Inconsequential Nazi

by Ward Wagher

  Gisela waved her hand as she struggled not to weep. “No, Karl, I understand. This is what Hennie would want us to do.”

  Kirche sighed. “I just cannot understand how this could happen. Herr Schloss is always in such control. He has always seemed to know exactly what to do. And we have been through some tougher times than this.”

  The door opened and Renate stepped into the room, followed by Frau Marsden. Renate walked across to slip into the chair next to Gisela. Frau Marsden remained in front of the door and folded her arms as though guarding against their possible escape.

  “I was just in to see Hennie,” Renate began. “I could not get him to speak to me.”

  “You must allow Herr Schloss four or five days of rest,” Frau Marsden stated. “Following that he will be fine again. He is simply overcome with exhaustion.”

  “How can you say that?” Rainer demanded, his voice rising. “From everything I know, when somebody gets like this, it can take months for them to recover. We do not have months for her Schloss to recover.”

  “In one week, on February 8, Herr Schloss will be back in the office,” Frau Marsden said patiently. “He will be fine. I will see to it.”

  “I find it difficult to believe the word of an old woman in this instance,” Rainer said disgustedly.

  Frau Marsden moved across the room, it seemed in the blink of an eye and stood with her face six inches from Rainer’s. It seemed a coincidence, but a deep rumble of thunder rattled the windows. Karl turned pale but did not step back.

  “Whether you care to accept it or not, Herr Rainer, everyone in this room shares the same mission. That mission is to save Germany from some evil people. Herr Schloss is the necessary tool to accomplish this. No one else can do it. If I am willing to tell you that he will be back in the office in a week, you are in no position to doubt that. Do you understand me, Herr Rainer?”

  “Do you understand, Frau Marsden, that with a snap of my fingers I can have you in an interrogation room in the basement of the SS headquarters?”

  “And do you remember who arranged for you and Herr Schloss to be released from those same interrogation rooms in the basement of SS headquarters? Do you not believe I could walk out of that interrogation room anytime I desired?”

  Rainer continued to glare at the old woman for a long moment while everyone held their breath. Finally, he sighed.

  “Of course, Frau Marsden, I understand what you are saying. But how can you be so certain he will recover?”

  “I know he will recover,” Frau Marsden stated. “Beyond that, I will say nothing further.”

  With that, she turned and marched out of the room. It was very quiet for ten or fifteen seconds before Peter spoke.

  “Well, Karl, do you have any more questions?”

  “Shut up, Peter,” Karl snapped. “This is not funny.”

  “Oh, I agree, Karl. The situation is terrifying. But I also think your interaction with the old lady was amusing.”

  “And with a snap of my fingers, I can have you in an interrogation room in the basement of the SS headquarters. And you would not escape.”

  Renate stood up and stepped over to Karl with her eyes flashing. “Now you have gone too far, Karl. That comment was not the least bit appropriate.”

  Rainer shook his head. “I am sorry, Rennie. I was trying to be funny.”

  “Well, it was not funny,” she snapped. “Not one bit.”

  “Let it go, Rennie,” Peter interjected. “There is too much at stake for us to be sniping at one another.”

  Gisela stood up. “Very well. If Frau Marsden says that Hennie will recover in a few days, I am prepared to accept that. Willem, I would suggest you get a memo out to the Council notifying them that Herr Schloss is down with a cold and will be back to work in a few days.”

  Kirsch stared at her and then glanced over at Rainer, who nodded. “Very well, Frau Schloss, I will get that done immediately.”

  Without saying anything further Gisela turned and walked from the room. Renate looked back and forth between the three men before she spoke.

  “I think all of you were being very inconsiderate of Gisela. She is under a lot of strain right now. When she could not get Hennie to respond to her this morning, she called me. She is nearly ready to go to pieces herself.”

  Peter waved a hand. “Listen, Liebling, no one is trying to be cruel to Gisela. We needed to have a frank conversation about what to do tomorrow, and Gisela inserted herself into the meeting.”

  “And you didn’t think to suggest that she might not be comfortable in this meeting?” She asked in a warning tone.

  “Could you have kept her away?” Karl asked.

  “I certainly would have tried.”

  “We are certainly not getting anywhere arguing about this,” Peter said. “Besides, we are embarrassing Willem.”

  Kirche looked up quickly “I wasn’t embarrassed.”

  “No wonder Hennie is ill,” she shouted, “any one of the three of you would try the patience of a saint.”

  She spun on a heel and trotted from the office, yanking the door shut with a resounding bang. It was once again quiet in the office as the three men looked at each other.

  “So, are we agreed that Herr Schloss is down with a bad cold?” Rainer asked.

  Peter pointed at Willem. “Go ahead and get the memo out. If anyone asks anything further, refer them to me or Karl.”

  “Times like this make me very glad I do not have a wife,” Rainer said.

  “Yes, and I have to go home with her tonight,” Peter said ruefully. “However, if we get Hennie back on his feet, I think things will blow over in a few days.”

  “I am just glad that certain members of the government are no longer with us,” Karl said. “If Goering can keep himself out of trouble, I think we will ride this out just fine.”

  “Speaking of Goering,” Peter interjected, “is he ill or something? He looks terrible.”

  “I do not know,” Rainer replied. “And that worries me, too.”

  “I talk to the Reichsmarshall’s secretary a couple of times per week,” Kirche said. “Let me see what I can find out.”

  “Thanks, Willem,” Peter said. “Just another in a long series of problems.”

  Renate ran up the stairs to the Reich Chancellor’s apartment. Since Schloss had made it clear that she could go as she pleased, no one stopped her from going through the door. She marched down the hallway and stepped into the kitchen where Frau Marsden stood with her back to the counter and had her arms folded across her ample chest.

  “How can you know that Hennie will be all right in a few days?” Renate demanded.

  “Frau Schreiber, you have known me for perhaps eighteen months. Have I not given my best for this family?”

  “But you seem so unconcerned at times. I just do not understand you.”

  “Sit down, Frau Schreiber.”

  Renate slipped into one of the chairs at the small table in the kitchen and glared at the old woman. Frau Marsden moved over to the stove and picked up the small kettle of coffee, which was kept warm on the burner. She poured two cups and set the kettle back on the stove. She set the cups, one on each side of the table then turned back to the counter where she removed the cover from a plate of strudel. She set the pastry on the table between them and sat down.

  “Have I given you some reason to break your trust in me?” Frau Marsden asked.

  “Frau Marsden, you have been wonderful for the children. You have been amazing in your ability to control Hennie. I know of several occasions where you kept him out of serious trouble. Gisela told me about what happened during the coup attempt. What I don’t understand is how you can do all these things and know all these things and still be human.”

  Frau Marsden chuckled softly and slid the plate of strudel towards Renate.

  “I have been on this world for a long time, Frau Schreiber. I have seen much. When Hannelore asked me to be a housekeeper, I saw a family in distress and took an opportuni
ty to make a difference in the lives of these people. Herr Schloss is not only a skilled politician but an uncommonly wise man. When he moved so quickly after the death of the Fuhrer, I made a decision to do everything within my power to see that he succeeds. He is the man who will have kept Germany from going down in ruin. I will not allow anyone, including other members of the family, to get in the way of that goal.”

  Renate broke a piece of the strudel off and nibbled on it. “You can know all this, and say all this, and yet you are a simple hausfrau. Somehow I think you are much more than that.”

  The old woman snorted. “You should know better than to underestimate the simple hausfraus. We have been managing this country for centuries.”

  “So, you are not going to tell me,” Renate said flatly.

  “What more is there to say?” Frau Marsden asked. “I am trying to be very plain.”

  “Very well, then. You may be looking out for Germany, but I am looking out for my brother. If it comes to a conflict between the two, I will stand between you and my brother. Do you understand what I am saying?”

  “There will be no conflict, Frau Marsden said softly. “You will have no worries on that matter.”

  Renate picked up the coffee cup and sipped from it. Her eyebrows raised. “You make the most marvelous coffee, Frau Marsden. Thank you for your time.”

  The old woman gave her a sad smile. “That is what I am here for.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  February 10, 1943; 9 AM

  The White House

  Washington, DC, USA

  “Good of you to see me so quickly, Mr. President,” Cordell Hull said.

  “After I saw the newspapers, I assumed you would be over here this morning,” Truman said.

  “Cheeky of the Brits, I think.”

  Truman shrugged. “They just solved our problems for us, at least in the short term. We can call our people home from the UK and declare victory.”

  Hull breathed heavily. He looked at Truman with a frown. “I cannot believe that you’re going to let them sweep all that under the rug, Mr. President.”

  “Oh, Margaret is not sweeping this under the rug. We simply agreed to lower the visibility of things for a while. Everyone is pretty sure that Churchill is the one that organized this thing. And you know all the reasons why we cannot force the issue right now.”

  “I know,” Hull sighed. “It just seems so unfair to President Wallace.”

  “I understand, Cordell.” Truman stood up, stuck his hands in his pockets and walked around the desk to where he faced the Secretary of State. “It grates on me that we cannot settle this thing properly, right now. But we have a war to win, and if we do anything else even more of our people will get killed eventually. I think President Wallace would understand.”

  “But what can we do about it?”

  “I don’t think you heard me,” Truman said, his voice a bit sharper. “The Queen and I decided to lower the visibility of this investigation. When the time is right someone will deal with the malefactor in question. It may never be made public, but it will be done.”

  “I apologize, Mister President,” Hull said. “I heard you just fine. I was simply letting my emotions get in the way of things.”

  Truman chuckled and touched Hull’s arm. “If you lose your emotion in your job, Cordell, you are no good to me. I expect you to say what you’re thinking. I may not agree with you, but I will not cut you off at the knees either.”

  “Do you think our combined fleets will have a chance in the Indian ocean?”

  Truman rubbed his chin as he walked back around his desk and sat down. “Marshall doesn’t think so. Knox is on the fence. The British have the premier Navy on the planet right now, and they think they can do it. I know they are frantic to rescue Australia, but their strategists tend to be pretty coldly rational.”

  “I certainly hope so, sir.”

  “So do I. Now, tell me about what’s going on in Russia,” Truman ordered.

  Hull bit his lip. “I’m afraid Director Donovan called me out on some things I should have been aware of myself. He is convinced that Stalin is getting ready to invade Germany. When we looked, all the signs were there. But nobody in my shop brought it to my attention.”

  “And why is that, Mister Secretary?”

  “Mister Donovan… Well actually Mister Hoover,” Hull swallowed, “he believes that State is infested with Communists.”

  “Is that true?” Truman asked.

  “I don’t know. What I do know is that there are people with communist sympathies. But I find it hard to believe that they would deliberately withhold information that potentially could harm our country.”

  “Just remember, Mister Secretary, that Stalin is not our friend. Fortunately, he is on the other side of the ocean, and can’t really impact us one way or the other. But we must be very careful with him. If you find proof that we have people withholding information deliberately, you must remove them from government service. If you merely suspected the same, then move them into a position where they cannot harm us.”

  “That I can do, Mister President.”

  “Returning to the subject,” Truman said, “do you agree that the OSS has the best information on Russian intentions right now?”

  “Yes, sir. I believe that to be true, and I am very concerned about what the Russians are doing.”

  “Have we approved the export license for the bombers to Germany?”

  “Yes, sir. We worked with the Commerce Department on this and got it done. We already have German pilots over here training on the aircraft. We are working on shipping the plans for bomber from Boeing to Germany.”

  “If Stalin goes to war with Schloss, he will need those bombers.”

  “Very true, Sir.”

  Truman stuck his tongue in his cheek as he thought. “I suppose we have covered more ground than we expected this morning Mister Secretary. Was there anything else?”

  “No, Mister President. Thank you for your time.”

  After the secretary left, Truman sat at his desk and gazed at the mound of paper awaiting his perusal. The White House staff worked diligently to cull the amount, leaving only the most urgent items for him to look at. It still left a distressing amount of paper that he needed to digest each day. He wondered if the other world leaders had the same problem.

  Truman never expected to land behind this desk. He had thought getting elected to the Senate was a lifetime of achievement for a haberdasher from Missouri. Like anyone in government, he had the occasional idle thought about what he would do if he were the president, but this was something he would not wish upon anybody. He wondered what drove men to seek the office, considering the toll it took on people.

  He also knew he was going to have to consider what to do about the 1944 elections. He recognized he had been given the task of shepherding this nation through the war. He fully expected it to continue past 1944 and decided the right thing to do would be probably to run again or rather run the first time for the office he had inherited. He decided he was going to have to talk to James Farley, the campaign manager of Roosevelt’s 1932 in 1936 campaigns. Although Farley had broken with Roosevelt over the latter’s decision to seek an unprecedented third term, he was still considered one of the powers in the Democratic Party. Truman recognized he would need someone with national reach to help him get a campaign together. And this would have to happen as he was also managing the government and managing the war.

  Truman’s secretary had carved out a couple of hours on this morning to be free from appointments. Cordell Hull had soaked up some of that time, however, the president determined he needed to use the rest of it to the best effect. He picked up the top folder on the stack, opened it, and began to read.

  § § §

  February 13, 1943, 2 PM

  Grosser Tiergarten

  Berlin, Germany

  It was a cold, crisp Saturday in February, and the Tiergarten park in Berlin was a fairyland of snow, ice-covered tr
ees, and snow sculptures crafted by the park’s visitors.

  Misty Simpson walked the path along the Landwehr Canal with her hands deep in her coat pockets. Major Lane, Johnson walked at her side, with his military overcoat buttoned tightly over his uniform.

  “A lovely day, if a bit cold,” she said. “New York City gets pretty raw in the winter, but it seems to be a bit colder here.”

  Lane watched the path carefully. His low quarter shoes were not the best for winter. The leather soles could make walking on ice treacherous.

  “It doesn’t seem much colder to me than the winters back in Illinois,” he said. “Mind you, I don’t think I would like to stay out in this for several hours.”

  She grinned at him. “What’s the matter, Major, you can’t handle a little bit of cold weather?”

  “I didn’t say that. If we had planned to make a day of it, I would have found something warmer to wear. The cold cuts right through this uniform.”

  “I would have thought that you would have brought a winter uniform.”

  “I allowed my Sergeant to pack for me when we left Seattle. Things got into a bit of a hurry. He apparently didn’t think about the winter weather here in Berlin. Of course, he made the same mistake in his own packing. I at least don’t have to shiver alone.”

  “Poor baby.” She smiled to take away the sting.

  “Oh, I’m not making excuses,” he said. “It was my responsibility to double check, and I did not do so. So, I am paying for my sins.”

  They walked a bit further and watched children skimming small stones across the ice of the canal. The cold obviously did not bother them. She looked over at him.

  “You really are shivering, aren’t you?”

  “I was hoping it would not show,” he replied.

  “There is a café or coffeehouse or something along here somewhere. We can duck in there to warm up and get something hot to drink.”

  “That sounds better and better,” he laughed. “I don’t mind accepting responsibility for my mistakes, but that doesn’t them any more pleasant.”