Germanica

CHAPTER 17

Brigadier General John Broome returned Tanner’s salute and waved him to a chair. “Get some coffee and have a seat. Close the door while you’re at it.”

Tanner was apprehensive. This was the first time he had had anything other than perfunctory greetings. He thought he’d done a good job for the late General Evans, but who knew what Broome might want out of him?

Tanner passed on the coffee and the general got quickly to the point. “Captain, when you first arrived and General Evans set your group up as a quasi-independent unit, I admit that I was less than thrilled. It was his prerogative, of course, but it was unusual and that offended my very orderly military mind. When I took over, I gave thought to bringing you more under the traditional structure. That would not have been a criticism. You’ve done well.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You know what they say-if it ain’t broke don’t fix it. Well, what we have here ain’t broke. I have no intentions of doing anything that would disrupt a well-running headquarters, especially with the end of the war so close, and, God, I do hope it is close. Ergo, there is no reason for a new Broome to sweep clean,” he said, laughing at his own joke. Tanner winced.

“We all hope so, sir.”

“You planning on staying in?”

“No, sir.”

“Which brings up another point. This man’s army is being emasculated by this very confusing point system that lets our best men get discharged. Experienced and qualified soldiers are being sent home and replaced by troops who don’t know how to wipe their own asses. It’s a helluva way to win a war. And the Krauts know all about it, don’t they?”

“Yes, sir. Some of the men we’ve captured were openly hoping that our army would fall apart as a result. I’ve got to admit that some of the men we’ve gotten as replacements are pretty bad.”

“Like that Oster fellow? That poor puppy shouldn’t have been in any man’s army. His draft board should all have been drafted and sent to work cleaning latrines with their teeth. I know that the point system is supposed to build morale by showing that there was an end to this long and winding road. Instead, it’s helped make the troops we have pull back and not go into combat with the efficiency and aggressiveness they used to have. I’m sure you know how many points you have.”

“Of course, sir, but they keep changing the rules. I’ll get out when they open the door and tell me to leave and go back to teaching college kids.”

“The way things are shaping up, you might have a lot of customers. I understand Truman and Marshall are thinking of having the government pay for veterans’ tuition under some kind of plan. It’s a good idea if you ask me and it will mean millions of our men and women getting an education rather than going out and looking for jobs that don’t exist. That’s what happened when the last war ended and it helped cause the Great Depression.” Broome shook his head. “Enough of a lecture from me. Get out of here and take your young lady someplace nice, if you can find one.”

Tanner was surprised that the general knew about Lena. “I guess there are no secrets in this man’s army, sir.”

“None whatsoever, Captain. It’s worse than a small town full of old ladies.”

* * *

He was only in his mid-forties but looked and felt decades older. His once decent suit and shoes were dirty and tattered and he was hungry. It was a far cry from the position of power and respect he’d held in Berlin only a few months earlier. Now, he was a fugitive and he wanted to stop running. There was, however, no place to hide. Hitler was dead and Germany was devastated. American soldiers were everywhere and didn’t even bother to glance at him with anything more than contempt.

He was in what had once been the proud city of Bonn. Now it was a ruin. It was time to stop running. His only choice was to give up.

He strode up to an American sergeant who was just standing around and taking in the desolation. “Excuse me, but can you direct me to your military intelligence?”

The sergeant laughed. “Ain’t no such thing, Mister.”

He caught the joke and smiled. “Then how about your military police?”

He was given directions to, no surprise, a former city police station. Inside, a bored MP corporal looked him over. “What can I do for you?”

He drew himself up to attention. “I would like to speak to your commanding officer. I think he will find that it is important.”

A couple of moments later, a stocky major appeared. He was not pleased at being interrupted. “So what am I going to find so important?”

“I believe you have lists of important people who have not yet been apprehended. I think it is very likely I am on those lists. I would also like to be put in touch with one of the local Alsos teams.”

The major blinked. He had orders to cooperate fully with the Alsos teams. There was one only a couple of miles away, scrounging through the ruins of some scientific facility.

The major was much friendlier now. “Who shall I say wishes to speak with them?”

“My name is Werner Heisenberg and I am a scientist, a physicist.”

* * *

“I see water.”

“Not yet,” Hummel said gently to the still confused Schubert. Every day, Schubert seemed to be getting better, if only so slightly. The bombings had not abated, but they no longer appeared to bother the mentally unbalanced man. Nor had any of them struck as closely as the one that had damaged Schubert’s mind and nearly killed them both. Hummel wondered if his friend’s periods of lucidity were because he was already at the bottom of his mind and could fall no farther.

Their trek from Innsbruck had to be almost over. Lieutenant Pfister kept telling them that Lake Constance should be visible just over the next hill, or the next one. Someday he’d be right. Someday the world would end, too, and someday pigs would fly, thought Hummel.

Their journey had been agony. They’d traveled by night and hidden as best they could during the day. It hadn’t taken long for the Americans to figure out where the troops withdrawing from the Innsbruck area were headed. The long columns of German soldiers had been bombed incessantly, leaving bloody and smoldering clumps of carnage along the trail.

American bombers dropped their loads from on high with little apparent regard for the existence of actual targets. The Americans understood that the Germans were hiding during the day and moving west at night. Thus, anything that looked like it could hide troops, like a forest, was bombed with explosives and napalm.

During the day, American fighter-bombers followed the trail that would lead to the lake or Bregenz. The attacks were incessant. American planes circled like hawks looking for mice. “And we’re the mice,” Pfister commented where only Hummel could hear.

There had been little food for the men and their clothes were rags. Their shoes and boots were falling off. Pfister had wondered if this was what it had been like when Napoleon’s men had retreated from Moscow or when the Germans had retreated from everywhere in the Soviet Union. At least it wasn’t snowing and icy, they decided, and gave sardonic thanks for small favors. And thanks to the mountain runoffs, clean, fresh water was not an issue.

The sound of a car horn blaring jarred them out of their exhausted reveries. They quickly moved off the road as a large Mercedes sedan bore down on them, going at a high rate of speed over the narrow dirt road.

“The driver’s insane,” said Pfister as they moved farther off the road and into a stand of trees.

“In more ways than one,” said Hummel. “There must be a score of Yank planes looking at the cloud of dust the car is churning up. The fool is just asking to be killed.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have much choice, Hummel. Maybe the poor driver has been ordered to drive that way by someone who outranks him. In which case, it’s the man or men in the back seat who are to blame. I will bet you that the driver is crapping his pants and looking up at the skies.”

Hummel agreed. The car was only a couple hundred yards ahead of them when a bird of prey, an American P51, shrieked down from the skies and strafed the car. The driver must have sensed his danger because he began swerving wildly and trying to escape.

The driver evaded the fighter’s first pass and stopped the car. He jumped out and ran into the woods. The occupants of the back seat were halfway out when a second American P51’s bullets minced the vehicle. It exploded and a ball of flame rose into the sky.

“If the driver has any sense at all he will lie low for a while,” said Pfister. The driver did. They waited a number of minutes. The Yanks again flew over, looking to see if anyone had either survived or come out into the open.

When they thought it was safe, Pfister yelled for the driver to come to them if he was able. He was. A few minutes later, a thoroughly shaken middle-aged corporal made it to them and collapsed. They gave him some of their water and a cigarette. He identified himself as Herman Farbmann, and said that he had been driving for General Lothar Rendulic, commander of all forces east of Innsbruck and titular second in command of all German forces in Germanica.

Pfister looked at Hummel who nodded. “I’ll take a look, Lieutenant. Just watch the skies for me.”

The car was still smoldering. Two bodies lay half out of it. One was a badly burned man in the remnants of a uniform and the other was naked and charred and might have been a woman. A few rags of bright cloth fluttered near her now sexless body. There was also a scorched leather briefcase, which Hummel took. In the event it contained anything important, it could not be kept by the side of the road.

“Yes, it was General Rendulic,” Farbmann said later as he sipped some brandy they’d found on another body earlier that day. “The fool said we had to wait for his mistress to get ready and the lazy self-centered bitch was impossible to get going. Her idea of getting up early was launching her ass out of bed about noon. I would have left her, but the general worshipped her. I urged the general to hurry, that the Americans had planes overhead watching all the time, but he laughed at me and said I was a coward. I guess he wanted to show the woman just how brave a German general was. Are you impressed by his bravery, Lieutenant? I’m certainly not.”

Pfister stood. He kept the briefcase. It was locked and he didn’t open it. If it contained secrets, he didn’t want to see them. “I think we should begin marching west again. At any rate, we should get away from this site. The Yanks are likely to come visiting again. We’re not that far from Bregenz or Lake Constance. Are you joining us, Corporal?”

“I’m honored, sir. Just curious, though. How far away is Bregenz?”

Pfister smiled engagingly. “Why, Corporal, it’s just over the next hill.”

* * *

Josef Goebbels shook his head sadly. It had been confirmed. Lothar Rendulic had been killed, murdered by American assassins. They would not keep it a secret. Too many people already knew about it. It was ironic that Rendulic was an Austrian and not a proper German. That point, however, was a small one. What to do with his portion of the army was the real question.

Field Marshal Schoerner sat across the room from Goebbels. Since they were in a cave there were no windows and Goebbels had the feeling that he was in a prison cell. Would this be his life if the Americans got their hands on him? That could not happen. He would rather die. He already had a cyanide pill in his pocket and was not afraid to use it. Now that the children were safe, he could concentrate on his own fate and that of Magda. In his opinion, she could bloody well do whatever she wished with her life. Whatever fondness he’d once felt for her was gone and not likely to return.

Schoerner removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Minister, I do not think it is necessary that we do much of anything about the army’s reorganization. So much of Rendulic’s forces had been turncoat Russians and Croats and so much had been whittled down by the fighting for Innsbruck that there really aren’t that many purely German units left. Once again, they are mere remnants. I propose getting them as close to Bregenz as possible and constituting them as a rear guard with General Warlimont in command.”

“All right,” Goebbels said softly. “We’re slowly being strangled. What I once said about preserving the seeds of Nazism is turning out to be terribly wrong. We’ve lost a third of our army, which was already vastly outnumbered in the first place, and much of the territory that we so confidently called Germanica.”

“But what we have left will be easier to defend.”

Goebbels stood and began to pace, quickly aware that the office was so small that he had no room to maneuver. Just like his army, he thought wryly, hemmed in by Jewish-dominated Americans who wanted to destroy him. At least the children were safe and Magda would soon be leaving for Bregenz, but not for the compound she and the children had recently occupied and had now been taken over by the Americans. He had initially been furious when he realized he’d been talking to an American spy at the family quarters in Arbon but later saw the humor in it.

His mind had wandered and he belatedly realized that Schoerner had been talking about tanks. “Repeat that, please,” Goebbels said.

“I was saying that the compressed Germanica will be easier to defend. I have already given orders to those remaining armored units to pull back and form a mobile defense force in Bregenz. Sadly, there are only about fifty tanks left. The idea of using them in fixed fortifications has proven to be a disaster. These remaining few would have to be thoroughly hidden.” Goebbels understood the logic. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could emerge and smash an overconfident American attack, thus buying the Reich some more time.

But time for what? Dr. Esau had insisted that his atom bomb would be ready shortly. Would that change matters? The Americans had proven that they had at least two bombs while Esau insisted that the best he could do was manufacture one. Goebbels believed the man. They would have to use their one bomb wisely.

Goebbels shook his head. Germany stood alone. A devastated and thoroughly cowed Japan lay prostrate and ready to be crushed by an American heel. Nor did Germany have any defenses against America’s overwhelming air power. The Americans were destroying antiaircraft batteries in a manner that defied logic. His engineers said they had developed some way of using their radar to figure out the source of an antiaircraft gun and killing it. They tried to explain the science to him, but he couldn’t comprehend it. All he understood was that his hopes for the future were being destroyed. The Americans were gathering strength for an all-out push that would end all dreams of survival.

“Tell me, Field Marshal: are people angry or jealous that my wife and children will be safe?”

“They are. While there aren’t many families here in the Redoubt, there are some. May I suggest that you arrange with our Swiss friends to let them cross the border?”

“Are you suggesting that women and children should leave the sinking ship first?”

“I am.”

Goebbels pondered for only a moment. If nothing else it would get rid of a number of “useless mouths” who ate food and took up places in shelters. “And what do you suggest we do about our captive workers?”

Schoerner grimaced and shrugged. “It almost doesn’t matter. There are only a few thousand of them remaining. Most have died while working and others have been executed by the SS. If we attempt to execute them all, it is unlikely that our soldiers will comply. They do not want to be labeled as war criminals any more than anyone else does. If we leave them to starve, there is the very real chance that they will escape and either fight for the Yanks or at least provide assistance to them. Again, when the Americans come, anyone who imprisoned them could be accused of war crimes.”

“Schoerner, give me a suggestion, not a speech.”

“Simple, Minister, just turn them loose and point them in the direction of Switzerland or the Americans, whichever is most convenient. Let them complain about the way they were treated to their heart’s content. It won’t matter. If the Americans win, we’ll be dead, and if a miracle occurs and we are victorious, they will be silent. No one could prosecute us as leaders of a sovereign nation if we win.”

“I suppose that pushing them into Lake Constance and letting them drown would offend the Swiss.”

Schoerner grinned. “It would indeed.”

“We have other prisoners as well. We might as well free them too, the lucky bastards.”

Schoerner left and closed the door behind him. A handful of secretaries was at work accomplishing little. It was not lost on him that of the three generals who would now command what remained of the German army, only Schoerner could be depended upon. Warlimont was still suspected of being sympathetic to the cause of those who’d tried to murder Hitler the previous summer, while Vietinghoff had been openly negotiating with the Americans. That the negotiation was with the Reich’s approval was irrelevant. He was tainted.

Goebbels had to wonder if Schoerner was as true to the cause as he said. Or would he disappear one night and find sanctuary in another country? It likely wouldn’t be Argentina, at least not at first. Too damn many Nazis now in Argentina. And Goebbels wondered just where he would go if the situation called for it. How do you hide an ugly man with a club foot?

Then he recalled Schoerner saying something about having “other prisoners.” Of course, Schoerner had other, higher-value, prisoners. This was something that he should have thought of. Perhaps they did have some bargaining chips after all.

* * *

Captain Ted Fulton of the provost marshal’s office was furious. “Captain Tanner, I had a clear understanding with General Broome that nothing, absolutely nothing, was to be done about reconnoitering that compound without my permission. Did he not make that clear to you?”

Tanner straightened up and stretched. He had been leaning over a large map of the area that was spread over an equally large table and his back was stiff. He’d met Fulton only once and he’d seemed like decent sort, which meant that the outburst was a little surprising. Maybe he was somewhat in love with himself because of the power wielded by the provost marshal’s office, but that was nothing anybody took seriously.

“Captain Fulton, I assure you that I had no such understanding with the general because the general said absolutely nothing to me about it other than to tell me that the compound in question would, if necessary, be raided by men from this division. He further said absolutely nothing about prohibiting patrols or sending men out to reconnoiter an unknown area. This, of course, would be the prudent thing to do before sending in troops.”

Fulton’s face sagged. “But I told him what to tell you about not doing that.”

Tanner laughed. “Maybe, just maybe, generals don’t like being told what to do by mere captains like us, even though you live with the gods at the provost marshal’s. More likely, however, he’s just busy like I am and up to his ass in alligators and just forgot. Or maybe he thought I was smart enough to use my discretion. You are aware that we’ve gotten word to move the whole division back the way we came and go elsewhere in this fairytale land.”

“I heard,” Fulton said glumly. “Okay, that’s over and what’s done is done and I’ve thrown my tantrum. Would you mind telling me what your man found out?”

Tanner sat down on a folding chair. He waved his arm imperiously and a grinning private brought two cups of coffee. “My man reconnoitering the compound is Staff Sergeant Billy Hill and he could snake his way anywhere without being detected. He’s a longtime tracker and hunter from the hills of Alabama. His hobby is killing Germans. When you meet him, whatever you do, don’t piss him off.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Hill confirmed that the compound consists of a large but damaged church with a number of outbuildings and tents. Temporary roofs are over some other damaged buildings. He couldn’t see inside, of course. He satisfied himself with looking at the arrangement through some excellent binoculars he took off a German he killed in North Africa. He saw a number of men in what looked like American uniforms going in and out of the buildings. There are, or were, a dozen or so military trucks parked there and there are a number of American flags staked out to keep our planes away.”

Fulton nodded. “The flags mean nothing. You can buy them at Woolworth’s.”

“However, there isn’t a Woolworth’s or a Kresge’s, or even a Macy’s anywhere near here. He said the flags looked handmade, which also doesn’t prove a thing.”

“How many guards?”

“Hill saw only five or six, although there could be more out of sight. Now, what do you have for me?”

Fulton took a deep breath. “This is the ugly part. I have very discreetly queried all units in the area and nobody knows anything about this facility. Somehow it just popped up there one day and, since it looked official, nobody cared or asked. It’s in a highly secluded area and it was only blind luck that we discovered it. Some guys from your division went hunting or scrounging or stealing stuff and saw it. They got curious and they had unanswered questions so they finally got to us.”

Tanner waved for a coffee refill. What he really wanted was a nap. “So what’s your best guess?”

Fulton shrugged, “Deserters or black marketeers or both. There are thousands of deserters from the U.S., French, and British Armies wandering around and stealing everything they can. Some may be trying to blend in with the locals, but the majority are nothing more than crooks. And yes, they can become violent.”

“What about German deserters, or actual criminals who’ve been released from concentration camps?”

“Again, anything’s possible. We sometimes forget that there were real criminals in many of the Nazi prisons, people who’d been convicted of murder, theft, arson, rape, and a host of other crimes that had nothing to do with anyone being persecuted for their religion. When we overran the prisons, those guilty people were freed along with the innocent.

“And don’t forget that God only knows how many tons of food and equipment have been stolen by criminal bands. We’ve heard rumors that they are into kidnapping and extortion to keep the locals quiet about their presence.”

“Was your source a local?” Tanner asked.

“Don’t ask. Now, what do you have planned?”

“What I have is an under strength and chewed up company of a hundred and twenty men led by a first lieutenant who commands because his captain got badly wounded. The company has its quota of machine guns and I managed to get two M5 tanks attached to it.”

The M5 was a lighter tank with only a 37mm cannon. It was no match for most of the newer German tanks. Tanner thought they would do quite well against the damaged walls and canvas coverings at the compound.

Tanner continued. “There are three ways in and out of the compound; therefore, I suggest that we don’t split the force up. Each part would be too small to defend itself and would be vulnerable if the bad guys decide to fight their way out. I want to hit them up front and hard and if some of them escape down the other roads we’ve identified, then so be it. You can scoop them up some other time.”

“Sounds fair. How soon can your men be ready?”

“They are ready to go right now. Let them take a leak or whatever they want and we can roll in fifteen minutes. It’s about an hour to the compound and it’s just after 0800. The sooner the better, is my suggestion.”

* * *

It took closer to two hours to get the column on the road and moving. The tanks did not slow them down. They could do almost forty miles an hour on a decent road and this dirt road had not been bombed. Sergeant Hill had placed himself on heavily wooded high ground overlooking the target and every few minutes radioed in that nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There was a gated entrance several hundred yards down an access road from the main road, but it didn’t look like much of a barrier. One man was stationed there to deter anyone from coming in.

As they approached the cutoff, the column slowed and then stopped. They made one last call to Hill. “Nothing’s happening,” he said. “It’s as quiet as a church on a Tuesday afternoon.”

“Go,” Tanner ordered and the column made a left turn onto the narrow and tree lined access road.

In a couple of moments they could see the gate and an astonished man in an American uniform staring at them. He unslung his rifle and opened fire. Tanner had the sickening feeling that the sentry didn’t realize that the trucks and tanks approaching him were American. White stars and the letters “USA” were on the sides but not the front.

Two more men ran out of the church, paused and looked at the trucks and opened fire. Tanner breathed a sigh of relief. The men shooting at them might be Americans, but they certainly weren’t friendly. A few bursts from truck-mounted.30 caliber machine guns sent them running.

The column of trucks stopped and American soldiers poured out of them. They formed up and, along with the tanks, moved on the buildings. Several defenders came out, saw the overwhelming force that was coming at them, and threw up their hands. Others ran towards the road at the rear of the compound, pursued by machine-gun bullets and 37mm shells from the tanks.

The skirmish had taken seconds. There were no casualties among the attackers and only two among the defenders. One man was dead and another slightly wounded.

Tanner ordered a platoon and one tank to go down the rear road and try to capture those trying to escape. As he and Fulton had agreed, their pursuit would not be too vigorous. If someone got away, they could be rounded up later. The big thing was to break up whatever was going on in the compound.

The church came first. It was the largest building and they gasped as they saw the piles of military supplies stacked to the ceiling where pews might have been. Everything was there: rifles, pistols, ammunition, machine guns and even uniforms. They could equip their own army if they so wished.

In another building they found rations, enough to feed a good-sized town for a week or more. In one of the smaller buildings they found a cache of medical supplies including the rare and expensive super-drug, penicillin. This infuriated Fulton, who wondered how many GIs had gone without the precious medicine because it was sitting here waiting to be sold to the highest bidder.

Hill had joined Tanner while Fulton and his cadre of military police tried to make sense of their find.

“So who are these guys, sir?” Hill asked.

“My money is that most of them are American deserters. Some of the ones we caught were so dumb that they were still wearing their dog tags. They’ll be breaking rocks at Leavenworth until they’re ninety. I will also bet you that some supply officers at bases here in Europe are going to start crapping their pants when they find out about this raid. A lot of it can be traced back to specific units, which means that men got paid off to let this stuff disappear. Some stockades are going to be crowded.”

“I wonder if anybody got hurt or killed during the thefts,” said Tanner.

“Same here,” said Fulton. “If they’ve committed murder, I hope they hang. What I wonder now is who the buyers were. I can think of a lot of countries that would like to get their hands on all these supplies. French and Italian communists come to mind, and I wouldn’t rule out Jewish refugees who want to start their own country in Palestine. And hell, maybe the Arabs who want to stop the Jews. Anybody who wants to start their own war is a likely buyer.”

“Over here!” a soldier yelled. He was at a smaller outbuilding the size of a two-car garage.

The soldier looked shocked and stepped aside as Tanner entered. It took a moment for him to realize what he was seeing. Several dozen pairs of eyes stared back at him. They were all women and they were all naked. They were also tied up with their hands behind them. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see that their thin bodies were covered with sores and bruises. They moaned with fear when they saw him.

“Anybody here speak English?” he asked. Nothing for a second, then a woman about forty said she did. “Who are you and why are you tied up?” Tanner added. He was going to untie the women but not until he had a good idea what was going on.

“We are their slaves,” the woman said and spat on the dirt floor. “We are all good women from this area. We were kidnapped by the men you chased away, and used for their amusement. Some of us had husbands and fathers murdered by those scum.”

Fulton’s men arrived and, with Tanner’s agreement, began freeing them. The women began searching for articles of clothing they could use to cover themselves. “Fulton, would it matter a whole lot if they took some of the uniforms?”

“Sounds good to me. Why don’t you tell them?”

Tanner did and the women raced to the church and rifled through the boxes of uniforms. On their way, a dozen or so GIs were treated to a view until one of their officers told them to go away.

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?”