Inconsequential Nazi

by Ward Wagher

  “You are not listening, Karl,” Schloss said with a smile. He waved his index finger at the Reichsprotektor.

  “If the Russian people decide they’ve had it, they may topple Stalin. But I think the Russian Army is to be respected. They have a level of bloody-mindedness that surpasses the English. If Stalin starts a war, we will have to be very smart. I don’t think we can beat them in a head to head contest.”

  “That does not encourage me,” Rainer said. “But I understand what you are saying.”

  “The Americans say it well. We need to play to our strengths. I think the Luftwaffe will control the air. We have the new fighters coming on line. And we’ve got one-hundred Boeings coming from America. Bombing alone won’t stop the Russians. Goering proved that in the English war. I think, though, we can really slow them down. We have the Vengeance weapons that von Braun and Dohrenberger are developing. And, we potentially have the special weapons that Heisenberg is developing.”

  “But you don’t think that will win a war for us?”

  “Heisenberg’s weapons might.” Schloss picked up his pencil and began tapping it on the desk. “We need to discuss this at some length in the council meeting.”

  “You will have Willem put it on the agenda?” Rainer asked.

  “Yes, I will do so. I wish we could send a warning to Stalin to not try anything. We really can’t do much without appearing weak.”

  “I will give it some thought.”

  “You do that. I wonder how much time we have. I suspect Stalin would kick off an operation in the spring. On the other hand, the Russians like the winter.”

  “That is not encouraging, Herr Schloss.”

  “I am trying to think of all the worst-case possibilities, Karl. If we plan on the worst and execute based upon that, I think we will do better than we expect.”

  “I understand. I fear your worst case assumption may turn out to be accurate.”

  “That is what I fear.”

  “Very well, Herr Reich Chancellor. What would you have me do?”

  “Keep developing information assets, Karl. Make sure your people are as prepared as possible. And watch everybody in the government. Goering has been doing well lately. But, if he gets sloppy, I will have to do something.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Rainer said. “I don’t particularly like him, but all of the alternatives are worse.”

  “That just brightens my day, Karl.”

  “Right. Anything else, Sir?”

  Schloss shook his head. “I know you have things to do. Thanks for allowing me to bend your ear.”

  “The honor is mine.”

  Rainer stood up, clicked his heels together, and walked out of the office. Schloss looked down at the never-ending paperwork on his desk and sighed. And what would I do without Karl and Peter? We seem to be developing good mid-level people in the government. But, I have yet to identify anyone with the skills to replace one of them.

  He looked at his desk clock. Was it only 10:30 in the morning? He had been exhausted when he climbed out of bed. It was worse now. Perhaps he should consider getting away for a bit with Gisela. Unfortunately, he could not escape the crushing responsibility he was carrying every day.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  December 23, 1942; 9 AM

  Near Aswad, Libya

  Stefan Gorber stepped out of the Kubelwagen and looked around the desert. He carried the grandiose title of Petroleum Engineer, thanks to years spent in Texas working for various wildcatters. He had developed a reputation for reliably identifying potential oil fields, and then sinking successful wells. He was not only successful in finding oil, but he had later founded his own oil drilling company, which had made him a wealthy man.

  During the early part of the war, he had kept his head down in Texas and grew his company. He was afraid the United States would go to war with Germany, and if it did, he would have to make some tough choices. Fortunately, following the death of Hitler, the relationship between the Americans and the Reich began to thaw. Ultimately, he began to receive feelers from the Standard – IG Farben company in Germany. The Managing Director of the oil company had dangled a tasty lure in front of him – the opportunity to develop a virgin oil field in Libya.

  During this time, the president of Gulf Oil initiated a plan to develop the oil industry in Venezuela and began shopping for someone with the necessary expertise to lead the project. Gorber was the prime candidate, however, Stefan was interested in returning to Germany. The Libyan project sounded intriguing. If nothing else, the desert was more interesting to him than the mosquito-infested shores of South America. Friends of his had come home from the Caribbean frighteningly ill from Malaria and he wanted none of that. Life was too short without suffering the fevers and chills of the double-ended disease.

  Gulf proposed the purchase of Gorber’s company, and he agreed to sell as long as he was not part of the deal. The money was attractive and added to his wealth. So, Stefan Gorber returned to Germany along with much of his original crew of roughnecks, including his longtime assistant Vincent Chase.

  “This looks like a good place to sink a test well, Vince,” Gorber said.

  Because of his years in the United States, Gorber’s Germany accent was minimal. He usually could pass for an American. But he was doing this project for Germany. He had grown up in Bavaria and loved his native country. He was delighted that Herr Schloss was making strides in cleaning up the fearful mess caused by Hitler and his gang.

  “You think so, Stef?” Chase asked. “I still can never figure out how you decide these things.”

  Gorber tapped the side of his nose and grinned at his assistant. “You must listen to the man, Vince.”

  They turned to look as two trucks containing a platoon of Wehrmacht troops rolled to a stop behind them. The company had insisted on providing the protection since the Libyan tribes scattered around the country would think nothing of robbing travelers of everything including their vehicles and their lives. The Wehrmacht captain stepped out of the cab of the leading truck and walked over to Gorber.

  “Why are we stopping, Herr Gorber?” he asked.

  “Because this is where we are going to drill, Herr Captain,” Gorber replied.

  “Here?”

  “You have a problem with that, Captain?”

  “I suppose not. What do you expect to find besides hauling sand out of the ground?”

  Gorber grinned as he stuck a cigarette in his mouth. He had brought his own supply of Camels with him since American cigarettes were still scarce in the area.

  “Do you have a problem with me sinking a test well here?” Gorber quietly asked the captain.

  The captain stared at him, and then looked around. “No. I guess not.”

  “Very well, then, Captain. I see our equipment trucks in the distance. When the rest of my team gets here, we will get busy. You will, of course, begin setting up the camp. Along with the guards.”

  “I don’t expect a lot of trouble out here, Sir,” the captain replied.

  “No? See that village over there? The people there are already wondering what we’re doing. If you don’t watch things, they will carry off anything that isn’t tied down.”

  “Very well, Herr Gorber.” The captain did not seem convinced.

  The captain turned and walked back to the lead truck. He spoke with a couple of sergeants, who began shouting orders at the troop. They began breaking out the tents and other things when Gorber’s team arrived. Two of the trucks were loaded with well casings. A third contained most of a portable drilling rig. Another truck contained a generator and other pieces of equipment. Two tankers completed the group – water was a necessary ingredient for drilling, and they would need a lot of it. The team knew what to do. They had worked for Gorber for years, and they set to work.

  Chase sidled over to Gorber. He nodded at the village in the distance. “I don’t like the look of those sand crabs over there.”

  “Herr Captain Dantzer didn’t believe me when I w
arned him about them,” Gorber replied. “He may require an attitude adjustment.”

  “So long as we don’t wake up in the morning with our throats cut, Boss,” Chase replied. “That would hurt.”

  “You have a way of driving through to the heart of the problem, Vincent. Let’s plan on having the team alert tonight. I would like to teach the captain a lesson without anybody getting seriously injured. We may also need to teach the villagers not to mess with us.”

  “I’ll warn the boys,” Chase replied. “They won’t be happy about working tomorrow without any sleep.”

  Gorber swore in German. “They had no problem working after they stayed up all night in the bars in Galveston drinking and wenching.”

  “There is that,” Chase agreed. “And for what we’re paying them….”

  Gorber chuckled. “And that, too. I don’t want any of the tools walking off, either. It’s a long way back to Tripoli. Mein Gott, I’ve never seen so much sand.”

  “It’ll encourage the men not to wander off.”

  “That is so true. I don’t understand how people can live out here.”

  “Right. Well, I suppose I’d better get them moving. They’d otherwise sit there all day.”

  “It all pays the same,” Gorber laughed. “Get them moving, Vincent.”

  Gorber placed his hands on his hips and scanned the area. There was a certain stark beauty in the barren hills. This was more desolate than West Texas, but like that part of the United States, Gorber thought there was a lot of wealth under the sands.

  § § §

  December 31, 1942; 3 AM

  Western Pacific

  Admiral Jack Fletcher stood near the rail alongside Captain Norm Lloyd. They both stared out at the deep blackness of the early morning ocean. Overhead the panoply of stars was sundered by the twisted banner of the Milky Way.

  “Decent weather,” Fletcher commented.

  “Couldn’t ask for better,” Lloyd replied. “Cold, though. I’ll be ever so glad when I can get those planes off my deck and get out of here.”

  “You’ve been saying that for the past week.”

  “And my prayers are more fervent the closer we get to Japan.”

  “Yeah, and we have only two carriers and one usable deck. I don’t mind telling you, Norm, that it scares me too. We’re close enough we can launch anytime so we won’t have to push a million dollars’ worth of Mitchell bombers into the drink.”

  Around the corner of this deck on the island, they heard a voice. “Sir, you will need to put that cigarette out, right now.”

  Lloyd swore under his breath. “What idiot is trying to light up out here?”

  He moved away from the rail and walked quickly around the corner where one of the watch standers had confronted an Army pilot.

  “Hey, Sailor, I just needed to catch a little air,” the pilot protested.

  “Officer of the Deck!” the watch stander shouted.

  “Belay,” Lloyd said conversationally. “Lieutenant, you will put the cigarette out, right now.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The pilot dropped the cigarette on the deck and squashed it with his shoe.

  “In the sand bucket, if you please,” Lloyd continued.

  The pilot quickly bent over to pick the butt and moved a few steps over to place it in the sand bucket.

  “How did you get up here?” Lloyd asked.

  “Sir, I just walked up here. We’re getting ready to fly, and I needed some time to myself if you know what I mean.”

  “I understand, Lieutenant. Unless you have a duty station up here, you’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

  “Very well,” Lloyd said. “For your store of knowledge, a cigarette coal can be seen for miles during a night like this. We don’t need a Jap slipping a torpedo up our behind before we can get you guys off the deck.”

  “Yes, Sir. I mean, no Sir. We don’t want that at all.”

  “We’ll be launching in another hour or so. It might be a good time for you to get some breakfast. I asked the galley to serve up steaks for the flight crews.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  The lieutenant quickly retreated the way he came. Lloyd leaned through the door into the bridge.

  “Is the Exec up?”

  “Yes, Skipper,” The executive officer quickly slipped out the door. “Cold out here.”

  “Right,” Lloyd said. “One of the Army pilots managed to find his way up here, and light a cigarette. I spoke to the pilot. Please see to your people.”

  “Aye, aye, Skipper. I’ll take care of it.”

  Lloyd walked back around the corner to where Fletcher still stood.

  “Well, I just ruined the Exec’s day,” Lloyd chuckled.

  “You were kind to that pilot,” Fletcher observed.

  “He has more guts than I’ll ever have flying something like that off the deck. And it will get really lonely up there.”

  “I wonder if any of them will survive.”

  “Well, Sir, we’ve gotten far closer to the Japanese Home Islands than I thought we ever would. I talked to the navigator before I came out here. We’re close enough that they should be able to make their airfields in China.”

  “I hope arriving at first light will catch the Japs with their pants around their ankles,” Fletcher said. “We need some good news in this war.”

  “Admiral, I am honestly starting to believe this cock-eyed mission might actually succeed.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith,” Fletcher intoned. “This should make the Japs lose face, which is good. If we manage to do some damage to them, it’s even better.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for, Sir.”

  They stood for a few minutes studying the dark ocean and the deeper shadows of the blacked-out ships in the small task group.

  “Very well, Captain,” Fletcher said formally, “I think we can stay with our schedule. Please pass the word that we will commence flight operations at 0400.”

  “Aye, aye, Admiral,” Lloyd said, bracing to attention. He walked quickly out of the cold wind into the bridge to issue the orders.

  “And God be with those men,” Fletcher spoke to the Pacific winds.

  § § §

  December 31, 1942; 6:30 AM

  Prime Minister’s Residence

  Tokyo, Japan

  The sound of numerous aircraft intruded as Prime Minister Hideki Tojo squatted over his morning toilet. He resented the interruption as he read the morning paper, his trousers around his ankles. He wondered what fool had ordered the aircraft to fly over the city this early in the morning. He feared it would disturb the emperor. The sound of the exploding incendiary bombs confused him. People were shouting in his home, and he wondered what was happening.

  As Tojo struggled to pull up his pants, he, of course, never saw the bomb that tumbled through the roof of his home and into his private room, where it exploded, killing him instantly. The resulting fire destroyed the residence, and the raid burned several square miles of Tokyo. One of the B-25’s had a chance encounter with a Japanese fighter. The bomber tumbled into the Sea of Japan, killing the crew. The fifteen remaining planes landed without incident in Chunking where the crews were welcomed by General Claire Chennault.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  January 4, 1943; 9 AM

  Reich Chancellor’s Office

  Reich Chancellery

  Berlin, Germany

  Heinrich Schloss leaned back in his chair and relaxed. He was sipping his first cup of coffee of the morning and nibbled from a plate of pastries. This was the first week of the new year and he had survived the interminable round of parties, receptions, and dinners required of the Reich Chancellor. This was the second new year where he was the undisputed master of Germany. The previous year the populace had hardly dared breath out of fear of what would happen next.

  This year there was no longer a war. The stores had a broader selection of g
oods. And the churches had been full over the Christmas holiday. The Nazis believed they had created a secular state, but Schloss concluded the people had other ideas. He was bemused by it all. He had been able to foster a climate of peace in the land. The people had imbibed of that to advance their businesses and their lives. This gave him a lot of hope for Germany

  He fidgeted with his pencil as he considered the year ahead. It looked like the peace with England would stick. Germany’s relationship with the Americans was growing stronger. Italy, like Germany, was now under the control of a pragmatic ruler, who worked to restore commerce with the rest of the world. And Judaea was an independent nation. A fiercely independent nation. The Jews were working like ants to gather their resources and build something new in the Middle East.

  The area of concern and it concerned him greatly, was Russia. By canceling Barbarossa, Schloss had prevented a war that Germany would eventually lose. This also gave him the maneuvering room to avoid war with America, and to force England to the conference table. The governing troika had fervently hoped that there would be no war with Russia. It appeared, that Stalin was convinced the only way to rescue world socialism from economic collapse was a war that would inspire the patriotic emotions of the Russian people.

  As he sat in his chair, he felt every one of those previous three-hundred-sixty-five days. What he was doing was enjoyable, satisfying and making a difference in this strange land. But he felt bone-weary and grudged the effort to rise from his bed each morning. His friends repeatedly warned him that he looked exhausted, and he supposed they were right. But, it just never seemed the time to get away for some rest.

  Schloss’s first meeting of the day drove home the need for preparation. Goering and Guderian walked into his office on schedule. Willem Kirche followed with the coffee service and set it on the table between the two visitors. He had carefully placed two Danish on the plate between the coffee cups. He had carefully planned it so that Goering would only have a single pastry. Schloss had directed Kirche to so arrange things.