at him. Koenig hadn’t been listening, his attention elsewhere. Now suddenly he realised he needed to say something clever.
“Yes General that’s very good news.”
Von Brockhorst stared at him open mouthed.
“Good news. This hare brained idea!”
Koenig nodded still visualising Elsa in her stockings kneeling on the edge of her bed. Suddenly he tore himself back.
“Good news sir that the Fuhrer is so optimistic.”
He could imagine Hitler banging his fist on the table.
“To the last man! The last bullet!” he was ranting, spittle foaming in the corners of his mouth, his tie crooked, sweat patch on the back of his shirt.
“Colonel Koenig have you been listening to a single word I’ve said.”
Koenig swallowed.
“I didn’t catch the last bit sir.”
“You didn’t hear me say that the Fuhrer held me back at the close of the meeting. Took me aside and said with as straight a face as is possible.
“My dear chap I know you have a lot on your plate at the moment what with having to go like the cavalry to assist Field Marshall Rommel in the struggle for North Africa but I need one more thing from you….”
Then he looked me straight in the eye and said.
“….When this war is over and our third reich has its thousand years of peace and my time leading our nation has come to an end I want to be buried in the sarcophagus of Alexander the great!”
Von Brockhorst stopped talking for effect.
Now it was Koenig’s turn to stare open mouthed.
“What did you say sir?”
“I wanted to laugh. I thought the Fuhrer had finally gone mad. I want to be buried in the sarcophagus of Alexander the great and I want you Von Brockhorst to find it for me! That’s exactly how he said it. Just like that. I want you to find it for me.”
“And where is the sarcophagus now?”
“Lost somewhere in the desert almost 2000 years ago by Caesar’s legionaries. We’ll never find it.”
“There must be something you can do. Can you not appeal?”
“To whom? “ Von Brockhorst enquired. He unfolded a letter from Gestapo headquarters and held it up so Koenig could see.
“This is personally signed by Himmler.”
Koenig couldn’t believe his ears.
“The Herr Reichsfuhrer is involved?”
“He is picking the archaeological team personally from his SS.”
Koenig was shaking his head.
“There must be something you can do. Someone you can talk to.”
Von Brockhorst sat wearily into his chair.
“Not if I want to keep my head where it is. I have a war to fight. My Panzer divisions are ready to roll. The allies have stopped Rommel dead in his tracks at El Alamein. Rommel is now holding his own in Tunisia,” the General said pointing on a map of North Africa. “American soldiers have landed here in French North Africa, the British eighth army under Bernard Montgomery are here, Rommel is here, and I have to somehow win the battle, avoid disaster and then go off on some wild goose chase looking for some old relic that probably doesn’t exist any more.”
Von Brockhorst clenched his fists and thumped them on his desk.
“The Fuhrer is a fool!”
Koenig winced and looked nervously about the room. Even here in Wehrmacht headquarters the walls had ears. Talk like this was extremely dangerous.
“Perhaps not a fool sir. Maybe just a bit eccentric.”
“He’s a fool if he thinks he can win the war in Africa.”
“There must be something you can do sir.”
“I have no choice and neither do you.”
Koenig was in the process of putting his empty coffee cup on the table. He stopped mid air.
“Eh?”
“You have twenty four hours to gather your things.”
With fingers shaking he put the cup down.
“I beg your pardon General.”
“You’ll be leaving with me. You will personally oversee the archaeological excavations for me. Report to me what the SS unit is doing, its whereabouts, every move they make and who, and this is most important, who they report to.”
Koenig felt sick, his stomach like lead.
“General I’ve never served at the front line,” he began, his voice shaky at first, “I have always held a post here in Wehrmacht headquarters….”
Von Brockhorst cut him off.
“You are a serving officer are you not?”
“Sir I haven’t fired a gun since basic training.”
“You carry a sidearm.”
“Of course General but only when I’m outside the office.”
Von Brockhorst held up his hand to silence the colonel.
“I want you ready to leave in twenty four hours Colonel.”
That was it. Nothing more to be said. Koenig felt that the words sounded like a death sentence. He stood and saluted smartly. The salute was returned.