Germanica (30 page)

At ten AM, two men in dark suits exited the White House and approached Joey. He immediately knew them as FBI agents whom he’d seen on duty near the White House. They’d been formal and stern but not in a threatening manner. “Will you please come with us,” one said, “the president wants to talk with you.”

The president? “Sure,” Joey said and followed them. He expected to be taken to the Oval Office but instead went to a smaller office in the West Wing. He was told to have a seat and wait. The president would be along in just a minute.

It was two minutes before a grim Truman entered and Joey nearly fell off his chair. Truman shook his hand and told him to sit down again. Joey noted that Truman was a dapper dresser and was much shorter than he. He also noted that the new president had a strong command presence and a really firm grip.

“Young man, who was the Great Emancipator?”

“Why, Lincoln of course.”

“Yes, and can you imagine Abraham Lincoln arresting people and holding them in prisons without trial or charges?”

“I cannot, sir.”

“Can you imagine Woodrow Wilson doing that either?”

“No, sir,” answered a puzzled Joey. Where was this conversation going? “Woodrow Wilson was a man of peace.”

“Indeed he was and so was Lincoln. Yet both men arrested those who were perceived of as threats to the country and held without bail, charges or trial. Now, do you know why they did that?”

Joey was starting to realize the direction of the questions. “Because we were at war,” he said softly. He wondered if he would be allowed to leave the building.

“Precisely. Because we were fighting the Confederates in Lincoln’s time and the Germans when Wilson was president, Civil liberties were often ignored because it was deemed necessary to protect the country. Were you aware that FDR sent tens of thousands of citizens, both native-born and naturalized, to concentration camps where most of them still remain? Almost all of them are Japanese, but none have been charged with any crime, nor will they be. Do you understand where I am going?”

Joey knew a threat when he heard one and he’d begun to sweat. “If you’re suggesting that I’m a threat to the United States, that’s ridiculous. I just want to save the lives of United States soldiers. I don’t want anyone killed in prosecuting a war that’s already won. I say let the remaining few Nazis stay where they are and grow old, die, and rot in hell.”

“But what about their war crimes?”

“Sir, doesn’t the Bible say something about letting the dead bury the dead? If we can catch them we should punish them, but otherwise let God provide for their punishment. As horrible as it is, nobody can resurrect all the dead Jews.”

“Would you feel that way if the Nazis were still committing those war crimes?”

Before Joey could respond, Truman opened a desk drawer and pulled out a manila folder containing a handful of eight-by-ten photos. “Look at these, Joey,” Truman said in a voice that was taut with anger.

Joey looked at the photos and felt ill. Long rows of dead men lay facedown on the ground. Their hands had been tied behind their backs and they’d been shot in the back of the head.

“Joey, these are slave laborers, mainly Poles and Russians that the Nazis forced to work on their fortifications in the Alps. When they were no longer necessary or got too weak to work, the Nazis, the people you would have us live and let live, murdered them in cold blood.”

“Jesus, I had no idea.”

“I didn’t think you did. These were taken about a week ago and our intelligence estimates that there are at least twenty thousand prisoners remaining in various states of declining health. If we don’t do something, they will all die. I don’t think either one of us has any problems with a couple hundred thousand Nazis starving to death, but I do feel different when it comes to innocent people. I would add that there are a few American prisoners being held in Germanica. What would you have me do with them?”

Joey could feel the force of his arguments slipping away. “What do you want me to do?” he asked in a soft voice.

“I’m under pressure to charge you with either sedition or treason. Attorney General Clark is willing to argue that your wanting our troops out of Germany is giving aid and comfort to our enemy, thus making it treason. J. Edgar Hoover wanted you picked up yesterday and locked up forever, and our previous attorney general, Francis Biddle, agreed with him. You would have spent the rest of the war plus a few decades in prison if they’d had their way.”

Joey was appalled and he began to tremble. He had no idea he could get into trouble simply for doing what he thought was right. The thought of going to prison for possibly the rest of his life horrified him.

“I am not a traitor. If I had known that the Germans were still butchering people I would not have organized this march. My mother wouldn’t have wanted it either.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

“Mr. President, what do you want me to do?”

Truman handed over the folder with the photos. “These are going to be officially given to the press later this afternoon. Take them now and talk to the others in the group. Let them make their own decisions. However, I think it would be a very good idea for you to literally and figuratively distance yourself from the movement and anyone radical enough to want to continue on.”

Joey took the pictures. He would show them around and tell his new comrades that he was going to bail on them. He had a wry thought. He was going to bail and not go to jail. God, had he gotten himself into water that was way too deep for him.

“There are reporters hanging around our camp. I’ll make sure they understand my change of heart.”

Truman stood. The interview was clearly over. They shook hands. “I knew you’d see reason when you understood what the facts were. I only met your mother for that one tragic moment, but I know she’d be proud of you.”

Joey left with his FBI guardians. Truman was relieved to have solved one crisis, if only a minor one. Now all he had to do was solve the growing problem of Stalin’s Soviet Union, which was beginning to make demands that could not be tolerated. He had to concede that poor Poland was again lost. The Red Army was on her soil and not likely to leave. The same held true for Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia. Czechoslovakia and Hungary also had new masters. Austria and Germany would be partitioned.

Japan had surrendered and millions of GIs were clamoring for what they felt was a long overdue discharge.

CHAPTER 15

“This is disgusting,” Winnie said as she watched the first bus pull away from the border checkpoint with Germanica. The bus was trailed by two others and by several trucks, all containing luggage and furniture. The bus windows were closed and shaded. Whoever was inside was safe from prying eyes. However, she and Ernie knew who the passengers were. Allen Dulles had gotten the information from his contacts in the Swiss government. At first it had shocked them, but then it
did
make sense.

“The black widow and her hatchlings have arrived,” Ernie said and Winnie nodded.

The bus contained Magda Goebbels and her six children. Whether or not Magda would stay at the very hastily constructed compound surrounding a large house outside of Arbon was another matter. Ernie felt it was likely that she would cross the border at her leisure and be at her husband’s side until the end. The children, it was felt, would stay in the relative safety of Arbon, or be moved someplace else in Switzerland. Whether or not either parent would die in the fighting was another unanswered question.

A dozen Swiss soldiers on motorcycles led the parade and chased other vehicles off the road. Allen Dulles sat down beside them on a park bench as the parade passed them. He handed each of them a coffee in a cardboard mug.

“Are we going to follow them?” Winnie asked.

“No point to it. We know precisely where they are going and why. When they arrive, they will be secure and secluded. We will observe them and the compound at our leisure.”

Ernie grimaced. The coffee had gotten cold. “From what you’ve told us, they have a hand-picked group of so-called assistants inside the compound. They are, of course, all SS troops and their one and only job is to keep mother viper and her viperlings safe. And, there will be at least a battalion of Swiss army soldiers securing the outside.”

Dulles smiled. “And none of them will be personally neutral. I have it on excellent authority that they’ve been hand-picked because of their pro-Nazi leanings. Therefore, there’s not much chance of their being suborned by sweet talk or money from us.”

Winnie sighed. “Well, it would be wonderful to talk with the happy family. In particular, I’d like to talk to the children.”

Dulles smiled like the cat who’d eaten the canary. “We will.”

“And just how will you do that?” asked Ernie. “Just how devious are you going to be this time?”

Dulles pretended to be hurt. “I’m not going to be devious at all. I’ve gone about it the old-fashioned way. I simply contacted the Germans via the Swiss and asked for a meeting. Frau Goebbels is as intrigued as we are and will grant an interview just as soon as they are settled in. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of days.”

“May I ask her about Marie Leroux?”

Dulles winced. “I have it on very good authority that both she and Sven are still alive. Beyond that, I cannot say.”

“Is it safe to assume that your contacts come from General Vietinghoff’s headquarters?” asked Ernie.

Dulles shook his head. “I will neither confirm nor deny that. Sadly, I can report that both were interrogated and the interrogations were rather brutal along with being very effective.”

“Oh God,” moaned Winnie.

“What can we do to strike back at them?” asked Ernie. “If Herr Goebbels should decide to make a conjugal visit to fornicate with Frau Goebbels, could we arrange to either kill him or kidnap him while they’re screwing their little Nazi hearts out?”

“Absolutely not. First, it would do nothing towards shortening the war. Someone else, probably Field Marshal Schoerner, would take over immediately. Perhaps the successor would even be the head torturer himself, General Hahn. If there was some way of getting Vietinghoff on the throne, I would consider it.”

Ernie didn’t argue. He’d expected the rebuff.

Dulles continued. “There is also the fact that the Swiss government would be deeply offended and require us to leave their country immediately. Whether or not we approve is irrelevant. The United States likes having an outpost so close to the heart of the cancerous Nazi tumor; that is, if Nazi tumors have hearts.

“Therefore, you will make no plans regarding any assassination or kidnapping of Josef Goebbels. Nor will you contemplate kidnapping or harming either Magda Goebels or her children. We simply will not sink to their level.”

“Even if it meant saving lives?” Winnie asked as she wiped the tears from her face.

Dulles nodded tolerantly. “Winifred, when you asked to cross the border as part of an OSS team, I turned you down because I thought you’d be caught immediately. Now you’re feeling guilty because you didn’t push me hard enough. Instead, your old friend Marie went in and is suffering the torments of hell. I have no regrets as to my choice and you have no choice but to respect it. It was not your decision, it was mine and mine alone. You did not have a vote. There was no way on earth that I was going to let you enter Germany or, if you prefer, Germanica. Not only would it have been a waste of your talents, but the political implications would have been enormous. The one time I did send you, the circumstances were considerably different and there was a sense of urgency.”

He shook his head. “Nor did I feel that there was any real danger in that excursion. It was nothing more than the drop off and subsequent pickup of of an envelope that we’d done many times before. I had no idea that Hitler would decide to kill his wretched self on that date and cause such chaos.”

Ernie was puzzled. “Winnie, what the hell is this nice man talking about when he says political implications.”

She smiled wanly. “My father is, was, a friend of Roosevelt’s. He is a big contributor to the Democratic Party. He’s also a buddy of Colonel Donovan’s.”

“I’m surprised that Winnie didn’t tell you too much about herself,” Dulles said. “Along with being lovely, graceful, and intelligent, she is quite wealthy and part of Philadelphia’s Main Line community.”

“Winnie, is that true? What does your father do?”

She was able to manage a real smile. “He buys things. The last time we talked he was thinking about buying Philadelphia.”

* * *

Having gotten out of bombing German targets in the mountains at night, neither Bud nor George, nor the other pilots for that matter, could complain about escorting bombers on another toilet paper run.

As with this and previous other flights, the bombers they were protecting would drop leaflets over what were presumed to be German positions occupied by turncoat Russians. Neither man had heard of a General Vlasov and his anti-communist army. But if they were fighting for the Germans, then they were the enemy. Nor were any of the pilots concerned about the rumored forced repatriation of the Russians to Stalin’s embrace. Hell, they’d fought for the Germans and should be punished. The piper wants to be paid, one pilot had said.

But if thousands of Russians could be convinced to surrender, then a lot of Americans might survive the war instead of getting killed in pointless fighting. The surrender of the Japanese after the second atomic bomb had struck Nagasaki had come as a pleasant surprise to everyone. It had been presumed that the Japs would fight to the last Japanese man, woman, and child, and that the war would continue for many long years. The American body count would run into the hundreds of thousands, if not more. “The Golden Gate in Sixty Eight,” was a commonly heard cry from the soldiers in the Pacific. Now it looked like it was the Nazis who wouldn’t give up. The Germans didn’t stand a ghost of a chance against the Americans, so why were they still fighting, was the constantly asked question.

“Toilet paper away, alert the assholes,” said a sarcastic Bud as bomb bay doors opened and tens of thousands of sheets of paper billowed down. Puffs of black smoke appeared by the bombers as German antiaircraft guns took up the challenge.

“Where are they coming from?” Bud asked. He looked below for flashes of gunfire. “I see something, guys. Just follow me.”

A stream of four planes plummeted down. When they were low enough, Bud fired his rockets and machine guns, the shells’ impacts highlighting what he thought was a target. The other planes saturated the area with their rockets and machine guns. There were no secondary explosions and there was no more antiaircraft fire. They made a second pass and dropped bombs. This time there was a small secondary explosion and they were jubilant. They received radioed thanks from the bomber pilots.

“Well,” said George, “do you think we hit them or just chased them away.”

“Either way works fine for me. I hate to lose bombers I’m supposed to be shepherding. I think the bomber pilots are arrogant pricks, but they are Americans.”

“Yep, and they think we’re arrogant pricks as well.”

Ahead, the bombers were turning and heading back to base. The fighters followed in their wake. Other formations joined them and a mighty armada that hadn’t dropped a single bomb turned for home.

“What are they having for dinner tonight?” asked Bud.

“Shit on a shingle. What else? Rumor has it that when we run out of that crap they’ll declare the war over and we’ll all go home.”

Bud laughed. “Then let’s eat hearty. And when we’re done we can go into town and see that new cabaret everyone’s talking about.”

“Which one is that?”

“The one where all the women are dressed up like nuns.”

* * *

Once upon a time, the road south to Innsbruck had been paved. It had taken drivers on a comfortable and scenic trip between snow-capped mountains. They would arrive at Innsbruck ready for a holiday filled with skiing and other activities. But it had been shelled and bombed so often that the road had reverted to a far more primitive state. It was now worse than if it had never been paved. Craters that could swallow trucks caused the line of Sherman tanks to snake its way slowly down the remains of the highway. White flags nailed to stakes showed where a path had been cleared of German mines. A tank carrying flails that whipped from a bulldozer-like front led the way. It was based on an idea by British officer named Percy Hobart. It and other creations were called “Hobart’s Funnies.” What was a real laugh for the Germans was that the minesweeping tank actually worked as the flails caused the mines to detonate harmlessly.

As long as the American armor kept to the cleared path, they were reasonably safe. The GIs were not likely to stray. Intelligence said they were now in the middle of an extensive minefield. It would be a long time before all the mines were located and dug up.

Tanner nervously followed the column of tanks in a jeep with Sergeant Hill. Their job was to check and see if any Russian prisoners had been swept up or, better, if any of them had decided to surrender as a result of the blizzard of papers urging them to do so. Cynics doubted it if or no other reason than that the Russians were largely illiterate.

Sergeant Archie Dixon was in the first tank behind the flail. Even though there was a significant difference in rank, the meetings between Dixon and Tanner had been cordial, even friendly. Tanner thought that Dixon was a good kid and a helluva leader and wondered where he’d wind up when the war was over. Assuming he made it through, of course.

“Movement,” yelled Hill. A second later, a dozen men jumped up from where they’d been hiding in the grasses along the side of the road. They were carrying Panzerfausts, the antitank rocket that could be fired by one man if necessary. It didn’t have much range, but the Germans were already too close for comfort.

Machine guns cut down several of the Germans, but enough of them got close enough to fire at the tanks. The German rockets arched out and struck their targets. Several struck treads, which was only an inconvenience since damaged treads could be repaired.

Tanner watched in horror as Dixon’s tank was hit. It staggered to a halt and smoke began to pour out of it. Men followed and one man was limping on one leg. He was missing his left foot and screaming. The wounded American staggered off the path and into the minefield. He had gotten only a few yards, when a spring-loaded German antipersonnel mine known as a “Bouncing Betty” jumped from the ground, exploded, and disemboweled him.

Tanner ran to the damaged tank, hugging other vehicles and trying very hard to stay on the path. Medics had arrived at Dixon’s tank by the time he arrived. They had bravely dared to leave the path to get to the casualties.

One of Dixon’s crewmen lay facedown in the dirt. A medic had put his helmet over his face and turned away. A second crewman lay half out of a hatch and the lower half of his body was smoldering. Dixon was leaning against another tank, his face contorted with physical and emotional pain.

Dixon saw Tanner. “They killed my men. Why did they have to do that?”

It’s because we’re at war, he thought but did not say. It would have been too cruel. “Sergeant, are you wounded?”

“I don’t think so, but I wish I was. Maybe I wish I was dead. I think I’m the only survivor from my crew. Would you tell me why that happened?”

“I have no idea,” he said. He thought that one of Dixon’s other men might still be alive, but it wasn’t the time to bring it up.

A medic came and pulled on Dixon’s arm until he followed him. “Shell-shock,” said Hill. “Maybe he’ll come out of it and maybe he won’t.”

Tanner had seen enough mental cases caused by the war to last a lifetime. He looked around at the terrain. The mountains that used to look scenic and romantic seemed to be glowering at him. “Sergeant Hill, is it just me or are the Alps getting bigger and closer?”

* * *

It was movie time in the White House again. The audience was small, consisting of the President and General Marshall. There were no refreshments, although Truman had a bourbon and water. The projectionist had been dismissed after confirming that the five star general could actually run the device. What they were going to discuss would be very sensitive and the fewer who heard them, the better.

A number of scenes had been spliced together, all in black and white and all with that annoying herky-jerky motion that made old movies so maddeningly difficult to watch. It even made war look deceptively funny.