“Makes sense,” said Truman. “Now for the big question, in light of the fact that the Nazis just destroyed Moscow and threatened to destroy a number of our cities, with additional bombs they may or may not have, do we cancel or postpone the Rhine crossings?”
All eyes turned to Marshall. He hesitated for a moment, sadness etched in his face. The inexperienced Truman was looking to him for leadership and his answer would send millions of American boys into hell. But then, a delay would give the Nazis more time to make bombs and to kill off the remnants of humanity dying in their concentration camps.
“No.”
Schurmer had moved his offices to a hidden base outside the devastation that used to be Frankfurt. He and his small staff were part of Field Marshal Model’s headquarters. As he saw it, the Rhine Wall was as complete as it was ever going to be. The Amis were bombing heavily and attempting to cut off the Rhine area from the rest of Germany. It was a tactic they had used in Italy and in Normandy and came as no surprise.
However, the sheer number of bombers was a shock. Was there no end to the parade of American B17, B24, and B25’s as they flew over the Rhine Valley? To the north, vast swarms of British Lancaster and Halifax bombers were doing their part to obliterate all that Schurmer had built. Worse, there were rumors that the Yanks were going to send over some of their monstrous B29 bombers.
Schurmer stood and gave an indifferent salute as Varner entered. “Heil Himmler, General.”
Varner grinned. “Go to hell, Colonel.”
“I think I’m already there, Ernst. The Americans and Brits are destroying all my handiwork and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. It doesn’t matter how well constructed my defenses are if they are pounded mercilessly. Sooner or later, something will have to give. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have one of those nuclear bombs on you, would you?”
Varner helped himself to some of Schurmer’s last bottle of scotch. “We had one and it’s gone. Worse, Heisenberg and a few of his key scientists have disappeared as well. We’ve heard nothing from them or from Skorzeny for that matter.
“Heisenberg was kind enough to leave his notes, but we don’t have the scientists who can decipher them and build a new bomb. A second bomb can be built over time, but we won’t have the luxury of time.”
“Does Himmler know this?”
Varner laughed bitterly. “Oh yes, but he and Goebbels are bluffing. We may have knocked Russia out of the war, but they’ll be back and the Americans are still here.”
“Ernst, aren’t the Yanks working on a bomb of their own?”
“I can say yes without betraying any secrets.”
“And would our bomb have fit in an American B29?”
“From what I know of the plane, yes.”
“Then have you heard that the B29 is heading to Europe?”
“Jesus,” Varner said, chilled at the thought of American bombers dropping nuclear weapons on a defenseless Germany. Photos of the devastation in Moscow were beginning to come from diplomatic and news sources and the effect was horrific, although not all that different from the flaming hell rained on Hamburg and other German cities.
“Thank you for making my day, Hans, but that’s not why I’m here. I am convinced that the main American attack will not come in the south, but will be in the north near Bonn. Unfortunately, I cannot find any proof. All the landing craft are in Patton’s area, and not in Simpson’s.”
Varner explained what pilots and spies had located. Schurmer’s eyes narrowed. He rose and closed the office door. “Tell me, when you became a general did you leave your brains behind? Where were you when the Yanks landed in Normandy?”
“Getting out of the hospital, as you well know.”
“Have you seen photos or newsreels of the landings?”
“A few. What are you driving at?”
Schurmer split the last of the scotch with his guest, unevenly as Varner noticed. What the hell, it was his bottle.
“Rundstedt and Himmler are transfixed by platoon-sized landing craft,” Schurmer said. “Did you ever hear of a ‘duck’? And no, I am not talking about a feathered creature that waddles on the ground and quacks; instead, I am talking about the creature that swims rather well. In this context, the word duck stands for an absurd abbreviation for a vehicle that is half boat and half truck.”
He stepped over to a wall shelf and pulled out a folder filled with photographs. “Look at this, General Varner.”
Varner paled. He saw scores of small landing craft heading for the Normandy shore in a photo taken by an incredibly brave German photographer.
“The Americans have thousands of these things and they hold a squad each,” Schurmer said. “Nor do they have to be hidden since they run on wheels when on land and act like a boat in water. They worked marvelously.”
“Dear God.”
“Don’t get religious, Ernst, it doesn’t become you. Here’s another picture. This is a Sherman tank attempting to swim to shore using flotation devices during the Normandy invasion. They didn’t work very well and almost all the tanks sank because the seas were too rough and they were dropped off too far from shore. Tell me, O newly anointed General, how rough is the Rhine and how far would they have to travel?”
“The water is as smooth as glass,” Varner said softly. “And the distance to cross will be relatively short. This means I’m right. The main attack won’t be in the south.”
Schurmer laughed harshly. “We’ve always said that we couldn’t stand up to American numbers and firepower, and that we needed the Rhine Wall to protect us. This shows that they can and doubtless will attack wherever they want and simply overwhelm our defenses. Dietrich’s reserve army, now heading south to confront Patton, will be ordered to reorient itself and head north to confront the true menace, which means it will be vulnerable to American planes.”
“Does Rundstedt know about this?”
“Of course, and he’s chosen to ignore it.”
Varner was aghast. “But why?”
Schurmer shrugged and gazed longingly at the empty bottle of Scotch. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
Colonel Tom Granville looked up in surprise at the thin young man who stood before him. “Phips, what the devil are you doing here and in my office? Aren’t you supposed to be in New York or someplace selling war bonds?”
“I can’t do that anymore, sir. Getting people to buy bonds might be a good idea for some, but I’m beginning to feel like a pimp. Also, I’m yesterday’s hero. Hitler’s been dead for a while now and the war’s still going on. Hell, sir, I’ve had people tell me it’s my fault that we’re still fighting.”
“Phips, does the Pentagon know you’re here?”
“No sir. I faked my way across by telling who I was and that I had verbal orders from Ike.”
“Good God, that’s a court-martial offense. Correction, that’s several of them. Why the devil did you do it?”
“Because of Stover, sir. His mother wrote me that they got word through the Red Cross that he’d died in a prison camp hospital after being shot down. I’ve talked with some people at State and in the OSS and they’re convinced that he was probably beaten to death after parachuting safely from his damaged plane. Maybe they even knew he was one of the guys who killed Hitler. I decided it wasn’t fair that I would be screwing around in American cities while my crewmen were dealing with danger. Colonel, I applied through channels and they all thought I was crazy.”
“Well, you are,” Granville said. Perhaps the boy had more balls then he’d originally thought. Still, there were problems. “What do you hope I will do?”