Inconsequential Nazi

by Ward Wagher

  “The next generation of U-Boats has been an open secret, Hermann. What is it you need to know?”

  “Is there a way we can deny the request, Herr Schloss. I am really uneasy about this, and I hate to bother you with the question.”

  “No, that’s all right,” Schloss replied. “This is exactly the action you must take.”

  “As you know, I am uncomfortable about exporting some of our most advanced weapons.”

  “Yes, we have discussed this, Hermann. Was there something you needed to add to the conversation?”

  Goering hesitated. “It is just that it makes me uncomfortable. I know that you generally favor this but…”

  “What we disagree on is the level of risk,” Schloss said. “If you will allow me to recap. You are concerned that if we managed to get into a war with the Americans, we will be fighting against our own weapons. Secondly, you are concerned about the leakage of this information to the English.”

  “That sums it up, well, Herr Schloss.”

  “Very well, I don’t see that anything has changed. You have made some valid observations, and this worries me as well.”

  “But you seem to want to proceed in spite of this,” Goering protested.

  “You are correct. I would like to proceed. Let me ask you this, Herman, we have managed to capture multiple examples of the English electrical devices from downed aircraft. Have we succeeded in duplicating this equipment?”

  Goering was silent.

  “Come on, Hermann, let’s assume that the English were able to gain a complete set of plans to our new U-Boats, do you think they would be able to easily duplicate them?”

  “I think they would,” Goering immediately replied. “The Inselaffe are exceedingly clever.”

  “And how are we superior to them, then?” Schloss fired back.

  “We have had this discussion before, Herr Reich Chancellor,” Goering complained.

  And now this rotund squirrel is whining to me. I really do not need this, today, Schloss thought.

  “And you were the one who initiated the call, this morning, Herr Reichsmarshall,” Schloss shouted.

  He stopped and took a deep breath.

  “Okay, I apologize for my outburst,” Schloss said. “I don’t want to discourage open discussion, Hermann. But we have already considered these items at length. Give me something new to hang my hat on, and we’ll talk. But to continue rehashing previous arguments simply wastes everyone’s time.”

  “And, I apologize for wasting your time, Herr Reich Chancellor,” Goering said, sounding subdued.

  Schloss thought for a moment. “How are you feeling, Hermann?”

  Goering hesitated. “I have not felt entirely well these past few weeks. I have stayed off the morphine, and Emmy has forced me to lose weight and walk more. I had felt much better, earlier.”

  “Have you seen the doctor?”

  “After seeing what Herr Doctor Kranz did to the Fuhrer, I have been reluctant to visit a doctor.”

  “Go see a doctor, Hermann. You cannot function well if you do not feel well.”

  “Very well, Herr Reich Chancellor. I shall do so.”

  “Thank you for calling, Hermann.” And Schloss hung up.

  “Kirche!” he shouted.

  The secretary ghosted into the office. “Yes, Herr Reich Chancellor?”

  “The next time you are having one of those conversations with Goering’s Chief of Staff, please confirm that our Big Hermann has been to the doctor. He hasn’t been feeling well and is frightened of the quacks.”

  “I’m frightened of them, too, but I take your point,” Kirche replied. “I will try to contact Colonel Heit this afternoon.”

  “Thank you, Willem.”

  Schloss shook his head as Kirche slipped out of the room again. I have got to do something about him.

  He pulled another document from the top of the stack. He wondered if anyone would notice if he simply dropped it into the trash can. He knew he needed to examine it carefully. Within the mounds of drivel, he often found details that were important for him to know. He had not found anyone yet who could sift through the work reliably.

  He found himself checking the clock more often. If it moved faster, he could escape from the office and spend the evening with Gisela and the children. It wasn’t even noon yet. He just got so tired during the long days. He wondered if he was getting sick. He quailed at the thought of seeing a doctor. The vast differences in medical care between 1943, and 1982 made him reluctant to visit the doctors in this milieu. They were not that far from bleeding their patients as a routine treatment.

  He sighed as he looked at his desk. The work just never ceased. He wondered where the fun went. Finally, he shook his head. Things were not getting done while he sat and stared at the desk. He picked up the report and began reading.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  December 11, 1942; 2:30 PM

  Government Council Chamber

  Reich Chancellery

  Berlin, Germany

  Once again Heinrich Schloss felt trapped as the council worked its way slowly through the interminable list of items to discuss. On an impulse, he had requested that the heavy drapes be pulled away from the windows, and he was able to see the fat snowflakes lazily drifting from the sky. It reflected his feelings somewhat and he wished he was anywhere else at the moment. Then he shook himself back into awareness. Letting his attention slip in this group was dangerous.

  “And so, meine Herren,” von Ribbentrop droned on, “we are seeing overall growth of the economy in the four percent range, which you will agree, is very good. This has reduced the federal government deficit to insignificance, and greatly increased employment.”

  “Excuse me, Herr Commerce Minister,” Goering interrupted, “what is our level of unemployment at the moment?”

  Schloss was certain that Goering timed his interruptions in an attempt to rattle the commerce minister. There were not many things that Hermann was truly good at, but he seemed to have a gift for throwing the other man off stride.

  “Well, er… Excuse me, Herr Reichsmarshall, I do have those numbers in here.”

  Von Ribbentrop quickly paged through his binder and located the page he wanted. “Here we are. Current unemployment is about 7.5%.”

  “That seems a bit high to me,” Goering stated.

  “It is high. However, it has come down from nine percent in the spring, and this includes the people we have released from the armed forces back into the civilian economy.”

  “Given the circumstances,” Schloss commented, “I think that’s very good. It is certainly better than the English are doing.”

  “We are even seeing commerce pick up in the conquered provinces,” von Ribbentrop continued. “Nothing like the robust growth we have in Germany proper, but still satisfactory.”

  “I don’t understand why we even care about the provinces?” Goering muttered. “As long as they keep their place, I don’t pay much attention.”

  Every once in a while, Hermann comes out with one of these outrageous statements that I cannot let stand.

  “Let me state for the record,” Schloss said, “that the more we can encourage economic growth in the provinces, the fewer problems we will have. Does it appear, Joachim, that our policy of taxing the provincial governments instead of directly dunning the businesses has worked well?”

  “It’s a bit early to tell, for sure, Herr Reich Chancellor. It has certainly reduced the confrontations we have had with business owners. The provincial governments are certainly not happy about it, but they have the experience and expertise at collecting taxes.”

  Goering rolled his eyes and then concentrated on his notes. The weekly jousting matches between the two men were legendary, and it looked like von Ribbentrop came out ahead this time. He continued for another ten minutes. While it was a soporific, Schloss thought the commerce minister’s presentation was important and everyone needed to be conversant with it. He closed his notebook and looked at Schloss.


  “Good presentation, Joachim,” Schloss said. “For the rest of you, I will conduct an exam on the content next Monday, so I expect you all to study over the weekend.”

  After the expected polite laughter died down, he pointed to Gehlen. “Anything to report, Reinhard?”

  “A few items, Herr Reich Chancellor. As I have reported, I have a team doing threat analysis on foreign intelligence operations since the treaty was signed. As predicted, the English have begun moving agents into the provinces as well as Germany proper.”

  “That really makes me nervous,” Peter Schreiber said.

  “For good reason,” Karl Rainer added. “We are having to rapidly staff up our counterintelligence operations. It is very hard to track everyone coming into the country. I’m glad Reinhard set this committee up. We have contributed half the people for the team.”

  Gehlen nodded. “And I appreciate that. Of course, we have also been able to push agents into England and Ireland now, so the English have the same problem.”

  “So long as we stay ahead of them,” Schloss said.

  “And we are hearing some disturbing things out of Russia,’ Gehlen said.

  Schloss felt a coldness in the pit of his stomach as Gehlen continued.

  “The Red Army is working to raise its readiness levels across the board. Our sources think this is coming directly from Stalin and Beria.”

  “What are they getting ready to do?” Schreiber asked.

  “A very good question, Peter,” Goering said. “I don’t mind telling you, Herr Gehlen, this makes me nervous.”

  More like terrified, Schloss thought. Thank Gott Hermann recognizes the threat. And, in spite of the risks, we are going to have to honor the threat.

  “Along with that,” Gehlen continued, “the Russian economy is in free fall. There is a lot of unhappiness. It is becoming more apparent, in spite of the fear of the purges.”

  “Events are backing Herr Stalin into a corner.” Schloss murmured.

  “Excuse me, Herr Reich Chancellor?” Gehlen asked.

  Schloss waved a hand. “I’m sorry, I was talking to myself.”

  “I think I heard you,” Gehlen said. “And I agree. I think Stalin is going to start fishing in troubled waters as a way of distracting his people from their domestic problems.”

  The room grew quiet as everyone considered the impact of what Gehlen had told them.

  “Any other good news, Herr Gehlen?” Schloss asked.

  “Yes, I suppose I do,” Gehlen said reluctantly. “We lost our last source in Tokyo.”

  “Any idea what happened?” Rainer asked.

  “We can only assume the Kempe Tai arrested him. Since we closed down the embassy there, the Japanese have been hunting down and arresting all of our people.”

  “I would be the first to admit the Japanese have no reason to love us,” von Ribbentrop commented. “But doesn’t this mean they are completely isolated? Do any of the western countries still have diplomatic relations with them?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” Schreiber said. “They are hard to read, anyway. Without resources on the ground in the home islands, we have not the slightest idea what they are up to. All we can do is react.”

  “Fortunately, they are on the other side of the world from us,” Rainer said. “With the English in the game, I expect the Americans to finally regain their footing. The Japanese are not something I am worried about at the moment. If they managed to gain and hold a position on the American West Coast, I might revise my opinion.”

  “I don’t think they can project their power that far,” Gehlen said. “They have been remarkably lucky so far in that war. I don’t think that can last.”

  “Very well,” Schloss said. “Anything else?”

  Gehlen shook his head.

  “Now, Herr Reichsmarshall, what have you brought us today?”

  Goering smiled. “We are learning the differences between German and American military culture. We have been working with Colonel Carlsen to develop the logistics for the transfer of the bombers. My adjutant wanted to form a committee and work through all the issues. Carlsen’s adjutant, Major Johnson just jumped in and started working through the issues. I think we should see things start to happen in January.”

  “As opposed to sometime in the next two years,” Schloss asked with a smile.

  Goering laughed. “Exactly. I think we will learn some things from the Americans.”

  § § §

  December 12, 1942; 6:00 PM

  San Diego Navy Base

  San Diego, California USA

  The U.S.S. Enterprise ghosted into the San Diego harbor with the last gloaming of the light in the west. Following the disasters of Pearl Harbor and the defeats of the United States Navy in 1942, the Enterprise represented the new navy. Originally designated as the Essex, the first of the new class of carriers was named after one of the ships sunk at Pearl Harbor one year previously.

  The captain, Norman Lloyd, stood at the rail on the bridge and watched carefully as the harbor pilot guided the carrier to its berth. The ship was fresh from the shipyards and a hasty commissioning. Lloyd did not want to scratch the paint on his new ship. He was proud of it.

  Standing next to the captain was Admiral Frank Jack Fletcher. Fletcher had survived the Japanese raid on Pearl Harbor by virtue of being ashore when the attack came. Over the ensuing year, Fletcher had wavered between relief and guilt for surviving when so many of his fellow sailors either inhabited the military cemeteries or were missing under the waters of Pearl.

  “Well, Admiral,” Lloyd commented, “we’re here. Finally.”

  “And we probably are the A-Number-One target in the entire Pacific Ocean right now, Norm. What do you want to bet that somebody dropped a postcard into the mail to Tojo when we pulled out of Norfolk?”

  Lloyd chuckled sourly. “No bets, Admiral. I intend to maintain a high level of readiness while we’re tied up at the pier. The Jap navy has become entirely too good at slipping a task force into range of our west coast ports.”

  “True,” Fletcher grunted. “I really want to keep the Big E under covers until she’s ready to go into action.”

  “Which is going to be sooner rather than later, Sir.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “May I assume you have not been able to talk Admiral Nimitz out of this operation?” Lloyd asked.

  Fletcher looked at the combing around the bridge and raised an eyebrow.

  “Sorry, Sir.” Lloyd immediately said.

  “Let’s limit the need to know to the two of us for right now, Captain.”

  Lloyd accepted the rebuke from the admiral. “Aye, aye, Sir.”

  “We are going to have to make the rounds of the naval establishment for the next several evenings. That being said, would you join me for breakfast tomorrow?”

  “Of course, Sir.”

  “Good. We need to take some time to update each other on a regular basis.”

  Chester Nimitz was hoping for a quiet evening in his quarters. It seemed like too many urgent matters arose at 16:30, and he was tired. He was just getting ready to call away his car for the evening when Captain Charles Russell “Rusty” Hull knocked on the door and stepped into the office.

  “Admiral, the Enterprise will be docking within the hour.”

  Nimitz sighed inwardly. He would never show anything other than complete devotion to duty. So, he smiled at the captain.

  “Thanks, Rusty. I really need to talk to Jack Fletcher. Please send a car to the pier and request his presence for dinner. Enterprise’s skipper needs to come, too. See if the colonel is available. It would be helpful if he were there.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir,” Hull replied. “You will be eating in the Officers’ Club?”

  “Yes. Please call and reserve a room.”

  “Of course, Admiral. I’ll see to it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Hull had also been hoping for an evening off for the Admiral. Nimitz was showing subtle signs of f
atigue, and one of the duties of the adjutant was to make sure the Admiral took his necessary rest. This was difficult with someone as duty bound as Chester Nimitz.

  Fletcher and Lloyd had continued chatting as the ship was moored. They looked down at the dock when a 1940 Cadillac rolled to a stop.

  “That would be Admiral Nimitz’s car, I suspect,” Fletcher said.

  “Yes, Sir,” Lloyd replied as the navy captain climbed out of the back seat. “And that would be Rusty, I imagine.”

  “Have him brought to my cabin,” Fletcher said. “And then hang around. We can find out what he wants. I suspect it’s an audience with CINCPAC.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir.”

  By military standards, the officers’ club at the San Diego naval base was luxurious. The furniture was solid wood, instead of the military issue steel tables and chairs. Although the walls were merely painted, there were real curtains over the windows. And there was nothing wrong with the food.

  Admiral Nimitz had the reputation of being curt to his friends and cutting to those he was not impressed with. Much of this was due to his position as CINCPAC, or Commander in Chief, Pacific, during a time when much of the Pacific fleet was sitting on the bottom of various parts of the western Pacific. He was faced with constant demands for defense forces by the major cities of the west coast. The recent attack on downtown San Francisco underscored the seriousness of those demands. Circumstances forced him into reactive mode, and he had no way to take the fight to the Japanese. His first new-build carrier had arrived, and via a direct order from the president, it had an immediate tasking that he thought verged on insane.

  “Kind of you to invite me to dinner, Admiral,” Colonel James Doolittle said as he worked on his porterhouse steak.

  “Since the carrier assigned to your mission arrived, I thought it would be a good idea for everyone involved to get together and review the details,” Nimitz replied.

  “I am still struggling with the idea of getting a B-25 off the roof without putting it into the water,” Norm Lloyd said. “It seems like there are several physical laws that you would have to violate.”