Inconsequential Nazi

by Ward Wagher

  “Oh, very well.” He leaned back in his chair looking disgusted. Schloss also noted that he looked very tired.

  “I would like to schedule another meeting to talk about our war plans,” Schloss spoke, changing the subject. “Today, I mainly wanted to talk about our logistics issues, if that is all right with everyone.”

  “Of course,” Guderian said.

  Gehlen nodded, and Goering continued to look disgusted.

  “I need to get some sense of how well prepared we are to get military supplies to the front. Have we arranged for the necessary use of the railroads?”

  “Oh yes,” Goering said quickly. “We have all of the logistics commands working together. We have two railroads running into Warsaw, each with eight tracks. I went ahead and had them completed after you canceled Barbarossa because they were almost finished anyway.”

  Schloss was surprised. “I didn’t know that. That showed some initiative, Hermann.”

  “Oh, it was nothing,” the big man shrugged. “I just could not see that going to waste. And it appears we are going to need it.”

  And now I am going to have to drop the hammer right after I complimented him.

  “And how well did the coordination between the logistics units work in France?” he asked.

  Goering turned red. “Herr Reich Chancellor, we fixed all that.”

  “How did we fix it?”

  “I personally spoke to the generals running the logistics outfits. They assured me that things would be different this time.”

  Schloss drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk. “They assured you? Are you willing to bet your life on this, Hermann? Because if we have the mess that we had in France, that is exactly what you would be doing.”

  Goering shook his head, his jowls shaking. “I can promise you, Herr Reich Chancellor, that it will work well this time.”

  “How have they changed their procedures?”

  “It is not a matter of procedures,” Goering stated. “It is a matter of communications.”

  “Refresh my memory,” Schloss said. “Who currently runs the Ministry of Transport?”

  “That would be Julius Dorpmuller,” Gehlen said.

  “And does he manage the civilian railways well?”

  “Between the RVM and the Reichsbahn, they do a good job.”

  “So, how about if we just put them in charge of it?”

  “Herr Reich Chancellor,” Goering shouted. “They do not know anything about military logistics.”

  “Do they know how to run a railroad?” Schloss asked softly.

  “Well, yes.”

  Schloss looked back and forth between the three men. I hate just stepping in and making decisions like this. But, fat Hermann is getting ready to lose everything for me.

  “Very well. Let’s do this. Herr Goering, I want you to arrange for the Ministry of Transport and the Reichsbahn to manage the railroads out to the Polish frontier. Make it clear to the Wehrmacht logistics people that while they may decide what gets shipped in which order, they will let the railroad people decide how to get it done.”

  “They will not like that, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  Schloss felt the anger boiling up in him. I will not lose my temper at this swine with these other two men here. He sat and stared at the Reichsmarshall for a long time. Goering finally lowered his eyes.

  “Very well, Herr Reich Chancellor. I will see that it gets done.”

  “Thank you, Hermann. I knew I could count on you. Now, meine Herren, let’s look at where the rail lines run and try to spot any potential problems. When the balloon goes up, we are not going to have time to sit around and discuss this.”

  The four men spent the next hour reviewing railroad lines and capacities. Because of Hitler’s insane plan to invade Russia, the transportation networks into Poland were actually excellent. It looked as though Germany would be able to move large volumes of war material to the front and do so quickly. Now if he could just think of a way to pour sand in Stalin’s gears he could buy the country some time.

  The reports of the new tank developed by the Russians worried him. In his old world, the T34 had come as a nasty shock to the Germans. It was better than anything in the Wehrmacht and the Russians rapidly became proficient in using it. He had subtly pushed Guderian to advance the development of the Panther, which was just coming into service. In his world, this was probably Germany’s best tank of the war. Guderian had originally pushed the development of the Panzer IV and was partial to it. The IV was a good tank and was the most widely produced in Schloss’s world. But it was vulnerable to the newer designs.

  In the year previous, Schloss and Goering had decided to limit production of the Tiger Tank in order to further refine the design. Schloss hoped that he had not made a huge mistake there. Only 100 or so Tigers were in inventory at that moment, and they would be badly needed if there was a war with Russia. When relations with the Russians deteriorated, Goering had quietly increased production of the Tiger. And Schloss had recently ordered him to go to full production. They would just have to deal with the shortcomings of the tank.

  Schloss looked at the small brass clock on his desk and back at his guests. “The Reichsprotecktor is waiting to have a meeting with me, meine Herren. It would not do for me to keep him waiting.”

  The three men chuckled uncomfortably as they stood. They weren’t quite sure if he was joking or not. Schloss often wondered why everyone was terrified of Rainer. The Reichsprotektor was an honest and honorable man. But he seemed to intimidate most of the people he met.

  “Herr Reich Chancellor,” Goering said as they moved towards the door. “I hope I did not upset anyone with the discussion today.”

  “No,” Schloss said. “These discussions are good to have. If you are not passionate about your opinion, what is that opinion worth?”

  “Of course. Of course. That is exactly right. Thank you for your time, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  Schloss watched as they filed out, and then walked quickly over the door to his private toilet. It had been a long meeting, and he had drunk a lot of coffee.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  April 3, 1943; 10 AM

  The Oval Office

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  President Harry Truman looked around the Oval Office at the men he had summoned earlier that day. There was an air of tension in the room, and he wondered at that. He assumed they would be relieved to bring a problem and dump it on his desk. And this problem did belong on his desk.

  “Let me get this straight,” he began. “Most of the Japanese fleet stationed at Pearl Harbor put to sea, presumably to interdict the Indian ocean task force. Are we agreed on that?”

  “We have the report from a single sub skipper,” Nimitz replied. “He spotted the task force leaving Pearl and gave us a rough count. That agrees with what we thought the Japs had there. But as intelligence reports go, it’s a little thin.”

  “No independent confirmation, then?” the president asked.

  “No, Sir. This is where the distances really work against us. I would love to have patrol planes out there but nothing we have in inventory has the range. However, Commander Carper has a good rep. If he says a task force of that size put to sea, I think we can take it to the bank.”

  “Not to teach my grandmother to suck eggs, general, but I assume someone has warned the Indian ocean task force.”

  General Marshall laughed. “Yes, Mister President. I can assure you we have sent the necessary warnings. I think Admiral Forbes and Admiral King will shortly have their hands full. Unfortunately. We helped the Brits put a big task force in the Indian Ocean and I think the Japs have to honor the threat.”

  “Could they have been going out just for a fleet exercise?” Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox asked.

  “Oh absolutely,” Nimitz answered. “That is one of our concerns.”

  Truman tapped a finger on his desk. “The question, as I understand it, is the strategic que
stion of whether we should abandon the attack we planned on the Japanese home islands to take advantage of this opportunity. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, Mister President. When we received the message from Commander Carper, we immediately had a debate within the intelligence section in San Diego. My personal belief is that there is a large strategic advantage in attacking the home islands. But we must balance that against the opportunity to rescue our citizens in Hawaii.”

  “Do we have the forces to retake Hawaii?” Truman asked.

  “The first Marine Division is at Camp Lejeune,” Nimitz noted. “We have the sealift for them as well. We can have everything moving in 30 days or less.”

  “Is a single Marine division enough to take the islands?” General Marshall asked.

  “We can get them ashore and establish a perimeter,” Nimitz said confidently. “We would need the Army to reinforce them as soon as possible, though.”

  “In other words,” the president interjected, “there is a risk they could be pushed off the island.”

  “Yes, Mister President. That is always a risk. With six carrier decks, though, I think we could provide effective air cover as well as protect the fleet until we can get the Marines reinforced. It would be critical to get land-based aviation operational as soon as possible.”

  “How long would it take to get the army off the dime?”

  “Sixty days, more or less,” Marshall supplied. “I have already initiated the order to move four divisions to the west coast. I am mobilizing a tank regiment from Fort Knox.”

  “And the strategic question, Admiral?”

  “Perhaps you will allow me to answer the question, Mister President,” General Marshall continued. “By attacking the Japanese home islands, we force them to further pullback from Hawaii and South Asia. It takes advantage of the composition of our forces. To be honest, we are still rather limited.”

  “Attacking Hawaii would be a frontal attack, and we would be likely going toe to toe with their best. I think we can win, and get the islands back, but it would likely extend the length of the war somewhat. And that is the quandary.”

  Truman spun his chair around and gazed out the windows onto the White House grounds. When he became an accidental President, he knew that he would make some tough decisions. Balancing the lives of a quarter million American citizens against a shorter war was excruciating. But he was confident he knew the right thing to do.

  He spun his chair back around. “Admiral Nimitz, what is your level of confidence we can retake the Hawaiian Islands?”

  “I am as confident as anything during a time of war,” the Admiral replied. “It will be a very difficult operation, but our people are up to it and they are motivated.”

  “I would think rescuing American citizens would be a motivating factor,” Frank Knox said dryly.

  Truman thought for a few moments more and then spoke. “Very well, gentlemen. My directive is that you get a force together as quickly as humanly possible and sail for Hawaii. You will also have someone watching at all times for the return of their fleet. And if they do return, we will cancel the operation. Does anyone have any questions?”

  “No, Mister President,” Nimitz replied, “you have made your wishes very clear.”

  “And General Marshall, get the army moving quicker. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  “Yes, Sir, Mr. President.”

  Truman stood up. “Thank you, gentlemen, for bringing this to my attention. I want a daily report on the status of this operation if you please.”

  “Of course, Mister President,” General Marshall said. “I can assure you we will all pay close attention to this one.”

  Nimitz stepped over to Marshall as they left the Oval Office. “General, might I catch a ride with you to the Pentagon? I need to get a radio message to my people to get this thing moving.”

  “Of course, Admiral. Perhaps we could meet for dinner to discuss things in more detail.”

  “If I might be excused, General, I need to get out to Anacostia and get on my airplane. I’ve been away from there for 24 hours, and I need to get back.”

  “You’re going to need to get a night’s sleep,” Marshall suggested.

  “I can sleep on the plane.”

  “I understand, Admiral. I appreciate your attention to detail.”

  § § §

  April 4, 1943; 9 AM

  Chartwell

  Westerham, Kent

  United Kingdom

  Winston Churchill looked at the thin, dark-haired man standing in his study. This was a surprise visit; he had called from the train station. Churchill did not particularly like Kim Philby and wasn’t sure why. He learned, though, to trust his gut feelings on such matters.

  “What do you have for me this morning, Mister Philby?” Churchill asked coldly.

  “Stewart Menzies just sacked everyone in section V and also section XX yesterday. This was at the instruction of the Prime Minister, and we think the Queen.”

  Churchill quickly stood up. “Everyone?” he asked, his face turning pale.

  “Even the office staff. It was a complete housecleaning. I thought I should let you know, Sir.”

  As Philby watched, Churchill suddenly looked much older. He stood unsteadily for a moment then turned around to search for his chair. He toppled into the chair much as a very old man would.

  “I cannot believe her Majesty would be so ruthless,” Churchill began. “A lot of good people served country there. Was there any reason given? And, sit down please, Mister Philby. You obviously spent the night on the train.”

  Philby was slightly unsteady as he moved over and eased carefully into the chair across from Churchill’s desk. His deep unhappiness was apparent. He had been convinced that the most productive time of his life had been spent with Six. He wasn’t quite sure what he would do next.

  “I did not hear directly, Sir, however, there were rumors that we had sent a provocateur into Germany to stir up labor unrest. That is what set the Queen off. This was complete nonsense, of course.”

  “Of course,” Churchill said. “And, how do you take your whiskey?”

  “Neat.”

  Churchill struggled to his feet again and walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured a measure of Scotch whiskey into a squat cut glass tumbler. He walked back across the room and handed the golden liquid to Philby. Philby took a large gulp and shuddered as the whiskey burned its way down. Churchill fixed himself a glass and this time he did not dilute it with water.

  “That is very good, Sir,” he rasped. “Thank you.”

  “Now,” Churchill said, returning to his chair. “Pray tell me everything you know.”

  Over the following ten minutes, Philby listed the details of the firings. His journalistic experience kicked in, and his report was concise and complete. It was clear that Attlee had swept the broom widely. Menzies was going to be challenged to rebuild his intelligence apparatus.

  “Was any thought given to the damage this would do to the kingdom’s intelligence capabilities?”

  “I overheard Menzies himself say that he was thankful there was not a war on the continent, right now. But it was clear he was not happy about things.”

  “Perhaps I should speak with him,” Churchill commented. “This is a shocking development.”

  “I believe I can find work with one of the periodicals,” Philby said. “But I think it will be difficult for many of them. Jobs are hard to come by.”

  “Precisely,” Churchill said. “I am surprised this is not in the papers as yet.”

  “Sir Stewart warned everyone that speaking about this would violate the Official Secrets Act. I don’t believe he could enforce something like that, however, no one seems tempted to test the premise.”

  Churchill snorted as he trimmed his first cigar of the day and prepared to light it. “I don’t believe I would be tempted to test the premise either. Some of the Lord judges get remarkably crabby about that law.”

  The British Official
Secrets Act had been originally passed in 1911 during a time of widespread fear of German espionage. It forbade the discussion of any government business deemed secret by the Prime Minister. On several occasions people had been sentenced to decades in prison for infractions of this law, so few people were tempted to take liberties with it.

  “You will excuse me, Sir, if I’m reticent to talk about the subject anywhere outside of this room. You still have your security authorization. I checked.”

  Churchill was surprised. “Is that so? I did not realize that.”

  “Technically then,” Philby continued, “people can safely divulge information to you. That gives us a fig leaf.”

  “A very useful fig leaf,” Churchill muttered with a crooked grin. “And, I am afraid our beloved Queen is rather threadbare, herself. I wonder what set her off?”

  “Honestly, Sir? The people in the two foreign sections were reticent with the investigators about the Lisbon affair. I believe whoever went over to Germany was the match that lit the fire. But she was already upset with us.”

  “Our beloved Queen can be rash at times. This does not help the kingdom at all.”

  “Do you have any recommendations for me, Sir?” Philby asked.

  “I believe you should get back to London and see if you can pick up work. Keep your ear to the ground, Kim. Anything you happen to hear may be useful. I would appreciate you relating it to me.”

  “I understand, Sir.”

  “And, Mister Philby?”

  Philby looked at the former Prime Minister. “Yes, Sir?”

  “I think it likely the Queen has surveillance placed on key people from Six. Please do not make further trips out here without checking first.”

  Philby turned pale. “I had not considered that. I shall be very careful.”

  “Very well, then. Thank you for coming out this morning,” Churchill said, dismissing him.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  April 7, 1943; 9 AM

  The Kremlin