90
“STEMPFLE!” THE SS GUARD shouted over the din of the loudspeaker, piping in orchestra music in the Dachau camp cafeteria. “You’ve been summoned!”
Father Bernhard Stempfle looked up from the plate of disgusting beef tripe. “Finally!” he called out. “It’s been over a week.”
Since he’d been brought to the camp a week ago, Stempfle had complained to anyone who would listen that someone had made a mistake, that he was exceptionally close to the Führer, who would be furious when he learned that Stempfle had been mistakenly rounded up with other members of the clergy.
He was taken from the cafeteria to the wrought-iron gate of the camp’s entrance, where he was greeted by several men, all in black uniforms with swastika armbands save one, a fresh-faced young man in a double-breasted gray suit and dark tie.
“Father Stempfle,” said the man. “I am Peter Helldorff, a lieutenant with the Geheime Staatspolizei. I’ve been ordered to escort you personally.” He extended a hand.
“Ah,” said Stempfle, shaking his hand, eminently relieved. “I’m so glad to see you. I couldn’t understand why they brought me here.”
“We apologize for the confusion, Father. Please come with me.”
They walked from the camp gate toward the parking area.
“So, you’re with the Gestapo?” said Stempfle, now more relaxed. “Goring’s new creation. You’ll be the secret police for all of Germany, I hear.”
“Yes,” said Helldorff.
“Are you from Prussia, Lieutenant?”
“Munich, Father.”
“Ah, you must be one of Chief Müller’s men.”
“I am, Father, yes.”
“He must like you. I understand only his best men joined him in the Gestapo.”
Helldorff did not respond. They walked past a group of cars toward the woods.
“Where are we going, Lieutenant?” asked Stempfle.
“Just through those woods, Father.” Helldorff stopped. “We must keep up appearances. We don’t want the other inmates to see you drive off to freedom. It will raise unrealistic expectations.”
“Ah.” Stempfle looked back toward the gate, then to the woods.
“These men will escort you through the woods to a landing on the other side, where a car is waiting. They will drive you home.” Helldorff gave the stiff-arm salute. “Heil Hitler.”
Stempfle nodded and returned the salute. “Heil Hitler.” He started toward the woods, only ten yards away, joined by two black-uniformed SS guards. When he reached the dark path, he stopped and turned back to Helldorff. “Is that music I hear? In the woods?”
“It is, Father. Think of it as a bon voyage celebration. You are not the only person who will be freed tonight.”
Stempfle wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he resumed the path, disappearing into darkness.