Dachau. 26 April 1945.
It was late in the grey afternoon as Johann Langner continued to watch the main gatehouse at Dachau concentration camp from the cover of a ditch a hundred or so yards back. He was observing the vehicles coming and going, and he had noted that far more attention was being paid to those vehicles leaving the complex than to those entering, which was as he had expected. Vehicles leaving were searched so thoroughly he doubted anyone trying to escape could avoid detection. Vehicles entering, however, were given no more than cursory glances by the guards. After all, who in their right mind would choose to break into a concentration camp?
Johann was not in his right mind.
Upon his return to Martha’s house in Gilching, the kindly woman had taken Adelina and his son in without question, and Johann knew she would care for them as best she could until his return. Just the same, he feared for Adelina. He had noted her decline even on the short drive out of the city. It was as if she were at last giving up her will to live now that she knew her charge, Johann’s son, was delivered to him and was in safe hands. It made Johann all the more resolved to do what he knew he must now do.
As soon as Adelina and his son were made comfortable, Johann had changed back into his uniform, thinking that in the fading light of the afternoon, should he be seen at the concentration camp, he would blend in better than if he were wearing civilian clothing. Closer inspection of his now clean but battle-weary uniform, however, would single him out as a member of the Leibstandarte in an instant, potentially raising questions he knew he could not satisfactorily answer. He would have to be careful.
A supply truck approached the camp and Johann ducked back into the ditch so as not to be caught in its headlights. He listened, and when the truck drew level he climbed out from the ditch and ran along behind it, using it as a screen. The truck was ten feet high and covered with a tarpaulin that was lashed with ropes, which Johann thought he could use. As the vehicle approached the gate, it slowed. He had to act fast. As soon as the truck stopped, he grabbed the ropes and pulled himself up onto the roof, where he lay still and silent, listening to the words being exchanged between the guards and the driver as the driver was ordered to show his papers.
A moment later the truck’s engine started up again and the gates were opened. Then the truck passed through, beneath the ever watchful gaze of the giant black eagle Johann had seen on his previous visit. He remained low as the truck moved through the outer layer of the complex, keeping still so as not to draw attention to himself should anyone glimpse the truck from above. But it was almost dark now, and he imagined the guards’ eyes would naturally be focused towards the concentration camp. At least, Johann hoped they were.
A few minutes passed, and with every second Johann felt his pulse quicken. The supply truck turned one corner and another, and he tried to glimpse where it was taking him, but although he had been to the camp before, he was not well acquainted with its layout, especially in the fading light. When at last the truck came to a stop, he waited, breathing slowly to calm himself. He was outside an open-fronted, single-storey building, and seeing an assortment of military vehicles parked inside, he realised the truck had pulled up outside a garage block. He kept his head down as he heard the truck’s doors open. Then the loading ramp at the back was dropped with a slam that jarred his nerves.