Accidental Nazi

by Ward Wagher

  “I agree, Rudolf, that something like this would be popular.” At least until the people figured out what an airhead he is. “But have you thought of the possible consequences?”

  “Why, I believe it would restore some much needed legitimacy to what we are trying to accomplish.”

  “And what, do you suppose, would be the Reichsprotektor's reaction to such an action, Rudolf?”

  Hess cocked his head. “Why, I think in time he would see the wisdom of such a move.”

  I must think of a way to disabuse him of this idea. The little fool has no idea of what he is playing with.

  “Listen to me, Rudolf, and listen carefully. You are too valuable to the Fatherland to waste yourself on such an action.”

  “What do you mean, Herr Partieleiter?”

  “Himmler tolerates you because you serve a useful purpose to him at the moment. The truth of the matter is he hates you.”

  “Surely not!”

  “Think about it, Rudolph. Think about how the Reichsprotektor looks at you.” Come on, come on, you idiot, pay attention.

  “I do not understand.”

  That does not surprise me. I need to phrase this in a way he will immediately accept.

  “As I said, think about it, Rudolf. You represent a threat to his own ambitions. I have managed to hold Himmler in check so far, but I don't know if I can protect you if you become the Fuhrer. You would become target number one for the SS.”

  “Surely you are exaggerating,” Hess said. “I know he has been unhappy with me a few times.”

  “Rudolf,” Schloss said patiently. “Himmler is a dangerous man. A very dangerous man.” And you are a pigmy compared to him, although I cannot tell you that. “He sits in his chair like a serpent. When the opportunity comes, he will lash out against you, and there will be nothing I can do about it. I cannot be any plainer than that.”

  Hess stared at Schloss for a while, then looked down at his coffee. He looked up again. “But I think I could contribute so much to the Reich if I were the Fuhrer.”

  Schloss helped himself to a streusel and took advantage of the time to think carefully. Hess's problem was not that he was stupid. He was actually very bright. But he didn't understand how people thought, and he couldn't read people. And his nutty ideas were the result of a questing brain, Schloss thought. If he didn't handle this carefully, there was no telling what Hess would do.

  “Rudolf, I need you right where you are,” Schloss said. “You actually have more power where you sit right now. More influence.”

  “Really?” the man asked. “How can that be?”

  “Rudolf, those who can assume and wield absolute power are rare. Herr Hitler had it. Stalin has it. And that's about it. Mussolini is much more constrained. And so would you be.”

  “I hadn't thought of that.”

  “Remember how you and I have planned the activities of the government. We are really much more effective because we are working behind the scenes. You are surely aware of how many things we are doing that never show up on your meeting agendas. You would lose that invisibility if you were the Fuhrer.”

  It appeared Hess was thinking. “You may be right, Herr Partieleiter. But, it seems so wrong-headed.”

  “What is more important – the Fatherland or you being Fuhrer?”

  “I... I never thought about it that way. I just thought I could help the Fatherland more if I were in charge.”

  “You wouldn't be in charge, Rudolf. Do you really think Himmler and Goering would listen to you?”

  “I just assumed...”

  “Don't assume,” Schloss said quietly. “Think! I know you are an intelligent man. Think. Himmler hasn't acted against you because he doesn't know how I will react. I don't think I can protect you beyond where you are at, right now.”

  Hess took a large gulp of the coffee. “You have given me much to think about, Herr Partieleiter.”

  I fervently hope I have. God help us all if this little idiot tries to sit himself in Hitler's chair. I don't care much for Herr Hess, but he does give me cover.

  “And now I need a favor from you, Herr Hess.”

  “And what would that be?” he asked warily.

  “Say nothing more about this for the time being. If at some time in the future it appears to make sense to elevate you, I give you my word I will support you.”

  Hess looked relieved. “Would you really.”

  “Of course I would. You are not only a valuable servant of the Reich; you are my friend. I would not deprive you of something you have earned and is rightfully yours.”

  Hess attempted to maintain a sober demeanor, but his lips quivered, and he broke into a broad grin. “Oh, thank you, Herr Partieleiter. That you are standing by me means more than I can express. Thank you. Thank you.”

  And why do I feel so guilty about lying to the poor fool? It's like I was playing head games with the village idiot! I am no better than the rest of these vermin.

  Hess was beaming when he left Schloss's office. Schloss was not. He looked around the office for a few moments, then got up and left the office to visit the toilet. He really didn't need to, but was still bothered by Hess. As he walked back into his outer office he noticed a shelf of bound volumes along one wall. He eased over to look at them. It was the Berlin city directory, with several volumes each for the previous ten years. Having something occur to him, he pulled the volume P – Zoff the shelf.

  “May I help you, Herr Partieleiter?” Margreth asked.

  “No, no,” he said. “I just wanted to look at something.”

  He retreated to his office carrying the volume and laid it on the desk in front of him. He quickly found his name and residence in Charlottenburg. In his world, his family had come from Kreuzberg in Berlin. His mother had survived the war, although the rest of her family had been killed. A Russian soldier had given her protection, shelter and food in exchange for warming his bed. And he knew little else about his family. His mother quickly put him into an orphanage as she was unable to care for him. And she had disappeared out of his life.

  And there were no people named Schloss in Kreuzberg. In fact, his was the only Schloss in the book. He shook his head. In this universe, or world, or whatever, he had no beginning. Oh, everyone who knew him well remembered his parents. But they weren't his parents.

  He was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of loss. He bit back a sob and closed his eyes tightly. And he wondered why he felt this way. He had left a sterile existence in a divided city and had come here. And really, he had come home to this place. He now had a family that loved him. And he had truly found love. Not just Gisela, although that was an important part of his life now, but also the children that were now in his care.

  He decided, perhaps, it was his frustration with his inability to make a clean start after the death of Hitler. A monstrous evil still stalked the land and would consume him and his family if he did not constantly guard against it. And he had to figure out how to destroy that evil and so save his land in this universe.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  November 19, 1941; 11 AM

  Nazi Party Headquarters, Berlin

  The party guards opened the double doors to the meeting room on the top floor of the Nazi Party Headquarters, and Schloss and Goering swept into the room. The four men standing around the table immediately straightened and face them.

  “The Reichsmarshall tells me you have something you would like us to see,” Schloss said, without introduction.

  “Of course, Herr Partieleiter,” the tall balding man said. “I am Willi Messerschmitt. It is an honor to meet you.”

  Schloss shook his hand. “I have heard much about you. The Fatherland owes a debt to you for the bf109 fighter aircraft.”

  Messerschmitt bobbed his head. “The honor is mine.”

  He then stepped over to the table and removed the lid from a box. He eased a model aircraft from the box and set it on the table.

  “This is the ME262 Swallow. It has already flow
n with a propellor. We hope fly the turbojet version soon.”

  “When?” Schloss asked.

  “Certainly not later than next spring.”

  “It needs to be sooner.”

  “I understand, Herr Partieleiter,” Messerschmidt said. “The Reichsmarshall has expressed himself at length on that subject.”

  At least fat Hermann is doing his job for a change, Schloss thought.

  He walked over. “May I?”

  “Of course, Herr Partieleiter.”

  Schloss picked up the model and held it up to the light streaming in from the windows.

  “This is a sleek aircraft. Will it perform as advertised?”

  “Given certain assurances, we believe it will,” Messerschmitt said.

  “And what are those assurances?” Schloss immediately asked.

  “Reliable power-plants, Sir.”

  Schloss turned to Goering. “Where are we on the engines?”

  “Junkers and BMW have both doubled the engineering staff headcount on their respective engines,” Goering replied. “As I understand it, the biggest weakness is the availability of the alloys which withstand the heat of the engines.”

  “Have you acquired a supply of the necessary metals for this project?”

  “We have,” Goering replied. “We recently concluded a trade pact with the Russians. We have immediately begun stockpiling the necessary minerals.”

  “Good,” Schloss said. He set the model back on the table. “This is a nice piece of work, gentlemen. Might I make a couple of suggestions?”

  “Of course, Herr Partieleiter,” Messerschmitt said cautiously.

  “Now I am not an aeronautics engineer, but I remember reading something about problems with the tail of the plane being the shadow of the wing, and thereby ineffective.”

  Messerschmitt looked carefully at the model, and cocked his head. “You may have something there, Herr Partieleiter. I shall be happy to investigate.”

  “And one other thing,” Schloss said.

  Messerschmitt looked uncomfortable again. “Yes, Herr Partieleiter?”

  “You seem to like very streamlined airplanes.”

  “Yes, Sir. Eliminating drag both improves performance and increases range. This is a very clean airplane.”

  “Perhaps you might consider dive brakes.”

  Once again the designer looked at his aircraft. Unconsciously he rolled his tongue around inside his cheek as he considered what Schloss had said.

  “You may very well be correct, Herr Partieleiter. I very much appreciate your input.”

  For another ten minutes Schloss and Goering listened to Messerschmitt explain the aircraft. After wishing the men well, they left the meeting room. As they walked along the hallway, Goering looked over at Schloss.

  “Can you honestly claim that you have never been an aircraft designer?”

  Schloss chuckled. “I am not an aircraft designer, Herr Goering. I merely try to ask practical questions.”

  “I cannot believe you spotted those things. Herr Messerschmitt was shocked.”

  “We need this airplane Hermann. We need it now. And our friend Willi also needs to think about improving it. And we need some smart engineers working on those engines.”

  “You do not, perhaps, have suggestions about the engines?” he asked.

  “Yes, I do,” Schloss said. “But I know nothing about high temperature alloys.”

  “Then perhaps we should talk to BMW and Junkers.”

  “I would appreciate it if you would set something up,” Schloss said. “I have found that people perform better if they know we are interested in what they are doing.”

  “True,” Goering grunted. “Most true.”

  “Both companies have early prototypes of the engines, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “May I suggest you split each team into two, and have the two teams competing to build a better engine?”

  Goering stopped walking and looked at Schloss. “That is really a very good idea, Herr Schloss. I should have thought of that myself.”

  “I have no problems with your taking the credit,” Schloss murmured. “As I said, Germany needs this airplane. Does it have your attention?”

  “Yes, it does,” he replied. “I will ask for weekly status reports as well as visit the factories regularly.”

  “That's all I can ask,” Schloss said.

  “If there is nothing further, Herr Partieleiter, I shall be on my way.”

  “Thank you for setting up this meeting, Herr Reichsmarshall.”

  Goering bobbed his head and walked towards the stairs. Schloss watched his mincing steps and shook his head. He was beginning to understand why Hitler replaced him with Speer for industrial planning. Goering worked hard, but was not a creative thinker.

  Schloss walked into his office. His new secretary walked in behind him and set a fresh cup of coffee on the desk. Schloss looked down at the desk and then at the secretary.

  “What have you done to my desk?”

  Willem Kirche looked shocked. “I do not understand, Herr Partieleiter.”

  “Let's be honest, Willem. My desk formerly resembled a train wreck. Did we overload the refuse service or something?”

  Kirche cracked a slight smile. “It was not so bad, Herr Partieleiter. I have simply organized and prioritized things for you. The stack of papers in the center of your desk contains the items you must complete today. From left to right at the rear of the desk are first of all, potential trouble items, the second are your long range projects. The third stack contains items that I believe I can examine and make the decisions. I would like you to review them to make sure they follow your desires.”

  “I am always amazed at those who are capable of calling chaos to order,” Schloss said with a smile. “And thank you for the coffee.”

  “My pleasure, Sir.”

  Kirche then backed out of the room, pulling the door shut as he went. Schloss chuckled again as he sat down to tackle what were now his assigned tasks for the day. One of the few things he and Trudy had regularly argued about was his inability to organize things. Oh, he knew he had a very organized mind. His successful teaching career had proven that. He simply couldn't not arrange more than about five items on a desk. His office desk at the university was often the subject of humor among the other professors, and it seemed that even an event like being bounced into another universe, or whatever it was, had not cured the problem.

  Renate had become a familiar figure in the party headquarters by involving herself in anything that she determined needed oversight. Everyone else assumed the sister of the party leader had the authority, and Schloss decided to say nothing about it. So, she had located Willem Kirche in the signals section of the building. Since he saw all of the communications entering or leaving the building, she assumed his need to know. Plus, he was well organized. Even the Germans who had something of a fetish for organization recognized this. His move to the top floor was a career coup for him, and a great benefit to Schloss.

  He took a sip of the coffee and decided Kirche's abilities also extended to that skill. It was very good. He looked at the stack on the center of his desk and wondered whether to procrastinate. A little voice told him he needed to be a disciplined German and get busy. He glanced at the potential trouble stack with a folded newspaper on the top. Why not?

  The paper was folded in such a way that a single story was facing him when he picked it up. Hess had spoken in Wittenberg the previous evening, and the papers had naturally covered it. Schloss scanned the story, and then unfolded the paper to continue reading.

  “Kirche!” he shouted.

  The secretary stepped into the room so quickly Schloss wondered if he had been waiting right outside.

  “Yes, Herr Partieleiter?”

  “Is Hess back in town?”

  “Yes, Herr Partieleiter.”

  “Then get him over here.”

  “At once, Herr Partieleiter.”

  Schloss stood up
and walked over to the window. Down below the citizens of Berlin marched along the sidewalks and went about their business. He wondered if they had any idea of what went on in the government buildings. He then pondered the term loose cannon. He thought it was a naval term, but wasn't sure of the background to it. He was fairly sure, however, it would be a good fit for Hess. Last night's speech was a disaster waiting to happen. He couldn't believe it.

  Fifteen minutes later Kirche knocked once on the door and opened it.

  “The Deputy Fuhrer, Herr Partieleiter.”

  “Fine. Show him in, please.”

  “Good morning, Herr Schloss,” Hess said brightly as he marched in.

  “I thought it was,” Schloss snapped. “Sit down, Rudolf.”

  Hess slipped into the chair across from Schloss and now was beginning to look nervous. “Is there a problem, Herr Partieleiter?”

  “You might say that. Could you explain to me what you were trying to achieve last night?”

  Hess looked puzzled. “We had a very good night, Herr Partieleiter. The speech went well, and the people were enthusiastic.”

  “And what about the speech?”

  “My people helped me write it. You were busy, so I drove down to the hospital and had Rainer look at it.”

  “And Rainer was satisfied with your speech?” Schloss asked.

  “He made some changes, which I think improved the speech. I was delighted with the help.”

  “And then what?”

  Hess shook his head. “I am not sure what you are driving at, Herr Schloss. I flew down to Wittenberg and made the speech. I flew home. It was routine.”

  “How, then, do you explain the reaction of the people to the speech.”

  “Why they were enthusiastic. I told you that.”

  Schloss looked at Hess. I sometimes wonder how someone who is very bright could be so stupid.

  “Let me read a passage to you. ‘At the conclusion of the speech the audience rose to their feet and cheered. They began chanting heil Hess, heil Hess, heil Hess.' Now do you understand what concerns me?”