by Ward Wagher
“My thoughts, as well. I'm beginning to think the Americans decided to just drop it.”
“And it appears that the Japanese will shortly make certain the Americans forget about their destroyer.”
Goering shook his head. “I never have liked them. If they and the Americans bleed each other dry, I would not complain too much.”
“Have you thought, though, how that may stimulate the Americans to invent new weapons?”
Goering paused. “I had not thought about that. That is frightening. I can see why you have adopted your pessimist persona. It really works.”
Schloss snorted. “I wouldn't put it that way.”
“Nonetheless, you have had an important influence in the war effort over the past six months. I cannot believe how we had seemed to lose focus. I would not say this to just anyone, but I believe the Fuhrer was close to over-reach. He was attempting too much at once. We did not succeed in beating the English, and I admit that was as much my fault as anyone's. But we should have stopped then, and rethought our strategy.”
“I appreciate your saying that,” Schloss replied. “If we are going to have a thousand year Reich, we cannot proceed as we had earlier. We wouldn't have lasted five more years.”
“Surely you jest, Herr Partieleiter.”
“Think about it Hermann. We took a huge bite out of Europe and we haven't really digested it. We didn't finish off the English. We were getting ready to get into a major land war with the Russians, and the Americans were on the verge of entering the war. Was it Napoleon or one of the English generals that said God is on the side of the big battalions?”
Goering was quiet for a while, apparently thinking. “I believe your point is taken. Where do we go next?”
I don't think I want to tell you my plans, Herr Goering. You are suddenly too accommodating, not to mention apt to sell out to the highest bidder.
“Perhaps after the new year we should convene for a few days of planning. We could begin to map out a new strategy for moving forward,” Schloss said.
“That is a very good idea. When are you planning to announce that?”
I must remember that this man is not a complete fool.
“Perhaps at our next governing council meeting. Would you like to suggest it to the group?”
Goering stopped chewing and laid his fork down. “I would be honored to do so.”
“Perhaps in January you could suggest to Hess that you wish to propose a planning session. He can put it on the agenda for the meeting.”
“A good idea.” Goering's eyes glittered. “Perhaps it will stop the bickering among us.”
Schloss tilted his head. “Do you really believe that, Herr Goering?”
The other man laughed, spewing food across the table. “No, but I could wish.”
Goering took several more bites of his luncheon before speaking again. “Emmy is hosting a reception at Carinhall over Yuletide. You will be able to attend, of course?”
Schloss nodded. “Thank you for the invitation. I shall be happy to accept.”
“And you will bring your lovely friend, of course.”
“If that is all right with you and Emmy.”
“My friend, I insist,” Goering said.
“And I am honored,” Schloss said.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
December 7, 1941; 6 AM
Schloss Residence, Charlottenburg, Berlin
Schloss awakened early on this Sunday morning. He was anxious to see what the Japanese would do in the Pacific, although it would be well into the evening before he received any news. He would hold his breath all day, probably. It seemed his goal to turn Germany into a moral super power depended on what the Japanese did around the other side of the world. Would the Americans react by declaring war against the entire Axis? Had they understood the messages he sent and forebear?
Frau Marsden sensed his mood and had said little upon his request for an early breakfast. Unusually she followed him to the foyer, and pulled his coat out of the closet for him.
“I would not worry too much about the Americans, Herr Schloss.”
He looked at her carefully, then shrugged his coat on. “Why do you say that, Frau Marsden?”
She stared at him and her penetrating eyes made him nervous. “For one thing, once you have done everything you can, you must accept events as they happen. And I think that the Americans really will not want a war with Germany given the circumstances.”
“What circumstances would that be, Frau Marsden?” he asked.
“That is an answer you will not discover today, I believe.”
“And how do you know so much, anyway?” he asked her.
“You have explained enough of world events that it is not difficult to see the trends, Herr Schloss.”
What is it that the old woman knows? There is no question she can be frightening.
“I must go.”
“How long will you be gone?” she asked.
“I do not expect to return until evening.”
“The children will miss you today.”
“Peter and Renate can take them to the park or something.” If I have to sit at home today I will go insane.
“Very well, Herr Schloss. Have a care today.”
“Thank you, Frau Marsden. I certainly shall.”
The guards were not expecting him to go to the office on Sunday. He had asked Frau Marsden to step outside to let them know, and they had pulled the car around for him. This would leave a minimal guard force around the house, although it was no different than any other time he was away. He tried not to think about the risk to those he now loved.
The streets of Berlin were quiet. Here and there families walked to their neighborhood churches. The city was peaceful and placid. The English had not bombed Berlin in months, and inhabitants had settled back into a peacetime routine. Schloss thought London was probably much the same this morning.
The business of governing the country never shut down, and so quite a few party employees were in the office. Kirke was sitting at his desk when Schloss walked in. The secretary jumped to his feet.
“Herr Partieleiter, I had no idea you were planning to be in the office today.”
“Is that a problem?” Schloss asked with a small grin.
“Oh, not at all. I had not brewed your coffee.”
“Not a concern, Willem. Just bring me a cup whenever you have some ready.”
Schloss hung his coat and hat on the rack, and stepped over to the desk. As he sat down he noticed Schlempke had followed him into the office.
“Is there a problem, Herr Partieleiter?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“You are not acting as you do normally. I am concerned there might be a threat.”
Schloss laughed. “I am sorry to be such a bother, Alden. There is not an immediate problem. I have been pondering conditions around the world and am worried about the things which could go wrong.”
And maybe I can settle these people down before they put me in a hospital somewhere. From the way everyone looks at me I am not behaving normally.
“We are here to serve you, Herr Partieleiter,” Schlempke said. “Please let us know how we can help.”
“Thanks, Alden. What I am looking for is some quiet time here in the office.”
“I believe we can manage such for you, Sir.”
Schloss studied the neatly arranged stacks on his desk, but made no move to touch anything. A few minutes later Kirke bustled into the room with a cup of coffee and that morning's paper. Schloss snapped the paper open and began browsing the articles as he sipped the coffee. At 8:30 the military digest arrived, and Kirke also brought that in for him.
While the English had subsided somewhat and mainly glowered at them from the other side of the Channel, the repositioning of the U-Boats to the Mediterranean had paid dividends in establishing a reliable supply line to Rommel. It had also enabled the transport of more Jews to Palestine. Following the Haifa Massacre, the English had cea
sed any attempts to stop the landing of the people there. Schloss was happy when people decided to cooperate, for whatever the reason.
Things were going relatively well, he thought as he read the digest. The government was fairly stable. Himmler had acquiesced to his changes to the Jewish policies. Goering was in awe of his suggestions to the military. They had avoided the suicidal invasion of Russia. And, in spite of his nutty proclivities, Hess had been magnificent in bringing reassurance to the populace following Hitler's death.
Now if only the Japanese would pay attention to his warnings and not start another war. All he asked were a few years to build Germany's position on the continent into something unassailable. If he could do that, he would have a free hand to help the Jews build a homeland in Palestine and develop a society without the radical idiocy of National Socialism.
He heard church bells chime the 11 o'clock hour and determined he had done nothing other than read the new items and drink coffee all morning. There was a commotion in the outer office and Hess burst through the door. Schlempke followed him in.
“I told you we had not completed our conversation yesterday, Herr Partieleiter. I simply do not understand why you are not supporting me.”
What is it with this pin-head? He is not going to let it rest until Himmler kills him.
“Do you remember what I told you several days ago, Rudolf?” Schloss asked him.
“Yes, yes, I know that. But the people are enthusiastic. This would be the perfect time to appoint me as the Fuhrer.”
Schloss shook his head. “We have been over this ground time and again. Listen, Rudolf, let's get through the Yuletide season. Then you can put this on the agenda for a meeting in January. I give you my word we will all discuss it.”
“That is very good of you, Herr Schloss, but why not discuss it tomorrow? We are scheduled to meet.”
“Because we are at a critical stage with the Japanese and the Americans, Rudolf. We have told you this. We try to do too much at once and the law of unintended consequences catches up with us.”
“I think you are just trying to keep me from something that is rightfully mine.”
“Rightfully yours?” Schloss stood up and shouted at him. “What is the matter with you, anyway? I am trying to keep you alive, Rudolf! And if you are too stupid to realize that I probably ought to just shoot you myself and get it over with.”
He walked around the desk and stepped up to Hess, and began poking him in the chest.
“You have done some fine work, Rudolf. You are a loyal member of the party. Your speeches over the past several months have been instrumental in uniting the people behind the government. But let me ask you this, do you ever look in the mirror?”
Hess had turned white as Schloss pummeled him with words. “I... I do not know what you are talking about.”
“Do you truly see yourself as others see you?”
“I know I am very capable. I could do this, Herr Schloss.”
“Then let me ask you this, Herr Hess: why is it that your speeches are written by me, or Goering, or Goebbels, or Rainer, for God's sake?”
“I freely admit you are all better writers than I,” Hess said. “I just can't put the words together well.”
“Exactly! And running a country requires more than just writing the agenda for our meetings. Did you ever watch Herr Hitler and see the things he had to pay attention to? It isn't just standing on the reviewing stand, soaking up the adulation of the people.”
“I know that...”
“And understand this, Herr Hess: If you find yourself in the Fuhrer's chair, it will be because we have all reached an understanding that you will do whatever we tell you to do. And right now, there is no consensus. I am doing everything I can to keep the government together, and you are not helping!”
Schloss decided that Hess looked like he was going to cry. What would it take to get through to the man? It was no wonder that he had flown an airplane to England in an attempt to broker a peace deal in Schloss's former universe. Hess was fundamentally out of touch with reality.
“I am very sorry, Herr Partieleiter. I just keep thinking I can do more for the Reich than in my current position.”
I was right. The man is crying. He really needs to be locked up for his own protection.
“Just get out of my office, Rudolf. I'm so mad at you right now I can't think straight. And for heaven's sake, put a stop to this Heil Hess nonsense. All it will do is get a lot of people killed, including you.”
Without another word, Hess turned and fled the office. Schlempe looked at Schloss in clear disbelief.
“You got it, Alden. We are going to have to deal with him sooner or later. And later is not that far away.”
“What can I do to help, Herr Partieleiter.”
Schloss shook his head and walked back around to his chair and collapsed into it.
“I don't know. If Himmler does something about Hess, then I will have to do something about Himmler. Then all Hell will let out for lunch.”
Schlempke slipped out of the office then, and Schloss spent the next half hour staring at the desk. I suppose there is something to be said for being the only sane man in the asylum, he thought. But, after a while, it becomes hard to tell the difference between the rational and the irrational.
Kirke tapped on the door and stepped in. “Would you like a lunch brought in, Herr Partieleiter?”
“Yes, I think I would like that. After dealing with Hess this morning, if I get out around people I am likely to kill somebody.”
Kirke snorted. “A bit extreme, but I understand what you are saying.”
Schloss pointed at the secretary. “Just get me some lunch, Willem.”
“At once, Herr Partieleiter.”
A half hour later Kirke carried a bratwurst sandwich and a pitcher of beer into the office.
“Ah, you must have read my mind,” Schloss said. “That looks wonderful.”
“And for a bit of good news, the hospital released Rainer this morning.”
“Really? That is good news. I hope he has the sense to stay home for a few days.”
“He wanted to come by the office on the way home. I had to strongly discourage him.”
“I think I would have liked to have heard that conversation,” Schloss said.
“Perhaps not, Herr Partieleiter. It involved a high level of invective.”
“On the part of you or him?”
“Both. I suspect he will find a way to struggle in here tomorrow.”
“Perhaps I should speak with him.”
“He sometimes listens to you, Sir.”
Schloss looked at the slight grin on the secretary's face. “And how do you know?”
“Schlempke told me.”
“Very well, then. Let me enjoy this wonderful lunch you have procured. I will then call Herr Rainer and have words with him.”
“May I listen in on the call, Sir?”
“Willem, has anyone explained the factors that impact the life expectancy of secretaries?”
“I take the Partieleiter's point.”
After Kirke left the office, Schloss began working on the lunch. He decided that he had discovered another of the secretary's skills – putting him back into the good mood. He would have to make a point to thank Renate for digging him up.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
December 10, 1941; 8 AM
Over England
Captain Gregor Koche was worried. Perhaps terrified was a better description. In response to a raid on the German port of Bremerhaven, the Lufwaffe High Command had planned an early morning raid on one of the ports in the lower Thames. There had been an unspoken agreement between the English and the Germans to not bomb each other’s' capital cities, and in fact, the overall tempo of the air war had decreased dramatically during the summer and fall of 1941. Yet the Royal Air Force raid on Bremerhaven had to be answered.
The raid was designed to hit just before daylight, and the Germans were betting that the British defen
se would be a low ebb. The Germans had looked at the risk of being caught in the daylight on their return to base and decided it was acceptable.
Captain Koche silently cursed that decision as his flight of five JU-88 bombers had become separated from the main group while passing through a series of storm squalls. All he knew about his current location was that he was somewhere north of London. It was only a matter of time before the ravening Spitfires and Hurricanes sunk their teeth into his small flight and that would be that.
He had instructed the bombardier to watch for a target of opportunity. He was almost at his fuel limits and would soon need to return to base.
“Jenko, have you found a target?” he snapped.
“All I have is a small rail yard, Sir.”
“That will have to do. If we don't get turned around, we'll be landing in the channel.”
“Very well, Sir, steer zero-one-zero.”
He adjusted the course slightly and contacted the other bombers. They were in a hurry, and salvoed their bombs. Considering the circumstances, the accuracy was quite good. The 250 pound bombs walked across the rail yards below, tearing up track and infrastructure. One even managed to land on a morning train to London, which was just passing through the area, and added a massive derailment along with significant carnage to the destruction.
Nearby in a British research establishment, the scientists were gathering for their first cup of tea of the morning when a string of bombs intended for the railway yards fell across the neighborhood and neatly destroyed the buildings of Bletchley Park, along with the scientists, cryptoanalysts and computing equipment that formed the core of the British code breaking operation against the Germans.
Captain Hoche swung his flight of JU-88 bombers towards the east and the North Sea without knowing that he had scored perhaps the greatest German victory in the war against the British. Because of the heavy cloud cover and poor weather over the North Sea, the frantically searching British fighters were not able to intercept the fleeing bombers. Hoche landed safely at his base in northern Germany with only minutes of fuel remaining.
