by Ward Wagher
“I think you are a defeatist,” Himmler said. “You have already decided we cannot beat these untermenschen. And from your comments on the Final Solution, I believe you are a Jew Lover as well.”
Schloss continued to glare at Himmler. The room grew very quiet, and the other people waited to see what would happen. The two principle occupants matched glare for glare.
Finally, Himmler wilted slightly. “Perhaps I have been hasty.”
Schloss eased back down into the chair. “Mein Herren, let us examine this note from the Americans and see if we can find a way to defuse the situation.”
Everyone relaxed visibly and Ribbentrop cleared his throat. “I believe I have some suggestions along that line.”
Schloss heaved an internal sigh. He did not feel quite ready for a final confrontation with Himmler. But it was definitely coming.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
July 2, 1941, 6 PM
Nazi Party Headquarters, Berlin
“You cannot continue to goad the Reichsprotektor like that,” Goering said.
Schloss leaned back in his chair and gazed across the desk at the Reichsmarshall. Goering had showed up at party headquarters following the meeting of the government council, and marched uninvited into Schloss's office.
“I am trying to get him to think, Hermann. And he is not doing so.”
“You must remember, Schloss, that Himmler is a dangerous man. Of course you do remember that. Everyone has noticed how you have increased your security.”
Schloss felt a moment's internal shock. While he hadn't gone out of his way to hide his increased security, he wasn't advertising it either. The way everyone in the government kept score, it would certainly be noticed. He looked at Goering and shrugged.
“Do you expect Himmler to move against you?” Goering continued.
“I certainly hope not,” Schloss replied. “It would impact the stability of the government, not to mention having a negative impact on Herr Himmler's health.”
Goering snorted. “You know; I believe you are serious.”
“I am serious. Do not misunderstand me, Herr Reichsmarshall, my mission is to protect and advance the Fatherland. We are in a much more precarious position than people realize. We would have lost a land war with Russia. We cannot take the English down without the Americans coming into the war.”
“But certainly the Americans could not stand against the Wehrmacht.”
“Couldn't they?” Schloss asked. “Given a good enough reason to go to war, the Americans will be every bit as bloody minded as the English.”
Goering shook his head. “I somehow feel you are four or five moves ahead of everybody else in the game, Herr Partieleiter.”
“As far as our enemies and potential enemies go, I certainly hope so.”
Goering shook his head. “I was embarrassed to get caught out like that in the meeting. I appreciate you rescuing me from my lack of planning.”
“Herr Reichsmarshall, in the areas under your responsibility you need to be four or five moves ahead of everyone else. I want the English to get tired of the war. This means that we should figure out what they are up to, and slap them hard every time they try to attack us. Draw up a list of targets that have great military value, but are away from the general populace. Each time they attack us, I want one of those targets pulverized.”
Goering nodded as he thought. “Yes. I can do that. We will lose aircraft, though. Some of those targets are well protected.”
“Then you have to be smarter. I have an idea.”
“Yes, Herr Partieleiter?”
Schloss tore a piece of paper out of his notebook. He took a pencil and rapidly sketched a design. “What I have in mind, Herr Reichsmarshall is an autonomous flying bomb. Something we can build quickly and inexpensively.”
“I assume we could use something like our auto-pilot mechanisms, but how would it navigate?”
“In the early stages, we could simply aim it in the right direction, or have it follow a compass.” Schloss sketched some more. “I suppose we could set a timer that would cause it to dive into the ground.”
“This is intriguing,” Goering said. “It would be very expensive, though.”
“Not necessarily,” Schloss said. “It only has to make one flight. You have some research establishments. Have them dig into this.”
“I understand, Herr Partieleiter. You certainly have some interesting ideas. Thank you.”
“And how goes the Messerschmidt jet fighter project?”
“They realize we are serious about it,” Goering said. “We are not too far away from having the first test flight of the airframe with the turbojets mounted. The engines are taking longer to perfect than we expected, however.”
“Keep me informed. If there are ways I can help, I will be glad to.”
Goering stood up. “Thank you, Herr Partieleiter. As always, conversations with you are illuminating.”
“Let's talk about north Africa,” Schloss said.
“We are continuing our investment of Malta,” Goering said. “If we can capture or neutralize the island, then the sea lanes will be much more open to support Rommel.”
“And if the Englanders reinforce?”
“I am confident we can stop any reinforcement efforts, Herr Partieleiter.”
Schloss thought about what the Reichsmarshall said. Goering had a history of bombastic claims that ultimately did not hold up. One of the reasons Hitler lost the war was that he believed Goering. And Goering failed repeatedly.
“Just like you told the Fuhrer the Luftwaffe would pound England into submission?”
Goering turned red. “I was not given the support I needed to accomplish the job, Herr Partieleiter. You remember the arguments we had, then.”
“And what excuses will you give when we fail to subdue Malta?” Schloss asked.
“We will not fail!” Goering shouted.
“Hermann.” Schloss dropped his voice.
Goering jolted back in his chair. “Yes, Herr Partieleiter.”
“We do not want to fail to take Malta out of the equation. I do not want to fail. So stop the grandiose proclamations. Every military action faces risks and challenges. I want you to tell me what we are facing in the Mediterranean.”
Goering was now subdued. “Very well, Herr Partieleiter. Do you have a map?”
“Rainer!” Schloss shouted.
“Yes, Herr Partieleiter?”
“I need a map of the Mediterranean.”
“At once, Herr Partieileiter.”
For the next hour Goering reviewed German operations in the Mediterranean. Schloss had come to the conclusion that the man had a good grasp of military tactics as well as logistics. At least when he wasn't strutting around as an overdressed wind bag.
Based upon his study of another world war, Schloss was able to suggest some changes that would hopefully catch the British off balance. He considered the wisdom of encouraging Goering to think straight. He could be a dangerous man.
“Well,” Schloss said, “I think we have done about all the damage we can accomplish for one afternoon.”
Goering stood up. “Herr Partieleiter, I thank you for your help and advice. You have encouraged me to think in new areas, and I believe we can accomplish great things for the Fatherland.”
Schloss stood up and handed the paper with his drawing to Goering. “Here, take this. It may be of great value to us.”
Goering bobbed his head. “Until next time, Herr Partieleiter.”
Schloss shook his head as the Reichsmarshall left the room. Goering was almost pathetic in his desire to please. Schloss almost felt sorry for Hitler, having been surrounded by so much incompetence. Himmler seemed to be the only one who truly knew what he was doing. And it was becoming increasingly obvious to Schloss that Himmler was going to have to be removed from the game somehow.
Schloss sat back down at his desk and looked at the accumulated paperwork with a frown. Ending up in another world, however it happened, d
id not relief him of toil. He was working harder than any time in his life. He felt like a bicyclist riding on ice, juggling live hand grenades. He would pay for a mistake with his life. He could imagine the epitaph: Heinrich Schloss, born 1947, died 1941.
And who could he share this with? Who would believe him? He mostly did not believe it himself. Yet... the opportunities! A chance to change the course of history in this world, wherever it was. All he had to do was introduce new ideas, and avoid the bad ones.
And what else do I need to think of? he asked himself.
He sat with his elbows on the desk and his hands propping his head, and looked morosely at the work. He was very tired. He looked up at the sound of a tap on the door, and Renate slipped in.
“You look as though you have had a rough day,” she said as she walked across the room.
“Not a bad day, I think,” he replied. “But it was very long.”
“Peter is working late on a project at the Foreign Ministry. I thought I would check to see if I could ride home with you.”
Schloss looked at his watch and then stood up. “You know. I have not seen the children all week.”
“Then now is a good time?”
“Rainer!” he shouted.
The adjutant stuck his head in the door. “Yes, Herr Partieleiter?”
“Have the car brought around. I'm going home.”
“At once. It will be good for you to have an evening at home.”
“I am not disposed to argue with you.”
He closed the door, and Schloss turned to his sister.
“And how was your day, my dear?”
“The usual. I do really appreciate your getting me a job downstairs. The bookkeeping gets dull after a while, though.”
He nodded towards his desk. “I understand entirely. I'm gone a little less than two days, and look what piles up.”
Rainer tapped on the door and opened it again. “Will you be leaving from your home to attend the Deputy Fuhrer's speech?”
Schloss muttered a few barnyard words under his breath. “I had forgotten about that.” He thought quickly. “Yes, I suppose I am. What time will I need to leave?”
“The speech is scheduled for 9 PM. You should leave your home at 8.”
Schloss turned to Renate. “We should get moving then. I want to have some time for a supper as well.”
“I will call Frau Marsden to tell her you are on the way,” Rainer said.
Renate smiled and touched Rainer on the shoulder. “Ever the efficient one. I do not believe my brother could survive without you.”
“Oh, I don't know,” he grinned. “Your brother seems to have this magical ability to attract keepers from out of the woodwork.”
Schloss snorted. “I have never heard you describe yourself as a wood elf, Karl, but I suppose it is apt.”
“Thank you ever so much, Herr Partieleiter. And your car will be in front presently.”
Schloss slapped Rainer on the back and turned to Renate. “Shall we?”
She turned to him as the rode the elevator to the lobby. “You really ought to plan a short vacation, Hennie.”
He looked at her. “Not you, too.”
“Seriously,” she continued, “do you look at yourself in the mirror? You are exhausted. It would do you good to get away for a while.”
“As I told Rainer, we need to get things settled down a bit more. Then we can discuss a vacation.”
“If I have never said this to you, my brother, I am very proud of you.”
Schloss felt himself blushing.
Renate chuckled and pulled her arm around him. “Poor Hennie. You never have learned how accept praise.”
“I am unworthy of it,” he said.
She sighed and turned to the front of the elevator door opened. The elevator operator watched as Schloss and Renate walked out into the lobby and shook his head. He was very glad he did not have the problems faced by the Partieleiter.
The Opel was waiting at the curb. A guard held the back door open to allow Renate and Schloss to climb in. The guard climbed into the front seat next to the driver, and the car pulled away from the curb. The chase car eased away from the curb to follow.
The traffic was surprisingly heavy, Schloss thought. With only a single bombing raid over Berlin in the past month, the people in the city were enjoying the summer evening. Along with the cars and horse-drawn wagons, quite a few people strolled on the sidewalks. No one seemed in any particular hurry, and Schloss leaned back to enjoy the ride.
“Peter was excited about whatever project detained him tonight,” Renate said.
“You cannot talk about it, but we are trying to open negotiations with the Americans.”
“I heard there was an article in the New York Times about a protest being lodged against us – because of the U-Boats.”
“This is essentially correct. There is more, though,” Schloss explained. “Churchill is doing everything possible to draw the Americans into the war. I think Roosevelt is looking for an excuse to do so.”
“What would happen if the Americans got into the war?” she asked.
“We would lose, eventually.”
“You can say that?”
He shook his head. “I had this argument today with Himmler. If we haven't subdued the English, what makes us think we can beat the Americans?”
“Is that what you are trying to do, Hennie?”
“What's that?”
She looked over at him under raised eyebrows, her dark hair swirling about her face. “Peter said you were trying to keep Germany from losing the war. Are things that bad?”
“Right now? No. But we haven't won, either. I want to do whatever I can to maintain status quo until we can get a new generation of weapons ready. And also do everything possible to prevent the war from widening.”
“Is it true we were going to attack Russia?”
“Where did you hear that?” he asked.
“Peter told me the foreign minister told him.”
Schloss pursed his lips in a silent whistle. “The foreign minister talks too much. The last thing we need is for Stalin to hear about it.”
“So it's true?”
He nodded. “If Peter wants to talk to me about it, that's fine. But caution him about his conversations. This is dangerous knowledge to have.”
“Oh, he understands. Herr Ribbentrop said he needed to know about this, and swore him to secrecy.”
“That makes me nervous, Renate...”
Schloss glanced out the left side of the car as he was speaking. Another car was easing alongside in the next lane. The back window was open and the barrel of an MP40 submachine gun appeared.
“Get down!” Schloss yelled, pushing Renate off the seat and onto the floor of the car. At the same time, he struggled to pull his pistol from the holster inside his jacket.
He saw three quick flashes from the gun, and the side windows shattered. Renate screamed. There was a burst of red, and their driver slumped over, apparently jamming the throttle. The car began to accelerate as the guard in the front seat tried to pull out his gun as well as steer the car.
Schloss got his pistol out and quickly emptied the clip into the other car. Behind them, the chase car pulled out and rammed into the rear of the car holding the gunman. This was intended to distract the gunman, Schloss thought, but it caused the other car to swerve into them. The guard in the front seat of Schloss's car lost his battle with the steering wheel, and the Opel jumped the curb and slammed into a light post.
Renate screamed again at the impact and Schloss was tossed off the seat and landed on top of her. A moment later the door on the passenger side was pulled open.
“Herr Partieleiter, Herr Partieleiter, are you injured?”
Schloss grabbed the front seatback and pulled himself up. “I'm fine. Renate, are you okay?”
“Hennie, what has happened?”
Schloss glanced in the front at the carnage. The driver was missing part of his head. The guard had gon
e partially through the windshield and it looked as though the glass had cut his throat.
“Just stay down for a moment, Renate,” he said. “I want to make sure things are safe.”
Schloss looked out at the two men from the chase car, who were now standing on the sidewalk. “Did you stop them?”
“No, Herr Partieleiter, they got away. Our instructions are to stay with you.”
“Very well.” He nodded towards the front of the car. “Help me with the girl.”
Fortunately, he thought, they were quick thinking. “We should get off the street for the moment,” one of the men said.
Schloss slid out of the car, then reached in. “Come, Renate. Let's get you out of the car.”
She lay on the floor of the car covered with the glittering shards from the window. He brushed the pieces of glass off her arm, and then eased her up. She started to turn her head towards the front.
“Don't look,” he said.
She stood up on the sidewalk as several of the passersby stopped to gawk. She leaned close to Schloss.
“Himmler?” she whispered.
“I don't know. Come.”
“You are going to have to do something about him, I think. That swine Bormann was just the beginning, wasn't it?”
“Here is not the place, Renate,” he said.
“But I am right, am I not?”
The guard from the other car stepped up. “You were fortunate, Herr Partieleiter. His gun jammed.”
“I wondered about that,” Schloss said.
“I saw the gun kick back from the recoil and the magazine hit the edge of the window.”
Schloss grunted. “The magazine?”
The guard nodded. “Those MP40's are nice weapons, but they they will jam if you even look cross-eyed at the magazine.”
And I pulled out my pistol instinctively and fired, he thought. I have never fired a gun in my life. I just don't understand this place.
They stepped into a flower shop and Schloss pointed to the startled shopkeeper, who had been staring out the window.
“Your telephone, please.”
