flak to lower its ceiling of fire to eighteen thousand feet. At :
.. Metz ordered, “All night fighters to Bear [Berlin].” But
Berlin was only the decoy. The only planes over the city were
the Mosquitoes, Herrmann’s men, and some twin-engined
night-fighters on whom these trigger happy free-lancers now
opened fire. For two hours the slam-bang barrage went on over
Berlin.
At : .. the next morning Luftwaffe headquarters
learned that the night’s real RAF target had been Peenemünde,
the top-secret army-missile establishment where the A- long-
range rocket was being built and tested. It was in flames, and
seven hundred rocket scientists and engineers were dead.
Jeschonnek was awakened with this awful news at Goldap at :
.. Hitler phoned soon after from the Wolf’s Lair. “You know
what to do!” he snapped. Jeschonnek did there was precedent
enough.
Later that morning a teleprinter message arrived on the
Obersalzberg from General Meister. It informed Göring that
Jeschonnek had shot himself dead. Betraying no emotions,
Göring notified Richthofen in Rome. The laconic telegram
merely said that Jeschonnek had died suddenly of a “stomach
hemorrhage.” Equally stone-faced, Richthofen dictated his own
diary comment: “Lost a good comrade and friend. Who will
succeed him?”
Göring of course, had to fly up to East Prussia immedi-
ately. Major von Below, Hitler’s air-force adjutant, and Meister
met him at Rastenburg Airfield. “Jeschonnek promised me he
would never do this,” said Göring helplessly.
At air-force headquarters, Jeschonnek’s mortal remains
were lying in his little wooden hut. Göring went in alone and
emerged shaking his head. “Some saint!” he sniffed. He ordered
Meister to open the general’s safe. It contained two envelopes