Germanica Page 15

  “What a shame,” said Goebbels. He didn’t bother to hide his smile. If the detested Bormann was dead, it was better for him and for Germany. “I suppose that leaves Admiral Doenitz as a possible pretender.”

  Hahn nodded. “The admiral has been in radio contact with us. As you know, he has located his headquarters at Flensburg, near the Danish border. He now commands all German military forces not in Germanica and under our control. He considers himself the current president of Germany, but not of Germanica.”

  “Just as well,” said Goebbels. “We could do nothing to support each other.” He laughed bitterly, “Too damn many Allied armies in the way.” It occurred to him that he should promote Hahn to some higher position. The man obviously had skills and was needed.

  “Minister,” said Schoerner, “The admiral wishes to know what to do about surrendering his armies to the Allies. He wants desperately to avoid surrendering them to the Soviets.”

  Goebbels thought for a moment. “Let him work out whatever arrangements he wishes. He can surrender all the damn armies and ships under his command. The armies of Germanica, however, are not under his command and any announcement that he is attempting to surrender them will be rejected. Germanica is an independent country and does not answer to any rump German government in Flensburg.”

  Goebbels lit a cigarette and puffed angrily. Smoking in the caverns was supposedly prohibited, but who was going to stop him. He was Adolf Hitler’s successor. He took a deep breath and continued. “It has occurred to me that we have been too focused on the bare needs for our survival. Now we must go beyond that if we are to become a true nation. We need other nations, preferably a number of them, to recognize Germanica. That way we can send people out armed with diplomatic immunity. Ergo, we need a diplomatic corps, albeit it will have to be a small one. Anyone have suggestions?”

  “I assume von Papen and von Ribbentrop are not possible,” said Schoerner, referring to the current and previous foreign secretaries.

  Goebbels agreed. “Ribbentrop is an ass and von Papen is too old. That assumes, of course, that we could find him and bring him here. Albert Speer might be acceptable, but where is he? The last I heard, he was headed towards someplace near Hamburg.”

  “I will make some contacts, Minister,” said Hahn. “If he is in the Hamburg area, it should not be too difficult to bring him here, via Switzerland of course.”

  Schoerner was dubious. “I have serious doubts that anyone will recognize the nation of Germanica, much less negotiate with us. The Americans are in total control and will exert enormous pressure on countries to ignore us. Even some otherwise sympathetic nations like Argentina might wait a long while before recognizing us. I would think that the same would hold true with Spain. It may be quite a while before any major or even second tier nation acknowledges our existence.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Hahn. “How can anyone ignore us? We are here, aren’t we? We aren’t spirits or ghosts.”

  Goebbels smiled tolerantly. “You still have a lot to learn, Major. Nations, especially victorious ones, can do what they wish and not necessarily what is right. And by the way, your work here in Bregenz has been above and beyond the call of duty.”

  “Thank you, Minister.”

  “It has occurred to me that you do not have enough rank to do your job properly. Therefore, I am promoting you to the temporary rank of SS-Brigadefuhrer. I understand it is equivalent to being a brigadier general in the American army.” He held out his hand, which was taken by a stunned Hahn. “Congratulations, General, now go and continue your good work. And someday you must tell me the truth about how your face got so badly bruised. I’ll bet she was a real tiger.”

  Hahn laughed indulgently. He would never tell his leader and new Fuhrer that he’d been momentarily bested in combat by a woman and that his bruises had nothing to do with a sexual encounter. Well, almost nothing. In private he’d already contemplated the fate in store for the woman if he should ever find her.

  “One other thing,” said Schoerner. “Has there been anything on the whereabouts of the physicist named Heisenberg? The non-Jew Abraham is very upset that he hasn’t turned up. Apparently, he is very important to the success of our nuclear program.”

  Goebbels shrugged dismissively. “I don’t understand. He’s already told us he will succeed with the resources he currently has. Perhaps you should tell him that failure will not result in his being shot. Instead it will entail his being hanged by the neck by piano wire while his toes barely scrape the ground. I’m told that dying that way is lengthy and excruciating. Perhaps that bon mot of knowledge will motivate him.”

  * * *

  Lena and Sister Columba walked through the crowd of people waiting at the gate at the sprawling American army base. There seemed to be a line of sorts and there was some grumbling when they walked right up to the front of it. The guard, a young sergeant, seemed amused by the disturbance.

  “And what can I do for you sisters?” he asked politely and in passable German.

  Lena shocked him by responding in fluent English. “I would like to see a Roman Catholic priest and it is a matter of some urgency.”

  “Perhaps I should call the officer of the guard and let him decide. Does what you want to talk to the priest about have anything to do with the Nazis?”

  “In a way, but not what you suspect. It is also very personal, which is why I want to see a priest. I believe that chaplains are also officers, so why not let him decide about the officer of the guard after I have spoken to him.”

  “Sounds fair,” said the sergeant. “Although I can’t imagine what kind of sins a nun like you has committed that requires such personal service.”

  A few minutes later, Captain Richard Shanahan, chaplain and captain in the U.S. Army, arrived at the gate. “Why do you wish to speak with me, Sister, and I am told you understand English. That’s good since my miserable high school German hasn’t improved at all.”

  Father Shanahan was short and slight. He wore glasses and was nearly bald. Lena guessed that he gave long sermons. “May we speak privately?”

  Shanahan waved her inside the compound. The sergeant looked away. As always, what officers did was their business. “Now what is it, Sister?”

  Lena spoke quickly to prevent Father Shanahan from cutting her off. “First, I may have killed two people. Second, I am neither a nun nor a Catholic. I was kept as a slave for several years by a family of Nazis. When I found that they were going to sell me to a munitions factory where people were worked to death, I escaped. Their two adult children tried to stop me and I know I hurt them badly. These nuns have sheltered me. They are saints, or they should be.”

  “How much of this can you prove?”

  Shanahan looked away when she reached under her habit and removed the cloth-wrapped pistol. The priest took it and whistled when he unwrapped it. “This came from the first war. It’s quite valuable,” he said.

  “For a man of God, you understand weapons quite well.”

  He chuckled. “I took vows of chastity and obedience, but not poverty of any kind. I like to hunt and, after all, I am in the army. So yes, I do understand weapons, and I do have many other vices. Now, what else do you have for me?”

  She also showed him her identity papers, the ones that said she was a Jew. “But I am not a Jew.” She then gave him the papers she’d forged on Nazi letterhead and a pass once given her by Frau Schneider.

  “You’ve been quite prudent and clever,” the priest said admiringly. “Now, what do you want from me?”

  “I need a job, and a job in which I can use my skills to hurt the Nazis. I want to punish the people who killed my fiancé and probably murdered my father. I want to punish the people who kept me enslaved.”

  “Your enslavement wasn’t all that horrible compared with others.”

  “Agreed, but wasn’t it your Abraham Lincoln who said that to the extent a man is not free, he is a slave? And besides, they were about to sell me to a factory where I
would have been worked to death.”

  “Can you type and file?”

  “Of course. And I can translate as well. As you see, I speak fluent English, which I can also read and write. The same is true with German and Czech.”

  Shanahan grinned. “Well, we don’t have all that much call for Czech speakers, but one never knows. I do know that we are hurting for locals who weren’t members of the Nazi Party. Of course, everybody swears on their mother’s grave that they were never Nazis. So many do that it makes you wonder just how Adolf and two or three other guys took over Germany and much of the world. You certainly qualify for the honor of genuinely being a non-Nazi.”

  Lena took a deep breath. Is this going to be the first step in leading a normal life? She turned and saw Sister Columba edging away. She waved and Columba waved back, still slowly leaving.

  “Are you dressed decently under the habit?”

  “Yes, and I have other clothes in the bag I brought.”

  “Good. I’ll find you a place where you can change into something civilian and then I’ll introduce you to some people.”

  “Thank you,” she said and started crying.

  Father Shanahan gave her a handkerchief. It wasn’t terribly clean but it did help dry off her tears. “Lena Bobekova, let me be the first to welcome you to the 105th Infantry Division.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Winnie was still in terrible pain and could hardly walk. She managed to clean herself but she looked awful. The bruises on her face had darkened and the eye that was nearly swollen shut also had a ruptured blood vessel that made the white of her eye look scarlet. She looked like something from a cheap horror movie. She’d insisted that Ernie go to her apartment and get her a pair of sunglasses.

  It also hurt her to breathe. It was difficult for her to stand up straight. This finally convinced her to go to a doctor who informed them that she had at least two cracked ribs. There might have been a third, but the x-ray machine he was using wasn’t very good. The doctor also added that nothing could heal broken ribs besides time.

  On hearing of Winnie’s problems, Dulles had flown into Arbon in a five-seat Cessna AT-17. Two other men flew in with him but they disappeared quickly. Ernie assumed that they had OSS-related jobs to do and he was not about to inquire about them.

  In deference to Winnie’s injuries, they met at Ernie’s quarters. He had moved out of his room and been assigned another one. The remaining two units were still empty.

  Dulles was visibly upset. He’d had agents killed and wounded in the line of duty and hated it. “Winifred, I very much regret getting you involved in that mess. You were fortunate to survive. Had we lost you, I would have been devastated.”

  “So would I,” she said with an attempt at humor, “It’s all right, sir. After all, who could have known that Hitler would choose that day to join his friends and relatives in Hell? But was anyone able to finish my task?”

  Dulles smiled. “That is being taken care of as we speak.” It was an obvious reference to the men who had flown in with him. “On the other hand, Captain Janek, I understand you had a little, ah, fun this morning.”

  “I was just doing some reconnoitering, sir.”

  “What in God’s name did you do?” asked a shocked Winnie. “You didn’t cross the border, did you? You wouldn’t have lasted ten seconds if you’d been stopped.”

  Ernie was quietly delighted that she was concerned. “Nothing of the sort. I just wondered if the hole in the fence I’d made had been fixed, so just before dawn I went and checked it out. At first it didn’t look like anything had been done to it, so I crawled closer. Then I noticed a bunch of wires and realized the place had been booby-trapped by the Nazi swine.”

  He smiled at the memory. “So I went to the garbage dump and found a really ripe dead cat. I put it in a bag and crawled close to the wire. When I figured I was close enough, I took the stinking animal out of the bag and hurled it into the hole in the fence. Sure enough, it triggered the booby traps and they exploded. Dead cat went flying all over the place. Lights went on and German soldiers went screaming towards the pieces of the poor little dead kitty. When I left them, I think they were trying to figure out if it was the cat who’d set of the explosives or something else. It was nice to see the Germans grubbing through debris and dead cat.”

  Dulles shook his head. “Do me a favor and don’t do it again.”

  “But I did it for Winnie.”

  Winnie leaned over and clutched herself. “I told you not to make me laugh.”

  Ernie decided it was time to change the subject. “Sir, what plans do you have for us?”

  “For the time being you are to sit tight and observe. Check the border and note any changes. Take the boat out and observe, but only after Winnie is cleared to swim in case something should happen.”

  “What was the information I was supposed to pick up?” Winnie asked.

  Dulles smiled tolerantly. “Are you wondering just what was worth risking your life? Well, I can’t tell you that right now, but someday I will. Trust me, though, it might have been worth many lives. And if we can still get it, the info will indeed be worth it.”

  * * *

  Eisenhower and Devers looked over the several pages of information they’d just received courtesy of someone. “Amazing,” said Devers. He had flown into Reims at Ike’s request. “It certainly looks like we have people high up in the Redoubt.”

  Ike was not so confident. “You’re assuming that the information is correct. If it is, it is a godsend. How many generals would have loved to have all this much detail about an enemy army before a battle?”

  “I can think of a few who did and still blew it,” Devers said and Ike chuckled.

  What they had before them was a detailed listing of all German units in or near the redoubt. It gave their size, location, and a succinct analysis of their fighting ability. It said that the Germans had reconstituted twenty-five divisions out of the retreating remnants. These totaled one hundred and eighty thousand men. An additional twenty thousand Russians who had turned against Stalin were included along with a division of ten thousand Croats. The Germans also had four hundred tanks. All of the German units were said to be above average in fighting ability. The two generals had their doubts.

  Devers gave his own analysis. “First of all, I believe this analysis tells Goebbels and Schoerner what they want to hear and not what is necessarily the truth. I sense some lower-ranking staff officers trying to save their own skins. I just can’t believe that all the German units are such rabid and diehard Nazis. After all they have been surrendering by the thousands, the hundreds of thousands north of the Redoubt. Why should these guys be any different? They weren’t chosen for any particular skill or dedication. These are just the poor schmucks who happened to be in the area when the Redoubt was formed. If they’d been more fortunate, they’d be in prison camps awaiting repatriation instead of the opportunity to get blown to pieces.”

  “Are you saying they might surrender if given a chance?”

  “Couldn’t hurt to find out.”

  Ike agreed. “Any other thoughts?”

  “Yes. The Russians and the Croats will fight like cornered tigers because they know they are all dead if they are captured. Any captured Croats will be murdered by Tito and the Serbs, and the Russians will be turned over to Stalin who will either shoot them outright or send them to Siberia to be worked to death. If there was some way we could promise either group sanctuary somewhere, perhaps they would not fight so desperately.”

  Ike conceded that Devers had a good point. The current agreement with Moscow required the U.S., Great Britain, and France to turn over to the Russians any captured Red Army deserters. Already there had been incidents of suicides and suicidal resistance from those preferring death with a rifle in hand. Killing one’s self was preferable to either being executed or spending a horrible brutish existence in the snows of Siberia. He did not know of anything regarding the Croats. He made a mental note
to check it out.

  “It may be a lost cause, but I will contact General Marshall regarding your thoughts. Any soldier we can get to surrender will be one less that we will have to root out and kill while he’s killing our boys.”

  “Ike, I could not help but notice that those non-German troops are all stationed on the west side of the Brenner Pass. I wonder if that’s a coincidence. Or maybe they don’t trust them all that much.”

  Ike had noticed it as well. “Very interesting,” was all he said.

  * * *

  Wolfgang Hummel and Martin Schubert had known each other since the day they’d been inducted into the German Army some six years ago. Now they had each risen to the rank of corporal and were still close friends. The men were a team. They operated the MG42 machine gun. Hummel did the actual firing while Schubert supplied ammunition and generally assisted whenever he could. Sometimes they’d switch, but not for long. Hummel was by far the better shot.

  They’d lugged the twenty-five pound weapon along with many pounds of ammunition across several European countries and now found themselves in Germany with the Alps to their back. They considered the gun to be a marvel. It could easily fire twelve hundred rounds a minute, had a range of more than a thousand yards and this one even had a telescopic sight. It also gave off a horrible screeching noise that could easily terrify an enemy soldier. They treated their new gun like a queen, keeping her clean and oiled. And why not? She had helped keep them alive.

  Hummel looked around to see if anyone could hear them speak. He had to do it casually since any furtive movements attracted suspicion. “Martin, do you think we’ve come far enough to stop retreating?”

  “I think we went far enough a month ago. When the Americans landed at Normandy I knew it was all over. We couldn’t stop either the Russians or the Americans. Germany had to sue for peace, but our leaders didn’t and now it may be too late.”

  “Agreed.” Hummel pulled out a pack of cigarettes and handed it to Martin. They lit up and enjoyed the smoke. The cigarettes were Americans, taken off a dead GI. He would no longer need them, they’d thought. Besides, they had laughed, cigarettes were bad for your health.