Ike lit a cigarette and drew slowly. It gave him a moment to think. “And now you’re wondering just what I can do to speed up the demise of Nazi Germany. In particular, can it be done in time for us to assist in the invasion of Japan?”
“Precisely. General Marshall wanted me to remind you that invading Japan will require much of your army and will also need to divert supplies to the Pacific theater. The invasion of the home island of Kyushu is scheduled for October of this year and is called Operation Olympic. Operation Coronet, the invasion of Honshu and the attack on Tokyo is planned for about six months later. The army is scraping the bottom of the barrel and drafting men who were rejected just a few months ago. We cannot sustain your army as well as the large force that will be needed to invade Japan.”
“Mr. Acheson, are you aware that Herr Goebbels is en route to this Alpine Redoubt?”
The normally poised Acheson showed his surprise. “No. Are you certain?”
Ike’s normally cheerful face showed his anger. “Our intelligence intercepted a message saying that he was not going to hold a conference at Berchtesgaden because it would be too dangerous. He was right. We would have bombed the place back to the Dark Ages and the days of Barbarossa. Instead, he said he was going to go directly to the Redoubt. A new Nazi Germany would then arise from the ashes of the Third Reich. I don’t want that. I want Nazi Germany destroyed!”
“General, everyone wishes that. The only question is how in God’s name do we do it?”
* * *
Major Alfonse Hahn smiled coldly. The thin and pale boy standing before him and staring at him was perhaps fourteen. He had either lied his way into the Wehrmacht, or the army was so desperate that it was now taking little children. Sadly, he thought the latter. He was so young that his face was covered with pimples. The boy had not been one of the rabble inducted into the Volkssturm. He had been enlisted in the regular army, which meant he had received at least minimal training. That and his eagerness to serve the Reich would suffice.
“Private Gruber, what do you see before you?”
The boy giggled. “A piece of shit, sir.”
The man kneeling before them with his back to them winced slightly as he heard the two men talking about him. He was so weak and emaciated that he could barely maintain his balance. His eyes were blank and it was clear that the man would die soon if he wasn’t helped, which wasn’t likely. They were in a room in a newly dug cave in the heart of the redoubt and it was cold.
Hahn laughed. “An apt description, Private. Now, specifically what kind of shit do you observe?”
Gruber walked around the man who barely moved, except to shiver from the damp and cold and fear. “From his clothing, or the rags he is wearing, it is obvious that he came from a camp. My guess is Dachau, since we are moving so many of those inmates here to work.”
“What is this man’s crime, Private?”
Gruber glared at the offending prisoner. “He has a pink triangle sewn on what’s left of his uniform. This means he is a homosexual. He is a fag, a queer. He is almost as bad as a Jew.” Gruber looked puzzled. “Sir, is it possible that he is both a queer and a Jew?”
“No. The camp administration ranks crimes and nothing is more serious than being a Jew. Even if he was a Jew and a queer, he would be wearing the yellow emblem. Now, what do we do with shit like him?”
“Send him to the gas chambers, I would hope, sir.”
Does everyone know about the gas chambers and the death camps? wondered Hahn. “Have you ever killed for the Reich?”
“To my sorrow, no.”
Well-spoken lad, Hahn thought. There was no braggadocio about having killed hordes of Soviets. “Could you? Could you kill someone who was right in front of you and someone whose face you could see?”
Gruber began to understand the game. “If it was a piece of subhuman shit like this queer, I would do it in a heartbeat.”
Hahn gave the boy a Luger. “Then do it.”
The boy took the pistol, smiled and walked over to the prisoner. He put it to the back of the man’s head and fired. The sound echoed in the cave. The bullet entered the prisoner’s skull and blew out his forehead, splattering brains and blood on the earthen floor. For an incredible few seconds, the dead prisoner continued to kneel, but then collapsed soundlessly. Gruber looked shocked at what he had done and Hahn thought the boy would vomit. That would hardly disqualify him, however. Even the best got sick the first time they killed. He had. Instead, the boy fought for control and won.
Gruber calmly handed back the Luger. “Do you want me to clean it for you, sir?”
“No thank you, Private. I prefer to clean my weapons myself. Now, do you still want to join my elite new force?”
The boy smiled. “I want to be a Werewolf, sir. More than anything else, I want to fight for the Reich and kill the enemies of the Fuhrer.”
“And what if the Fuhrer is dead, killed in the battle for Berlin?”
Gruber’s eyes welled up. His lips quivered as he blinked back the tears. “Then I will fight for whoever follows him. I always knew that Adolf Hitler was mortal. I just didn’t think his end would come so soon. It’s all the fault of the communists and Jews.”
Hahn smiled. Gruber was one of several dozen like him whose fanatical devotion to Hitler and their vision of Germany made them volunteer to be Werewolves. All were young men who were either in their early teens or looked like they were. They’d known nothing more all their lives then to worship their one true god, Adolf Hitler. They all swore that they would be willing martyrs for their god. Hahn stroked the star-shaped red scar on his cheek. He thought that martyrdom was stupid, but if it helped Germany, he would utilize the foolish martyrs.
“Private Gruber, congratulations, you are now a Werewolf. The sergeant outside will send you to your new quarters. Oh, and please tell him to send in some other prisoners to clean up this mess.”
Chapter 5
The return to Vogelgrun was done much more carefully and surreptitiously. Even though the land beyond the Rhine had been bombed and shelled several times since they’d been blasted out of their hotel observation post, they were taking no chances.
The hotel that Tanner and the others had used as an observation post had been reduced to a charred pile of rubble. Tanner, Hill, and a squad of infantry dug in the old-fashioned way, with shovels and grunts. The ground was soft and they soon had a decent narrow trench that would protect them from anything but a direct hit. Or so they hoped. They also hoped that the partly cloudy night had protected them from curious eyes.
Hill reached over and tugged on Tanner’s sleeve. “Captain, what are those silly boys doing?” Two men with bulky equipment on their backs had moved to the riverbank.
“Sergeant, they are going to swim the Rhine underwater. Or at least they’re going to try it. That tanks on their backs contain oxygen that will enable them to breathe underwater. Two French guys thought of it a couple of years ago. They’re called aqualungs.”
“Jeez, Captain, you mean the French actually once had a good idea?”
“Be nice, Sergeant. Those two men are Army Rangers who’ve been trained on the equipment. They are going to try and take a thin line across, anchor it, and return. We can then attach heavier cables and use the cable as a pulley to get good sized rafts to the other side.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Yep. If the Krauts don’t shoot them, they might freeze to death in the water. I was told they’ve stuffed their waterproof suits with anything that’ll insulate them and even greased their bodies like Gertrude Ederle did when she swam the English Channel twenty years ago. If the Rangers survive their crossing, they’re going to do a little bit of scouting, but just a little. Their primary purpose is to bring back that cable so we can send over a raft.”
“Why don’t they use a snorkel? I’ve used something like that back home.”
“I don’t know, Hill, and you ask too many questions. Maybe because they can stay underwater longer and de
eper or maybe they just wanted to try out the equipment in truly wretched conditions.”
Hill’s nod was barely visible in the darkness. “Sounds like the Army.”
Lights were forbidden, including smoking. To the enemy, it was hoped that the American side of the Rhine was calm and placid. They tried to watch the swimmers’ progress, but gave up. They thought they could see bubbles, but maybe it was just something in the river, debris or a fish. Tanner had been told that uncharted debris could kill a swimmer and the Rhine was filled with it.
“I think they’re across,” Hill said softly. “Do they have radios?”
“No. It was decided they’d weigh them down and we couldn’t fully waterproof them anyhow. We’ll know when they return.” If they return, he thought.
After an hour they were getting concerned. Another and they were sick with worry. The thin cable attached to the American side was no help. Sometimes it was slack and sometimes it was tight. Finally, they sensed a disturbance by their side of the riverbank and first one and then the second Ranger crawled ashore. Tanner, Hill, and a couple of other American soldiers crawled to them and helped them into the trench. They removed the men’s masks. They were gasping and their faces were blue. One of them did, however, have the cable tied to his belt.
They helped the men out of their bulky and insulated swimming suits and helped warm them by wrapping them in multiple layers of blankets. A little medicinal brandy aided the thawing process as well.
“Great job, guys. You’ll get a medal.”
One had recovered from his ordeal. “You can keep the medal, sir. I just want to get fucking warm. I don’t think my balls will ever thaw out.”
Tanner grinned. “Maybe we can get some nice nurse to massage them for you.”
“As long as it’s a girl, sir, that’d be wonderful. Now, if you’re wondering what we saw across the river, the answer is simple—not much. The riverbank hid our view. It would have been too difficult to climb out since we were slowly dying. That and our orders were to concentrate on anchoring the cable, which we did. An elephant couldn’t pull that thing out.”
Tanner left the two Rangers to get their body heat back to normal. In a few minutes they’d be guided back to where a truck was parked. Their night was done and he would write up the report in such a way that higher brass would have to give them a medal.
“What’s next, sir?” asked Hill. “Although I think I know.”
“That’s right, Sergeant. The light cable is being replaced by a heavier one as we talk, and tomorrow a couple of fools in a small boat will cross and see what is actually out there.”
“Any idea who the two fools are, sir?”
“Can you swim, Sergeant?”
* * *
Dulles led Janek into the largely empty restaurant where they went directly to a table against the wall. An elderly man with a snow-white goatee awaited them and greeted them with a firm handshake. Janek had been told that the man was Doctor Alain Burkholter and that he was a retired banking official who had also served in the Swiss government. Burkholter was thin and Janek guessed he was at least ten years older than Dulles. He had a stern expression. It was as if he disapproved of everything going on around him. As Burkholter did not have official standing with either the Swiss banks or government, he was free to represent both in an unofficial capacity. The same was true of Dulles. Even though he was head of the Swiss offices of the OSS, it was not something that would appear printed on a business card.
“Thank you for coming,” said Burkholter. “I know that your time is important. So much espionage to perform and so little time in which to do it.”
“As long as the Nazis are around, I will not run out of things to do,” said Dulles.
Burkholter smiled at Janek. “Captain, are you aware that two innocent young choirboys from the German embassy were attacked by a group of thugs last night and are now in the hospital recovering from their beating?”
Ernie laughed. Innocent choirboys? He was, however, strangely pleased that he had not killed the two men. “I wish them a speedy recovery.”
“I’m sure you do,” said Burkholter drily. Coffee arrived and they sipped with restrained pleasure, even though the brew was not as good as it could have been.
“Let me get to the point,” said Dulles. “My government is concerned about the degree of cooperation between the Swiss government and Berlin. It is our understanding that you are shipping food and medical supplies to what both we and the Nazis are referring to as their redoubt. We would like to know why.”
“If a wounded tiger climbs on your lap and wants to be petted, what do you do? Why, you pet it, of course. Allen, the Nazis are a wounded and desperate animal. We do not want them trying to take what little we have by force. They might not succeed, but they would devastate Switzerland and kill or wound tens of thousands of our people. We are well aware that our neutrality exists at the whim of the Germans, although now somewhat at the whim of yours. Earlier, we served the Nazis’ purposes by being their banker and their conduit to the outside world. Now they want food, weapons, ammunition, and medical supplies. Weapons and ammunition they may not have. We would have barely enough for ourselves if the Germans were to strike.”
Ernie was puzzled. “Excuse me, sir, but I thought that Switzerland was militarily quite strong?”
Burkholter laughed. “Good. You actually believed all the propaganda. Perhaps you would like to enlist in the Swiss navy? It doesn’t exist either. Captain, my country has a population of just over four million with perhaps half a million either in the army or in the reserves. It sounds substantial, but it the numbers are flawed. Our men are not well trained, and we have no armor and only a little artillery. Our air force is condemned to fail because it is small and what we do have consists of German-manufactured planes that we bought, with many of them being ME109 fighters. Sadly, a number of them have been shot down by you Americans who don’t bother to read markings, which brings me to another disturbing point.”
“And what might that be?” asked Dulles. He was not happy at what he was hearing.
“We have compelling reason to believe that the capital of this Alpine Redoubt will be at the very small city of Bregenz, which is on the coast of Lake Constance. Once this is confirmed, I’m certain that your air force generals will want to bomb it. This must not happen.”
Even Dulles looked surprised. “And why not?”
“Because Bregenz is so close to the Swiss border that it is almost impossible for you to not hit places in Switzerland, which would be a tragedy. This has happened numerous times already. In fact, the presence of Captain Janek is a case in point. Were you absolutely certain where you were when you were shot down, Captain?”
Janek grinned sheepishly. “I had no idea. I knew I was somewhere over Europe but that was about it. I really thought I was going to wind up in a German Stalag. I am a very lucky man.”
Burkholter smiled warmly. “Indeed you are. I am also aware that you have something called a Norden bombsight, which is supposed to be a secret, but clearly isn’t. Despite all the claims regarding its alleged accuracy, it is only as good as the pilots using it and they are subject to all kinds of conditions that adversely affect its accuracy. These include weather, winds, visibility, being shot at by antiaircraft and German planes and, of course, the skill of the pilot. Your air force won’t want to admit it, but bloody few of the bombs you drop land anywhere near the target. Ergo, we do not want Bregenz or any other place near our border bombed. You may tell Eisenhower, or whoever is in charge of these things, that we will be mobilizing a large portion of our army. It will attempt to protect our borders from any German incursion and we will be setting up every antiaircraft gun we have. We will make a concerted effort to shoot down any plane that even approaches our border regardless of nationality.”
Janek was surprised at how angry Dulles looked. The man was livid. “Are you telling me, Doctor Burkholter, that we must grant sanctuary to the Germans?”
; Burkholter was no longer smiling. “In so many words, yes. Unless you want to antagonize us, your planes should stay a good fifty miles from Bregenz. It this means that the pathetic rump Nazi government is safe from above, then so be it.”
The meeting was over. Burkholter picked up the tab and the three men left. “That was very educational,” said Janek.
“But not surprising and, no, they are not bluffing. There have been too many incidents where Switzerland has been either bombed or damaged. There was one complete ass of an American pilot who bombed a railroad station in Switzerland when he was supposed to be hitting a different target in Germany. The Swiss rightly complained that the man not only missed the target but got the wrong town in the wrong country. Worse, civilians were killed. It was not one of our finer moments.”
Ernie decided to keep his thoughts to himself regarding bombing accuracy. Some of the bombs he’d dropped from his P51 were classified as near misses when they hadn’t fallen within a couple hundred yards of the target. “Okay, how does all this affect me?”
“First, I wanted a witness. Second, I wanted you to be educated before you go on to your next location. You will be going to the small town of Arbon on Lake Constance where you will help coordinate OSS activities across the border in Germany.
On occasion, you might want to walk to the German border and see the supermen in action. You might even want to go out on a boat. If you do, be discreet. Despite what Doctor Burkholter said about the Swiss navy, they do have patrol boats protecting their border.”
“Mr. Dulles, will the Nazis be granted a sanctuary in the Redoubt?”
“Sadly, it is very likely.”
* * *
Using the cable and a pulley to haul small boats containing American soldiers across the Rhine worked, but with only minimal efficiency. It took too long, was too dangerous, and only a handful could make each trip. And it was only attempted at night. Thus, after a week only five men were more or less permanently stationed on the German side of the Rhine. For a few days, Tanner was one of them. He spent much of his time either hiding in the mud or crawling in it. He recalled Dr. Hagerman’s admonition that he should not get his feet wet. How does one do that when there is a war on and you really don’t have enough rank to order someone else to get wet?
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