Germanica

by Robert Conroy

  * * *

  Is there really a war on? thought Tanner. This day was just too idyllic for words. He and Lena were sitting on a blanket spread on the grass in a field and having an old-fashioned summer picnic. They were a few miles away from their workplaces and living quarters. Better, the weather was cooperating. It was pleasantly warm and the sun was shining.

  It was the first time he’d been with Lena on a totally social basis and he’d been as nervous as a high school sophomore about asking her. Then, he’d been as pleased as a little kid when she agreed.

  Tanner had gotten some good food from the cooks—fried chicken, potato salad, and apple pie with ice cream. A bottle of decent Rhine wine completed the picture.

  Lena looked up at the blue sky and smiled. “You have no idea how many times I wished for the simple freedom to be able to do exactly this.”

  “And with me?” he asked with an impish grin.

  “Of course I didn’t know you then, but definitely with somebody like you. And that reminds me. You call me Lena and that’s correct, but how do I call you? Should I say Tanner or Captain Tanner or Scott, or, God help us, Scotty.”

  Tanner laughed. “It’s always been as if I never had a first name. Everybody who knew me always called me Tanner. I would be very happy if that’s what you did.”

  “Then Tanner it is, Tanner. Except when we are on duty and then I will remember your rank.” She looked around again. The not so distant mountains were sharply visible. “And I did not come with you just for the chance at some really good food, although that did help. I think you wanted to know me better and I felt the same way. Or am I being too forward and European.”

  “I think you’re being just great.”

  He also thought she looked great. Instead of the semi-military uniform she normally wore, she’d somehow scrounged up a white blouse and a full blue skirt that still showed enough of her shapely legs. She’d mentioned that she’d liked dancing and it showed in her lean muscles. Now that she no longer was a refugee, she no longer looked like one. She had a lovely trim and proportioned figure. He was also pleased that, unlike many European women, she did shave her legs. With her dark hair, it might have looked very strange to an American. She had no stockings. Few women did. She had attracted a lot of attention when he’d picked her up at the tent she shared with seven other women and drove her in a jeep to the picnic site.

  “Someday I would like to go back to Prague,” she said wistfully.

  “I don’t know if I can help, but I’ll try. You may have to wait a while. The Red Army is still setting up shop and things could be nasty until they really get the place under control.”

  She leaned over and patted his arm. “I understand. I really do rather doubt that my father is even alive, much less waiting for me in Prague. Still, I would like to find out what I can.”

  “Understood.” She had told him that Father Shanahan was going to use the Red Cross to help, but there was no Red Cross setup that she knew of in Prague. He wished that she hadn’t let go of his arm. God, he was again acting like a kid and he had the feeling she knew it and was laughing at him.

  The day became evening and they talked about life, their pasts, and whatever futures they thought they might have or wanted. He already thought he knew the details of her life before the war and as a slave with the Schneiders, but she elaborated. She held his hand tightly while she told him, purging herself and crying a little. He wanted to kill the Schneiders, but she said no. The Schneiders were not worth it.

  He drove her back to the tent where a couple of her other tent mates were lounging and trying not to stare.

  “Come with me,” she said taking his arm and leading him to the tent. She stopped and looked in. “Both of you, out of here,” she said laughing.

  A few seconds later, a pair of women came out, stared and smiled at Tanner. Lena took his hand and led him into the tent. The heat was stifling. “Have you ever seen anything quite so grand?”

  Eight cots were set up in no apparent order. Clothes were strewn about and duffle bags hung from hooks. A bra lay on one cot. He asked if it was hers and she laughingly said no. “I am not a slob. All my things are put away.”

  “You are right, though, Lena, this is truly magnificent.”

  She didn’t bother to smile. She simply slipped into his arms and they kissed. The first one was most pleasant, even tender. The next few were much more passionate. She pulled away but kept smiling broadly.

  “While it’s tempting, dear Tanner, I am not going to make love to you on an army cot with seven other women hanging around.”

  He kissed her on the forehead and hoped that his erection would go down so that he could get to the jeep without drawing too much attention. “I will work on it. Maybe I will find you a palace for rent in Innsbruck.”

  * * *

  Ernst Schneider entered the small apartment he shared with his wife and their two grown children. At least he lived in the sunshine of Bregenz and not in a cave like so many others were forced to. He couldn’t decide if he felt foolish or terrified. His wife did not share his indecision.

  “Good lord, Ernst,” she gasped, “what is that you have and what have you gone and done?”

  “This is a Panzerfaust,” he announced proudly, holding out the several foot long tube-shaped device. “It is a tank killer and I am now a captain in the Volkssturm and this is one of the two weapons I’ve been issued. The other is an old Mauser rifle and they gave me a few dozen rounds of ammunition.”

  “But why?” Gudrun asked. “Have things gotten so bad that the Reich has to enlist older civilians and men who are veterans of the first war?”

  “I am not old,” he sniffed. “I am barely forty. And if I can help defend our country, I will do exactly that. The army is considering drafting men as young as our Anton.”

  Gudrun rose quickly from her chair. Ernst could not help but notice how much spryer she was since she and all the others were now on an enforced diet. She had lost thirty pounds and he twenty. Both Anton and Astrid had also slimmed down. It was almost impossible to find a fat person in Germanica. This had led to numerous jokes about how Herman Goering would look if he had made it to the Third Reich’s last hope.

  Gudrun took a deep breath and composed herself. “I did not mean to impugn your manhood, dear. I am just shocked that events have come to this. Wasn’t it just a few months ago that German armies were on the verge of conquering Russia and North Africa and then on to the rest of the world? What has happened?”

  Ernst scowled. “The filthy stinking Jews happened, that’s what. The Jews and the communists have taken over this war and that is why it is so important that we win so that we can ultimately destroy them. We started sending them to the camps far too late. Can you imagine what it would be like to live in Germany under the vengeful rule of those people? I will fight, and if necessary, I will die.”

  “I hope it won’t come to that,” Gudrun said softly. “I still can’t believe that you would be able to use a Panzerfaust. You’d have to get so close to an American tank for it to be suicide. At least with a rifle you can kill from fairly far away.”

  Ernst smiled. He’d already decided that he would not get close to an American tank. He would either fire the thing from a distance or give it to someone else to use, someone young and foolish. “Spoken like a true German woman. By the way, I am considered an officer with the rank equivalent to a captain. Right now I only have a couple dozen men under my command and, yes, some of them are boys, but that will change. I will have more.”

  “Just so long as one of them is not Anton. He is still getting over being assaulted by that Jewish bitch. If I ever see her, I will claw her eyes out.”

  “If you ever see her, it may well be because the Americans have conquered us. More likely she has gone back to wherever she came from. She was Czech and has doubtless attempted to return home. I believe she once mentioned she was from Prague. The Russians are in Prague and I can only hope they have taken her and are fu
cking her day and night.”

  Gudrun laughed. “You are still quite crude and you always will be, but I am in total agreement with you. Since Anton and Astrid are out working, we are quite alone in this tiny palace. Why don’t you lock the door and we can celebrate your promotion.”

  Ernst grinned and they both began to undress. “I hoped you might feel that way so I brought a bottle of schnapps.”

  “Only one?” Gudrun asked.

  * * *

  There was muted uproar in the ready room. To say that the pilots were dismayed was putting it mildly. As usual, George Schafer was one of the more outspoken.

  “Nothing personal, Colonel, but what asshole thought of this idea?”

  Colonel Trent shook his head tolerantly. Tight discipline did not exist in the air force and each pilot felt he was entitled to speak his piece. “I believe the asshole was from the Pentagon and was routed here by the Eighth Air Force.”

  Schafer was not impressed. “That’s a great pedigree, sir, but it doesn’t change the fact that radar bombing in the mountains at night is going to kill a lot of American pilots and one of them might just be me.”

  The United States Army Air Force, to use its full name, had recently developed a small radar set that could be attached to a fighter like the P51s the pilots in this group all flew. It had been derived from and was an acknowledged improvement over similar radars that had been used by the RAF in detecting German U-boats. The German subs had to surface to charge their batteries and, since they were quite vulnerable during the day, they did so at night. With the radar attached to a low-flying bomber, the bomber could strafe and bomb a sub as soon as radar found it. Powerful searchlights were also attached to the bomber to improve aiming and possibly scare the hell out of the sub’s crew.

  “So elaborate for me just what you think is wrong with this idea?” the colonel asked.

  “Sir, it’s really quite simple. It’s one thing to locate and bomb a ship on a nice flat ocean, but it’s totally another to find and hit a tank in a valley surrounded by mountains. And don’t forget that the wind might just be blowing like hell. And we are supposed to fly a plane under those conditions? And actually hit something and survive the experience? My wingman and best friend got shot down in the Brenner and was fortunate to live to tell the tale. Will he be fortunate a second time? Will I be lucky? I don’t like to plan on luck.”

  “We have our orders, Lieutenant.” The colonel’s tolerance was getting thinner with each statement and question. What made it worse was the fact that he agreed with his pilots. The idea was lunacy. But orders were orders.

  “And we will obey them to the letter, sir. But don’t expect reckless enthusiasm. I would imagine that any pilot who senses anything whatsoever wrong with his plane is going to abort the mission and fly straight home.”

  Trent’s face was turning red. The other pilots in the room began applauding, which didn’t help his disposition one bit. It was one thing to be tolerant, but quite another to permit insolence. Still, Schafer and the others had a point. They could not be expected to fly planes that were malfunctioning and, at high altitude, only the pilot would be the judge as to whether something was wrong or not. And what the hell kind of raid could he launch if twenty percent or more of the pilots opted out because of real or imagined malfunctions?

  He remembered a military doctrine—never give orders that the men won’t carry out.

  Trent stood and the pilots did as well, although slowly. “I will discuss your concerns and mine with the powers that be,” he said and walked away with as much dignity as he could muster.

  * * *

  The prisoner was shackled to a bed. He was naked and his body was covered with only a sheet and there were cuts and bruises all over his very hairy body. To the doctors and nurses he looked like a pink ape. Completing the scene, he stank to high heaven. He had been found in a trench surrounded by other Russians, all dead. They had fought like tigers and refused many offers to surrender. This one hadn’t surrendered either. He had been knocked unconscious and taken prisoner while helpless.

  Doctor Hagerman gave up trying to hold his breath to avoid the stench. He made a note to get the man bathed while he was chained. “I’ve always wanted to see a Russian. I just never realized it would be under these circumstances. Don’t let appearances fool you,” he said to the others. “He’s not badly hurt at all, he’s strong as an ox, and, yes, he’s listening to every word we’re saying even though it’s highly unlikely that he understands a word of English.”

  Tanner leaned over. “Comrade,” he said and got no response. “Spasibo. Vodka.”

  That last word got a flicker of a response. The man opened his eyes and glared at the two men with feral hatred.

  “I hope you speak Russian,” Hagerman said.

  “You just heard my entire Russian vocabulary. I’ve asked around and still haven’t found anybody who really speaks Russian.”

  “Are you telling me there’s a language the lovely Lena doesn’t speak? I’m stunned.”

  The Russian snarled and began to speak, this time in German. His German was poor and he had to speak slowly so that Tanner and the others could understand him. He said that he wanted to die and would they shoot him before the Red Army did. He said that the Reds might just shoot him right off, but not likely. He said that Stalin’s monsters would torture and starve him, maybe for years, before finally killing him. He added that Stalin’s thugs had likely already murdered his family. He had nothing to go home to.

  Hagerman was puzzled. “Why on earth would the Russians do that to their fellow Russians?”

  “Vlasov,” said Tanner and the Russian nodded vigorously.

  Tanner continued. “Andrei Vlasov was a Red Army general who thought he was betrayed by Stalin so he went over to the Nazi side, taking thousands of Russian soldiers with him. He felt that he was actually fighting against Stalin rather than for Hitler. His forces were called the Russian Liberation Army and were about the size of a corps, and the prisoner is right about Stalin wanting them all dead. Worse, there’s a treaty between the U.S. and the Reds saying that all of them would be forcibly returned to the Soviets. That Stalin would murder them is a given.”

  “Is this Vlasov still alive?”

  “No idea, but unlikely.”

  Hagerman was shocked. “Jesus, no wonder they fought like animals. But doesn’t it make sense that we should induce them to surrender to us and tell Stalin to go to hell?”

  “Good idea, Hagerman, and the next time you see Truman why don’t you tell him. All this stuff is way above our pay grade. Besides, there’s another issue.”

  “And what is that?” Hagerman asked.

  “Vlasov’s troops, what remain of them, are supposed to be to the east. What are they doing in the Brenner Pass?”

  “I don’t know but you’re going to tell me, right?”

  “Absolutely. There have been rumors that the Germans were withdrawing from the Eastern portion of the abortion called Germanica. This is the first concrete indication that the rumors are correct. I think they’re afraid that we’ll cut Germanica in half and leave about a third of their army to be starved into surrender.”

  “I hope that’s a good thing,” said Hagerman.

  “If they are consolidating their positions, then it’s bad. If the Germans are using Vlasov’s men to hold us up, that’s also bad. In fact, I can’t think of anything good about this. We will be kicking the information this man’s given us up the chain. I hope they know what to do about it.”

  “So what do we do with him?” Hagerman said pointing at the Russian whose head had been swiveling as each man spoke.

  “He’s a prisoner and we’ll treat him like one. Once you decide he can be released we’ll put him in with the other prisoners and hope for the best. Maybe he’ll get lost in the crowd or fall through the cracks or something like that.”

  “Sure,” said Hagerman. “Did you at least find out his name?”

  Tanner grinned. “It�
�s Ivan, what else?”

  * * *

  The second OSS team led by Marie Leroux had left in the night, a week earlier. Neither Winnie nor Ernie knew how they did it, but they had made it across the border, set up camp, and immediately began reporting on German troop movements. The trio also informed Dulles about the distribution of supplies to the German front lines.

  Winnie and Ernie had found out that Marie and Sven were lovers, which made them wonder what Hans felt about being odd man out. “Maybe they take turns or something like that,” Ernie said. Winnie said that he was disgusting.

  The second team had been in Germanica for only a week when their messages ceased abruptly.

  “There could be a number of reasons for that,” said Dulles when he arrived in Arbon after hearing of the problem. “First, there could be a simple malfunction with their radio. In which case, there are ways of extracting them or getting them a new radio.”

  “Do you really think it’s that simple?” asked Ernie.

  Dulles shook his head glumly. “No. There are other signals they could have sent if they were having a technical problem and these have not been done. I’m afraid that they either have been captured or killed. For their sake, I pray for the latter. It is my understanding that this General Hahn, the man in charge of the SS and Gestapo, is a monster.”

  Winnie was close to crying. “Are you saying they will break them?”

  “Of course they will,” Dulles replied bluntly. “Everyone will break under torture, and the Germans are masters at it. It’s just a question of how long and how much they can tell their interrogators. I would suggest that, in very short while, the Germans will know of every one of us, where we’re quartered and anything else the missing group might have known. We will make arrangements to move immediately. I’m sorry, but this lovely little dormitory will have to cease to exist.”