Fox at the Front (Fox on the Rhine)

by Douglas Niles

  As Eisenhower approached, Spiedel slipped directly into heavily accented English. “Good evening, General,” he said, reaching out his hand. “Forgive me. I haven’t been a civilian in a long time, and my hand wants to go into an automatic salute.”

  Eisenhower laughed. “It’s hard to make the adjustment, I know.”

  The room was filling up with the big brass: Eisenhower and Bradley, Goerdeler and Spiedel, Patton, and a smattering of colonels—Sanger himself, Müller, and von Reinhardt. The civilians wore suits, the American officers wore their pinks-and-greens, and the German officers still wore Wehrmacht dress uniforms, omitting only decorations and insignia containing the swastika. They hadn’t had time to make new uniforms; the only evidence of their new affiliations were armbands with the letters DDR, for Deutsche Demokratische Republik, the provisional name of the new government.

  Von Reinhardt was sitting while the rest of them stood; his face was stretched and pale and he was obviously in some discomfort. The cigarette smoke was already thick, and it was irritating the wounded man’s injured lungs. Müller had arranged coffee and a small assortment of cakes, but was the only one who had helped himself to something to eat. The others drank only coffee or did without.

  Only the guest of honor—Rommel himself—was missing. As Sanger maneuvered himself into a good position to watch the proceedings, he tried to figure out what was going on. Goerdeler wouldn’t object if Rommel took himself out of the picture altogether, as long as he got to appoint his successor. Spiedel was weaving a spiderweb of control, manipulating everyone, including Rommel himself.

  Eisenhower was full of bonhomie, but his babyish face and open manner masked a subtle and powerful intelligence. Patton was telling an off-color story to Bradley and laughing uproariously at his own punch lines. He had the edginess of someone who expected the current process to be a waste of his time. Bradley’s body language was reserved. Sanger wondered if Patton knew how much he put others into a defensive mode and how much that tended to cost him—if Patton did understand, it was clear he didn’t care. Müller, the supply officer, looked awkward and out of place. He had filled his cup of coffee too close to the brim and some had fallen on his tunic. There were other food spots there, too.

  Aside from the pain clearly evident on von Reinhardt’s face, the intelligence-officer-turned-diplomat seemed pulled into himself, watching. Sanger had the feeling that von Reinhardt had a few cards to play, and was waiting for an opportunity.

  “Good evening, gentlemen. Are you waiting for me?”

  The voice at the door was sharp and penetrating, although not particularly loud. It was a “general’s voice,” the tone of command that all leaders need but not all leaders have. It drew everyone’s attention to the door.

  The Desert Fox stood framed in the opening, his face solemn, left eye covered with a fresh bandage, the marks of battle scars and wounds clear. His uniform was unadorned, without medals or rank insignia; it was dirty from manual labor.

  Chancellor Goerdeler, as the technically highest-ranking member of the group, tried to open. “How are you doing, Generalfeldmarschall? We’re all quite concerned …”

  Rommel moved forward abruptly. “You’re all concerned that I seem to be fighting the wrong war in the wrong way. Correct? You find my working here, trying to save these prisoners who have been savaged by our own fatherland, to be wasteful when I could be out adding to the death toll of this war.” He gathered in the room with his remaining good eye. “I have just learned from my American doctor that I have become blind in one eye from the wounds I sustained last summer, exacerbated by infections and dirt from our current surroundings. My scholarly friend von Reinhardt reminded me that an eye is the traditional price one pays for wisdom, for that is what the god Odin paid for his.”

  Von Reinhardt nodded solemly at this. He was a strange bird, thought Sanger—an intelligence officer who thought that his business was actually intelligence. Not many military officers would think to give their commanders lectures on Norse mythology.

  “I don’t know whether I have gained wisdom, but I do know that I see what has happened here in a new light. I’m sure many of my countrymen will want to say that this was not us, but rather the doing of our Nazi masters. That is not sufficient. We are Germans and patriots, and therefore this belongs to us. This camp, and the others we have not yet found, is German property, not merely Nazi property, for the difference is one fit only for lawyers. There is no cause, no work in Germany today more important than this, because our honor is the only true value a people can have. Ours is here, in the dirt, and must be reclaimed from the dirt.”

  It was Patton—indeed, it had to be Patton, Sanger thought—who interrupted Rommel’s speech. Patton was the only major Allied officer who had come to the camp but who had not done some KP duty. “Hold on just a goddamned minute, Rommel. I agree with you that this is a pretty fucking awful mess, and that you Germans have responsibility for cleaning this up. But you can’t just forget the lines of Soviet bastards rolling westward. If you just swap Nazis for Commies, you haven’t made things better. And if you think your buddies mistreat prisoners, just wait until that son of a bitch Stalin starts in. He’ll give Buchenwald a run for its money in the competition to be Hell on earth.”

  “Now, just a minute, Georgie,” interjected Bradley. “I think we ought to hear Rommel out before we …”

  “Brad, we’re here to lay it out in black-and-white for Rommel, and I don’t think he’s the sort of man who likes people to pussyfoot around. What do you say, Rommel? Do you want it straight, or do you want it political?” The unstoppable force paused for a minute. Sanger noticed that Rommel was having trouble controlling a smile.

  “General Patton,” Rommel said in his most formal voice, which sounded odd in contrast to his dirty clothing, “I always prefer straight talk from men I respect. I am just as aware as you of the threat the Soviet Union poses. In fact, I have more intimate knowledge of them because so many of my colleagues in the armed forces of the Reich have been doing battle in the East for years. And I am mindful of what you are saying. But what we have here is unprecedented. War, as we all know, is often terrible, and the suffering of innocents is not unusual. That is why we have laws and customs of war, to lessen its savagery. What we see around us is not only horrific and inhumane, but also criminal. That crime must be expiated.”

  Eisenhower stepped forward, as if to separate the two men. “Field Marshal Rommel, I completely agree with you about the ethical and legal issues here. This matter demands our deepest concern. But we are officers in a military organization trying to prosecute a just war and bring it to an honorable finish. We have doctors, investigators, social-service teams, and many other resources available to help with this situation. This assignment is important, but it isn’t a task calling for the full capabilities of the man who commanded Army Group Africa. We can find capable people for this work. If you’ll forgive me for saying so, we can find people more capable than you—or I. It is not your job.”

  Rommel gave a short military bow, acknowledging Eisenhower’s speech. “In fact, most of the logistical work is already being ably handled by Colonel Müller.” The pudgy colonel reddened. “You’re right that much of the work can be done by others, and that others may be able to do it better. But there is one job that I’m afraid only I can do.”

  The pause grew in length, until Eisenhower felt compelled to ask, “And what is that job, Field Marshal? Manual laborer?”

  “Exactly, General Eisenhower.” He stood, waiting. The pause grew longer again.

  “Manual fucking laborer!” Patton could no longer contain himself. “So you’ve decided to wallow in shit and claim you’re on a moral high horse, when your failure to command your troops is condemning your countrymen to Soviet slavery? God damn it, Rommel! If you want to tear your shirt and wear sackcloth and ashes, then I suggest you get the fucking hell out of my way and I’ll go fight the Russians for you. Jeezus!” He threw up his arms in melodra
matic disgust.

  “Put a sock in it, George,” said Eisenhower with deceptive mildness. Bradley added the force of a restraining hand on Patton’s arm.

  “Perhaps another German can best speak to this,” interjected Goerdeler. “You see, Herr Generalfeldmarschall, those of us in the resistance are as horrified by the evil we see all around us as you are, but we are less surprised, because we have known about this for years. You were in North Africa, carrying on warfare in a manner consistent with German honor, and because you are an honorable man, you tend to assume that honor is a common characteristic. I’m afraid that isn’t true. You yourself finally reached the point where your soldier’s oath to the führer had to be set aside because of your deeper loyalty to the German people and to humanity.

  “Our good name as Germans has been befouled with mass murder, and the worst crimes have not yet been exposed to the light of day. The extermination of Jews and others continues even as we speak, and military action is needed—now. There will come time for acts of contrition. But this madness must be ended, and quickly. We need the Desert Fox to return to his station at the head of the free German military, to liberate this nation from Nazi domination, and to stop this madness.”

  Rommel bowed in acknowledgment. “Herr Chancellor, when I took on these new responsibilities for the provisional government, it was my deepest hope and prayer that I would be able to get Germans to lay down their arms, to switch sides, to bring an end to the Third Reich with as few additional casualties as possible. Now you are asking me to wage the cruelest sort of war on my own people, for the leaders of the Reich well understand that there is no longer any surrender to be had now that this crime has been revealed. How can I do this? Hans,” he said, turning to Spiedel, “what do you think I should do?”

  Spiedel looked down at the floor. “Erwin,” he said quietly, “you are my field marshal, and I will be with you whatever you choose. If it is war against our own, I will stand with you, or if you want me to go back into the camp and continue to perform manual labor at your side, I will stand with you there as well.”

  “Of all the pansy-ass bullshit I’ve ever heard, this takes the cake!” Patton could no longer contain himself. “Do you think for one minute that any of the sadistic bastards who built these camps shed one tear or had one minute of conscience over what they did? So instead of tracking these bastards down and putting a personal bullet through their miserable fucking heads, you’re going to stick your heads in the sand and be oh-so-noble? You’re a soldier, goddamn it, not a fucking pussy! So as one soldier to another, it’s time to suck it up and get back on the fucking goddamned horse! Jesus Christ!” Patton looked heavenward, as if he was looking for immediate confirmation from above.

  “Dammit, George, I said to put a sock in it,” growled Eisenhower. “Field Marshal, I appreciate your dilemma, but I must tell you that General Patton has an important point, even when put in somewhat less than diplomatic language. We can certainly prosecute the end of this war without you and your army group, but for a variety of reasons I’m sure you understand, it would be far better to continue with the plan that’s got us this far.”

  The Desert Fox surveyed the group in front of him. His one good eye was sharp and clear, and Sanger noticed that he did not seem fazed by the opposition in front of him. “All of you, I think, view the events here and at the other camps as quite serious, but something less than world-shaking. I, on the other hand, believe we have entered an entirely new world with evil on a scale not heretofore seen. Because this is unprecedented, the appropriateness of normal behavior is subject to rethinking. I am not convinced that what seems obvious is necessarily correct. Sanger, you have worked with me these past few days. What is your opinion?”

  Sanger was surprised to see himself called upon in this company; he had expected to be confined to the role of observer, a role that suited him fine. “Sir, I will be fighting this particular war for the rest of my life, in whatever role I can get.” The confidence in his own voice surprised himself.

  “Thank you, Sanger,” Rommel answered. “And you, Oberst von Reinhardt? I suppose you have a quote for us?” Sanger could see that most of the room hoped von Reinhardt would have the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

  But the sharp-faced diplomat was ready. “As you know, Generalfeldmarschall, I have been engaged in private negotiations with Führer Himmler in hopes of achieving a surrender.” This surprised several of the Americans in the room, although Sanger had figured it out some time ago. It was, after all, only logical. “The price of personal safety and freedom that he asked for himself seemed to me to be in the best interests of everyone. That was until I saw this camp. And, yes, sir, I do have a quote for you.”

  Sanger found the young aristocrat hard to read. Von Reinhardt was a lateral thinker, and those were difficult to predict. He kept his fingers crossed that von Reinhardt would say the right thing.

  Von Reinhardt looked directly at the Desert Fox as he spoke slowly, enunciating clearly, as the various translators whispered into the ears of their principals. “The quote is this: ‘If God wills that this war continue until every drop of blood drawn by the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said, “The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.”’”

  Sanger well remembered the words of Lincoln’s Second Inaugural. On a family vacation trip from New Jersey to Washington, DC, he had stood inside the Lincoln Memorial and read those same words chiseled into the wall. He was not surprised that some of the German faces looked puzzled, but he was surprised that a few American faces were blank as well. And Sanger seemed to be the only one who noticed that by comparing the concentration camps to American slavery, von Reinhardt was giving a backhanded slap to the Americans.

  “‘Until every drop of blood drawn by the lash shall be paid by another drawn by the sword …’ I see.” Rommel stood in thought for a moment, but Sanger could see in his posture that the battle-scarred soldier had made up his mind.

  “Very well,” the Desert Fox announced. “We will turn responsibility for these victims over to the authorities best suited to assist them, and take up the sword once again. We will wage this necessary war so that the German people can engage in the serious business of resolving this horrific matter. There will be a high price to pay for these crimes, a price that the German people as a whole must shoulder. There is no forgiveness and there is no expiation, but there is the opportunity to work.” It was then that Sanger realized who Rommel had been really talking to in the furnace room.

  “The time for battle is upon us.”

  As the various attendees came forward in turn to shake Rommel’s hand and welcome his return to command, Sanger noticed von Reinhardt pull himself slowly and painfully from his seat and head, unnoticed by anyone else, for the door.

  EXCERPT FROM WAR’S FINAL FURY, BY PROFESSOR JARED GRUENWALD

  The extent of what subsequently became known as the Holocaust was not revealed all at the same time. The liberation of the Buchenwald and Dachau concentration camps created shock around the world. Unfortunately, the majority of the death camps, including Auschwitz/Birkenau, the largest, were located in Poland. As a result, it was the Soviet Union, rather than the Western Allies, who first discovered the full scale of the atrocities.

  This meant that acknowledgment of the Holocaust got caught up in the politics of anti-Communism, and from there came the phenomenon known as “Holocaust Denial.” All those facts that came from behind Soviet lines were dismissed as propaganda designed to legitimize the Soviet advance. Difficulties in getting fully independent observers to the sites, the time delays involved, and the various concealment activities practiced by the Nazis themselves as part of Operation Wolkenbrand, all created enough muddiness in the data to allow those with a political interest in denial of the Holocaust to argue that it was not “proven” sufficiently.

  Of course, all those with understanding of how the process of
history works know that muddiness at the detail level is the common experience of all history, and that minor discrepancies in the historical record are not in themselves sufficient to disprove the larger picture.

  The critical days in February of 1945 spent by Rommel in the Buchenwald camp had an immense impact on Germany’s postwar destiny, and on the postwar shape of the world itself. Some of the ripples of that period showed up mere days later … .

  OPERATION ECLIPSE

  7–31 MARCH 1945

  War has seldom brought anything for any of the people engaged in it. But the people aren’t usually asked. Once war has begun, you go on fighting simply to get the best you can out of it. But what when there is no more to be got? Then it’s better to stop it at once. And that, you see, is our position today, except we are fighting an enemy in the East before whom there can be no surrender. There it’s a matter of fighting for our lives, and that complicates the issue. What we should do now is to see to it that our Western enemies occupy the whole of Central Europe and keep the Russians outside our borders.

  —Field Marshal Erwin Rommel

  August 1944

  7 MARCH 1945

  HEADQUARTERS, SIXTH PANZER ARMY, MAGDEBURG, GERMANY, 0625 HOURS GMT

  The autobahn was a marvelous road, parallel strips of asphalt rippling smoothly across the countryside. Departing from Berlin via Potsdam, the road arched across a long bridge, spanning one of the city’s broad lakes, before rolling through hill and forest toward the Elbe. The highway system was another of Hitler’s innovations, one of the things that had offered such promise of a greater Germany as the Nazi party bore the nation into the future. Wide and smooth, graded through the steep hills, with multiple lanes in both directions, the autobahn had been a key factor for the movement of armies and supplies throughout the country.