On Desperate Ground (11 page)

“It cannot be done,” exclaimed Himmler. “Army Group Vistula needs more fuel and ammunition brought up to the front lines. Two days is impossible.” Himmler removed his prince-nez glasses and polished them furiously, a sign of his nervousness.
 

“The
Reichsführer
knows the situation of Army Group Vistula better than anyone,” Hitler said. “I agree with his assessment.”

“We cannot wait until the last can of petrol and the last shell have been issued!” Guderian responded, “By that time the Russians will be too strong!”

“I will not allow you to accuse me of procrastination!” yelled Hitler.
 

Guderian ignored him, keeping his voice low and steady.

“I want General Wenck appointed as Army Group Vistula chief of staff. Otherwise there can be no guarantee the attack will be successful.”
 

Guderian gestured toward Himmler, still polishing his glasses. “The man cannot do it. How
could
he do it?”
 

“The
Reichsführer
is man enough to lead the attack on his own. How dare you criticize him!” Hitler’s voice rose even higher as he shook his good right hand at Guderian.
 

“I must insist that General Wenck be transferred to the staff of Army Group Vistula to lead the operation properly.”

“Never!” shouted Hitler, and the argument continued to rage.
 

Junior officers started, in their practiced fashion, to slip out of the room. Himmler remained silent, as accusations about his personal bravery flew about the room. Hitler raged at Guderian, shouting into his face, spittle spewing from his mouth. Suddenly, the argument ended, Hitler’s anger vanishing as if a bright light was switched off.
 

He walked over to Himmler and out of the blue said, “Well, Himmler, Wenck is going to Army Group Vistula tonight as chief of staff.” Turning to Guderian, Hitler said in a charming voice, “Today, the general staff has won a battle.”

The briefing ended shortly after that. Guderian and Wenck left immediately to prepare for Wenck’s departure to Army Group Vistula. Himmler also left, stung by the
Führer’s
withdrawal of his support. Fegelin struck up another conversation with Faust, stopping him from leaving with Guderian.
 

“Faust, join us over here. The
Führer
likes to unwind after these briefings. He likes you, did you know?”

“I am honored, Fegelin. But are you sure I am welcome? I don’t wish to appear presumptuous.”

“Not at all. The
Führer
likes new listeners, and you impressed him with your comments last time. Are you worried about not chasing after Guderian?” Faust bristled and Fegelin knew he had hit home with his comment.

“You know I am not one to chase after anyone, Fegelin. Lead on.”

Fegelin walked him to the soft leather chairs grouped around Hitler’s desk. Goering, Martin Bormann, Burgdorf, and several other aides were already seated. Hitler was describing the V-2 rockets being fired at London, Paris, Antwerp and Brussels.

“The V-2 is the first generation of rocket weapons we will unleash on the Allies. The A-10 model is being developed now with a range of 4,500 kilometers. We will be able to attack New York City and bring the war home to the Americans. The A-10 will carry a version of the V-2, and once in flight, it will launch the V-2 from the stratosphere. These vengeance weapons will shake the mongrel Americans with fear. They could never withstand the punishment the German people have taken. Or the British people for that matter.”

“Quite right, my
Führer
,” Bormann said. Martin Bormann, Nazi Party Chief, was always ready to say whatever his leader needed to hear. He had made himself indispensable by doing whatever Hitler needed and by agreeing with him totally.

“The English are close to our Aryan race, but the Americans have allowed too many inferior breeds to intermingle with them. They could never share the mastery of the world with us,” Hitler continued.
 

He relaxed into his chair and appeared to focus on something beyond the vision of those in the room. He spoke as if global victory was within his grasp, and the ruined gardens and destroyed city beyond the walls were all an illusion.

“My
Führer
, I was saying the same thing about the English to Colonel Faust,” Fegelin blurted, introducing Faust to the circle and ingratiating himself with Hitler at the same time.
 

“This morning a report came in from one of the British prisoner of war camps near Danzig. It was being evacuated to move the prisoners out of the…the, ah,” Fegelin stumbled over his words, not wanting to acknowledge directly that Russian forces were approaching so close to this eastern German city, “…operational area of the city’s defenses.” The evident relief on his face at having come up with such a non-descriptive turn of phrase made Faust smile.
 

“And one entire barracks of prisoners volunteered to join us in the fight against Bolshevism! Can you imagine, a British SS unit fighting alongside other Europeans against the threat from the east!”

“My dear Fegelin,” Hitler said, “we hear these flights of fancy repeatedly. This is probably an exaggeration brought on by a handful of prisoners motivated by nothing more than the prospect of extra rations.’’

“This report is real. With your permission, I could investigate and formulate a plan to recruit Allied prisoners of sufficient Aryan background. It would electrify the world to hear of former enemies united against the Communists. It would be a true European bulwark against Bolshevism! We already have Frenchmen, Danes, Norwegians and many others fighting with the SS. Colonel Faust has fought alongside many of them in the Brandenburg Division.”

Now Faust understood why Fegelin brought him into the
Führer’s
post-briefing circle. He had a plan to propose and wanted to offer Faust’s experiences to back him up. He knew the
Führer
would reject the Brandenburg Division as an example because of its past link with the traitorous Abwehr. But the
Führer
liked Faust, and that might allow Fegelin a moment’s consideration.

Hitler folded his hands in front of him and slowly nodded his head. The room was silent as the assembled waited to hear which way the
Führer
would decide. Fegelin clasped his hands behind his back, hiding his nervousness. He desperately wanted permission to leave Berlin, preferably headed west, away from the Russians. A tour of POW camps might do the trick.

“It would be a magnificent moment,” Hitler said somewhat dreamily, “but I refuse to be tempted by the statements of half a dozen Englishmen. If you can bring proof of more men willing to fight with us, Fegelin, then perhaps we can do something.”

It was a characteristic Hitler response. He did not say yes or no, but left the idea open in case it could work. Fegelin would now have to prove his case alone, as none of the others would wish to ally themselves with an idea the
Führer
might discount in the near future. They had not earned themselves a presence in these comfortable leather chairs, surrounding their beloved leader, by sticking their necks out.

Fegelin was trying to figure out how best to respond, when Faust spoke for the first time.

“There is another way to bring about that magnificent moment.”

In combat, there were times when Faust could see clearly and exactly what needed to be done to carry the day. No matter how loud the explosions or how fierce the enemy fire, he could find the exact moment to act. This was one of those moments. The chance would not come again. He knew exactly what to say next.

“I can make it happen.”

Fegelin moved back a half step to look at Faust, astounded by the calm pronouncement. Goering let out a sharp laugh, and Bormann never took his eyes off of Hitler.

 
“So a colonel will win the war for us?” Goering asked sarcastically.
 

“Only the
Führer
can win the war for us,” said Faust, looking directly at Hitler. “But I can put a plan in his hands to hasten the day.”

Faust stood still and waited. Hitler looked up from his seat and studied him, his eyelids heavy and hooded over his dark eyes.
 

“Tell us your plan, Colonel Faust.”

“Of course, my
Führer
. As you have pointed out, it would change everything to have the British and Americans engage the Russian forces in combat, but we know that recruiting volunteers from POW camps is a fantasy that will gather nothing but a few malcontents.”

“Faust, I must protest!” Fegelin shouted, waving his arms in frustration.
 

“Quiet, Fegelin!” Fegelin visibly winced at his
Führer’s
remonstrance, then shrank back. “Faust is correct. We should not expect anything from efforts to recruit these volunteers. Now, continue.”

“If the British and the Americans will not come to us to fight the Russians, then we must bring the Russians to them.”

“Are you seriously suggesting we allow the Allied forces to join together?” Goering said incredulously.

“Not precisely. Instead of dreaming about British volunteers, we simply need to look to our own forces for ample Russian troops. We have large numbers of
Hilfswillige
serving with our divisions on the eastern front. I propose we select a sufficient number of Hiwis, led by German officers, and train and outfit them as Russian troops. This will not be difficult, since they are already familiar with Russian weaponry.”

“And these Russians will engage the British?” Burgdorf asked.

“No. The Americans.” It was Hitler who answered, anticipating the response.

“Exactly my
Führer
,” Faust smiled. “That is the only area of operation where we have the required room to maneuver.”

The others in the room were confused, but Hitler seemed to be reading Faust’s mind.

“Show me,” Hitler said, jumping to his feet and going to the map table.
 

Faust considered his next move very carefully. The central point of his plan was to channel the American and Russian forces to a near meeting, which meant that Hitler would have to agree to a strategic withdrawal along both fronts. He had fired generals for suggesting much less, and shot them for not much more. Faust began to build his case.

“My plan is a last resort, my
Führer
. It will take advantage of the Allies’ momentum if the Wehrmacht fails to hold the borders of Germany. We will strike at them in a manner they never suspect. As you have said, the Allies are a weak coalition, and sooner or later they will come to blows.”

“When I attacked Poland in 1939 and the Soviet Union in 1941, I left the western defenses nearly empty. I knew the French and British would not attack, but it was a gamble!” Hitler’s voice rose in excitement, as he recalled his first military triumphs. “I was willing to gamble when all my generals spoke against me! The greater the prize, Faust, the greater the gamble. Now tell me what we would gain by cutting Germany in half.”
 

Faust saw his opening, drew a deep breath, and continued. “If the Russians approach Berlin, it will be stoutly defended. Every German will do his duty, and the Russians will break themselves upon our defenses. As with every strong defensive point, enemy forces tend to bounce off of it. Russian armored units will probably circle around each side of the city, heading roughly northwest and southwest.”

This was elementary military strategy, and Faust could see all his listeners were in agreement. Heads nodded as all eyes studied the map laid out on the table.

“North of the city, there are numerous lakes which break up the terrain. We will strongly defend the coastal cities on the Baltic Sea, and Russian units may focus on those. To the south though, there are 140 kilometers of flat land between Berlin and the Saxony mountains. That is where we should channel a limited advance of Soviet forces.”

“How far would you allow them to penetrate?”

“This area is opposite the current line of the American Ninth and First Armies. If they do not change their approach, it is likely that Patton’s Third Army will turn southeast towards Bavaria and Austria. We will need to watch the disposition of the U.S. Ninth Army, but our target will most likely be the First Army. We will need to encourage their route toward the Russian advance units.”

“And what will our pet Russian Hiwis do?” asked Fegelin sarcastically.

“They will be inserted between the two forces. If possible, we should also create a unit of English-speaking Germans, dressed in American uniforms, much like Skorzeny’s Panzer Brigade 150 in the Ardennes Offensive. Our Russians will attack the Americans, and our Americans will attack the Russians. We will inflict heavy casualties, leaving behind our own dead in Russian and American uniforms. Then, we watch as the two real enemy columns come into contact and continue fighting, each inflamed by the treachery of the other.”
 

“And then we come to the aid of the Americans!” Goering exclaimed as if the plan had suddenly just dawned on him.

“Yes,” hissed Faust, “and then fight shoulder to shoulder with them to break the siege of Berlin! The New World will come to the aid of the Old World to stand against the Red threat!” Faust surprised himself with his own enthusiasm as he slammed his fist down on the map table, scattering the colored pencil across the map and onto the floor.