Resolute Nazi

by Wagher, Ward

  “How would you say the morale is of the Wehrmacht and the leadership?” Schloss asked.

  “Morale is high, Herr Reich Chancellor,” Guderian replied. “General Model is a master of utilizing his resources to bleed the Russians without expending those resources. I do not mean to sound disrespectful, Herr Reich Chancellor, but the people on the front have started calling Model the Reich Chancellor’s Fireman. He is skillful at putting out fires.”

  Mein Gott, Schloss thought, some things have not changed in this universe. Where I came from Model was called the Fuhrer’s Fireman.

  He snorted. “As long as General Model continues to put out the fires, you can call him anything you like.”

  The men at the table chuckled. Schloss was glad the amusement seemed genuine. If they were going to survive, they needed to communicate freely around this table. The internecine warfare between the branches of the military had to be avoided.

  “We still have not answered the question, meine Herren. When will we stop the Russians?”

  “As long as we continue to bleed Stalin and interdict his supply line,” Guderian explained, “his advance will eventually grind to a halt.”

  “Schneller Heinz and I have talked about this,” Schloss said, referring to Guderian’s nickname, “But we need to start developing a strategy on how we are going to win this war. If we don’t, we will get bogged down. And that will be deadly.”

  Colonel Reinhard Gehlen, the head of the Abwehr, raised a finger. Schloss nodded at him.

  “I am uncertain whether Herr Stalin is entirely sane, but he is not stupid. He started this war to get his people under control. If his war fails, he will face two intractable problems. So, as I see it, meine Herren, at one level, we need to plan a series of actions based upon Stalin’s possible initiatives. At the strategic level, we need to determine whether we will be forced to march on Moscow and force a change of leadership in Russia.”

  “A good point, Colonel,” Schloss stated, looking around the room. “You may have identified the central point for our strategy. May I advance, for the sake of discussion, that once we begin pushing the Red Army back into Russia, that we focus on what we want to achieve.”

  “It is a chance to grab a lot of natural resources,” Goering commented.

  “It is,” Schloss replied. “I am not prepared to shun any gifts this war provides, but what are we trying to achieve?”

  “The Caucasus oil fields are certainly attractive,” the Minister of Commerce, Joachim von Ribbentrop, spoke for the first time in the meeting. “But we may use more oil driving through to them than we would recover.”

  “That is a good point, in and of itself,” Peter Schreiber said. Peter was the Foreign Minister and Schloss’s brother-in-law.

  “Then there is the problem of pacifying that territory,” Karl Rainer seemed to be thinking out loud. As the head of the SS, he considered the law enforcement challenges.

  “As bad as things are in Russia right now,” Gehlen interjected, “they might welcome us as liberators.”

  Schloss nodded. “Good point. But, back to my question: what should be our objective?”

  “May I suggest we put together a team in the OKW to look at this?” Goering asked.

  Schloss looked around the room. “Any thoughts on that suggestion?”

  “I do not object to that,” Rainer said. “But perhaps we should each put together a team in our respective ministries to look at the question. I think we will ultimately have to hammer out a plan in this room.”

  “Ja,” Goering immediately replied. “That is a better idea, Herr Reichsprotektor.”

  Schloss said. “The Fuhrer planned for a thousand-year Reich. He may have been slightly optimistic, but I think this is the first objective, ensuring the continuity of the Reich.”

  “But that goes without saying, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  Schloss looked at Goering. “I realize I am stating the obvious. But the first step in building a strategy is to clearly list what we currently have and what we want to achieve. When the sergeants in the Wehrmacht train the infantry, the first thing they do is teach the men to march. That won’t win the war, but the men learn to move together as one.”

  “That’s very good, Herr Reich Chancellor,” Gehlen commented. “You have given this some thought.”

  Schloss shook his head. “Not nearly enough. Karl’s suggestion is a good one. If each of you tasks a small team in your departments to think about this, we can have a collection of reports that should get us thinking.”

  The meeting continued for another hour before Schloss called it to a halt. As the participants around the table picked up their papers and prepared to leave, Schloss spoke again.

  “Herr Reichsmarshall, might I have a conversation?”

  “Of course, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  “We can retreat to my office. I think I will collapse if I don’t get a cup of coffee soon.”

  Goering laughed. “What would we do without our coffee?”

  “Indeed. I think if I told people we forced the English to the peace table so that we could import coffee again, they would believe us.”

  “Isn’t that why we did it?” Goering asked.

  Schloss laughed. “You see, you do believe it.”

  The ponderous man followed the Reich Chancellor into his office. Schloss waved him to a chair. A moment later, Willem Kirche slipped in with a tray of pastries and a fresh decanter of coffee.

  “Bless you, Herr Kirche,” Goering said.

  The big man accepted a cup from the secretary and shoveled a pastry into his mouth. He spoke as he worked the sweets around in his mouth.

  “You know, Herr Reich Chancellor, one of the few benefits of the cancer is the weight is melting off me. I can eat whatever I want. Frankly, I would prefer to fight my weight, but at this stage in one’s life, you accept whatever small blessings the almighty bestows.”

  Schloss winced inwardly at Goering’s atrocious manners but was determined not to let it show.

  “That was what I wanted to talk to you about, Hermann. Have the doctors given you any indication of the prognosis?”

  Goering took a deep breath. “Herr Schloss, the doctors tell me that in another six weeks or perhaps two months at the outside, I will be unable to continue working. I probably have three months left. I suspect, though, that you will be glad to be rid of me.”

  “Hermann, that is not so. While I will admit to being often frustrated with you, I do not know at this point how we will replace you.”

  Goering chuckled ruefully. “You will have no more choice than I, Herr Schloss. I do have a request, though.”

  “What would that be?” Schloss asked.

  “Please look after Emmy and my little Edda. I worry about them.”

  The old sow has a heart in there somewhere, Schloss thought. He genuinely cares for his wife and daughter.

  “Hermann, you can put your mind at ease. I promise you that we will look after them.”

  “Thank you, Herr Schloss. That means much.”

  “I need to ask you this, Hermann: is there anyone in the Wehrmacht who can take your place?”

  “Guderian could do it,” Goering immediately replied. “He would do a much better job than I am capable of doing.”

  “Perhaps so. But under the present circumstances, I badly need him where he is right now.”

  “True, true. I must give this some thought.”

  “That is all I can ask right now. Will you be accompanying me to the airfield this afternoon?”

  “Of course, Herr Reich Chancellor,” Goering barked. “I would not miss it.”

  “Good,” Schloss said as he stood up. “Thank you for your time, Hermann.”

  § § §

  May 11, 1943; 3PM

  Brand-Briesen Airfield

  Briesen, Germany

  The Boeing B-17 bombers looked majestic as they swung into their landing pattern at the Luftwaffe base. Shortly after Ribbentrop had negotiated the purchase o
f the aircraft, Goering had ordered the Luftwaffe to extend the runway to 1,500 meters, which provided ample space for the heavily loaded bombers to lumber into the air on their bombing missions. They seemed much more graceful to Schloss as they swooped in to land with their empty bomb bays and empty fuel tanks.

  “Do we have a count of the returning aircraft?” Schloss asked.

  Colonel Dietrich Kammer glanced over at Schloss. “We had two aborts at the start of the mission, and both returned safely. We are bombing from an altitude of 2,500 meters. The Russians have not had anything that could shoot that high. We control the air, so there is little risk of fighter interception. In theory, all the aircraft should return.”

  “I sense a qualification Herr Colonel.” Schloss smiled to take away the sting.

  “Indeed, Herr Reich Chancellor. These Boeing aircraft are more reliable than those planes we manufacture, but mechanical failures still happen. A serious enough mechanical problem could cause the loss of the aircraft. Also, there are accidents, such as collisions that might happen. We are very careful, though.”

  “I see,” Schloss replied. “How do you deal with mechanical problems on a mission?”

  “The aborts that I mentioned before are an example of this. We make sure to instruct the flight crews to abort and return to base if the aircraft is not 100% functional. They do not like that, but I believe it saves aircraft and crews.”

  “We have lost, what, seven of the bombers since the beginning of the war?” Goering asked.

  “Yes, Herr Reichsmarshall. A pilot ground-looped one of the aircraft, and we had to write it off. We lost a couple to enemy fire during the first couple of days of the war. Two were due to mechanical failure, where the pilots could not find a suitable landing site in time. And there were two where we have no idea what happened.”

  “So, we have 93 remaining functional aircraft, then?” Schloss asked.

  “No, the number is between 80 and 85. We are careful to down-check the aircraft for even minor faults. We cannot generate as many airframes that way, but we lose far fewer as well.”

  “I believe that is just as well,” Schloss said. “Herr Reichsmarshall, when do we expect Heinkel to get the aircraft into production?”

  “I spoke with the superintendent yesterday. He said that the factory was six months away from production.”

  Schloss winced. “I hope we do not run out of the bombers before then. We could really use more of them.”

  He watched as more of the planes landed. “Very well, I would like to greet the aircrews, Herr Colonel.”

  “Of course, Herr Reich Chancellor. They will gather in the assembly hall to wait for their debrief. That would be the best place, I think.”

  “Very well.”

  The colonel led Schloss and Goering to the back door of the hall. After stepping through the door, they mounted the steps to the platform. As the airmen spotted them, they spontaneously raised a shout and a cheer. Goering beamed at the reaction, while Schloss was embarrassed.

  Schloss stepped to the center and held up a hand to quiet the men. “I can only remain for a few minutes, but I wanted to tell you how much the Fatherland appreciates your efforts. And, it means a lot to me. Make no mistake, my friends, we are in a difficult war. Success will only come if we all work together and put our utmost into it.”

  The airmen clapped and stomped and cheered. Schloss waited for the tumult to subside.

  “The Reichsmarshall wanted to come this afternoon as well. Of course, I had to pull him away from the dinner table to get him here. There was some doubt as to whether our Tante Ju would be able to get off the ground with him aboard.”

  There was now laugher along with the cheering. They loved their Big Hermann. Goering grinned and laughed with them. He did not at all mind being the object of humor and enjoyed it as much as the men did. He stepped up next to Schloss.

  “Not to worry,” he said. “The JU-52 is a stout airplane. The Reich Chancellor worries too much sometimes.”

  Our Big Hermann is getting daring, Schloss thought. But I suppose he has little left to lose. And the men are enjoying it.

  So, Schloss grinned and laughed along with the audience. This is the sort of thing that helps morale. Besides, Gisela accuses me of taking myself too seriously at times.

  After some more give and take with Goering, the two men made their exit, to thunderous applause and returned to the tri-motor airliner that brought them from Berlin.

  “I don’t know why you didn’t bring your Condor, today, Herr Reich Chancellor,” Goering said.

  “What is it, 120 kilometers from Tempelhof? This aircraft is fine for the distance. Besides, Hermann, the other members of the council will be reluctant to complain about flying in these if they are aware we used one today.”

  “How will they know?”

  Schloss laughed. “I am sure word ricocheted around Tempelhof when they rolled this out for us. If it doesn’t get to the governing council, then you can complain to them about my making you ride in the Tante Ju.”

  “Sometimes, Herr Schloss, you are positively wicked,” Goering commented.

  “Precisely.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  May 13, 1943; 8 AM

  British Naval Base HMS Highflyer

  Trincomalee Fortress

  Ceylon

  “It is safe to say we have damn all left to protect India,” Admiral Charles Forbes, RN, said. “I would not describe it as a mortal blow, but it is serious.”

  Admiral Ernest King, USN, sat at the other end of the table in Forbes’s conference room and studied the sober faces around the table. This was the worst after-action meeting he could imagine.

  “If there is some good news in this, Admiral,” King commented, “it’s that the pounding we gave the Japs probably will keep them from heading in this direction any time soon.”

  “We are confident the IJN had six carriers in the area,” Forbes said. “We definitely sank four of them. But they got all six of ours. Plus, they got their teeth into our escorts. Losing eight cruisers hurts nearly as bad as the carriers. We’ve always been short of cruisers, and this doesn’t help.”

  “When do you suppose we might get a recon plane in to take a look at Singapore?”

  Forbes bit his lower lip. “If we can get something off the ground while the weather is still marginal. I will give orders not to proceed if the storm clears off. Without the clouds to hide in, the lifespan of a Catalina would be measured in minutes.”

  “I understand,” King replied. “I don’t think you could convince me to fly around Singapore right now.”

  One of the Americans at the table, Commander Herb Chapler, spoke. “Sir, this might be the opportunity we have watched for.”

  “What the devil are you talking about, Commander?” Forbes snapped.

  “We stopped the Japs,” Chapler said. “We should throw together whatever resources we’ve got and effect a landing at Perth, in Australia.”

  “Are you mad?” a British naval captain asked incredulously. “The bloody Nips just hammered our combined fleet into scrap. It is a long way to Australia in a couple of rowboats because that is just about all we have left.”

  King raised an eyebrow and looked down the table at Forbes. The British admiral knocked his pipe into the tray in front of him and carefully filled it from his tobacco pouch. The room grew quiet as Forbes pondered the proposal.

  “I think we have somewhat more in the fleet than two rowboats, Captain, though your point is taken.” Forbes nodded at Chapler. “How long have you been thinking about this, Commander?”

  “Sir, it has been on my mind since the battle.”

  Forbes held a flaming match over the bowl and puffed, then waved the match out before tossing it in the tray. “I have been giving that some thought as well. I am afraid, though, it would be too risky without air cover.”

  Admiral King raised a finger as he played with his coffee cup.

  “Yes, Admiral?” Forbes said.

 
; “I would like to propose that we plan a joint operation to land a force at Perth. Who knows, maybe someone will think of a way to get this done. Otherwise, it would be a good exercise for the flag staff.”

  Forbes considered the suggestion and nodded. “Might I co-opt your Commander Chapler to lead the team?”

  “He is very junior, Sir,” the British captain commented. The sound of the sneer was in his voice.

  “True, Captain Culpepper, however, he was the one who dared to suggest such an insane idea.” He pointed to a British commander and a second lieutenant. “You will report to Commander Chapler. Admiral King, could I request a couple more US Navy people to round out the team?”

  “Of course, Admiral.”

  Forbes nodded and then returned to the agenda. The dearth of intelligence concerning the Japanese fleet was maddening, but he thought it likely that they had lost more tonnage in the battle than the Americans and the British. While they had stopped the Japanese, it was an expensive victory.

  Following the meeting, Admiral King stood up and walked to the other end of the table, and Forbes stood up.

  “My feeling, Admiral,” Forbes said, “is that it could have been far worse.”

  King pulled an envelope out of his inner tunic pocket and handed it to Forbes. “This came in just before the meeting. You might find it significant.”

  Forbes scanned the message and grunted. “So, the Intrepid just cleared Suez. That makes Commander Chapler’s project look more promising.”

  “I agree,” King said. “But risking our single carrier on something as insane as this might have both the First Sea Lord and the Chief of Naval Operations collecting our heads.”

  “True. But I tend to agree with your commander. I think we may have an opportunity.”

  “I was rather surprised with the communique,” King stated. “The Intrepid just commissioned. We’ve been sending all the newbuild to San Diego. Somebody must like us.”

  “I dare say that she was already en route when we had our dustup with the Nips.”