Robert Conroy

by Red Inferno: 1945: A Novel

  Natalie was shocked. “Good lord, why? He hasn’t gotten into any trouble, has he?”

  The only thing she could think of was that he might have blabbed something. It seemed unlikely. Steve understood the need for secrecy as much as she did. The only reason they talked about their mutual interest in the Soviet Union was that both had equal security clearances. Even his letters, which implied that he was doing something important for Eisenhower since he hadn’t returned with Marshal, had been appropriately circumspect.

  Forbes shrugged. “I admit it’s a possibility, but not a very good one. If he was in trouble, he would be under guard, if not arrested, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation on a holiday. Frankly, Natalie, I really don’t know the reason for either the questions or the haste. I was just told to do a quick review and do it now. I think there is the possibility that he might be being considered for higher clearances than he now has.”

  “I thought he was as high as he could be.”

  “Nope, within security clearances, there are degrees within degrees. Now, let’s get this done so I can go home and burn hamburgers. How long have you known him and so forth?”

  Natalie quickly answered all the statistical questions, and Forbes wrote her responses on a small pad. She stumbled at only one point. “Paul, I just realized I don’t know his birthday.”

  Forbes laughed. “September twelfth. He’ll be forty-one. Some girlfriend you are.” He put down the pencil. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask this next question. Have you slept with him?”

  “Paul, he’s in his forties and I’m in my thirties. Neither of us is a virgin.” Although, she thought, he might have been. “The answer is yes. Now, does that make him an immoral and degenerate reprobate?”

  “I’d say it makes him damned lucky.”

  Natalie laughed. Thank God even that pig Haven had enough sense to send the easygoing Forbes to ask questions like that.

  “Natalie, this next line of questioning is a little more serious. In your opinion, why was he so interested in the Soviet Union in the first place? After all, not very many middle-class, Midwestern academics find the subject interesting. With your Russian ancestry, your interest is obvious, but the reason for his is somewhat more vague, and we’d like to know more about it.”

  “Are you concerned that he might be a spy for Stalin? I can assure you he finds both the man and his regime to be highly repugnant. As to why he studied it, he told me he found the Russian Revolution to be one of the most dramatic events of this century, perhaps in several centuries. In his opinion, it ranks up there with the French Revolution of 1789 for its potential impact on the world; and, by the way, there are a lot of people still studying that ancient phenomenon, the French Revolution. It intrigued him and the more he studied, the more intrigued he became.”

  Barnes put away his notes. “Sounds like what I expected. A harmless academic nut with the most beautiful woman in town as a girlfriend.”

  Natalie laughed, then turned serious. “I cannot believe how paranoid the FBI is about people who are different. What they did at work to some very good people was awful.”

  “I can’t argue that too much, and I sure as heck can’t say anything publicly, but I largely agree with you. By the way, I’m sorry you didn’t get the position vacated by your boss Barnes’s death. I guess the State Department isn’t ready for a woman in management.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll live. It was what I expected. There are a lot of people unready for women in power. But I’m still angry at the way your FBI hounded that poor man who was already being beaten up psychologically by the Russians. Why is Hoover so afraid of homosexuals? From the rumors I’ve heard, he’s not always walked the straight and narrow in that regard himself.”

  Barnes flushed and looked over his shoulder as if someone might be eavesdropping on them in her living room. “Natalie, there are some things in this world that we just don’t talk about.”

  “Okay, I get the message. But I still don’t understand all the attacks on people who experimented with communism back in the twenties and thirties, and even later when the Russians were our Allies.”

  Barnes helped himself to more coffee. “Natalie, I know a little about the Russian Revolution too. I know the cruelty of the old regime made revolution as inevitable as rain on a cloudy day, and that the Bolsheviks stole it from the majority, who wanted a less radical form of government. I also understand how people in the depths of despair caused by our Depression could be seduced by a theology that seemed to promise food, shelter, and dignity to people who had none. While a lot of my colleagues disagree, I can see that those people’s motives were caused by frustration and hunger.”

  He shook his head. “They are the ones who couldn’t or wouldn’t see the evil that Stalin had become, and the ruthless manner in which the revolution was enforced. Hell, you know as well as I do that many of those American workers who joined the Communist Party could barely read. All they saw was the glitter of hope and not the substance. You know that some of them even went over to Russia to work in their factories and most of them have returned? Well, a few of them are still there, either because they still believe, or because a couple of wars have trapped them in a strange land.

  “But it’s the other type, the academics and the scientists who were highly educated, intelligent, and, therefore, should have known better. They read the theories of Marx and Lenin, but they closed their eyes when they heard about the massacres committed by Lenin and then Stalin. When hundreds of prominent people disappeared, they should have wondered, and even a dunce could have seen that the trials of so many were charades leading to death. But while many of them left the Communist movement disillusioned and really are of only minor concern to us, a number of others didn’t quit. They are totally unrepentant and rationalize their beliefs by saying that the excesses are either lies or just growing pains, like the Terror in the French Revolution. They feel that communism will, in the end, prevail and create a classless paradise in which people will be free to learn and teach to their heart’s content. The fact that Stalin is a dictator is a mere inconvenience. These are the people who are dangerous because many of them are in positions of leadership and can influence Allied policy. Worse, some of them might be able to give secret information to the Reds. They would be traitors to us, but a true believer in communism wouldn’t be worried about that label.”

  “And you thought my Steven fell into that category?”

  “Someone thought it was possible. I read his record and thought it very unlikely. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to give this report verbally to Haven at his house and have it typed up first thing in the morning. Maybe I’ll still have some time to play with my kids or their mother. Have a nice holiday, Natalie.”

  Forbes showed himself out, leaving Natalie seated on the couch. Oh, Steve, she thought, what have you gotten yourself into now?

  LIS GIGGLED AS Jack pulled her along in the night. She had a change of clothing in a pillowcase and she felt foolish with it. “Jack, you’re going to get in trouble.”

  “I don’t think so. Besides, what can they do? Fire me? Don’t I wish.”

  It was after midnight and the evening was warm. They found the building clearly marked “Officers’ Showers” and slipped inside. “You want to clean up or don’t you?” he asked, laughing.

  Water tanks lined the ceiling and the wall and showerheads emerged below. Lis looked around. “There’s not much privacy.”

  “In the army, there’s no privacy whatsoever, which is why we’re doing this in the middle of the night. Hey, if you want to go back, we’ll go.”

  Jack’s taking her to the officers’ showers was a follow-up to her earlier lament about cleanliness. The engineers had finally repaired the damaged plumbing and set up a flow of clean well water, which had been put to use for cooking, laundry, and bathing. The showers closed down at night to give the water tanks a chance to refill.

  “How much is this costing you?” she asked.

&nb
sp; “Nothing, actually. The sergeant in charge is an old friend of mine. Now, here are the rules. You hang up your clothes on the hooks over there, and you stand under the shower. You pull the rope and you will get thoroughly soaked by very cold water in a very short time, so be prepared and, for God’s sake, don’t scream.”

  She laughed. “I’m too old for cold showers.”

  “I thought I was too, but then I met you,” he teased. “Now, when you’re wet, you take the soap and lather up real quickly, which I’m sure you’ll do because you’ll be freezing. When you’re done, you pull the rope again and another torrent of cold water will rinse you off. It’s crude and fast, but it works.”

  “All right,” she said, looking at all the plumbing in the room.

  “I’ll be out front making sure nobody stumbles in.”

  As soon as Jack was gone, Lis stripped and hung up her clothes. The evening breeze felt refreshing. It occurred to her that not only had she not bathed in a long time, she’d also not had any opportunity to be naked, and it felt good. She wondered what Jack was thinking, just the other side of the wall. She hoped it was about her.

  She stood under the shower, took a deep breath, and pulled. Gallons of icy-cold water drenched her. She gasped and grabbed the soap. This was not going to be a long, leisurely shower. She lathered quickly and thoroughly, took another deep breath, and pulled the rope. This time the water flowed more slowly, but equally cold. Shivering, she grabbed the towel that someone in Jack’s platoon had liberated from the ruins and dried herself off. She dressed as quickly as she could and ran to Jack.

  “I’m freezing. Warm me up,” she ordered, and he wrapped his arms around her and felt her shivering against him.

  “Was it worth it?”

  Lis squeezed closer. “You tell me, kind soldier. You were the one who said I stank.”

  Jack burrowed his nose in her still-damp hair. “I don’t recall saying any such thing. But I will say you do smell bloody marvelous.” He looked around and grabbed her hand. “Now, let’s go.”

  As Jack walked her back to her quarters, Lis smiled. He hadn’t insisted on watching her or even sneaked a peek. Maybe sometime in the future she would let him watch. She stifled a giggle. Maybe she would let him help.

  But next time the damn water would have to be warm.

  THE SUMMONS TO meet Eisenhower had been totally unexpected. Burke had only a couple of moments to straighten himself up before he reported to Beetle Smith at SHAEF headquarters near Compiègne. At least he was fairly presentable and had shaved that morning. He hoped the irritable general would take into account the fact that they were in a war zone.

  Steve snapped to attention and reported to Smith, who looked at him curiously. “Relax, Colonel, no one’s going to bite your head off. Now, have you ever met Eisenhower before?”

  “No, sir.” Burke had seen him, of course, and been an attendee at meetings, but he had never met Ike or spoken to him.

  General Smith continued. “So I suppose you wonder just why you were ordered here to meet with him.”

  Burke forced himself to relax. “It had crossed my mind.”

  “Well, normally I would brief you on what Ike is going to say so you don’t make a complete fool out of yourself, but this time the general hasn’t asked my opinion or given me any clue about what he has to say to you. In other words, I have no idea why you’re here. Does that make sense to you?”

  “No, General, it doesn’t.” But it did sound like the army, he thought.

  “In fact, Ike didn’t even know your name. He just asked me if the skinny professor who specialized in Stalin was still around, and I assured him you were. I told you that so you won’t get a big head just because Ike wants to talk to you. It may be important for national security, or he may have a bet with Patton about what Stalin eats for breakfast. Anyway, that was a couple of days ago, and then he had me review your security credentials. You passed, by the way.”

  “General, I promise you I won’t get a big head over this.”

  Smith forced a small smile. “I didn’t think you would. For an intellectual, Burke, you’re not half bad.” He gestured to Ike’s office. “He’s expecting you.”

  Steve knocked and entered. He snapped to attention, saluted, and reported. Ike was seated behind his desk. He returned the salute and told Burke to stand at ease but did not offer him a seat. This, Burke decided, was going to be a very short meeting with the great man and he was probably going to get his ass chewed. But why the security review if that was the case?

  The look on Ike’s face was grim. This was not the happy, smiling face in the newspapers and magazines; this was the hard-driving war leader, the man who could send thousands of men out to be killed. Ike’s eyes were cold and his voice flat when he spoke.

  “Colonel, I am giving you a special assignment of utmost importance and secrecy. You will note the obvious, that we are alone and not even General Smith is with us. This task, Colonel, is indeed that secret. Upon leaving here, you will be flown immediately to Iceland to see a Colonel Paul Tibbetts. He will provide you with information that you will share with no one, absolutely no one, without my permission. Is that clear?”

  Burke assured him it was. Ike continued. “While in Iceland, you will take directions from Tibbetts and speak only to those he directs you to, and only about what they tell you. Within reason, you may ask questions if Tibbetts permits it, but you may not have to as Tibbetts is putting together a presentation for my benefit with you acting as my surrogate.”

  Burke could only stammer, “Yes, sir.”

  “When you return, you will be asked to give that information to me at a time and place of my choosing. There may be others present at that time or there may not. I haven’t yet decided. Again, I must repeat that you are forbidden to talk about what you learn or even take notes. If you disobey, or even inadvertently fail to maintain security, I will have you court-martialed for treason. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Burke felt himself sweating. What the hell was going on?

  “Colonel, you are doubtless wondering why you were chosen for what appears to be a particularly thankless task. Well, General Marshall left you here thinking that your particular knowledge of Stalin and the Russian mind might prove useful. I agreed, although I had no specific need at that time. Now I have a use for that knowledge and it might help me make some very important decisions.”

  Ike’s expression softened. “Notice, I said I will make the decision. You will provide information that may help me.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “Burke, Tibbetts is an old friend of mine who is part of an incredibly secret project involving a weapon whose potential is so devastating that it could affect the war, perhaps all mankind. Not even I know the details, and your task is to learn what you can readily assimilate about that weapon’s capabilities and limitations, and then advise me as to how it might best be used against Stalin and the Russians.”

  So that’s it, Burke thought. There is a secret weapon. Burke’s expression must have given him away. Ike stood and glared at him from across the desk. “You didn’t look surprised. Did you know about it, and, if so, who the hell told you?”

  “Sir, I didn’t know anything specific, only a hunch.” He quickly recounted his two conversations with Marshall, and Marshall’s reactions when he speculated there was more to Stalin’s motives than pure greed. He told Ike that he felt Stalin knew there was a limited window of opportunity and for reasons that were not readily apparent.

  Ike nodded, his anger dissipated. “Good guess. I can see why Marshall recommended you.” He checked his watch. “I laid on a plane for you, and it should be fueled and ready about now. You probably won’t have to stay more than a day to learn all you need to know about this weapon. When you get back, keep yourself available at all times. I’ll tell Smith not to send you on any errands. Now get going.”

  Burke saluted and started to turn. Then he saw Ike’s hand was out and he grasped it. “Do a g
ood job, Colonel.” This time Ike was grinning slightly.

  CHAPTER 25

  “Here they come again,” Holmes yelled. It was all that an exhausted, hungry, and filthy Lieutenant Billy Tolliver could think of as he looked through his binoculars. How many times had he thought that phrase during the last couple of months? A dozen? A hundred? Only this time, it was a mob scene with people close-packed and making easy targets. What the hell kind of commanders did the Russkies have?

  Tolliver’s platoon was dug in as a rear guard with the Weser River to their backs. Behind them, a steady column of American trucks and tanks crossed the temporary bridge that had been constructed only a couple of months prior in happier times, when the army was whipping the Nazis. Now it was used so Americans could retreat. When the last vehicle was safe, Tolliver and the rest of the rear guard would cross to the west bank and the bridge would be blown up.

  Holmes grabbed his sleeve. “Lieutenant, take a closer gander. Those look like civilians, not Russians.”

  Tolliver shook the fatigue from his brain and looked again. As usual, Holmes was right. It was a mob of civilians heading toward their position. That would complicate things a bit. They would have to frisk them and let as many of them as possible cross before making their own escape and destroying the bridge. What the hell was the matter with those people, didn’t they realize the field they were crossing might have been mined? It would have been had there been more time. Then he realized the awful truth, the reason for the advancing wave of civilians.

  “Holmes, are those soldiers behind them?”

  Holmes moaned. “Aw Jesus, the Reds are pushing them in front.”

  Tolliver looked at the approaching horde of panic-stricken people. The closer they got, the better he could see the Russians pushing them, prodding them forward with gun butts and bayonets. Worse, there were women and children among them. I’m going to be sick, he thought. But what choice did he have?

  “Tell everyone to open fire,” he ordered, then turned to Holmes, who, as usual, had the radio. “Then get mortars on them, fast. Come on. If you don’t we’ll be overrun!” Holmes paled but complied, quickly relaying the message to the weapons platoon.