A Nazi jet streaked across the sky and disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. A couple of American planes appeared to give chase, but they lost ground with each passing second. No bombs were dropped.
“What is he up to?” Carter asked.
“I assume he’s taking pictures,” Jack answered before Powell could respond.
They climbed out of the trench. “There’s a school of thought,” Powell said, “that we should let them take all the pictures they want just to show them what they’re up against. However, I don’t think they’ll scare very easily.”
Morgan didn’t think so either. “So, the 74th gets twelve of these. Who gets the rest?”
Powell looked surprised. “What rest? This is it. Didn’t you know?”
“Wait,” said Carter. “You telling me that this is all the 74th gets?”
Powell laughed. “To the best of my knowledge, this is all the entire 1st Army gets. For some reason, Patton’s 3rd Army doesn’t want any, and we aren’t sharing with the frogs, of course. There will be more, but, for the time being, these are all the Pershings in Europe. Congratulations, Captains, but you are it when it comes to taking on German armor.”
Heinrich Himmler did not like to leave Berlin and the perceived safety of the Chancellery building. Even though it had been the target of Allied bombers on several occasions, luck had held and damage was still minimal. Of course, if he wished to, he could retreat to Hitler’s vast underground bunker system. Himmler had considered that option but dismissed it. The place was damp and depressing, and moving underground smacked of cowardice. He would not move there until and if it became absolutely necessary.
Himmler and a small entourage traveled at night and in his private armored train, hiding on sidings during the day. They made it safely to the outskirts of Frankfurt. The city center had been badly bombed; thus, no suitable and secure facilities were available for him. Himmler needed no further reminders that Allied bombers and fighters ruled the skies.
They left the train and traveled by car to an estate once owned by a long ago disappeared Jewish family and now run by the SS as a rest area. Tomorrow, he would take a brief drive to the Rhine Wall. Himmler didn’t want to, but Goebbels had convinced him that pictures of him with soldiers at the front would help with morale. Rundstedt added that viewing the defenses first hand would help him understand just what the military was confronting.
Himmler was very nervous and worked hard to hide it. He didn’t like being so close to the enemy. He felt that men who were very brave often wound up very dead. While he did not think of himself as a coward, he felt that his place was in Berlin, organizing and running the Third Reich and not anywhere near the front lines.
He met with von Rundstedt and his staff, along with the Luftwaffe’s Galland and Canaris the spymaster. They assembled in a dining room that could have doubled as a medieval banquet hall. Himmler thought it was far too nice for a Jew to have ever owned.
“What happened to the people who lived here?” he whispered to an aide.
“Bought their way out before the war and went to Brazil.”
Himmler smiled. They had paid dearly for their lives. Excellent. Their money had helped fund Hitler. Belatedly, Himmler had come to the realization that it would have been far better to have allowed all the Jews to buy their way out, rather than the politically messy results of the Final Solution in places like Auschwitz. Of course, many countries, including the falsely pious United States, had closed their doors to Jewish emigres. Hypocrites all, he thought.
“I would like you to see some of these photos, Reichsfuhrer,” Rundstedt said. “These were just taken by pilots flying over American lines.”
Varner handed them over. Himmler nodded briefly as he tried to identify objects on the ground. “What am I looking at?”
“A number of things,” said Rundstedt. “First, these are pictures of several incredibly vast supply depots that the Americans are building up in anticipation of the invasion of Germany. They are spread up and down the length of the Rhine, which gives us no clue as to their intended target. Still, look at the enormous number of tanks and other armored vehicles, which include a handful of a new and very large tank that we believe is their Pershing. It is designed to counter the Panther.”
Himmler sniffed. “A handful? That is hardly a threat.”
“At one point there were only a handful of their dreadful Shermans,” Rundstedt said acidly, “and now there are tens of thousands, and that will be the case with this new tank within a year from now. And I’m certain it will be better than the Sherman since the Americans almost always learn from their mistakes.”
Himmler nodded. “Then the war must be over sooner. Now, what is this?” he asked as he picked up other photos.
Varner pointed. “These are the American defenses along the Rhine. They aren’t very deep and they aren’t well hidden. They know we can do nothing about them and that we don’t have the capability to counterattack across the river.”
“Which brings us to a point, Herr Himmler,” Rundstedt said, intentionally not using his rank. “There is one important thing missing from all these photos and that is landing craft. The Americans will require hundreds of them to cross the river in force. Either they aren’t there yet, or they are very well hidden. It is also possible that the craft are still in France, or even in England and will be moved to the Rhine at the last minute.”
Himmler turned to Canaris. “Well?”
“Our sources in either country say nothing, although I will push them for more intelligence,” the admiral answered. “However, please recall that on January 9 the Americans landed in the Philippines in force. This must have required a large number of the platoon-sized landing craft called LCVI’s, many of which would have to be transported here if they are going to be used in a crossing.”
“Could they do it without those craft?” Himmler inquired.
“With great difficulty,” Rundstedt answered. “Their only other option would be to use hundreds, perhaps thousands, of truly small boats and we’ve scoured both sides of the Rhine for anything that could float and be used. During our withdrawal, we destroyed any craft we found along all of the rivers. While we can’t totally discount the possibility of them making small craft locally, I don’t think it’s feasible. No, I think they will have to have landing craft.”
“What about paratroops?” Himmler asked.
Rundstedt laughed. “We almost wish they would. Intelligence says they have five airborne divisions, four American and one British. The British division is being rebuilt after the disaster at the Seine. We are well prepared for a paratroop attack, although, again, they would have to have large numbers of transports and gliders to fly such a horde and there are no indications that they exist in such quantities.”
Himmler walked to the stone fireplace where a pile of logs burned. The warmth felt good.
“Who took the pictures?”
Galland smiled. “Some of our brave pilots flying our jet fighters, which were configured to be photographic platforms.”
“If our jets can cross American bases with such impunity, why don’t we drop bombs on them?” Himmler asked.
Galland flushed. “Our jet is not designed to carry bombs. Hitler originally wanted it used as a long-range bomber, but it would have been able to carry only a small bomb load, so the idea was scrapped. In the final analysis, it was not considered feasible or even useful.”
Himmler understood. Once again the military had changed Hitler’s directive after his death, and his field marshals and admirals had all said it was for the good. Still, it galled him to have the finest army in the world and no air force to protect it. Galland had insisted and Rundstedt had concurred, that the Americans and British had such vast fleets of planes that what remained of the Luftwaffe would be overwhelmed. The respite caused by winter would allow for the production of what would have been a large number of planes just a few years earlier, but the Americans’ ability to produce weapons of all kinds and in such huge quantities had been a staggering and unwelcome discovery. For every plane or tank Germany produced, America turned out a half dozen.