by Ward Wagher
“The people were excited, Herr Schloss. It was spontaneous.”
“And what does everyone think when they hear people shouting heil Hess?”
“Well, I am the Deputy Fuhrer, after all.”
Schloss slapped his hand down on the desk. Hess jumped.
“And you are a fool! How do you suppose Himmler will react to this?”
“I believe you are overreacting, Herr Schloss.”
“Am I? Are you willing to bet your life on that, Rudolf? Because that is exactly what you are doing.”
Hess stood up. “I do not have to sit here and listen to this!” he shouted. “I believe you are simply envious of my popularity. Hey, I know I am not everything the Fuhrer was. I do not even wish to compare myself to him. But the people like me. I think we can use that to our advantage.”
“Sit down Rudolf,” Schloss ordered. “You are right. We can use your popularity to our advantage. But only if you are alive. We have had this conversation before. What is the matter with you?”
“What is the matter with me? I am working as hard as I can for the Fatherland and the party. I am becoming weary of your lectures to me, Herr Partieileiter. I am glad to work with you, but I am not your child.”
And he spun and walked quickly from the office. Schloss put his elbows on the desk and rested his head in his hands. He swore softly under his breath. He then looked up to see Kirche standing in the doorway.
“Two things, Willem.”
“Yes, Herr Partieileiter?”
“Get Schlemke in here. And find out when they are going to let Rainer out of the hospital.”
“At once, Herr Partieleiter.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
November 30, 1941; 8 AM
Port of Haifa, Palestine
The ancient tramp steamer was nearing the end of its extended life. The turbines were worn and inefficient. The propeller shaft vibrated alarmingly. Rust was poking its way through the hasty coat of white paint its new owners had applied. Many of the inhabitants who visited the docks of Haifa in Palestine stopped to stare at the ship as it staggered into the harbor. The huge Star of David painted on each side of the ship drew their attention. The white flag with the Star of David was not as obvious; nor was the name of the ship: Eretz Israel.
The voyage from Ancona in Italy had not been comfortable. This was not a passenger liner, and the facilities were limited, considering the passenger load. Still, the Jewish people aboard were anxious to get their first look at the Promised Land, and relieved to be away from Europe. They crowded the rail and watched the sun rise over Mount Carmel and over their new home.
Captain Malcolm Devons of the Royal Army had spotted the ship and pushed his way through the dock-side vendors and market crowds in an attempt to reach the ship before it could unload. In the distance he could see people walking down the gang plank and recognized he was too late. He stepped into the offices of a small shipping firm and borrowed the telephone.
“Ramat David British Operations, Major Kensington Smythe speaking, Sir.”
“Major Smythe, this is Captain Devons. Are you the duty officer?”
“Yes, Captain,” Smythe replied.
“We have a ship in the harbor off-loading people. There is a bloody great Star of David painted on the side. I am going to need some assistance, Sir.”
Smythe swore as he grabbed a clip board to see who was commanding the quick reaction troop. “Very well, Captain Devons. You are on the water front?”
“Correct. How did these wogs get through anyway? I thought the Navy was stopping everyone.”
“Ha!” Smythe replied. “In case you hadn't heard, Jerry have surged about an hundred submarines into the Med. The Navy have its hands full. The bloody Huns sunk Ark Royal last week.”
“Bloody hell,” Devons exclaimed. “In other words, we are on our own, here.”
“Or so it seems, Captain. It appears Captain Gordon has the quick reaction team today. He will be instructed to liaise with you.”
“Very well, Major, Sir. I thank you for the help.”
Devons continued working his way along the wharf to where he could get a closer look at the ancient freighter at the pier. It appeared to him that it contained a mass of humanity. Not only were men moving quickly down the gang plank, but multitudes of women and children were mixed in. Most seemed to be wearing European clothing, which was ill suited to the climate. Many attempted to halt at the end of the gang plank as if wondering where to go next. Other were encouraging them to move along.
Devons stiffened as he got close enough to see that most of the men were carrying rifles strapped to their shoulders. This was simply too much. He marched over to the ship.
“Now, see here! Bringing weapons into the Palestine Territory is not allowed. You must halt your off-loading immediately.”
A couple of men at the base of the ramp chattered to him in Dutch or German. Unfortunately, he understood neither. He stood clenching his fists at his sides and looked around. The children looked at him curiously as they walked down the ramp, holding a parent's hand. He grew more frustrated as he saw the passengers scattering into the crowds. He recognized some of the local Jews as they greeted the passengers and guided them away.
He was relieved to see Captain Saint-James Gordon marching along the wharf with about fifteen soldiers. Hopefully this would be enough to get the off-boarding stopped and give him time to settle things down. The British were not necessarily opposed to allowing Jews to immigrate to Palestine, but they were intent on managing it in a way to minimize the inevitable frictions that developed. A whole shipload such as this did not help things at all.
Gordon marched up to Devons and saluted. “I see we have a bit of a problem, Captain.”
“Right, Captain. I believe we may have at least a hundred of the blighters wandering off into the city already.”
“Right.” He turned to the sergeant. “Okay, Sergeant, get the lads in order. We need to stop the off-loading.”
“Sah,” the sergeant saluted, then turned around and began giving orders.
# # #
December 2, 1941; 2pm
Reich Chancellery, Berlin
“Very accommodating of the English,” Himmler said with a smile. “They managed to kill about twenty-five Jews in that melee on the docks in Haifa.”
I think Himmler is disgusting, Schloss thought, but I cannot say anything right now
“It appears they have handed us an opportunity,” Schloss said. He looked at Goebbels. “I assume you can take advantage of this?”
“Oh, yes, Herr Partieleiter. I believe we will give them an opportunity to wish they had never heard of Palestine. The neutral press will eat this up. The English press is already in full cry.”
“In other words we may need to do nothing,” Schloss said.
“Oh no,” Goebbels replied. “I believe if we apply some pressure here and there, we can make things much worse for the English. The American state department is already viewing with concern.”
Goering clapped his hands together. “Ho, ho. That is just about the last thing the English will want to hear. This will cut the ground from beneath Roosevelt and Churchill.”
“That may be optimistic,” Ribbentrop said. “I really don't think we can budge the relationship between the two leaders. But if the American people start to turn against the English, we may just spike their guns.”
“The English military is already in a bad odor with the people. This will not help,” Hess said. “I wonder if we will see some heads roll in London.”
Schloss shrugged. “Anything that will cause them to lose confidence I will definitely favor.”
“There are four ships waiting to leave Ancona,” Himmler said. “I sent a cable this morning ordering them to set sail. We have them off balance. Let us keep pushing. And by the way, Hermann, it was a stroke of genius on your part in arming them.”
Goering shrugged and tried to look modest. Schloss decided he had not succeeded.
“It appears some of the Jews managed to get them into action in Haifa,” Himmler said. “Several of the English soldiers were killed as well.” He paused. “I was not in favor of this initiative. But I think it will draw the English off-balance. We have managed to ship a lot of matériel to Rommel as well. The English Navy is having trouble dealing with our U-Boats. Between them and the Italian Navy, we might even end up owning the Mediterranean.”
“That is my hope,” Schloss said. “Ultimately we have the interior supply lines. The English are going to have to ship overland from Casablanca. I think we can interdict that as well.”
“It would be nice to do something about Gibraltar,” Goering said.
Himmler scowled. “That ungrateful wretch Franco won't let us pass our troops through Spanish territory. And that is after everything we have done for him over the past ten years.”
“Could we actually do something about it, if Franco gave us passage?”
Goering looked down at the table and tapped his fingers. “It would be difficult.”
“And would it be worth the cost?” Schloss asked.
Goering shook his head. “Until we have a surface navy of any significance, probably not.”
“I wish we had not spent the money on those ships,” Himmler said. “It seems all we did was give the English target practice.”
Schloss snorted. “I find it hard to disagree, Herr Reichsprotektor. We should have learned that from the last war.”
“No matter,” Hess said. “It looks as though our Mediterranean strategy is bearing fruit.”
“With the resupply, Rommel is considering another attack on Tobruk,” Goering said. “If we can sweep the English from the southern shores of the Mediterranean, we will be a long way towards accomplishing our resource goals.”
“Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” Schloss said. “If the English decide to reinforce their Mediterranean fleet, we will be required to do the same.”
“We are on schedule to begin assembling U-Boats in Naples in January,” Goering said.
“Any feel for the quality of the Italian workmen?” Hess asked.
Goering shrugged. “The Italian Navy is competent. As opposed to their army. They are providing technical advice, and I believe quality will be acceptable.”
“Back to the agenda item,” Hess said. “We seem to have an immediate advantage in Haifa. Can we go ahead and flood them with Jews?”
“I have ordered our people in Lyons to paint a dozen freighters white with the Star of David,” Himmler said. “We are clearing the Jews out of France as rapidly as possible. I think we can take advantage of the English to accomplish a lot. If they happen to sink the freighters, well my goals are accomplished.”
Better that he is not shooting them, I guess, Schloss thought.
The ruling group continued working its way through the agenda. Finally, Hess called the meeting to a close. Everyone stood. Hess stood also, and immediately walked from the room. Schloss looked around.
“Close the door, Kirke,” he said.
The others looked curiously at Schloss. He nodded before speaking.
“I trust you are aware of the newspaper reports of the Deputy Fuhrer's speeches recently.”
Himmler scowled and shook his head. “Heil Hess, indeed. What has brought this on, Schloss?”
“You mean, is Hess engineering this? I don't think so.”
“So it's spontaneous?” Goebbels asked. “I haven't been paying attention to what he was doing.”
“Hess is doing exactly what we asked him to do,” Schloss said. “He has put a face on the government, and attracted the support of the people.”
“And he wasn't supposed to be this... exciting,” Goering said. “I went to a couple of his speeches and he brought me to my feet. And, I helped write his speech. He has a gift.”
“So what is the problem, then?” Himmler asked. “I know he had lost the confidence of the Fuhrer, and for good reason. But you are still controlling him, right Herr Schloss?”
Schloss smiled, but was uncomfortable. “He came to me last week and asked me to support him so he could be elevated to Fuhrer.”
Himmler muttered an oath. “How likely is he to go publicly say something?”
“I sat on him pretty hard,” Schloss said. “But you all know that he can be somewhat unpredictable.”
“I should have him arrested,” Himmler said.
“I do not think you should do that, Heinrich,” Goebbels said. “If he has become as popular as Schloss says, things will become unpredictable if something were to happen to the Deputy Fuhrer. Unfortunately, he is our creation.”
Himmler swore again. He then looked across the table at Schloss. “Then you're just going to have to sit on him, Herr Partieleiter. We don't have the time to deal with his ambitions.”
“I agree, and I will,” Schloss said. “I think you will understand why I thought it necessary to inform you of these things.”
“Thank you,” Himmler said. “I had missed all this somehow. I believe I need to have a word with some of my people. It gets dangerous when they don't pay attention.”
And dangerous when they do, Schloss thought. I certainly hope I can keep myself out of the line of fire if Hess self-destructs.
He took a deep breath. “Very well. Let's leave before he wonders what we are all doing in here.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
December 3, 1941; 3 PM
Nazi Party Headquarters, Berlin
“The Japanese have been heard from,” Peter Schreiber said as he slid into the chair across from Schloss.
“Do tell,” Schloss said as he stood up. He walked over to a side table and picked up a pitcher and felt the bottom with his hand to see if it was still warm. He held it up towards Schreiber.
“No thank you,” he replied.
Schloss poured coffee into his cup and returned to the desk and sat down.
“I would characterize the note as polite,” Schreiber said.
“And?”
“The substance is that they wish us to mind our own business, except where our treaty obligations are concerned, of course.”
“Of course,” Schloss said dryly. “And was there a specific response to our suggestion that we do not wish to go to war with the United States?”
“No other than to remind us of our treaty obligations.”
“How kind of them. Did the Foreign Minister distribute the contents of the note to the other members of the government, Peter?”
“He did. The messengers all went out about the same time as I left the offices.”
Schloss sighed. “I suppose our friends in the government will wish to discuss this development.”
“How much time to you think we have?”
“Not much,” Schloss said, as he shook his head. “The Japanese are determined to move forward. And it will be a grave miscalculation on their part. Oh, the Americans are not ready for a war in the Pacific. And the Imperial Japanese Navy is competent. The Americans are building up their navy expecting a war in Europe. Once they swing those resources to the Pacific, it will only be a matter of time before they have soldiers marching through Tokyo.”
“You're serious, aren't you?” Schreiber asked.
Am I getting too transparent? I wonder what he is thinking about me.
“It's called, know thine enemy, Peter. I have made it my business to study our current and potential enemies. If the Japanese drag the Americans into a war with them, I am happy to let that happen – as long as they don't drag us into it as well. With the Americans distracted towards their west, we will hopefully have more freedom in how we prosecute our war.”
“Will the English not support the Americans in the Far East? The Japanese will certainly try to take Singapore and the other English possessions.”
“That is why we need to be as
clear as we can possibly be that we want no part in that war. And while I am thinking about it, we need to warn the Italians off as well. There's no telling what that idiot Mussolini will do if the balloon goes up in the Pacific.”
Schreiber chuckled. “Signor Mussolini is not held in high regard in my office, either.”
“Exactly. We had help him out in Abyssinia when he couldn't roll over a bunch of savages. And let's not even talk about Greece. Thank God their navy seems to be marginally competent.”
“Very well, Herr Partieleiter. Is there any message you would like me to carry back to the Foreign Minister?”
“I expect we will be meeting within the day, but tell him to prepare a rather more strongly worded note to the Japanese – tell them we are abrogating the mutual defense treaty, but we will always be friends.”
Schreiber now laughed out loud. “Seriously?”
“Well, not the second part,” Schloss said with a smile. “But they need to clearly understand how lonely they will be when the American navy steams over the horizon towards their home islands.”
“I will carry the message.”
“One other thing, Peter. Have we heard anything from the Americans about the destroyer we sank?”
He shook his head. “Not a thing. They quieted right down when we sent the offer of reparations. When Ribbentrop sent his apology letter to the New York Times we think it cut the ground out from under the people demanding vengeance. I hope.”
“I hope so, too,” Schloss said. “Nothing unofficially, either, I assume.”
“I had a deeply off-the-record conversation with the American military attaché. I suggested to him that parking a neutral American man of war in the middle of an English formation during a shooting war was possibly not the smartest thing they might have done. And he privately agreed. I am hopeful that they will have decided it’s to everyone's best interest to allow this incident to fade away.”
“I very much hope that will be the case,” Schloss said. “The problem is that even the American government is not monolithic in their approach to us. Roosevelt, of course, is Churchill's great friend and has been actively supporting the English. But we also saw an example of a faction in their Department of State that is much friendlier to Germany, or perhaps at least neutral.”
