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Nordhausen—City of Missiles and Death
whereabouts now, I do not know. Perhaps it is in some archives and someone will
manage to find them.
While we were investigating Mittelwerk, a new group of specialists arrived in
Nordhausen from our NII-1, including Professors Knorre and Gukhman;
Dushkin, the chief designer of the first liquid-propellant rocket engine for the BI
aircraft; and Chernyshev, a chemist and rocket propellant specialist. Late that
evening, when we had made our way back to town, tired and dusty, dreaming of
rest, this information-starved team pounced on us and demanded to be let in on
all our secrets.While Abramovich conversed with them, Isayev, who dearly loved
practical jokes, pulled me aside and said,“We’ve got to get rid of them or else our
hands will be tied.With this professoriate we’ll have nothing but trouble.”
“But how? We have no right to just drive them out of Nordhausen.”
“I have an idea.We’ll frighten them with British-American intelligence—I’m
sure they’re hunting for Soviet specialists, documents, and great State secrets.”
Isayev pulled off the performance in his best tradition. In the middle of the
night, the entire host of scientists was invited to our dark mysterious villa.There
Isayev announced to them that in 20–30 minutes, an agent, whom we had
recruited from British intelligence, would arrive, having crossed the border to
discuss secret documentation for the Wasserfall missile and provide information
about where these missiles had been hidden. Moreover, he knew where von Braun
himself was. It would be very good if our comrades just arriving from Moscow
would get involved in the operation to abduct von Braun.
During these explanations, a prearranged knock was heard at the window
overlooking the dark garden. Isayev grabbed his pistol and commanded,“Quick,
everybody into that room and don’t make any noise. Chertok will conduct
the meeting.”
I received the “agent,” whose role was brilliantly played by Shmargun dressed in
a quasi-American uniform.At first we talked a bit in German.Then I began to yell
in Russian that we could not promise so many dollars, this was out-and-out
robbery, and so forth. Shmargun, our agent, threatened that his bosses already knew
about the arrival in Nordhausen of high-ranking Soviet rocket engine specialists.
As a sign of his good relationship with us, he asked me to warn them that it would
be better for their safety to leave here for the time being. I thanked him for his
valuable information and said that this service would be paid for. Our “agent”
quietly withdrew. Isayev released everyone from the adjacent room and asked
triumphantly,“Did you hear that?”
But we didn’t stop there.We took the frightened company under our guard
to the apartment where the commandant’s office had settled them—they
immediately discovered that their suitcases had been opened and searched!
Isayev, feigning anger, demanded answers from the landlady. She explained that
some officers had come and demanded that she show where her tenants were
staying.The landlady had been coached in advance on how to answer. Needless
to say, the entire group of specialists wished us success and set off in the direc-
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