Impossible Nazi

by Ward Wagher

“It was after midnight. Everybody thinks that they were going after Schloss and got Wallace by mistake. They have… had a similar build. It was dark, and they were wearing the same color suits.”

  “Washington must be going ape,” Carper commented. “What are we going to do?”

  “In addition to how complicated things just got with the British, we have a constitutional crisis on top of that. Truman was never officially sworn in as Vice-President. The Congress was still talking about it.”

  “Sir,” Carper said, “I am way behind the curve here.”

  “And what I told you is classified as secret. Right now, my problem is helping Admiral Nimitz defend the West Coast. How soon can you be ready to put to sea again?”

  “Forty-eight hours, depending on how quickly we can refuel, rearm, and take care of the binnacle list.”

  “Any major problems?”

  “No, Sir, but one of the freshwater distillers has been acting up.”

  “Okay, Al, make it twenty-four hours, if possible. I need a line of steel out there, in case the Japs get frisky. Fleet Logistics knows what needs to be done, so you can expect them to give you every assistance. Get out there, as soon as you can.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir. By your leave?”

  “Yeah, Al. I’ll have the formal orders to you in a couple of hours. We’re still running around behind the curve here.”

  Carper stood up. “Thanks for seeing me, Admiral.”

  English stood up and shook Carper’s hand. “Just get out there, and stand in the gap, Commander. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m sure it won’t be good.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  September 23, 1942; 5 PM

  Reich Chancellor’s Apartments

  Reich Chancellery

  Berlin, Germany

  “It just never stops, does it, Darling?” Gisela asked as she drew back from Schloss.

  He had barely closed the door to the apartment when she was in his arms.

  “This was a stressful trip,” he confessed. “I knew it was going to be difficult, but this went beyond that. I would never have expected Churchill to do something like kill President Wallace.”

  She cocked her head and looked at him skeptically. “He wasn’t trying to kill the American president, was he?”

  “There was some discussion about that...”

  “Why are you not being straight with me, Hennie?” she interrupted.

  “We don’t know who the assassin was shooting at. A lot of people think he wanted to have me killed, and I am inclined to agree.”

  “Then, why don’t you just say so?”

  “Because I didn’t want to upset the most important person in my life,” he replied.

  “The most important person in your life is already upset,” she snapped. “And, I don’t like you playing games like this.”

  “Please, Gisela. The past few days have been rough. I really do not want to spend the evening fighting with you.”

  “Hennie, you might have been killed. What would I have done? What about the children? We must get into a position where things like this do not happen.” She had tears running down her face.

  “And that is what I am trying to do. You know what things were like before. Somebody must fix this country, and circumstances have elected me. You knew the risks when we got married.”

  “And I didn’t like it then. I do not like it now.”

  “Poppa, Poppa! You’re home.”

  They both looked as Anna-Lisa trotted into the foyer. Schloss swept her up in his arms and gave her a big hug.

  “And how is my favorite daughter this afternoon?”

  “I made something for you, Poppa,” she said shyly.

  “What did you make for me, Precious little one?”

  “It’s a ‘prise,” she said. “Can’t tell. I had to promise.”

  “When will I get to see it?” he asked.

  “Frau Marsden said I had to wait until supper to give it to you.”

  “Well, if Frau Marsden said to wait, who am I to gainsay that? I look forward to dinnertime. Where is your brother?”

  “He’s playing with his train set?”

  “His what?” Schloss asked in some surprise.

  Gisela slipped her arm into his and eased in closer. “Karl thought that Hans needed an electric train.”

  “Karl thought? And who bribed who?”

  Gisela now pealed her silver bells laugh. “Oh, I think it was mutual. I am not even sure who suggested it. Next thing I knew, a couple of Karl’s SS people were carrying it into the apartment.”

  Schloss chuckled. “I am going to have to speak with Karl. Stealing my son’s affection, is he?”

  “He considers them his children, as well,” she said.

  “That he does. And that accounts for the children. How have you been doing, Schatzi?”

  “I have been spending some time helping Renate,” she said. “She has been quite ill in the mornings, the past few days.”

  “Is that so? And, is she expecting?”

  “We are both sure of it,” Gisela replied. “Peter is going to have a big surprise.”

  “She hasn’t told him?”

  “She was planning to tell him tonight.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “Peter is going to have a big surprise. But, it will be good for him.”

  She elbowed him. “Lout!”

  “I suppose I am going to have to see this train set my son has acquired. Hopefully, it is not on the scale of Hermann’s toys.”

  “Nothing that grandiose, I can assure you.”

  They walked deeper into the apartment together, arm in arm. Anna-Lisa was still in his other arm and nestled against him. He marveled again at the contentment he experienced whenever he came home. He counted himself immensely fortunate to have met and married Gisela. Basking in the love of the children was special as well. The mood was shattered, however, when Frau Marsden rumbled into the room.

  “Home at last, I see,” she growled. “I hope your experiences in Lisbon have taught you more caution.”

  “Hello, Frau Marsden,” he replied. “I’m glad to see you too. Nothing like a little adventure to keep one’s blood pumping.”

  “Hush,” Gisela said, as she elbowed him again. “You’re not amusing.”

  “Actually, Frau Marsden, I came home hugely disappointed. The death of the American president was a terrible shock. And, coming home without an agreement with the English was a bad thing, too.”

  “The cease-fire seems to be holding,” Gisela said.

  “For the moment. Goodness knows what Churchill is going to do next.”

  “I understand he was responsible for the death of President Wallace,” Frau Marsden said.

  He studied her carefully. Now, what is the old lady trying to tell me? he wondered.

  “It was an English team who pulled the trigger,” he offered.

  “Come now, Herr Schloss, something like that would not have happened without Herr Churchill’s express permission. It is very likely he initiated the action. And it wasn’t the American president he was after.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Frau Marsden.”

  “Sometimes you do not seem to pay attention,” she responded.

  “I can assure you I pay close attention to my business. And do you not have a dinner to prepare?”

  I should not get snippy with her. She has my best interests at heart. But, it also has been a long day, and a long week. God knows what we are going to do about the English.

  Frau Marsden turned with a pronounced harrumph and rumbled out of the room. He looked over to see Gisela grinning at him.

  “What?”

  “She always seems to do that to you, Darling.”

  “And someday she is going to go too far.”

  She said nothing further but merely squeezed his arm. He set his daughter down so she could trot out of the room on her next quest. The little girl never moved at a walk. He disengaged
from Gisela and walked down the short hallway to Hans-Friedrich’s room.

  The floor was given over to the train set the boy had received from Karl Rainer. Schloss concluded it was not as grandiose as the set Goering had built at Karinhall. Not quite.

  “Poppa!” Hans shout as he jumped up and ran to his father.

  “It looks as though Uncle Karl has been spoiling you,” Schloss said severely.

  “Oh, no, Poppa. It is wonderful. This has been so much fun.”

  “And are you keeping up with your studies, then?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes, Sir. Mutti Gisela has made me attend my studies. I am doing well.”

  “Well, I suppose since things are going well, I won’t make Uncle Karl come and take the trains back.”

  “Oh, Poppa!” Hans had a very old-fashioned look on his face.

  The boy brightened again. “It is good you are back from Lisbon. I missed you.”

  “Believe me, Hans, it is good to be back. It has been a difficult week.”

  “Frau Marsden told us about President Wallace. That is very sad.”

  “Yes, it is,” Schloss replied. “I was shocked.”

  “Why would Herr Churchill do such a thing?” the little boy asked.

  “That is a very good question, Hans,” Schloss replied, shaking his head. “It makes things more difficult.”

  “Why does he not want to have peace with Germany?”

  “You are asking good questions, Hans. We are asking the same questions. Unfortunately, we do not have an answer.”

  § § §

  September 23, 1942; 5:30 PM

  Over the Mediterranean Sea

  David Ben Gurion looked out the window of the Fiat Trimotor as it cruised over the Mediterranean at three-thousand meters.

  “It gets kind of lonely out here with no land in sight,” he said.

  Otto Skorzeny leaned over to look out the window. “True. But, nobody is shooting at us, either.”

  “You don’t seem to be bothered by people shooting at you.”

  “Oh? Actually, it terrifies me,” Skorzeny confessed.

  “Is that so? You don’t show it. You go about your business, in spite of the bullets flying.”

  “It doesn’t do for the workaday soldiers to see their officers putting brown stains in their uniform trousers.”

  Ben Gurion laughed. “That is one way of putting it, I suppose. Despite the uncivilized ways of the British, I do appreciate their stiff upper lip.”

  “Whatever else one may say about them, there is nothing wrong with their courage,” Skorzeny commented. “This string of events in Lisbon, however...” he shook his head. “That was somewhat over the top, even for the British.”

  “Yes, and that leaves me a bit confused. It was uncharacteristic of them to be this direct. Historically, they have been masters of subtlety. I don’t doubt for a minute this was a British operation. I think they were aiming at Schloss and got the wrong target by mistake.”

  “And, what a mistake!” Skorzeny exclaimed. “Being in this business, you understand, one hears stories about operations going cross-ways. But this tops every story I’ve heard.”

  Ben Gurion chuckled sourly. “I must state for the record that I am glad to have Herr Schloss alive and well. But, to kill the American president? I cannot even imagine what the tea leaves will look like?”

  Skorzeny looked at the Judaean president curiously.

  “It is just this, Otto, my friend: we Jews have learned a considerable degree of self-reliance over the centuries. In the long term, we are nobodies’ friends. To have a global power like Germany behind us is enormously advantageous in the short term. Oh, I think we would have established the nation within another ten years anyway. But, the Germans place no conditions on what we might do. We are in a far, far better situation than we might have been.”

  “Even if the Arab League wants to bomb you into oblivion and salt the earth,” Skorzeny responded.

  “Oh, I think that would have been the case anyway. The Palestinians and the Arabs are not entirely rational where the western side of the Jordan is concerned. Unfortunately, we did not help things when we blew up the Dome of the Rock.”

  “What are you going to do about that?” the German mercenary asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Our ultra-orthodox are determined to build another temple. The Moslems are determined to rebuild the dome. Meanwhile, we are fighting for our lives against a multitude of enemies. I think the historians will eventually suggest a compromise which will put both a temple and mosque on the mount.”

  “Can you imagine how that will turn out?”

  Ben Gurion laughed. “It would be an ongoing slaughter. And our people are as bad as the Moslems.”

  “What are your plans?” Skorzeny asked.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Otto, but we are building a nation. Plans? I have dozens of them. My immediate goal is to build something that no one in the region will dare touch. We have defensible borders. Thanks to our German benefactor, we have a wealth of military equipment. Most of it is not first-line, but it is better than what anybody else in the region has.”

  The conversation subsided as the plane began its descent to Tel Aviv. A flight of five bf109 fighters with the Star of David emblazoned on the wings and fuselage arrived to escort them to the airport.

  “The people must think highly enough of you to send an escort,” Skorzeny commented.

  “Either that, or there is a security issue close by. The Jews are too practical to think highly of people. They will keep me around as long as I keep delivering for them.”

  Skorzeny smiled at the little man. “I somehow think that it is more than that. They have started calling you Father David.”

  “Yes, and they are calling you Rav Otto,” Ben Gurion laughed. “Do you take that seriously?”

  Skorzeny snorted. “It has become a clever conceit for me. A few myths can do wonders for one’s leadership.”

  Ben Gurion guffawed. “You have the right of it, my friend. I have not been spreading myths, but perhaps my friends have. If it helps my leadership, so much the better. When I am dead and gone, I won’t be bothered in the least by what they call me.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  September 23, 1942; 10 AM

  Prime Minister’s Office

  10 Downing Street

  London, England, UK

  A stench of death hovered over the government of Winston Churchill. The great man sat in his office and pondered his next steps. Ten minutes earlier Clement Attlee had informed the prime minister that he had to regretfully withdraw from the government. Churchill knew at that point that the rest of the members of the labor party in the cabinet would resign, probably before the end of the day. Well, he had thrown the dice and lost.

  The Portuguese government had not officially announced the arrest of the British team, but everyone knew. And, everyone knew whose bidding sent the Baker Street Boys on their missions. The death of the American president would be laid squarely at the feet of Winston Churchill. It was not the result he expected; however, he had avoided a badly arranged peace with Germany. He would next need to make an appointment to deliver his resignation to the queen, but he decided he would take some time to enjoy his last day in this office. After all, this was probably the last time he would be invited anywhere near the seat of government.

  He stepped over to a side table and poured a generous measure of whiskey into a squat tumbler. Today he would not follow his custom of just pouring a dash of whiskey and filling the rest with water. He carried it back to his desk. He carefully clipped a cigar and lighted it. After a couple of generous puffs, he took a drink of the whiskey. He thought it was very good. The morning sun threw pleasant shafts of light into the office, and dust motes danced on the smallest of breezes. If he were to leave office, this would be a nice day to do it.

  He jumped when the door to the office opened suddenly and banged against the stop. He quickly jumped to his feet when Queen Margaret
stormed through the opening, leaving a helpless looking secretary behind her.

  “Your Majesty, this is quite a departure from custom,” Churchill said.

  She quickly walked the length of the office to where she stood across the desk from him. She stuck an index finger in his face.

  “You will kindly shut your mouth, Prime Minister until I am through saying what I must. Then, I may allow you to speak.”

  “But, this is highly irregular...”

  “Shut. Your. Mouth!”

  The queen had a reputation for being hot-tempered. In fact, he had seen flashes of it over the past year after she had assumed the throne. This was clearly beyond that, and for once Churchill did not know what to do.

  “Did I or did I not suggest that it would be in everyone’s best interest to make peace with the Germans? Apparently, you did not care to heed the royal suggestion, and unfortunately, you have the privilege. But, what in God’s name did you think you were doing by sending a team of assassins into Lisbon. We have had a treaty with them for six-hundred-years, Prime Minister, and we are obliged to walk lightly when we visit.”

  “And did you stop to think about the consequences of a mistake, considering that this was a mistake. Surely, you did not intend to shoot and kill the President of the United States. I can only hope your instructions were to kill the Reich Chancellor.”

  “Your Majesty, I...”

  “Well, what were your instructions?”

  “Your Majesty, it apparently was a rogue group that tried to force the agenda.” He was starting to get his feet under him again. Perhaps he could salvage something.

  “Indeed, it was a rogue group working for a rogue prime minister,” she shouted. “Do not lie to me. You have never been very good at it. Do you even realize what you have done?”

  “I believe you are exceeding your authority, Your Majesty,” Churchill said, trying to speak calmly. “To come in here and try to give me orders has grave constitutional implications.”

  “Constitutional crisis be damned,” she shouted. “And be damned to you! I am not leaving here until I have your resignation. Attlee has pulled out, which means the rest of labor is pulling out. The rest of your party will turn upon you. You are mortally wounded, Prime Minister. Do not try to deny it.”