The Princess of Berlin: Prequel1938

Prequel: (1938: A Winter in Italy.)

Twenty horse wagons grind through the January mud, the dark, the wind. Swinging left after crossing the Mussolini canal, churning the Pontine marsh, neighing, slipping, and splattering their tracks and sides lurching to a stop. Lights flicker from-shielded torches. Cigarettes glow as twenty German and thirty Italian men huddle under tarpaulins, waiting out the storm.

Sea air, damp and salty, gusts through the long marsh grass and scant tree cover. Rainsqualls diminish to uneven. Low voices chatter. Primus stoves are lit, an early breakfast for man and beast starts. Draft horses, unlimbered and rubbed, nicker and stretch, grazing the marsh grass.

Casual observers are few and dismiss the work party as flood repairs. A more interested observer would note the good condition of the wagons, the Prussian warm blood horse teams, and the generous oat and supplement rations. These interested observes have been weathered in at Anzio, and this work party is alone on the muddy beach plain.

The Italian workers pull camouflage tenting out of the horse wagons. Tenting, dispersed, and hidden around the camp areas conceals wagons, tools and one potent 20 mm Madsen auto cannon.

Italians are, after 16 years of Il Duce, finally seeing prosperity in 1938 and coastal construction is not rare. Enjoying an “economic boom”, its merchant marine and ocean liners booked to capacity for North and South American transit, and its war industries exporting at full capacity. Britain wants to buy an immediate 300 Regianne 2000 fighters for the Far East. Italian shipping to Germany has captured the Mexican oil trade.

Still, work remained sporadic south of Rome. Italy had expended vast amounts of scarce capital to no real gain in Spain. Ethiopia has yet to produce a return. Italians had no need for war- and no enthusiasm for a “pointless war”.


William Patrick Hitler first saw the Latina coast in the warm summer days of 1937. Today, he is grateful for his warm loden coat. He is twenty hours ahead of his convoy of Opel trucks rolling south for the 1939 Rome Industrial Transport winter exhibit. He nudges the tall young Austrian –' my fellow thief and siphoner heading up this work detail. `


“So what’s the cover story for this nice weather outing, Werner?”

“Coffer damming”, laughed Werner Raeder. “And it is a causal outing, WP no saluting, no Captain, just Werner, no uniform. Nothing alerts the workers. Or the Owl Eyes.”

“There will be questions…”

Ok- it is a foundation for our field installed demonstration auto cannon, in case anyone asks . The work crew saw the cannon and buy the cover. In this swamp- obviously ordered by higher ups”a test model from Opel GMBH. Tell them it’s full secrecy- a surprise for when Mussolini comes to inspect this stretch of the Pontine swamps- aka, “Il Duce’s land of promise”.

“There WILL be comments on that. We are not Italians. Six months ago, we were Austrians. Now we are Grossduetchlanders”

“If you get a couple of comments, famous nephew and it’s just idle chatter, just village comments, handle it- or let Bennie handle it- the little Maltese speaks better Italian than the Italians. Anything more sends them to me. Now get them on the shovels and wheelbarrows. They have had eggs, bacon, smokes, real coffee… even new boots. If the locals do not like it, there is lots of other winter drainage line work - on plain rye bread lunch. They will be quiet. “

Raeder watches.” Damn, he is good. Robbing his famous uncle before his very eyes… WP burst into Germany, what,fourteen months ago? Now he has connections, he has been treated like the unofficial heir apparent to his Uncle Adolf. - Now he is our partner , “diverting “stolen valuables, which could get us all strangled from meat hooks…”does the man enjoy pushing danger’s limits? That makes him a real risk....”

However, that also makes him real “potential”. He represents OPEL GMBH at every major truck and auto show in Europe, which lets him move vehicles, obtain weapons on exchange,provide a cover story when we need parts and materials....

The Reich is cash starved and half of Europe is “going to earth”, burying its wealth. Lord, I would have loved to get this cache to some place in the Americas. This desolate spot in the Pontine is the best that we can manage.

Forty million pound Sterling, perhaps three times that and it is currently trundling south from Saltsburg on four sealed trucks. Eyes everywhere and everybody reports to the Gestapo. We are lucky we got this load out!

What if the war breaks out? It could be years before we can safely retreive this cache. Will the water tight seals hold on the containers? They were smuggled out of Heinkel as “experimental self-sealing fuel tanks”. No one asked too closely the “aircraft” they were designed for…

Fifteen of us, and we are pledged to share out a fortune each when time and tides allow. All that binds us is old family, our student friendships, and the friendship of the secrets of those who would revive the Hohenzollern dynasty under a new prince.

Young Hitler, the nephew, is truly the wild card. We trust him because we need him. What a razors edge we trod.”

William Patrick Hitler strides to where Bennie’s crew is hitching the supply horses to the Fresno’s. He checks harness collars for burrs and for fit. He likes horses. The touch of horse soft nicker nickers, snort and shuffle. The Sea fog rolls in and muffles the booming Italian surf. Lost in the moment, he returns to the sea change in his own life, four years ago, summoned to Germany, summoned out of poverty ….