Adolf was suddenly uneasy. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew approaching the conference site tonight was a bad idea. He glanced at Ilsa and knew she felt the same thing.
The other members were beginning to get restless; they too sensed something was wrong. Adolf tried to think of something reassuring to say. After all, everything they had worked for years to achieve was waiting for them in the field below.
But before he could say anything, everyone stiffened at the familiar, though still barely audible sound of an Arado Ar.2000. Then the night turned into day, and the sky was alive with the whistle of bombs falling.
The farmhouse turned into a fireball. When Adolf could see again, paratroopers were landing to take charge of any survivors. Although the sounds of screaming couldn’t reach the people on the ridge over the noise of the engines, they all heard it anyway.
“We were betrayed,” Thoresten said stupidly.
“It’s happened,” whispered a woman from Miklos’ group. “Just like we feared. With one strike, they’ve killed us all, and everything we’ve worked for.”
“Maybe not,” said Ilsa, peering intently into the woods below. "I don’t know if everyone just got amorous and went for a walk in the woods or if the farmhouse was a ruse, but there’s a lot of movement down there.”
The others tried to see what Ilsa was seeing. Yes, there were survivors running in the shelter of the woods. The sounds of gunfire being exchanged confirmed it.
“We’ve got to help them!” Rika shouted.
“How?” demanded Miklos. “Against an armored division? All we’d do is get ourselves taken as well!”
“Then you’d better leave it to us,” growled a menacing voice in barely recognizable German.
Then they were all surrounded by what appeared to be a group of walking trees.
Orders were rapidly given in Russian, and about half the new group disappeared down the slope. The remaining ten or so men waved decaying rifles—and a few new spears—at Adolf and his fellows, indicating they should come along. Nearly every man among them towered over Adolf, and even the ones who didn’t looked perfectly capable of splitting him in half with their hands.
Adolf shrugged and walked as instructed. The others followed his lead.
They had met the famous Free Russians.
CHAPTER 25
“So you Aryan geniuses came to save us, huh?” The big Russian sneered at his guests.
The contempt of their rescuers didn’t bother Adolf nearly as much as their smell. There were perhaps thirty or so Free Russians gathered around a nearly smokeless fire in a rough forest camp. Roughly the same number of resistance leaders—just under half of those who had come to attend the conference—were crowded into the far end of the hut.
“We were hoping to make contact with the legendary Free Russians, yes,” said Adolf. “And we hoped by working together, we might save each other.”
It was late afternoon, and no one had slept well recently. The Russians had led Adolf and the others on a difficult journey through the forest that lasted most of the night. Volunteers had returned in the morning to search for survivors, and report the position of the Germans who remained for the same task.
Yuri, the only member of the band who spoke German, acted as translator.
Another Russian spoke. “Ivan,” said Yuri, “wants to know how you plan to overthrow the Reich when you don’t even have enough security to hold a conference without it blowing up in your faces.”
Adolf hoped the pun was unintentional. “Actually,” he said, “I’ve been wondering that myself. I think we all have.” He glanced at what was left of his fellow revolutionary leaders and continued. “I know we’re all pretty shook up right now. We’re wondering who betrayed us, or if this whole thing was a set up from the beginning—and of course, the big question: is there a traitor sitting here right now?”
From the reactions of those around him, Adolf could tell he’d struck a nerve—several probably. The sudden hush among their Russian hosts was a hopeful sign as well.
“I think it’s time we got to know each other.” Ilsa said, her gaze taking in revolutionaries and Free Russian alike. Slowly, they went around the room, like kids around a campfire, and introduced themselves.
“Rabbi Isabella of Portugal,” said a small, dark woman.
“Don’t you mean Rabbina?” asked one of the other delegates.
“No,” she said. “I mean Rabbi. Letting ourselves be divided and categorized is what got us into this mess in the first place. I had hoped to change all that—that is, until half of this the conference ended up dead or captured.”
“We still might do it,” said Adolf.
“Ian MacKinnon of the Highland Freedom Fighters. I came to offer my arm, heart and brain to the cause, but also to beg for any help you might give to my people. They’re sick and hungry, and we fear a new plague’s been tested on our water supply.”
Several of Ian’s neighbors slid away from him.
“Rabbi William. Originally of northern England; now a wandering preacher.”
“Whom do you represent?” someone asked.
“Anyone and everyone who’d like a better life and who’s sick of German tyranny. I have contacts in several underground organizations who could not otherwise be represented here today.”
“I look forward to speaking with you, Rabbi!” said Adolf. Slowly, he could see people coming out of their despair, and reconsidering their options.
“Nikolai of the Greek Alliance. Uh, I think I’m all that’s left of it.”
“My name’s Marla,” said an Aryan girl, barely out of her teens. “I’m from Vienna, and I’ve been fighting this accursed government since they executed my father, five years ago. I brought the blueprints to the Führer’s new summer palace. I was rather hoping we could blow the place up while he was still there, but now…” Her voice trailed off.
“Marla?” cried a voice from across the room. “I’m Felipe! It’s great to finally meet you face to face!”
Marla perked up, and then pushed through the crowd to meet her long time radio contact.
“Gunthar of the South African Aryan Enclave. What’s everyone looking at? Even we’re feeling oppressed these days!”
“That’s a bit hard to believe,” said one of the Poles from Adolf’s group. Again, suspicion flared.
“I don’t know if anyone up here has heard yet,” said Gunthar. “But you know those airborne viruses our Illustrious Leaders released to cull the black Africans? They’re not just killing Negroes!”
“Father Bernardo, originally of Assisi, Italy, now representing any living Catholics who might make their faith known if it were to become safe to do so.”
“What are the Catholics unhappy about?” asked Ian. “Didn’t they agree to support the Reich in exchange for the right to worship freely?” Suspicion again became palpable.
“Catholics haven’t been doing too well lately,” said the priest. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve become the most popular scapegoat in recent years. And even if the pope himself—if there was one anymore—were to declare it righteous to obey the Führer, I would refuse. My conscience demands that I be here, working for the overthrow of an unjust and brutal system.”
“How do you feel about working with the New Jews? Isabella asked suspiciously.
“Fine by me,” said Father Bernardo.
“How do you feel about taking up arms?” asked Marla.
The old man eyed Adolf thoughtfully. “I will put my life on the line gladly, but I will not take the life of another. That is something I’m told I have in common with some of the rabbis.”
“Not all,” said Isabella. “Some of us prefer action. Talk is cheap.” She traded a smirk of disgust with Marla.
Thoresten leaned forward and whispered into Adolf’s ear. “If this is typical of his relationships with women, I can see why he took an oath of celibacy.”
Adolf jabbed Thoresten with an elbow, and applauded the priest.
&n
bsp; There were a few others: a woman named Jessica from the North American Protectorate, a Muslim from Turkey, a pack of teenagers from Holland. Under any other circumstances, Adolf would have been delighted just to talk with them all. As it was, however, he had to somehow find a way to get them working together, despite forty percent losses, and despite the fact they didn’t know how many of their comrades were now in enemy hands, spilling their secrets.
“Thank you all,” Adolf began, making eye contact with each of them. Then he turned to the Russians. “How about our hosts?” He tried to smiled winningly.
They were, he noticed, nearly all men. Three or four were definitely women, and a few he wasn’t sure about. There were no children, nor any who seemed over the age of forty. Their demeanor had changed; they were looking a great deal more impressed with their guests. Several were eyeing Marla, and Adolf didn’t think it was just for her looks.
“We’ve never had much use for grand plans and the work of intellectuals,” said Yuri. “For us, it’s been simple: keep to the forest. Scavenge enough to live on. Shoot any German who comes by. So it was for our parents, and their parents, who fought for Mother Russia.
“But things have changed. We’re fewer than sixty able-bodied fighters. Most of us are sick from radiation and malnutrition. Few children are born living anymore, and those that do don’t thrive. We must face the fact that our time is growing short.” Adolf was not comfortable with the direction this was going.
“But we have one last card to play,” Yuri continued. “Come and see.”
Yuri led both groups away from the camp, a short distance through the trees, to a small hut. Some Free Russians they had not met guarded the unexceptional structure, while others from the main group brought torches. Rather than a door, a section of wall was rolled away so the visitors could see what lay within.
Adolf’s first impression was of a bloated metallic fish with a short stubby tail. Amid the gasps and exclamations of those around him, the image resolved itself into an old fashioned, high yield atomic bomb.
“Where did you get it?” Gunthar asked.
“It fell out of the sky,” Yuri replied, straight faced. A few people laughed. Yuri shrugged and continued. “We’re still not sure if it was meant for us, or just happened to malfunction over our heads. It hit, but didn’t go off. We’ve held onto it for two years, hoping we’ll someday figure out how to fix it—and return it to its makers.”
“How would you deliver it?” asked Marla.
“We have the rocket as well. In another location.”
One of the Dutch teenagers squatted beside Gunthar. “When it went off course, it was probably given a lockout code, to keep it from going off where the Party didn’t want it to. Breaking the code won’t be difficult. If there’s no damage to the device itself—it might be usable.” Gunthar nodded slowly.
“This,” said Yuri, “is how we can help each other. We have the weapon-but no knowledge of how it works. You, on the other hand…” He turned to the rest of the surviving rebels. “How many others of you can work on this?”
The American woman came forward. “I don’t know how much use I’ll be without my stash of illegal books, but I can try.”
“What, exactly, do you have in mind?” Adolf asked Yuri.
The big Russian looked surprised. “Isn’t it obvious? Our final blow for freedom! You girl,” Yuri jerked his chin toward Marla. “Was it true what you said? You know the where the Führer is now?”
“I know where his vacation home is,” Marla said carefully. “And I know he was there five days ago.”
One of the Russians spoke urgently to Yuri. “Ivan says that if we could be sure of killing the Führer, every man here would gladly climb aboard the rocket and drop the bomb with his own hands.”
“It may come to that if we can’t fix the guidance system,” Gunthar called from his place before the device.
“Good,” said Yuri. “It would be the best way to go out.”
“Wait a minute,” said Adolf. “Now, I think it’s great that you have this…resource.” He tried not to think about how much radiation the thing was leaking. “But to use an atomic bomb to kill one man? Isn’t that like using a hand grenade to kill an ant?"
“You have some hand grenades?” Ivan asked hopefully.
“You have an ant problem?” Thoresten said, trying for levity.
Isabella turned to Adolf. “Look, I know it sounds extreme,” she said. “But I believe that under the circumstances, it would be worth it.”
“And it could take out much more than just the Führer,” said Felipe.
“Yes, it will,” said Adolf. “Several thousand innocent bystanders for starters. And probably more than one resistance cell, too. And if, as I would guess, his vacation home is in the Swiss Alps…”
“Austrian Alps, actually,” said Marla.
“Yes, of course. Dropping a nuke on top of that kind of mountainous region…”
“The destruction would be massive,” said Father Bernardo quietly. “And quite impossible to control.”
Adolf nodded to the priest, grateful for an ally. “There are, I think, enough reasons already to sit down and discuss this plan. I’m sure that most of us already have too much blood on our hands to want any more—especially on this order of magnitude…”
“Speak for yourself!” shouted Nikolai. “I haven’t got a problem with it!”
Adolf turned the full force of his gaze on the shaken young man, who Adolf knew was the only survivor of his delegation. “Is this what you and all your friends were hoping to accomplish when you came to the conference?” he asked quietly.
“No,” said Nikolai, looking away.
“What were you hoping for?”
“A way to win. To defeat Nazi tyranny and build something better.” He turned a bleak, and much aged face back to Adolf. “But that’s all over now.”
“He’s right, Rabbi,” said Isabella. “After all our great plans—this may be the only thing left to do.”
“Do you always give up so easily?” Adolf swept his gaze across the both communities. “If so, I think I came to the wrong conference!” He noticed that even Thoresten and Rika seemed uneasy at his back. He was taking a big risk, he knew, but he had only one shot at turning the remnants of this conference away from a futile, suicidal gesture.
“What do you think you can still accomplish?” Yuri seemed genuinely curious now. “You’ve lost nearly half of your leadership! And you don’t know how many were taken alive, so you have to assume that all your secrets are known! What can you do now, but join us? Killing the Führer is no small thing!”
“It may be just the signal those we left behind will need to launch a general uprising,” said Marla. “Even if we don’t live to see it, we can still be the founders of a new age.”
“Führers have been killed before,” said Adolf. “A new one is always found—usually after a great deal of blood-letting.” Then, as he saw eyes light up with a new thought, he added, “And dropping this thing on Berlin in the hopes of talking out the cabinet won’t work either! Nazi machinery is too spread out.”
“All right then, smart guy,” said Felipe, “what do you suggest?”
It was the opening he needed, if he could just make it work. “We came here hoping to forge a plan to overthrow the existing government. It was an ambitious goal then, and it’s even more ambitious now—but it can still be accomplished.”
“How?” asked several voices. They were asking, not arguing. Good.
“Those of us here still represent thousands of dedicated rebels all over the world. Those who were captured,” Adolf swallowed around a lump in his throat and pushed on, “can only betray a few names and meeting places.” He prayed he was right. “That leaves thousands more, primed and ready for the revolution—and now, to avenge their friends.
“Add to that the one thing our fallen comrades cannot betray: any plan we devise now.
“Thanks to our new allies,” Adolf nodded towa
rds the Russians and hoped he wasn’t presuming too much, “we have more fire power than any of us ever dreamed of. My suggestions here are simple.
“One, we come up with a plan to seize control of the universal broadcast network in Berlin. Once it’s ours, we can send out a coded message—something that will be understood by all members of the underground—telling them it’s time to rise up. Our job will of course be made easier by our leaders’ paranoid decision to have only a single worldwide network.
“Two, that we few here devise and agree upon some kind of…constitution…that will serve as the blueprint for a new government. That way, even if none of us survive the coming conflict, our dreams still might—endorsed by our blood.”
Isabella shifted uneasily. “That was very much like the plan we came to propose. I just don’t see that it’s possible now. We’re so few…”
“Not that it would have stood a chance of working had you been many,” said Yuri.
“You seem very well prepared,” Felipe told Adolf. “And very unruffled by our recent losses. Almost as if you were expecting them.”
Ah, the need to uncover traitors in our midst, sighed Adolf. What underground is complete without it?
As if reading his mind, Ilsa said quietly, “You can hardly blame them for their suspicions, given the circumstances.”
“True,” said Adolf. “But they do get in the way.”
“Did you bring this constitution thing with you?” asked Ian.
“No. I had hoped we’d come up with it together.”
Sighs of frustration filled the air.
“We don’t have time for something like that!” cried William. “We’re skating on thin ice as it is.”
Adolf took a deep breath. Here was his chance, and he knew he could blow it all in the next few minutes.
“Then I have a suggestion for a model.” He opened his knapsack and took out the battered, travel stained Torah he had kept with him for three years.
“In here,” said Adolf, holding the book up for all to see. “Is everything we need, in a form most of us are familiar with.”
From the Ashes Page 24