Germanica - eARC

by Robert Conroy

  Artillery was rumbling in their rear. American spotter planes had found something and their guns were trying to kill it. At night when they were trying to sleep, the rumbling would be accompanied by distant flashes of light. The Americans were not going to leave them alone. “If the Yanks push us, we’re going to have to climb those damn mountains. I can’t climb mountains. Christ, I sometimes can’t even climb a ladder.”

  “I can’t either. Are you suggesting that we should surrender?”

  Hummel finished his smoke and field stripped the butt. He thought about saving the shreds of tobacco in case he had to try and roll his own, but figured the hell with it. He let them go with the wind.

  They were in a foxhole that they had turned into a small bunker. With skills learned from years of experience, they had made it strong and practically invisible. They had solid fields of fire and were confident that they could decimate any attacking force, just as they had so many times before. They didn’t particularly enjoy seeing enemy soldiers being riddled with bullets and turned to bloody pulp, but this was war and nobody wanted to finish in second place.

  Their small fort also had places to relieve themselves, although they joked that it didn’t much matter. It had been so long since they’d been able to wash or put on a clean uniform that their personal stench would overwhelm that of body waste. All the German soldiers were in the same condition. They joked that the Yanks would find them from their smell.

  Hummel just wanted the war to finish. “I would like to surrender, Martin, but I don’t know how to go about doing it. We can’t just tell the others to have a good war and then go walking up to the Americans with our hands in the air. First, the Yanks might shoot us as revenge for some of the atrocities the SS and others have committed, and second, Lieutenant Pfister would have the others kill us before we got twenty feet.”

  Schubert again looked around. Lieutenant Pfister was walking towards them. “What the hell does the idiot want now?” Pfister was a devout Nazi, to put it mildly. They’d heard that the lieutenant had howled like a dog when he’d heard that his beloved Hitler was dead. He had vowed that he and the platoon would die to the last man before surrendering. Sadly, Hummel and Schubert and the others believed him.

  They did not stand and salute when he arrived. The Americans were too close and they had their own snipers.

  “What are you two plotting?” Pfister asked.

  Hummel almost froze before answering. Then he realized that their usually uptight lieutenant was just making a small joke. “We were just talking about some marvelous carnal adventures that we will have when we win this war and get to go home.”

  Pfister laughed. Some days he actually had a sense of humor, proving that he used to be human. “Don’t get your priorities mixed up. Gather all your gear. We’re going to be maneuvering again. As usual we will move when it’s dark so the Yank planes can’t see us.”

  The two gunners nodded their understanding. “Maneuvering” was another word for retreating. “Any idea where we’re going, sir?” asked Schubert.

  “I’ve heard that we’re going to the northern head of the Brenner Pass.”

  Hummel looked intently at the lieutenant. “Sir, when are we going to stop and fight the Americans? I’m sick and tired of retreating. I want to stop and kill the bastards who are violating our nation.”

  Pfister looked impressed. So too was Schubert who knew that Hummel meant not a word of the bullshit he was spouting. He wanted to know when they might make contact with the Americans so they could give up.

  Pfister smiled broadly. “Corporal, our opportunity will come soon enough. When we get to the pass there will be no more retreating. There we will stand and fight. Then we will destroy the swine who have invaded our land and who are violating our women.”

  “That was most impressive,” said Schubert after the lieutenant had left. “It almost brought tears to my eyes.”

  “Not to mine,” said Hummel. “Once upon a time I thought Hitler was God. I thought that Germany would conquer the world and then there would be a true peace, one that would be based on Nazi values. For the longest time I even enjoyed fighting in Poland and Russia. The fire bombings of our cities opened my eyes and cleared my mind. Germany doesn’t stand a chance, if indeed she ever did. I know longer wish to fight for a cause that is lost. I don’t care if Jews take over the world. I want to go home and find my family.”

  Schubert shook his head. He felt infinite sadness. “I just hope we have families to find.” They both came from cities that had been leveled by American bombers. They’d heard nothing from their families and expected the worst.

  * * *

  Harry Truman was still growing into his job as President of the United States. He was mad as hell at Franklin Delano Roosevelt for shutting him out of the decisions that had been made and now had to be enforced by a very inexperienced Truman.

  He had been considered such a nonentity that he’d lived in an unguarded apartment until Roosevelt’s death. Now, however, he had Secret Service crawling all over the place trying to protect him. He’d joked that they even wanted to go to the john with him. He liked to take brisk walks and now he did so surrounded by guards. It was a little unsettling.

  He still hadn’t moved into the White House because Eleanor Roosevelt hadn’t yet left. In a moment of generosity, he’d told her to take as long as she needed and now he wondered if she would ever move out.

  Truman wanted to be furious at the military and diplomatic leaders who’d quietly humiliated him by shunning him, but he knew it wasn’t their fault. It had been Roosevelt’s and they’d had to follow his orders. But why, he wondered, and realized it no longer mattered. FDR had made a pattern of ignoring his vice presidents, so why should his experiences or lack thereof, have been any different?

  He was seated behind Roosevelt’s massive desk in the Oval Office that he’d already decided to retain for his use. Many of the former president’s personal items had been removed, either taken by Eleanor or packed up to be moved. A few pictures of his own wife Bess and his daughter Margaret graced the desk. Thank God he had them as his anchors, he thought.

  A glum group of men looked at him. He wondered if they thought they were having a bad dream and would wake up and find that Roosevelt was still president. Someday he would tell them that he’d had that same dream.

  Shortly after becoming president, he’d been informed that the U.S. was making a super-bomb, an atomic bomb. He’d been staggered to realize just how much money and effort had gone into the project. Almost as astonishing was the fact that it remained a secret. Even from FDR’s vice president, he thought angrily.

  Truman forced himself to smile. “Gentlemen, I trust that the first test of an atomic bomb is still scheduled for mid-July?”

  “That is correct, sir,” responded General George C. Marshall, the Army’s Chief of Staff. He was accompanied by Major General Leslie Groves.

  Groves was very overweight and pear-shaped, which somewhat bothered Truman. He felt that soldiers should look the part. Still, Groves had been the man who’d ramrodded construction of the Pentagon and now the physical parts of the development of the atomic bomb. The unmilitary looking Groves was reputed to be one tough son of a bitch and Truman did like that. Groves was not a physicist, but he understood enough of the bomb to explain the military aspects of it.

  No one was present from the State Department. Edward Stettinius was the current Secretary of State and he was high on the list of people Truman wanted removed. They disagreed on too many things. Nor was anyone present from the navy. The discussion points related to the army only and, of course, the air force, which was part of the army.

  As president, Truman was the first to speak. “General Marshall, General Groves, I think I understand that using the atomic bomb in Japan would be a catastrophe for the Japanese and might bring them to the surrender table. A bomb dropped on a wooden Japanese city would cause massive fires and devastation along with God knows how many thousands of c
ivilian casualties. It would be even worse than the fire-bombing we are now inflicting on them. I can and will accept responsibility for those casualties if the bomb ends the war in the Pacific without the need to invade the home islands of Japan. But what about using it in Europe? How can it be used to end the fighting that is otherwise going to happen in the Alps?”

  Groves was blunt. “I don’t see a use for it in Europe.”

  Truman was aghast. “After all the money we spent on it? And wasn’t it intended to be used against Germany and Hitler in the first place?”

  “Yes, sir, it was,” Groves responded. “And it still would be if there were any proper targets remaining. We planned on dropping it on Berlin or Hamburg, or some other major city. We’d even configured the bombs to be carried by a B29. They are just too big for a B17. There aren’t any B29s in Europe that I know of, although that can be changed quickly enough. The simple fact is, there are no major targets left in Germany and we won’t have enough bombs to throw around.”

  “This Germanica is a legitimate target, isn’t it?”

  “Of course, but let me explain. In mid-July, we’re going to test one of the three we will have and we will do it in New Mexico. We’re overwhelmingly certain it’ll work, but not totally so. I agree with Oppenheimer and the others who insist on a test. We have to know that it’ll work before we drop it. If it fails, we’d look like idiots. That and we’d have given away a lot of our secrets.”

  “That much doesn’t concern me,” said Truman. “If it doesn’t work, our precious secrets won’t be worth much, especially if the bomb was dropped from thirty thousand feet. I imagine the bomb would exist only as fragments. But I guess you’re right. Test the damn thing.”

  “That leaves two bombs left and they are designated for Japanese cities.”

  “But not Tokyo,” Truman said.

  “Not Tokyo,” said Marshall.

  It had been agreed that the capital of Japan would not be hit with anything other than conventional bombs. It was a small honor. The fire-bombings of Tokyo had burned vast sections of the city and killed tens of thousands of civilians.

  “There are other issues,” said Marshall. “An atomic bomb set off in an alpine mountain valley would be somewhat contained by the mountains and its effectiveness would be reduced dramatically. The three bombs that I’ve mentioned are all that we’ll have for the foreseeable future. We will produce more, but not until we determine which type works best. Then there is the issue of Switzerland and her neutrality.”

  “Damn the Swiss,” snapped Truman.

  Marshall was unfazed. In a way he was pleased by Truman’s directness. FDR had the maddening habit of talking in circles and leaving listeners to try and figure out what it was he wanted.

  “Mr. President, any bomb set off anywhere near the German city of Bregenz could cause thousands of casualties among innocent Swiss civilians.”

  “I would rather have Swiss casualties than American,” Truman snapped. “The Swiss have been coddling and protecting the Nazis for too damn long if you ask me. This asinine Republic of Germanica would not even exist if it wasn’t for the protection provided by the Swiss. And now you’re telling me that we can’t use the bomb because of the Swiss? Bullshit.”

  “There are good reasons,” said Marshall, ignoring the outburst. “We all know that high-level bombing is inaccurate. We are planning to drop the bomb from thirty thousand feet but it will not detonate until it drops to fifteen hundred. This means that any mistake by the bombardier or even strong gust of wind could send the bomb off its course by many miles. It is conceivable, but admittedly not likely, that we could wind up dropping an atomic bomb on Switzerland and not Germanica. Or worse, it could detonate in some desolate mountain valley and no one will notice.”

  “Shit.”

  It was Groves’ turn. “Sir, I think we should talk about radiation.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Since no bomb has yet been exploded, no one knows what is really going to happen with radiation. There are those who feel that we could unleash unknown forces that could destroy life on earth. Most scientists, however, feel that the explosive forces of an atomic bomb will be absorbed by the planet without any significant problem. The real concern is the possible lingering effects of radiation. We know that radiation burns and can kill. What we don’t know are the long-term effects. We’ve had some accidents in which men and women have been exposed and burned. Some people have died. Although a large number of scientists believe that radiation burns are like any other burns and just need to be treated, there are those who think that deadly radiation will remain in the ground, or buildings, or human flesh for many years. There are also those who feel that lethal doses of radiation will be spread by the exploding bomb’s shock wave and debris cloud. We simply don’t know what could happen. Some scientists visualize a black cloud of death crossing Lake Constance with a large part of Germany and Switzerland being uninhabitable for generations.”

  Marshall looked even more glum than usual. “I had hoped to use the bomb to clear a path through the valleys and the Brenner Pass. The Germans have built strong defenses in depth. I’d hoped the bomb would simply obliterate them and that our boys would literally walk over the rubble and into the heart of their Germanica. Radiation may dissipate over a period of time, but I don’t think I can take a chance with our boy’s lives like that.”

  Truman swore under his breath. He had seen combat in World War I as an artillery officer and thought he understood bloody death. But not death on the magnitude being described, and certainly not caused by something as sinister as radiation. Workers in watch factories had died from radiation when they licked small paintbrush tips dipped in some radioactive material to make the dial glow in the dark. Many of them suffered from horrific cancers to the mouth that further indicated that there would be long-term consequences.

  American soldiers would not die from radiation poisoning if he could help it. But there was still the terrible equation confronting him. If the atomic bomb, or any bomb, could stop the killing of American boys, it had to be used.

  “All right,” he said unhappily. “We will continue to plan to use the atomic bomb on Japan only. However, we will hedge our bets. I want a squadron of B29s available to fly over this damned Germanica. After we kill some Japanese cities, perhaps the Germans will realize what we can do and how little they can do to stop it. Maybe the Nazis will recognize what a threat the atomic bomb is. Maybe it’ll put pressure on them to surrender.”

  Maybe, Truman thought glumly, the moon is made of green cheese. “And what about Germany’s nuclear threat?”

  Groves answered. “We believe it no longer exists, if indeed it did. We have teams of scientists scouring the areas of Germany we now occupy for their nuclear scientists as well as any facilities for the making of atomic weapons. It is called the Alsos Project and the Alsos teams have seen nothing that would indicate that the Germans have an atomic bomb.”

  Truman nodded. At first he’d thought that Alsos was another secret that had been kept from him. In a way it was, but it wasn’t that major. He had been amused to find that the name, Alsos, was Greek for “grove” and that it had been decided on by General Groves. He hadn’t known the man had a sense of humor. He could only hope that the Alsos information was correct. If what he had found about the bomb was even halfway correct, having it in the possession of an enemy was a terrible thing to contemplate.

  Truman stood and paced. “Then can you guarantee me that this report from Switzerland about the Nazis having an A-bomb in Germanica is nonsense?”

  Groves winced. “I’ve spoken to Oppenheimer and others, and they do not believe the Germans are capable of building an atomic bomb. First, we don’t believe they have the resources and the scientists to build the bomb and, second, they have no means of delivering it even if they were to build it.”

  “Does that mean you are a hundred percent certain there is no possibility of the Germans building one of the infernal devices?�
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  Groves turned red. “Nothing is a hundred percent, sir. It is, however, considered highly unlikely and that the Germans are bluffing.”

  Truman shook his head angrily. “I want one hundred percent. The risk of the slaughter of American soldiers or the destruction of a major city like Paris or London is too awful to contemplate.”

  As Truman was making this pronouncement, another thought was forming in his mind—a thought that he didn’t like one damned bit.

  * * *

  Gustav Schneider was bitterly disappointed by the reception he and his family received on making it through to the Alpine Redoubt now called Germanica. It was unenthusiastic to the point that he thought the bureaucrats in charge had been disappointed by his safe arrival. He had spluttered and complained to no avail. One Nazi Party functionary had even told him that he’d been fortunate to be allowed access. Only important members of the Nazi hierarchy were eligible for rescue, and not the minor ones. Fortunately, Schneider did have at least one friend.

  Gerhard Unger was a civilian administrator in the Redoubt. He reported directly to the still absent Albert Speer and was responsible for the ongoing construction in the area. He was fifty and had once been a physically powerful man. He had somewhat gone to fat but still looked like he could kill with his massive arms. Schneider recalled that he had done so on a couple of occasions when the Brownshirts were engaged in street fights with communists and other riff-raff opposed to Hitler.

  “Gustav, I know you’re unhappy, but you are truly fortunate to be here at all. The criteria for entry into Germanica are very specific. You must bring something significant to the table. Let’s be honest, all you were was a low-level Party functionary and let’s be even more honest. You weren’t very good at it. The only thing you did of any consequence was to administer a group of informers. If it wasn’t for the fact that you and I were so close in the old days, we would have sent you away. Germanica cannot hold everyone in Germany. Our resources are extremely limited.”

  “So, you’re saying I should quit complaining and be thankful.”