Germanica (38 page)

Rather than thinking dark thoughts, they both thought it was best if they spent these precious few minutes holding each other and wishing they had more than a few minutes.

* * *

Another betrayal, thought Josef Goebbels as he contemplated the message he’d just been handed. What remained of his intelligence service said that the Swiss were moving large numbers of troops towards the border. This was coming on the heels of their surprising announcement that any deserters from the German army would be welcomed with open arms by the Swiss government and not returned to Germany against their will. Obviously the Swiss had succumbed to pressure from the Americans. Air drops of leaflets proclaiming this had inundated the German lines. So far there had not been a mass exodus towards Switzerland, but he could only wonder when it would happen. More than ever he needed the strong and harsh efforts of his loyal SS.

That assumed, of course, that they remained loyal. How many would emulate Hahn and try to disappear? How many had false papers and money hidden away, waiting for just the right moment to disappear? Probably most of them, he thought wryly—after all, he did.

And now the Americans were also littering the place with pamphlets promising death and destruction on a level never seen before if the Wehrmacht did not surrender. The pamphlets hinted broadly at the expanded use of napalm, of an atomic bomb, and, perhaps most terribly, poison gas. Even the dumbest or most fanatic German soldier could tell that the Thousand Year Reich was in its death spasms. A thousand years? Goebbels laughed harshly. It had not lasted two decades. Hitler was dead and Germany was in ruins. Any idea Goebbels had of dying as a noble martyr had long since passed. When the time came, he would do as Hahn and so many others had done. He would cross the border and use the chain of safe houses that had been established for just such a contingency. He had the necessary false papers and the money to get away safely. It was a shame that he was so recognizable. He walked with a limp and his face and nose were not easily forgotten. Perhaps he could disguise himself as a woman, or have a doctor put a fake cast on his leg?

The sirens went off again. He swore. It was another damn raid by the Americans. What would it be this time, more pamphlets or napalm? He’d just gotten word that the Yanks had taken Lindau, only a few miles up the coast. The Yanks were exerting steady pressure against Vietinghoff’s units to the east. No major frontal attacks, just a constant nibbling from positions of power.

* * *

Napalm. The woods were burning. Hummel and Pfister could smell the stench of burning woodland as well as cooking flesh, much of it human.

Pfister was near his breaking point and wide-eyed with fear. “Do you think there will be a forest fire?” he asked. The thought of a wave of flames overcoming them and scorching them was terrifying.

“It’s too wet,” said Schubert and both Hummel and Pfister stared. Their shell-shocked companion had been responding to questions more and more lucidly. Maybe he really was on the road to recovery.

Schubert looked around him and continued. “Where the bomb lands it’ll burn, but there’s little wind and everything is wet. There will be no firestorm like the Americans want to let loose on us.”

“What should we do?” Hummel asked. Despite what Schubert had said, he’d begun shaking with fear.

“Stay here,” said Pfister. “But we keep an eye out for signs of a fire coming towards us. If that happens, we run like the devil.”

Hummel was about to say something when there was an intrusion. “What the hell is going on? What are you cowardly shits up to?”

It was an SS captain. They didn’t know his name, but they’d seen him before. Their assessment of him was that he was an arrogant prick. He was associated with the SS antiaircraft detachment that had moved in too close to them for comfort.

Pfister snapped to attention while Hummel and Schubert got to their feet. Hummel noticed that Schubert had gotten his hands on a pistol, which was tucked in his belt. Why hadn’t he noticed that before and where had Schubert found it?

Pfister answered. “Sir, we are trying to stay out of sight. We believe that your battery of eighty-eights will draw American fire from the lake, or even their planes. Therefore, we will stay hidden until the Americans actually move towards us from the lake. Then we will return to our positions and chop them to pieces.”

The captain sniffed and then sneered. “I doubt that you will chop anything to pieces. I think you are a pack of cowards. I think you are planning to skulk here until the Americans come close and then you will surrender. You will be of no use to me unless you move closer to where my guns are dug in and waiting to take on the Americans. Now get up and move back to your real positions.”

Hummel’s mind was racing. That was the last thing he wanted to do. Pfister, however, seemed reconciled to it. “As you wish, Captain,” he said.

The captain walked over to Schubert who now seemed very confused and shaken. “What is your problem, soldier?”

“I don’t want to die,” Schubert said and began to weep.

The SS captain was shocked. “Fucking coward,” he said and smacked Schubert across the face. “I’m going to take you back and see that you are hanged.”

“No!” howled Schubert. He pulled the pistol from his tunic pocket and fired point blank at the SS man, emptying the clip into his chest. The SS man fell backwards and immediately began vomiting copious amounts of blood. He tried to get up but couldn’t. He looked around at his killers and then lay back down.

Pfister checked his pulse. “Dead,” he said with a smile. “Good job, Schubert.”

“He
wanted
us to die. I don’t want to die. I just want to go home.”

“We all do,” said Hummel. He held out his hand and Schubert took it. Hummel spoke gently. “I think you should let me take care of that pistol while we get rid of this man’s body.” Schubert nodded and handed over the weapon. It was a Mauser C96, a weapon that had been issued to the Wehrmacht in the thirties, but was now considered obsolete. Again he wondered just how the devil Schubert had gotten it? Hummel asked and Schubert said he didn’t remember. He also didn’t have any more ammunition.

“Somebody’s likely to miss the swine sooner or later,” said Pfister as he jabbed the body with his foot. “Speaking for myself, I do not want to get in a gunfight with our own army. We will find someplace safer.”

“May I suggest we leave him here with his pistol in his hand?” Hummel said. “Perhaps someone will think the obnoxious bastard committed suicide?”

“Hummel, that is an absolutely evil solution. I like it. However, how would someone shoot himself eight or nine times? No, we will strip him, hide him in the woods and hope he’s an unidentifiable mess by the time he’s discovered. Maybe we can find a place where napalm has started a fire that is still burning, and leave him there?”

CHAPTER 20

Captain Charley Ward from the provost marshal’s office was not comfortable. “You know you don’t have to do this,” he said.

Lena smiled. “But I want to. It’s time to set things straight, if only in my own mind.”

Gustav and Gudrun Schneider had been swept up by the Americans and been arrested. To her utter astonishment, they’d listed her as someone who could provide them with an alibi and keep them from being tried as war criminals. As the jail where they were being held was only a few miles from where she lived and worked for the 105th, she convinced Tanner to go with her to see them. He wasn’t certain such a confrontation with the Schneiders was a good idea, but she said it would help her get over what had happened to her, and he reluctantly agreed. They also had a candid and somewhat uncomfortable conversation regarding what she would say.

Lena and Tanner met the Schneiders in what had been a doctor’s waiting room. There were chairs and a table. Ward said he had to be present and Tanner said he wanted to. Lena squeezed his hand and said she wanted him there as well.

Ward cleared his throat. “The last thing we want to do is send innocent people to prison. Miss Bobekova, the Schneiders are claiming that they took you into their house and kept you safe during the war. They say they fed you, clothed you, gave you shelter, and treated you with courtesy and respect. What do you say to that?”

Lena stared at the Schneiders. They looked smaller now, and petty. It was hard for her to believe that they’d once held the power of her life in their hands. “In large part, it is true. I did have a roof over my head and what food they had was shared with me. They got the larger portions, however. Mine barely kept me alive.” She pulled a photo out of her purse and handed it to Ward. “As you can see, I was little more than skin and bones.”

Gustav protested. “But we gave you what we
could
. No one had food during those last days.”

“But
you
always did,” Lena said. “I saw the stores of food hidden in your basement. You took food shipments meant for the German people and for me. You stayed fat while others starved.”

“But you lived,” Gustav continued. “So many Jews like you didn’t. We could have sent you east to the camps in Poland. You would have died almost immediately in a place like Auschwitz. And for that we are fighting for our lives, and our children were brutally assaulted.”

“I will give you credit for taking me in, but I think it was only because there was doubt about my being a Jew. That and you needed someone to work in your house and I happened to be handy and qualified. That doesn’t excuse your keeping me a slave for those years. Nor does it excuse you for raping me.”

Even though he knew about it, Tanner froze when she said it so calmly. Lena continued. “You forced yourself on me. And as thanks for being your slave you were going to have me sent to a factory where I would have been worked to death in a short length of time. You two forgot that I had ears and was not part of your furniture. I overheard much of your plans. If I hadn’t escaped I’d be dead. Your two children had the misfortune of finding me trying to escape so I had to hurt them in order to get away. Part of me says I am glad they survived, but it would not have bothered me if they had died.”

Gustav had begun sweating. “I am truly sorry that I assaulted you. I was drunk.”

Lena laughed harshly. “Yes, you were drunk. So drunk, in fact, that you were practically impotent, but that was the first time. There were many other times, or had you forgotten?”

Gudrun gasped and stared at her husband. “You swine, you swore there was only the once.”

“Are you that stupid, Gudrun, that you believed Gustav’s lies?” Lena said and enjoyed both of them wincing at her use of their first names. It was a clear sign that she was on top and they were below the bottom rung.

“Gudrun, there were many times when your pig of a husband would come to me and take me because he said that having sex with you was like humping a large piece of cold meat.”

“You bastard,” Gudrun screamed and struck Gustav, splitting his lip.

“It’s not true,” Gustav protested as blood flowed down his chin, and she hit him again, bloodying his nose.

Lena smiled coldly. “And let’s not forget the innocent people you sent to the Gestapo if they couldn’t pay the bribe you insisted on. And sometimes, Gudrun, that included sending over their wives and daughters if they didn’t have enough money or anything else of significant value.”

Gustav began to blubber while Gudrun screamed at him. Ward nodded solemnly. “I think this marriage is in serious trouble. Irreconcilable differences, if you ask me. I think we’ve all heard enough. This hearing is over.”

Lena stood and took Tanner by the arm. Together they walked out and Ward followed. “Miss Bobekova, Lena, I don’t think they’ll be calling on you to be a character witness anytime soon, and I’m glad. I don’t think you should have to relive your experiences and have them put on an official record.”

“What will happen to them?” Tanner asked.

Ward shrugged. “It’s kind of up to them. We’ll offer him five years in prison if he confesses and implicates others and ten if he goes to trial and is found guilty. And he will be found guilty. As to Gudrun, she’ll probably get a few months’ hard labor. Quite frankly, these two are small fry. We want people like Goebbels. I think Herr Schneider will decide that five years is a bargain, especially if it keeps his wife away.”

As they walked to the car, Lena took Tanner’s arm and squeezed. “Even though much of what I said was a lie, I’m glad I did it. I saw real fear on the faces of the Schneiders and I’m glad.”

Lena had told him that she’d been assaulted only the once by Gustav Schneider. She’d said she was going to exaggerate to frighten him. She hadn’t expected Gudrun’s violent outburst but it didn’t upset her. It was their turn to know fear. Ward had been in on the charade as well. Nobody wanted Gustav Schneider executed. It would have been a waste of a noose or a bullet. She just wanted justice and that included frightening him as he had frightened her. If he went to prison for a number of years, that was enough for her. They were brutal filth, but they had kept her alive, at least until the last moment.

* * *

“I think I could walk all the way across the lake without getting my feet wet,” said Tanner.

“That would be good,” said Cullen. “Doc Hagerman says you’re still supposed to keep them dry.”

“Go to hell,” Tanner said good-naturedly. It was the kind of stupid, nervous banter that men who were about to go forth and try to kill other people would sometimes engage in. It also was an attempt to drown out the thought that they could be killed at almost any time. They were not invincible and they now knew it. Their experiences in the war had proven it.

Tanner used his binoculars to scan the vast array of landing craft and other, more lethal warships. He fervently hoped that the sight of the armada would scare the Nazis into surrendering. Sadly, he didn’t think it would happen. Maybe some would give up, but far too many would fight until the end or until they were given orders not to. Maybe they weren’t crazy fanatics like the Japs, but the Nazis were bad enough.

“At least we won’t be in the first wave,” Tanner said. Their orders had them placed in the fifth wave, which was still no picnic. Worse, they would have General Broome in the boat with them. The general was not a glory hound but did feel it was his responsibility to be as close to the action as possible. Tanner and the others admired him for it, but it also meant that they would have to be closer to the action as well.

They had been awakened in the middle of the night and told to be prepared to board the boats. This would be the day. They did not call it D-Day. That was reserved for the landings at Normandy and the term was now considered almost sacred. This had been designated R-Day for Redoubt. Some were happy it hadn’t been called G-Day for Gas, which was on all their minds. Of course, G-Day could have stood for Germanica, too.

Only a few moments earlier, the officers had been gathered and told that there would be no poison gas used. Instead, it would be a nonlethal combination of tear gas and white smoke that would hopefully terrify and confuse the Germans. While there was relief that poison gas was not on the agenda, there were mixed emotions. No gas meant that Germans who weren’t terrified and confused would be alive, ready, and able to defend against the landing.

The men were still ordered to wear the awkward and sweaty gas masks. First, even a light dose of tear gas could incapacitate a man, and, second, it was hoped that the sight of U.S. soldiers storming ashore wearing the masks would unnerve the Germans who had precious few of them.

“Well, it sure as hell unnerved me,” said Cullen. Tanner and the others heartily agreed even though they didn’t quite believe the denials from on high. The government and the army did funny things and often at the expense of the troops in their command.

Shortly before dawn, the long caravan of landing craft headed out onto the clear blue waters of Lake Constance. The waves were negligible, which didn’t stop one of the sailors from puking, which then got a bunch of soldiers joining him. The sky was bright, clear, and blue, marred only by the odd white contrails made by high-flying planes. At least they’re ours, thought Tanner. He hadn’t seen a German plane in months, well before they arrived to attack the Redoubt.

The landing craft circled and jockeyed for position. There were to be six waves, each consisting of thirty boats. It was hoped that a full regiment, along with armor and artillery, could be delivered in a very short time against what was hoped to be a shocked and demoralized enemy that was expecting to be slaughtered by poison gas. When unloaded, the craft would circle back and pick up more soldiers, repeating the process until the 105th Infantry Division had landed and joined up with the Tenth Mountain Division.

“What the hell!” yelled Tanner. “I thought we were supposed to be in the fifth wave where it’s safer.”

General Broome was in the bow of the boat. If he heard, he didn’t show it. Broome and his staff, Tanner and Cullen included, had just found themselves in the second wave, where it was far more dangerous.

A lieutenant from Broome’s staff grimaced. “He asked for the change just a little while ago. He said he wanted to be closer to the action so he could support the troops by being seen.”

“Shit,” said Cullen, “I’d like to inspire them by being invisible.”

Artillery fire erupted from the shore. Shells splashed among the small craft, sending up geysers of water and shell fragments. One came close to their boat, dousing them with water and spent metal. No one was hurt.

Another shell hit a landing craft directly, and it erupted in flames. Men jumped overboard and into the cold lake. Only a few managed to get out of their gear. Most of them sank, a couple waving their arms futilely as they disappeared under the water.

“We don’t stop,” yelled the young ensign in charge. Tanner understood. War consisted of terrible equations and values. They were still about a mile away from shore. More men loosened their gear to the point where it was barely hanging on them. If they were thrown into the water, the hoped they could get out of the gear and not be dragged down to drown.

The line of destroyers began shelling suspected German positions. Insanely, some of the German gunners began shooting at the destroyers and not at the landing craft. But not all. A shell hit the bow of their craft, shaking them violently and destroying one of the machine-gun mounts. Tanner crawled over to see if he could help. The two men working the gun had been pulverized. Someone was screaming. The skipper of the LC had been hit by shrapnel and disemboweled. The only thing Tanner recalled was his name, Kubiak. He’d seemed like a decent guy and now he was going to die. Medics were swarming over him, but they would only ease his passing by heavily dosing him with morphine.

The landing craft was taking on water and in danger of sinking. No, Tanner thought, it was definitely sinking. The water was up to his ankles and rising quickly. They were only a few yards from shore when the LC hit ground and stopped. Someone in the crew ordered the ramp dropped and men poured out into the still frigid waters. This is just like crossing the Rhine, he thought, and realized irrelevantly that the lake
was
part of the Rhine. His feet were getting wet along with the rest of him. He jumped into the lake and waded the last few yards to the shore.

He looked around and saw the general helping people make it to land. “I hope he’s happy,” Tanner said to a bedraggled Cullen.

Cullen looked skyward and over the coast where a white cloud was advancing. Above the cloud, waves of planes were flying over and out into the center of the lake after dropping their loads. “Oh, God. Now we’re gonna find out whether the army was lying to us or not.”

* * *

Sibre and Schafer hadn’t seen so many airplanes in their young lives. Hundreds of fighters were escorting many hundreds more bombers. They would carpet bomb Bregenz and the areas around the German capital.

The two pilots were towards the rear of the extended column. The lead planes had the task of taking on German planes and positions. There would be no enemy planes, so that left them free to attack antiaircraft batteries. By the time they arrived overhead, however, many of these had been silenced by other planes or naval gunfire. This gave them a clear view of what was going to transpire. They had heard the denials of the use of gas and kind of believed them. Better, they were many thousands of feet above ground, and gas couldn’t climb to their height. They hoped. They didn’t have gas masks. None had been issued to pilots despite their protests that they might be forced to land and might need them.

Bomb bay doors opened in the bellies of hundreds of bombers. At a signal they began dropping thousands of small bombs. From where they were, it looked like a snowfall. A minute later, the bombs began impacting. Clouds of white smoke erupted and, taken by the wind, began swirling towards the lake, blanketing the German lines.

“Dear God,” muttered Sibre. “Can you begin to imagine what’s going on down there?” Schafer could not. What looked like blankets of death were heading though Bregenz and towards the lake. It was a vision of the Apocalypse. Inside the cloud, he visualized four deadly horsemen riding their skeletal steeds and mowing down victims with their scythes. He shuddered. Sometimes having a vivid imagination was a curse.