by Ward Wagher
She shivered. “It is almost like he is seeing into another world. A world where these things happened.”
He stared at her. “How can you say that?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Just a feeling, I guess. What’s the phrase? I feel like somebody walked over my grave.” She studied him. “You feel it, too, don’t you?”
He smiled at her. “I am just enjoying dinner with a beautiful American, who is my friend. We should not bother ourselves with the what ifs tonight.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
April 4, 1942; 8AM
Reichschancellor’s Apartments
Reichschancellery
Berlin, Germany
Heinrich Schloss looked around the table where he ate breakfast with his family on this Saturday morning. Hans-Friedrich and Anna-Lisa had quickly accepted Gisela as part of the household, and the girl, in particular, had bonded to her. Frau Marsden worked hard to create a home-like atmosphere in spite of their having to live in what Gisela called a mausoleum.
“Who are you meeting with today, Poppa?” Hans-Friedrich asked.
“Oh, I need to speak with Herr Heisenberg today. Plus, Herr Goering just got out of the hospital and wants to speak with me.”
“Is Herr Goering better now?” Anna-Lisa asked.
Schloss glanced over at Gisela before answering his daughter. “I believe he is much better.”
Frau Marsden set a potato and cheese casserole on the table, and then returned moments later with a plate of sausage. She glanced around the table before leaving the dining room, and returned again to refill Schloss’s and Gisela’s coffee cups.
“This looks wonderful as usual, Frau Marsden,” Gisela said. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Oh, it is just part of my job, Frau Schloss. I am happy you enjoy it.”
“Oh, we do,” Schloss said.
He picked up a hard-boiled egg and tapped it on the table to crack the shell. “And what are my favorite children planning for today?”
“It is raining,” Anna-Lisa said, “so Mutti-Gisela said we could play inside today.”
“Try not to frighten the government workers, then,” Schloss said, shaking his finger at the children in mock severity.
“Oh, Poppa,” Anna-Lisa said in rebuke. “The government workers like us.”
Schloss was a bit relieved. With the guards on every floor of the Reichschancellery the children were as safe as anywhere else he could think of. He worried about them growing up in this environment, but decided that the children were more adaptable than he. And they were good children, he thought. For having dropped from another world and another life to assume the role of a head of household, he felt like he was especially blessed with Hans-Friedrich and Anna-Lisa. And, of course, Gisela was in her own class of special blessings.
“You will not let them give you too much candy, now,” Schloss instructed.
“But that is not fun,” Hans-Friedrich said.
“Making yourself ill from too much candy is not fun, either,” Schloss said.
“You are smiling, Poppa,” Anna-Lisa said.
Frau Marsden came into the room again. “You will want to pay attention to your father, children. Too much candy is bad for you.”
“Yes, Frau Marsden,” the children said, almost in unison.
Gisela’s mouth quirked, and she leaned forward to cover her mouth. Once she had her face straight again she spoke.
“If you are done with breakfast, you may be excused.”
“Yes, Mutti-Gisela.”
She picked up her coffee cup to sip as the children bounded out of the room.
“You really should not torment the children, so,” she said.
“Oh, they enjoy the back and forth,” he replied. “Besides, it’s something fathers do.”
“No, it’s not.”
“And mothers berate the fathers about it. It is what mothers do.”
“Are you working your way into a fight with your bride, Herr Schloss?”
“No. Of course not,” he replied. “I will simply walk downstairs to my office, leaving you frustrated.”
She got out of her chair and walked around the table to bend over and wrap her arms around him.
“I shall simply trap you here until I can convince you to see reason.”
He chuckled. “Frau Schloss, I am putty in your hands.”
She straightened up and cuffed the back of his head. “You are impossible.”
“Merely improbable.”
Later, as he walked down the stairs to the level where his office was located, Schloss pondered his morning. I really am an improbable Nazi. And the longer I live in this place, I witness more improbable events. And I really wonder what brought me here.
§ § §
April 4, 1942; 10AM
Reichschancellor’s Office
Reichschancellery
Berlin, Germany
“Herr Doctor Heisenberg, thank you for taking the time to see me,” Schloss said.
“The honor is mine, Herr Reichschancellor,” Werner Heisenberg said. He gave a brief bow and clicked his heels together.
“Please, be seated. The coffee and pastries will be here in a moment.”
Heisenberg carefully eased into the chair across from Schloss’s desk. He looked very nervous. He jumped when the steward stepped up beside him to place the coffee and pastries on the small side table.
“I have read your report,” Schloss began. “I am impressed with the progress you have made since we last spoke. You have built a functioning organization and have even begun work.”
“Thank you, Herr Reichschancellor,” Heisenberg said. “The work has gone very well, for the most part.”
Schloss raised an eyebrow. “So, there have been some things that have not gone well?”
“We have a couple of challenges. One is, as you know, the highly politicized nature of the physics establishment in Germany. That has been a hindrance.”
Schloss placed his elbows on the desk and folded his hands. “In what way have you been hindered?”
“Some of the scientists refuse to work with those of us who were accused of Jewish sympathies.”
It just never ends, Schloss thought. Will we never purge the Nazi poison from our people?
“How have you dealt with this, Herr Heisenberg?”
“I was loathe to forgo the services of some of these people. Many of them are very, very good at what they do. I consulted with the Reichsprotektor....”
Schloss interrupted. “And what did Herr Rainer do for you?”
“He was concerned about communication between these people and some in the SS. We have moved them to a separate laboratory where they work on tasks I have assigned. Konrad Schusse manages the laboratory so the scientists are not forced to sully their hands by working with me.”
I have got to talk to Karl about this. I cannot believe he has not told me about this.
Schloss rested his chin on his folded hands. “It sounds as though you have arrived at a workable solution.”
“It is workable,” Heisenberg said, “but it is not very efficient.”
“And what was the other item?”
“I am having trouble obtaining adequate supplies of heavy water. There is a factory in Norway, but we have had problems with the workers there.”
“What is this heavy water?” Schloss asked. “That is a new term for me.” Well, it is as far as he is concerned.
“Normal water is H2O,” the scientist explained. “Two atoms of hydrogen bound together with a single oxygen atom. Heavy water uses two molecules of heavy hydrogen, which consists of two hydrogen atoms bound together. So the nomenclature is 2H2O.”
“And why is this important?”
“We have found that heavy water is an excellent moderator of nuclear reactions. It absorbs the by-products and prevents uncontrollable events.”
Schloss studied Heisenberg for a few moments. “You have just reminded me we are dealing with vast powers
, are we not?”
Heisenberg nodded. “We are dealing with the fabric of the universe. No one knows ultimately how these things work.”
“Let me warn you once again, to be very careful. And I assume the Reichsprotektor is aware of your problems with the Norwegian Heavy Water factory.”
“He is. Karl-Hermann Geib also is working on another process that looks very promising. If that is successful, we should have another plant up and running here in Germany, probably within another year.”
“Let me repeat, Herr Doctor, that I am impressed with the progress you have made. You don’t let problems stop you. Rather, you immediately start looking for solutions.”
“Thank you, Herr Reichschancellor. I am undeserving of such praise. I merely want to serve the Fatherland.”
“Would that everyone else took their duties so seriously,” Schloss said. “Thank you. Now, can you give me a brief summary of what you hope to achieve?”
“Of course, Herr Reichschancellor.”
And the conversation proceeded down the path of Heisenberg’s dreams for nuclear power and the weapons potential. Schloss pondered what he heard from the scientist. The man seemed to be heading towards using the technology for power production, rather than creating atomic bombs. Schloss wondered if it might be wiser to pursue that, and not loose the genie of the weapons. Without significant petroleum reserves in Germany proper, nuclear generated electricity would solve a lot of resource problems. There was time, later, to further guide the program. Schloss was satisfied, for the moment, to let Heisenberg follow his own paths.
After the meeting Schloss worked through some of the paperwork that managed to get past Willem and land on his desk. Fifteen minutes later the secretary stepped into the office.
“Herr Reichschancellor, the Reichsmarshall is here for your meeting.”
Schloss stood up. “Fine. Show him in, please.”
Kirche opened the door again, and Schloss saw Hermann Goering standing in the vestibule. Behind him was a Luftwaffe major. It seemed that Schloss’s directive to have a watchdog near Goering at all times was followed.
“Hermann!” Schloss called. “Welcome. Come in.”
Goering looked a little unsure of himself as he walked into the office. He had lost weight during his hospital stay, and looked healthier.
“Thank you for seeing me, Herr Reichschancellor.”
“I am delighted to see you out of the hospital. How are you feeling?”
Goering shook his hand. “I am feeling well, actually.”
“Good. Good. Well, have a chair,” Schloss said. “We have a lot to catch up on.”
“Indeed,” Goering said. “Emmy instructed me to thank you, Herr Reichschancellor.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“My… morphine habit had gotten out of control. You got me help. I fear I might have otherwise injured Emmy or Edda.”
“You understand you can never control a morphine habit. It controls you. The only way out is to stay away from it. Completely.”
“The doctors have been telling me that,” Goering said. “I suppose that is the purpose of my minder, out there.” He pointed to the door.
“You need to listen to the doctors,” Schloss said. “They saved your life.”
“Emmy told me that if I allowed myself to get into that condition again, she would take Edda and leave.”
Schloss nodded. “I think you need to listen to your wife, Hermann.”
“I do not want to lose my wife, or my little girl.”
“And that is not all you would lose.”
Goering stared at Schloss. After a moment, he spoke. “I understand, Herr Schloss. And I have no choice, but to agree.”
“Very well.”
Schloss walked around the desk and sat in his chair. “Now, your people have briefed you on the current military situation?”
“They have. It seems things are moving along well strategically.”
“You have phrased it well. There are certain tactical concerns I have.”
“Indeed,” Goering said. “Three events. The first was Il Duce’s death, during which they almost killed you. Secondly was the destruction of the American freighter in La Spezia. The third was the attack on your airplane when you were arriving. You were very fortunate.”
Schloss nodded. “It amazes me that we are still alive.”
“And you have some ideas on how to retaliate?”
“That is why I wanted to consult with you,” Schloss said. “Milch has done a good job while you were indisposed, but he is an administrator, not a warrior.”
Goering straightened in his chair. “Herr Reichschancellor, I am here to serve.”
I hate to admit it to myself, Schloss thought, but I really need this fat German boar.
“Then you can help me come up with an appropriate response to the English.”
“Do we need to kill Churchill?” Goering asked.
“We need to consider that,” Schloss said. “Although, I think it might be counter-productive.”
“I think I would agree. But we do need to do something to get their attention. At this point I see no way for them to win this war.”
“We need to be very careful about making assumptions like that. The Americans have discovered over the past five months how quickly things can change. I saw it over the past couple of weeks with the death of Mussolini. Let me ask you, Hermann, what would have happened if the English had succeeded in shooting my airplane down?”
Goering’s face darkened. “That would have been very bad.”
The Reichsmarshall thought some more. “Herr Schloss, that really would have been very bad. The Germans who would have destroyed our nation are still there. We have subdued them, but we have not won them over. It would be a very dangerous time.”
“That is why we need to bring the English to the table. I sent a back-channel message to Churchill, offering to let him pull his armies out of Africa.”
Goering stared at Schloss. He apparently was thinking hard. “For Australia?”
I never have thought the porcine slob was stupid. He picked up on that quickly.
“Barring a major setback, the Japanese are going to take Australia.”
“And you offered them a way out,” Goering stated.
“I still do not think they can stop the Japanese. The Americans certainly have their hands full. But Churchill rejected the offer.”
“What was he thinking?”
“I do not know. We are now going to have to force the surrender of Montgomery and his forces. And we are going to have to pay to keep them in the stalags, which I also did not want to do. So, you see, we really need to find a way to get Herr Churchill’s attention.”
“I need to give this some thought,” Goering said.
“I thought you might,” Schloss agreed. “But do not take too long. Uncontrolled events are not something I desire.”
Goering choked back a laugh. Herr Reichschancellor, you have a way with words. And I fully agree with your concern about uncontrolled events.”
And, I wonder how long it will take for that phrase to make its way around Hermann’s office, Schloss thought.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
April 10, 1942; 7AM
Over the North Sea
Colonel Hugo Maltese scanned the skies around the formation as the Luftwaffe raiding force slowly descended from its three-thousand-meter cruising altitude. The colonel was the mission commander today and felt the burden of responsibility over a strike that would execute a series of new and untested tactics. The Reichsmarshall himself, Hermann Goering, had visited with him before the raid and explained the importance of what they would be doing. That had not eased his discomfort with the new tactics. In fact, it was made worse when Goering told him that the tactics were suggested by the Reichschancellor himself.
Maltese had a tremendous amount of respect and admiration for Heinrich Schloss. The man had pulled Germany back from the abyss after the death of the Fuhrer, and then had
ultimately succeeded in establishing a new government after the SS coup attempt. But Maltese was less confident in Schloss as a military tactician. Oh, many of the elements of the raid made a lot of sense. Others seemed outlandish. Plus engaging in a daylight raid this far from home without fighter cover was positively frightening. They were counting upon achieving complete surprise, and Maltese was not confident in that either. The arrival of three-hundred aircraft in Bergen, Norway the previous evening should have rung alarm bells in Whitehall. Any Norwegian with a functioning pair of eyes would wonder what was happening. It was easy to assume that at least several of those pairs of eyes had access to a radio of some kind. Maltese had fought the English long enough to understand their cunning. Hearing about a large force of bombers in Norway would lead the English to ponder the ultimate target. It would not take them long to figure out what was going on.
The flights leveled off twenty meters from the water and proceeded on their run into the target. Scapa Flow was one of the major English naval bases. It was reputed to be a heavily fortified and challenging target. Maltese assumed orbiting flights of Spitfires and Hurricanes would soon began savaging his formations. Yet it was quiet, so far.
When the Orkney Islands appeared in front of the windscreens, the formation began splitting up to their separate tasks. The briefing officers had emphasized the importance of Time on Target. They could not give the English respite. Surpassing confusion on the part of the English would be their allies this morning. Maltese began easing the throttles open to bring the engines up to combat power. He would not be running his Dornier 217 at maximum speed this morning, but rather the format would fly at the maximum speed of its slowest aircraft – the Dornier 17s. The ME110s began flowing out ahead of the formation. Their task was flak suppression. They were at the limits of their range so they would have time for only a single pass before returning to Norway.
