Accidental Nazi

by Ward Wagher

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The waiting seemed like hours as the U-Boat eased towards periscope depth. It was like a great pelagic shark as it swam upwards. Finally, the the hydrophone operator stiffened.

  “I have a bearing, Sir. He is at fifteen degrees relative.”

  “Mark,” Detmar said.

  “Mark,” the exec repeated.

  “What is our depth?” Detmar asked.

  “Fifty meters.”

  “Open doors one and four.”

  “Doors one and four opening. Doors open.”

  “Torpedo status?”

  “Torpedoes nominal in all respects.”

  “Fire one,” Detmar said.

  The boat shuddered as the torpedo left the tube.

  “Fire four,” Detmar said.

  “Torpedos one and four are running hot,” the exec said.

  “Helm, hard to starboard. Flank speed.”

  “Sir, my helm is hard over. Coming to flank speed.”

  “Make your depth 200 meters.”

  As the U-Boat sped up it responded more quickly to the diving planes. It swooped down to the ordered depth quickly.

  “He just spotted the torpedoes, Sir,” the hydrophone operator said. “He kicked his drives wide open.”

  Detmar removed the headphones. The force of the explosion coming through the headphones could shatter eardrums.

  “Sir,” the hydrophone operator said suddenly. “That's not the English destroyer. That's the American.”

  “What?”

  “I can tell. The American had one screw that must've been out of balance and made a slight wowwing sound. I can hear it now.”

  “Get the phones off,” Detmar ordered.

  The hydrophone operator had just removed his headphones when the rumble of an explosion carried through the hull. The captain swore.

  “All ahead one-third,” he ordered. “Maintain course.”

  “We are now ahead one-third, Sir,” the Helmsman replied.

  Detmar swore again. “Well, Hans, that puts a perfect cap on the day.”

  “Yes, Sir. What will we do?”

  He shook his head. “I have difficulty feeling too sorry for the Americans. When they persisted in playing these games, everyone knew it was a matter of time before somebody scratched some paint. But, this was a major error on my part.”

  “What now, Sir?”

  “Let's get away from here. We really need to surface and get the batteries charged. After that, I guess we'll try to get through the Straights. I expect when we get to Naples there will be a new captain waiting for this boat.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  November 7, 1941; 2 PM

  Reich Chancellery, Berlin

  “So what do you plan to do now?”

  “I beg your pardon, Herr Reichsprotektor?” Schloss asked.

  “Now that our magnificent navy has managed to drive the Americans into an incoherent rage, what are your plans?”

  “Frankly I am open to suggestion,” Schloss said. “As you just said, our magnificent navy has indeed thrown a wrench into the works.”

  “Now see here,” Goering said suddenly, “we do not know it was our navy, or even the circumstances. I will admit it is very likely that the American destroyer was sunk by one of our U-Boats. But we have not had any contact with either of the boats in that area since. And if an American warship was in that area, it could have easily been mistaken for the English. That area of the Atlantic near Gibraltar is lousy with English ships.”

  “As you all know, I have never been particularly taken with the Partieleiter's strategy to keep American out of the war,” Himmler said. “However, I did not oppose it. That being the case, what are we going to do?”

  Didn't oppose? Schloss thought. What else would we call his objections? I wonder if anyone will call that to his attention. I certainly have no need to.

  “If your objections to this policy weren't opposition, I don't know what you would call it,” Hess said.

  Mein Gott, Hess, why don't you just run outside and play in traffic? Schloss thought. Himmler doesn't like you anyway.

  “All I am saying that is when the decision was made, I dropped my opposition. The apparent failure of this policy will not help Germany.”

  “This bickering is not helping,” Goebbels said. “We should, instead, focus on a way forward. While I was not initially in favor, I must confess I am disappointed in this turn of events.”

  “I believe we should do whatever is necessary to settle the Americans down,” Schloss said. “I know they are unhappy about this, but perhaps we can pull them back from the brink.”

  “And if they don't?” Himmler asked.

  “I believe the Japanese are preparing action against the Americans in the Pacific. We could become embroiled in a global war.”

  “Surely it would be easier to defeat the Americans if they are also fighting the Japanese,” Himmler said.

  “How would we defeat them, Herr Reichsprotektor?” Schloss asked. “We have not been able to put troops on English soil, and the Americans are far stronger than the English. At best we could resume unrestricted U-Boat warfare, but our successes there have been limited.”

  “A new generation of weapons might turn that around,” Goering said.

  “It might,” Schloss said. “But we are two years away from seeing them in any numbers.”

  “And meanwhile we stop sinking their ships,” Himmler said.

  “We've had this argument before,” Schloss said. “Numerous times. Let's come back to the American destroyer. Their captain was apparently a fool and was chasing one of our U-Boats. It was late in the afternoon, so I suspect the U-Boat's batteries were low. Our captain probably assumed he was being hunted by an English destroyer and decided to take the shot.”

  “That sounds reasonable,” Ribbentrop said. “So how do we approach it?”

  “We tell them we are very sorry for the loss and offer to pay some kind of reasonable reparation,” Schloss said. “We can also point out that the American ship was acting belligerently and the U-Boat captain made an honest mistake.”

  “That might work,” Ribbentrop said. “Maybe if we give things a chance to die down, we can avoid more serious repercussions.”

  “There is still a strong anti-war sentiment in America,” Goebbels said. “If we make every effort to sound reasonable and apologetic, I think we can shift the conversation.”

  “If we are agreed then,” Schloss said, “We can have the Foreign Minister prepare a response. Perhaps we could sound out the American Consul on appropriate reparations.”

  The men around the table looked at one another and nodded, some barely and some more vigorously.

  “Fine, then,” Schloss said, “make it so, Herr Von Ribbentrop.”

  Hess looked down at his agenda. “Very well. You have before the preliminary numbers on the economy for the year. Herr Reichsmarshall, if you would be so kind as to summarize them for us.”

  Goering cleared his throat, and began his ponderous explanation of the economy. Schloss had already glanced at the report and decided things were not too bad. The cancellation of Barbarossa was a definite help. Goering was able to convince the armed forces to grudgingly release a half million men from uniform, and they were helping things by being back to work in the German industry.

  The air war between Germany and England had eased off, with both sides mainly engaging in nuisance strikes. While the propaganda war was as vitriolic as ever, both sides seemed happy not to have somebody shooting at them. Schloss was certainly satisfied with things. Trade through the neutral countries was picking up and the German populace was beginning to see more consumer goods on the store shelves.

  Schloss had convinced Goering to loosen up a bit in the occupied territories as well. The theory was that if times got better, the people in France and Poland would be less aggressive in resisting the Germans. Schloss expected little in the way of change from the conquered people, but even a slight improvement
was welcome. Now if they could only convince the Americans the attack on their destroyer was a mistake.

  As the Reichsmarshall droned on, Schloss mentally counted the windows in the Fuhrer’s meeting room. After several months he was intimately familiar with the details of the place. He had grown to loathe it. It represented to him the evil that intertwined itself in the German government and he was trapped in the middle of it.

  # # #

  November 7, 1941; 7 PM

  Nazi Party Headquarters, Berlin

  Schloss looked up at the tap on the door, and then smiled as his sister stepped into the room. He then rubbed his forehead to try to quell the headache that had been tormenting him the entire afternoon.

  “Are you planning to work all night, Hennie?” she asked.

  “No. If you are suggesting that it is time for me to go home, I would take it as wise advice.”

  “I don't know if I would call it advice,” she said. “More along the lines of an order.”

  He stood up and clicked his heels together. “I hear and obey, Frau Schreiber. Woe be to those who fall afoul of my sister.”

  He thought once again about the remarkable circumstances which gave him a sister as well as a family. On the whole, trading his other life in postwar Berlin for this was a great improvement, in spite of the danger. After thirty-seven years he had discovered people who genuinely cared for him, even loved him. For him it was ambrosia.

  Renate stepped towards him shaking her fist. “And someone in this room might be the first to fall afoul of me.”

  He held up his hands and laughed. “Mercy, Frau Schreiber. How would I even consider such a heinous activity?”

  She chuckled and threw her arms around him. “I am so glad this job has not changed you, dear brother.”

  “Don't be so sure,” he replied. “Each day seems to try my patience more.”

  “Considering who you are forced to work with, I would say you have the patience of a saint.”

  While he enjoyed basking in the attention of those who had become dear to him, he was still uncomfortable with praise. But he also enjoyed the closeness of his sister.

  “Since you have been so persuasive, I suggest we make our way home. Frau Marsden will be delighted to serve me a meal that has not grown stale in the kitchen.”

  “I hope the shock is not too much for her.”

  “I have not seen anything shock her,” Schloss said. “I don't know if she exhibits presence of mind, or just sheer bloody mindedness.”

  Renate rolled her tongue around in her cheek. “I'm not sure which, however she is not to be trifled with. That's for sure.”

  Schloss walked over to the door and opened it. “Rainer, have the car brought around. It's time to go home.”

  “At once, Herr Partieleiter,” he replied.

  Schloss then stepped behind his desk. “Please excuse me for a minute. I have some documents to lock up. Rainer gets upset with me when I leave them lying around.”

  “That's because Karl is another of your minders, Hennie,” she said with a smile.

  “I'll tell him you said he's an old woman.”

  “He told me he believes you think that.”

  Schloss picked up the stack of papers and jogged them together, then looked up at Renate. “What else has Karl told you, my dear?”

  “Only that you feel constrained to carry everyone's burdens along with your own.”

  “Ha,” Schloss said as he slid the papers into a portfolio. “Let's call it what it is. It's the responsibility and it is crushing. And you know why.”

  “Karl carries it as well,” she said. “You are not alone in this, Hennie.”

  Schloss stopped what he was doing and looked at her again. “And I feel guilty because I'm probably going to get all of you killed. Himmler and his minions are murderous swine. If I was smart, I would have you and Peter sent back to Argentina and send the children with you.”

  “And you know why you cannot do that. Himmler would immediately move heaven and earth to have you killed... because you would have nothing to lose.”

  He shook his head. “Himmler is trying to have me killed anyway. I fear if he succeeds, he will immediately have you and Peter put into the camps along with the children.”

  “And Gisela.”

  “And Gisela,” he repeated. “I don't know what I was thinking when I started seeing her. It ranks as one of the more insane things I have done.”

  “Don't think that,” she said. “She understands the risks and willingly accepts them. If you didn't try to protect us, you wouldn't be you. But short of leaving Germany, there is little we can do. The smart thing for us is to do what we can to make you successful.”

  She had sat down in the chair across from his desk as he tried to organize the papers on his desk. She watched as he picked up and then set down several documents.

  “You really don't know how to organize this stuff, do you?” she asked.

  He gave her a sheepish look. “Karl comes in a couple of times each week to try to organize things for me. It's probably not nearly enough.”

  “Why have you not hired a private secretary, Hennie? You're the head of the entire Nazi Party. Most of the Gauleiters have secretaries.”

  “I just never seemed to get around to it. There is always one more thing to do.”

  “Let me talk to Karl about it. It is no wonder you are working yourself to death...”

  She was interrupted by the sound of gun fire outside the office building.

  “What is going on?” She started to stand.

  “Don't go near the window,” Schloss yelled. “There are probably bullets flying everywhere.”

  He stepped around the desk and pulled her over to the door and thrust her into the outer office.

  One of the office workers stood up. “What is happening, Herr Partieileiter?”

  “I don't know. It sounds like a gun fight in the street below. I suggest no one leave the office until the security people give us clearance.”

  When the sound of running feet carried from the hallway, Schloss pulled out his pistol and walked quickly to the door into the hallway. A group of fifteen Nazi Party guards burst from the stairwell. These were people hand-picked by Rainer for Schloss's security.

  “Please wait in the office, Herr Partieleiter,” one of them said. “We are not sure what is happening downstairs.”

  “Where is Rainer?”

  “I do not know. He stepped out of the building when your car arrived. It was right after that the shooting started.”

  “Not Karl,” Renate said, holding her hand to her throat.

  “Has anyone called the police?” Schloss asked.

  “I called for reinforcements from the party security battalion, Herr Partieleiter. I want to make sure the building is secure. Whenever the Gestapo get here, things will become unpredictable.”

  Schloss turned to Renate. “Please call Frau Marsden. There is no telling when we are going to get home tonight.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  November 7, 1941; 7:30 PM

  Nazi Party Headquarters, Berlin

  It was forty minutes before the party security allowed Schloss to make his way downstairs. They kept the rest of the employees and Renate in the office. Once more Schloss stepped out onto a sidewalk littered with blood stains and broken glass. Rainer's assistant walked over to him.

  “It could have been far worse, Herr Partieleiter.”

  “What's the butcher's bill?” he asked.

  “Herr Rainer is in the hospital. He took a bullet in the shoulder. He was the only one of our people injured.”

  “And the attackers?” Schloss asked.

  “They are all dead,” the assistant said. “It seems we are getting better faster than they are.”

  “And who are they, mein Herr?”

  “No identification, Herr Partieleiter. But they looked like SS.”

  A sullen, porcine looking man in a trench coat walked up. He held up an aluminum disk identify
ing him as a Gestapo agent.

  “Once more it seems trouble is following you around, Herr Partieleiter.”

  “So, it seems,” Schloss replied. “Why have you people not been able to identify who keeps trying to kill me?”

  The Gestapo man shrugged. “I cannot answer that question, Herr Partieleiter. I can assure you we are doing our best.”

  Schloss wondered if the man was intentionally being elliptical. There was no question in Schloss's mind that the SS was behind all of the attempts. Himmler was not in a position to challenge him strongly during the government meetings. However, he had almost unlimited resources at his disposal, and it seemed he was using them to keep Schloss off balance at the very least.

  Schloss nodded to the Gestapo man. “Thank you for your attention.” He turned to the party security man. “Is it safe to bring my sister down so we can go home?”

  “If you could wait a few minutes, Herr Partieleiter, and we will have another car here for you. I have also arranged for a heavier escort. I thought it wise in view of the events.”

  “I appreciate your initiative. As soon as is practical, please let me know the condition of Herr Rainer.”

  “Of course, Herr Partieleiter.”

  Schloss was tense during the ride home. He wondered why Himmler, and it had to be Himmler, would not follow up an attempt on his life with a second attack from another direction. It seemed the work of an amateur. And if Reinhard Heydrich was involved, it was certainly not being run by an amateur. It was a relief to walk into his house and close the door.

  # # #

  November 7, 1941; 8:30 PM

  Schloss Residence, Charlottenburg, Berlin

  “Is all well, Herr Schloss?” Frau Marsden asked.

  “Karl was injured and is in the hospital. I do not know how critically.”

  “When you are going to bring a stop to this?” she asked.

  Schloss shook his head. “Whoever is doing this is being subtle.”