The German Wife(28)
“What were you and Karl talking about today when you walked away from us? Did he mention the job?” I asked Jürgen later that night, once we were in bed. He had been unusually quiet through dinner. When Georg made silly faces and Mayim and I gave him the laughs he so clearly expected, Jürgen barely managed a smile.
But we’d been married long enough for me to know that Jürgen needed the cover of darkness to open up about his worries. And the minute my head hit the pillow, my curiosity got the better of me.
“Do you remember a few weeks before the election, when the space society held our last launch?” Jürgen asked.
“I do.”
“Karl brought an audience without warning us. It turns out the men were senior officials in the Nazi party.”
That startled me. I sat up and flicked on my bedside lamp, then turned to frown down at him. Jürgen also sat up and retrieved his glasses from the table on his side of the bed. We stared at one another.
“Did you know who they were at the time?”
“No, I didn’t—but I was humiliated, and frankly, irritated with Karl for bringing anyone at all. Besides, it didn’t seem to matter much at the time.” Jürgen drew in a deep breath. “Only it turns out the Nazis want to establish their own rocket program. Karl told me today that the position he’s been hinting at would be with a new division within Army Ordnance.”
“A job? In rockets?” I was so startled by this, I couldn’t hide my shock.
“You’ve never taken my work seriously,” Jürgen said abruptly. He was right—I had not. But for good reason.
“Your rockets explode without warning at least half the time! Including this exact launch we’re discussing, if I remember correctly. Isn’t that what happened?” He didn’t reply, so I pushed again. “It floated—”
“It flew, Sofie. Rockets don’t float. They are propelled with force—”
“—for fifteen seconds. Then it exploded. Didn’t you say that a chunk of debris hit one of the other space society members and burned a hole in his coat?” At this, Jürgen fell silent. I sighed impatiently. “I’m allowed to be a little skeptical. You’re talking about flying to the moon with something that can’t get more than a few feet off the ground.”
“Do you really think I’d have invested these years into rocketry if it wasn’t a viable technology? At present, our prototypes aren’t reliable, but inevitably they will be perfected. Every failed launch is an experiment we can learn from.”
“Have they offered jobs to everyone in the rocket group?”
“Karl and I to start with, although I suspect others will be approached soon. As keen as Karl is on rockets, he’s no scientist. He will handle the business aspects of the program, and they want me to lead the technical side.”
“And the ultimate goal is to send a man into space?” I clarified, because this still seemed so unlikely I could barely believe my ears. The rockets Jürgen’s group experimented with weren’t just unreliable—they were toy sized.
“There’s a possibility that they have an ulterior motive.”
“What else could they possibly want them for?”
“Sofie. Think about the launches you’ve been to. Half the time, the rockets explode, don’t they?” I stared at him blankly, and he prompted, “They explode...just like a bomb. That’s an unfortunate side effect of the fuel’s volatility. But just imagine what they could do if we were to intentionally use them as explosive devices.”
To me they always seemed like dangerous toys, foolish toys. But in an instant, I understood that in the wrong hands, those “toys” could have a distinctly dark purpose. Jürgen’s friends were very careful when handling the rockets, but even so, from time to time someone suffered an injury. The best launch they had ever achieved stayed in the air for a full five minutes before it exploded, but it exploded nonetheless.
“You think they want to...weaponize them?”
“An attempt at reaching space makes some sense in terms of rebuilding our international reputation. Simply getting a device to the edge of the atmosphere would attract worldwide praise.”
“It would be incredible,” I whispered. “But is that possible?”
“With the right team and the right budget, I’m confident we could produce rockets capable of traveling many miles.”
“How many miles?”
I could almost see the cogs turning in his mind as he considered this. After a moment, he said, “The moon is 200,000 miles away, and although I still believe it can be done, I’m not convinced I’ll see it in my lifetime. The edge of space is around sixty miles... With enough money and a few decades of development, that’s likely possible. The problem is that even in designing a rocket that can travel sixty miles vertically, we’d have inadvertently designed an explosive device that could land far from its launch point.” At my blank look, he explained patiently, “Gravity is an immensely powerful force. They’d only need to develop ways to manage the angle of the fall so they could target the impact point. It’s a hideous thought, but a well-designed rocket could bomb countries some distance away, without requiring a pilot.”
“But we are prohibited from rearmament. Under the terms of the Treaty of Versailles. And exploding rockets...bombs...”