Resolute Nazi

by Wagher, Ward

  “Very well. I must report this to the emperor. I will receive instructions from him and relay them to the rest of you.”

  Yamamoto stood up, indicating the meeting was over, and he strode from the room without another word. Shimada looked around the room and studied the members of the general staff.

  “We are playing with fire, you know,” he said. “This will inflame the Americans like nothing else we have done. They will sweep through and destroy us all.”

  “And I think you are defeatist,” Maeda said, standing up. “I am through with you for today.”

  And he walked out. Shimada looked around at the group. “I don’t suppose there is anything more I can say, Gentlemen. Let’s adjourn. When the prime minister returns from the emperor, I will call us together again.”

  Shimada walked down the hall and past Yamamoto’s secretary into his office.

  “This just turned from a serious situation to a deadly situation,” Yamamoto said without preamble. “We are going to have to do something about Maeto. And we must convince the rest of the group of how critical this is.”

  Shimada stared at the prime minister for a few moments before speaking.

  “Do you not think the die is already cast? Is there anything we can do at this point?”

  “I fear that is the case. I am going to beg the emperor to permit us to ask for terms from the Americans and the British.”

  “He will never permit that,” Shimada immediately said. “He was one of the driving forces behind this war.”

  “We can only hope he is wiser now,” Yamamoto replied. “I know not what else to do.”

  “Can we recover Hawaii? Maeto thinks so.”

  “What do you think, Shimada?”

  The admiral shook his head. “I believe we should withdraw, if possible, otherwise ask the Army to surrender the islands.”

  “Which they will never do.”

  “Correct,” Shimada replied.

  Yamamoto sighed. “Then we have to play this out. Probably. Let me hear what the emperor says.”

  § § §

  June 12, 1943; 4 PM

  Eastern Poland

  Colonel Ivan Smirnov bent over the map and looked closely at the markings placed there by the staff. Lieutenant Colonel Belyaev stood next to him and also studied the map.

  “This incursion in our lines to the east makes me very uncomfortable, Colonel,” Belyaev said. “We have pulled a significant portion of our forces away from the front to chase it.”

  “Kuzmin thinks it’s at least a couple of divisions worth in that pocket,” Smirnov replied. “If that is the case, trying to close the gap with the 342nd won’t be enough. That’s why we have been stripping the front of extra troops.”

  Belyaev tapped on the map with his pencil over the position of the westernmost forces of the Red Army. “The Germans are starting to push hard there. I am not sure we can hold them with the remaining forces.”

  Smirnov shook his head. “If we allow the Germans to get behind us and cut off our supply lines, it won’t matter whether we hold them in the West or not. Go ahead and draft directives to the front-line commanders. They will need to give ground carefully if it becomes evident they can’t hold the Germans. If we don’t handle this right, the whole front could collapse.”

  “That is exactly what I am trying to say, Comrade Colonel,” Belyaev argued. “We are well below the level of forces that doctrine requires on the Western front.”

  Smirnov shrugged. “What would you have me do, Comrade Colonel?”

  Belyaev scanned the map again and studied where the Russian resources were placed. He tapped one end of the pencil and then the other on the map as he thought.

  “I think I would pull some forces out of Warsaw,” he said. “That place is a sack anyway.”

  “And what would we do about Warsaw?”

  The Lieutenant Colonel dropped the pencil on the map and straightened up. He clasped his hands behind his back.

  “It just occurred to me, Comrade Colonel, that we simply bypass Warsaw and let it wither on the vine. The people in the city would not be able to get food and munitions from the Germans. And they certainly would not get anything from us.”

  “That is an excellent suggestion, Comrade Colonel. I don’t think there is time for us to debate this with the staff. So, go ahead and draft the orders. Let me look at them before you send them.”

  Belyaev jumped to attention. “At once, Comrade Colonel. I will see to it personally.”

  As Belyaev walked off quickly to find his clerk, Smirnov continued studying the map. Russian military doctrine resembled that of the blacksmith. Heat the metal and hammer it until it is bent to the will of the smith. It was a good strategy for an underdeveloped Army, but Smirnov thought it might be time to try another tactic. A rapier thrust would cut off the German incursion and dry up their supply lines. Eventually, the Germans would have no choice but to surrender their trapped Army.

  Smirnov was frightened of the potential consequences of his actions. The war had turned out to be far more complicated than anyone in Moscow had estimated. The Germans were a dangerous and cunning foe. Smirnov saw an opportunity to destroy a German army. But the risks were high. If he failed, he would probably be shot. If he succeeded, he might well be shot anyway for assuming too much initiative. A lot of choice phrases and colloquialisms described the situation, but at the moment he could not think of any. When out of choices, he tended to fall back on his priorities, and his number one priority was to protect the motherland.

  Major Kuzmin walked over to the Colonel. “I think we had four German divisions breakthrough at Lublin,” he said without preamble. “I don’t think we are going to be able to pinch them off with just two Red Army divisions.”

  “That’s 80,000 men,” Smirnov exclaimed. “Where did Rommel get all those troops?”

  “I wonder if Rommel threw their reserves into the fight,” Kuzmin speculated. “I think it is clear that they have thrown in everything else they had.”

  Smirnov turned and placed both hands on the map table and bent over to study it. “That has got to be it, Major. I don’t know where else….”

  He broke off as he became aware of a low-pitched buzzing sound in the air. “Take shelter!” he shouted.

  Taking no thought for his personal dignity, Smirnov scrambled out of the tent and dashed towards the sandbagged bunker that he had ordered constructed after the previous attacks. Once inside, he turned and watched as the other men on the command staff rushed to get undercover. He hoped the bunker would be adequate if the buzz bomb happened to hit close to them.

  The roof of the bunker was constructed with two layers of railroad ties followed by four layers of sandbags. The walls were also of sandbags stacked four layers deep. It wouldn’t hold up under a direct hit, but Smirnov wanted to avoid those unfortunate events like the one that killed his previous general.

  Major Kuzmin had carefully examined the remains of the machine that had previously inflicted the injuries upon them and concluded it was a pilotless aircraft. From what they could tell, the accuracy was terrible. But it forced them to drop everything and take cover any time they heard the peculiar buzzing sound the machine emitted. The Germans sent enough of those things in that it disrupted his work with distressing regularity.

  The low-pitched buzzing sound increased and was followed by a massive explosion. Smirnov cocked his head as he listened.

  “It looks like that is it for now,” he said. “Let’s get back to work.”

  Not one to lead from behind, Smirnov left the bunker first. The two military policemen who functioned as his guards scrambled to keep up with him. He scanned the encampment and noted the cloud of smoke where the machine had crashed. It looked like the beast had selected a stretch of empty ground to dig the crater, and he was satisfied with that. He reentered the command tent and walked over to continue studying the map.

  Major Kuzmin walked up to him. “We need two more divisions if we are going to lock down
the Germans.”

  Smirnov stared at him until the major grew frightened.

  “Then, major,” he said icily, “I suppose we’re going to have to find two more divisions. I suggest you get busy.”

  Major Kuzmin straightened up and hurried over to where his intelligence people were working. Smirnov chuckled to himself. Kuzmin was a good intelligence officer, but the man could be officious at times and required regular pruning. The man was worried that Smirnov would expect him to come through on his suggestions. Smirnov had no idea where to find two more divisions, and Kuzmin did not either.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  June 12, 1943; 8 PM

  Gasthaus Pomerania

  Berlin, Germany

  “I’m glad you were able to take an evening off, Karl,” Misty Simpson said. “It seems like you have lived at the office lately.”

  Karl Rainer smiled at pert brunette. “I realized that the only way I would get an evening away from the office was if I simply decided to make it happen. Herr Schloss reminded me one time that the work would still be there in the morning.”

  “Exactly. It is not like you are lazy or anything.”

  He laughed. “Yes, but I still feel guilty about it.”

  “But you don’t feel guilty about neglecting me?” she asked.

  He wagged a finger at her. “Now, do not put words in my mouth, Misty. It seems you have spent plenty of evenings and weekends in your office as well.”

  “Yes, but I am naturally more productive. I have to be to do both my job and Smoke’s.”

  H. Gordon Smoke was the American ambassador to the Reich. Smoke and Simpson, who was the First Secretary of the embassy, engaged in incessant warfare with most of the embassy personnel being fascinated onlookers. Yet, they were both effective in their jobs. Between them, they had engineered Germany’s rapprochement with the United States. Smoke had accomplished his part through maladroit diplomacy that worked despite his evident inexperience. Simpson succeeded in developing a close friendship with the Reichsprotektor.

  “I’m sure Herr Smoke would have something to say about that,” Rainer responded.

  “Yes, but you and I both know that I’m right.”

  He laughed again. “I would not venture to argue with you.”

  “It would do no good,” she said with a grin.

  “I understand that as well.”

  The conversation ebbed as they worked on their dinner. The clever arrangement of draperies in the restaurant provided a muted atmosphere and conversations did not carry. It seemed as though each table was in its own bubble of privacy.

  “This is nice,” Misty said, looking around the room. “Even though the restaurant is full, it seems like it is just the two of us. It’s a pleasant change from the embassy.”

  “I know what you mean. I can usually retreat to my office and close the door, but I know that dozens are waiting to pounce when I set foot in the outer office. The only thing I have waiting for me here is the check.”

  “Why do we do what we do?” she asked. “Is this what patriotism looks like?”

  He stirred a piece of pork loin around in the gravy with his fork as he pondered the question. “Patriotism, duty, honor. Take your pick. For me, it has come down to the knowledge that I must do certain things.”

  “To preserve the Reich?” she asked.

  “Oh, that is part of it, to be sure,” he said. “But I also think, in my case, it is just the right thing to do. And finding people in this land who know the right thing to do are scarce.”

  “Perhaps I might correct you slightly, Karl,” she said.

  “Eh?”

  “I think there are plenty of people in Germany who know what the right thing is, but the people who are willing to do something about it are scarce.”

  “Either way,” he replied, ‘it’s what I have to do.”

  “How long do you expect to remain in your position?” she asked. “I’m curious.”

  “Frankly, I do not see an end to it, Misty. Herr Schloss, Peter, and I want to put a constitutional republic in place. And I expect it will take most of our lives to clean up the mess the Herr Hitler created.”

  “Do you expect to stay in government all your life?” she asked.

  “That remains to be seen. In the long run, I may be more effective as a private citizen. And you are asking this because you are concerned about us.”

  “That has been on my mind,” she confessed. “Once I decided not to be difficult, I find myself growing impatient.”

  He grinned at her but said nothing.

  “All right!” she exclaimed. “I am not always difficult.”

  “What would Ambassador Smoke say to that?” Rainer asked, rolling his tongue around in his cheek.

  “This is a point you and I have in common,” she answered. “We don’t suffer fools.”

  Rainer picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth. “I have no answer to that remark, Misty. I simply believe you are correct.”

  “Let me ask you this, Karl; do you believe we could get a weekend together?”

  “What do you have in mind?” he asked.

  “When I was in Munich, I saw the mountains around the city. Do you suppose we could visit the Bavarian Alps?”

  He thought about the mountains of work in his office that required his attention. By working Saturdays and part of Sundays, he was barely able to keep up with the load. On the other hand, he was finally making progress with Misty and did not want to risk that.

  “Of course, Misty. Let me talk to the appointments secretary and see if we can clear off a weekend. And now that you mention it, I really could use some time away from here.”

  “Then, it’s settled,” she said. She clapped her hands together. “It will be nice to get away and not be required to attend some function or listen to the drivel from that ass, Smoke.”

  “And there was one other thing,” she added, reaching out to put her hand on his arm. “Daddy is coming to Berlin for a visit.”

  Rainer considered what she had said and wondered if it presented an opportunity for him.

  “I would like to meet your father, I think,” he said. “What is that American saying? A splinter off the log?”

  She looked puzzled and suddenly laughed. “I think you mean, a chip off the old block.”

  “That must be it,” he agreed. “So, he is traveling clear to Berlin from New York to see you?”

  “He has business interests in London and is traveling there via steamship. He talked about taking a plane from London to Berlin. He asked if I could arrange for him to meet with Herr Ribbentrop. I think he is looking to invest in Germany.”

  “I can certainly arrange that,” Rainer said. “Herr Ribbentrop is always looking for opportunities to conclude business with the Americans.”

  “Smoke told me that we have offered to buy your aircraft carriers,” she said.

  He smiled. “Your changes of subject never cease to amaze me. I can tell you, unofficially of course, that we would like to conclude an agreement. It is subject to negotiations, of course.”

  “That’s good news,” she said. “I understand we hurt the Japanese badly in the Bay of Bengal, but I think they sank more of our tonnage. But they cannot continue to lose ships like that. On the other hand, we need every carrier we can get our hands on.”

  “And our friend Lane is getting ready to move another one-hundred of the Boeing bombers over here. Have you heard anything?”

  “From him?” she asked, looking surprised.

  “Well, yes. You are liaisoning with him, are you not?” Rainer asked.

  “Yes. We have not received a projected date for the airplanes to start arriving. And we would have notified the RLM as soon as we heard anything. It’s taking longer than I thought it should.”

  “I wanted to make sure that the RLM wasn’t holding information back,” he commented.

  “Would they do that?” she asked.

  “What do you think?”

  “As serious as
the situation in Poland is right now,” she stated, “I think that would be pretty damned stupid.”

  “Such language,” Rainer said with a smile.

  She blushed. “Daddy taught me early on that ladies need to speak carefully. Unfortunately, I learned too many swearwords from him.”

  “Tsk, tsk. I shall have to speak to him about this.”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  He laughed again, and she glared at him. “I’m telling you, Mister, that you had better think about your life expectancy when you say things like that.”

  He laughed again. He looked up as the waiter slipped up to the table.

  “Would some dessert be acceptable, Herr Rainer? Fräulein?”

  “I don’t think I could eat another bite,” she said. “That was wonderful. Plus, I think I should get home. I have an early day tomorrow.”

  “As do I,” Rainer said. He looked up at the waiter. “Just the check, please.”

  The ride back to Blucher Palace was quiet. After a while, Misty spoke.

  “I think it would be nice for us to have some time alone in the mountains.”

  He shook his head. “As long as you remember that the time alone will include about twelve guards and other staff.”

  “But we will have some time for conversation, right?”

  “Oh, yes. My security people try very hard to give me space.”

  “After some of our experiences over the past couple of years, I am just as happy to have them around, Karl.”

  He nodded. “I am forced to agree. And since we are going to Munich, we will need to stay alert. The Munich Faction is alive and well despite the best efforts of the SS.”

  “Do you believe there is a risk?” she asked.

  “There is always some risk,” he replied. “It is impossible to have a risk-free world. But with adequate security, we should be fine.”

  “I find it hard to believe that you haven’t run them to ground, Karl,” she said.

  “It is because they have supporters in the government, still. It is going to take us years to uproot all the unreconstructed Nazis. Herr Schloss refuses to arrest people on mere suspicion. We require evidence. Unfortunately, I agree. It makes our job harder, but taking the long view, it is the only way to do it.”