Germanica (35 page)

Fulton lit a cigarette. “I wonder how high and how far the rot goes. There are rumors of theft and corruption so vast in this army that this is only a drop in the bucket. Of course, the kidnappings and rapes put a different face on it. This is no longer just plain stealing for profit.”

“And don’t forget the murders these women say these bastards committed,” Tanner said. “I originally wanted them to go to jail, now I hope they all hang.” And thank God that Lena was safe with the army, he thought. It could easily have been her in that building with those women. Jesus, what a war.

A few moments later, the older woman, their spokesperson, approached Tanner. She was now wearing an ill-fitting uniform. “You will want to see what is parked in the trees. There are at least a dozen ambulances, all with the Red Cross on their sides. They used some of them to transport the women to places where their bodies would be sold. There are, however, a number of them that have not been opened and, until you arrived, their German guards hadn’t run away. It was a bargain made in hell. German soldiers pimping German women out to American criminals.”

Fulton looked shocked. “Can you take us to these vehicles?”

“Of course, but I won’t have to. There’s a path through the woods. Just follow it.”

* * *

It was roughly half a mile from the church area to the parking lot in the woods. By the time Tanner and a full platoon of infantry arrived, almost all the Germans had disappeared. One soldier with a broken ankle had been left behind and he was angry at being left. Water and a cigarette made him think highly of his American captors.

“I have no idea what’s in the trucks. We loaded them up at a small town up north and drove down here. We were supposed to get into the Redoubt and safety. Obviously we didn’t make it.”

“You’re saying you don’t know what’s in the vehicles?” Tanner asked.

“No idea, but it must be valuable. I drove and an SS asshole sat beside me. There was another SS asshole in the back. We were commanded by a lieutenant who didn’t know what to do when he realized that the path to the Redoubt was closed. So we sat here until you people arrived. When the shooting started, he and the others simply ran away. Good riddance, and I hope that the bastards who left me here get caught by the Russians.”

They asked if the ambulances were booby-trapped and the soldier told them that they weren’t. “They were going in and out all the time and then they left in a rush. They only made certain drivers like me didn’t look inside. You want me to come with you to prove it, I will.”

They did and the prisoner, using crutches found in the medical supplies, led them around the trucks. Fulton picked one at random and they found that it was unlocked.

“Jesus,” said an astonished Fulton.

The ambulance was filled with paintings. Tanner pulled one out. “This is a Van Gogh,” he said incredulously. He moved some others with extreme caution. He didn’t want to be the one who damaged them after all this time. His memory of art history classes wasn’t all that great but he recognized a Matisse and a Picasso. A small painting might have been a Rembrandt. His hands shook as he dared to touch it. Most of the other trucks were also loaded with paintings. Two, however, were not. They were filled with blocks of American one hundred dollar bills.

Tanner pulled a pack of bills and riffed through it. “I estimate each truck is carrying several million dollars of American money.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be handling it. Some people might think you’re taking some for your retirement fund,” said Fulton.

“I don’t think so,” Tanner said and laughed.

The platoon had gathered around him. “Any of you guys work at a bank or work someplace where you handled a lot of money?”

A corporal and two privates said yes. The corporal had been a head teller at a bank. Tanner handed him the pack. “Look it over, please, and tell me what you see?”

The three checked the money and returned the pack. It had a face value of ten thousand dollars, which would buy a big house back in the States and was much more than the average person earned in a year. Anyone who did make ten thousand a year was considered quite well off.

Tanner put the pack of cash back in the ambulance and closed the door. He would assign guards to protect the vehicles. First, however, he had a question to ask.

“All right, you three, what do you think all this cash is worth?”

The three of them grinned and the corporal spoke. “Not a damn thing.”

* * *

Ernie and Allen Dulles rode in an older four-door Mercedes. Rank had its privilege so Ernie drove while Dulles took in what sights there were. Their little excursion was a secret. No one else, not even Winnie, knew of it.

Dulles smiled. “Ernie, have you ever been to Germany?”

“No sir, unless you count the time I was halfway under a fence and trying to drag Winnie out. I have not been to Germany and I didn’t expect it to happen this way. I thought it would be nice to take a scenic cruise down the Rhine with a fraulein on my lap and a beer in my hand, but I never intended to stop at a crappy town in what used to be Austria.”

“But Bregenz is an important place. It’s now the capital of Germany, or Germanica if you prefer.”

“I prefer that it disappears into the bowels of the earth. When are you going to tell me why we’re headed to the border crossing point?”

“Right now would be a good time, I suppose. We are going to cross and meet with two high-ranking Nazis. They wish to discuss matters with us, and, while I believe I know what they wish to talk about, one does not assume.”

The border gate was coming up. Ernie stopped and a Swiss soldier passed them through. A sullen German soldier briefly looked over their identification and waved them through as well. Obviously they were expected. Another soldier on a motorcycle signaled for them to follow him and they obeyed. Ernie was in civilian clothes and wondered just what the German reaction would be if he pranced around in the uniform of an air force captain. Getting shot might have been one option.

“Go very slowly, Ernie. I want to take in as much of this as is possible.”

“That and it’s really pissing off the guy on the motorcycle because it looks like he wants to go a lot faster.”

“What do you see, Ernie?”

“Germans, Germans, and still more Germans. This dismal place is crawling with Germans and most of them are officers. Where are the enlisted men? Oh yes, they’re probably out getting shot at and killed.”

“Don’t be cynical, Ernie. Do you really think it’s any different at Ike’s headquarters or at the Pentagon? By the way, your observation about the preponderance of officers was correct for other reasons. We believe that a lot of high-ranking Nazis made their escape to this location while the enlisted men, sergeants, and lower-ranking officers were left to their own devices. The enlisted men are the ones we are trying to get to surrender through our pamphlets and such, although, with a little bit of luck, maybe we can land some larger fish, like we are going to try to do today.”

“I’ve also noticed that there are antiaircraft guns every few feet. Pilots like I used to be could be hit hard and a lot of them could die.”

“And don’t forget that those same guns can be used to kill tanks and infantry. I think that a lot of this is for us to see and report back. Taking Bregenz, Ernie, will not be a walk in the park. Many photos have been taken, both from boats and planes, but we are the first Americans to openly visit this city in quite some time.”

Their escort waved them to a brick building that had once been a police station. Now it was surrounded by temporary buildings and barbed wire. “Ernie, we are here to see General Alphonse Hahn and his chief acolyte, Captain Rufus Diehl.”

Ernie whistled. “Jesus, the lord high executioner and his head torturer. Why do they want to see us?”

“I believe it’s because they want to trade something of value that they have for something of value that we have.”

Ernie thought for a moment, then paled. “Oh my God, do you think they want to trade for Marie and Sven? If so, what can we give them in return?”

“We can give them safe passage to wherever in the world they want to go.”

“Will you make such a trade?”

Dulles sighed deeply. “I suppose we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

* * *

They were ushered to a small room that barely held a table and four chairs. “Will anybody be taking notes?” Ernie asked.

“Don’t worry, everything will likely be recorded.”

The two Germans entered before the Americans could even take a seat. Ernie was impressed. The timing meant that he and Dulles would not have to rise for the Nazis or insult them by remaining seated. They introduced each other, but no one shook hands.

“I appreciate your coming,” said Hahn. “We have a great deal to talk about. As mentioned, I would like to arrange a trade. We will give you two of your agents in return for safe passage for Captain Diehl and me. There are others I would like to save, but I only have your two agents, Leroux and Hansen.”

“I assume they are well,” Dulles said. Ernie could see that Dulles was keeping a tight rein on his emotions. He had never met Sven Hansen, hadn’t even known his last name for that matter, but he
had
met Marie. More important, she was a close friend of Winnie’s.

“They are well, but they could be better. They did fight their interrogations and were, well, damaged. Their fighting did not last long because we were in a great hurry to get what timely information they might have had. As it was, they really didn’t know much that was new. For instance, we’ve known all about Captain Janek, his career as a pilot, and his tendency to beat up German soldiers.”

Ernie had been given specific instructions to be seen and not heard. He looked at Dulles who smiled and nodded. “General, I distinctly recall being attacked by your soldiers on at least two occasions.”

“Of course,” said Hahn who turned to Dulles. “And I’m also aware that the young lady who works with you is the same one who tripped me on one of her spying excursions, thus causing a great deal of hilarity at my expense.”

Dulles answered. “If I recall, you were trying to assault her.”

Hahn smiled. “Thus proving that there are many sides to each story. But let’s get back to the point. Are you interested in a trade? And before you make that decision, were you aware that Marie Leroux held dual citizenship? Yes, she is also an American citizen.”

Dulles took a deep breath. “Yes, we are interested. But first I would like to see them.”

Hahn shook his head. “That is not possible. However, I do have some photographs that might interest you.”

He handed over a manila folder. Two pictures spilled out. They showed Marie and Sven standing against a wall. Both were naked and their bodies were masses of bruises and burns. Their faces were badly bruised and swollen. Ernie had to restrain himself.

Hahn handed over two more pictures. “These photos were taken yesterday. You will see a vast improvement.”

Their bruises were largely gone and Marie in particular looked fairly healthy. “One of the conditions for letting Sven live was that Marie would become my mistress. She services me whenever I wish, although without great enthusiasm. If she does not improve, or if I tire of her, she will be handed over to the troops for their enjoyment. She has also serviced Captain Diehl, again without passion.”

Ernie found himself gripping the arms of his chair and wishing he could break off an arm and use it as a club to bash Hahn’s brains in.

Hahn ignored their discomfort. “Captain Diehl and I wish to exit Germanica through Switzerland and from there to a place of our choosing. We will depart with some luggage, of course. You are a man of honor, so we will require your word that you won’t even think of chasing us for three months.”

“What about Magda Goebbels?”

Hahn shrugged. “Who the devil cares, and, besides, she left for Switzerland this afternoon. Like Captain Diehl and me, she will have various identities she can use. Women are so fortunate. They can change their looks simply by dyeing their hair and having it cut.”

“Well then, what about Josef Goebbels?”

Hahn smiled. “The Reichminister and new Fuhrer has determined that he will stay in Bregenz to the last, thus emulating his hero, Adolf Hitler. Of course, he could change his mind at any time. But no, you will not have to worry about Josef Goebbels.”

“Good,” said Dulles. “That would have been too much to promise.”

“Then we have a deal?”

“Yes,” said Dulles.

“Then I will sweeten it for you. I will give you the names, account numbers, and passwords to several hundred Swiss bank accounts currently in the name of members of the Nazi hierarchy, most of them dead or captured, and others that had once belonged to Jews. I will also suggest that you take notice of the camps that are being built throughout the area. Several thousand criminals will be housed there. Since your country considers them victims of Nazi oppression rather than the lawbreakers that they are, they will be insurance against your planes bombing Bregenz or any other area close to it. We are confident that Truman would not like to add another massacre of civilians to his list of crimes. After all, aren’t Hiroshima and Nagasaki enough?”

The meeting ended. Again, they did not shake hands. Nor did they speak until they got back to Switzerland. “I want to throw up,” said Ernie.

“Be my guest, but not while you’re driving. Don’t be angry and don’t envy Hahn and Diehl. We get our people back and those two will be chased for the rest of their lives. Someday, somewhere, I am confident that justice will be served. Now all we have to do is get the rest of the rats to leave their sinking ship. And as to what Truman will do about the camp inmates, I have no idea. I’m just thrilled that I am not in his shoes.”

“You’re right, sir.”

Dulles yawned. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t help but smile wickedly. “By the way, do you have any idea why Winnie had me send a slightly stained Nazi bedspread back to her father via diplomatic pouch?”

CHAPTER 18

Lena sat primly in a chair beside Tanner’s desk. He had to fight the urge to reach out and grab her and, judging from the smile on her face, she was thinking the same thing. They lived in a world with little privacy, which meant few opportunities to carry their relationship farther than a few swift, almost stolen, kisses. Her tent mates had offered to rent their tent for a couple of hours or simply look the other way while they made love, but the offers had been laughingly rejected.

Lena shook her head. “I have interviewed all of the women you rescued. There were sixteen of them and two of them actually were prostitutes. The rest were kidnapped and forced into it. Where they were being kept in the compound actually wasn’t a brothel. They were taken to places where there were GIs and were used there. Their captors kept all the money, of course. The girls were poorly fed and several had venereal diseases.”

“Which didn’t slow down a bunch of horny GIs, did it?”

“Of course not. Nothing would.”

Tanner shook his head, then smiled warmly. “So you’ve absolutely decided to come to the States?”

“Yes. And as I’ve said before, I will continue my search for my father from there. Who knows, if he’s survived, maybe he’s headed to America as well. And yes, I will be following you, so make room wherever you plan on being.”

Lena winked at him and walked away.

Almost immediately, Cullen came and took her seat. He looked stricken. “What’s your problem, Cullen?”

“Maybe a big one, Tanner. Would you kindly tell me why we’re being issued brand new gas masks?”

* * *

Harry Truman clenched the edge of his desk. He was so shocked and angry that he could scarcely speak. The idea that the Nazis would use innocent people as human shields was beyond repugnant. The report from Allen Dulles had reached him within hours after he had met with Hahn and had been confirmed by camera-carrying airplanes flying over the area.

General Marshall put down a copy of one of the photos. The quality was poor since it had been sent by wire. Better copies were coming, but would take at least a day. These showed the outlines of camps and barracks just as Hahn had said. There was no way that Bregenz could be bombed without the slaughter of great numbers of innocents. Already he was catching hell for using the atomic bomb on Japan despite the fact that destroying those two cities had effectively ended the war and likely saved hundreds of thousands of American lives. That millions of Japanese had been saved from slow, awful deaths from starvation was also forgotten or ignored by many people.

“How many options are left, General?”

“Not that many. We keep nibbling at them, but it’s your decision whether or not to continue planning on a massive attack.”

“Keep planning. The bleeding hearts who don’t seem to recognize that war means killing people will accept civilian battle casualties rather than bombing casualties. Well, that’s too bad. If the innocent people in Bregenz are harmed, it will be on Goebbels’ head.”

“I assume that a negotiated settlement is still out of the question.”

“It is, although I will accept, even authorize, the escape of any of the higher-ups in the Nazi command. If we can in get the chief rats to leave the ship, then maybe the little rats and assorted vermin will follow. Dulles is right. We can always catch them later. We can use the OSS or whatever organization succeeds it to help search for them wherever they might find refuge.” He smiled tightly, angrily. “In the meantime, we will also prepare for
other
extreme measures.”

* * *

Winnie clutched Ernie’s arm and watched intently as the steady trickle of humanity left Germany. It seemed strange to not refer to the area as Germanica, but even the Nazis had buried the term. Now, if only they could bury the Nazis, she thought.

A sedan pulled up to the German side of the gate. German soldiers wearing SS armbands pushed other people out of the way. Winnie held her breath. “The short guy is Captain Diehl,” Ernie said. “He’s a real monster. What happened to Marie and Sven was his fault.”

She gasped as two people were led out of the car and towards the gate. They leaned on each other for support. They would have fallen otherwise. Neither Diehl nor any other soldiers offered to help. She wanted to cry.

And then they were through. Winnie started to run but Ernie grabbed her arm. “Hold back. Walk up to them and greet them warmly. Do not let the bastards see how concerned you are.”

She nodded and let Ernie guide her. Marie and Sven had stopped and were standing, looking around. They were confused. They didn’t know what had happened or where they were. Winnie quickly walked the last few steps and grabbed Marie’s arms.

“Marie, it’s me, Winnie. You’re safe. Sven’s safe, too.” But badly hurt, she could tell. He was barely conscious.

Recognition dawned. “Winnie, what’s happening to us? Where are we?”

“It’s over, Marie. You’re in Switzerland.”

Marie gasped and sagged. She would have fallen if Winnie hadn’t grabbed her. Ernie had already taken control of Sven and was heading him towards a parked ambulance. A small hospital served Arbon. They would stay there until they were strong enough to travel to Bern and then out of the country. It would also allow a chance to debrief them. Neither Winnie nor Ernie wanted to hear the grisly details of their imprisonment, but it had to be done. Diehl and Hahn might get away this time, but a strong case would be built up against them. When caught, they would either spend the rest of their lives in prison or be hanged. Sven and Marie’s war was over.

* * *

“Now what do we do?” asked Hummel. Before them and below them lay the deep blue waters of Lake Constance. They were dug in on a hill to the north of Bregenz and along the coast. It was heavily wooded and they hoped it made them invisible. They knew better, of course, and made every effort to hide what they had done. Even so, they froze when American planes flew overhead—which they did with regularity. Both men, along with the rest of their unit that now numbered a dozen, longed to smoke a cigarette. They had been warned, however, that smoking in a forest was not a good idea for several reasons. First, it might start a fire and, second, keen eyes might spot wisps of smoke lifting into the sky. The same applied to smoking at night where the glow of a cigarette could be seen or the striking of a match create a sudden flare.

They also quickly realized that this meant that warming or cooking food would be next to impossible. Cold rations would be the menu for the foreseeable future. Nobody was happy, but it beat getting strafed or bombed.

A battery of four 88mm guns was dug in several hundred yards to their right and another to their left. When the shooting finally started, they planned on being as far away as possible from those guns. American retaliation would be savage and overwhelming. They had even gone so far as to dig bunkers two hundred yards behind their main position and in an area where the hills hid them from prying eyes on the lake.

Lieutenant Pfister crawled into the foxhole with Hummel and Schubert, who was staring at the lake and smiling. It was a beautiful scene and they hoped it gave Schubert some peace of mind. Although he seemed to be gradually getting better, he occasionally suffered minor setbacks.

“Too bad we can’t arrange for Schubert to be surrendered to the Yanks,” said Hummel. “He might get proper treatment from them.”

“Or they might just shoot him. We don’t know what they do with crazy people. If we could surrender him, perhaps we could arrange for us to surrender as well. You do realize that we’re about as far from the American lines as we can get? I wouldn’t mind going on holiday here in the mountains, but that is out of the question thanks to dear, dead Adolf Hitler.” Pfister didn’t even bother to look around to see if anyone was listening in on them. The SS rarely showed up at the front lines anymore.

Pfister now commanded a company consisting of twenty men. He’d earlier informed Hummel that he might get a battlefield commission. Hummel had told him to shove the commission—which resulted in gales of laughter from Pfister.

Hummel nodded and continued to look through his binoculars. An American gunboat patrolled a couple of miles off shore. It was within easy range of German artillery, but they would not fire and give away their positions or waste ammunition. The squat little craft might have been a tugboat at one point in its life. It had since been heavily armored and rode low in the water. It also had a 155mm artillery piece pointing at the German shore. So far it was the only American vessel they’d seen, but they thought there would soon be others. Their future was grim.

Pfister tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the sky. Contrails were visible. The Americans were watching from on high. No bombs were dropping. Apparently the informal truce was still holding. Both he and Hummel thought the use of human shields was repugnant but was far better than being bombed to oblivion. They also agreed that whatever fools thought you could apply rules to warfare were out of their minds. Survival was a soldier’s foremost goal. To hell with bravery and glory and doing the right thing, was the common thought.

“Lieutenant, so what do we do besides wait for them to attack us?”

“Would you rather attack them? At least we’re alive for the moment, while doing something foolish would be absolute suicide.”

Hummel laughed softly. “Maybe we could build ourselves a very small boat and row out to the Americans, or maybe go along the coast to Switzerland.”

“And maybe both sides would blow us out of the water without asking questions. No, I urge you to forget any ideas like that.”

“Lieutenant, do you realize that you merely urged me; you didn’t order me.”

It was Pfister’s turn to laugh. “Hummel, we’ve come too far for that sort of nonsense. I just want to live long enough to see my grandchildren grow up. Of course I first have to survive this war and then find someone foolish enough to marry me before I can have children, much less grandchildren.”

* * *

It took a long time to get an infantry division on the road and, when it finally did, the caravan of trucks, artillery, cars went on forever. Pilots in spotter planes, the military’s version of the Piper Cub, said it looked like an olive drab tapeworm that had no beginning or end. The division was headed towards the German city of Oberlingen, which was on the northern coast of Lake Constance. The U.S. Seventh Army was firmly ensconced in the city. From there, rumor had them moving down the coast to Friedrichshafen or even Lindau, which was only a couple of miles from Bregenz.

Nor were they alone on their trek. The Tenth Mountain Division was heading for the same location, only taking different roads. Tanner had a sneaking idea that the Tenth would be attacking up the hills while the 105th moved along the coast. It seemed like a decent plan and nobody had come up with a better idea.

Maps and photographs told Tanner and the others what they would be facing. There was a narrow strip of what could even be called a beach that ran along the lake and inland for a few yards up to several hundred. In some areas there were narrow roads leading inland. Everywhere, however, were the steep and heavily wooded hills that ultimately led to the Alps. There would be no climbing the more rugged mountains, at least not by the men of the 105th, although they might have to climb some of the hills.

“Are you confident that you could make it to the top?” asked Tanner.

“Yes,” said Cullen. He was quiet and thoughtful and not his normal self. “I just don’t relish the idea with somebody shooting down at me or lobbing grenades as I try to haul my ass to the top.”

“We’ll probably have to carry full packs as well,” Tanner added.

“What great joy,” Cullen muttered. “Whatever happens I just want it to end the war with Mother Cullen’s oldest boy in one piece.”

Don’t we all? thought Tanner. What was a concern to everyone was the fact that brand new gas masks had been issued, replacing the ones the GIs had so cavalierly tossed away months earlier. And, unlike the past, there were strict orders for soldiers to have them in their possession at all times. Clearly, there was a serious suspicion that the Germans would introduce the horrible weapon as a desperation measure.

Tanner had seen photos from the last war of long lines of gassed soldiers who’d been blinded and were being led by the hand away from the trenches. Some soldiers survived, but many had died and others been seriously scarred, both mentally and physically. Back in the States, he’d seen a man in an army hospital coughing away what remained of his life, the victim of a gas attack a generation earlier. Adolf Hitler himself had been gassed and the consensus was that it was too bad he hadn’t been killed. Some gasses required the victim to inhale them, while others needed only a brief touch to the skin to kill.

Nor was gas particularly accurate. Once released as clouds of death, it went where it wished and as the wind blew it. It was like a mad dog that had been let loose among tethered sheep.

No wonder it was so dreaded. One of the smaller blessings was that Germany hadn’t introduced it, at least not yet and doubtless for fear of retaliation from enemies who controlled the skies. So what had changed? Was Germany so desperate that she would risk annihilation?

Then he had a thought that chilled him. What if it wasn’t the Germans who might introduce poison gas?

* * *

Sergeant Archie Dixon had gotten himself a brand new Sherman tank and he liked it. The tank was a vast improvement over the one the Germans had destroyed and taken so many of his crew with it. This new tank had a higher velocity 76mm gun and could likely handle anything the Germans had, with the exception of the Panther and Tiger series. But then, he thought with as much happiness as he allowed himself, the Nazis didn’t have any more of those beasts.

Along with a fresh tank, he had a newly minted crew and they all hated him, and this was fine by Archie. He’d lost one crew and didn’t want to lose another if he could possibly help it. Of the five men in the original crew, he was the only one to survive physically unscathed, although he’d spent some intense time talking to chaplains and psychiatrists before they would let him back into the war. The chaplains tried to commiserate with him and he thought that the head doctors were crazier than he had been. One of the things he now understood fully was
don’t ever become friends with the crew.
In his first tank, they had all been friends, buddies. They’d gone through basic and tank training and had become close. They’d partied together, chased women and fought as a team. Dixon had known all about their personal lives and what they wanted for a future. He’d known who had kids and whose wife was giving him a hard time and maybe sleeping with some damn 4-F.