Germanica (7 page)

“That’s for Ike and Bradley to decide, just like it’s going to be up to Devers to figure out how to get his army across. When that happens, maybe we can cut off at least some of the German army heading to the Alps. You know damn well that Patton is chomping at the bit to cross and now that we have this Alpine Redoubt to worry us, I’ve got money that says we’ll be crossing just as quickly as possible.”

Montgomery’s planned massive combined forces jump across the Rhine was code-named Operation Varsity Plunder. Critics of the British general’s plans held that Varsity Plunder was overplanned and overlarge. It even included massive airborne assaults that had, in the past, resulted in heavy casualties.

Evans waved grandly to his grinning staff. “The Seventh Army and this division are going to cross that damn river. And when we do, we’re going to smash that Alpine Redoubt and then be on our way home.”

There were more cheers. Tanner decided he needed some fresh air and stepped outside. As usual, the weather was damp and foggy. He decided that Germany in the winter wasn’t the most wonderful place in the world. South of them and closer to the Alps was supposed to be great ski country. Too bad he didn’t ski.

Mitch Cullen, a captain and another member of the division’s G2, or intelligence section, joined him and shrugged. “Crossing the Rhine sounds like a fine opportunity to get shot at.”

“Are you criticizing our beloved general?”

“Horrors, no. It’s just that Evans is a lot more enthusiastic about invading Germany than a lot of people, and that includes me. I just want to get this over, get out and go home.”

“Pretty much my idea, too.”

Sergeant Hill emerged from the tent and joined them. He didn’t salute. Nobody did. Even though the area was supposed to be safe, there was always the risk of a sniper. Saluting identified the person being saluted as someone important. Saluting, therefore, was prohibited, particularly by those who were important.

“Captain Tanner,” said Cullen, “you missed the best part. General Evans had already gotten a change in orders from Ike. We are to cross that river as soon as possible. In particular, Captain Tanner, he wants you to find and gather as many small boats as you can find.”

“Captain Cullen, did someone tell our general that the Germans had either taken or destroyed all the boats along the Rhine?” Tanner asked. He had three weeks’ time in grade as a captain. This made him the senior of the two.

“General Evans said he knows that and that he believes you are a very resourceful officer who will solve your part of the problem and do so without getting your feet wet.”

“Shit,” Tanner muttered while Cullen laughed.

Hill smiled. “It gets better, or worse depending on your perspective. I’m supposed to help you.”

CHAPTER 4

Tanner looked through his binoculars at Germany. He was in the upper floor of a two-story hotel located outside the village of Vogelgrun and on the west side of the Rhine. He could see the mist-covered river and Nazi Germany beyond it. The scene looked peaceful, but it was deceptive. Just past the Rhine lay the Siegfried Line. It was said that the wall was obsolete and that the troops manning it were second and third rate, but no one would know for certain until the river was crossed and the defensive line attacked. Tanner had the terrible feeling that the blood price would be very high, regardless of any obsolescence or lack of training.

He handed the binoculars to Cullen. “What I would highly recommend is lining up every artillery tube in the world and pounding the crap out of everything within five miles of the river for a week or two and then sending a thousand bombers over the place to finish the job.”

Cullen nodded. “Sounds like an effective use of military resources to me. Unfortunately, it ain’t gonna happen. Did you happen to notice that there’s not much to see on the other side of the Rhine? Like that bridge at Remagen, the Germans don’t seem to think this part of the Reich is all that important. There’s nothing out there but farmland and that little town of Briesach just to the north.”

Tanner disagreed. “Don’t you wonder just how many of those farmhouses and haystacks are pillboxes and bunkers in disguise? And how many machine-gun nests could be hidden in a field? Give me a bunch of Boy Scouts with water pistols and I could raise hell with anyone trying to cross. The Krauts didn’t help matters by destroying the only bridge in the area. Even if we do get troops across, it’s going to take a long time to rebuild it. In the meantime, we’d have to use small boats and pontoons. And did you notice that the river is running high and fast? And oh yes, the water coming down from the mountains is very, very cold. And unless I’m wrong, those are chunks of ice floating in it.”

The bridge that had once spanned the Rhine was in ruins. The center span was gone, dumped into the river by German engineers. Germany was so unreachable it might as well be on another planet.

“Answer me a question, oh Professor Tanner,” said Cullen. “Are we in Germany or France?”

“Son, this is land that has been shot, fought over, and pissed on for centuries. It was mainly France up until 1870 when the Germans took it. The French got it back in 1918 and then lost it in 1940. I think it’s safe to say that right now the fair city of Vogelgrun is predominantly French. Any Germans who lived there are either running for their lives or keeping their heads down and maybe learning French. There may be a number of Swiss in the town since the border and the city of Basel are so close. And we do want to keep the Swiss happy.”

Despite all the changes in nationhood, Vogelgrun had been spared much of the devastation of war. Only a few buildings had even been damaged. Some collaborators had been beaten and a few hanged, but there had been no orgy of destruction. Nor did they see more than a couple of cases where women who’d fraternized with the Germans had been punished by having their heads shaved or having “whore” painted on their bare breasts.

If it weren’t for the number of armed American soldiers in the streets, Vogelgrun and the neighboring towns could have been quaint tourist destinations. The American army had been greeted enthusiastically and an entire regiment of the 105th had taken up positions fronting the river. Wine and brandy had flowed freely and young French women and even some older ones had been generous with their bodies. Sergeant Hill happily informed them that he’d gotten laid twice. Tanner hadn’t yet been so fortunate. Sometimes he wished he’d kept in touch with his ex-girlfriend back in the States. At least he’d have someone to write to and get letters from. But that relationship had just faded away.

“I just want to keep General Evans happy,” Cullen said as he squinted through his own binoculars. “He wants to cross here and we’re supposed to find boats while he scrounges up a pontoon bridge. Better, he should find a whole lot of pontoons since they have an annoying habit of getting smashed by enemy artillery. I know I don’t see any enemy at all, but you know they are hiding out there and watching us.”

They were distracted by a buzzing sound. They looked to the west and saw a small plane, the army’s version of a Piper Cub, flying low over the far side of the river.

“I wonder whose mad idea this is?” said Tanner.

“Maybe we’ll find out if the Germans are awake,” Cullen muttered.

He had just finished saying that when tracers streaked skyward from several hidden German machine guns, probing for the plane. For a moment, it looked like the plane would dart through the fire, but it was like it was trying to dodge raindrops. The plane was struck by a stream of bullets. It shuddered and started to fall but then rose as the pilot regained a semblance of control. More bullets slashed into its thin fuselage. The plane rolled over and dropped straight down into the ground where it disappeared into a fireball.

“The Germans are alive and well and one pilot isn’t,” Tanner said sadly.

Sergeant Hill had arrived in time to see the plane and pilot die. “Poor bastard.”

In response, American artillery began shooting at targets across the Rhine. Shells exploded near where someone thought they’d seen the Germans fire at the doomed plane.

Tanner looked away from the window. “They don’t know what they’re shooting at. They just want to do something for that damned pilot.”

Shells from the American 105mm howitzers continued to dig up the dirt. The Germans decided they’d had enough. Their hidden guns began firing back. Vogelgrun and the close by city of Muhlbach began to suffer. A shell struck the hotel where Tanner and the others were watching. The explosion threw them to the floor, covering them with dust and debris. Someone in the distance screamed. They smelled smoke. Their hotel was burning.

“Let’s get out of here,” Tanner ordered, and they clawed their way through fallen roofing and walls. Civilians and American soldiers poured from the hotel. Nearby, buildings were burning.

“Why us?” Cullen asked plaintively. “What the hell did we do?”

Tanner ran to a ditch and jumped in. The others followed. The German guns found a nearby American battery of four 105mm cannon and smashed it. Tanner watched in horror as bodies were hurled around like leaves. In the street by their ditch, more broken bodies lay and some of them were burning.

Tanner replied. “Maybe because they saw us in the windows and thought we were artillery observers. Or maybe they were just bored. Maybe they’re just rotten pricks who like to destroy cities.”

More German shells struck buildings in the town and much of Vogelgrun was on fire. So much for it being a tourist destination, Tanner thought. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the Germans stopped firing. So too did the remaining American guns. A few moments of bloody, burning hate and it was over. The surviving American guns from other batteries were towed away out of range of their tormentors. The Germans had won this skirmish. Or had they? If someone was paying attention, they had just given away the positions of many of their guns.

Tanner gathered his small command and they retreated ignominiously out of range or at least out of sight of the Germans. They passed more men from the 105th Division moving in. The battle for Vogelgrun and a Rhine crossing was not over.

When he thought they were safe, they sat on the ground and rested. Canteens were raised and cigarettes lit. “Okay, Sergeant Hill, what the devil did you find?”

Hill took a long swallow from his canteen and poured a little on his filthy head and face. “Well, sir, you sent me out to scout and snoop and I did just that. And you’re right. Just about any boat of any real size was either sunk or dragged over to the other side. However, some very nice people in and around here hate the Germans so much that they’ll be willing to sell us some small boats and tell where some others are being hidden.”

Tanner laughed sarcastically. “Sell? They couldn’t hate the Germans all that much. Still, how many boats are we talking about and what kind of capacity?”

“I think we could get the general a hundred and each could hold a squad. We could get a battalion over with each wave.”

Tanner stood and dusted himself off. “Then let’s gather up all those boats and see what Evans wants to do. At a battalion per wave, it’d take forever to get the division over, much less the entire Seventh Army. He’s trying to scrounge pontoon bridges from Seventh Army and turn this patrol into a major push.”

* * *

Lena watched stoically as the long line of emaciated ghosts moved down the road, headed south towards the mountains. They moved in daylight. They weren’t worried about the American planes strafing refugees. Lena wasn’t so certain. Mistakes had a terrible way of happening, and maybe they weren’t always mistakes. Some Allied commander might just realize that even slave laborers were part of the German war effort and attack them. I could have been one of them, she thought. Perhaps I should have been and it’s still likely I will be.

These were prisoners from the large concentration camp at Dachau and other satellite camps. They all looked gaunt and sickly. Even though it was still winter, they were dressed in rags and many were barefoot. Their eyes were dead and they could barely shuffle. They were being marched south to work on the Alpine Redoubt. She wondered how many of them would make it and how much work they would be able to perform even if they did arrive alive.

They were divided into groups of about a hundred and each group was guarded by members of the Volkssturm, the People’s Storm that had been created by the SS a few months earlier. These so-called soldiers were too old or too young or too sick or crippled to fight in a regular force. This did not stop some of them from being sadists. She forced herself to watch as one prisoner fell and was beaten and kicked until he staggered to his feet. How long would he last? she wondered. A few moments later, she heard a gunshot through the window and knew the answer.

She couldn’t tell if any provision had been made to feed the prisoners. How could starving men work? she wondered. All of Germany was on short rations because of the war and it made macabre sense that prisoners would only get leftovers. But what was the point of marching them somewhere just so they could die? Of course, the Nazis were anything but logical. She was living proof of that. After all, was she a Jew or wasn’t she?

She sensed that Anton was behind her. “You are very fortunate, Lena. You could be one of them.”

“I know,” she said softly. She wanted to cry but would not let Anton see her weakness.

He put his hand on the small of her back and began caressing her. “Don’t do that,” she said.

Anton laughed throatily. He leaned into her and she could feel that he was aroused. “My father only said that I couldn’t fuck you because you are a Jew. Not only do I think that he’ll forget all about that little rule when we have to leave, but I don’t believe in it anyhow. Even if he beats me, I think it would be worth it.”

He slid his hands around and up, cupping her breasts. “Too small. A real German woman would be bigger.”

She reached behind and grabbed his erect manhood. “So would a German man,” she said, squeezing hard and twisting. He gasped in pain and let go of her. She released his penis and pushed him away. “I am now going to help your mother with housework. I strongly suggest that you not try that again.”

Anton held himself as the pain subsided. To her surprise, he laughed, “At least not until a better time.”

He went outside to get a better look at the inmates passing by. He would join other good Germans and abuse them. Spitting on them seemed particularly amusing. Lena watched through a window and realized that she would have to make her decision soon. She already had an emergency package that contained extra warm weather clothing. She would have to add food and other items essential to surviving in the woods. She had never slept outdoors in her life, but that was likely to change very soon. It would be better, she determined, to die in the woods than to be abused by Anton and then sentenced to a living death helping the Nazis.

* * *

Ernie Janek had gone for an evening’s walk. He was taking a break from the intense physical training at the embassy and decided that a beer was in order. Previously he’d gone to a tavern a few blocks away, and decided that a visit to a new one was in order. He had taken a seat and ordered. He had only taken a couple of swallows when he noticed two burly men sizing him up. They had short-cropped hair, which marked them as military, and he was willing to bet money that they were Nazis. Like an idiot he had just stumbled into a bar that was frequented by Nazis. He decided to act like he was drunk. With a clatter, he dropped some change on the table. He staggered outside and into an alley where he leaned against a wall and pretended to pee.

Ernie Janek sensed the presence behind him. He willed himself to stay calm. He would be immobile and not even change his breathing, which was shallow and, he hoped, silent. He was not a large man. There wasn’t room for anyone with any size in the cockpit of a P51. But he was stocky and powerfully built. He hoped the two German goons thought he would be easy pickings.

The presence was to his left. Good. When it was only a couple of feet away, he exploded. He kicked the man in the balls and grabbed him by the throat before he could scream. He punched the man in the temple and felt him go slack. Now where the hell was the other one?

Ernie stepped over the first man, who wasn’t moving. The second man looked stunned at Janek’s sudden transformation. Ernie feinted with his left fist and kicked the man in the meat of his thigh with his right foot. He too went down, howling with pain. Janek silenced him by kicking him in the side of the head. He ran back to the embassy. The Marine guards stiffened as they saw him but relaxed a little when they recognized him. He quickly explained the situation and they grinned at the thought of a little action.

He went to his room and called Dulles at his palatial residence on Herrengasse Street. Ernie had been there a couple of times and it really was a centuries old palace.