring put the box in the back of the car he took one last look at Goering standing in the door looking nothing like the commanding officer of the mighty German Luftwaffe.

Kesselring knew that flying a German marked plane into Yugoslavia would be dangerous. It was early afternoon when he told the driver to stop at the village at the base of the mountain in front of the building where he had stopped before. The bartender was still reading his book as Kesselring approached.

You have returned Colonel. Is there some way I can help you?

Yes, there is. But first tell me your name.

My name is Peter Winterhurst.

Peter, do you own this establishment?

Yes.

Then you can possibly help me with my unusual request. It seems that I have to fly to Croatia and with the state of affairs now, I could use some paint or whitewash and a brush. Would you happen to have anything like that?

Winterhurst looked at Kesselring with a surprised look. That certainly is a strange request. Why don’t you follow me to the basement and let’s see what we can find.

Winterhurst put his book down and Kesselring followed him to the rear of the building. There was a trap door with a large iron ring in the floor. He motioned to Kesselring to help him pull the door open. A large kerosene lantern was hanging on the wall. The bartender lit it and started down a steep set of stairs. As Kesselring followed him, he could see that the cellar had been used as a place of refuge during bombing attacks. There was a storage cabinet on the side of the room and Winterhurst found an old can of paint. He took a screwdriver from the workbench and pried open the can. The can had