Resolute Nazi

by Wagher, Ward

  Gisela had twisted Schloss’s arm without mercy to get him to attend this evening. He had preferred to stay in his office and await news of the offensive. He had already proven once that he was capable of working himself into an emotional breakdown if he didn’t get away periodically. She did her best to help him avoid a recurrence. Between Gisela, Willem, and Frau Marsden, the Reich Chancellor was never allowed to work beyond what his stamina allowed.

  Tonight, Schloss was hugely amused at the reactions to Karl and Misty. And Gisela thought that was a good thing for Herr Schloss. For a few brief moments, he was not worried about the war with the Russians. He was thinking about ways to torment Karl Rainer about his girlfriend.

  The dynamic was interesting. Schloss and Peter Schreiber would poke at each other until finally, Schloss would lose his temper. Peter would leave the field, savoring his victory. Karl Rainer, on the other hand, took Schloss’s teasing in long-suffering silence. And Rainer’s office had avidly followed his romance with Misty and would be thrilled at this evening’s advance. Schloss wasn’t quite sure how he would arrange matters so that the two could eventually marry, but it was obvious the pair had passed a threshold.

  “Don’t they make a cute couple, Darling?” Gisela asked.

  “I am not sure I would refer to Karl as cute,” Schloss responded. “Nevertheless, I am glad to see things proceeding.”

  “Are you worried about either of them compromising their positions in their respective governments?”

  He pondered the question. “I am probably not half as worried as they are. They are both honorable and iron-bound in their duty. They will very likely have difficulties, but I am confident they will not compromise their positions. Besides, I am happy to see this for purely selfish reasons.”

  “What would that be?” she asked.

  “This is the sort of thing that will cement the relationship between Germany and America. I am shamelessly prepared to take advantage of that.”

  “You are terrible, Darling,” she smirked.

  “No, Precious. Merely pragmatic. And Karl is as fully aware of that as I am.”

  “What about Misty?”

  “Misty is no fool. I am certain her boss, who is actually William Donovan of the OSS by the way, has encouraged this.”

  “That is a terrible thing to do to our people.”

  “No, I think this is one of the more satisfying things we have all done.”

  “I hope you are right, Darling.”

  “So am I,” he replied.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  June 10, 1943; 10 AM

  Over Eastern Poland

  The JU-88S was running well this morning. Per doctrine, Major Helmut Wohlke had climbed to 18,000 meters, though the high altitude had not been necessary for a while. But this gave them a broad sweep of territory to observe, and there were some ugly rumors about a Russian division driving in from the east towards Model’s salient. The Russians around Warsaw had gotten themselves together in a remarkable hurry and were pressing from the west with the obvious goal of sealing the break in the lines, which would trap Model’s forces.

  “Here come the Fliegende Festung,” Captain Felter announced as he scanned the air below them with his binoculars.

  Fifty of the rugged B -17 aircraft flew towards the Russian forces to the west of the sally point. Flying along with them was a Focke-Wulf Condor carrying radar. The English had coined the term radar, but word had come into everyday use around the world. While the German equipment was not as good as what the English now used, it was vastly superior to what rode in the Condors during the war with the English.

  The crew of the observation plane heard the Condor call for fighter support. Felter swung his binoculars around to the east and scanned the sky.

  “Major, we have many, many fighters coming in. I make the count nearly two-hundred.”

  Wohlke whistled. “Call it in Captain.”

  The twenty-five pilots of the Me-262 jet fighters guarding the Fortresses were guilty of complacency and had let their attention wander. They now swung around and opened their throttles to close the distance with the attackers. The crews in the Fortresses began test-firing their defensive guns as they were caught unprepared as well. It had been a couple of weeks since they had seen any serious opposition from the Russians, and they were slow to react.

  The Condor banked away from the formation in a tight turn and began a shallow dive. Having no defensive armament, it would have been helpless against the onslaught. Bad as losing the bombers might be, Germany could ill afford to lose the radar picket. The equipment in the Condor was expensive, and the radar technicians were irreplaceable. The pilot followed his instructions to avoid threat situations.

  Shortly after purchasing the Boeings from the United States, the Germans had replaced the BMW engines in the radar Condors with the Wright Cyclone engines use by the Fortresses. It gave the airplane a bump of nearly 1,600 horsepower total. The pilots were now utilizing every bit of the spritely performance improvement the new engines provided.

  “This is going to be bad, Sir,” Felter commented as he watched the unfolding battle. “The Russians must have thrown everything they had into this.”

  “They caught us with our pants down,” Wohlke replied. “We are going to pay the price for that today. I am just glad they cannot reach us up here.”

  “Amen to that. Otto, are you observing?”

  Sergeant Otto Putin looked up from his vantage point. “Yes, Major. It looks like a whole herd of swine broke through the fence. Looks maybe fifty LaGG-3s, Twenty-five La-5s, and a mixture of Yak-1s and 3s.”

  “They must have stripped the inventory bare for this mission,” Wohlke commented. “But they picked a good time for it.”

  The German jets closed in on the Russian attackers. A modification allowed them to carry a pair of drop tanks, which gave them loitering time over the bomber formation. So, they went into combat with a full fuel load. The Luftwaffe had experimented with the drop tanks for several years. They were manufactured from plywood and were doped on the inside to prevent the fuel from leaking. Since they were filled with fuel immediately before takeoff, they had worked reliably.

  At the order from the flight commander, the pilots dropped the tanks from beneath the wings and moved in to attack the formation. The Russians, having studied German tactics, shifted fifty planes to deal with the jets, and the balance drove through towards the bombers. The Luftwaffe scrambled everything they had available, but everyone knew the reinforcements would not reach the battle in time.

  § § §

  June 10, 1943; 11 AM

  Reich Air Ministry

  Berlin, Germany

  “We have a problem, Herr Reichsmarshall,” General Heinz Guderian said.

  He stood in Goering’s office with his hat under his right arm and maintained a posture of attention.

  “Sit down, Heinz,” Goering replied, “and tell me the problem.”

  Goering carefully leaned forward in his chair and placed his elbows on the desk. The rings around his eyes were impossible to miss, as also were the wrinkles etched in his face from the never-ending pain.

  “The Russians launched a maximum effort attack on our bomber force this morning. They completed their mission and are heading back to base, but we lost twenty-five airplanes out of the fifty that we sent out.”

  “That is terrible, Heinz,” Goering said. His sallow face looked shocked now. “What of our fighter planes?”

  “We had twenty-five jets accompanying the bombers, Herr Reichsmarshall. Five returned. We got reinforcements to the bomber flight and are accompanying them back to base. That broke the back of the Russian attack.”

  “Mein Gott, Heinz. The Reich Chancellor will burst a blood vessel when he hears about this.”

  “I am, of course, prepared to meet the Reich Chancellor in his office to give him the news.”

  Goering smiled sadly. “That will not be necessary, Heinz. I will attend to the Reich Chancellor.”
>
  After all, he thought, if he shoots me, it will only hasten the end of the pain.

  “We are compiling information about the raid as quickly as we can,” Guderian continued. “Based on reports from the radar Condor and our high-altitude observation plane, the Soviets managed to put nearly one-hundred-fifty planes into the air.”

  “That must have been their entire inventory,” Goering commented. “We have done a good job of reducing their air force.”

  “We were surprised they had that many aircraft available,” Guderian replied. “Our jets gave a good account of themselves. For the loss of twenty aircraft, we shot down fifty of theirs. The bombers managed to get twenty, and when our reserve fighters got on the scene, they were able to take care of another thirty.”

  “And what were our losses from the reserve force?”

  “Eight. At that point, the Russians were trying to disengage. They were probably at the limits of their fuel supply. The drop tanks on our jets worked even better than we hoped.”

  Goering nodded. “Yes, but the losses were in areas we could ill afford.”

  “I make no excuses, Herr Reichsmarshall.”

  “Heinz, nobody who understands war will blame you. These things happen.”

  “I am concerned that Model is working himself into a sack.”

  “Explain,” Goering snapped.

  “I think we have a couple of divisions converging on where Model broke through their lines.”

  “And Model does not have the forces available to stop them, right?” Goering said.

  “That is correct.”

  “I must go see the Reich Chancellor,” Goering said. “Send the order to Model, right now, to pull out. If necessary, tell him it comes from the Reich Chancellor. We have one-hundred-thousand men in that force, and we cannot afford to lose them.”

  “I understand, Herr Reichsmarshall.”

  Goering waved the shaken general out of his office and then picked up his phone.

  “Bring my car around and call the Reich Chancellor. Tell him I must see him immediately.”

  § § §

  June 10, 1943; 12 Noon

  Reich Chancellor’s Office

  Reich Chancellery

  Berlin, Germany

  “Thank you for seeing me so quickly, Herr Reich Chancellor,” Goering said as he walked slowly into Schloss’s office.

  “It was no problem, Hermann,” Schloss replied, studying the other man carefully. “Gisela is with my sister today, so I am eating in the dining room down the hall. Would you join me?”

  “My apologies, Herr Reich Chancellor, but I am not able to eat at the moment. I would be more comfortable if I did not smell the food.”

  “Of course,” Schloss said. “Please, have a seat.”

  I had hoped Hermann would last through the summer, Schloss thought, but I think the end will be within a couple of weeks.

  Goering carefully eased himself into the chair across from Schloss’s desk. Schloss watched the other man’s face tighten as a wave of pain swept over him.

  “Are you alright, Hermann? Can I get you anything?”

  Goering held up a hand. “Thank you, but no, Herr Schloss. I have some terrible news from the battlefront. Perhaps if you could have me shot afterward, it would solve some problems.”

  “And what would Emmy think of me if I had done something like that?”

  “That you would be doing me a mercy,” Goering replied.

  Schloss shook his head but didn’t know how to answer. “What was it that brought you over today?”

  “Herr Reich Chancellor, the Russians mounted a massive attack against our bombers this morning. We believe they stripped their inventory bare to do it, but we had twenty-five of the Boeings shot down and lost twenty of our jet fighters.”

  Schloss ground his teeth together and hissed. “Not good news, Hermann.”

  “Not, it was not. The good news is we do not believe Stalin has many more aircraft remaining, at least until he can build more.”

  “That is some comfort,” Schloss replied. “But I suspect we have become complacent.”

  “That is exactly it. The people we had in the air acquitted themselves well, but we didn’t expect something like this.”

  “How goes the ground war, then?”

  “That is another issue,” Goering said. “We have become convinced that the Russians have moved several divisions into a pincer that will trap Model behind the Russian lines. I instructed Guderian to tell Model that you ordered him to retreat in all haste.”

  “That was a good decision, Hermann,” Schloss said.

  He bit the side of a thumbnail as he thought. “We must have something like seventy or eighty thousand men in that operation.”

  “It is closer to one-hundred-thousand, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  “And I was having a pretty good day until now.” Schloss looked at his watch. “When will you have a full report of everything that’s going on in Poland?”

  “We will have a complete report first thing in the morning,” Goering replied.

  “We suppose we should all plan to meet tomorrow morning then. I will have Willem set it up. Thank you for coming over, Hermann.”

  “There was one other thing, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  Schloss raised an eyebrow. Goering struggled out of his chair and handed him a folder.

  “Erhard collected and summarized some notes from the strategy team. He asked if you could review it and inform him as to whether they are on the right track.”

  Schloss opened the folder and glanced at the document. He laid it on his desk.

  “I will be happy to do so, Hermann. It will likely be a few days before I can respond.”

  “I understand completely. Thank you for your time, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  “I’m glad you came immediately.”

  After Goering left, Willem stepped into the office.

  “Your lunch is ready, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  “Thank you, Willem. I will be there presently. Please arrange for the council to meet tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock should be fine.”

  “Of course, mein Herr,” Kirche said. “Will there be an agenda?”

  “Yes, and I’ll get that to you this afternoon. The news has not been good.”

  “Very well. I will make arrangements. After you have given me the agenda, I will get it typed up and sent out.”

  Schloss walked down the hallway to the Reich Chancellor’s private dining room. The meeting with Goering left his stomach unsettled, and he wasn’t sure he could eat. However, Goering had a better reason to skip meals. Schloss hoped not to have to decide on a replacement soon. But if the Russians managed to march through Germany, Goering would probably be one of the lucky ones.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  June 11, 1943; 10 AM

  Prime Minister’s Meeting Room

  Government House

  Tokyo, Japan

  It was very quiet in the prime minister’s meeting room as Yamamoto stared at the report. It was a transcription of the American president’s announcement about the Japanese atrocities in Hawaii. His ashen face was matched by others in the room, although not everyone. He looked up at the gathering and began to speak.

  “I must report this to the emperor. Tell me if this is report is correct. Have we been killing civilians out of hand?”

  It was silent again in the room. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed deafening in contrast.

  “Are you silent because you don’t know, or because you are afraid to answer?”

  General Homma summoned the courage to answer. “Prime Minister, we have always allowed the local commanders to make decisions regarding the populations they control. We do not know in totality what some of them have done.”

  “In other words, you have worked to maintain your deniability,” he shouted. “Do you not realize that any soldier on the ground anywhere represents the emperor? If some fool in Honolulu took the easy way out and slaughtered the popul
ation of that city, the responsibility falls on us, whether we knew about it or not.”

  “If a few of our enemy subjects join their ancestors, what is that to us?” General Maeda said lazily. “It is of no concern of mine, and it shouldn’t worry anyone in this room. When we finish dealing with the Americans, they will learn who is the master and who is the servant.”

  “It is becoming more likely that the Americans will finish dealing with us,” Yamamoto said softly. “And when that happens, they will put a noose around our necks. And we will have deserved it.”

  “Nonsense,” Maeda replied. “We have had a successful war. We will soon have the Americans begging for mercy.”

  “They have retaken Hawaii,” Homma suggested.

  “Baah!” Maeda said. “They have managed a landing on one island. We will soon throw them back into the sea.”

  “With what?” Admiral Shimada asked. “A good proportion of our fleet is at the bottom of the Bay of Bengal. The American Navy has local superiority around Hawaii. We cannot repulse them without stripping everything bare.”

  “The army will push the Americans into the sea,” Maeda said. “Our glorious army in Hawaii is already making preparations to do so.”

  “I hope for everyone’s sake they do so,” Yamamoto commented. “But, General, you have only temporarily succeeded in changing the subject. Is it true that we have killed thousands of Americans around Honolulu?”

  Maeda waved an arm. “As I said, what does it matter?”

  Yamamoto began tapping an index finger on the table. “Is this happening in Australia? Is it happening in the Philippines? And what about Singapore?”

  The prime minister sensed that the room was not entirely with him. Only Shimada had expressed horror at what they discovered. Homma viewed it as a political problem. The rest seemed to think of it as an inconvenience. Maeda probably already knew about the massacre and approved of it.