Tony turned to Carlson who nodded. “It was a quick, short message, but I think I got an acknowledgment.” The base did know their flight plan, rough though it was.
The German introduced himself as Hans Ulbrecht and Tony returned the favor. It seemed incongruous but necessary.
“Why didn’t you dive?” Tony asked.
“My late captain might have wondered the same thing in his last few moments. He’d had additional guns put on our boat with the idea that he could destroy an attacking plane before it killed us. Obviously, it didn’t work out as planned. As a very junior officer, I was not in a position to discuss strategy. I believe that he also got such a directive from our beloved Fuhrer who, of course, can do no wrong.”
Tony couldn’t keep from smiling. Intelligence had said that many in the German navy, the Kriegsmarine, were not fond of Hitler.
A faint buzzing caught their attention. They looked and saw a navy PBY Catalina flying boat heading towards them. It circled and settled in the water a hundred yards or so from the two rafts. They retrieved paddles from the rafts and began to move towards the PBY. The side hatch was open and two men with submachine guns watched them warily.
When they were close enough, Tony stood up and held his hands out. “I am First Lieutenant Tony Romano, pilot and skipper of the bomber. These men in the other raft are Germans, the surviving crewmen of the sub we just sunk. They are unarmed and have surrendered.”
One of the sailors with a submachine gun glared at him. “Why don’t you just get the fuck out of the way so we can send their asses to Valhalla.”
Tony glared back. “Don’t even think of that unless you plan on killing us, too. They surrendered and I think they have some interesting shit to tell us, shit that might save American lives, maybe even your own.”
The sailor’s expression softened slightly. “Americans get in first and Germans second.”
“Other way around,” said Tony, “and I give the orders, not you. That way, we can help you cover them.” And make sure you don’t do anything stupid, he didn’t add.
A few moments later, they were airborne and headed towards Norfolk. The Germans had been tied up but didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.
Ulbrecht smiled. “You should envy me, lieutenant.”
“Why?”
“Because my war is over, while yours is just beginning. Once your people are through interrogating me, I’ll be sent to some pleasant camp in Kansas or someplace where I’ll be fed and sheltered. Perhaps I’ll be granted parole and allowed out of the camp where I can meet people, perhaps even lovely young American girls who might find a cultured and handsome German fascinating. And what will you be doing besides getting another plane and preparing to put your life at risk once more?”
“Prick,” Tony said and the German laughed.
“So we're going to settle into another Sitzkrieg?” asked Grant. He was referring to the protracted period between the declaration of war between France and England on one side, and Germany and Italy on the other. They had spent long months in what was also known as the “Phony War,” staring at each other until the Germans launched their deadly assault on France, Belgium, and the Netherlands.
“Can’t be helped,” Downing answered. They were in the kitchen of Downing’s house and the colonel was making cocktails. Missy and Alicia were in the other room. “We aren’t ready to launch a real invasion of Ontario and won’t be for a couple of months. The newspapers and radio commentators like Walter Winchell are going crazy, so I hope nobody gets stampeded into doing something rash.”
“Rashness costs lives,” said Alicia, as she came in for her drink. The men were clearly taking too long making them.
“Are we being rash?” Tom asked. “With our marriage, that is.”
He still couldn’t believe that Alicia had agreed to marry him, and that the ceremony would take place the next Saturday. Her parents were on their way in and, while hurried and lacking some of the traditional elements, it would be a real wedding. She’d even found a woman to make a basic but lovely white dress. General Truscott had used some pull and gotten use of a cottage overlooking the Chesapeake for a week. He’d assured both of them that the war would go on despite their absence.
“Not rash, dear,” she answered. “In this chaotic little world we live in, it would be rash to not take advantage of every opportunity for a life together.”
“However short?”
“That’s right,” said Missy. “Make hay while the sun shines or something like that.” She was just a little drunk. “Never look back, never have regrets. Mark and I never have.”
Her husband mockingly glared at her. “I prefer you call me colonel in the presence of others, madam.”
Missy smiled sweetly. “Screw you, beloved colonel. Oh dear, my vile tongue has gone and betrayed the fact that I’ve lived on army posts for twenty-odd years.”
Tom and Alicia stepped outside. The night was crisp, which was a wonderful excuse for holding each other tightly. “Do you think it will be warm enough for us to swim in the Bay?” she asked.
“I wasn’t planning on going outside,” he said as he slipped his hand onto her breast.
“Well, that makes two of us.”
Guderian quickly realized that he had not been invited to a normal conference with his fellow general. Instead, something was terribly wrong. He kept his face impassive as the motorcycle was driven down a dirt path to a tent that was clearly marked with a Red Cross on the top. He thought about asking the driver about von Arnim’s condition, but decided that the young man probably didn’t know much at all.
When it stopped, he eased himself out of the sidecar. He ached from the cramped space, but tried to keep it from showing. Guderian was relieved to see a familiar face emerge from the tent, an anxious looking Koenig.
“How is he?” asked Guderian.
“Very bad, general. His vehicle was bombed and he was thrown from it. From what we can figure out, he hit his head on a tree.”
Guderian nodded and pushed his way inside the tent. He was met by a man in a doctor’s smock who introduced himself as Doctor Rinaldi, and that he was part of the Italian detachment sent by Mussolini to show his support for the Reich. The doctor spoke passable German.
“Your general is unconscious. We took x-rays and concluded that he has a depressed fracture of the skull, along with some cracked ribs and a broken leg. I can show you the x-rays if you’d like.”
Guderian did not wish to see them. “Will he live?” Guderian asked softly.
Rinaldi shrugged. “If we can give him nourishment, yes, but the proper questions should be when will he recover and how well will he recover. The answers to those are simple — we don’t know. He is not responsive and we believe he is in a coma. Some people come out of them and some don’t, living forever like a vegetable. Some others come out perfectly normal and others recover as little children who have to learn everything all over again. His recovery is in God’s hands.”
If there is a God, Guderian thought as he entered the screened off area where von Arnim lay motionless on a bed. His leg was in a cast, which was bad enough, but his skull was heavily wrapped in bandages. Only the lower part of his face was visible. Guderian wanted to ask how they were sure it was von Arnim, but held his comment.
“Koenig, how many know about this?”
“Just a handful, I hope, and they’ve been sworn to secrecy. Realistically, I can’t be certain that there aren’t others who know, or that those who do know won’t talk.”
Guderian agreed with the realistic assessment. “And as the days go on, more will certainly find out. This cannot be kept a secret forever.”