The Kammersee Affair Page 4

  “Perhaps we could adjourn to a local tavern,” said Mueller. “And over a beer or two, I will tell you the whole story, and how, perhaps, we can be helpful to each other.” With that he turned around and started to walk back toward the village.

  “That sounds a good idea …” Karl started to say, but was interrupted by Fritz.

  “We are fine right here for the moment,” Fritz said. “I would like a bit more information as to what this is all about first. Then we’ll see about that drink.”

  Mueller stopped, and turned to face Fritz. “Fine by me,” he said. “What I have to say is quite simple.” He walked back to where Fritz was standing. “I have certain information regarding the whereabouts of gold bullion. I believe that you are interested in such an item. I also believe that we could help each other find it.”

  Fritz and Karl looked at each other. “Okay, you have our undivided attention,” Fritz said. “Let’s have that drink shall we?”

  Although Fritz did not entirely trust Mueller, he did not think that he was from the authorities. After all, he reasoned, he could have stopped them days ago if he had wanted to. He didn’t know who he was, but he certainly wasn’t from the police or anything like that. Fritz was intrigued in what he had to say. He thought that there wasn’t too great a risk. After all there were two of them, and only one of him. Fritz walked over to where Mueller was standing. He looked back over his shoulder, and called over to Karl. “Come on Karl, we could do with a drink.”

  “I’ll second that,” said Karl. He looked at Mueller. “Lead on.”

  Mueller turned toward the village. Karl quickly followed. Fritz looked back at the lake. He shrugged his shoulders, and then hurried after the others.

  * * *

  A short while later the three men were at the village inn, seated at an outside table. The inn overlooked the largest of the three local lakes, Grundlsee. It was getting late into the afternoon, and the autumn sun was already low in the sky, casting long rays through the sparkling water. As the heat of the day was waning with the setting of the sun, there was a slight chill in the air. Winter was not too far away. Their search would have to stop quite soon, until the spring.

  As they waited for their drinks to arrive, they said very little. Occasionally there would be a casual remark about the weather, or comment on the scene in front of them. Eventually the waiter arrived, and placed a large Steiner of beer in front of each of them. Once the waiter had left, Mueller began recounting his story. Firstly he spoke at length regarding the naval facility that had been established in 1943, at Lake Toplitzsee. Fritz had heard a lot of this story before, but never quite like this. This wasn’t rumour, or conjecture. This sounded genuine, authoritative. This man appeared to know what he was talking about. He carried on in great detail. Neither Fritz nor Karl said anything.

  “As the end of the war approached and the Allies got closer, orders were issued to destroy vast quantities of material, including documents, weapons, and ammunition. There was so much, and so little time, it was decided that large amounts were to be just thrown into the lake. In the final few months, under the strict supervision of the SS guard, many crates were transported to Toplitzsee, from other locations in Germany, to be thrown into the waters of the lake.” He stopped for a moment, and took a drink from his glass. His companions said nothing.

  “That part of the story is well known, well researched, and fully documented,” he continued. “I am sure that you probably already knew most of what I just said. But there is another story that is completely unknown. It is so secret that there appears to be no documentation about it, no written record as far as I can tell. There is nothing to substantiate what I am about to tell you.” He looked across at the other two. They still said nothing, waiting for him to proceed. “This story relates to a small storage room, located at the test facility set up at Toplitzsee. Storeroom C,” he continued. “I have checked official records, and can find no mention of it anywhere. And yet I know that it existed.”

  “If it was so secret, how do you know so much about it?” asked Karl.

  “That’s a fair question,” said Mueller. He looked across at the lake, as the waters gently lapped the shore. “Do you remember what I said earlier, about the small detachment of soldiers that was based here? Well, my father, Gunther Mueller, was a member of that group. In fact he was the Sergeant in charge. He may have been one of the men killed where you discovered those cartridges.” He stopped momentarily, and looked out toward the setting sun. He was trying to visualise his father. He shook his head, and looked back toward the others. “Where was I? Oh yes. Against all orders forbidding it, he smuggled out a number of letters to my mother.” He reached into his inside pocket and withdrew an envelope. He opened it. “Let me just read you this,” he said. “This was his last letter dated 2nd March 1945.” He coughed to clear his throat and started to read. “The crates started to arrive almost two weeks ago.” Mueller paused for a moment. “Apparently, large numbers of timber crates had arrived over the previous few weeks,” he explained. “They had come by truck, mainly from Munich.” He looked back at the letter and continued to read. “They are being put into a storeroom, room C.” He looked up at his two companions, and tapped the notepaper. “This is the interesting bit,” he continued. “The crates are to be taken to Lake Kammersee, when the time comes.”

  “When the time comes,” repeated Fritz. “What does that mean?”

  “My father never said, but I assumed that it was to do with the Allies advance. By March 1945 the Americans had gone through Italy and the US Army Pathfinders were close to the Austrian border. Another few weeks and they would have been at the complex.”

  “So were the crates ever moved?” asked Karl.

  “Good question,” replied Mueller. Regrettably I don’t know. This was the last letter we ever received from him.” He tapped the letter and looked out across the lake staring into the distance.

  “Do we know exactly what was in the crates?” asked Fritz.

  “Another good question, that I don’t know the answer to,” replied Mueller. “I don’t think my father knew. At least he never said. But there were plenty of rumours.”

  “Rumours,” repeated Karl. “What kind of rumours?”

  “All kinds,” Mueller replied. “Some said that they contained ammunition, or maybe small weapons. Others said that they contained counterfeit currency.”

  “Counterfeit currency,” Karl repeated, as he looked across at Fritz.

  “That’s right, counterfeit money,” Mueller replied. “Hitler had an idea to weaken the British and American economy. He gave instructions that vast quantities of forged British and American money was to be produced. The task was actually given to Bernhard Krueger, a master forger. The actual money was made and printed by Jewish prisoners in the Concentration camps. Many of them, of course, were subsequently executed.”

  Mueller took another drink from his glass, and sat staring across the lake at the setting sun. The others said nothing.

  Mueller looked away from the lake, and turned toward his companions. “My father firmly believed that at least some of those crates contained gold,” he said almost in a whisper. “However, whatever those crates did contain, the orders were that when the time came they were to be hidden in and around Lake Kammersee.”

  “Hidden did you say,” said Fritz. “Not destroyed.”

  “That’s right,” said Mueller. “My father was convinced that someone actually planned on recovering the crates at a later date.” He took another drink. “At the time of my father’s last letter, they were waiting for the final orders to go. We never heard from him again.” As he said these last words his voice seemed to falter. “Would you care to see the letters?” he said as he passed the document to Fritz.

  Fritz read them slowly, and then passed them on to Karl.

  “You know, my father’s letters were so detailed, so vivid,” Mueller continued. “I can actually visualise everything that he writes about, as clear
as day.”

  As Karl finished reading the letter, he carefully folded it and handed them back to Mueller.

  Mueller returned the letter to his inside pocket. “It’s clear to me that some of the rumours were true, and that at least a number of those crates did contain Reichsbank gold,” he continued. “Where they were hidden exactly, I couldn’t say. Whether they are still hidden at Kammersee, or have been recovered by someone, I don’t know.”

  “Maybe those final orders never came,” suggested Karl. “Perhaps they were never taken to Kammersee, at all. “Perhaps they are still hidden somewhere at Toplitzsee.”

  “Perhaps,” Mueller replied. “Nonetheless, I am convinced that my father’s death was closely associated with those crates. I don’t know how, or why. I know it’s a long shot, and I could be wasting my time,” he said. “I propose paying Kammersee a visit, to see what I can find. Your help would be greatly appreciated.” He looked out at the lake. The sun had now set, and it was beginning to get dark. He picked up his glass, and drained the contents. “I shall go anyway,” he said. “With, or without you; I would prefer to go with you, but it’s your decision.”

  Fritz was still unsure, apprehensive. “How do you intend carrying out a search of the area?” he asked. “Are you a diver?”

  Mueller looked down at the table. “No I am not a diver,” he replied quietly. “Not in the true sense, that is. I have made some dives, amateur stuff, you know. But nothing on the scale that would be necessary, I know that.”

  He looked up and turned to face Fritz. “Look I am determined to find out about my father, whatever it takes. Your help would be of immense value. In fact I admit it, I need your help. That’s it really, simple as that. But if you choose not to help me, well there’s no more to say.” His voice trailed away.

  Fritz placed his hand on Mueller’s shoulder. “Well we haven’t actually achieved too much at Toplitzsee, have we, Karl? Some coins, and several rounds of ammunition, and that’s about it.” For the time being Fritz had no intention of mentioning finding the remains of the test centre. He looked at Karl. “Perhaps we will be more fortunate at Kammersee, eh? Another drink anyone?”

  Chapter Three

  Lake Kammersee

  The following day the three men slowly made their way along a narrow track running through the dense forest between Toplitzsee and Kammersee. The pathway was extremely undulating, and in some areas it was difficult to retain a foothold. In many areas the track was ill defined. In some places it disappeared completely, being overgrown with vegetation. The impenetrable nature of the terrain made the search operation extremely difficult. Although by the same token, the three men reasoned that the same circumstance meant that the possible hiding places would be limited.

  “Hans,” Fritz called out. “Are you absolutely convinced that your father, and the others, carried those heavy crates through all this? I wouldn’t fancy doing it.”

  “I know what you mean,” Mueller replied. He looked around, and tried to imagine his father walking through the exact spot where he was now standing. It was a strange feeling. He was probably looking at the same things that his father had seen all of those years previously. He could have been touching the same things that his father had. He walked to a tree, and rubbed his hand over the branch. Maybe his father had touched that same tree. “Hey guys,” he shouted to the others, excitedly. The others stopped, and turned back toward him, wondering what the commotion was all about. “Just think for a moment,” he continued. “We are actually standing where those German troops were ten years ago. Imagine that?” Then he realised something quite profound. He looked at the others, and said slowly, “I could literally be following in my father’s footsteps.”

  The significance of this remark was not lost on the others. “That’s right,” commented Fritz. “I bet that you never imagined such a thing in your wildest dreams, did you?”

  Karl looked at Mueller. “I wonder what it was like back then, ten years ago, I mean,” he said. “I suppose this area would have been pretty much the same, don’t you?”

  “Probably,” said Mueller, although he was not altogether certain. “Although I suppose the German troops could have cleared the pathway to make their journey easier. Perhaps they would have cut down some trees, and cleared the undergrowth. Who knows? The trees could easily have re-established themselves in a few years.”

  Fritz looked around at the trees. Well that was certainly true. Trees and plants were constantly growing, and dying, and being replaced by other new plants. He noticed that there were many different types of tree, and a vast range in both size, and age.

  Some of the trees appeared to be young saplings, thin, but still quite tall. Others were obviously much older. Their branches had twisted and turned, stretching upwards, trying to reach the sunlight. There were many snapped branches lying on the ground, rotting. A number of trees were leaning over, their roots becoming exposed. This was probably due to landslides, over the years, as a result of heavy rainfall. Many trees had fallen, and were lying on the ground covered with lichens and moss. Perhaps, some of these trees had actually been deliberately cut down.

  Fritz stared at the trees, trying to visualise what could have happened to them. Maybe, the German soldiers had actually cut some of them down, as Hans had suggested, forming a pathway. “So Hans, what do you think? Did they really carry those boxes? I mean if they were full of gold bars, they would have been incredibly heavy.”

  “Yes they would have been” Mueller replied. “I have given a lot of thought about that. I’m not really sure whether they actually carried the crates or not. I very much doubt it. They may have used a different method. I don’t know. However, I am absolutely certain that they did transport a number of crates through this forest. I am equally certain that those crates contained gold bullion.”

  “They could have dragged the crates, I suppose,” suggested Karl. “Or maybe they used a sledge of some kind. Or perhaps they used donkeys, or some other pack animal. That’s possible isn’t it?”

  “You know, Karl, you could be right,” said Mueller, following behind. “They could have. Though I think if they had used animals, mules would have been more likely. The German Army used them a lot at that time.”

  “Whatever it was, I wouldn’t mind some of those donkeys, or mules, or anything, to carry me right now,” said Fritz. “I’m getting quite tired.”

  “It can’t be much further,” rejoined Karl, who had now taken the lead position. “Not according to the map, anyway.” He stopped, and pointed. “Yes, look, there. I can see the lake through the trees. Another fifty metres I would say, seventy-five at the most.”

  * * *

  A few minutes later the three men emerged from the forest, into a small clearing, which sloped gently down to the water’s edge. Thankfully they placed their equipment on to the ground, and sat down.

  The previous evening they had planned their course of action at the lake. They had decided that it would be more convenient if they actually set up camp at the site. It was thought that the authorities would be more concerned with regard to Toplitzsee, and not with Kammersee. Fritz reasoned, therefore, that they would be safe from prying eyes, or restrictions imposed by the police.

  Within a short while they had found a suitable spot, and their tent was erected. From their position they could see most of the lake, which was, generally oval in shape, although it was wider at the eastern end. It was approximately three hundred metres long. The land surrounding the lake rose steeply, and was covered with tall conifer trees. On the northern side the majestic limestone faces of the mountain could be seen. Scattered across the limestone were a number of crevices, and what appeared to be caverns. Springing from the limestone outcrops were several waterfalls. Most of them were quite small, the water merely a trickle running down the limestone face, and disappearing into a crevice, the water finding its way through the cavernous system that lay within the mountain.

  There was, however, one waterfall, which
was more substantial, more significant. It was approximately two hundred metres high, and approximately ten metres wide. It discharged directly into the lake, at a point directly opposite to where they now stood. Just to the left of the falls there was a small clearing similar to the one that they now occupied. Obviously they would need a boat to get over there, if they wished to check it.

  Mueller got up, and walked to the water’s edge. “According to my father’s letter, it was only special crates that were to be brought to Kammersee. I don’t know how many crates there were, but they must have been placed into the lake, right here,” he said. “I can’t see any other suitable place, can you?” he asked the others.

  They came over to where Mueller was standing, and looked around the lake’s perimeter. As far as they could see, Mueller was probably correct.

  Nonetheless, there were other possibilities. “Maybe they didn’t hide the crates in the lake, at all,” Karl suggested. “Perhaps they buried them.”

  “Highly unlikely, in my opinion,” said Mueller. “Firstly, they would not have had the time, and secondly, I can’t actually see a possible site for burying the crates. It is all so overgrown.”

  “It is now,” said Karl. “But, perhaps ten years ago it was a little clearer. Maybe the German troops would have made a clearing, suitable for their purpose.”

  Well that was certainly possible, thought Fritz. “It seems to me that under the present circumstances, our search is going to be extremely restricted,” he suddenly announced. The others turned toward him. “I suggest, therefore that we act within those limitations.”

  “What are you thinking, Fritz?” asked Karl. He knew that when his friend used phrases like “it seems to me”, or “I suggest” he had a plan forming.