On Desperate Ground (10 page)

At one point, it had become too much. Faust needed to be in combat, to assuage the demons that now roared in his head. He had asked Guderian for a transfer back to Foreign Armies East. Guderian told Faust to get back to work, that although the Reich would be better off with fewer soldiers at headquarters, they were all stuck here for now.

“Tomorrow after the
Führer
briefing, that all may change,” Guderian had said. “We’re going to put everything at stake, risking all our heads.”

Guderian had been furious when he heard that Hitler had appointed SS
Reichsführer
Himmler to lead Army Group Vistula. This unit, hastily formed from units of every type in northeastern Germany, was to block Russian forces from East Prussia to the Oder River. Army Group Vistula was already under heavy attack, and Himmler’s lack of combat experience, and near command paralysis, signaled disaster. Guderian planned to demand that General Wenck take over command of Army Group Vistula, as Himmler’s Chief of Staff. To get Hitler to admit that his SS commander needed assistance from a regular Wehrmacht officer, publicly embarrassing the
Reichsführer
, might be nearly impossible, but Guderian steeled himself for the attempt.

The mid-day sun shone bright and the February sky, usually gray and overcast, dazzled with a brilliant blue. As the cars left the Zossen countryside and entered the Berlin city limits, the sky became obscured by lingering smoke and clouds of dust from recently collapsed buildings. As they drove north on
Potsdamer Strasse
into the central city, it seemed as if night had fallen at two in the afternoon. Wind blew dust and debris through the streets, and fires burned as workers dug out the rubble of bombed buildings. At one intersection, the cars halted while several fire engines raced by. Faust gazed out the car window. On the street, in an area cleared of debris and bricks, ten bodies were neatly laid out, yet to be covered. Three men, five women and two children. The men were older than the women, not unusual with all available manpower at the front. Four of the women were middle-aged. The younger woman was probably the mother of the two children, one laid out on each side of her. She still had on her apron, as if about to make breakfast for her little boy and girl.

“My God,” murmured Boldt. “When will it all end?”

“If briefings and staff reports could win wars, it would be over tomorrow,” Faust said.
 

“I know you hold this staff work in low regard,” Boldt replied, “but it must be done. General Guderian needs our support to put his ideas before the
Führer
. Where else could you contribute so much to the defense of the Reich?”

The last of the fire engines cleared the intersection and the staff cars pulled forward, leaving behind the row of corpses.
 

“Where else, indeed, Boldt,” said Faust, half to himself. “Where else indeed?”
 

Faust stared out of the window, his thoughts flying to another woman, dead at the hands of his enemies. His right hand trembled as he thought of Anna, and he willed it back to stillness. Stuck at headquarters, the stress was beginning to tell.

The car drove on, the occupants in silence. Through the
Tiergarten
, along the canal, toward the Spree River, everywhere were signs of recent and previous bombings, with long lines of refugees coming in from the east. The British had bombed Berlin the night before, and the Americans had struck in the early morning, insuring they would be over the target and home again in good weather. This meant that the city was safe from another bombing until later that night. Even with ruined buildings still smoldering from the last raid, there was relief on the faces of the Berliners. Those who had escaped injury appeared to enjoy the prospect of a full day not spent waiting for the air raid warning. Perhaps because of this, it had been announced that today’s
Führer
briefing would take place above ground, in Hitler’s undamaged study in the Reich Chancellery.
 

The lead staff car stopped as SS guards stood in the center of the road, one block south of the Chancellery. They motioned the cars to pull over and park. Guderian and his officers stepped out and faced the SS officer in charge of the detail.

“
Herr
General, you and your staff will have to walk the remaining distance. The streets are blocked by bomb damage. The south entrance to the Chancellery is around that corner.”

“Very well,” acknowledged Guderian. He and his party of officers gathered their maps and briefcases and began a winding, single file walk through the rubble-strewn streets. The nearby buildings and the billowing smoke blocked the feeble sunlight. Faust shivered from the cold as the acrid smoke bit into his nostrils. The group approached the Reich Chancellery entrance coughing and breathing through handkerchiefs held over their faces.
 

“Papers please,
Herr
General!” a guard standing by the massive doors barked, the “please” sounding more like an order than a polite request of a general staff officer. Guderian beckoned Boldt forward as he withdrew documents for each member of the party from his briefcase. One by one, the guard checked the papers and motioned each individual inside. The SS men of the
Leibstandarte
Adolf Hitler, the
Führer’s
personal bodyguard, displayed an open arrogance when it came to Wehrmacht general officers. Following the July 20
^th
plot against Hitler, salutes and basic military courtesies had vanished, and SS guards took pleasure in treating Wehrmacht generals as if they were common soldiers.

Once inside, the group was brought into an anteroom furnished with one long table. The walls were faced with green marble, and dusty light came from several large windows along the outer wall. A central staircase ascended from behind the table, then split in either direction underneath a huge Imperial eagle grasping a swastika in its claws. Faust scanned the room as if it were a trap. SS guards on the staircase above them held Schmeisser submachine guns at the ready. The guards in the lower chamber were arranged so as to be clear of the field of fire from the staircase.
 

“Briefcases and sidearms on the table!” announced the SS
Scharführer
in charge of the guard detail. Each officer placed his briefcase on the table and opened it. Silently, the guards went through the contents with practiced dexterity. Maps were unrolled, files opened, and identity papers checked once again. Receipts for sidearms were given, visitors not being allowed to carry weapons in the
Führer’s
presence. The officers opened their greatcoats, allowing the guards to check for hidden weapons. The
Scharführer
searched Guderian himself, appearing uneasy with this personal intrusion of a respected military figure.

“Everything is in order,
Herr
General. Please follow me.”

The group headed up the staircase, past the steady gazes of the guards, following the
Scharführer
as he led them down a long hallway with offices on each side. Everything appeared normal, but as they turned a corner, wind blasted them from the outside. Bombs had fallen along the street next to the Chancellery, and the outer row of offices had been blown out. Doors were shattered and windows gone. The wind blew papers and debris from the ruined offices into the hallway. Memos and maps swirled around the feet of the group as they walked by, shoulders hunched against the cold shock of air.
 

Their route was a roundabout one due to bomb damage. Faust remembered his last visit here, when the walls were adorned with artwork and tapestries, expensive carpets soft underfoot. Now the walls were bare and cracked. Fire damage was evident, and in places the ceiling had caved in. Soot and dust were everywhere.
 

“I did not know how bad things were here,” said Faust, to no one in particular. He had not been in Berlin for more than eight months. While he accepted the destruction and death war had brought, he had never thought the German capital itself could be punished so harshly. His methodical military mind, informed by all the latest intelligence, calculated the evidence of his eyes and determined there was no alternative to the steady advance of the Allied forces toward this very spot.
 

Unless someone did something. Something unexpected. Which was the idea that was slowly and surely taking final form in Faust’s mind and detailed in his notebooks.

“What did you say, Faust?” asked Freytag, walking ahead of him.

Faust did not answer. His thoughts were speeding ahead of them all. After a final identity check, they were shown into the
Führer’s
large outer office, the last room before his private study, where the briefing would take place.
 

Faust was astounded at the difference between these rooms and the shattered city outside the Chancellery walls. Here, paintings decorated the walls and fine carpets stretched out before them. Everything was clean and sparkling. Tables were set with food and drink. Real coffee, schnapps and an abundance of sandwiches and pastries were arranged for the officers as they waited to be brought into Hitler’s inner sanctum. Faust glanced at the dust covering his boots from the walk into the building and felt out of place.
 

The room was already filled with others attending the briefing. Field Marshal Keitel, chief of the High Command and his Chief of Staff General Jodl stood chatting and drinking coffee. Before Faust had a chance for a cup of the real coffee, Hitler’s adjutant, General Burgdorf, opened the doors to the inner study and said, “The
Führer
would like you to come in.”

The study was a cavernous room. The ceiling was gilded, with decorated chandeliers hanging across it. An enormous pastel carpet covered the floor. At the far end of the room the
Führer’s
desk, decorated with swastikas and snakes, stood against the wall. Standing alone in the middle of the room, his left arm limp at his side and his head shaking slightly, stood Adolf Hitler.

Reichsmarshal
Hermann Goering, as the highest-ranking officer, led the group, others following in order of rank. Single file, they all approached Hitler and received a soft, silent handshake. Again, by rank, officers arranged themselves around the huge red marble map table that ran half the length of the long wall. Freytag and Boldt arranged the maps to be consulted during the briefing. Faust watched as junior officers stepped back and positioned themselves behind their seniors. Himmler and Goering stood by Hitler.
 

SS
Brigadeführer
Hermann Fegelin came up to Faust and stood beside him. Fegelin was Himmler’s personal representative to the
Führer
, mainly because Fegelin was married to the sister of Eva Braun, Hitler’s mistress. Fegelin had known Faust in Paris in 1944, and was curious as to why he was there. The briefing about to begin, Fegelin had only a moment to whisper to Faust.

“My dear Faust, what brings you to a
Führer
briefing? Who are you here with?”

“Guderian.”

“Well then, I should excuse myself,” said Fegelin with a sly smile, knowing the confrontation that was brewing between their respective bosses.
 

“Never mind, Fegelin, I need to stand behind my general,” Faust said as he moved away toward the end of the map table where Freytag and the others stood behind Guderian. Faust had gotten to know Fegelin well during that brief period in Paris. He admired the man for being so open about his political ambitions. With rampant deceit at the highest party levels, Faust found it refreshing that a charming, unscrupulous cad like Fegelin had actually risen to this level, even if only through marriage and flattery.
 

Faust found his spot at the end of the table. Jodl began the briefing with an overview of the situation on all fronts. Their carefully worded reports avoided any reference to defeats or withdrawals. Even with the Allies approaching Germany’s borders, they made it sound like victory was around the next corner. Jodl droned on, describing the defense of the Colmar Pocket on the western front in glowing terms, even though he knew all German forces there had surrendered or been overrun. The
Führer
would have to be prepared for that news very carefully.

Faust looked around the room as he waited for Jodl to finish. His gaze wandered to the glass doors opposite Hitler’s desk, remembering the colorful, blooming gardens outside when he was last here in the spring. He took one step to the left for a view past the officer in front of him.
 

With a shock, he was reminded of the devastated world outside. The garden was no more. Piles of rubble were heaped up along the sides, and craters with disgorged circles of smoking dirt where this morning’s bombs had hit decorated the courtyard.

An aide saw Faust staring outside and quietly walked to the glass doors, pulling the curtains shut, absolving the room from the vision of the ruined garden. Faust blinked and looked around at the others in the room. Here in the sea of gold braid, shined boots and elegantly pressed pants with general staff red stripes down the side, nothing seemed out of place. Yet destruction lapped at the edges of this very room; how much longer could it be kept at bay?

Faust made a silent vow to do what he could to prevent that defeat, no matter what it took. He had to find a way, a way to continue the war and make the Russians pay for what they had done to Anna. He felt his anger rise, and realized his fist was clenched. Forcing himself to relax, he regained control before his emotions got the best of him.
Not here, not now!
As he did, Guderian stepped forward and began his report. Faust stiffened and readied himself. Guderian wasted no time in describing the Russian attacks and the need for a counter-attack within two days.