Robert Conroy - Germanica

He was taken to the Oval Office and given some more coffee. It was fascinating to see a national capital that hadn’t been bombed and devastated. Even during his brief stay in England, he had seen where bombs and rockets had struck.

He was ushered into the president’s office. Truman was seated behind a large wooden desk. He was introduced to General Marshall and General Groves. He knew who Marshall was but only knew of Groves as the man who had built the Pentagon.

“Tell us about Abraham Esau,” Truman said.

Heisenberg blinked. He hadn’t expected that question. “Dr. Esau is an excellent physicist, one of Germany’s leading scientists.”

“Is he as good as you?” asked Groves.

“No. He is a good man, but definitely second tier.”

Truman leaned forward. “Could he and a small team located in the Alps build an atomic bomb?”

Heisenberg smiled broadly. So this is what this is all about. “Doctor Esau couldn’t build a bomb if he had all the resources in the world and all the time in the world.”

* * *

Heisenberg was brought up to speed. He was told about the German threat to use a bomb and that Truman was thinking about halting the attack on Bregenz because of the fear of what a bomb might do to massed American forces.

There was more coffee and some sandwiches. “Gentlemen,” Heisenberg continued, “there was never a threat of a German atomic bomb. I had already seen to that.”

Truman was astonished. “What do you mean?”

“Because I could not abide the thought of a monster like Hitler getting his filthy paws on a weapon like the atomic bomb. There were several competing programs, but mine was the major one. I saw to it that we were constantly going off in the wrong direction. Along with not having enough Uranium, all I had to work with were second and third-rate talents. The Nazis considered physics to be Jewish science and chased the good ones away. I assume that they are working for you.”

“That’s a safe assumption,” said Groves as he reached for another sandwich. “But does Goebbels know that?”

Heisenberg shrugged. “He was the Minister of Propaganda. He might be lying or he might be being lied to. Who knows? Now, may I politely ask what will happen to this information and to me?”

Truman smiled coldly and Heisenberg could see how people could underestimate the short man with the wire-rimmed glasses. “As to your motives, I don’t give a damn. For all I care you are lying through your teeth about intentionally derailing the bomb research and really wanted it to succeed because you were a good Nazi until the end and decided it was time to save your ass. In the meantime, you will remain in our custody. You will be kept comfortable and secure. And, if by chance, the German bomb does work, I will personally blow your goddamned brains out. If their bomb is either a dud or a fraud, you will be rewarded. In the meantime, the attack on Bregenz will go on as scheduled, and God help us all.”

Heisenberg was led away. He would be sent to the Marine Barracks in Washington and held in confinement. He was confident that he would be vindicated. But then he felt a chill. What if, just if , Esau and his people had indeed managed to utilize existing research to develop something that could cause great harm to the United States Army? It didn’t have to be a full-fledged atomic bomb. Something close would do just as well.

* * *

Josef Goebbels was frightened but safe. His shelter was in the bowels of a hill overlooking Bregenz. Even so, the room shook and he looked at the walls and roof to see if they would stand up to the pressure of Allied bombs.

No senior members of his government were with him. They were all in other shelters, fled to Switzerland, or dead. More explosions and the mountain seemed to rise up from the ground.

He fingered the little box in his pants pocket. Was it time? If he wanted to die, he would have to take the cyanide at the earliest possible moment. He hadn’t thought of it, but he now thought it possible that he could be injured in a bombing attack and unable to reach the capsules. The rain of bombs was beginning to taper off. He would live through this day. Still, he had to be better prepared. He smelled smoke but nothing to indicate a major fire.

The door to the shelter was cracked open. “Minister!” yelled an officer from outside.

“Over here,” Goebbels said and managed to stand with great difficulty. He was shaking, but why? He’d endured far worse while in Berlin. It was because he now realized that any feelings of safety he’d had were an illusion, a pipe dream.

The steel door to the cave was open and his officers were tentatively stepping outside. The sky was clear and there were no fresh contrails in the sky. Much of Bregenz was in ruins. Dark smoke was heavy and firefighters were at work. There would be little shortage of water since the city was close to the lake. Dead and wounded were being pulled from the rubble, proof that not everyone had taken the threat of bombing seriously. Goebbels wondered if this would stiffen the spines of those left to fight for Hitler’s vision. Sadly, he doubted it. Instead, there would be an exodus to the Swiss border.

Field Marshal Schoerner stood watching the activity. He did nothing and Goebbels didn’t either. The people in charge of handling disasters such as this were doing an excellent job. They did not need anyone yelling encouragement at them.

Schoerner smiled. “Minister, did you hear the good news?”

“What good news could there be? The Americans bombed us. There is no longer any sanctuary.”

“The Americans made a huge mistake. For some reason, they bombed Arbon as well.”

Goebbels perked up, suddenly elated. If the Swiss were angry enough at the assault on their territory, would they be willing to ally themselves with the Reich? The addition of the Swiss Army to Germany’s defenses would cause the Americans to think about the blood price that must be paid. Perhaps this day wasn’t such a miserable one after all.

And he still had an atomic bomb to fire at the Americans. Was it time to launch? No, he told himself. Not just yet.

* * *

Why am I tied up? he thought. He wanted to strain at the bonds that restricted his movement, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. His brain wouldn’t function. His thoughts were coming out mushy and incoherent.

And he couldn’t see. Am I blind? He twisted as much as he could but nothing seemed to be working. He was able to blink and felt something over his eyes. What had happened? The last thing Ernie recalled was being in a shelter and something exploding. He thought he recalled a man scolding him before the man disappeared.

Oh God. Had Winnie been with him? He couldn’t recall. Was she okay? He had to find out. He tried to move again and thought there was some feeling in his right leg but nothing in his left. He took a deep breath. Okay, I’m alive. He tried to say something but only a squawk came out and he wasn’t certain he’d made any sound anyhow.

Something grazed his right hand. “Ernie? Can you hear me?” It was Winnie’s voice, and he exulted. She was alive and clearly in better shape than he was. “If you’re conscious, just nod.”

It took willpower but he did. “Wonderful,” Winnie said. “Now I’m going to put a straw in your mouth so you can get some water in you.”

A few moments later he was sucking on a straw and drinking cold, clear water. A few more moments and he tried to talk. It came out as a croak so he drank some more water. Better.

“Where am I?” he whispered.

“In a hospital in Arbon, and don’t try to talk too darn much. Since you can hear me, just listen. You were found in the rubble of that bomb shelter. You were very lucky. Several people were killed.”