by Ward Wagher
Sinclair placed his arms on his desk and watched Churchill. He had learned to wait patiently when the other man was pondering. He had long since concluded that, in this great game of nations, Winston Churchill had the clearest strategic vision and was also the wiliest tactical operator.
He continued to puff on the cigar, and then looked at Sinclair. “What of the Panama Canal?”
“Closed at both ends, Sir.”
“That is a strategic disaster of the first order for the Americans. And we will likely lose the Suez.”
“That is increasingly likely, Sir” Sinclair said. “Rommel is marching on Egypt. We have damn all to stop him.”
“And withdrawing our forces to the horn of Africa will only delay the inevitable. I do not think we have the sea-lift to pull Montgomery off.”
“That would be a question for the first sea lord,” Sinclair said.
Churchill tilted his head to acknowledge the point as he continued working the cigar. “Do you have any intelligence concerning Schloss's arrival time in Berlin?”
“They will have to drive from Riva del Garda to Verona in the morning. Our source in the propaganda ministry says they are planning a welcome at Tempelhof for around 5PM.”
Sinclair resisted the temptation to ask Churchill what he was thinking. The prime minister could get snappish when interrupted.
“What will the weather be like over the continent tomorrow?”
“At a guess, not good,” Sinclair said. “It is quite dirty here today, and I think that will move towards Germany.”
“Perhaps it might be a good time to remind the Germans that the RAF are not toothless.”
“What do you have in mind, Prime Minister?”
“I would like to mount a maximum effort over Berlin tomorrow with time on target a little before 5. If we should happen to catch the Reichschancellor’s aircraft along the way, so much the better.”
Sinclair grew very still. “That is very risky, Sir. We have suffered heavy losses when we attempted daylight raids.”
“If there are clouds to hide in, we can perhaps escape the worst of the Luftwaffe predations. The question, Sir Hugh, is whether we should gamble most of our bombing capabilities with this one throw of the dice. If we can sweep Schloss from the game, perhaps the Germans will go back to being their usual idiotic selves.”
“I cannot answer that, Sir. We could lose most of our bombers to no effect.”
“And our night fighters,” Churchill said. “They have the range to get to Berlin and back out again… You are frightened?”
Sinclair stared at Churchill and debated within himself at the question he wanted to ask. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, he thought.
“Prime Minister, what is the line between audacity and foolhardiness?”
Churchill stood up. “A very good question. The line is narrow indeed. Now, I must go and alert the RAF. They will have a lot to do and not a lot of time.”
“And time is our mortal enemy.”
Churchill quirked a grin. “The old man with the scythe calls on everyone sooner or later. Perhaps with a little luck, and some help from the Almighty, we can keep him away from our boys tomorrow.”
§ § §
March 21, 1942; 2PM
The White House
Washington, DC, USA
President Wallace studied the group of men sitting in the Oval Office that afternoon. Their gloomy mood reflected that of the country as a whole. They were in deep trouble and everyone knew it. The Japanese had rolled up one victory after the other, and pretty much owned the Pacific Ocean. The United States Navy had been beaten back to the west coast in a series of costly defeats. The Japanese had followed up with a series of attacks on the coastal cities which did more damage to morale than it did to the infrastructure.
He looked at the distinguished looking general sitting to his left. “Mr. Stimson, as the secretary of war, please give me a thumbnail of our current status so that everyone in the room is on the same page.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Stimson replied. “It appears the Japanese are attempting to grab as much territory as possible as soon as they can. Our guess is that they want to digest the conquests at their leisure. They now have a beachhead on Australia and in my opinion, they will overrun all the coastal areas.”
“And most of the Aussie army is stranded in North Africa,” William Donovan, the Coordinator of Information said.
Stimson nodded. “The Brits are in a situation similar to ours. The Germans own the Med and soon will control the Suez Canal. Any shipping or naval forces will have to go around the Cape of Good Hope. And there is precious little they can spare for the Anzacs.”
“And nothing we can do, either, I assume,” the president commented.
“No, Sir.” Stimson replied. “The sum total of our assets in the Far East are in China, and those are mainly the pilots we seconded to Chennault. We have some covert assets in place in China, but it can take months for their reports to reach us.”
“The good news is that we have reinforced our air cover off the west coast. The Japanese managed to hurt us badly on the west side of the canal, but we also may have hurt them badly in return. One of our submarines sank a carrier. Reports from the air attacks were confused, but we are pretty sure we got a piece of at least another carrier.”
Donovan raised a finger. “Yes, Mr. Donovan?” the president said.
“The Germans back-doored a report from a source of theirs in Tokyo. They indicated we sank four carriers, plus some of their support ships.”
“And why did you not see fit to notify me of this?” Stimson asked frostily.
“I only received the message just as I was leaving to come to this meeting,” Donovan said with a smirk.
“And what kind of shape is the navy in?” Wallace asked, looking at Frank Knox, the Secretary of the Navy.
“What we have in the Pacific is a coastal force only, Mr. President. It can give a good account of itself assuming adequate land-based air cover. Until we have a solid carrier force, we cannot resume offensive operations.”
“A lot of money spent on the Navy is sitting on the bottom of the Pacific right now,” General George Marshall, the Chief of Staff of the Army said.
Knox immediately responded, “And your point is, Sir?”
Wallace held up a hand. “I am not interested in recriminations today, Gentlemen. “Admiral Kimmel accepted the blame for the defeat at Pearl Harbor, but let’s be honest, we did not give him a lot to work with. We could equally assign blame to Congress for failing to allot enough funds to keep the fleet at sea. Now, pray continue, Mr. Knox.”
“Yes, Mr. President. We plan to launch four Essex carriers this summer. We are working as rapidly as possible, and hope to have them in service by the first of next year. We have laid the keels of another twelve carriers.”
“Is that going to be enough?” Wallace asked.
Knox shook his head. “Probably not. We must assume the Japanese are working as fast as they can on new build. And they have a long head start. But we need the rest of the yard capacity to build support ships. We will catch up eventually. We have a lot more industrial capacity than the Japs. We are talking about a long war, though.”
“I assume the military has been talking about this,” Wallace said. “How long a war are we talking about?”
Stimson grimaced, then cleared his throat. “Mr. President, if all goes well, we will be wrapping things up by about 1952.”
“Eleven years?”
Marshall nodded. “It will be several years before we can go toe to toe with them in the Pacific. And that is only if our admirals can handle their ships smartly.”
Wallace looked at Knox.
“I cannot disagree with that assessment, Sir,” Knox said. “We are in a terrible position.”
“Perhaps then I should start exploring talks with the Japanese so that we can end this war. Would they even talk to us?”
“Oh, I think they would,” Admiral Leah
y, the president’s chief of staff said. “But I think the next generation of Americans would be meeting them on the beaches of California. It would be a far bloodier war. Sir, we cannot kick the can down the road. We have to dig in and beat these savages.”
Wallace sat and studied the men silently for nearly a minute. Finally, he spoke. His voice sounded like a rusty hinge. “Very well, Gentlemen. I will consider what you have said. Now tell me about the Atlantic and the Mediterranean.”
Knox nodded. “As you know, Sir, our group of U-Boats that we purchased from the Germans were ready to sail when our provisioning ship blew up. We lost 328 Americans and an unknown number of Germans and Italians. The ship was a total loss, and four of the U-Boats were severely damaged in the explosion. My recommendation is that we send in a force of cruisers and destroyers and convoy the seaworthy U-Boats to Norfolk. Everything going to the Pacific will have to go around Cape Horn, and I am in no hurry to start ferrying operations. When we are ready to sail a task force out there, we will have a submarine force trained on fleet operations.”
“And are our German friends behaving themselves?” The president asked.
Donovan raised a finger again. “We predict they will have Egypt in the next three months. This also means they will control Palestine and the Levant. They are pushing their rail line through Baghdad to the Persian Gulf. This will give them unlimited amounts of oil. We assume they are planning to allow the Jews to set up a government in Palestine.”
“I can’t say I’m sorry to see that happen,” Wallace said. “Schloss really seems to want to do right by the Jews.”
“And the Germans have been very cordial to us,” Donovan said. “We also heard that they have agreed to meet with the Czech government in exile in Lisbon. We think Schloss is trying to work a deal that will give them home rule. In exchange for pulling his garrison troops out, they would have to agree to behave.”
“That is interesting,” Wallace said. “I think we should do anything reasonable to encourage those actions. I suspect they would be less popular in Germany.”
“The Germans love Schloss,” Donovan said. “Especially since he got married. His bride has really impressed them. At the moment, he probably can do anything he pleases.”
“Are the Germans a threat to us, in the long run?” Wallace asked.
Donovan shrugged. “I can’t see the future, Mr. President. However, the Germans are very continental in their outlook. While they are clearly terrified of going to war with us, they do not see us as competitors. At some point, however, they may try to destroy the Russians. If there is one thing you can say about the Krauts, is that they unfailingly hate communism. In fact, we have some solid intelligence that Hitler was about ready to kick off an invasion of Russia when he was killed.”
“That is interesting,” Wallace said. “I think I would like to see those reports.”
Donovan nodded. “I will see that they are delivered to you, Sir.”
“One more thing before we are finished here,” the president said. “Who blew up our ship in Italy?”
The men in the room looked at each other. “Could we assume it simply blew up on its own?” Stimson asked.
“About like having every man in one of your regiments stick his gun barrel in his mouth?” Knox asked.
“Enough,” Wallace said mildly. “I would like your thoughts.”
“It is possible, however unlikely, it was an accident,” Knox said. “Stranger things have happened. But, the attack that killed Mussolini was carried out by Communist partisans. It is entirely possible they also engineered the explosion in La Spezia.”
“Have you ruled out the British?” Wallace asked.
“I think it unlikely,” Donovan said. “I know the Brits have people in place all around Europe, but pulling something like that off seems like a stretch. They are clearly motivated, but whether their grudge would extend to murdering American sailors, I cannot say.”
“I suppose I could ask Winston,” Wallace said with a sour smile. The men in the room chuckled.
“Very well, Gentlemen,” President Wallace said. “Thank you for your time.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
March 22, 1942; 4PM
Over Bavaria, Germany
The four BMW Bramo radial engines provided a soothing back drop to the trip back to Berlin, as the aircraft soared across the European skies. Gisela lay curled up on her seat, asleep. Schloss worked through the unending stack of paperwork that accompanied him everywhere. He considered again the volumes of decisions that landed on his desk, while other world leaders could delegate the load. On the other hand, the good Germans in the government were happy to have a leader telling them what to do. Many of them had never developed the judgment necessary for good decision-making.
The ride was a little rough on this afternoon. The Focke-Wulf Condor was flying slightly below the heavy overcast. He glanced out the window at the shadowed countryside three-thousand meters below, and was happy to be over Germany again. He looked over at Gisela, and smiled fondly. The honeymoon trip had turned into a terrifying adventure and she was exhausted. The bounding of the airplane seemed not to bother her.
He hoped either Rainer or Canaris had been able to solve the riddle of the explosion on the American ship. In Riva del Garda the Italian secret police, or the OVRA, had identified several of the dead attackers as Communist partisans. There was not much doubt they had come in to settle the score with Mussolini. He had asked Peter Schreiber and Joachim von Ribbentrop to fly to Rome for the funeral. The foreign minister was going, obviously, to pay his respects. Peter was going to try to determine what the Italians were going to do next.
The Italians had been a reliable ally, even if they were only marginally competent. Schloss could not imagine them suddenly changing sides. But, stranger things had happened. He expected the Germans would have to expend some effort to keep the Italians in the fold. Schloss concluded it would be a small price to pay.
He happened to be looking out the window and saw darker exhaust begin pouring from the stacks on one of the FW-190 escort fighters as it pulled rapidly away from the Condor. The Condor began what Schloss thought was a gentle turn to the right, but turned into a steep bank. He felt the G forces build as the pilot wracked the plane through a tight turn.
“Darling, what is happening?” Gisela said as she awoke.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I don’t think I want to interrupt the pilot right now.”
He saw streaks of light and then a twin-engine plane zoomed past, underneath them. It was followed closely by two FW-190 fighters, and the streaks from the tracers were clearly visible.
The pilot rolled the Condor level and then rapidly banked to the left. Schloss had never ridden an aircraft in maneuvers like this. As the aircraft rotated, he caught a glimpse out the windows of dozens of aircraft, all involved in a melee. Most seemed to have the Royal Air Force roundel on the wings and fuselage. The twin-engine airplane again flew under them, and Schloss recognized it as an English Beaufighter. Smoke was pouring from both engines, but the two FW-190s continued to harry it. In the next moment, the Condor was in the clouds and they could see nothing.
“We were under attack, weren’t we?” Gisela said.
The phone next to Schloss's seat chimed, and he picked it up.
“Herr Reichschancellor, this is the pilot. Berlin is under attack and we are diverting to Leipzig.”
“Very well,” he said. “Keep me informed.”
He dropped the phone back into its pocket and looked at Gisela. “It seems Berlin is under attack.”
“As were we, Darling,” she said. “Will this never end?”
“We are going back to Leipzig. I don’t think we will get home tonight.”
“We were very close to not getting home ever, were we not?”
He chose not to answer the question. “I think we are safe for the moment.”
“For the moment? Hennie, we were nearly killed. Again!”
He reached out and took her hand. “We have survived, once again, my Dear. We knew there would be risks.”
“But, I hardly expected to have someone try to shoot us out of the sky,” she cried.
“To be honest, I didn’t expect it either. I wonder if Churchill decided he had to take advantage of an opportunity.”
“But why would he do something like that?”
He looked down and grinned. “Perhaps, he thought that if he could get rid of me, someone like Hitler would take power and possibly be easier to beat.”
“But if something happened to you, Peter would take over, right?”
“Gisela, I don’t know. I think ultimately that would be true, but Peter is still inexperienced. I think Goering would try to seize power. And that would be Churchill’s dream come true.”
“You do not seem to be very concerned about this,” she said accusingly.
“I am deeply concerned.”
“But you are not frightened.”
He looked out the window again as they bumped along through the clouds. “No, my Dear, I suppose I am not.”
She looked at him in disbelief.
“Honestly,” he continued. “Frau Marsden has told me repeatedly that there are things I must accomplish. I have seen enough strange things, that I expect we will be safe until we manage whatever she thinks we must.”
“That is not even funny,” she snapped. “You are listening to the words of a crazy old woman, and I am terrified.”
“I was not trying to be funny, Gisela.”
She spun around and faced the side of the airplane. He shook his head and watched out the other window, and wondered where the fatalism had come from.
§ § §
March 22, 1942; 6PM
Village of Almoshof
Near Nuremburg, Germany
Reinhard Heydrich drummed his fingers on the table top and debated on whether any action was worth the risk on this evening. A phone call had come in from a friend in Leipzig telling him of the Reichschancellor’s unexpected visit. There obviously had been several attempts to eliminate Schloss, aside from Heydrich’s activities. It was unfortunate that none were successful. And Heydrich’s efforts had been instructive in teaching him that the people guarding Schloss were very good. He had nearly been caught when the American woman escaped from his safe house in Munich.
