Impossible Nazi

by Ward Wagher

  “I needed to get out of the Chancellery for a bit,” Schloss replied, wondering if he could wash his hands after touching Goering. “Since we had scheduled a meeting, I thought, why not?”

  “I received the agenda Kirche sent over by courier. I am ready to begin whenever you are.”

  “Very well,” Schloss said as he eased into the chair across from Goering’s massive desk.

  While not built to the massive scale of his office in the Reich Chancellery, Goering worked out of an ornate, heavily decorated room. His chair looked like a throne. Schloss, once again, considered Goering’s pretentiousness. It was so much at odds with the self-effacing manner the portly man showed when around his troops.

  “How have you been, Hermann?” Schloss asked.

  “I am well, Herr Schloss. I have stayed away from the drugs. I feel better than I have in years.”

  “Good. We need to keep you well.”

  “I understand what you are saying, Herr Reich Chancellor,” Goering said. “I have instructed some of my most trusted people to help me avoid the morphine. I promise you I will stay away from it.”

  Schloss stared at him until he became uncomfortable. “See to it that you do, Hermann. We need you.”

  Goering cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.”

  “Now,” Schloss continued, “what is the status of our jet aircraft?”

  “We have constructed twenty-four of the Messerschmitt Swallow; two squadrons. We have begun operational testing. So far things have gone well.”

  “Is the airplane suitable for combat?” Schloss asked.

  “Yes. I have initiated orders to equip eight squadrons, plus several spare aircraft. Willi Messerschmitt has begun design work on a second version. This would be the fighter-bomber version.”

  “The what?” Schloss asked sharply.

  “The Führer had ordered a group of the aircraft be converted to a bombing role. I had simply continued that plan.”

  I had forgotten about that, Schloss thought to himself. The Swallow was, or is the best fighter of the war. The bomber version was too slow. I should have thought about this.

  Schloss bit on the tip of his thumb, apparently in thought. “Okay, Hermann, tell Willi to cancel the bomber. Let’s get the fighter into series production as soon as possible. I would like to have at least five-hundred of the things in service before we consider other possibilities with it.

  “Of course,” Herr Reich Chancellor, “I will commit to the production immediately.”

  “But, as soon as you start getting information from the early operational sorties, Willi needs to be thinking about those quick little changes that will improve the airplane. He needs to start thinking about a second series, a “B” model. Are Junkers and BMW working on follow-on engines? We need a second generation of engines that are not only much more powerful, but also more reliable and economical.”

  Goering scribbled notes with his fountain pen as Schloss talked. A look of amazement crept across his face.

  “Once again, I do not understand how you can be so confident, Herr Schloss. But, you are always right.”

  “I will not always be right,” Schloss said, thinking about how much of this new history he was creating was so unfamiliar. “But, I have a good feel in this case. The aircraft has performed well initially. If it had any serious vices, we would know about it by now.”

  “That is true,” Goering replied. “Very well. I will tell Messerschmitt to plan on five-hundred units, initially. Do you want to replace any of the current fleet?”

  “How much life does the Bf109 have in it?”

  Goering shrugged. “It does well against the English Hurricane. But the English are starting to withdraw that aircraft from front-line service. They were using it for ground support in Egypt.”

  “Does that tell you something?” Schloss asked.

  “It does,” the Reichsmarshall replied. “We should consider withdrawing them from service. I hate to throw away perfectly good airplanes, though.”

  “Let’s give some to the Jews in Palestine,” Schloss said. “The Arabs are giving them fits. Having air cover would even up things a lot.”

  “A good idea,” Goering said. “I should have thought of that, myself.”

  Yes, you should have, Schloss thought. I should not be so unkind about Die Grosse Wurst. He does try very hard.

  “Do you have a place to store some of them as a reserve? Where they don’t deteriorate?”

  “I would have to look into that,” Goering replied. “The weather is not kind to aircraft we leave parked outside.”

  “Maybe someplace hot and dry, like Libya, perhaps,” Schloss said.

  “I shall look into that.”

  Goering looked down at his carbon-copied typewritten agenda. “Blohm and Vos will be launching the prototype of the new U-boat in September, Herr Schloss.”

  “That is very fast. Are we making a mistake by moving this quickly?”

  Goering leaned back with surprise washing across his face. “Herr Reich Chancellor, you are the one who insisted we move quickly on this.”

  Schloss grinned at him. “I did, didn’t I? We need the next generation of U-boats as soon as possible. I would just suggest that the testing proceed carefully. The penalty for a flaw is the deaths of many crewmen. Just between you and me, I would not want to be sitting on the bottom of the Elbe and no way to get to the surface.”

  “I understand completely, Herr Reich Chancellor,” Goering said with a shudder. “The men that go out in those boats are certain more courageous than I.”

  “I do not think I could force myself to ride in one, either,” Schloss admitted. “We have some very brave men serving the Fatherland.”

  “Indeed. Do you want any of Herr Schreiber’s people at the launch?”

  “That is a good question. I think I would like them to record the event, but we must keep it a secret for right now.” And, with Fat Hermann’s poor security, what do I want to bet the English know all about our new U-Boat design?

  “Very well, Herr Reich Chancellor, I will coordinate with the Propaganda Ministry on the launching. Will you plan to be present?”

  That is a very good question, Schloss thought to himself. Considering the security issues, I ought to stay far away from the launch. “Herr, Reichsmarshall, I probably should attend the launch of our new class of U-Boats. Please keep me informed when a schedule presents itself.”

  “I will do so.” Goering looked down at the prepared agenda. “You wished to discuss the situation in North Africa?”

  “Yes, I did,” Schloss replied. “I would like a brief summary of your ideas for our forces in North Africa now that the English have surrendered.”

  Goering looked nonplussed. He opened his mouth a couple of times but did not speak.

  “I can assume that this means you have given it no thought?” Schloss asked, picking up the thread.

  “Herr Reich Chancellor, General Rommel has been busy garrisoning the new territories and reorganizing after his victory. Things were going well, so I did not want to… distract him.”

  “Just like you did not have a plan in mind after the English blew up the Müngsten Bridge. I do not wish to blame you personally, Herr Reichsmarshall,” Because if I did, I would have to do something about it, “But, your people should be working on plans for these eventualities, and it is clear that they are not!”

  “Please, Herr Reich Chancellor, we are very busy here.” Goering’s hands were shaking.

  “And while I am thinking about it,” Schloss bored in for the kill, “you and I had discussed plans for reorganizing the Wehrmacht High Command. I don’t suppose you have anything to tell me about that, do you?”

  Goering looked around the room in panic. “The Forth Bridge,” he blurted out.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “The railroad bridge over the Firth of Forth. It is in Scotland. We think it would be an excellent target.”

  “Now, you have me completely
confused,” Schloss said, shaking his head. “You are telling me that we should attack this bridge in Scotland. We are doing this when we don’t want to kill English civilians.”

  “We time the attack so that would occur when there are no railroad trains scheduled,” Goering gabbled. “The loss of life would be small.”

  Schloss gazed at Goering. I really should not be baiting this moron. He is doing the best he is able. I can almost feel sorry for Hitler and his frustration at being surrounded by incompetence.

  “Since you have changed the subject, Hermann, how would you conduct the raid?”

  “We would stage out of Stavanger in Norway and time our arrival at daylight. We can do this.”

  “What is the distance?”

  “It is a little over six-hundred kilometers. That is within the range of our bombers.”

  “We really do not have any fighters that could provide coverage, then,” Schloss answered. “We had some minimal fighter coverage on the Scapa Flow raid. And, do you have any intelligence information on how that site is defended?”

  “We are studying this. It is still in the early stages. I was planning to speak to you about the idea soon.”

  “Very well,” Schloss responded. “You do that. Now… back to North Africa. How many troops do we need to retain in North Africa to garrison things?”

  “We ought to let the Italians do it,” Goering snapped. “They have hindered us more than they helped in the entire campaign.”

  “I want to make sure the German Army holds the area around Tripoli,” Schloss said. “It may be important.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Goering asked, now genuinely curious. He knew that the Reich Chancellor would often somehow develop unique and useful ideas.

  “I think I am going to send a team in to prospect for oil. I read somewhere, that people have suspected there are oilfields for several years. They do have significant amounts of gas in their water wells.”

  Now, Goering stared at Schloss. “How can you know this?”

  “I don’t know this,” Schloss said. “I am playing a hunch. If it pays off, it would be easier to transport oil from Tripoli than Baghdad.”

  “But, you have Ribbentrop in Baghdad.”

  “Correct. We know we can get oil there. I would like to have more than a single source.”

  “You continue to amaze me, Herr Reich Chancellor,” Goering commented. “Very well, you are correct. I have been negligent in preparing a plan to demobilize from North Africa. If you could tell me your goals for the area, I will form a planning committee.”

  “Goals?” Schloss said. “What do you think the goals should be, Herr Goering?”

  Goering started shaking again. “Why… why, we need to maintain the security of the territories, at a minimum. I suppose I would like to know whether you plan any further incursions into Africa?”

  “Very well. That is a fair question. It is possible we may want to drop a division into the Congo. That will take careful planning and development. Perhaps you might talk to Rommel, in confidence of course, and have him select a division for that operation. Let me correct myself; that potential operation. Then select the garrison troops. Bring the rest home. Leave as much of the work to the Italians as possible, but do not compromise the overall security of those territories.”

  “The Italians may object to the cost,” Goering responded.

  “They shouldn’t. They have historical interests in Libya. If you get resistance from them, let me know. I will talk to Ciano.”

  Goering scribbled notes as Schloss spoke. “That is very helpful, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  Schloss stood up. “Very well, Herr Reichsmarshall. If you will kindly look at the agenda as a list of items you must pay attention to, I will expect a report at next week’s meeting. If you encounter difficulties, please let me know.”

  Goering quickly stood up. “I will heed your instructions, Herr Reich Chancellor, and also investigate these other items on your agenda. I will not allow myself to be caught out like that again.”

  I really wish I could believe him. I do not think Schneller Heinz has the political clout for this job, even if he is a great soldier.

  “Thank you, Herr Goering. That is as much as I can ask of you, today. Thank you for giving me your valuable time.”

  Goering watched as the tall, ascetic-looking man strode from his office. He pursed his lips in a silent whistle. A few moments later, Goering’s adjutant walked in.

  “How did the meeting go, Herr Reichsmarshall?”

  “About as bad as it could have gone, Halder. But, come, we have a lot of work to accomplish before my next meeting with the Reich Chancellor.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  July 8, 1942; 1 PM

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  United States

  Henry Wallace sipped his coffee as he sat on the sofa in the Oval Office. He looked around at his military advisers and secretly despaired of surviving the war.

  “You are telling me that this is no big deal?” he snapped. The Japs sank several cruisers in the naval base in Bremerton and flattened a major factory in Seattle, and you do not seem terribly concerned about it.”

  “Mr. President,” the Secretary of War said, “Admiral Leahy was saying that in terms of damage, it was not as bad as it might have been. Most of the casualties were in Bremerton. Boeing evacuated the factory in time. And, it was just closing out production on the B-17. We built a little over five-hundred of the planes, and we do not need any more of them.”

  “But, you tell me we didn’t catch the Jap task force,” Wallace continued. “Explain that, please.”

  “They caught us with our pants down,” Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox said. “Again. I don’t want to make excuses for this, Mr. President.”

  “Thank you for your honesty, Secretary Knox. Perhaps you can explain to me exactly what happened, now that the fires are out.”

  Knox tilted his head in acknowledgment. “A carrier-based force of one-hundred-twenty planes staged a raid on Bremerton and Seattle. They focused on the navy yards and the Boeing plant. About forty of the attacking aircraft were shot down. As mentioned before, two cruisers and a destroyer were sunk at the piers. The Boeing factory is a complete write-off. The Navy patrol plane that initially encountered the force was shot down.”

  “Did anyone survive from the plane?” Wallace asked.

  “We are searching the area, but expect to find no survivors. Incidentally, Joe Kennedy’s son was the pilot.”

  “Thank you for the concise report, Secretary Knox,” Wallace said, looking around the room. “Now, I recognize I am the amateur in this area, Gentlemen, and you are the experts, but is it too much to expect a coherent report like the one Mr. Knox just gave?”

  He glared at the military men, and then glanced over at Truman. The Vice-President designate was glaring at them, too.

  Wallace sighed. “Very well. Secretary Knox, apparently there is a silver lining in this; although, I, for one, cannot perceive it.”

  “I would not call it a silver lining, Mr. President,” Knox explained. “However, the raid was not as devastating as it could have been.”

  “Pray, continue,” Wallace said.

  “Yes, Sir. The attacking force lost forty of its one-hundred-twenty aircraft. That was one-third of their force. That would be unacceptable for anybody. I regret we were unable to arrange any of our forces to intercept the Jap task force. I will be investigating the cause of that mistake. I accept responsibility for that, Mr. President.”

  Wallace made a throwing away motion with his hand. “And the factory.”

  “The Boeing factory had been producing the B-17E. We had made around five-hundred of the bombers and were wrapping up production. It is a good plane, but not what we need. We can use them to patrol off the coasts, but they do not have the range to attack anything the Japs hold. It is three-thousand miles from Alaska to Tokyo, and a B-17 could not make that on a one-way trip. It has
a two-thousand-mile range.”

  “What were our plans for the factory?” the president asked.

  “We were in discussions with Boeing about building the P-47 under contract. They have several designs for an ultra-long-range bomber they would like us to consider.”

  “And, we’re going to need something with intercontinental range for this war, too,” Wallace commented.

  “Yes, Sir. Right now, the question is moot. Boeing doesn’t have a factory. If they rebuild, we will require them to build it far enough inland as not to be threatened by carrier-based bombers.”

  “I will be glad to leave the decisions about the factory to the War Planning Board. I am delighted that we got our workers out of the plant before the raid.”

  “Somebody was thinking clearly,” Knox commented. “I am just glad the Japs didn’t decide to focus on southern California. They could really hurt us there.”

  Wallace looked around. “Was there anything else to report?”

  With a collection of No, Sirs, the men stood up.

  “Senator, if you would remain behind,” Wallace said.

  Wallace waited until they left and then turned to Truman. “Are these men as incompetent as they seem?”

  “No, Mr. President,” Truman immediately answered. “We are in a bad position vis-a-vis the Japanese, and no obvious solution presents itself. I believe we could do a better job of patrolling our western coast. I feel bad for Joe Kennedy losing a son like that, but those are the people we need out there spotting for us. It worked during their attack on the canal. They hurt us there, but we beat them up pretty good as well.”

  Wallace walked over and hitched his hip on the corner of the presidential desk, folding his arms. “And you are ready for your trip to Europe?”

  “I leave from here to fly to New York. I’ll take a Boeing flying boat from there to Lisbon. I’ve already said my goodbyes to Bess.”

  “Is there anything else we need to cover before you meet with Schloss?”

  “No. I appreciate your confidence in me, Mr. President.”