Germanica (33 page)

* * *

Winnie sat on a folding chair she’d brought so she could watch the front of the Goebbels compound. With rumors that the war would encompass the area around Arbon, people were moving out and she’d picked up the chair for pennies. Once more, Magda and the children were moving, this time for the greater security of Zurich. After that it was rumored that the group would somehow get to Portugal where they would take a ship to Brazil. Their ultimate destination was presumed to be Argentina. Both she and Ernie had wondered just how many Nazis and former Nazis, their families and their sympathizers Argentina could handle before exploding.

She decided she didn’t care. What she wanted now was for all the Nazis in Arbon to disappear, and if the earth swallowed them up she didn’t care if that happened either. She saw Helga walking towards her with a very uncomfortable guard behind her.

“We’re leaving again,” a grim-faced Helga said. “And once again it’s all your fault. My father says you are going to bomb everything so we have to leave to be safe. Why do you have to do that?”

“Maybe it’ll end the war.”

“Why don’t you leave us in peace?”

Winnie decided to be blunt. “I would be happy to leave you and your brothers and sisters in peace, but not your parents. They have to answer for the crimes they’ve committed, especially your father.”

Helga’s eyes glistened. “But he’s done nothing except try to help and protect Germany and the German people from the Jews and other enemies.”

Winnie decided it was pointless to argue. “I think we have to let other people decide that. I do hope you find safety and peace,” she said, surprising herself by meaning it.

Helga smiled winsomely. “I hope the same for you and the man who’s watching us. Too bad you’re not lovers yet. You are a very nice lady, even if you are an American. Oh, you’re not Jewish are you?”

“Would it matter if I was?”

Helga thought for a moment. “No, I don’t suppose it would, at least not under the current circumstances.” She surprised Winnie by leaning over and giving her a hug. “Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“May I take your picture?” Winnie asked. Helga thought for a moment, smiled and nodded yes. Winnie took her camera, a very expensive Leica she’d bought in Zurich with her father’s money when she’d arrived in Switzerland. She even had color film in it. Helga smiled again and posed herself. It dawned on Winnie that the girl must have had many pictures taken of her. She took a couple and the guard sullenly took one of the two of them. Helga laughed and ran off.
 

Good luck, Winnie thought. What will your life bring? she wondered. Would you be able to live with the knowledge that your parents—your father in particular—was a war criminal. If he was executed for his crimes, could you handle that? Would you have a good life or would you become embittered? She found herself hoping that the child would grow up to be a human being.

* * *

A short while later, a column of trucks and busses departed Arbon. They would travel by road to Bern and then by train to Marseilles. From there they would take a ship to South America.

Dulles entered the compound accompanied by a handful of Swiss police and soldiers. After a short while they emerged. The Swiss left and Dulles signaled for her and Ernie to come with him.

As they looked around the compound, both hers and Ernie’s conclusions were that the Nazis had lived a Spartan life. The house was two stories high and made of cement blocks. It looked shabby and run down and badly needed painting. At least it was large, they agreed.

Dulles checked his watch. “Some other agents will arrive tonight about ten, which is about six hours from now. I want you to stay here and watch the place. There should be no incidents. The Swiss are entirely on board with our taking over the facility. Who knows, we may make it our permanent base.”

Ernie shook his head. “Not if the bombs are going to be falling close by.”

“Good point. I’ll have to think about another alternative. In the meantime, stay out of trouble and don’t break anything. If you need food, call and someone will send in some sandwiches. The phones are working.”

After Dulles left, they wandered about the building and grounds. The Goebbels family had left numerous articles of clothing and many items with swastikas on them. Ernie liberated some monogrammed handkerchiefs and Winnie took some towels, agreeing that they would make wonderful souvenirs. Ernie added a couple of ashtrays and a cigarette lighter to the pillowcase he was using as a swag bag.

The phone rang and Winnie answered it, simply saying hello. As she listened to the voice on the other end, her eyes widened. “Yes, Reich Minister, everyone has safely departed.” she finally said in German.

Ernie grabbed a pad and paper and wrote “Goebbels?” Winnie nodded. She was talking to the head of what was left of the Third Reich. Winnie continued and smiled broadly. “Yes sir, I am part of a detail assigned to protect your property.”

There was more from Goebbels. Ernie tried to get close enough to hear what he was saying, but all he could hear was a nasally voice.

“Will that be all then, Reich Minister Goebbels? Good. Then perhaps I should inform you that I am not Swiss or German. I am an American and I work for the OSS. Ta-ta, Herr Scheissen.”

Winnie hung up and threw herself down on the couch, doubled over in laughter. When she finally got control of herself she took out a cigarette, looked at it and decided against it. She sat back and looked at Ernie. “This will be something to tell our grandchildren.”

“Ours?”

She walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “Yes, Ernie, ours. Remember what I said about my brother being entombed in the
Arizona
? Well, the Japs have been defeated and Germany is about to fall. Therefore, I have decided to start living again. For a while after he died, I went a little wild and crazy, actually more than a little bit. My brother was everything to me. My father was gone much of the time and my mother was too busy reading the society pages, so he took Dad’s place. He was the one who taught me how to shoot and fix cars. I thought about joining the women’s army, navy or Marines, but that wouldn’t put me anywhere near the Japs. The only way I could strike back at his murderers would have to be indirectly, so I used Dad’s influence to meet Colonel Donovan and he got me in. Working with the OSS has helped ground me.” She took a deep breath and smiled warmly. “I know you’re in love with me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Well, I’m in love with you too.”

She took his hand and led him to the master bedroom. The bed was huge, twice the size of a normal double bed. There was a huge red and black swastika on the blanket. “Get undressed,” she commanded and he complied.

Very quickly they were both naked and they soaked in the sight of their bodies. Her breasts were small but firm, and her belly was as flat as any he’d ever seen, and Ernie was happy he’d worked out and stayed in shape. “You really
do
like me,” she said, laughing as she saw how aroused he was. They fell onto the bed and made love quickly. The second and third times were more passionate yet more delicate.

Finally sated, they lay on the bed and shared the cigarette Winnie had started. “Will we tell our grandchildren that we consummated our love on Goebbels’ bed?” Ernie asked.

“When they’re old enough to understand or we’re too old to care. I just wonder if they’ll believe it or if anyone will remember who Josef Goebbels was. By the way, Ernie, you will have fun with my father. He’s loud and pushy but he already respects you. I wrote about you and told him that you were a fighter pilot and now a spy. He never saw action in the first war. Like this one; he’s a civilian expert and stuck behind a desk and he hates it. Whatever you do, be firm with him. He despises weak people. By the way, when was your name changed to Janek?”

“I understand,” Ernie said and yawned hugely. Three times with this woman who was a tiger. She had wiped him out. “My grandfather did it shortly after his family landed at Ellis Island. It had been Janikowski and he felt it was too Polish. Sometimes I wish he hadn’t made the change. I think you should be proud of your heritage and, besides, I like Polish food.”

“So do I, or at least a lot of it. And when we’re back home and after we’re married, I want to go to Hawaii for our honeymoon. The government is going to make the
Arizona
a permanent grave and memorial. There will be no attempts to recover bodies. Too dangerous, I was told. And there’s likely not much to recover after all this time. Still, I would like to visit my brother’s grave.”

“We will do exactly that,” he said and yawned again.

He pulled her over and she rested her head on his shoulder. In a moment, his eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply. She slid out of the bed, padded across the room and got her camera from her purse. She smiled as she arranged a corner of the blanket to cover his exhausted manhood. She took his picture sprawled across Josef Goebbels’ bed with the swastika in plain view. Then she set the camera and the timer so she could be part of the scene, again discreetly arranging the bedding. She kept taking pictures until she was out of film. She would develop the pictures herself. It was another skill she’d mastered in Allen Dulles’ spy school. She almost giggled as she thought about sending copies to Josef and Magda Goebbels.

Winnie felt Ernie shift and his arm fell across her belly. “Just so you know, I really wasn’t asleep.”

* * *

Anton Schneider put his rifle in a closet and slammed the door. “Father, I don’t feel like dying for a lost cause.
You
can if you wish, but neither my friends nor I want to commit suicide. Let’s face it. Germany has lost the war and National Socialism has gone down the toilet.”

Gustav Schneider stood and barely controlled himself while his wife gasped. “How dare you say that? Yes we have suffered reverses, but we will prevail.”

Anton laughed harshly. “Reverses, Father. If these are reverses I’d like to know what you consider a real defeat. We’ve lost everything including all of Germany—or have you forgotten that where we are was Austria until only a few years ago. We have no friends, no money, and we are now living in a fucking cave.”

This time an outraged Gustav did swing his beefy arm, but a more agile Anton ducked under it. “Do you see what’s left, Father? Old men like you and boys like me. We have no modern weapons and no real training. When the time comes to fight the Americans we will be like lambs to the slaughter. We should be arranging our affairs so that we can either leave this godforsaken place and go to South America or surrender to the Allies and throw ourselves on their mercy.”

“He has a point,” said Gudrun. “For the last few years it’s been nothing but defeat after defeat and promises of wonder weapons that are never fulfilled.”

“We pledged to defend the Fuhrer,” Gustav said.

“Father, have you noticed that he’s dead? That ugly cripple Goebbels is not my idea of someone I would die for.”

“If we are captured by the Americans we will be punished severely,” Gustav said. “You might get away with a few years in prison because of your youth, while I would be executed as a war criminal.”

Anton was intrigued. “For what? You were a clerk, a bureaucrat. You had no real authority. What could you have possibly done to be considered a war criminal?”

To Anton’s surprise, his father looked genuinely saddened. “There are many reasons. I ran a ring of informers who told me who was being disloyal. I either accepted bribes from those cowards or sent them to concentration camps where they doubtless died. I stole food from government warehouses so we could eat better than others. And don’t forget, I did rape and enslave that Jewess, Lena. If she’s still alive, she could testify against me.”

Anton laughed. “And who would believe
her
? First, she’s probably dead and isn’t going to testify against anyone. Even if she still lives, I’ve been told that most women who have been assaulted don’t want to testify against those who attacked them. By the way, Father, how was she?”

Gustav laughed harshly. “Inert and as passionate as a large piece of meat. You didn’t miss much.”

“But it nearly cost me my manhood to find that out. Thank God things are back in working order. But let’s get back to the point. We have to get out of here. Just about everyone I talk to is saying they’ll make their way to Central or South America. There are rumors that Goebbels has sent his family across the border to safety.”

“Not all of them. His wife is still in Bregenz. Or at least she was as of this morning.”

Gudrun spoke up. “He’s right. If we stay, we either get killed or are jailed. If we flee, we might find some form of freedom where we can start over.”

Gustav sagged. He looked at the Panzerfaust that was resting against a wall. How futile it all now seemed. “I’m too old to start over and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in jail. Or be hanged,” he said bitterly. “Anton, Gudrun, I saw the light a long time ago. Why the devil did Hitler have to invade Russia or declare war on the United States? It was madness. Who was advising him? I do not blame Hitler directly. He had to have been told that he would win. Why didn’t he simply wait a few years before taking on either nation?”

“Does that mean you will try to figure a way out of this mess? Why don’t we all flee to Switzerland?” asked Anton.

“Because,” Gustav answered, “the bastard Swiss are playing both ends against the middle. There already have been a number of attempts to cross and they have all been turned back or the people given over to Hahn and the SS. No, now is not the time to try that.”

“I understand,” said Anton, “but you will plan for it, won’t you?”

“Yes, and by the way, what does your sister think about this?”

Anton laughed. “My precious little sister is too busy screwing her brains out with that Hans Gruber boy who thinks he’s a Werewolf.”

CHAPTER 17

Brigadier General John Broome returned Tanner’s salute and waved him to a chair. “Get some coffee and have a seat. Close the door while you’re at it.”

Tanner was apprehensive. This was the first time he had had anything other than perfunctory greetings. He thought he’d done a good job for the late General Evans, but who knew what Broome might want out of him?

Tanner passed on the coffee and the general got quickly to the point. “Captain, when you first arrived and General Evans set your group up as a quasi-independent unit, I admit that I was less than thrilled. It was his prerogative, of course, but it was unusual and that offended my very orderly military mind. When I took over, I gave thought to bringing you more under the traditional structure. That would not have been a criticism. You’ve done well.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You know what they say—if it ain’t broke don’t fix it. Well, what we have here ain’t broke. I have no intentions of doing anything that would disrupt a well-running headquarters, especially with the end of the war so close, and, God, I do hope it is close. Ergo, there is no reason for a new Broome to sweep clean,” he said, laughing at his own joke. Tanner winced.

“We all hope so, sir.”

“You planning on staying in?”

“No, sir.”

“Which brings up another point. This man’s army is being emasculated by this very confusing point system that lets our best men get discharged. Experienced and qualified soldiers are being sent home and replaced by troops who don’t know how to wipe their own asses. It’s a helluva way to win a war. And the Krauts know all about it, don’t they?”

“Yes, sir. Some of the men we’ve captured were openly hoping that our army would fall apart as a result. I’ve got to admit that some of the men we’ve gotten as replacements are pretty bad.”

“Like that Oster fellow? That poor puppy shouldn’t have been in any man’s army. His draft board should all have been drafted and sent to work cleaning latrines with their teeth. I know that the point system is supposed to build morale by showing that there was an end to this long and winding road. Instead, it’s helped make the troops we have pull back and not go into combat with the efficiency and aggressiveness they used to have. I’m sure you know how many points you have.”

“Of course, sir, but they keep changing the rules. I’ll get out when they open the door and tell me to leave and go back to teaching college kids.”

“The way things are shaping up, you might have a lot of customers. I understand Truman and Marshall are thinking of having the government pay for veterans’ tuition under some kind of plan. It’s a good idea if you ask me and it will mean millions of our men and women getting an education rather than going out and looking for jobs that don’t exist. That’s what happened when the last war ended and it helped cause the Great Depression.” Broome shook his head. “Enough of a lecture from me. Get out of here and take your young lady someplace nice, if you can find one.”

Tanner was surprised that the general knew about Lena. “I guess there are no secrets in this man’s army, sir.”

“None whatsoever, Captain. It’s worse than a small town full of old ladies.”

* * *

He was only in his mid-forties but looked and felt decades older. His once decent suit and shoes were dirty and tattered and he was hungry. It was a far cry from the position of power and respect he’d held in Berlin only a few months earlier. Now, he was a fugitive and he wanted to stop running. There was, however, no place to hide. Hitler was dead and Germany was devastated. American soldiers were everywhere and didn’t even bother to glance at him with anything more than contempt.

He was in what had once been the proud city of Bonn. Now it was a ruin. It was time to stop running. His only choice was to give up.

He strode up to an American sergeant who was just standing around and taking in the desolation. “Excuse me, but can you direct me to your military intelligence?”

The sergeant laughed. “Ain’t no such thing, Mister.”

He caught the joke and smiled. “Then how about your military police?”

He was given directions to, no surprise, a former city police station. Inside, a bored MP corporal looked him over. “What can I do for you?”

He drew himself up to attention. “I would like to speak to your commanding officer. I think he will find that it is important.”

A couple of moments later, a stocky major appeared. He was not pleased at being interrupted. “So what am I going to find so important?”

“I believe you have lists of important people who have not yet been apprehended. I think it is very likely I am on those lists. I would also like to be put in touch with one of the local Alsos teams.”

The major blinked. He had orders to cooperate fully with the Alsos teams. There was one only a couple of miles away, scrounging through the ruins of some scientific facility.

The major was much friendlier now. “Who shall I say wishes to speak with them?”

“My name is Werner Heisenberg and I am a scientist, a physicist.”

* * *

“I see water.”

“Not yet,” Hummel said gently to the still confused Schubert. Every day, Schubert seemed to be getting better, if only so slightly. The bombings had not abated, but they no longer appeared to bother the mentally unbalanced man. Nor had any of them struck as closely as the one that had damaged Schubert’s mind and nearly killed them both. Hummel wondered if his friend’s periods of lucidity were because he was already at the bottom of his mind and could fall no farther.

Their trek from Innsbruck had to be almost over. Lieutenant Pfister kept telling them that Lake Constance should be visible just over the next hill, or the next one. Someday he’d be right. Someday the world would end, too, and someday pigs would fly, thought Hummel.

Their journey had been agony. They’d traveled by night and hidden as best they could during the day. It hadn’t taken long for the Americans to figure out where the troops withdrawing from the Innsbruck area were headed. The long columns of German soldiers had been bombed incessantly, leaving bloody and smoldering clumps of carnage along the trail.

American bombers dropped their loads from on high with little apparent regard for the existence of actual targets. The Americans understood that the Germans were hiding during the day and moving west at night. Thus, anything that looked like it could hide troops, like a forest, was bombed with explosives and napalm.

During the day, American fighter-bombers followed the trail that would lead to the lake or Bregenz. The attacks were incessant. American planes circled like hawks looking for mice. “And
we’re
the mice,” Pfister commented where only Hummel could hear.

There had been little food for the men and their clothes were rags. Their shoes and boots were falling off. Pfister had wondered if this was what it had been like when Napoleon’s men had retreated from Moscow or when the Germans had retreated from everywhere in the Soviet Union. At least it wasn’t snowing and icy, they decided, and gave sardonic thanks for small favors. And thanks to the mountain runoffs, clean, fresh water was not an issue.

The sound of a car horn blaring jarred them out of their exhausted reveries. They quickly moved off the road as a large Mercedes sedan bore down on them, going at a high rate of speed over the narrow dirt road.

“The driver’s insane,” said Pfister as they moved farther off the road and into a stand of trees.

“In more ways than one,” said Hummel. “There must be a score of Yank planes looking at the cloud of dust the car is churning up. The fool is just asking to be killed.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have much choice, Hummel. Maybe the poor driver has been ordered to drive that way by someone who outranks him. In which case, it’s the man or men in the back seat who are to blame. I will bet you that the driver is crapping his pants and looking up at the skies.”

Hummel agreed. The car was only a couple hundred yards ahead of them when a bird of prey, an American P51, shrieked down from the skies and strafed the car. The driver must have sensed his danger because he began swerving wildly and trying to escape.

The driver evaded the fighter’s first pass and stopped the car. He jumped out and ran into the woods. The occupants of the back seat were halfway out when a second American P51’s bullets minced the vehicle. It exploded and a ball of flame rose into the sky.

“If the driver has any sense at all he will lie low for a while,” said Pfister. The driver did. They waited a number of minutes. The Yanks again flew over, looking to see if anyone had either survived or come out into the open.

When they thought it was safe, Pfister yelled for the driver to come to them if he was able. He was. A few minutes later, a thoroughly shaken middle-aged corporal made it to them and collapsed. They gave him some of their water and a cigarette. He identified himself as Herman Farbmann, and said that he had been driving for General Lothar Rendulic, commander of all forces east of Innsbruck and titular second in command of all German forces in Germanica.

Pfister looked at Hummel who nodded. “I’ll take a look, Lieutenant. Just watch the skies for me.”

The car was still smoldering. Two bodies lay half out of it. One was a badly burned man in the remnants of a uniform and the other was naked and charred and might have been a woman. A few rags of bright cloth fluttered near her now sexless body. There was also a scorched leather briefcase, which Hummel took. In the event it contained anything important, it could not be kept by the side of the road.

“Yes, it was General Rendulic,” Farbmann said later as he sipped some brandy they’d found on another body earlier that day. “The fool said we had to wait for his mistress to get ready and the lazy self-centered bitch was impossible to get going. Her idea of getting up early was launching her ass out of bed about noon. I would have left her, but the general worshipped her. I urged the general to hurry, that the Americans had planes overhead watching all the time, but he laughed at me and said I was a coward. I guess he wanted to show the woman just how brave a German general was. Are you impressed by his bravery, Lieutenant? I’m certainly not.”

Pfister stood. He kept the briefcase. It was locked and he didn’t open it. If it contained secrets, he didn’t want to see them. “I think we should begin marching west again. At any rate, we should get away from this site. The Yanks are likely to come visiting again. We’re not that far from Bregenz or Lake Constance. Are you joining us, Corporal?”

“I’m honored, sir. Just curious, though. How far away is Bregenz?”

Pfister smiled engagingly. “Why, Corporal, it’s just over the next hill.”

* * *

Josef Goebbels shook his head sadly. It had been confirmed. Lothar Rendulic had been killed, murdered by American assassins. They would not keep it a secret. Too many people already knew about it. It was ironic that Rendulic was an Austrian and not a proper German. That point, however, was a small one. What to do with his portion of the army was the real question.

Field Marshal Schoerner sat across the room from Goebbels. Since they were in a cave there were no windows and Goebbels had the feeling that he was in a prison cell. Would this be his life if the Americans got their hands on him? That could not happen. He would rather die. He already had a cyanide pill in his pocket and was not afraid to use it. Now that the children were safe, he could concentrate on his own fate and that of Magda. In his opinion, she could bloody well do whatever she wished with her life. Whatever fondness he’d once felt for her was gone and not likely to return.

Schoerner removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Minister, I do not think it is necessary that we do much of anything about the army’s reorganization. So much of Rendulic’s forces had been turncoat Russians and Croats and so much had been whittled down by the fighting for Innsbruck that there really aren’t that many purely German units left. Once again, they are mere remnants. I propose getting them as close to Bregenz as possible and constituting them as a rear guard with General Warlimont in command.”

“All right,” Goebbels said softly. “We’re slowly being strangled. What I once said about preserving the seeds of Nazism is turning out to be terribly wrong. We’ve lost a third of our army, which was already vastly outnumbered in the first place, and much of the territory that we so confidently called Germanica.”

“But what we have left will be easier to defend.”

Goebbels stood and began to pace, quickly aware that the office was so small that he had no room to maneuver. Just like his army, he thought wryly, hemmed in by Jewish-dominated Americans who wanted to destroy him. At least the children were safe and Magda would soon be leaving for Bregenz, but not for the compound she and the children had recently occupied and had now been taken over by the Americans. He had initially been furious when he realized he’d been talking to an American spy at the family quarters in Arbon but later saw the humor in it.

His mind had wandered and he belatedly realized that Schoerner had been talking about tanks. “Repeat that, please,” Goebbels said.

“I was saying that the compressed Germanica will be easier to defend. I have already given orders to those remaining armored units to pull back and form a mobile defense force in Bregenz. Sadly, there are only about fifty tanks left. The idea of using them in fixed fortifications has proven to be a disaster. These remaining few would have to be thoroughly hidden.” Goebbels understood the logic. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could emerge and smash an overconfident American attack, thus buying the Reich some more time.

But time for what? Dr. Esau had insisted that his atom bomb would be ready shortly. Would that change matters? The Americans had proven that they had at least two bombs while Esau insisted that the best he could do was manufacture one. Goebbels believed the man. They would have to use their one bomb wisely.

Goebbels shook his head. Germany stood alone. A devastated and thoroughly cowed Japan lay prostrate and ready to be crushed by an American heel. Nor did Germany have any defenses against America’s overwhelming air power. The Americans were destroying antiaircraft batteries in a manner that defied logic. His engineers said they had developed some way of using their radar to figure out the source of an antiaircraft gun and killing it. They tried to explain the science to him, but he couldn’t comprehend it. All he understood was that his hopes for the future were being destroyed. The Americans were gathering strength for an all-out push that would end all dreams of survival.