Robert Conroy - Germanica

Hill laughed. “Add me to that list, sir.”

“When somebody opens fire on them, the men are very likely to go to ground and call for artillery support rather than moving forward under fire. Maybe that’s one thing that bothers Evans about what happened to your platoon. Your lieutenant made a foolish mistake and paid for it. But he was showing initiative. He was out looking for bear. Somebody once told me that, after a while, all the heroes in any army are all dead or wounded. What’s left are the survivors who do a good job of keeping their heads down.”

Tanner realized they shouldn’t be sightseeing and shouldn’t be talking like this about their general, but what the hell. “I think Evans is afraid of failure and that any failure will result in a lot of deaths. That’s why he wants us to provide him with an extra level of security and intelligence. Maybe thinks both of us are survivors and therefore know something about war that other people don’t.”

Hill laughed softly and bitterly. “I didn’t think I was so smart while I was lying in the snow and mud and trying not to get my ass shot off while my men got killed.”

“Understood, Sergeant. And I wasn’t doing anything special while I was running through the cold and snowy shit that was Belgium.”

* * *

Major Alfonse Hahn stepped smartly to within a few feet of Field Marshal Ferdinand Schoerner and halted. “Heil Hitler, Field Marshal, and congratulations on your promotion. It is long overdue and well deserved.”

Schoerner returned the salute and laughed. “And you’re kissing my ass again, Major, but I appreciate it.”

Schoerner waved Hahn to a chair. “According to reports, my old friend, you have been a very bad boy. Just how many American soldiers did you have executed?”

Hahn rubbed the star-shaped red birthmark on his cheek. “Just a handful of American prisoners that I deemed useless and, of course, a larger number of German deserters who deserved death for their actions. But why do you ask?”

An aide brought brandies. Before the war, the two men had become close during Schoerner’s time spent turning the SS into a real military fighting unit. Hahn had been a very young officer whose ruthless methods had impressed Schoerner. He thought it a shame that Hahn hadn’t been promoted to a much higher rank. Perhaps he would be in a position to correct that injustice.

“A very good source has told me that the Americans have put you on a long list of so-called war criminals they plan to prosecute after the war, assuming, of course that they win it and that you are still either alive or haven’t fled to someplace like Argentina. Apparently someone witnessed you executing two wounded soldiers in the Ardennes. I’m sure you remember the incident.”

“Of course, Field Marshal. One man was unconscious and doubtless dying, while the second had serious leg injuries along with a big mouth. He kept saying that we were going to lose and that Hitler was going to hang. Even if I had wished to, I could not have taken them with me, so I shot them. I was leaving the Ardennes to report our great victory to our mutual friend, Herr Goebbels. It was just a shame that our victory turned so sour so quickly.”

Schoerner nodded agreement. Like many senior officers, he’d had doubts about the Ardennes offensive, feeling it was a desperate move. “But now we have an opportunity to turn it all around, which we shall do. Perhaps then we will not be forced to hide in caves.”

Both men laughed. Albert Speer and hordes of his capable assistants along with thousands of laborers, mainly slaves, had performed miracles. Hundreds of large caves now dotted the hills and mountains, including the immense command cave they were now in. It was located a few miles outside the Austrian city of Bregenz, on Lake Constance and close to the Swiss border. Several hundred people worked in the cave and other caves were being constructed. Much of the brute labor came from a small concentration camp in the area, while other workers had been shipped in from the much larger camp at Dachau.

Schoerner continued. “Right now it almost goes without saying that the war has become a disaster. It is going to be up to us to salvage what we can and lead a renaissance of the Nazi Party and, of course, of Germany. The Fuhrer has said that Germany is not worthy of him and he is largely correct. Perhaps the time was not ripe for something as dramatic and wonderful as a world run by Nazis. Someday soon it will be and we will be at the forefront along with Herr Goebbels.”

Hahn swelled with pride. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. How many men did you manage to bring with you?”

“With regrets, only a couple dozen. However, they are loyal men who would be willing to die for the Reich.”

Schoerner smiled warmly. “Let’s hope they don’t have to. I know you’re curious as to what your duties will be here in this new capital of Germany. They will be quite simple. You and your men, augmented by other new arrivals of course, will make it your life’s purpose to find and stamp out traitors and Jews. You may use any means at your disposal.”

Hahn was puzzled. “Isn’t that the job of the Gestapo?”

“It would be except for the fact that the Gestapo’s presence down here is less than minimal. You are a devoted SS man, which is the next best thing. In fact, it is better since you are also a soldier and this is going to be a totally military operation and will be until some later time. You will report to me until Minister Goebbels arrives. If Bormann makes it here as well, then he will be in charge.”

“Between the two of us, Field Marshal, who will rule Germany if the Fuhrer does die in Berlin?”

Schoerner pondered the question. There were a number of claimants for a throne that wasn’t yet vacant. Goering was an obese joke, but Himmler was a serious contender as were Bormann and Goebbels. Both Schoerner and Hahn hoped it would be Goebbels. Then too, there was a rumor that Admiral Doenitz was Hitler’s designated heir. It was hoped that there would not be a number of pretenders whose infighting could jeopardize the continued existence of the Reich.

Schoerner poured them some more brandy. “To answer your question, Major, the new ruler of Germany will be the survivor.”

* * *

The dying German plane shrieked across the sky. Flames spewed from its tail and it looked like the pilot was trying to find a place to land. It was also unlike any other plane Lena or the Schneiders had ever seen or heard.

“He isn’t going to make it,” muttered Gustav Schneider. His wife and children said nothing. As usual Lena hung back. They were outside the house and near a field that abutted the Schneiders’ property. They’d been tending the vegetable garden that now provided them with much of their food. The plane slammed into the ground with a loud crack, bounced once in the air and settled on the earth. An instant later, the onboard fuel exploded. Even though it was hundreds of yards away, they felt the warmth from the flames flow over them.

Lena could also smell the contents of the plane burning and wondered if any of the smell was the pilot. Part of her said it was good that the Nazi had died, while another felt it was terrible that another young man’s life had to end so violently.

Anton yelled and pointed. “Papa, is that the pilot?”

It was. The pilot had been thrown clear and had landed facedown in the field. He hadn’t been burned, but he was still very dead. Behind them they could hear the wail of sirens growing nearer. They walked to the body with Gustav taking the lead and Lena again in the rear. If they noticed her, she was afraid they’d send her back to the house.

Herr Schneider waved his arms angrily. “Look at this. It’s another one of Hitler’s super-weapons. How super can it be if the damned thing gets shot down?”