by Erik Foge
“Mad? No, it’s either pure speculation or a figment of your imagination.” Speer approached Erik. “Who are these assassins you claim are going kill the Führer?” He raised his eyebrow.
“I believe it will be members of the SS in the Adolf Hitler Division.”
Speer shook his head in disbelief. “Just like in Operation Valkyrie?” he queried with restrained laughter.
Erik nodded.
“Herr Major, do you realize how crazy that sounds?” Speer looked over his shoulder. “Do you realize how close I am to Hitler?” He glanced at his phone. “With one call to the Gestapo or SS, I can make you disappear.” He pointed to the photograph of Hitler on the wall. “You remember you took an oath.”
“I do and so did you, and I’m trying to do the right thing by informing you, Herr Speer. If anyone would listen I would expect it to be you.”
“Well, you thought wrong. Good day, Herr Major. You know where the door is.”
“My God, Speer, we’re talking about the Führer’s life. He’s going to be killed. And you’re not willing to do anything to stop it?”
“How can I go to him if you have no proof?” Speer said in a commanding voice, “Explain yourself, Herr Major!”
Erik’s heart raced. “Say I am just making this up,” he tossed up his hands, “and he does get killed, and it makes Germany worse. Then what would you do, Herr Reich Minister?”
“I would do my duty as Minister for Armaments and as a German. I would expect you to do the same, major.”
“I recall you met Herr Field Marshal Milch earlier this year, and you wanted to resign from the ministry and spend time with your wife and children. What about their future, or the future of Germany and future generations?”
“Things have changed, Herr Major.” Speer closed his attaché case and started to walk to the door. He motioned for Erik to leave. “Your time is up, major.”
In a last-ditch attempt, Erik recalled something that would happen the next day, the second of October 1944. “Aachen will be attacked by the American First and Thirtieth Infantry Divisions. They will start with aerial and artillery bombardments.”
Speer turned sharply and stared at Erik with scolding eyes. “Get out, Herr Major! Now! I do not need to hear your delusional stories. I must say you really have an interesting imagination.”
“Time will tell if my imagination becomes a reality,” Erik said as he walked by Speer. Then, before he exited the office, he turned back. “Field Marshal Model will be sending a report to Army High Command requesting, if not begging, for reinforcements. Little to his knowledge, Hitler will replace him with Rundstedt and give that so famous order ‘hold at all costs.’” Without waiting for a reaction, Erik strode through the door and out of the building.
He returned to the car and got in, not knowing what to do next. The fact was, he had failed. Walter asked where he should drive him, and Erik shrugged. His options ran through his head: one, let the new history play out with Hitler being killed; two, try to save Hitler, or three, head back to Jamie and live out his natural life. What could I have done differently? Erik sighed; it was in God’s hands now. Right now all he wanted to do was get a good night’s sleep.
“How did your meeting go?” Walter asked.
“It didn’t.”
“Oh, I’m sorry … Do you have a place to stay for the night?”
Erik shook his head.
“You can stay at my parents’ house.”
“Thank you, Walter, but I can’t impose on them like that.”
“Herr Major, it’s perfectly okay.”
Erik looked at Walter’s earnest face and finally agreed.
Walter started up the car and headed down the street. As they drove off, Speer ran out of the building and caught and wrote down the license plate.
Night crept over the city, and people slowly filtered off the streets. They drove past people who boarded up their windows so light wouldn’t seep through, and when they parked, Erik noticed that the street trolleys had stopped running and no street lamps were on, to make it harder for the British to find their targets. Walter’s family lived in a three-story apartment building. The buildings around it showed minor damage, but amazingly it had remained intact.
They entered the small apartment and heard sounds from the kitchen as if someone was making dinner. The living room had a couch with a coffee table in front of it, and Erik noticed a small radio and phonograph with an extensive record collection sat on the sideboard. A hallway presumably led to the bedrooms, and through an open door, he saw a dining room with a small wooden table set for four people.
As Erik stood in the living room, he heard running footsteps that came down the hallway. A young teen wearing glasses appeared, followed by a small-framed man in his mid to late fifties. The older man had gray hair and blue eyes and wore a captain’s uniform. Their eyebrows raised at Erik’s appearance in their living room but quickly relaxed. The captain snapped out a Heil Hitler and did the Nazi salute. Erik returned it. Then the captain stepped toward Erik and offered his hand.
“Good evening, Herr Major,” he said and shook Erik’s hand. “I am Captain Hans Kohl.” He looked to Walter. “I see you have met my oldest son.”
Erik nodded and introduced himself as Major Erik Függer.
Hans placed his arm around his other son. “This is my youngest, Helmut.”
Charged with energy and a big smile, Helmut extended his hand to introduce himself, and then he snapped a salute. “Hi, Herr Major. I am Helmut Kohl, reporting for duty.” Smiles and laughter filled the house.
Erik snapped to attention and saluted back. “What’s your report, Herr Corporal?” He asked, playing along.
Helmut rolled his eyes upward, thought of something to say, and then with his eyes widened, he replied, “Sir, we shot down three American bombers.”
“Great job, Herr Corporal; keep our city safe.”
Helmut saluted, then his father rubbed his head affectionately and instructed him to set another place at the table. “Cäcilie,” He called into the kitchen, “we have a guest.”
“My wife, Cäcilie,” he said when a dark-haired, middle-aged woman poked her head out the kitchen door. He introduced her to Erik, and she smiled and said good evening, then returned to the kitchen. Hans motioned for Erik to have a seat in the living room. “If I had known we were going to have company, I would’ve straightened my house. I apologize.”
Erik flashed a warm grin. “It’s perfectly okay.” He removed his cap and sat on the couch.
Hans took a seat opposite. “What do you do in the Wehrmacht?”
“I am in Sicherheitsdienst.”
Hans glanced over his uniform. “I thought all members of the Sicherheitsdienst were in the SS?”
Without pausing, Erik replied, “I was a member of Abwehr until it was dissolved; then I was placed in the Sicherheitsdienst16.”
Hans leaned forward and whispered, “Herr Major, is it true what they have said about the Russians? Please do not report me to the Gestapo; I do not have a defeatist attitude. I’m just worried about my family. I hope you understand.”
Erik nodded and confirmed the atrocities in detail while Hans’ eyes filled with horror. “You and your family should leave Berlin as soon as you can and head west because that part of Germany will be captured by the Americans and British, but Berlin will fall into the hands of the Russians.”
“I have family in Ludwigshafe,” Hans said. “Tell me, do you think Germany will lose the war?”
“I do, and in my opinion, if Germany loses it’s not going to be pretty. Germany could be divided up in the same way that Poland was in 1939.” Both men felt Helmut approach and looked up.
“Herr Major, you really think Germany is going to be divided up if we lose?” The boy asked.
“Helmut, listen to me.” Erik stood and looked straight into his eyes. “I really don’t know what’s going to happen, but either way, if Germany loses the allies will not treat Germany kindly, knowing
very well that Germany started two world wars.”
The young man protested, and his hands clenched into fists. “The Führer said Germany was forced into war and then Germany was blamed for the first war. History is dumb.”
“Yes, Germany was blamed for the First World War. Why do you say history is dumb?”
“If I was ruling Germany I would smash France and England.” His face grew bright red from anger. His father gestured for him to control his emotion, but Erik motioned to him that it was okay.
“Take a seat,” Erik told Helmut and they sat together on the couch. “So you think history is dumb and you would crush your enemies?”
Young Helmut nodded, stern-faced.
Erik recalled Winds of Change, an episode of The Adventures of Young Indiana Jones. “In 1919, a British historian …” Helmut rolled his eyes upward and Erik grabbed his arms firmly to make him listen. “He said this when he knew the English and the French wanted to crush Germany after the war. Just as you feel about the French and English. He said this…” Erik quoted Arnold Toynbee. “‘You cannot just wipe your enemy out. Years ago, Rome could wipe Carthage out. But now the world has changed. Everything is connected. What has happened will happen again. For better or worse. History now moves in a spiral. These men are trying to force Germany down. But it cannot be done without terrible tragedy. Push Germany down and you’ll pay a price. And one day it will once more rise to the top. But these individuals who are behaving like men with no memories. Those that forget the lessons of history are doomed to repeat it.’”
Helmut pondered for a moment in deep thought. “It’s hard to forgive our enemies. That’s why I want to get in politics.”
“I know it’s hard. Trust me, I do. I’m not saying you let your enemies be your friends, but you have to respect them, and also admit when you are wrong. I will give you two important history lessons. First off, who are the good guys in this war?”
“That is easy, Germany is.”
“Now who are the bad guys?”
“America, England, and Russia.”
“I can see why you said that. Most Germans, like you, both young and old, feel the same way you do, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But the truth is there are no good or bad guys in war.”
Hans injected. “Erik, how can you say that, especially as an intelligence officer?”
“Before I was an intelligence officer, I was a history teacher. You have to understand each government, including our own, believes they are doing the right thing. Therefore, there are no good or bad guys in any war. That even means wars from the past, present, and future.” Erik paused to let his words sink in. “Now for the final lesson about history, my young friend. History has three views: my view, your view, and the truth.” Helmut, Hans, and Walter, who listened in, frowned in puzzlement. “Let me explain the three views,” Erik continued. “Say you are America and your father is England. Let us use the American Revolutionary War from 1775 to 1780 as an example. From your view, you called it The War of Independence. Now, from the view of Great Britain, your father’s view, it was called The Rebellion or The Colonial Rebellion. But the truth is that it was another war that had two political viewpoints. Once again, though, both sides thought they were right.”
“Dinner is ready,” Cäcilie called out and everyone headed to the table.
Hans said, “You are very insightful. I never saw history from that perspective before.”
Erik grinned, pleased that he had changed another person’s view on history.
“Father,” Helmut stated, “when I get to the university I want to major in History and Political studies.”
Erik suddenly realized who Helmut was. Helmut Kohl would be chancellor of Germany when it was reunited in 1989. Erik turned to him and smiled. “I think you will make a great politician one day.”
Everyone sat at the table, and Cäcilie stood in front of the pile of plates and served corned beef hash, the same thing Erik’s mother used to make. He smiled with delight and thanked her as he accepted his plate. Within a short period of time, everyone was eating.
Walter looked around the table; his eyes sparkled with delight. “I have great news, father, and mother. I have been assigned to an anti-aircraft that is protecting a power mast.”
Walter’s family grinned, and his father patted him on the shoulder while Erik forced himself to smile, knowing that Walter would be killed when the power mast collapsed by a bomber being shot down. He ate in silence until Cäcilie asked if he had a family. He nodded and said his wife was pregnant with their first child. Hans raised his glass, everyone followed, and they toasted to Erik and Walter’s news.
After dinner, Erik helped take the dishes to the kitchen and then headed outside, where he sat on the stoop and stared at the stars. He pulled out Jamie’s photograph and the one with them together in 1944 and thought of the happy times they had spent together in Paris. A grin appeared on his face. He looked up at the pale moon and said to himself, “Jamie, I know we are looking at the same night sky; but this time I failed.” He heard the door open, and as footsteps walked up behind him, he used his peripheral vision to see that it was Helmut. Erik motioned for him to take a seat.
“Herr Major, how long have you been in the Wehrmacht?” Helmut asked as he sat beside him.
“Ten years.”
“Are you a Nazi?”
Erik shook his head. “No. Are you?”
A fragile smile crossed Helmut’s face. “No, Sir. I would like to be a soldier like my brother and father so I can serve my country.”
“One does not have to wear a uniform to serve one’s country. Words can be just as powerful as bullets if they’re used correctly.”
Helmut tilted his head and asked, “You think so?”
“I know so, from personal experience.”
Helmut grinned as if he was taking mental notes. “You are very smart. I want to be smart like you when I get older.”
“Then remember what I told you about history.”
“The three points of view?”
“Exactly.”
“Your wife is pretty?”
“Yes, she is. And I don’t know how I got so lucky.” Erik handed over the few photographs he had of Jamie and him together.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because of my career. Who I am. Also, the things she saw that I did.”
“I don’t know you that well, but I think you’d be a great husband,” Helmut said as he handed the photographs back.
Erik glanced at them and then turned the new photograph of Jamie over. He discovered that she had written words of inspiration for him:
My babe Erik, when you’re on your own and you feel the world is against you, remember that I always believe in you. When we say goodbye think of me, think of me fondly until we’re in each other’s arms again. Hugs and kisses.
Love forever and always, Jamie
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Helmut asked.
“I’m going to try to save the world.”
“That sounds like a tough job. How do you plan on doing that?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure going to try.”
“I can help you.”
Erik looked into the boy’s eyes. “You can help by staying home.”
Helmut pouted. “I promise I won’t get in the way.”
Then he motioned Helmut to stay, as he went inside and grabbed the folder titled Die Glocke. Erik’s eyes focused on Helmut, and he stated firmly, “I need you to hold on to this until I get back. Put it in a place only you know about and don’t tell anyone.” Erik waited for Helmut’s reassurance. “Do it now and be quick about it and come back.” A few minutes later Helmut returned.
“Did anyone see you?”
“No sir.”
“Good.”
“What else can I do to help?”
“I need to do something by myself.”
Helmut rested his chin on his hands. “Everyone thinks I can’t do anything.”
Erik thought of something Helmut would say in the future. “A politician once said, ‘I have been underestimated for decades. I have done very well that way.’”
“Who said that?”
“I forgot. Why don’t you write it down and use it if you get into politics?”
Helmut pulled a small notepad and pencil from his shirt pocket and started to write the phrase down. He looked up, “Can you repeat that?”
“Yes.” Erik smiled when he noticed that Helmut had written down what he said word for word.
The door opened and Walter stepped out. “Father thinks it’s best to come in now.”
Once inside, Cäcilie helped Erik and made up a bed on the couch, then the family retired to their rooms. Slowly the voices got quiet and the lights went out. Erik laid in the dark with thoughts that raced through his head. Before long he had a pounding headache.
He thought about how hard it was to look at Walter, knowing he would be dead soon and that he could not even warn him or his parents. At the same time, he knew that his chances of meeting Albert Speer again and convincing him to help him were slim to none. So, what? Let the alternate history play out and do nothing? Then he remembered what his Control Officer Alan told him: “Work hard. Never compromise your integrity or honor.”
It sounded easy, but it wasn’t. In 2005 when he was doing research on Project Rainbow, a project that Erik believed was unethical, he felt it was not right to dishonor the memories of the people involved and he said so, but his actions got him into quarrels with his superior. They told him never to make it personal. But Erik found that hard. He knew of several projects that had killed hundreds of people, and the truth was never told to their families or the media. He knew the truth about these projects, but he couldn’t tell anyone. He had to look the other way because he was under oath. He wasn’t afraid, and he wouldn’t lie, but he would have to keep all the secrets he knew until he died. As he fell asleep, Erik wondered if he would be able to correct history or if he would have to adapt to an alternate history.
* * *
16. German Military Intelligence