Lena and Tanner met the Schneiders in what had been a doctor’s waiting room. There were chairs and a table. Ward said he had to be present and Tanner said he wanted to. Lena squeezed his hand and said she wanted him there as well.
Ward cleared his throat. “The last thing we want to do is send innocent people to prison. Miss Bobekova, the Schneiders are claiming that they took you into their house and kept you safe during the war. They say they fed you, clothed you, gave you shelter, and treated you with courtesy and respect. What do you say to that?”
Lena stared at the Schneiders. They looked smaller now, and petty. It was hard for her to believe that they’d once held the power of her life in their hands. “In large part, it is true. I did have a roof over my head and what food they had was shared with me. They got the larger portions, however. Mine barely kept me alive.” She pulled a photo out of her purse and handed it to Ward. “As you can see, I was little more than skin and bones.”
Gustav protested. “But we gave you what we could. No one had food during those last days.”
“But you always did,” Lena said. “I saw the stores of food hidden in your basement. You took food shipments meant for the German people and for me. You stayed fat while others starved.”
“But you lived,” Gustav continued. “So many Jews like you didn’t. We could have sent you east to the camps in Poland. You would have died almost immediately in a place like Auschwitz. And for that we are fighting for our lives, and our children were brutally assaulted.”
“I will give you credit for taking me in, but I think it was only because there was doubt about my being a Jew. That and you needed someone to work in your house and I happened to be handy and qualified. That doesn’t excuse your keeping me a slave for those years. Nor does it excuse you for raping me.”
Even though he knew about it, Tanner froze when she said it so calmly. Lena continued. “You forced yourself on me. And as thanks for being your slave you were going to have me sent to a factory where I would have been worked to death in a short length of time. You two forgot that I had ears and was not part of your furniture. I overheard much of your plans. If I hadn’t escaped I’d be dead. Your two children had the misfortune of finding me trying to escape so I had to hurt them in order to get away. Part of me says I am glad they survived, but it would not have bothered me if they had died.”
Gustav had begun sweating. “I am truly sorry that I assaulted you. I was drunk.”
Lena laughed harshly. “Yes, you were drunk. So drunk, in fact, that you were practically impotent, but that was the first time. There were many other times, or had you forgotten?”
Gudrun gasped and stared at her husband. “You swine, you swore there was only the once.”
“Are you that stupid, Gudrun, that you believed Gustav’s lies?” Lena said and enjoyed both of them wincing at her use of their first names. It was a clear sign that she was on top and they were below the bottom rung.
“Gudrun, there were many times when your pig of a husband would come to me and take me because he said that having sex with you was like humping a large piece of cold meat.”
“You bastard,” Gudrun screamed and struck Gustav, splitting his lip.
“It’s not true,” Gustav protested as blood flowed down his chin, and she hit him again, bloodying his nose.
Lena smiled coldly. “And let’s not forget the innocent people you sent to the Gestapo if they couldn’t pay the bribe you insisted on. And sometimes, Gudrun, that included sending over their wives and daughters if they didn’t have enough money or anything else of significant value.”
Gustav began to blubber while Gudrun screamed at him. Ward nodded solemnly. “I think this marriage is in serious trouble. Irreconcilable differences, if you ask me. I think we’ve all heard enough. This hearing is over.”
Lena stood and took Tanner by the arm. Together they walked out and Ward followed. “Miss Bobekova, Lena, I don’t think they’ll be calling on you to be a character witness anytime soon, and I’m glad. I don’t think you should have to relive your experiences and have them put on an official record.”
“What will happen to them?” Tanner asked.
Ward shrugged. “It’s kind of up to them. We’ll offer him five years in prison if he confesses and implicates others and ten if he goes to trial and is found guilty. And he will be found guilty. As to Gudrun, she’ll probably get a few months’ hard labor. Quite frankly, these two are small fry. We want people like Goebbels. I think Herr Schneider will decide that five years is a bargain, especially if it keeps his wife away.”
As they walked to the car, Lena took Tanner’s arm and squeezed. “Even though much of what I said was a lie, I’m glad I did it. I saw real fear on the faces of the Schneiders and I’m glad.”
Lena had told him that she’d been assaulted only the once by Gustav Schneider. She’d said she was going to exaggerate to frighten him. She hadn’t expected Gudrun’s violent outburst but it didn’t upset her. It was their turn to know fear. Ward had been in on the charade as well. Nobody wanted Gustav Schneider executed. It would have been a waste of a noose or a bullet. She just wanted justice and that included frightening him as he had frightened her. If he went to prison for a number of years, that was enough for her. They were brutal filth, but they had kept her alive, at least until the last moment.
* * *
“I think I could walk all the way across the lake without getting my feet wet,” said Tanner.
“That would be good,” said Cullen. “Doc Hagerman says you’re still supposed to keep them dry.”
“Go to hell,” Tanner said good-naturedly. It was the kind of stupid, nervous banter that men who were about to go forth and try to kill other people would sometimes engage in. It also was an attempt to drown out the thought that they could be killed at almost any time. They were not invincible and they now knew it. Their experiences in the war had proven it.
Tanner used his binoculars to scan the vast array of landing craft and other, more lethal warships. He fervently hoped that the sight of the armada would scare the Nazis into surrendering. Sadly, he didn’t think it would happen. Maybe some would give up, but far too many would fight until the end or until they were given orders not to. Maybe they weren’t crazy fanatics like the Japs, but the Nazis were bad enough.
“At least we won’t be in the first wave,” Tanner said. Their orders had them placed in the fifth wave, which was still no picnic. Worse, they would have General Broome in the boat with them. The general was not a glory hound but did feel it was his responsibility to be as close to the action as possible. Tanner and the others admired him for it, but it also meant that they would have to be closer to the action as well.
They had been awakened in the middle of the night and told to be prepared to board the boats. This would be the day. They did not call it D-Day. That was reserved for the landings at Normandy and the term was now considered almost sacred. This had been designated R-Day for Redoubt. Some were happy it hadn’t been called G-Day for Gas, which was on all their minds. Of course, G-Day could have stood for Germanica, too.
Only a few moments earlier, the officers had been gathered and told that there would be no poison gas used. Instead, it would be a nonlethal combination of tear gas and white smoke that would hopefully terrify and confuse the Germans. While there was relief that poison gas was not on the agenda, there were mixed emotions. No gas meant that Germans who weren’t terrified and confused would be alive, ready, and able to defend against the landing.
The men were still ordered to wear the awkward and sweaty gas masks. First, even a light dose of tear gas could incapacitate a man, and, second, it was hoped that the sight of U.S. soldiers storming ashore wearing the masks would unnerve the Germans who had precious few of them.
“Well, it sure as hell unnerved me,” said Cullen. Tanner and the others heartily agreed even though they didn’t quite believe the denials from on high. The government and the army did funny things and often at the expense o
f the troops in their command.
Shortly before dawn, the long caravan of landing craft headed out onto the clear blue waters of Lake Constance. The waves were negligible, which didn’t stop one of the sailors from puking, which then got a bunch of soldiers joining him. The sky was bright, clear, and blue, marred only by the odd white contrails made by high-flying planes. At least they’re ours, thought Tanner. He hadn’t seen a German plane in months, well before they arrived to attack the Redoubt.
The landing craft circled and jockeyed for position. There were to be six waves, each consisting of thirty boats. It was hoped that a full regiment, along with armor and artillery, could be delivered in a very short time against what was hoped to be a shocked and demoralized enemy that was expecting to be slaughtered by poison gas. When unloaded, the craft would circle back and pick up more soldiers, repeating the process until the 105th Infantry Division had landed and joined up with the Tenth Mountain Division.
“What the hell!” yelled Tanner. “I thought we were supposed to be in the fifth wave where it’s safer.”
General Broome was in the bow of the boat. If he heard, he didn’t show it. Broome and his staff, Tanner and Cullen included, had just found themselves in the second wave, where it was far more dangerous.
A lieutenant from Broome’s staff grimaced. “He asked for the change just a little while ago. He said he wanted to be closer to the action so he could support the troops by being seen.”
“Shit,” said Cullen, “I’d like to inspire them by being invisible.”
Artillery fire erupted from the shore. Shells splashed among the small craft, sending up geysers of water and shell fragments. One came close to their boat, dousing them with water and spent metal. No one was hurt.
Another shell hit a landing craft directly, and it erupted in flames. Men jumped overboard and into the cold lake. Only a few managed to get out of their gear. Most of them sank, a couple waving their arms futilely as they disappeared under the water.
“We don’t stop,” yelled the young ensign in charge. Tanner understood. War consisted of terrible equations and values. They were still about a mile away from shore. More men loosened their gear to the point where it was barely hanging on them. If they were thrown into the water, the hoped they could get out of the gear and not be dragged down to drown.
The line of destroyers began shelling suspected German positions. Insanely, some of the German gunners began shooting at the destroyers and not at the landing craft. But not all. A shell hit the bow of their craft, shaking them violently and destroying one of the machine-gun mounts. Tanner crawled over to see if he could help. The two men working the gun had been pulverized. Someone was screaming. The skipper of the LC had been hit by shrapnel and disemboweled. The only thing Tanner recalled was his name, Kubiak. He’d seemed like a decent guy and now he was going to die. Medics were swarming over him, but they would only ease his passing by heavily dosing him with morphine.
The landing craft was taking on water and in danger of sinking. No, Tanner thought, it was definitely sinking. The water was up to his ankles and rising quickly. They were only a few yards from shore when the LC hit ground and stopped. Someone in the crew ordered the ramp dropped and men poured out into the still frigid waters. This is just like crossing the Rhine, he thought, and realized irrelevantly that the lake was part of the Rhine. His feet were getting wet along with the rest of him. He jumped into the lake and waded the last few yards to the shore.
He looked around and saw the general helping people make it to land. “I hope he’s happy,” Tanner said to a bedraggled Cullen.
Cullen looked skyward and over the coast where a white cloud was advancing. Above the cloud, waves of planes were flying over and out into the center of the lake after dropping their loads. “Oh, God. Now we’re gonna find out whether the army was lying to us or not.”
* * *
Sibre and Schafer hadn’t seen so many airplanes in their young lives. Hundreds of fighters were escorting many hundreds more bombers. They would carpet bomb Bregenz and the areas around the German capital.
The two pilots were towards the rear of the extended column. The lead planes had the task of taking on German planes and positions. There would be no enemy planes, so that left them free to attack antiaircraft batteries. By the time they arrived overhead, however, many of these had been silenced by other planes or naval gunfire. This gave them a clear view of what was going to transpire. They had heard the denials of the use of gas and kind of believed them. Better, they were many thousands of feet above ground, and gas couldn’t climb to their height. They hoped. They didn’t have gas masks. None had been issued to pilots despite their protests that they might be forced to land and might need them.
Bomb bay doors opened in the bellies of hundreds of bombers. At a signal they began dropping thousands of small bombs. From where they were, it looked like a snowfall. A minute later, the bombs began impacting. Clouds of white smoke erupted and, taken by the wind, began swirling towards the lake, blanketing the German lines.
“Dear God,” muttered Sibre. “Can you begin to imagine what’s going on down there?” Schafer could not. What looked like blankets of death were heading though Bregenz and towards the lake. It was a vision of the Apocalypse. Inside the cloud, he visualized four deadly horsemen riding their skeletal steeds and mowing down victims with their scythes. He shuddered. Sometimes having a vivid imagination was a curse.
He shook off his bleak thoughts. He and Schafer were the victors and to the victors belong the spoils. Tonight a bunch of them would go to Stuttgart and head directly to that whorehouse where the hookers pretended to be nuns and the place a convent. Both he and Schafer had gone to Catholic school, so it was deliciously decadent to screw pretend nuns in a make-believe convent. They had to admit that the madam, Sister Columba, ran a hell of a fine place.
* * *
Hummel screamed as the cloud enveloped him. He and the others had tried running, but the gas was inexorable. Like an all-consuming monster, the wind, favorable to the Americans, drove it towards them and the lake, finally overtaking them.
As it approached and in their panic, they had thrown away their weapons, clawed out of their bunkers, and headed away as fast as they could run. Mindlessly, they’d headed in the direction of a once peaceful Lake Constance that was now covered by American landing craft that were moving ever closer. They could see that the Yanks were wearing gas masks and would be safe. They, poor German soldiers, would not be. Once again, their Nazi government had sold them out. Hummel cursed as his eyes watered and he choked. He was going to die and he wanted vengeance and it didn’t matter who would be on the receiving end.
An SS officer, his mouth covered with a rag, confronted them. “Get back to your positions, you fools. This is just tear gas. You aren’t going to die!”
Hummel had never endured tear gas before, so he had no idea whether the officer was telling the truth.
The officer, his eyes wide and running and streaming tears, waved his Schmiesser machine pistol and pointed it at Schubert. Without thinking, Hummel fired his own pistol, shooting the SS fanatic in the head and dropping him instantly. He looked around to see if he was going to be arrested and realized that nobody cared. It was the same as when Schubert had killed that other SS man. The body had never been discovered and no fuss had been made about one more soldier gone AWOL. It didn’t matter if the missing man had been SS or not.
Hummel was in the middle of a swirling mass of humanity all headed towards the lake. He also realized that he wasn’t dying. His eyes burned and he had begun coughing but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He had never smelled tear gas, but realized the SS man had been right. Coughing and retching, he grabbed his comrades. “Get to the lake. We can wash this shit out of our eyes.”
“Then what?” asked Pfister, all pretenses at differences in rank forgotten.
Hummel howled with glee. “Then we throw down our guns and surrender to those monsters who are arriving from
the sea.”
The U.S. boats were close enough that they had begun disgorging their human cargo, and they indeed looked like monsters. They were also protected by masks that the German military couldn’t provide.
Up and down the shore, Hummel could see hundreds of German soldiers throwing away their weapons and throwing themselves into the lake. They did the same, and the irritation from the gas was soon controllable. The three of them raised their hands and hung close together as Americans disarmed those who still retained their weapons. There was confusion but no resistance.
A moment later, an American medic, still masked, looked at Schubert. “What’s wrong with him?” he asked in passable German.
Hummel answered. He was now their leader. “Shell shock. He got it a couple of months ago.”
“You want me to get him to a hospital or you gonna watch out for him yourselves?”
“We’ll take care of him,” Hummel said softly. “He is our comrade.”
* * *
Goebbels had finally found somebody with a radio. After a couple of tries, he made contact with Doctor Esau and ordered him to launch the rocket immediately.
Goebbels heard nothing but silence for a few moments, but finally, “It will be as you wish. We will launch in a couple of minutes.”
“Hurry, you fool. We might not have a couple of minutes.”
“Yes, Minister.”
Goebbels raged at the now silent phone. The next few minutes would determine whether or not he lived as the head of state or died in a town that was being overwhelmed by the enemy. It occurred to him that those in the Fuhrer Bunker in Berlin must have had the same feelings as the savages from the Red Army closed in and were only a few hundred yards away.
Germanica Page 38