Germanica (32 page)

The canteen was passed to the other Russians. When Tanner got it back, it was almost empty.

“Sergeant Radeski, what you feared was indeed likely to happen. But then Stalin went too far. Our president, Harry Truman, is very upset that Stalin is stealing so much of Europe and murdering Russians who are returned to him and that includes those ordinary prisoners who were captured. Apparently, Stalin feels that they have been contaminated. Therefore, President Truman will not force anyone to return to Russia.”

“Where will we go?” Radeski asked, suddenly very solemn. The enormity of their predicament weighed heavily on them. Their cause was lost and they were lost.

“Actually, you have several choices. And by the way, that includes the Croats among you. We will take care of them as well.”

Radeski shrugged and spat on the ground. “Fuck the Croats. I am only concerned about Russians. Now, where will we go?”

“Argentina will take you,” Tanner said. “It’s a lovely country with ranches and farms, good wine, and plenty of beef to eat.”

“Do their women like to fuck?”

Tanner didn’t have to force a smile. “Don’t they all? And then there’s France, which will take you, but they will want you to join either their army or the Foreign Legion. Either way, you will probably be sent to IndoChina where the French are fighting a communist group called the Viet Minh.”

Radeski nodded. “IndoChina has yellow-skinned women, right?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting, Captain Tanner. I’ve never fucked a yellow-skinned woman.”

“I’m sure they’d be thrilled.”

Radeski laughed. “They’d be thrilled until the money ran out. I am not a fool, Captain. I think Argentina would be the better choice, but I will have to discuss it with my men.”

They all rose and shook hands. “Don’t take too long, Senior Sergeant. If the Germans realize what we are doing, they could begin shelling.”

“You’ll have our answer in an hour.”

* * *

It took just a few minutes longer than an hour. American soldiers spotted a long and winding column of men coming down the road and keeping to the left side of it. Tanner had told them that, if they were truly surrendering, to leave all their weapons behind, and that included their German-style helmets. There was fear that the helmets would draw fire from confused American soldiers.

As the Russians slogged by, Tanner looked at their faces. Some were sad and some looked utterly defeated. Others looked hopeful and even smiled at him. They knew they’d been given a reprieve from a death sentence. They were all filthy and appeared near starving.

Radeski approached Tanner. “It has been decided. We would like to go to Argentina.”

“Good choice. I never asked you, but what about your families back home?”

“They are dead. If they are not already cold in the ground, they soon will be. Stalin’s secret police would have rounded them up the moment they found out that we’d deserted the worker’s paradise that is Mother Russia. It is sad, but that is life under Stalin. We will start over and someday you will find out that Stalin is worse than Hitler.”

The Russian column continued. “Sergeant, how many men did you bring with you?”

“Approximately eleven thousand. There could be more, perhaps less. No one was eager to stand around and be counted. They just wanted to leave. I am confident that other units will surrender once they see that we are safe. Until then, they will just stand aside.”

Tanner was flabbergasted at the number of Russians and the gaping hole it must be leaving in the German lines. “And the Germans are just
letting
you go? They’ve done nothing to stop you?”

The question surprised Radeski. “Germans? What Germans? There are no Germans, comrade Captain. They’ve all fled west.”

“Then what’s between us and Innsbruck and the American army fighting its way north?”

Radeski roared with laughter, as if it was the funniest question he’d heard in a long time. “There’s nothing between here and Innsbruck. What’s left of it is yours for the taking.”

* * *

The discussion between Allen Dulles and Henri Guisan took place in a small room in the town hall of Arbon and were tense. Guisan’s rank was simply “general.” It implied that he was the only man of that rank in the Swiss Army, which Dulles didn’t think was correct. The Swiss Army was several hundred thousand strong. Logic, therefore, said there had to be more than one general. Dulles had concluded that it was an honorific and simply meant that he was the overall commander.

Guisan, a small, prim-looking man with a thin mustache was, in time of crisis, the commander of all Switzerland. Intensely patriotic and a firm believer in doing everything to keep his country neutral, he had threatened to destroy the tunnels and bridges and move his people into the mountains if the Germans had attacked. The Nazis decided that conquering Switzerland was doable, but would not be worth the time and effort.

But times were now different. Major units of the Swiss Army were arrayed within a few miles the border with Germany. Now they were confident that it would be a fairer fight than it would have been a few years earlier. Back when World War II started, the Germans were strong in the air and had superb artillery and armor. Now they had neither and the Swiss army was larger than the rump German army across the border. Guisan had felt comfortable that his beloved nation would survive the carnage around it.

That is, until he heard what Dulles had to say.

“Let there be no doubt about it, General Guisan, my president strongly feels that the war with Germany must be brought to a swift and relatively bloodless conclusion. The Germans must either be destroyed or capitulate before winter closes down military activities. Therefore, we are giving you notice that our bombers will soon have free rein to bomb any and all targets in the Germanica rump state. These will include the crossing points where trains and columns of trucks are bringing into Germanica what are called humanitarian supplies. If necessary, we propose to starve the Germans. I am well aware that high-level bombing is notoriously inaccurate; therefore I urge you to evacuate areas close to the border, such as this lovely town of Arbon.”

Guisan’s face was turning red. “That is monstrous. We have done nothing to deserve this.”

Dulles shrugged. “Who has, General? You might ask the same question of the Poles, the French and the citizens of just about every nation in Europe. As a great American once said, war is hell. We will not commence bombing immediately. When we are prepared, we will give you twenty-four hours’ notice before we start.”

“We do not have an air force, but we do have guns and we will shoot down your planes.”

“If you do that, the planes escorting the bombers will have orders to attack those guns, wherever they might be situated. Your unique position has spared you the agonies of war, but that time has passed.”

“We will move to our own mountain forts and fight you from there.”

“We don’t care what you do, General. We will not be invading, so you can retreat to the mountains and sit there for all eternity and starve.”

Dulles thought he could see Guisan’s mind churning. “If you will do your best, we will do ours,” he finally admitted.

“Excellent. There are a few other factors to consider. While neither of us has a navy in the area, we will be launching armed gunboats onto Lake Constance. They will not come within three miles of Swiss soil while they bombard German targets. There may also be, ah, other activities on the lake.”

“One can only imagine,” Guisan said drily.

“And when the war is finally over, there will be the issue of Nazi money now on deposit in Swiss banks. These will be turned over to the Allies as part of German reparations. We are particularly interested in retrieving the money and other valuables stolen from Jews and deposited in your vaults.”

“Our bankers will never agree to that.”

“Yes they will. It might take a little while, but they will realize that they have no real choice. If they don’t, Switzerland will be isolated even more than she is now and trivialized. Financial centers will open elsewhere and all you will have left of your economy is skiing, good watches, and excellent chocolates. If your bankers accept our proposal, you will soon recover from any inconveniences you might suffer. If you play it right, you will come out on the side of the angels and the saints and the world will respect you.”

Guisan smiled tightly. “I have never thought of myself as either an angel or a saint, but I do see your point. I will discuss matters with my superiors and will get back to you.”

“Excellent. Just don’t take too long and don’t forget that close-in bombing will commence in a
very
short while.”

“If some of the higher-ranking Nazis want to leave Germany via Switzerland, what will be your stance?”

Now it was Dulles’ turn to smile and shrug. “You can do whatever you want with Goebbels and his ilk. As the saying goes, they can run but they can’t hide. They will ultimately be tracked to the ends of the earth if necessary. I would also appreciate it if you did not hamper our diplomatic operations in Switzerland while these matters sort themselves out.”

The two men shook hands and General Guisan smiled, this time with humor. “It has occurred to me, Mr. Dulles, that your new president is quite a bastard.”

“Sir, I will gladly convey your compliment.”

CHAPTER 16

Tanner was with the lead column from the 105th as it was driven slowly down the road to Innsbruck. There had been no shooting. The war had taken a holiday. The only thing to disturb the relative tranquility was the steady stream of Russians heading to internment prior to a trip to Argentina.

Sergeant Hill was driving, which gave Tanner a chance to think. Doc Hagerman was up to his ears giving surrendered Russians a cursory physical. Each one of them, he’d said, harbored an enormous colony of fleas and other crawly things. “I don’t think some of them have ever bathed in their lives. And as to sending them to Argentina, it would be a cruel thing to do to Argentina. So many of them don’t have any idea what or where Argentina is. All they know is that they hate Stalin and want to be many miles away from his clutches.”

Translations were being done from Russian to German to English, which had led to a number of misunderstandings. Fortunately, none had been serious and the Russians even had a sense of humor. As long as they weren’t going to visit Stalin, they could laugh.

They passed a sign. It said Innsbruck in six kilometers. The sign had been shot to pieces and was barely readable. “Think we’ll find anybody in the town, Captain?”

“There’s always somebody,” he said.

Before the war, Innsbruck had a population of more than sixty thousand. As the end of the Nazi nightmare drew near, the population had swollen to more than a hundred thousand. This had attracted American fighters and bombers who’d plastered what had once been a lovely city and a center of the winter tourist trade. There had even been talk of Innsbruck hosting the winter Olympics, which wasn’t likely given the city’s Nazi past.

As they drove they could see the totality of the devastation. What had been lovely chalets were charred piles of rubble. To no one’s surprise, there were people still living in the ruins. There weren’t many, but at least they had survived, and some of them even waved at the Yanks. As with most Germans in the summer of 1945, they were in rags and looked like they hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Hill chortled. “I sure do like what Hitler did with Germany, sir. I’d like to ask some of these idiot people if this is what they imagined their lives would be after fighting all those countries.”

“You’re cruel, Sergeant, but it is appropriate. The Seventh Army says we should treat the Austrians gently since they weren’t Germans but were taken over by Germany.”

“With profoundest respects to the brass, didn’t the Austrians vote to connect with Germany?”

“Ah, but they say the election was rigged and they were without blame.”

Hill snorted. “All elections are rigged, especially where I come from. People don’t die; they live on forever as voters and it doesn’t matter what dates they have on their tombstones.” He looked again at the ruins. “We sure did bomb the crap out of this place.”

“Did you know there was a concentration camp in Innsbruck?”

“No sir, but I guess I’m not surprised. The Nazis had camps all over the place. It’s a wonder they didn’t run out of people to put in them. Since that’s the case, the flyboys should have bombed it even more.”

Tanner looked up at the mountains, some of which were still snow-capped despite the warm weather in the valley and by the River Inn. The mountains were as scenic as a postcard. If it weren’t for the death and devastation in the valley, the scenery would be perfect.

“Hey, Captain. What do you hear about General Broome?”

Brigadier General Augustus Broome had been promoted from brigade commander to the top spot in the division, replacing the late General Evans. Evans had been given an impressive funeral. Ike, Devers, and Patton had all shown up to pay their respects. After the ceremony, Evans’ casket had been shipped to the States.

“Sergeant, I’ve been told that Broome is highly disappointed. He’s got the division but he won’t get a second star, at least not right away. There are concerns in Washington that we already have too many generals and not enough of an army since the war is winding down. A lot of people are going to be discharged. He was told if he played nice he’d be able to keep the star he has instead of being reduced to colonel, his permanent rank.”

Hill nodded. “Almost sounds fair, Captain. Are you sure the army thought of it?”

“Anything’s possible. Broome did put a stop to any thoughts of prosecuting Cullen for his sloppy way of handling the escaped German prisoner. Intelligence did conclude that it was the little Unger shit who had led the way through our camp because he’d been here before, and that is why Evans got killed. The brass doesn’t think too highly of having generals killed or captured. Heroic wounds are one thing, but killing, no. That Cullen will never see another promotion is now considered punishment enough.”

“But he wasn’t planning on staying in the army, was he?”

“No, but don’t tell Devers or Ike.”

They’d reached the center of Innsbruck. Ahead of them there were shouting and cheers. “What the hell?” asked Tanner.

Groups of American soldiers were gathered around, laughing, hugging, and drinking from canteens that definitely did not contain water. They got out of the jeep and walked to a master sergeant who was red-faced and grinning hugely.

“Sergeant, mind telling me what the hell the party’s all about?” Tanner asked.

The sergeant belched. “I am proud to inform you that we have just rescued your raggedy asses.” He saw the captain’s bars and paled. “I mean we’re here, sir.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” snapped Hill.

The sergeant was a little glassy-eyed. The party had apparently been going for a little while.

“Sir, this bunch of misfits and perverts is from the 85th Infantry and the Fifth Army. We came all the way up from Rome to save you. If I can read maps correctly, this means that the German redoubt has just been cut in half.”

Tanner and Hill grinned. It truly was a good time for a celebration. Hill took the initiative. “Master sergeant, you got anything of consequence left in that canteen?”

* * *

Lena didn’t visit Father Shanahan very often. They both had too much to do and, from her perspective, the search for her father had so far been pointless. But it had been a while, so she made an exception.

“Are you here for me to hear your confession?” Shanahan asked with a gentle smile.

“If I was a Catholic, I’d definitely have you as my confessor.”

“Thank you for the compliment. Now, I assume you want to know if I’ve heard anything about your father. Well, the answer is still no. I’ve gotten responses from a number of sources and there is nothing to tell you. This does not mean that he isn’t alive. It might just be that nobody’s found him yet or he hasn’t decided to come forward. The world is falling apart and has descended into chaos; there are a lot of reasons for lying low. He could also be wandering toward the Allied armies as we speak and having to make a slow go of it.”

Lena was saddened but not surprised. “I sometimes think I should go to Prague and start searching there. After all, it was where we lived.”

“That would be very foolish and extremely dangerous. The Red Army in Czechoslovakia is still wreaking havoc and is only marginally under control. Even if you got through the Russian lines, you’d still have to work your way into Prague. Worse, the commies aren’t about to leave. The best thing for you to do is sit tight and let him pop up someplace. If he’s going to,” he quickly amended.

“You’re right, of course,” she said sadly. “Like you say, it would be foolish, dangerous and likely futile. But it is so frustrating waiting here.”

“If I may comment, you seem even more at peace every time I see you.”

“Thank you and you’re right. I’ve even learned to trust people.”

Shanahan grinned wickedly. “Who is he?”

She returned the grin. “An American, Father, what else?”

“And what are your plans?”

“Our plans are quite simple. We want to survive this war and then think about whether we have a future together.”

“But he will go back to the States. What will you do if you haven’t found your father and he wants you to go with him?”

“Do you want me to say wither thou goest I will go? I will if you like, and yes, I would go with him and continue searching from wherever we doth goest. Of course, he hasn’t asked me yet. I will work on it.”

“Your English has improved also. It was always good, but now it is excellent.”

“I’m surrounded by Americans. It’s hard not to get better. My big worry is some flagrant obscenity working its way into my casual vocabulary.”

“Have you forgiven the Schneiders?”

“No, and I never will. Nor will I ever forget. They enslaved me, hurt me and humiliated me. I’ve survived, and maybe they won’t, and that would be a wonderful punishment. Whatever happens, I won’t worry about it. They may be punished here in this life or not. I will not lose sleep over them. They are beneath me.”

“Lena, would you like a glass of sacramental wine or would you want me to pray for you?”

“Both, Father.”

* * *

Harry Truman fought the urge to ask Soviet Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov if he would like a cocktail. He did wonder if the personal envoy of dictator Joseph Stalin had a sense of humor. Molotov was a survivor. He had lasted through several purges and was now one of the most important men in the Soviet Union. Rumor had it that Molotov had to tread lightly. He didn’t want to be perceived as too important and a rival to Stalin. Stalin’s rivals had a way of disappearing into Moscow’s dreaded Lubyanka Prison and never emerging again.

They spoke through translators. While Molotov’s English was acceptable for casual conversation it was not good enough for diplomatic conversations where nuances were extremely important. Truman’s Russian language skills were nonexistent.

Drinks were served. Truman had his bourbon on the rocks while Molotov had some American-made vodka that he clearly did not like. Truman smiled to himself. He had ordered that bad liquor be served to make the communist a little uncomfortable. It was petty, but he enjoyed it. The Soviets had been such pricks lately.

Molotov put down his glass. “My country’s position is quite simple. We want the deserters from the Red Army handed over to us as we agreed upon.”

“And we would like the Red Army out of Poland so that the Polish people can have their own free nation and a government of their choosing.”

“The two are not related,” insisted Molotov. “The Russians you have in your custody are traitors and justice demands that they must be punished and, yes, that punishment will likely include their execution.”

“And that is barbaric.”

“Not to us. We still have anti-Russian partisans fighting our efforts to bring peace to that area. People are already dying and will continue to die. We must see to it that those traitors do not cause further mischief.”

Truman sipped his bourbon. Unlike Molotov’s vodka, it was the best. “We have it on good authority that many of Vlasov’s soldiers are shot the moment they are taken by the Red Army. That does not sound like justice to me.”

“It is our justice. You may think it is rough, but you have to remember the massive wars and upheavals that my country has endured in the last few decades. Any hint of rebellion must be crushed.”

“Minister, at Yalta your country promised free and fair elections. We even sent members of the exiled Polish government that had been in London to Moscow after you promised that no harm would come to them. We now understand that they are all dead, executed by your secret police. We are willing to negotiate the return of those who wish to go back to Russia, but we will not force anyone to return to Stalin’s clutches.”

Molotov winced at the insult to Stalin. He looked around, half expecting to be arrested for simply being in the room where such comments were made. The arm of the NKVD, the Soviet secret police, was long.

Molotov switched topics. “Stalin is concerned that your actions regarding the traitors presages the possibility of the United States negotiating a separate peace with the Nazis, in particular, the vermin holed up in the Alps.”

“You can tell Premier Stalin that he has nothing to worry about on that score. We will not negotiate a separate peace with those people you so accurately refer to as vermin. We might negotiate where and when they will lay down their arms, but lay them down they will. Josef Goebbels is deluding himself if he thinks we can be deterred by the mountains and winter and anything else that might stand in our way. If he survives, Goebbels will go on trial with all the other Nazi sons of bitches we hold.”

Molotov seemed satisfied, even smiled. “Premier Stalin will be pleased. You might inform the government of Argentina that the Soviet Union will be watching them and how they try to assimilate the Russian traitors. As I said, the NKVD has a
very
long arm.”

“I’m sure the Argentines can take care of themselves. Now, and along the lines with Poland, when are your troops going to end their illegal occupation of Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Estonia, Lithuania, and Latvia?”

Molotov smiled grimly. “There is nothing illegal about our forces being in those countries just as there is nothing illegal about your soldiers being in Germany. We require buffer nations to protect us from future German aggression and our troops will leave those nations when we are confident that they are stable. There will doubtless be mutual defense treaties between those nations and the Soviet Union that will guarantee that peace.”

The Russian took another sip of the vodka and grimaced. “Did I not hear a rumor that the U.S. was contemplating breaking up Germany into little nations much like it was less than a hundred years ago?”

“That was never seriously discussed,” said Truman. “Treasury Secretary Henry Morgenthau proposed it, but it will not occur.” With that, Molotov and Truman thanked each other for their courtesy and Molotov departed.

Truman made himself another drink. Son of a bitch, he thought. The Russians are going to be a real pain in the ass. And how could Roosevelt have thought he could get along with Uncle Joe Stalin? Roosevelt must have been a lot sicker than he and everyone else had thought.