Resolute Nazi

by Wagher, Ward

  And what will I do to protect the great love of my life and our child when the Russians are knocking at the door of Berlin? Mein Gott, why must things be so complicated?

  “What is wrong, Darling?”

  And Gisela is once again too adept at reading me. He searched his mind for a way to answer her.

  “I just wonder how I will be able to give you and our child the attention you deserve.”

  She studied him, and he once again thought it was erotic.

  “Perhaps I should take one night to spend in the enjoyment of my wife and allow the world and Germany to spin for a time without my attention.”

  She laughed again. “The world will not fall off its axis if you give all your attention to us for one night, Hennie.”

  He took her hands and stood up and she with him. He put his arm around her waist as they walked from the sitting room. From the door to the kitchen, Frau Marsden watched with a satisfied smile. And she returned to her tasks for the evening.

  § § §

  September 6, 1943; 11 PM

  Near Warka, Poland

  Colonel Lebed Lebedev stared down at the map spread on the small table before him. His GAZ-AA command truck was parked a half kilometer behind the front and yet was buffeted by the shock waves generated by the tank canon. Major Alexey Eristov pointed to a spot across the Pilica River.

  “This is where the Huns have gathered their forces, Comrade Colonel. They are in regimental strength. They have been harassing anything that comes into sight along our side of the river.”

  “And you want to engage them, Major?”

  “They certainly cannot be allowed to remain there.”

  Lebedev studied the map and rubbed his chin. He then shook a Belomorkanal cigarette out of the pack lying on the table and lit it. The bitter bite of the tobacco seemed to clear his mind, and he considered what the Major wanted to do.

  “I think, Comrade Major, that leaving them on the other side of the river is precisely what we want to do. Comrade Smirnoff wants us to drive forward at all costs. I am not to risk the command unnecessarily, but if we don’t move forward, we will be sitting here all winter. And this is a thoroughly unpleasant town.”

  “Of course, Comrade Colonel.”

  “Pass the word to press the offensive, Major.”

  Eristov jumped to attention. “Of course, Comrade Colonel.”

  When the major opened the door to leave, Lebedev shuddered at the breath of cold wind that swept into the small compartment of the command truck. He huddled closer to the oil stove and wished it put out more heat. And the cold would get far worse than this. He had never enjoyed cold weather, even if Russia was renowned for its winters.

  The weather on this early September night was uncharacteristically cold. The heavy overcast cast a pall over the damp ground fog. It was not a great night to be outside, unless, of course, you wanted to avoid the Germans’ persistent air cover.

  The Russians were reputed to be superb winter warriors, although their invasion of Finland in 1939 belied that. Lebedev didn’t think the Red Army was any better in the winter than anyone else. They simply knew how to keep their guns and equipment from freezing up when the bottom fell out of the thermometers. He had developed a healthy respect for the Wehrmacht over the summer and wondered how they would deal with the coming winter. He guessed he would find out.

  Lieutenant Moroshkin manned the radio set at the other end of the small compartment. He pulled the battered metal teapot from its resting place on top of the oil heater. He poured a cup and set it in front of the colonel.

  “Here you go, Comrade Colonel. I saw you shiver when the major opened the door.”

  “Gavno! Was I that obvious?”

  The lieutenant smiled slyly. “No, but I have seen how you enjoy getting out into the bracing weather.”

  The colonel shook his finger at Moroshkin. “It may be time to rotate you to other duties, Lieutenant. Perhaps a patrol along the river.”

  “But then who would monitor the radio for you, Comrade Colonel? Someone of my vast skills is not easy to replace.”

  “I think we would be able to find another monkey to train.” He picked up the scalding cup of tea and sipped. “Ahhh. This is very good. Thank you, Comrade Lieutenant.”

  A half-kilometer ahead of them, the German soldiers were in a desperate position. They had successfully grappled with the Russian bear all through the summer and forced the Red Army to pay in coin that was ten to fifteen times the German deaths. Now they were cold and tired and hungry. The Russians never seemed to let up. They would push forward, push, and push some more.

  The German military mindset was coldly rational. The soldiers were not prone to panic, nor did they panic now. But the oncoming deluge had begun cresting the dikes thrown up by the Germans to stem the onslaught. The first trickles of the flood started pushing the Germans to the side. As the front was sundered, the salient opened rapidly and the Red Army flowed through. The radio messages to Rommel were not panicked, but they were urgent. Very urgent.

  Lieutenant Moroshkin sat up suddenly in his chair in reaction to the message coming through his headphones.

  “Comrade Colonel, we have a breakthrough!”

  “Notify headquarters, at once.”

  Moroshkin switched frequencies and began tapping his key. He knew his job, and Lebedev knew his. Having forgotten the cold, he jumped to his feet and quickly exited the command truck. He marched over to the tent where the supply staff worked. A corporal staffed the desk when he walked in, and the youngster jumped to his feet.

  “Get your officers up, Comrade Corporal. We have a breakthrough, and we will move materiel through the gap.”

  He left the tent and walked over to the small compound used by the military police unit. Composed of NKVD, this group veterans were a hard-bitten bunch. An NKVD major met Lebedev when he stepped into the tent.

  “How may I help you, Comrade Colonel?”

  There had never been any love lost between them, and Lebedev did not like the Major now. But there was a job to do.

  “Major, we have our breakthrough. Please roust your people and get them ready to direct traffic. I think we will soon have the Devil’s own torrent coming through here, and we do not have time to let things get tangled up.”

  Without answering Lebedev, the NKVD major turned and started issuing orders. The NKVD mudak purposely failed to respond to his command, but as long as things were moving, Lebedev didn’t care. If they could exploit the breakthrough, General Smirnoff might end this war by the turning of the new year.

  In the Wehrmacht headquarters near Warsaw, General Rommel read the message and blanched. He immediately walked over to the situation map and studied the disposition of forces. He was faced with an array of bad choices, and he needed to act quickly. He turned to his adjutant.

  “Colonel, get everybody up. I need intelligence on the breakout as soon as possible. We are probably going to have to pull back, get the services groups out of bed from here to Berlin. If we don’t have to retreat, it will still be a good exercise for them. I need to draft a message for the OKW.”

  Rommel was effective for several reasons. One was that he was a devilishly good tactician. He also understood logistics. And he had developed a superb, well-disciplined command team. He could make things happen quickly, and that would soon become necessary.

  The night noises rarely carried into the Reich Chancellor’s apartments. The steady breathing of Gisela Schloss was joined by the Reich Chancellor’s light snore. The peacefulness was interrupted by the light tinkling of the telephone. Gisela moaned softly as Schloss quickly sat up to reach for the receiver.

  “Guderian, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  “Talk to me, Heinz.”

  “The Russians have staged a major breakout near Warka.”

  “Where the devil is Warka? And what time is it?”

  “Sorry, Herr Reich Chancellor. It is four o’clock. Warka is southern Poland on the Pilica River.”


  “Fine. I will be in my office presently.”

  As he eased quietly out of bed, he heard Gisela. “What is it, Hennie?”

  “The Russians have gotten frisky. I will be in the office. There is no need for you to get up, Schatzi.”

  Schloss had experienced enough interruptions in his sleep over the past few years that he automatically laid out his clothes for the next day. He stepped into the bathroom and plugged in his electric razor. The things were noisy and did not shave nearly as close as a blade, but for his purposes, it was ideal.

  Throwing on his clothes, he walked through the apartment to the kitchen where Frau Marsden had just poured a cup of coffee.

  “Here you go, Herr Schloss. I will bring breakfast down to your office presently. It promises to be a long day.”

  He stared at her for a moment and then grabbed the cup. He was too disgusted with events to try to probe how she knew these things. And the old bag wouldn’t tell him, anyway. Willem was just bringing the military digest into his office when he walked in.

  “Problems in the east, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  “Tell me about it. Very well. Let me get my feet planted on the ground, and then we’ll make some decisions.”

  “Of course, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  September 7, 1943; 7 AM

  Government Council Chamber

  Reich Chancellery

  Berlin, Germany

  “What do we have, Erhard?”

  General Milch looked up at Schloss and then back down at his briefing papers.

  “As we all know, the Russians managed a breakout in the Warka region at about four o’clock this morning. Our lines broke, and they were successful in exploiting the opportunity. They have pushed about ten kilometers past the lines as of my most recent information.”

  There was not a lot of extraneous conversation this morning. Everyone knew the seriousness of the situation.

  “Was this a new attack?” Rainer asked.

  “No, Herr Reichsprotektor. The Russians have been pushing hard in this sector for the past several days. There was no letup. Our forces were unable to reconstitute themselves. They were simply shoved out of the way.”

  “Do you have any information on what Guderian and Rommel plan now?”

  “General Model has rejoined Rommel on the front. Guderian has tasked him with salvaging our army.”

  “Does this mean that we don’t expect to halt the Russians?”

  “I’m sorry, Herr Reich Chancellor. That was a poor choice of words on my part. Guderian and Rommel are formulating a plan to cut off the salient and trap the Russian forces. They want to give them a taste of what we recently experienced.”

  “Do we honestly have a hope of turning this around?”

  “We must. It is like having a dam burst. The forces coming through the line will widen the opening until it all collapses. Guderian is worried that the road to Berlin will be open.”

  Schloss looked down at his notebook. He had been doodling meaningless scribbles as Milch spoke. He felt a deep gnawing fear in his vitals and wanted to run from the room and vomit. It would mean the end of his mission to fix the horrors of the Hitler years and to build a stable nation-state in Europe. He would likely die, as would Gisela, the children, Peter and Renate, and the new baby. He was not particularly concerned about the value of his life, but the risk to those he loved terrified him.

  He looked up again at Milch. “Had General Guderian indicated the timing of the counterthrust, General?”

  “It is too early to predict at this point, Herr Reich Chancellor. However, Rommel is moving as quickly as he can. Delay is dangerous.”

  “Colonel Gehlen, what are your sources in Moscow telling you?”

  “Nothing directly from the Kremlin, Herr Reich Chancellor,” the head of the Abwehr stated. “However, we have indications from sources in Kiev that if this offensive fails, the Russians will not have materiel and supplies for further incursions at this time. They would likely be forced to halt operations for the winter.”

  “What is our supply situation like, Erhard?” Schloss asked.

  “Not as good as we would like,” Milch admitted. “That is mainly because we are shooting off everything we can to try to stop the Russians. However, the logistics are working smoothly.”

  “Is this the time to use the new strategic reserve?”

  Milch looked towards the ceiling as he considered the question. A couple of the men at the table shifted in their chairs, and others cleared their throats.

  “We may have no choice, Herr Reich Chancellor. General Guderian has preferred to rotate the new people into the blooded battalions rather than sending them to the front in a group. The Russians we face now are battle-hardened. They have survived everything we could throw at them. We fear they would chew up a couple of new divisions.”

  “That makes sense. Guderian knows what he has to work with, and what he has to do. I won’t interfere.”

  “I still believe there is some value in one of us visiting the front,” Rainer said.

  Schloss looked at him. “Explain.”

  “I believe you are correct in that it would not be profitable to be looking over Rommel’s shoulder. However, we might be an encouragement to the troops. We need to let them know we are interested in them.”

  “We are,” Schloss laughed sourly. “Very well, Karl. You have made a good point. I will have Willem arrange my calendar so I can take a day to fly up to the front.”

  “No, Herr Reich Chancellor, I will fly up to greet the troops. We cannot risk your being captured or injured.”

  “We are all at risk. What difference does it make?”

  “I am expendable. You are not. My second in command would do as well as me, perhaps better should something happen. If we lose you, all is lost.”

  “I cannot believe that.”

  “Believe it, Hennie,” Peter interjected. “If we lose you, we lose everything. You cannot travel to the front.”

  Schloss looked around the room. “What’s so funny, Reinhard?” he snapped at Gehlen.

  Gehlen quickly tried to stifle his grin but failed. “On some things, Herr Reich Chancellor, you have no allies in the room.”

  “Very well. Rainer will visit the front and dodge bullets.” He shook his finger at the Reichsprotektor. “And if something happens to you, I swear I will entomb you in the Hall of Heroes.”

  Rainer looked horrified as Peter began to laugh and clap. “And if we meet somewhere on the other side, Karl, I will want to see the look on your face. The Hall of Heroes won’t be Valhalla.”

  “Oh, shut up, Peter,” Rainer growled, “it is not funny.”

  There were varying stages of mirth around the table. Schloss held his hand over the lower part of his face to hide his grin.

  “Mein Gott,” Rainer grumbled, “being laid to rest next to Hitler and Goering would be the final indignity.”

  At that, the rest of the room broke into laughter. Schloss laughed along with the group while he wondered if anything was truly funny that morning. He admitted to himself that he felt much better despite the terror to the east.

  “I suppose we should talk about the report we will release to the Press. They are probably already gathered around your office, Peter.”

  “A bunch of carrion, if you ask me,” Peter replied. “I asked my office to prepare a statement and bring it over so you could review it, Hennie. It is probably already here.”

  Schloss looked over at Willem. “Would you check, please?”

  “Of course, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  The secretary quietly slipped out of the room. The others looked around.

  “I have never been able to figure out how he moves around so quietly,” Rainer said.

  “I think it puts a lot of stress on my heart when I look up from my desk to find him standing there. I never hear him. He’s a ghost.”

  Willem walked back into the Council Chamber with a piece of foolscap.
“Here you go, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  “Do you want to look at it first, Peter?”

  “Go ahead, Hennie.”

  Schloss quickly read the press release and made a couple of notes with his pencil. He passed the paper over to Schreiber.

  “Other than the two items I noted, I think it looks good.”

  Peter read the document and cocked his head. “I think I would tone down the bombast a little. Maybe change the phrase “the forces of the glorious Fatherland.”

  Schloss looked up as Rainer snorted, and then he turned to Peter.

  “That is a good idea. We need to have people recognize how serious things are, but we need to avoid panic.”

  “If the Russians get to the Oder River, we will have that panic,” Schloss commented. “Okay, release it with those changes. And is there anything else, meine Herren?”

  No one said a thing.

  “Then, thank you for coming so early this morning. I am sure we all have much to do. And I can tell Karl is anxious to get off to Tempelhof.”

  He pretended to ignore Rainer’s glare as he stood and left the room.

  § § §

  September 7, 1943; 10 AM

  Stalin’s Meeting Room

  The Kremlin

  Moscow, USSR

  “Report on the military activities at the front, Nikita,” Stalin commanded.

  “Comrade Party Secretary, we have achieved a breakthrough. It happened during the early morning hours near Warka, Poland. That is somewhat south of Warsaw. My last report had us advancing about 12 kilometers beyond the German lines. A Colonel Lebed Lebedev achieved the breakout. General Smirnoff is pushing armor, troops, and supplies through as fast as possible to exploit the opening.”

  Stalin grunted. “That is good news, Nikita. How long can we sustain the breakout?”

  Khrushchev felt a pang of fear at the question because there was bad news mixed with the good.

  “Comrade Party Secretary, we have been able to keep our forces supplied at current combat levels. The salient will quickly exhaust our reserves, both of men and supplies. Winter is coming, and we will need to reequip with cold-weather uniforms and winterize the vehicles and equipment.”