Germanica

by Robert Conroy

“This means war,” he said solemnly. “Oh yes, I forgot. We’re already at war. This means that we’re going to go into battle very soon and that’s not a surprise either.”

  “I hope this is the final one.”

  He and Lena had managed a couple of minutes together that morning. Each was terrified that the next battle would be someone’s last one. While Tanner was in the greater danger, the incident in which General Evans had been killed and Lena shot at had showed them that danger was imminent and everywhere. Their embraces had been intense, as each knew that it could be the last for a long time, perhaps forever. Tanner was somewhat comforted by the fact that she was well behind the lines. But would that matter if long-range artillery came into play, or if someone made a tragic mistake, or, God forbid, the rumors about the gas masks were true.

  CHAPTER 19

  Ernie hugged Winnie. “I love you; now get the hell out of here.”

  She smiled and patted him on the cheek. “I love you too, especially when you talk so romantically. But you know I can’t go too far. I have a job to do, too. I don’t like it that Arbon is so close to the German border either, but I volunteered for this job just like you did.”

  They were in the rear of the suite of offices that were the United States consulate in Arbon. Normally, a small town like Arbon wouldn’t rate a consul, perhaps just a local person authorized to dispense with routine affairs on a part-time basis, but her proximity to the German border and the newly ordained capital at Bregenz made an exception to the rule a necessity.

  “Winnie, people are leaving this one-chalet town. They know the war’s going to come and they know that mistakes always happen, sometimes even accidentally.”

  She released him. “What are you implying?”

  “Only that we’re pawns in this giant thing called World War II, and that maybe the U.S. would like to smack Switzerland across the head for being so helpful to the Germans. Rumor has it that some priests in the Vatican are now helping Nazis escape. I’m not accusing Pius XII of anything wrong, but some in the Church’s hierarchy certainly are. While we can’t bomb St. Peter’s, maybe we can hit a small town in Switzerland and let it serve as a warning to those who would help the Nazis.”

  Winnie was shocked. “Are you saying that the President of the United States is that devious?”

  “Show me a politician who isn’t devious and I’ll show you someone who died several years ago. Don’t you ever wonder just what Dulles is really up to? Here we are planning to fight a final battle with the Nazis and the Russians are expanding their reign over much of Europe. What do you think Truman and Dulles think about that? What do you think they might do to slow down the Reds?”

  “Are you saying there might be another war, only this time with the commies?”

  “Winnie, I think you can almost count on it.”

  Winnie was about to reply when air raid sirens began to wail.

  * * *

  “Once more into the breach,” said Sibre. He and Schafer headed a flight of almost a hundred P51 and P47 fighters as they escorted a miles long stream of several hundred American bombers. Most were B17s, but there were B24s and B25s as well. They were headed for Bregenz and most of the men were delighted. It meant an end to the German’s sanctuary and hopefully an end to a war that seemed to have gone on forever—with America starring in it.

  Deep down they knew that was an untrue and unkind statement. Both Great Britain and the Soviet Union had been fighting for far longer and, in the case of the Soviets, had suffered appalling losses.

  Their target was the center of the capital of Germany. They would fly, drop their bombs and then leave by flying over Lake Constance. The stream of planes would turn north and head for their home fields. It was understood that this would involve flying over Swiss territory. It was also understood that they could return the fire of anyone who shot at them, regardless of where the firing was coming from. Nor were they to concern themselves about the likely killing of innocent civilians. If those deaths could help save Americans, then their deaths would not be in vain.

  Puffs of black smoke appeared around their planes. Flak. “Can you see the guns?” Sibre asked. A moment later Schafer said he could and dived for the ground. Sibre swore and followed, along with several others.

  As they got lower, more and more German guns sent shells up to meet them. “Where the hell are they getting the guns?” Schafer yelled. “They must have been saving them for a rainy day.”

  They dropped their bombs and strafed what they hoped was a gun emplacement. There was no secondary explosion, which made them doubt it. Regaining altitude, they saw that the Germans were targeting the bomber stream and that several had been hit. One B24 blew up, sending debris and bodies all over the sky. Others were either burning or had chunks bitten out of their wings or tails. A surprising number were either cripples or had turned around. They wondered how many casualties were inside the planes and whether or not the wounded would live. Their buddy Morelli had died of his injuries a few hours after they’d visited him. They convinced themselves that it was for the best but that was a hard sell. Morelli had been a human being, not a dog that needed to be put down.

  “Once more and this time with feeling,” said Sibre. The raid was becoming a disaster. During their briefing, the intelligence officer had minimized the German antiaircraft defenses. Now they’d like to get the dumb bastard up in a plane so he could see what was really happening.

  They strafed another possible site and pulled up. They were out of ammunition. Now all they could do was try to distract the Germans. As if to mock them, a B17 flew nose-first into the ground and exploded in an enormous ball of fire. Neither man said a word, but each wondered if anyone had gotten out before it hit.

  The bomber stream had begun to disintegrate. Cohesion was lost and planes were flying in numerous directions.

  “Where the hell are those idiots going?” Schafer yelled. A dozen bombers were following another one that was on fire. Their route was taking them over the border and towards a number of small towns in Switzerland.

  “This is going to be bad,” said Sibre, and Schafer concurred. The lead plane’s left wing suddenly broke off and the bomber began a death spiral to the ground. They didn’t want to, but they couldn’t help but watch. Hatches opened and several men jumped out. They counted four, but there were ten in the crew. Four chutes opened, but where would they land? Both agreed that it would be Switzerland, which meant that the Americans would be safe.

  “Oh no,” said Sibre. The other planes’ bomb bay doors were open and bombs began to fall out and downward. They were bombing Switzerland. Had the commanding officer made a mistake, gotten lost, or was he pissed at the dense German antiaircraft fire? They would never know. The new lead plane took a hit and fell apart. This time there were no chutes.

  * * *

  Winnie and Ernie huddled in a shelter along with several dozen other people. As the explosions drew nearer, an elderly Swiss gentleman with a well-trimmed white beard glared at Ernie. “Can’t you bloody people be trusted to tell Germany from Switzerland?”

  “It ain’t all that easy from maybe twenty thousand feet and with a few score antiaircraft guns blazing away at you. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

  The gentleman was about to respond when more bombs hit and caused the shelter to vibrate. Ernie was going to add to his comments when the old man simply disappeared in a rain of flesh and bone.

  Ernie managed to cover his and Winnie’s heads with his jacket with one hand and cup his balls with the other as the shelter fell apart. “Winnie!” he yelled as consciousness faded and then disappeared.

  * * *

  Werner Heisenberg had been given American fatigues and been flown to New York in a DC3. He was accompanied by two MPs and others on the flight assumed he was a prisoner. If they were puzzled by the fact that he wasn’t in irons, nobody said anything. From there it was time to refuel and change pilots. Then it was another hop to Washington. He was tired and frightened. Were they t
aking him to America to be shot, hanged, or put on display as a war criminal? He was a scientist, not a criminal. How could he convince them of that?

  The major in Bonn had quickly found his name on a list and he had been interviewed by an Alsos team, primarily to make sure he was who he claimed to be. From there he had been flown to an American air base in England where he figured he’d be interned for the duration. He’d been there only a couple of days when he was put on a plane and sent across the Atlantic.

  After landing in Washington, he’d been put in a staff car and he’d promptly fallen asleep. When he was awakened, he was astonished to find that he was at the White House and would be meeting with President Truman in a few minutes. That and a cup of excellent coffee had perked him up. Perhaps they weren’t going to try him as a criminal after all.

  He was taken to the Oval Office and given some more coffee. It was fascinating to see a national capital that hadn’t been bombed and devastated. Even during his brief stay in England, he had seen where bombs and rockets had struck.

  He was ushered into the president’s office. Truman was seated behind a large wooden desk. He was introduced to General Marshall and General Groves. He knew who Marshall was but only knew of Groves as the man who had built the Pentagon.

  “Tell us about Abraham Esau,” Truman said.

  Heisenberg blinked. He hadn’t expected that question. “Dr. Esau is an excellent physicist, one of Germany’s leading scientists.”

  “Is he as good as you?” asked Groves.

  “No. He is a good man, but definitely second tier.”

  Truman leaned forward. “Could he and a small team located in the Alps build an atomic bomb?”

  Heisenberg smiled broadly. So this is what this is all about. “Doctor Esau couldn’t build a bomb if he had all the resources in the world and all the time in the world.”

  * * *

  Heisenberg was brought up to speed. He was told about the German threat to use a bomb and that Truman was thinking about halting the attack on Bregenz because of the fear of what a bomb might do to massed American forces.

  There was more coffee and some sandwiches. “Gentlemen,” Heisenberg continued, “there was never a threat of a German atomic bomb. I had already seen to that.”

  Truman was astonished. “What do you mean?”

  “Because I could not abide the thought of a monster like Hitler getting his filthy paws on a weapon like the atomic bomb. There were several competing programs, but mine was the major one. I saw to it that we were constantly going off in the wrong direction. Along with not having enough Uranium, all I had to work with were second and third-rate talents. The Nazis considered physics to be Jewish science and chased the good ones away. I assume that they are working for you.”

  “That’s a safe assumption,” said Groves as he reached for another sandwich. “But does Goebbels know that?”

  Heisenberg shrugged. “He was the Minister of Propaganda. He might be lying or he might be being lied to. Who knows? Now, may I politely ask what will happen to this information and to me?”

  Truman smiled coldly and Heisenberg could see how people could underestimate the short man with the wire-rimmed glasses. “As to your motives, I don’t give a damn. For all I care you are lying through your teeth about intentionally derailing the bomb research and really wanted it to succeed because you were a good Nazi until the end and decided it was time to save your ass. In the meantime, you will remain in our custody. You will be kept comfortable and secure. And, if by chance, the German bomb does work, I will personally blow your goddamned brains out. If their bomb is either a dud or a fraud, you will be rewarded. In the meantime, the attack on Bregenz will go on as scheduled, and God help us all.”

  Heisenberg was led away. He would be sent to the Marine Barracks in Washington and held in confinement. He was confident that he would be vindicated. But then he felt a chill. What if, just if, Esau and his people had indeed managed to utilize existing research to develop something that could cause great harm to the United States Army? It didn’t have to be a full-fledged atomic bomb. Something close would do just as well.

  * * *

  Josef Goebbels was frightened but safe. His shelter was in the bowels of a hill overlooking Bregenz. Even so, the room shook and he looked at the walls and roof to see if they would stand up to the pressure of Allied bombs.

  No senior members of his government were with him. They were all in other shelters, fled to Switzerland, or dead. More explosions and the mountain seemed to rise up from the ground.

  He fingered the little box in his pants pocket. Was it time? If he wanted to die, he would have to take the cyanide at the earliest possible moment. He hadn’t thought of it, but he now thought it possible that he could be injured in a bombing attack and unable to reach the capsules. The rain of bombs was beginning to taper off. He would live through this day. Still, he had to be better prepared. He smelled smoke but nothing to indicate a major fire.

  The door to the shelter was cracked open. “Minister!” yelled an officer from outside.

  “Over here,” Goebbels said and managed to stand with great difficulty. He was shaking, but why? He’d endured far worse while in Berlin. It was because he now realized that any feelings of safety he’d had were an illusion, a pipe dream.

  The steel door to the cave was open and his officers were tentatively stepping outside. The sky was clear and there were no fresh contrails in the sky. Much of Bregenz was in ruins. Dark smoke was heavy and firefighters were at work. There would be little shortage of water since the city was close to the lake. Dead and wounded were being pulled from the rubble, proof that not everyone had taken the threat of bombing seriously. Goebbels wondered if this would stiffen the spines of those left to fight for Hitler’s vision. Sadly, he doubted it. Instead, there would be an exodus to the Swiss border.

  Field Marshal Schoerner stood watching the activity. He did nothing and Goebbels didn’t either. The people in charge of handling disasters such as this were doing an excellent job. They did not need anyone yelling encouragement at them.

  Schoerner smiled. “Minister, did you hear the good news?”

  “What good news could there be? The Americans bombed us. There is no longer any sanctuary.”

  “The Americans made a huge mistake. For some reason, they bombed Arbon as well.”

  Goebbels perked up, suddenly elated. If the Swiss were angry enough at the assault on their territory, would they be willing to ally themselves with the Reich? The addition of the Swiss Army to Germany’s defenses would cause the Americans to think about the blood price that must be paid. Perhaps this day wasn’t such a miserable one after all.

  And he still had an atomic bomb to fire at the Americans. Was it time to launch? No, he told himself. Not just yet.

  * * *

  Why am I tied up? he thought. He wanted to strain at the bonds that restricted his movement, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. His brain wouldn’t function. His thoughts were coming out mushy and incoherent.

  And he couldn’t see. Am I blind? He twisted as much as he could but nothing seemed to be working. He was able to blink and felt something over his eyes. What had happened? The last thing Ernie recalled was being in a shelter and something exploding. He thought he recalled a man scolding him before the man disappeared.

  Oh God. Had Winnie been with him? He couldn’t recall. Was she okay? He had to find out. He tried to move again and thought there was some feeling in his right leg but nothing in his left. He took a deep breath. Okay, I’m alive. He tried to say something but only a squawk came out and he wasn’t certain he’d made any sound anyhow.

  Something grazed his right hand. “Ernie? Can you hear me?” It was Winnie’s voice, and he exulted. She was alive and clearly in better shape than he was. “If you’re conscious, just nod.”

  It took willpower but he did. “Wonderful,” Winnie said. “Now I’m going to put a straw in your mouth so you can get some water in you.”

  A few m
oments later he was sucking on a straw and drinking cold, clear water. A few more moments and he tried to talk. It came out as a croak so he drank some more water. Better.

  “Where am I?” he whispered.

  “In a hospital in Arbon, and don’t try to talk too darn much. Since you can hear me, just listen. You were found in the rubble of that bomb shelter. You were very lucky. Several people were killed.”

  Ernie nodded, recalling the explosion and the death of the old man.

  “You were injured pretty badly. While I was thrown clear and am unhurt except for some more bruises, you’ve got a broken leg and several smashed ribs. Fortunately, it’ll all heal but it will take some time, although you will be up on crutches in a short while. I hope you weren’t counting on dancing anytime soon.”

  He smiled and felt her tears fall on his cheek. “A bunch of American bombers got lost and dropped their load on Arbon. The Swiss government is furious. You and I are technically under arrest, although you are obviously not going to escape. They’ve decided to let me stay with you for the time being. Dulles is a major diplomat so he has more immunity than we do and he’s trying to straighten out the mess with the Swiss government. He thinks he will succeed since the Swiss are such pragmatists.”

  Ernie reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Am I blind?”

  “Oh God, no. You’ve got some serious cuts on your forehead and around your eyes. You caught a lot of debris with your thick skull, which knocked you out. Your head is bandaged up and you’ve been restrained so you won’t pull your bandages off or thrash around and hurt your leg even more than it is already.”

  “Take off the bandages. I want to see that you’re really okay.”

  “Tomorrow. Right now a nice nurse is going to give you some more morphine so you can sleep in happy land and get some rest. They tell me that when the morphine wears off, you will be in great pain, so be prepared.”

  “Will you be with me?”

  “Yes, dear, of course.” Again he felt her tears and then her lips grazing his. Then it was time for a deep sleep.