Himmler's War-ARC (49 page)

German fire was still lethal. A duck to his right took a direct hit and disappeared. Water from the geyser washed over him and something soft glanced off his shoulder. It was someone’s foot. He groaned and then threw up. Like everyone witnessing death, he thought that it could’ve been him and wondered why he was still alive. If he survived this, he would have questions that maybe nobody could answer.

As he closed on the west bank, he saw that work was progressing on no less than three pontoon bridges. Even though shells from German guns splashed around them, the engineers kept on. Brave bastards, Wall thought.

He pulled onto the shore. Men ran to get in, prodded and yelled at by their sergeants. “Get in, sit down, and shut up,” Wall yelled at their frightened faces. “Keep your heads down. If we start to take on water, bail with your helmets. Got that?”

One soldier glared at him. “Kind of uppity, aren’t you?”

Wall was about to respond when the man’s sergeant smashed him in the face, bloodying his nose. “Watch yourself or he’ll dump your worthless ass in this fucking river.”

What a wonderful idea, Tyree thought.

CHAPTER 24

MARGARETE AND THE OTHERS huddled in the bomb shelter that had become her uncle’s pride and joy. The battle wasn’t anywhere near them yet, but it was evident that the Americans were invading to their west and, if successful, would overrun the farm. Now all they had to contend with was the sound of bombs and artillery. Nothing had yet fallen near them. Their move to the shelter was prudence. The laborers weren’t with them. They had their own shelter just outside the barn.

Magda looked at her daughter in the dim candlelight and smiled wanly. “I sure am glad we came here to be safe, aren’t you?”

Before Margarete could respond, her uncle glared at them. “We should be at peace. That fool Himmler should have negotiated with the Allies.”

Margarete was shocked. “I thought you believed in Hitler and ultimate victory.”

Her Uncle Eric sniffed. “I worshiped the ground Hitler walked on but he is dead and Himmler is a pale shadow of the man. I believed all this shit about super weapons and then we’ve used them—rockets and atomic bombs—and what has it gotten us? More death, that’s what. The Americans and British are still coming and we have nothing to stop them with. Tell me, when was the last time you saw a German plane, other than the pissant one Ernst and that boy you like arrived in? No, we have no planes and soon will have no army. The Americans can stand off and destroy us piece by piece and Himmler is letting that happen. If he cannot end the war then he should step aside and let someone who can take over.”

He coughed and spat on the ground. Bertha was about to scold him but saw the look on his face and changed her mind. “And I’ve had it up to here with super weapons,” he continued. “The V1 and V2 rockets were supposed to win the war and they didn’t. Then the atomic bomb was supposed to win it for us, and what has happened? Russia may be slowed down but the Americans are still coming. You know what that means? We don’t have any more bombs. We had one bullet in our gun and we fired it. We may have wounded the wild animal we shot at, but not mortally. Russia will be back and the Americans are here.”

Eric coughed again. The air in the shelter was stuffy. He was about to light his pipe when Bertha smacked his arm. He glared at her but put the pipe away.

“And tell me, little Margarete, what did you think of our army, the Volkssturm? Old men and young boys, wasn’t it? I should be in it. I got a letter calling me up and I ignored it. One war was enough. Half the Volkssturm will be slaughtered while the other half will surrender. It’s already happening,” he said glumly. “Germany is doomed.”

His rage out of his system, Uncle Eric looked fondly at his niece while Bertha remained stonily silent. “I may be an old fool, but I am not so foolish that I cannot learn.”

* * *

Himmler and the German high command had retreated to the reinforced bunker complex built for Hitler under the Chancellery. There was fear that the attacks on the Rhine Wall would bring on new and more devastating bombings of Berlin that would cripple Germany like the atomic bomb had wounded Russia.

Von Rundstedt thought the reason for going underground was that Reichsfuhrer Himmler was afraid. In his opinion, the former chicken farmer was himself a chicken. Himmler was pale, thin, and nervous. His hands shook and there was a twitch in his eye. The next few days would determine whether he and the Reich endured or would become footnotes in history.

Rundstedt broke protocol and began. “Reichsfuhrer, we have to make a decision. It appears that our plan to reinforce our troops confronting Patton might have been a mistake based on insufficient information. The Americans to the north used landing vehicles that didn’t need to be hidden. The sighting of American landing craft in the south was a ruse, a kind of Trojan Horse.”

“Why didn’t we see this?” Himmler said. His voice was barely a whisper.

Varner stood quietly against a wall. Because you didn’t want to see, he thought. But what game was Rundstedt playing?

“I’ve spoken with Admiral Canaris,” said Rundstedt, “and he is now of the opinion that most, if not all, of our observers in the north have either been killed by the Americans or turned by them. In short, we were blind but didn’t know it.”

Himmler nodded. “What do you propose?”

“The reserve army must be turned around to confront the American First Army under Hodges and not Patton’s Third.”

Fifty-three-year-old SS General Sepp Dietrich, who commanded the Reserve Army, stiffened as he realized what Rundstedt was proposing. He’d been recently promoted by Himmler to the rank of field marshal, which greatly annoyed Rundstedt who felt that Dietrich simply lacked the experience and qualifications to have such a distinguished rank or command such a large force. Rundstedt had suggested Dietrich, a mediocre general at best, command the Reserve Army, but had not expected the man’s promotion to field marshal. That Dietrich also looked pale and exhausted seemed to confirm Rundstedt’s doubts. But Dietrich was an SS man through and through, which meant that his total loyalty was to Heimrich Himmler.

“Can you do that?” Himmler asked of Dietrich.

“It will cost us,” he answered with surprising candor. “We are now moving our tanks and troops at night to hide from the Americans and are still taking serious casualties. In order to get to the northern targets we will have to move during the day and the Americans will hurt us even more.”

“But can you do it?” Himmler insisted, his voice rising. “Can you get your army to the Bonn-Remagen area and attack through to the Rhine? Can your army isolate the Amis before they become too strong? Can you cut them off and defeat them and force them to surrender?”

Dietrich looked like a man who’d just been offered a cup of poison. His reserve army had several thousand superb tanks, but the infantry was suspect, even though Volkssturm units had been reinforced by the remnants of SS divisions culled from the Russian front when the Soviets had stood down.

Before Dietrich could answer, Rundstedt turned to Himmler. “You have three divisions of SS in Berlin doing little more than standing around with their thumbs up their asses. I submit that they should be attached to Field Marshal Dietrich’s army to help make up for losses and to stiffen the spine of the Volkssturm.”

“But those forces are to maintain security in Berlin,” Himmler said in what was almost a lament. Varner was shocked by the pain in Himmler’s voice.

“Reichsfuhrer,” Rundstedt said coldly. “If the Reserve Army is defeated, then there will be no need for security in Berlin as the Reich will have been destroyed and we will all be fugitives. Berlin is not now directly threatened and won’t be if we win. If we lose, it won’t much matter. You have garrison troops, remnants of Luftwaffe units, Volkssturm, and even some naval units who can be used to secure the city. Three full divisions of SS troops could turn the tide of battle.”

“I could use them,” Dietrich said so softly that Varner almost felt sorry for the man.

“Then take them,” Himmler snapped, “and for God’s sake, win with them.”

* * *

Jessica was slumped over her desk in near despair. The rumbling sounds of battle could be heard in the distance and all she could think of was Jack. Was he safe? Was he involved at all in the battle? She thought she would be ill. Occasionally, thoughts of Jeb and Levin and the others she’d met intruded. She’d never realized how awful it was to have loved ones in harm’s way. She didn’t think she had the strength to go on, but what choice did she have? How did wives and mothers do it back home while awaiting news? The answer was simple—they endured their agony because they had to. There was no other choice.

At least there were no people wanting news of loved ones waiting for her to tell them that there was nothing she could say. With the battle raging, everybody seemed to have other things to do. It was as if everyone understood that nothing was going to be done until the fighting ceased.

The door to her office opened and Hilda came in, smiled tentatively, and took a seat. She took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

“I assume you’re going to tell me Jeb’s the father.”

“Yes, and I will also tell you we’re married. A minister outside of Rheinbach performed the ceremony after I found out. The American army won’t like it, but there’s nothing they can do.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Hilda started to shake. “I hoped you would congratulate us. I know what you think, that I’m an opportunist whore who hunted for an American to get me out of here, and that’s not true. Jeb and I love each other. And I didn’t chase him. He came up to me on the street and introduced himself.”

Hilda had started to cry. So much for Teutonic reserve, Jessica thought. She handed the young woman a Kleenex from the box on her desk.

“Jessica, once upon a time I was a devoted little Nazi. I told you that. We were so happy when Hitler stopped the civil war and the economic disasters, and brought pride to being a German. We were dismayed when he had us invade Poland and France, but we felt it was all right if Hitler said it was necessary. I had a good friend, a lover, who was killed in Poland. I had a brother who was killed in France. We grieved but thought Hitler would soon stop and all would be better, even though we would have paid a terrible price. But then he invaded Russia and later declared war on the United States and my family and I realized it would never stop until Hitler died. Now he’s dead and the fighting still goes on. Will it ever stop?”

There was nothing Jessica could say. She stood up and walked around the desk. Hilda stood and the two women embraced.

* * *

Colonel Tom Granville took the slip of paper from the solemn-faced young lieutenant who saluted and left as quickly as he could. Jeez, thought Granville, do I have that nasty a reputation? Or is it Beetle Smith?

He read the message, smiled, and walked into Smith’s office. The general looked up and grimaced. “Hitler still dead?”

“Yes.”

“Then why the hell are you bothering me?”

“Take a look at this, sir,” Granville said as he held out the note.

Smith read quickly. “How reliable is your source?”

“Very.”

Granville reminded Smith that he had been operating his own intelligence service and getting information from behind the German lines from a number of sources. Some were individuals who were heartily sick of the war and the brutality of the Nazi system, while others were simply hoping to save their asses if the Americans won, all the while hoping their betrayals would go undiscovered by the Gestapo. They were walking a fine line and one stumble could mean a horrible death.

He didn’t care about their motives, only that their information was accurate.

“Refresh me,” said Smith. “Who the hell is he?”

“His code-name is Crow, and he picked it out himself. Easier to remember that way. He’s a field grade German officer whose information heretofore had been limited to tactical issues such as unit locations, defensive strengths and location, and similar stuff. This is the first time he’s provided anything even remotely this big.”

“Do you know his real name?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell me?”

Tom smiled tightly. “When the war’s over, General.”

“Prick,” Smith said amiably. He fully understood that he didn’t have a need to know. “So this Crow makes contact with someone else who is higher up in the Nazi hierarchy who decides to let Crow in on a very important secret right out of the blue.”

“There may be more to it than that. I suspect a long-standing personal relationship, but we won’t know until later, if at all.”

The general stroked his chin. “So Crow is reliable and, therefore, you believe this new character he code-named Cardinal is on the up and up as well.”

“Sir, I believe Crow and Crow believes Cardinal. Crow explains how Cardinal got the information and it seems plausible.”

“A lot of people said the Japs wouldn’t attack Pearl Harbor and everyone thought that was plausible, too. Tom, do you believe in this enough to forward it up to Ike and then across the water to Marshall and Truman?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well then,” said Smith, “let’s do just that.”

* * *

Truman entered the Map Room, took a seat and lit up a cigarette. “What is it this time, gentlemen, good news or bad news?”

“A little bit of both is in order,” said General Marshall. “First, we have confirmed that the Nazis only had one bomb and do not have the resources to build another. This has come from Ultra intercepts as well as reports from people on the ground who have spoken to key members of Himmler’s staff. They also say that neither Heisenberg nor Skorzeny has yet emerged from Russia and are probably dead.”

“No loss,” Truman said. “Too bad Himmler’s not dead as well. Now, what about Russia?”

Secretary of State Stettinius responded. “It does appear that Marshal Zhukov has taken over, at least temporarily. He’s announced that a new prime minister will be elected shortly. However, ‘temporarily’ under those circumstances could stretch out into decades. Some of my analysts think Zhukov could be nominated and thus become the permanent head of state.”