The Dominafuhrer - MISS SPITEFUL'S GOLD

Episode 29 - The Stasi At Night

September 1952

Our captors relieved of us our bags and made a cursory pat down of our bodies. Then we heard the sound of many voices, feet on gravel and vehicle engines starting up. Oberst Hoeller wheeled away from us, shouting out his orders.

"Get these prisoners loaded up. Seal off this road, the cemetery and the hospital grounds. There will be thousands coming this way if we don't stop them!"

A covered truck drew up alongside us and we were prodded into scrambling aboard  over the lowered tail gate. As we settled onto the benches inside, a guard came up to Hoeller, pointed to the cemetery and then led the Oberst through the gap in the hedge that we had used. Another guard with a sub-machine gun watched from ground level until the Stasi officer returned, his eyes blazing with anger and his face pale in the moonlight.

"Take them to the custody area," he commanded. "I'll follow when we have finished searching here."

The armed guard climbed aboard, motioned us to move further down the benches, and sat down at the rear. He kept his gun pointed in our direction while another guard raised and secured the tail gate.

The truck lurched forward down the gravel path and then turned left into Landsberger Allee, taking us past the hospital and away from West Berlin.

We were still in shock and I huddled up for comfort at the front of the truck with Solitaire and Stiletto. Miss Spiteful and Sapphire sat further towards the rear, almost opposite the guard, and holding each others hands.

After ten minutes, Miss Spiteful leaned forward, peered out of the back of the truck and spoke to Sapphire.

"Have you any idea where we are?"

"Stille!" The guard emphasised his order for silence by pointing the muzzle of his gun at Sapphire's waist but she ignored him.

"I've just seen the S-Bahnhof for Landsberger Allee, which means we are heading for Hohenshonhausen."

"Stille! Stille!" The guard screamed at them but, at that moment, the truck turned left without slowing down and we were all thrown against each other. The guard had to grab the tailboard to stop himself being pitched out over it and Miss Spiteful took the opportunity to put her head out past the canvas cover so that she could read the street sign.

"Genslerstrasse," she announced as she sat down. "We are going to the old KGB interrogation centre. They must have handed it over to the Stasi. Ironic, isn't it? The place was built by the Nazi's and they ended up being held there by the Ivans."       

The guard had recovered his balance and was raising his gun to strike Miss Spiteful with the butt when the brakes of the truck were applied and he was sent sprawling at her feet instead.

"They all end up there," she smirked.

The truck moved forward a few metres and we could see more armed guards closing high barred gates behind us. The manoeuvre was repeated once more after which the truck turned left and then right. A short distance further on, we waited as yet another set of gates were opened and closed for us and, after a final right turn, the engine was switched off and the tailgate lowered. We were motioned to disembark and found ourselves in a brightly lit courtyard. There were four storey buildings on three sides but, directly in front of us was a flat roofed, two storey building. Over the rooftops, a searchlight swept back and forward from a tall watch tower in the distance. More men with guns and a couple of barking dogs escorted us towards steps which led us up to the first floor of the lower building and an open iron barred door.

It was only when we were inside the reception room did we all realise how filthy and dishevelled we were. Our white shirts and our gymslips were dirty and smeared and our nylons were holed and laddered. Our shoes were splattered with mud and those with high heels had picked up thick rings of earth around them. Only our straw boaters were still pristine above our grimy faces.

Having slithered in an out of the tomb, I was in the worst condition with my blonde hair matted and plastered with sweat and dirt. I also realised that the pungent smell in the room was coming from me. 

An officer demanded to know why we had not been blindfolded when we had been arrested and was told that Oberst Hoeller had not ordered it. Then we were body searched by a female Stasi guard, who was disconcerted when Sapphire blew her a kiss. My breasts were squeezed, none too gently, before she felt up under my skirt and discovered my male sexual organs. We all laughed as she yelped in alarm until the guards screamed at us for silence and order.

Our hats, ties, belts, wristwatches and other jewellery were all removed and we were handed a wet towel so that we could wipe our hands and faces prior to being photographed and fingerprinted. Out of consideration for the others, I used it last of all and then dropped the filthy object on the floor when I had finished.

Having been processed, we were led through another iron barred door, along a corridor, down a couple of flights of stairs and then into a windowless room with pipes running across the ceiling.

“This is more like it, Girls,” Miss Spiteful muttered. “We’re home.”

We were in a Stasi interrogation room but, at any time in the last twenty years, it could have been used by the Gestapo, SS, NKVD, SMERSH or KGB without having to change a single object. There was a whipping frame, fetters and chains hanging from the walls, a tangle of electrical equipment and two tables, one of which was laid out with an intimidating range of whips and instruments of torture.

There was a desk with a telephone on the top in one corner with five chairs lined up opposite. We were pushed on to these and our hands were cuffed behind our backs.

Two armed guards remained to watch us and ensure that we did not speak to each other in what must been at least an hour that we waited for our interrogation to start.

At last the door opened and Oberst Hoeller entered, carrying a grey cardboard file which he dropped on the desk before taking the seat behind it. The female guard, who had searched us earlier, followed him in, her arms loaded with our handbags and some paper bags. She dumped everything on the empty table and then arranged our handbags in a line with the contents and other previously confiscated items, which she shook out of the paper bags, in front of them. She then stood behind the table scowling at us all and me in particular.

Hoeller now opened the grey file and took out a sheet of paper. Suddenly, my mind flashed back over seven years to our last meeting with Von Kreps which had opened in a similar manner.

“Boshaft, Scrauber, Kraft, Beck and Hartemann,” he read. “You were all tried in your absence by a Soviet Military Court in January Nineteen Forty Six. You were all accused of war crimes, found guilty and sentenced to death by hanging.” He put the paper down and then held up our passports.

“Despite the names in these, we have identified you all from your photographs and fingerprints. You were all born German Citizens and entered the DDR of your own free will. The sentences will now be carried out!”

“We appeal!” Miss Spiteful said immediately, her face pale but firm, while the rest of us were horror stricken.

“Denied.” Hoeller replied, dropping our passports and then steepling the tips of his fingers beneath his bearded chin. “However, before we proceed to that pleasant duty, there is the matter of the valuable items belonging to the German Democratic Peoples Republic that you stole tonight.”    

“Who says that the gold and cash are yours?” Miss Spiteful was still remarkably calm.     

 Hoeller raised his eyebrows. “So you admit knowledge of the Fascist spoils? At least we do not have to waste time on that. Of course the former property of the Nazi criminal Himmler belongs to the German People. He stole it from them in the first place. We will be returning it to the rightful owners, the only legal and democratic German Government. Now, where is it?”

Despite being dirty, handcuffed and under sentence of death Miss Spiteful leaned back in her chair and crossed her long legs. Even with holes in her nylons and muddied shoes she did it with poise and elegance.

“Yes, we know about Himmler’s treasure but you’ve searched us. We do not have it.”

Hoeller frowned and then flipped the file open again. “A lot of people have been looking for Himmler’s gold since Nineteen Forty Five. Every trail went cold or led back to you five who disappeared at the same time as Von Kreps. We know that he intended to kill you all and then abscond with his loot but it was you who were allowed to leave Berlin while he was never seen or heard from again.”

Hoeller took a packet of cigarettes from a pocket in his leather jacket, lit one with a match and then took a few nervous puffs before flicking ash into a tray on his desk.

“After the Fascist defeat in Berlin, the Soviets almost pulled the Friedrichshain Flak Towers apart and then searched every possible alternative location in the area, including all the tunnels in the Alexanderplatz U-Bahnhof since Von Kreps had asked for plans of it. Nothing! The Nazis were looking as well and we let them break into the Flak Tower just in case they knew where the gold had been hidden. We were waiting outside but, in their frustration they blew up the museum treasures stored there and started a fire. So, the only ones who might have known where Von Kreps had put the gold were you five and you could not be found either. Until last year, that is, when the Fascists started to track you down and of which we were immediately informed.

Then, yesterday morning, we heard that you were all back in Berlin and I notified every checkpoint to look out for you. I was there when you passed through, wearing those ridiculous outfits and pretending to be taking part in the Folk Song and Dance Festival in the Volkspark Friedrichshain. You had to be coming to get the gold and it must be in the or near the Park. We lost track of you and you never arrived at the Festival, so I had men searching the area for your car. One of them eventually spoke to the gatekeeper at the Hospital who remembered a similar vehicle passing through and also mentioned that an American Military truck had twice gone down the cemetery path. My man found your car parked in the Hospital grounds and went to call for assistance. However, when I arrived with my men and approached your car, it drove off and then you appeared through the gap in the Cemetery hedge. We can safely assume that you were not performing some bizarre necrophiliac ritual in that tomb that you opened and that the gold was transported away in that American truck. I know that it was not in your car.”

Hoeller gestured to the female guard who opened up another paper bag and pulled out a dripping wet and blood stained straw boater with what appeared to be a bullet hole in the crown. My heart sank as I realised that it had to be Kelly’s.

Hoeller smirked as he continued. “I had already placed roadblocks on all the bridges across the Spree and your driver refused to stop at the Michael Brucke barrier. The car was riddled with machine gun bullets and smashed through the embankment into the river.”

We all gasped with horror and a cold pit formed in my stomach which deepened at Hoeller’s next words.

“A few minutes ago, a Polizie diver reported that there was no gold in the car and that the driver’s body was missing. It has obviously been swept away by the current. The hat was found inside the car.”

To continue this story, click Seraph Revealed

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