Robert Conroy - Germanica

So why then did his hands shake when he held the box? Goebbels took a deep breath. His hands shook, he decided, because he was as afraid of death as anyone. The Nazi empire that had once stretched from the Pyrenees almost to the Urals was now reduced to a few hundred square miles of desolate and useless mountains. The larger portion of the army was still fronting the Americans near Innsbruck, while a decent force remained to defend Bregenz. The generals were confident that the Americans would have to come down the narrow valleys that led from Innsbruck to the small town that was the current capital of Germany. He did not share their confidence, but he deferred to their knowledge.

Field Marshal Schoerner knocked and entered. Goebbels tried to hide the pill box but wasn’t fast enough. “I will not take cyanide,” Schoerner announced. “If and when the time comes, I will do everything in my power to die in battle.”

Goebbels gasped. Had Schoerner just insulted him? “Are you implying that I’m less of a man for considering poison?”

“Of course not, Minister. I merely state the obvious, that we come from different backgrounds. If I cannot get killed, I will try to shoot myself. If that doesn’t work, one of my aides will finish the task.”

“Will your aide get a promotion for the job?”

“Quite likely,” Schoerner said. He flushed when he belatedly realized that Goebbels had been sarcastic.

“Do you have any good news at all?”

“None whatsoever. Our time may be counted in days, or at best, weeks. We are almost out of food and ammunition and the Americans now control the lake. This means that they might try to attack from it.”

“The Swiss will not permit that.”

“Minister, the Swiss will not have a choice. From what intelligence we’ve been able to gather it looks like the Americans scent blood and wish to come in for the kill. When that happens, the Swiss will stand aside. Further, the number of desertions is increasing. Only about half the men we brought into the Redoubt remain with us. Yesterday, some enterprising soldiers overwhelmed their officers, stole a small boat, and sailed off towards an American patrol craft. They were welcomed with open arms.”

Goebbels laughed harshly. “Do you think they would welcome us with open arms?” Yes, he thought. Open arms-and a noose.

“Minister,” Schoerner said softly, “I think it is time to complete plans for using the bomb.”

* * *

Any plans for the bomb were limited by the capacity and range of the two V1 rockets they’d brought to Bregenz. The rockets had a range of two hundred miles and carried a one-ton warhead. They were also horribly inaccurate at long range. They had chosen the V1s over the V2s because they were much easier to move and launch.

Some thought had been given to arming the rockets with poison gas, but it was quickly decided that a ton of gas would not accomplish much except to anger the Americans and perhaps cause them to retaliate. With a two-hundred-mile range, it meant that major targets, such as Paris, London, or Rome were impossible reaches. They could only hit cities in Switzerland or northern Italy or, of course, Germany, which would be pointless.

Therefore, any target would have to be closer, much closer. The scientists had toyed with the idea of enlarging the warhead to house a greater atom bomb by reducing the fuel that would be unnecessary if the target was close. They had quickly come to the conclusion that reengineering the rocket would take more time than they had. Thus, they were stuck with a short-range rocket with a one-ton atomic warhead. Doctor Esau had been of the opinion that the American atomic bombs had weighed at least five tons. Thus again, they had a small nuclear device. It had to work and they had to convince the Yanks that they had more than one. The second rocket was for show only and some other dummy rockets were being constructed out of wood.

Schoerner smiled. “What do the Americans fear more than anything else, Minister?”

Goebbels returned the smile. “Why, casualties, of course. The American soldier is a coward and his leaders are politicians who are afraid to lose soldiers in battle. If our one bomb can decimate a large American force and if we can convince them that we have more of them, they will negotiate.”

“But the bomb has to work,” said Schoerner. “And Doctor Esau and his people have pledged their lives that it will.”

* * *

Generals Truscott and Devers watched as elements of the two-division assault force gathered itself. Devers was uncomfortable with his position. Even though he was the ranking officer, he had the uneasy feeling that Truscott was in charge and that Truscott would complain to Ike if he didn’t like what was going on. That would be like being taken to the woodshed, a humiliation that he could not tolerate. His pride would force him to resign.

Of course, he had to admit that the gravelly voiced Texan had done a magnificent job and had given Devers little to worry about.

The Rhine was clear, both of debris and enemy forces, all the way down to Lake Constance. That it meandered all over the place as it approached the Alps was irrelevant. It meant that small armed craft could sail its length and emerge in the lake. It also meant that many scores of landing craft could do the same thing and these were congregating along the shore at Oberlingen. When the army moved south to Lindau, the landing craft would follow. The army would board them and launch an attack from the lake. The Swiss would be even more furious than they already were, but nobody gave a damn about the feelings of the Swiss. Getting the landing craft and other support vessels to Oberlingen meant riding the Rhine along its length and in some cases cruising through small chunks of Swiss territory. There had been no incidents, but the American high command was confident that German sympathizers had relayed precise information about the American movements to the Nazis in Bregenz.

“How soon?” Devers asked, resenting that he didn’t know all the information.

“A couple of days at the most. A lot depends on the winds.”

Yes, Devers thought sorrowfully, the winds. Was the United States really about to commit an atrocity on the scale of what the Nazis had done?

* * *

Tanner and Cullen watched the generals have their meeting on a hill. Many others watched as well. It wasn’t every day that high-ranking officers displayed themselves as Devers and Truscott were now doing.

“What do you think?” asked Tanner.

“This means war,” he said solemnly. “Oh yes, I forgot. We’re already at war. This means that we’re going to go into battle very soon and that’s not a surprise either.”

“I hope this is the final one.”

He and Lena had managed a couple of minutes together that morning. Each was terrified that the next battle would be someone’s last one. While Tanner was in the greater danger, the incident in which General Evans had been killed and Lena shot at had showed them that danger was imminent and everywhere. Their embraces had been intense, as each knew that it could be the last for a long time, perhaps forever. Tanner was somewhat comforted by the fact that she was well behind the lines. But would that matter if long-range artillery came into play, or if someone made a tragic mistake, or, God forbid, the rumors about the gas masks were true.

Ernie hugged Winnie. “I love you; now get the hell out of here.”

She smiled and patted him on the cheek. “I love you too, especially when you talk so romantically. But you know I can’t go too far. I have a job to do, too. I don’t like it that Arbon is so close to the German border either, but I volunteered for this job just like you did.”