The plant had no guards now, but that was to change, Peis knew, as of the first of December. (The coming change sparked considerable curiosity in Peis, What were they going to make in there that required all that security? ) The local SS-SD office (that is to say, Peis) had been ordered to dig up before December enough “cleared” civilians to handle the security job. If he could not provide enough “cleared” civilians, the police would have to provide the guard force, at the expense of whatever else they were supposed to be doing.
Meanwhile, a substantial guardhouse had been built. And a nearly completed eight-foot fence, topped with barbed wire, surrounded the plant property. At hundred-yard intervals there were guard towers, with floodlights to illuminate the fence.
Peis found Reichsminister Albert Speer and his party by driving around until he discovered the little convoy of “borrowed” automobiles.
Speer was inside a work bay. The bay was half full of milling machines and lathes, and there were provisions for more. As soon as he saw Peis and Professor Dyer, Speer walked over to them. He was smiling, and his hand was extended.
“Professor Doktor Dyer?” Speer asked.
“Herr Speer?” Dyer replied, making a bow of his head and offe ring his hand.
“I’m very pleased to meet you,” Speer said. “I’ve been reading with great interest your paper on the malleability of tungsten carbide.” “Which paper?” Dyer asked, on the edge of rudeness. “There have been several.”
“The one you delivered at Dresden,” Speer answered, seemingly ignoring Dyer’s tone.
“That was the last,” Dyer said.
Speer looked at Peis the way he would look at a servant.
“We will be an hour,” Speer said, dismissing him, “perhaps a little longer.
Could I impose further on your kindness and ask you to arrange for Professor Dyer to be returned afterward to wherever he wishes?”
“It will be my pleasure, Herr Reichsminister,” Peis said.
“You are very kind,” Speer said.
“I am at your service, Herr Reichsminister,” Peis said.
Since there was time before he had to retrieve his car, Peis walked the new fence surrounding the plant. The professional cop in him liked what he saw. In his judgment, whoever had set up the fence knew what he was doing. It would be difficult for any undesirable to get into the plant area. Or to get out of it.
He noticed too, on his journey of inspection, that the fence enclosed an open area large enough to build laborer barracks. He had heard that the Todt Organization was recruiting laborers from France, Belgium, the Netherlands–and even from the East–to work in German industry.
They could not, of course, be permitted to roam freely around Germany.
After his tour, he settled into his Mercedes-Benz and started the engine.
It was a waste of fuel, but he wanted the engine running anyway, partly because he intended to turn on the radios (unless the engine was running, the radios quickly drained the battery), but primarily because it was cold, Whatever the virtues of the Mercedes’ diesel engine, it was a sonofabitch to start when it was cold. He did not want Reichsminister Speer to remember him as the SS officer whose car couldn’t be made to run. Peis himself didn’t mind some additional warmth either.
Over the shortwave radio, Peis checked in with both his headquarters and the detachment guarding the Reichminister’s rail car at the Bahnhof. He then tuned in Radio Frankfurt on the civilian band radio.
The news was that the Wehrmacht in Russia continued to adjust its lines and inflict heavy casualties upon the enemy. But then there was a surprise, In blatant violation of international law, at four that morning, United States naval, air, and ground forces had started shelling and bombing French North Africa. Later, an American invasion force was sent ashore on both Atlantic and Mediterranean beaches.
Terrible casualties were inflicted upon innocent, neutral civilians, etc. , etc. , etc. The invasion was obviously successful, Peis concluded. Otherwise, the announcer would have gleefully proclaimed that it had been thrown back into the sea.
Why didn’t the Americans mind their own damned business? Peis wondered. Germany had no real quarrel with America. What the hell did they want with French North Africa, anyhow? There was nothing there but sand and Arabs riding around on camels.