by Wagher, Ward
“That would be my feeling, Comrade Colonel,” the major said. “We may have a problem there.”
Smirnoff snorted. “What you are trying to say is that we are in real trouble.”
Kuzmin took a deep breath. “Yes, I suppose that is what I was trying to say. If they manage to drive through to the coast or to meet up with that incursion up by Ostroda, this could lose the war for us.”
“I agree,” Smirnoff said, turning to Belyaev, who was listening. “We have the 342nd Division down for R& R at Brest. Send them an alert. As soon as we can figure out where to put them, they will need to get on the road. And find out who we have around here with the best readiness. I have lost track in the past 48 hours. We are going to have to pull some serious forces off the front to meet this.”
Belyaev nodded and handed Smirnoff a sheet of paper. “Here is the draft.”
Smirnoff looked at it and nodded. “This looks good, Comrade Colonel. Send it. And get those divisions moving.”
“At once, Sir.”
Smirnoff turned back to the map. Very little had gone as planned in this war. They should have been at the gates of Berlin by now. But perhaps the Germans had finally made a mistake. They hadn’t made many so far. He intended for them to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of a Red Army pincer.
§ § §
June 7, 1943; 9 AM
The White House
Washington, DC, USA
An ashen-faced Harry Truman stared in horror at the pictures on his desk. Admiral Leahy, the President’s chief of staff, leaned against the wall with his arms folded and looked at the floor. William Donovan, the Director of the OSS, leaned with his hand placed on the presidential desk. General Marshall, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, looked out the window. Truman began swearing and continued nonstop for nearly two minutes.
“What are these maniacs doing?” he continued. “Slaughtering innocent civilians like this. What are they trying to accomplish?”
“It looks to me, Mr. President, that they were either unwilling to import food or they were preparing the islands for colonization,” William Donovan suggested. “Or, both.”
Truman took his glasses off and ground his palms into his eyes. “Are the Japs doing this everywhere they have taken over?”
“The Brits have picked up indications that something like this is going on in Australia,” Marshall replied.
“This is obscene!” the President continued. “These people are barbaric. What could they possibly be thinking?”
“The Nazis were getting ready to do something like this to the Jews,” Donovan commented. “Schloss put a stop to it. But there seems to be some kind of insanity going around.”
Truman put his glasses back on and placed his hands on the desk. “The question before us, Gentlemen, is what do we do about it?”
“It is going to be hard to keep this quiet,” Donovan said.
“We are not going to keep this quiet,” Truman said. “Whoever was on the scene in Hawaii was pretty smart. He got the field correspondents involved early. This is something we need to broadcast from the rooftops. We need to determine the best way to announce this so that it has the maximum impact. We also need to publicly warn the Japanese that we are going to hold them accountable for their actions. I think we should suggest that they seriously think about a halt to the war.”
“Does this represent a policy of the Japanese government?” General Marshall asked.
“Does it matter?” Truman asked. Then he answered the question himself. “Yes, of course, it does.”
“Very well,” he pointed to Leahy. “Admiral, I want to call a press conference this afternoon. Tell everybody there will be a major announcement from the president. Bill, I want you to put a team together to figure out whether this represents a policy of the Japanese government or if their military is out of control.”
Donovan nodded. “Of course, Mr. President. We will get right on it.”
“General Marshall,” Truman continued, “I want you to tell our people over there to be on the lookout for more mass graves. When this thing is over and done with, we are going to give a bunch of the Japs a fair trial after which they will burn in hell.”
After the meeting, the president sat at his desk and studied the photographs. Finally, shaking his head in shock and disgust, he picked up the phone.
“Please find Leslie Groves and ask him to come to my office.”
Thirty minutes later, Truman’s secretary ushered the general into the Oval Office. Truman met him as he came in the door and shook his hand.
“That was quick, Colonel,” Truman said.
“Mr. President, I happened to be in Washington today, so I was able to get right over. It sounded urgent.”
“I want to show you something, Colonel.”
Truman walked over to the desk and picked up one of the pictures. He handed it to Groves.
“Sir! What is this?”
“Colonel, our people uncovered a mass grave near Honolulu.”
“The Japanese did this?” Groves sounded incredulous.
“They apparently decided the population of Hawaii was inconvenient.”
“This is horrible!”
“Say nothing about this for the moment, Colonel,” Truman instructed. “I will be holding a press conference this afternoon. But I wanted you to understand my thinking.”
“How can I help, Mr. President? I am at your service.”
“I changed my mind about the Manhattan Project. I want you to ramp up the tempo greatly. What do you need?”
“You need a weapon, then?”
“We need to stop the Japs in any way we can, and as quickly as we can.”
“Very well, Mr. President. I need money, and I need clout.”
Truman walked over to the door and opened it. “Please ask Admiral Leahy to come in.”
He closed the door and walked back over to Groves. “Given those additional prerequisites, can you deliver, Colonel?”
“Mr. President, we will do our best.”
There came a knock at the door, and Admiral Leahy walked in.
“Admiral,” Truman said, “please cause orders to be issued promoting Colonel Groves to Brigadier General. Also, I have instructed General Groves to accelerate the Manhattan Project. He told me he needs money and clout.”
“Well,” Leahy smiled, “we have taken care of the second. Do you have any kind of an estimate for the total cost of the project?”
“Sir, it is going to be north of a billion dollars. Beyond that, I cannot hazard a guess.”
Leahy looked at the president. “I think we will have to slide this into a supplemental appropriations bill. We can raid General Marshall’s confidential fund to give General Groves some walking around money.”
Truman looked at Groves. “Congratulations, by the way, General. If anybody gets in your way, please contact Admiral Leahy or me. I will talk to General Marshall and let him know what we are doing.”
“Thank you, Sir. I guess I’d better get busy.”
“Thank you for coming in, General.”
“I was going to say my pleasure, Mr. President. But considering what you showed me, I am not sure that is appropriate.”
“I understand,” Truman said. “Admiral Leahy will contact you about having someone come to my office for a regular briefing on the project. I think it would be best if you were not seen around here very often. This is going to be one of the two or three biggest secrets of the war, and I want to keep it that way.”
“Yes, Sir, Mr. President.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
June 8, 1943; 2 PM
The Queen’s Study
Buckingham Palace
London, England, UK
Prime Minister Clement Attlee sat stiffly in the chair across from the Queen’s desk. On a small table next to him lay the remains of the tea and scones she served him when he first arrived. The pendulum clock on the wall ticked softly, and the hiss of the coal fire in the g
rate sounded loud in the quiet of the room. The distant traffic outside the palace walls did not intrude. And it seemed to Attlee that there was no rescue from these weekly torture sessions with Queen Margaret.
Perhaps that was unfair to the queen. She had a history of being temperamental, and everyone knew it, but she was dealing with a surfeit of problems that were not of her making. Between the two of them, they were still cleaning up the mess left by a government that was criminal in its incompetence.
“So, the head of RUSI still claims that he sent Desmond Morton to the continent on his own initiative,” the queen stated.
“He has not budged from that position, Your Majesty,” Attlee replied. “And to be honest, to send someone over there is consistent with his responsibilities.”
“I don’t think for a minute he did that on his own,” she said sharply.
Attlee kept himself from wilting under her glare. He had come to understand that the queen was something of a bully. She was merciless when she detected weakness. Attlee had learned to push back when she got this way. She respected strength, and he had bluffed her successfully so far.
“I do not think he did, either. But absent corroborating evidence, we have a dead-end there.”
“And the Germans are making this a capital case,” she said. “Not that I blame them, of course. They had a half dozen soldiers and police killed in the riots, and Morton was funding them.”
“At least Schloss has allowed Morton to see his barrister,” Attlee replied. “Not that I think it will help.”
“And the guiding hand behind this current adventure once again goes Scot free,” she said bitterly. “I knew of Morton when he worked at Downing Street. He was a weak man. He didn’t have the character to realize with what he involved himself. And now he will pay that price.”
“Perhaps Schloss will pardon him,” Attlee suggested.
“Not bloody likely,” she fired back. “I don’t think the German people would appreciate that. And we are certainly not going to ask.”
“Schloss knows we weren’t behind it,” Attlee said.
“And that is supposed to cheer me up? We joke about the Americans being cowboys and fifth-rate amateurs in international diplomacy. But the Germans must think we all escaped from Bedlam. God, what a mess!”
“At least Menzies appears to be getting his arms around MI6.”
“And he has twenty years of work ahead of him to repair that damage. We are going to have to rely upon Anthony to glean intelligence from the diplomats.”
Margaret snorted. “If that was calculated to make me feel better about things, it didn’t work, Clement. Whitehall has an annoying habit of telling me what they think I need to know, and I have no confidence in their judgment.”
Across the room, Colin Marty took careful notes but did not comment. He usually got very quiet whenever the queen got the bit in her teeth.
“Speaking of diplomats,” Attlee said, “the Americans have been heard from. Their army have discovered mass graves on Oahu in the Hawaiian Islands. We believe this confirms some of the things we have heard about in Australia. The president held a press conference and very publicly warned the Japanese that they had better start thinking of a way to end the war.”
“Good for him,” she said. “Plain talk helps prevent misunderstandings. I think I like their President Truman. And it points out that we have problems of our own in the Pacific.”
“And Admiral Forbes and Admiral King look to be on their way to invading Australia. The First Sea Lord is concerned.”
“Why? Because it wasn’t his idea?”
“Please, Madam. If there has been a single constant in this whole sorry war, it’s that the Royal Navy generally knows what it is doing. Forbes is going in there with a single aircraft carrier, and what’s left of his cruisers after Bengal Bay.”
“And that is risky.”
“Correct. We believe we took a big bite out of the IJN’s capability in the Bay of Bengal. But we got hurt, too.”
“If the Japanese are putting my people to the sword in Australia, I am happy to run any risk that Admiral Forbes thinks gives him a chance for success. That’s a new carrier that the Americans contributed to our little fleet down there, is it not?”
“There is that.”
“Right, and if the Americans are willing to risk a capital ship, I think we are obligated to step up, ourselves. The Yanks have always been plucky about managing their navy. And that goes back to 1812 if you remember.”
“Not something we like to talk about much, Your Majesty.”
Margaret grinned at him. “If they weren’t afraid to take on the premier military forces of the planet and fight them to a halt, and did so twice, I somehow think that they aren’t terribly worried about the Japanese Navy.”
“I don’t believe they would claim they aren’t concerned about it,” he said dryly, “but I take your point.”
“I think we need to make encouraging noises to Admiral Forbes. I hope we will have another task force sailing soon.”
“Within the next couple of weeks,” Attlee said. “We have two new carriers coming off the ways any day, but those won’t be commissioned until probably sometime in January.”
“Where are the Americans at with their new build?” she asked.
“Their first six Essex class are now in service. Five are in the Pacific, and one is with Admiral Forbes. They are working on six more, but those are at least a year away. They are converting a dozen freighters to light carriers. Again, those won’t be ready for some time. The American Secretary of State told us unofficially that they are negotiating with Schloss to purchase the two carriers the Germans haven’t done anything with.”
“Good,” Margaret said forcefully. “Schloss doesn’t need them right now. All they are doing is gathering rust and worrying our admirals. I suspect Herr Schloss has his hands full.”
“Secretary Hull also mentioned that the Americans would likely trade the Germans for another hundred of the fortresses.”
“We ought to look in our warehouses and see if there is anything we might reasonably sell to Herr Schloss. I am sure the Exchequer would appreciate a little hard currency.”
Attlee leaned back in his chair. “I believe we would need to gauge public sentiment before doing something like that.”
“I do not think the general public would have any problem with it, Prime Minister,” she said darkly. “It’s the people who think that they run this country who would have heartburn. And they are precisely the people who have helped us all get into this situation. And I wonder whether we have far too many people in the government who have a soft spot for Comrade Stalin.”
Attlee stared at her. It was fashionable around tea, dinner, and drinks for the upper crust to murmur compliments about the noble Russian workers and their leaders who are bringing their country into the modern age.
He shrugged. “I do not think I can argue with you about that.”
“You know you can’t,” she said. “And I worry about how many of those people are in Stalin’s pocket. They do not understand what a snake he is. As far as I’m concerned, he is worse than Hitler ever was. And the Soviet Union does not have a Schloss who will clean up the mess.”
The prime minister pondered her words for a moment and decided to change the subject. It made him uncomfortable.
“Anthony has initialed a draft of the trade agreement with Peter Schreiber.”
“Do you think you can get the treaty through Parliament?” the queen asked.
“It is iffy at this moment, Your Majesty,” he said, the stiffness back in his voice.
“Is Schloss going to sign it?”
“If Schreiber signed it, then Schloss knows and approves,” Attlee replied.
“Very well. Then I want you to arrange an appropriate ceremony where I will sign the treaty.”
He started to open his mouth, and she held up a finger. “Ah, ah, ah. You know why I need to do this, Clement.”
“Yes, Yo
ur Majesty. I agree that it needs to be done.”
“Once we have an election and you have formed a new government, Prime Minister, we will package all of my actions and decrees from this interregnum into an omnibus bill, and you will push it through the Commons. I will take care of getting it through Lords.”
“I don’t believe interregnum is the correct word, Your Majesty.”
“Certainly, you believe in parliamentary supremacy, Clement.”
“I do.”
“So, I am the caretaker government that keeps things running between the bona fide rulers.”
“I somehow doubt our MPs would understand it that way.”
She cackled harshly. “Does it really matter?”
“No, Your Majesty. Not in the least.”
“I somehow knew you would see things that way,” she said. “I hope that once we get a government put back together that no one will be interested in peeling back the covers on what we had to do here.”
“Other than the historians, of course,” Attlee smiled.
“Of course.”
§ § §
June 8, 1943; 9 PM
American Embassy
Blucher Palace
Berlin Germany
Berlin had quickly regained its cosmopolitan atmosphere following the end of the war with England. The Russian war was six-hundred kilometers away, and so most Germans professed not to worry about it. There was a bit of the stiff upper lip among the German guests to the reception at the American Embassy. The diplomatic community in Berlin was out in force, and so induced a more cheerful mood upon the gathering.
Karl Rainer circulated about the room with Misty Simpson on his arm and greeted the various attendees. Schloss stayed in one corner next to Gisela and watched the reactions to Rainer’s apparent gaucherie. While it was an open secret that the First Secretary of the American Embassy was seeing the Reichsprotektor, the diplomats reveled in keeping things discrete. Since the relationship between the two was now a public matter, Schloss knew it was a matter of days, if not hours, before the local newspapers picked up on it. Then things would get interesting.