Roosevelt had seethed in anger. His only alternative, however, was to use force to expel them and that would have meant declaring war with Hitler. FDR wanted that war, but an attack on the German forces while the U.S. was still fighting the Japanese would have labeled the Americans the aggressor and earned the anger of many in Congress who felt that Japan was the primary enemy. The president had discussed this with congressional leaders and was certain that congress would not approve any aggressive action against the Germans. There were too many Americans of German and Italian descent, along with Americans who hated England, for this congress to act, at least not yet and not without extreme provocation.
Above all, Americans wanted Japan paid back for Pearl Harbor. Great Britain had lost the war with Germany, and so what if they wanted to hand a degree of control over part of Canada to Germany? It was their country, wasn’t it? The presence of a few thousand German soldiers did not represent a threat to the United States. As to the Jewish question, many people believed that the stories of vast killings and systematic massacres were the strident cries of Zionist extremists trying to get the United States to fight for them. Many felt that the Zionists were so desperate to get their homeland that they’d lie to achieve it.
Now, however, there were upwards of two hundred thousand German soldiers in Canada and the number was growing each day. The Germans had a formidable force in Canada, one that would be hard to expel without a major effort and much bloodshed. However, it might just come to that.
British code-breaking efforts had moved from Bletchley Park in England to Camp Washington and were again beginning to bear fruit. It was clear that the Germans were planning aggressive action against the United States and in the very near future. The only questions were why and precisely when?
FDR had a devious mind and he felt he understood his enemy. Code breaking transcripts called “Ultra” helped shape his thoughts as well.
"The Germans don't want the Japs to fail,” he said, “at least not yet. They want time to consolidate their conquests. They have millions of men stationed all over Europe from France to the heart of Russia and the Balkans. If they show weakness, they are afraid that the conquered peoples will explode. Our ambassador to the Soviets says that the Red Army is re-forming itself and might be ready for offensive action by this coming summer."
Marshall did not agree. "It'll be longer than that, perhaps much longer. The Russians are having a very difficult time feeding themselves, much less building up their army. They moved a large part of their population and much of their industrial capacity to a desolate region of their country that cannot support their basic needs. What they have accomplished was a marvel of hard work and ingenuity, but they need a lot of help."
FDR smiled, "Which they might just get if, when, Japan falls. If we wish we will then be able to reinstate Lend-Lease using the Siberian port of Vladivostok, as well as routes through Iran as back door ports of entry. We would only ship humanitarian supplies, such as food and medicine, of course." He chuckled, "At least at first. Germany wants us unable to support Russia, so she is willing to chance a war with us and utterly defeat the Red Army and conquer the rest of Russia before we can enter the fray on behalf of the Red Army. If that happens we would be even more isolated than we are now. Besides, general, isn’t our source of information about Russia coming from Nazi code intercepts? How do we know that the German’s information is accurate? The Reds could have a monstrous army at their disposal."
Marshall's face showed his displeasure at being doubted. "I concede the point, sir, and I hope the Russians are ready to take on the Nazis, but I still doubt it. I further believe it would be utterly impossible to ship enough supplies via those lengthy and convoluted routes to make even a dent in Russia's needs. It doesn't make sense."
"Hitler doesn't make sense either, does he? He's like the dog who chases the car and, when he catches it, doesn't quite know what to do with it. He has conquered virtually all of Europe and now sees shadows. He has utter contempt for America, so he isn't concerned about us being able to expel his army in Canada before he can send in massive reinforcements."
Marshall concurred. "And he is under tremendous pressure to release some of his enormous army and get Germany back to peacetime prosperity. None of this can happen while he perceives threats from us or Russia."
"Or Britain's Commonwealth nations," FDR added. "Herr Hitler wants a final peace with England and the British are doing a marvelous job of stalling. To prove his point, Hitler has taken a part of Canada and is holding it hostage. What will be next? Ah yes, South Africa and then perhaps India. Germany would have allowed the Japs to take Australia and New Zealand, but we’ve stopped them so that isn’t going to happen. We must have war with Germany, but, general, whatever happens regarding Canada, the Nazis must be the aggressor."
"I understand, sir. But my people, along with Admiral King's, will be ready to retaliate as immediately as is humanly possible. With knowledge of their plans, we will be hitting them back much sooner than they expect and with much greater force."
FDR nodded approval. "It would help so much if we knew a precise date."
"Perhaps they don't know it either," the general mused. "Perhaps they are waiting for their forces to be stronger or perhaps they are waiting for pieces of the puzzle to fall into position."
"Which means, general, that we don't know all that we wish, doesn't it?"
"Correct, Mr. President. We simply don't know what additional surprises Herr Hitler might have up his sleeve."
Chapter Five
Missy Downing decided that it was time for everyone to have a little fun. War or no war, Christmas and New Years had come and gone with minimal celebrations. A few pathetic little Christmas trees had dotted the Pentagon and Missy, a plump, happy little woman with graying hair, felt there should be a break.
Thus, she proclaimed a party and invited a number of her and her husband’s friends and co-workers to their house at Fort Meade. Fortunately, it was a good-sized four bedroom colonial. The only requirement was that there would be no uniforms. She wanted none of what she told her husband was that "rank bullshit" interfering with people having a good time. He concurred and all complied although some, like Sergeant Major Farnum looked like fish out of water in civilian clothes.
The army had what she considered a ridiculous rule against enlisted men and officers drinking together, so she informed everyone that enlisted men and officers would drink separately. If they happened to be in the same room and talking to each other while they were doing it, well, so what? Besides, it was her house, her booze, and her rules. There were no complaints.
The weather outside was cold and damp, but inside it was warm, congenial, and loud. Someone was playing Andrews Sisters songs on the record player and that added to the din. Tom was nursing his second beer when he did a double take. If it wasn't for the bandage on her nose and the discolorations on her face, he wouldn't have recognized her. She still had stitches visible on her mouth, but they too seemed to be less raw. Better, she had fixed her hair and was wearing a long pre-war dress that hugged her figure, confirming that she had great legs without actually putting them on view. She was with a couple of other women and her face lit up, or so he thought, when she saw him.
"You're looking great," he said.
"Thank you. Even the memories are fading."
"I didn't know you knew the Downings that well."
"Missy called me a couple of times to ask me how I was doing. We hit it off. Even went to lunch. She's impossible to dislike and virtually insisted that I come to her party."
There was a pause. "You know," Tom said. "I don't know quite how to do this. I'd like to talk to you some more, maybe buy you a free drink, and get to know you, but?” He shrugged.
She laughed and interrupted him. "You're worried about the rank thing? Aren't we supposed to drop rank for this evening?"
"Yes, but let's face it, it's almost impossible. Can you imagine Sergeant Farnum calling me Tom and me calling him Dick?
And the colonel, of course, will always be the colonel."
"You're right. Look, I'm still relatively new to this woman's army and I really don't know how things work even though I am an officer. Also I'm not going to make it a career, so it won't matter so much if I make a faux pas. After what happened, it wouldn't break my heart if they discharged me and I went back to teaching spoiled adolescents. So what if we quietly agree to use our first names for this evening and see where it goes."
Tom was delighted and she continued. "By the way, I've been told that I may be put in for a Purple Heart, although it may have to wait until we actually start fighting the Germans. Certainly the two men who were with me deserve it."
Tom thought he saw the conundrum. If the army gave her the medal for being wounded in action, they would be admitting that they knew the assault was by Germany, which would inform the Nazis that the U.S. was on to their game. Deferring the medal wasn't fair, but it would have to do. As the old saying went, life isn’t fair. The way things with Germany were deteriorating, he didn't think she'd have all that long to wait before she got it.
They grabbed another drink and went outside. The veranda was cold but relatively private with only a handful of people getting either fresh air or privacy. Missy had also declared no smoking in her house as it was so crowded, so clouds of cigarette smoke wafted upwards. He rarely smoked and she said she never did, and that was fine by him.
"Alicia, do I sense that you are disappointed with your role in the army? If so, there are several million other men and women who feel the same way."
She laughed and he liked the sound. "I think that frustrated is the better word. I was a musician and a music and art teacher and was told that my skill as a musician might enable me to be good at codes. Turns out that didn't work, so I was promoted and became a glorified messenger. Look, Tom, I don't expect to be sent to combat or command men, but we women are definitely second class members of the army, and I don't just mean pay and benefits. I don't think I'm being overly sensitive when senior officers call me 'girl,' or an enlisted man salutes me extremely sloppily while mentally undressing me. I think I have a good mind and would like to use it."
"I can't walk in your shoes and I have to admit I never gave your situation much thought at all. Before I hurt myself by saying anything more, may I change the subject? You said you were a musician, what do you play?"
"The violin. My dream was to be the lead violinist with some major symphony, like playing for the NBC Symphony and Toscanini, and doing it at Rockefeller or Carnegie, or be recorded by RCA Victor. That dream isn't coming true either. I'm very good but not good enough. When this is over I'm pretty certain I'll be able to play for a smaller symphony and maybe teach at college instead of the small girls’ high school I used to. I went to the University of Virginia and graduated with good grades, and that ought to count for something. I even played soccer and lacrosse for a local club so I’m not exactly a sissy."
Tom thought that she was good enough for him, but now was not the time to say it. "Alicia, I know you think that all army officers are barbarians who've cut their hair short and just learned to shave as well as walking upright, and this may come as a shock — but I like classical music."
"Good lord," she said with a laugh, only stopping when her wide smile stretched the stitches on her face.
"Will you play for me someday?"
She took his arm and steered him back inside. Nobody had asked her to play for them in a very long time. She would have to practice.
"Yes," she answered with another try at a smile, "but not tonight and not here."
Sounds rumbled in the distance and lights flashed in the night. It wasn't lightning and thunder. Something nasty was happening out on Lake Ontario. Canfield cursed the fact that even the best binoculars couldn't penetrate the dark. Worse, snow flurries were obscuring what visibility there was.
"Fucking Nazis are shooting at something," Dubinski said. "Correction, they're shooting at someone, not something. That ain't target practice."
True enough, thought Canfield as he shifted his bulk. It was cold and wet lying on the ground, and there was a foot of snow penetrating what the army insisted was winter gear. He could handle it, though. He didn’t regret volunteering to stand watch. If the troops could handle it, so could he. In another hour they'd be relieved and could go get warm and dry while whatever was happening out on Lake Ontario continued.
"Sir, they're getting closer," said one of his men and damned if he wasn't right. The brawl was getting very close to American property and what had to be German ships were well within American waters.
Canfield told his radio operator to inform the colonel and ask for instructions. As he waited, the situation and the view became clearer. The damned E-boat was back and it was shooting at a number of shapes on the water, and there were small flashes of light from a few of the shapes which meant they were firing back. What the hell?
The radio operator gave the headphones to Canfield who was instructed to fire a warning shot, but to make sure to miss the E-boat. "And what if he fires back?"
"Use your judgment" the colonel said from the safety of a headquarters several miles inland. "If he's shooting for real, you can do likewise; just don't go starting World War II in Canada."
Canfield grinned. Even though he was going to fire a shot across the enemy's bows, he had a weapon that would make the kraut think twice. He'd borrowed a 75mm cannon and its crew and despite the fact that it was an 1897 model, he was certain it would put the fear of God into the Nazis. The metal shield that would have provided some protection for the gun crew from return fire had been removed by its owners, and that concerned him.
The E-boat was now a defined shape. The 75mm gun captain had his orders and fired. The shock of the cannon was followed a few seconds later by a splash landing a hundred yards away from the German.
The E-boat turned and fired her 20mm and 37mm cannon in the direction of the American gun's flash. Shells impacted, throwing up clouds of dirt and debris, and someone screamed.
"Son of a bitch," yelled Canfield. He ran over to the gun. One man was dead and another wounded. The lieutenant in charge looked shocked. "Can you still fire this thing?" Canfield yelled. The young officer shook himself back to reality and said he could. "Then sink that God-damned kraut."
The seventy-five was a relatively quick firing weapon. Shell after shell poured out from her in a coolly measured cadence. Canfield grinned. The young lieutenant clearly knew what he was doing. The German captain saw what was happening and returned fire, but quickly decided he was outgunned. The E-boat turned to the open lake, her three Daimler Benz engines roaring. Canfield was going to order a cease-fire when one of the shells struck the German boat on the stern. Explosions and fire followed and the Americans cheered. The E-boat slowed but continued on out towards Canada and safety.
This time the cease fire held. The Americans waited by the icy shore while a small number of civilian motor boats approached. They were jammed with terrified people and some had been badly shot up.
While some of Canfield's men kept an eye out for the Germans, the rest of them helped several dozen men, women, and children onto safe ground. A number of the men had shotguns and pistols. Several people were wounded and a couple of them were clearly dead.
"What the hell is going on?" Canfield asked.
A dignified and bearded man in his fifties looked at him gratefully. "We are Jews, major. It is beginning."
Adolf Hitler had made one of his infrequent trips to Berlin, a city he despised. To him it represented the depravity and corruption of the Weimar Republic. The citizens of Berlin had reciprocated by giving only nominal support for the Nazi Party and its subsequent wars. Their concerns had been reduced as victory after victory occurred, but the populace was still only lukewarm towards him and desperately wanted peace. They also wanted the return of their sons and brothers, many of whom were still freezing in trenches confronting the Red Army in the gateway to Siberia.
"Tell me the truth, admiral, can your ships defeat the American navy, especially if it is reinforced by the battleships and carriers of the Royal Navy?"
Raeder smiled and turned away to hide the expression on his face. "When the time comes, we will overwhelm them with our U-boats and send both their navies to the bottom of the Atlantic. We will not have to worry about sinking tankers and freighters, although we will do that of course. Enemy warships will be our target and we will have more than two hundred U-boats on hand at all times to send them to the sink them. We will even have our aircraft carrier, the Graf Zeppelin, ready to assist along with our capital ships."
It was Guderian's turn to smile. "As I understand it, admiral, the carrier is a small one when compared with the American fleet carriers and, besides, it is our only one. Her sister ship, the Peter Strasser, was scrapped, which does not imply that there is a great deal of confidence in our aircraft carriers. Also, our remaining capital ships are few. The remnants cannot stand up to either enemy alone, much less if they are joined."
The admiral flushed at the truth. "They will suffice."
"How will you keep the U-boats supplied? Our army in Russia is suffering because of the vast distances between our factories and the front lines along the Volga.” He didn’t bother to add that Russian partisans were tying down more than a half million German and allied soldiers. “The distance between our French bases and North America is almost as great."
"Don't worry, my dear general, we will have a number of supply ships shuttling back and forth with food, torpedoes, and anything else our brave captains require. There are even plans for a couple of floating brothels. Since you have concerns about the Kriegsmarine's ability to succeed, what about von Arnim's small army that is about to take on the entire United States military? What chance does it have of success?"
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