"I'll bet they even said it was minor surgery." Farnum said.
Tom's arm and shoulder had continued to pain him and he finally relented and gone to a doctor. In a twist of fate, he'd gotten the same Doctor Crain who'd examined his skull after the mugging. Crain diagnosed a sprain and some torn muscles that were aggravated by scar tissue from the car crash and fire. He'd recommended having the shoulder surgically repaired and Tom had gone along. Another doctor had done the work and happily pronounced that all was well. So why did his arm hurt like hell? Because it was healing, Crain said, and quit being a baby.
A young PFC came in carrying a pouch. "This just got delivered from Camp Washington, sir," he said and gave it to Tom who signed for it. He noted that it had been delivered to the Pentagon by a WAC officer, which meant that the pouch's contents couldn't be all that important. He would pass it on to General Truscott, who probably would say nothing about it, which further told Tom that whatever it was wasn't very important.
The Pentagon might be the nerve center of the American military, but it was also one dull place. Worse, there were very few women around. He'd been told that the WAC who delivered the pouch was pleasant but plain and a little flat-chested, which meant that half the men in the Pentagon were in love with her. Whoever said that women greatly outnumbered men in Washington must have been drinking heavily.
"How's the arm?" Colonel Downing asked, startling Tom.
"Getting better, sir.” It wouldn't help to complain. Nobody cared. “I am curious, though, what is going on in Camp Washington that they send us these pouches?"
Downing shrugged. "Beats me too. The camp was recently declared operational and there are a couple of thousand intelligence types inside. I understand they are trying to read the Nazi's minds, assuming that the Germans have minds to read. Seriously, I understand they are monitoring radio transmissions within the Third Reich and even on their ships. I guess they're hoping to pull pearls from the garbage."
"But aren't German messages coded?"
"The important ones are, but a lot of ordinary stuff isn't and sometimes you can figure out a lot from the trivial. If some supply officer in an armored division asks for ten thousand pair of long johns, you can pretty much assume that the division is heading someplace cold."
"Except that in our army it might mean they were heading to warm climes, because either somebody screwed up, or they want to keep anybody who's listening, guessing."
Downing shook his head sadly. "You're thinking too much, Tom. The army doesn't like that in an officer."
Franklin Delano Roosevelt, three times President of the United States, was sixty-one years old and looked much older. The thirty-second president was pale and gaunt, and a bout of polio many years earlier had left him confined to a wheelchair. Everyone knew he walked with difficulty, but most didn't know it was all a charade. FDR couldn't walk at all. When he appeared to move through a crowd, it was because loyal aides and Secret Service agents literally picked him up by his elbows so that he sailed through the throng. He appeared to be walking, but his useless feet never touched the ground.
The stress of the job, coupled with his failing health, were a great concern to everyone. This day, however, the president was angry. Normally, he was a little intimidated by General George C. Marshall and Admiral Ernest King, but not this morning.
FDR squinted through his reading glasses. "First of all, let me genuinely commend this Major Grant on his escapade and on his safe return. You will see to it that Grant gets a gold star on his forehead for his efforts. However, I have to consider that the whole enterprise was ill-conceived. We will never again send a field grade officer on such a mission during peacetime."
Marshall responded. "While I did not specifically authorize the trip, I support it in hindsight. We need intelligence regarding what is happening in Canada and we simply aren't getting it."
"But what if he had been arrested or even shot? What then? His trip was a clear provocation and we are not ready for that. Whether I like it or not, and I don’t, Congress has decreed that we have but one war to fight and that is against the Japanese. At some time in the not too distant future, it is likely that we will be fighting Hitler, but when it happens it must be clear that Herr Adolf is the aggressor. If Grant had been killed or caught, we would have had to apologize and promise to be good little boys and girls and never do it again. My enemies in congress, who are also your enemies, would have had a field day."
Neither man needed to be reminded that congress had rebuffed FDR’s attempts to declare war on Germany after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. One war at a time was the answer, and many reminded him of his campaign pledge to not send American boys off to fight foreign wars. If Germany had declared war on the U.S., that would have been different, but Hitler had not cooperated. For much the same reason, congress refused to allow Roosevelt to use force to expel the German army from Ontario. Later, was the collective response from a majority of the members of Congress.
Marshall would not be put off. "We need to know what is going on, sir. The Germans have a sizeable and growing military force in Canada, one that is far larger than what is needed to keep Ontario in check."
Roosevelt glanced at the report before him. "Your Grant identified six German army divisions in Canada. Three divisions are regular infantry and one SS, along with two armored divisions, one regular and one SS. Assuming that the units are at full strength, the total German force would be no more than a hundred and fifty thousand men and that includes support staff. Your man also identified several Luftwaffe units that could easily total several hundred planes."
"As you said, sir," Marshall continued, "that is far more than they need to keep Ontario under their thumbs.”
Roosevelt sighed. "Perhaps, just perhaps, they view things differently. Perhaps they are concerned that we will attack and try to knock them out of North America, which is all the more reason that there should be no provocations."
King disagreed. "I would think that shooting at Grant would be provocative on their part, but worse is the fact that their warships are cruising very close to our Lake Ontario shores. I'm certain that they will shortly have armed ships in the other great lakes. The Welland Canal can handle anything up to a light cruiser in size, and we wouldn't be able to respond since the Canal is in Canadian territory."
"If that happens we will construct our own fleet," FDR said and suddenly laughed. "Didn't we do that in the war of 1812, and didn't that turn out all right?"
"I wouldn't want to chance that again," King replied grimly, not seeing the humor in the comment. "Still, the Nazis control it and their Kriegsmarine could send destroyers, subs, and even small cruisers up the Canal and into the other Great Lakes, which would be a potential disaster. And it would be a provocation in my opinion and a violation of our treaty with Canada. They have no need for warships on the Great Lakes if we are not at war with each other."
Roosevelt rubbed his eyes. "Sometimes I wish it wasn't so complicated. We are at war with Japan who is at war with us and Great Britain. Britain is at war with Japan, but there is an armistice between England and Germany that may or may not become a real and unwanted treaty. Thus, Germany is technically still at war with England and the Soviet Union, but there is a tacit armistice between them. Germany and Japan are still allies, but Germany has not declared war on us, while we are at war with Japan. It's Byzantine. It reminds me of Abbott and Costello's who's on first routine. If it wasn't tragic, it would be laughable."
"And let's not forget the prisoners the Germans still hold," Marshall added somberly.
Large numbers of British and Commonwealth soldiers had fallen into German hands when the British collapsed. Many thousands were interned in England and would not be released to return home until a treaty was signed. If England did not go along with Germany’s wishes, hostilities would resume and England was helpless. Renewed submarine warfare could result in starvation, particularly since the American navy was focused on the Pacific.
A number of other prisoners, such as those captured in North Africa, had been shipped to Germany. The Germans had declined to release them since they would likely be sent to help England fight the Japanese, their erstwhile ally.
"What do you wish?" asked FDR.
"Information," Marshall said quickly. "The people at Camp Washington are ready to pick up where the British left off, but we must have more and we must have it now. We know the Nazis are up to something, but what?"
"I cannot turn the FBI loose in Canada," the president said vehemently. "If their agents were caught, we would be exposed. Besides, and despite what Hoover says, they are not up to that type of enterprise. FBI agents are pathologically unable to disguise themselves or hide in a crowd. What do you think of using the OSS instead?"
Marshall looked askance, while King rolled his eyes. Neither man had any confidence in the newly formed Office of Strategic Services led by William J., "Wild Bill," Donovan, an old friend of Roosevelt's. It had been formed shortly after Pearl Harbor with the hope that they would penetrate behind enemy lines and provide intelligence as well as performing acts of sabotage. For a number of reasons including a dearth of targets in the Pacific and a total lack of agents who could pass as Japanese, the enterprise never really got started. It was clear that the OSS was waiting for a war with Germany. It was also evident that the American military had little confidence in the OSS’s abilities.
FDR was clearly enjoying his guests' discomfiture. "Yes, I know that many of them are amateurs, socialites, and dilettantes, but they are all patriots and volunteers. More important, though, they can all be identified as civilians and that means they can wander about in Canada relative safety while we deny their existence. I think it's marvelous. After all, aren't the Germans doing the same thing right now?"
King and Marshall had to agree, albeit reluctantly. They'd both seen FBI reports indicating that numbers of German "tourists" and "students" had crossed into the United States and were wondering around with impunity. So far the FBI had been unable to find anything more sinister than tourist-like photographs and innocuous journals when they broke into their hotel rooms. Yes, the U.S. needed information and who the devil cared how it was acquired?
Marshall decided to shift the subject. "Sir, you say you are concerned about a provocation. What about the Germans provoking us? What can our response be?"
"I don't want war with Germany unless they are clearly the aggressor," Roosevelt said uncomfortably. He knew where the conversation was going.
Admiral King did not let him down. "We cannot wait until we've had another Pearl Harbor, Mr. President. Hypothetically, while an armed man is not much of an immediate threat to me, he becomes more so when he draws his weapon and, in my opinion becomes a grave threat that requires a response when he points that gun at my very valuable person. I sincerely hope that we do not have to wait until that armed man actually shoots before responding. If so, it could be too late."
Roosevelt's response was almost a whisper. He was so tired. Why the devil had he agreed to a third term and why was he even thinking of a fourth? Had he been insane? Why, yes, he answered himself. If Wendell Willkie would run against him in 1944 instead of New York's Republican governor Tom Dewey being the likely candidate, maybe he'd just concede and go home. What a wonderful thought. Nor could he think of a Democrat who could replace him. His vice president, Henry Wallace, was a mistake who was hated by both liberals and conservatives.
"Gentlemen, find me the provocation and I will give you the response."
Oskar Neumann understood that the Gestapo was greatly overrated as a police force. That was not its job. Its real task was not to enforce the law, but to enforce the ideology of the Reich. What was not underrated was that it depended on terror to be effective. People across Europe lived in deathly fear of the claws of the Gestapo, and Neumann was confident that it would soon be the case in Canada where fear of the Gestapo was growing almost daily.
The Gestapo was a totally German organization that wasn't that large in numbers, perhaps sixty thousand agents in all the Reich and its conquered territories. The Gestapo relied on fear, terror, and large numbers of informers to be effective. Its presence in Canada was cumbersome if for no other reason than that few members of the Gestapo were fluent in English and most of those who were had been sent to England. Neumann, who considered himself fluent in English, was sent the dregs. Good agents, yes, but not able to communicate well in Canada. Some of his so-called English speaking agents couldn't read a newspaper or order food in a restaurant, which had the effect of making them look stupid, even laughable when they made mistakes. That too would soon change as a very effective propaganda effort directed from Berlin was bearing fruit. It blamed the United States for England's defeat and Canada's current humiliation.
Relations between the U.S. and Canada had frequently been strained and many Canadians felt betrayed by their large neighbor to the south who had done nothing to help them when the Nazis rolled through Europe. In what Neumann conceded was a brilliant ploy, little was being directly said about the evil of the Jews. Not yet, he admitted. Soon, however, all that would soon change. The average Canadian might not yet believe in Judaism's inherent evil and the need for it to be rooted out, violently if necessary. Articles planted in newspapers did point out that Jews controlled the U.S. banking and entertainment industries, but did not yet call for violence against Canada's small Jewish population.
Neumann held the rank equivalent to a colonel in the army and the SS, and had all of metropolitan Toronto to control and only fifty agents with which to do it. Thanks to the war, almost seven hundred thousand now people lived in Toronto and many thousands more in the suburbs and nearby cities, such as Hamilton, with its one hundred and sixty thousand. Worse, the population of Toronto was a mongrel one. Immigrants from Italy, Portugal, and even Asia made Toronto a racially offensive place.
There were more than eleven million people in Canada and fully a third of them lived in Ontario and most of those were in the south of the province. Ottawa, Canada’s capital city, was small in comparison.
The Canadian authorities were passively uncooperative with Neumann and the Gestapo and he could do little about it. At least not yet, which infuriated him. He was making progress, but not enough to satisfy his goals and ambitions. Someday soon all of the damned Canadians would realize that they'd lost the war and were going to lose a lot more if they didn't start enforcing the policies of the Reich, especially those regarding Jews. There weren't all that many Jews in Canada, and he was confident that there would be a lot fewer very soon. Whether they fled to the United States or were interned in camps, or even shipped to their deaths in Poland didn't matter. The Jewish cancer would be obliterated.
Neumann had set up a group of young and disaffected thugs into what he called the Canadian Legion, and outfitted them with uniforms that featured black shirts, which had become their unofficial name. It was based on a similar fascist organization in England. But there were only a couple of hundred of them and most of them knew little about Nazism. Their desire was to bully and lord it over those other Canadians who considered them scum and trash at best, which, in Neumann's opinion, they were.
One plays the cards one is dealt, Neumann thought and then laughed bitterly. He'd been dealt a bunch of jokers. The Munro brothers, Wally, Jed, and Paul, were the best of a bad lot and he thought that the total combined intellects of the three of them were about equal to one normal human. They seemed to live for the opportunity to abuse and assault other people, and robbery was like taking candy to them. There were rumors of their involvement in rapes, which did not surprise Neumann.
The Toronto based Gestapo had offices in the city's downtown, but the hub of their activities was an isolated farm ten miles to the north of the city. Neumann envisioned it as a place where people could be brought, imprisoned, and interrogated without neighbors complaining about the screams. So far, he'd only had the opportunity to use it a few times and with mixed results. He
had hoped to be able to use locals for rough interrogations, but people like the Munro brothers were far more concerned with beating people than with extracting information. Neumann thought that torture for its own sake was not effective, although he admitted it could be satisfying. Torturing women was something he and the Munros found especially pleasant.
Neumann decided to discuss details of the task at hand only with Wally Munro, the best of a bad lot.
"Mr. Munro, do you understand why you are being sent south to do this?"
"Sure. You don't want to get caught."
Arrogant little shit, Neumann thought. "Close enough. If something should happen, it would be far better if the someone caught is not a German. Diplomatic immunity can only carry so far. Now, what are you to do?"
Wally Munro was short, stocky, and in his early twenties. He was irked by the question. "We've been over this, Mr. Neumann."
"Humor me."
"Simple. We are to intercept the car, shoot the people, and then make it look like a robbery by taking everything of value. But most of all, we are to take that pouch."
Good, Neumann thought. By taking wallets and money along with the pouch, it might make the Washington police, along with the American military, think that it had been just a particularly violent robbery. While he was not totally confident that the charade would provide cover for very long, it might last long enough. And if one of the Munros should get caught, or better, killed, there would be nothing to link them back to him.
"And if one of you is caught?"
"We are to sit tight in jail until someone bails us out and then we disappear. Our phony ID says we're from Virginia, so they won't worry too much about us flying back to Canada."
"And if one of you is killed?"
"Then we take as many of the fuckers with us as we can. Oh yeah, if we can find out who was responsible, we'll make them wish they'd never been born."
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