by Wagher, Ward
Model concluded that his successes on the battlefield were due to his gaming scenarios extensively in planning for a battle. It allowed him to make quick decisions in response to new information. As always, the key was making the enemy react to him. One thing was sure; he had nothing to lose. And if Stalin had given orders for him to be delivered to Moscow alive, he could probably achieve quite a lot. He suspected, though, that his captors would have no problem killing the members of his staff.
Model then considered whether he had an obligation to keep his staff alive. Considering what they would find when they arrived in Moscow, that might be delaying the inevitable. He had no problem expending lives to achieve a military objective. That was a coin he spent parsimoniously, but did so when necessary.
Klein had returned to his seat on the floorboards next to the general. Model leaned over to speak softly to him.
“Pass the word to the staff. If the opportunity to escape arises, they must take it. They must run as far and as hard as possible. They must be absolutely ruthless. Understood?”
Recognizing the order from his general, Klein immediately replied. “Jawohl, Herr General.”
With that decision out of the way, Model began planning an escape. They would need to exploit the smallest of chances and improvise. There would be only one chance, and he would have to accept that, whatever the odds.
The Russians had made one mistake; they had not chained the prisoners together. It allowed a much greater degree of mobility and would give them the chance to scatter at the right time.
Fifteen kilometers to the east of Minsk, Sergeant Friedmann and Corporal Uwe Baumann studied the work crews as they struggled to repair the bomb damage to the rail line quickly. Friedmann admired the ingenuity of the Russians. They had set up spotlights around the site and moved in the tools and equipment in the late afternoon. They continued after darkness fell. He was convinced they would complete the job before daybreak. And then the traffic would begin moving again.
The Russians were adept at moving vast amounts of materiel via rail. The Russians cleverly ran all their trains at the same speed, which allowed them a high traffic density. On the other hand, interruptions in the traffic, such as they currently observed, tended to cause far more significant impact than would be seen in Western Europe.
“Okay, Uwe,” Friedmann said softly, “Let’s make our way to our objective.”
“Right,” Corporal Baumann replied.
The two men shouldered their rifles and packs, then moved further eastward, paralleling the track. Friedman had identified a narrow gully that bisected the roadbed. It was too deep to allow a culvert underneath, so a rudimentary timber framework bridged the ravine.
“How long of a fuse?” Baumann asked as they tied the dynamite to the beams.
“Give me about two minutes worth,” Friedmann replied.
“We won’t get very far, Sarge.”
“I don’t plan to. As soon as the bridge blows, they will be searching for the partisans. We have our Russian uniforms. We are going to assist the train crew after the wreck.”
The corporal chuckled softly. “And there will be other opportunities.”
“Corporal, you are so right!”
Back to the west, the glow of the work lights ceased as the track crew broke down their equipment.
“Get ready, Uwe,” Friedmann whispered. “We need to get just far enough away so that a rail car doesn’t land on us.”
“That would ruin our morning, wouldn’t it?”
In the distance, they heard a train whistle. Almost concurrently, the two men heard a whistle to the east, as though the two locomotives were talking. Once the repairs were complete, the Russians wasted no time in getting the traffic moving from both directions.
Friedmann watched in the distance as the glow of the locomotive headlight began to raise a false dawn.
“I believe we may get two trains for the price of one this morning. Please go ahead and light the fuse.”
A chuckling Uwe Baumann pulled a match out of the small metal container and struck it against his boot. Once the fuse was alight, the two Germans quickly trotted away from the track to a small copse several hundred yards to the south of the rail line.
In the boxcar, there being little else to do, Model continued formulating plans as the train jerked into movement. He frankly had no hope of accomplishing anything, but it was an interesting intellectual exercise. Klein had carefully passed instructions to the men in the boxcar. All were officers and had no problems comprehending what Model had in mind. Model was sorry about the crushing disappointment that the men would ultimately face, but at least he had them thinking again.
Ten minutes later they were jolted by a sharp bang, and then the dull, grinding ride turned into utter chaos. Their eastbound locomotive dropped into the gully, which brought it to an immediate halt. The rail cars slewed off the track or piled up on one another. The westbound train had gotten about half its length across the bridge when it blew. But the eastbound cars caused the westbound train to derail.
An empty tank car had enough momentum to split the boxcar apart, spilling Model and his staff into the rail bed. He leaped to his feet.
“Go, go, go!” he yelled. “Come, Georg.”
And General Model and his adjutant sprinted into the night.
From their vantage point, Friedmann and Baumann looked with satisfaction upon their night’s work.
“It’s going to take them days to clean up the mess,” Baumann commented.
“Oh, they will do it a bit quicker than that. Let’s go see if we can help.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
August 5, 1943; 10 AM
Hall of the Heroes
Berlin, Germany
“We have got to quit meeting like this,” Peter Schreiber muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Schloss.
They were sitting on the platform with the other Nazi dignitaries for Goering’s funeral. Peter was once again tormenting Schloss while he wasn’t able to do something about it. He was able to keep his mirth in check by looking at the front row of the gathered throng where the distraught Emmy Goering sat, along with little Etta. While he had mixed emotions about the Reichsmarshall’s death, it tore his heart out to see the man’s wife and the little girl in such grief.
“So long as we do not have the Berlin Gauleiter speaking today,” Schloss muttered back to Peter.
He was rewarded by hearing Peter choke in reaction. During the dedication of the Hall of Heroes for the Fuhrer, a long-winded Felix Mendel had utterly ruined the timing of the ceremony. Mendel dragged things so that he was interrupted by the Luftwaffe fly-by roaring through in the middle of the speech. The planners for today’s gathering had scheduled another flyby, and Schloss was determined to have things go correctly this time.
And it was time for Schloss to speak. He paced slowly to the podium and surveyed the crowd.
“My friends. It seems that once again, we lay to rest one of our heroes. A man of great courage who stood in the gap to protect the Reich. A man who tirelessly worked to support the armed forces and the government. A man who cared for the people.”
Once again, I am forced into the hypocrisy of the German Nazi supermen, he thought as he read the speech. Hermann was not the worst of these monsters but was still not a very nice human being.
“We hail those brave leaders who brought greatness to the Reich, who gave us a united Europe. And who brought us peace. We grieve the loss of those who stood beside as we fought the Communist menace, a battle still to be decided.”
And if we don’t get a firm grip on this battle, the Reich will land on the trash heap of history.
“And so, my friends, on this day we grieve, but we also give credit to where it is due, and we hail Goering.”
Schloss rendered the Nazi salute and stood as the crowd shouted Heil Goering. He saw many in the crowd weeping. Hermann was beloved, mostly by those who didn’t know him. As the people cried out, the massive flight of Luf
twaffe bombers and fighters thundered overhead. He watched and then waited for the sounds subside.
“Thank you for being here today,” he said.
And he turned and left the podium.
§ § §
August 5, 1943; 2 PM
Government Council Chamber
Berlin, Germany
Two hours later, the government met in the council chamber in the Reich Chancellery. The mood was subdued, although not out of grief. Nobody in the room had much cared for the Reichsmarshall. Schloss decided the men were somber because Goering’s death reminded them of their own mortality.
“I suppose we should start with a report on the war,” Schloss stated. “Heinz, if you would be so good.”
“Of course, Herr Reich Chancellor.” Guderian opened a folder and cleared his throat.
“We are currently holding the Russians at the line roughly due north and south of Warsaw. They have not been able to advance. With the loss of Model’s forces, it would be dangerous for us to try another counterattack.”
“From our questioning of prisoners, we concluded that the Red Army expected to reach Warsaw in the first week of the war, and Poznan during the second. Under their timetable, they would have expected to be knocking on the door of Berlin about now.”
“Since we mobilized, we will have several divisions coming online in the next two weeks. Rommel wants to strengthen the forces on the frontlines before we suggest any offensives. On the other hand, we do not want to put ourselves into a position where we must react to them.”
“What is the logistics situation?” Schloss asked.
“We have ample supplies of small arms and ammunition. We are in good shape with artillery rounds and ammunition for the tanks. We have lost thirty of the Fortresses in combat and are running short of the two-hundred-kilogram bombs.”
Schloss looked over at Ribbentrop. “Joachim, are we making any progress on buying more bombers from the Americans?”
“It appears that the supply has dried up,” the Minister of Commerce replied. “Now that the Americans have gained a foothold in Hawaii, they are using everything that will fly to move cargo over there. I received a note of apology from the Americans. They indicated they would pay cash for the items they purchase from us.”
“Getting the cash would be good,” Schloss said, “but what will we do about the bombers?”
“Heinkel is getting close to starting production on the Fortress, though. They have promised several prototypes within the next ninety days. The actual production line will not be fully in place until the end of the year. But they have assured me of a steady trickle of what are really prototypes. But they should be combat-ready after some testing.”
“Okay, Heinz,” Schloss said, “it is important everyone understands the urgency of getting production going.”
“We have the workers putting in three shifts and seven day work weeks on this project.”
“Thank you. Now, what is the outlook for the war?”
“We think the Russians have largely exhausted themselves and are now working to rebuild their divisions. We hurt them badly on the first day of the war, and they had to use their ready reserves to maintain momentum. We should be eyeing some opportunities except for our recent loss.”
“But we cannot sit and wait for them to attack us again,” Rainer said.
“That is very true, Herr Reichsprotektor,” Guderian answered. “We are switching our focus to what could be called unconventional warfare. Colonel Gehlen has had a team successfully working behind the lines raising mayhem, so we know it is possible. We are going to do what we can to disrupt Russian supply lines and what have you.”
“Will that win the war?” Peter asked.
“Not by itself, no. Rommel is planning some harassing attacks on the front where we can pull back quickly. The goal is to generate casualties for the Russians at minimal cost to us. If successful, we can tie their bootlaces together when they do attempt an attack.”
“The Russian oilfields are too far away for us to bomb, correct?” Schloss asked.
“That is correct,” Guderian replied. “We are, however, targeting them with our unconventional teams. The Russians seem to have no problem setting the things on fire all by themselves, and we hope that we can provide a little encouragement.”
“You know,” Schloss mused, “Churchill unwittingly did us a big favor by sending their teams into the Fatherland during our war with the English. It is a valuable tactic to use in the war.”
Guderian laughed. “Very true, although it is going to be a while before we finish rebuilding the Mungsten bridge.”
“Anything else, Herr General?” Schloss prompted.
“Nothing exceptional at this time, Herr Reich Chancellor.”
Schloss looked over at Kirche, who had the agenda.
“The next item,” Kirche noted, “is choosing a new Reichsmarshall.”
Schloss smiled sadly at those gathered in the room. “I don’t know that any of us liked Herr Goering. But I am not sure how we will get along without him. I suppose what I wanted to do today was to hear suggestions on a good replacement. General Guderian has been emphatic that it is not him.”
“I can prosecute the war, meine Herren,” Guderian said. “or I can manage the armed forces. I cannot do both.”
“True,” Peter said, “but you are still the best candidate.”
Guderian quirked an eyebrow and gave his trademark smirk. “I fervently hope I have talked the Reich Chancellor out of that course.”
“With the loss of Model, we should not pull our best generals out of the way.”
“What about von Rundstedt?” Ribbentrop suggested.
Guderian tilted his head. “He is apolitical and not prone to stupidity. He does not like me, but that does not worry me.”
“Could you work for him?” Gehlen asked.
“I have in the past. What about you, Reinhard?”
“I have no problems with that. Von Rundstedt is a soldier’s soldier, I think.”
“Would he do it?” Schloss asked.
Guderian shrugged. “Who knows? He retired in 1938, and the Fuhrer brought him back. He was planning to retire after we finished the English war. We also need to consider those who believe they deserve the post.”
“And that would be…” Schloss rotated his fingers to indicate to Guderian that he should continue.
“Erhard Milch thinks we will give him the post. I heard he was visiting Goering’s office this week to consider renovations before he moves in.”
“And he would be unhappy being passed over?”
Gehlen nodded. “I know he would be. However, he has been effective as Goering’s deputy. His primary focus has been the Luftwaffe. He is a good administrator.”
“What are your reservations, then?”
Gehlen hesitated. “I feel uncomfortable criticizing a fellow officer.”
Schloss tapped the table with his finger. “Come now, Reinhard. By sitting in these meetings, you agree to give your unvarnished opinion for the good of the Reich. And that summarizes my feelings about Milch. He may be too political.”
Gehlen nodded to acknowledge Schloss’s point. “Please excuse me, Herr Reich Chancellor. I should have realized that.”
Rainer raised a finger, and Schloss nodded to him.
“I wonder if we might be repeating some of our problems with von Rundstedt. His health is not great. Milch is competent. And nobody will be a perfect fit.”
“That is true, Karl,” Schloss replied. “Are there any other candidates to consider?”
He waited and nobody spoke. “Given these two for consideration, what is your opinion?”
“Milch,” Rainer stated.
“I believe I would have to go with Milch,” Peter said.
Schloss looked over at the Minister of Commerce. “Joachim?”
“I like von Rundstedt. But I think Milch is probably the better choice.
“Reinhard?” Schloss asked.
“I think I would have to go with Milch.”
“Very well,” Schloss said. “Kirche, please ask General Milch to come to my office tomorrow morning. Let’s keep this confidential until I speak with him, please.”
The others nodded.
“Is there anything else today?” Schloss asked.
“The Berliner Zeitung,” Peter stated.
The Berlin Times had published an article echoing some of the sentiments of the New York Times articles on Germany’s persecution of the Jews. The German paper was more respectful of the government and focused on the efforts made to make things right with the Jews.
Schloss pinched the bridge of his nose. He then looked up at the group sitting around the table.
“I had hoped my letter to the editor of the American paper would have settled things down. Apparently, I was wrong.”
“The American press has a tradition of unrelenting pursuit of a story,” Peter said. “The New York Times is one of the most aggressive. It seems that your letter assuaged the concerns of the American government.”
Schloss nodded. “I don’t know if there is anything we can do about the Americans. I hope that if we continue to be a good trading partner, some of this will recede.”
“What about the Berlin Times?” Rainer asked. “Should we warn them?”
“No!” Schloss stated. “The best thing we can do is to give them complete freedom to print as they see fit. I refuse to threaten them in any way. Peter, I would like you to grant an interview with the paper. Sooner or later we all know we will have to deal with the burning bag of Scheisse Hitler left on our doorstep. You can let them know that we will deal with this once we get this war out of the way.”
“Very well,” Peter replied.
Schloss sighed. “You know, things like this have a way of ruining my entire day. Thank you for your time, meine Herren.”
