CHAPTER 5
The return to Vogelgrun was done much more carefully and surreptitiously. Even though the land beyond the Rhine had been bombed and shelled several times since they’d been blasted out of their hotel observation post, they were taking no chances.
The hotel that Tanner and the others had used as an observation post had been reduced to a charred pile of rubble. Tanner, Hill, and a squad of infantry dug in the old-fashioned way, with shovels and grunts. The ground was soft and they soon had a decent narrow trench that would protect them from anything but a direct hit. Or so they hoped. They also hoped that the partly cloudy night had protected them from curious eyes.
Hill reached over and tugged on Tanner’s sleeve. “Captain, what are those silly boys doing?” Two men with bulky equipment on their backs had moved to the riverbank.
“Sergeant, they are going to swim the Rhine underwater. Or at least they’re going to try it. That tanks on their backs contain oxygen that will enable them to breathe underwater. Two French guys thought of it a couple of years ago. They’re called aqualungs.”
“Jeez, Captain, you mean the French actually once had a good idea?”
“Be nice, Sergeant. Those two men are Army Rangers who’ve been trained on the equipment. They are going to try and take a thin line across, anchor it, and return. We can then attach heavier cables and use the cable as a pulley to get good sized rafts to the other side.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Yep. If the Krauts don’t shoot them, they might freeze to death in the water. I was told they’ve stuffed their waterproof suits with anything that’ll insulate them and even greased their bodies like Gertrude Ederle did when she swam the English Channel twenty years ago. If the Rangers survive their crossing, they’re going to do a little bit of scouting, but just a little. Their primary purpose is to bring back that cable so we can send over a raft.”
“Why don’t they use a snorkel? I’ve used something like that back home.”
“I don’t know, Hill, and you ask too many questions. Maybe because they can stay underwater longer and deeper or maybe they just wanted to try out the equipment in truly wretched conditions.”
Hill’s nod was barely visible in the darkness. “Sounds like the Army.”
Lights were forbidden, including smoking. To the enemy, it was hoped that the American side of the Rhine was calm and placid. They tried to watch the swimmers’ progress, but gave up. They thought they could see bubbles, but maybe it was just something in the river, debris or a fish. Tanner had been told that uncharted debris could kill a swimmer and the Rhine was filled with it.
“I think they’re across,” Hill said softly. “Do they have radios?”
“No. It was decided they’d weigh them down and we couldn’t fully waterproof them anyhow. We’ll know when they return.” If they return, he thought.
After an hour they were getting concerned. Another and they were sick with worry. The thin cable attached to the American side was no help. Sometimes it was slack and sometimes it was tight. Finally, they sensed a disturbance by their side of the riverbank and first one and then the second Ranger crawled ashore. Tanner, Hill, and a couple of other American soldiers crawled to them and helped them into the trench. They removed the men’s masks. They were gasping and their faces were blue. One of them did, however, have the cable tied to his belt.
They helped the men out of their bulky and insulated swimming suits and helped warm them by wrapping them in multiple layers of blankets. A little medicinal brandy aided the thawing process as well.
“Great job, guys. You’ll get a medal.”
One had recovered from his ordeal. “You can keep the medal, sir. I just want to get fucking warm. I don’t think my balls will ever thaw out.”
Tanner grinned. “Maybe we can get some nice nurse to massage them for you.”
“As long as it’s a girl, sir, that’d be wonderful. Now, if you’re wondering what we saw across the river, the answer is simple—not much. The riverbank hid our view. It would have been too difficult to climb out since we were slowly dying. That and our orders were to concentrate on anchoring the cable, which we did. An elephant couldn’t pull that thing out.”
Tanner left the two Rangers to get their body heat back to normal. In a few minutes they’d be guided back to where a truck was parked. Their night was done and he would write up the report in such a way that higher brass would have to give them a medal.
“What’s next, sir?” asked Hill. “Although I think I know.”
“That’s right, Sergeant. The light cable is being replaced by a heavier one as we talk, and tomorrow a couple of fools in a small boat will cross and see what is actually out there.”
“Any idea who the two fools are, sir?”
“Can you swim, Sergeant?”
* * *
Dulles led Janek into the largely empty restaurant where they went directly to a table against the wall. An elderly man with a snow-white goatee awaited them and greeted them with a firm handshake. Janek had been told that the man was Doctor Alain Burkholter and that he was a retired banking official who had also served in the Swiss government. Burkholter was thin and Janek guessed he was at least ten years older than Dulles. He had a stern expression. It was as if he disapproved of everything going on around him. As Burkholter did not have official standing with either the Swiss banks or government, he was free to represent both in an unofficial capacity. The same was true of Dulles. Even though he was head of the Swiss offices of the OSS, it was not something that would appear printed on a business card.
“Thank you for coming,” said Burkholter. “I know that your time is important. So much espionage to perform and so little time in which to do it.”
“As long as the Nazis are around, I will not run out of things to do,” said Dulles.
Burkholter smiled at Janek. “Captain, are you aware that two innocent young choirboys from the German embassy were attacked by a group of thugs last night and are now in the hospital recovering from their beating?”
Ernie laughed. Innocent choirboys? He was, however, strangely pleased that he had not killed the two men. “I wish them a speedy recovery.”
“I’m sure you do,” said Burkholter drily. Coffee arrived and they sipped with restrained pleasure, even though the brew was not as good as it could have been.
“Let me get to the point,” said Dulles. “My government is concerned about the degree of cooperation between the Swiss government and Berlin. It is our understanding that you are shipping food and medical supplies to what both we and the Nazis are referring to as their redoubt. We would like to know why.”
“If a wounded tiger climbs on your lap and wants to be petted, what do you do? Why, you pet it, of course. Allen, the Nazis are a wounded and desperate animal. We do not want them trying to take what little we have by force. They might not succeed, but they would devastate Switzerland and kill or wound tens of thousands of our people. We are well aware that our neutrality exists at the whim of the Germans, although now somewhat at the whim of yours. Earlier, we served the Nazis’ purposes by being their banker and their conduit to the outside world. Now they want food, weapons, ammunition, and medical supplies. Weapons and ammunition they may not have. We would have barely enough for ourselves if the Germans were to strike.”
Ernie was puzzled. “Excuse me, sir, but I thought that Switzerland was militarily quite strong?”
Burkholter laughed. “Good. You actually believed all the propaganda. Perhaps you would like to enlist in the Swiss navy? It doesn’t exist either. Captain, my country has a population of just over four million with perhaps half a million either in the army or in the reserves. It sounds substantial, but the numbers are flawed. Our men are not well trained, and we have no armor and only a little artillery. Our air force is condemned to fail because it is small and what we do have consists of German-manufactured planes that we bought, with many of them being ME109 fighters. Sadly, a number of them have been shot down by you Americans who don’t bother to read markings, which brings me to another disturbing point.”
“And what might that be?” asked Dulles. He was not happy at what he was hearing.
“We have compelling reason to believe that the capital of this Alpine Redoubt will be at the very small city of Bregenz, which is on the coast of Lake Constance. Once this is confirmed, I’m certain that your air force generals will want to bomb it. This must not happen.”
Even Dulles looked surprised. “And why not?”
“Because Bregenz is so close to the Swiss border that it is almost impossible for you to not hit places in Switzerland, which would be a tragedy. This has happened numerous times already. In fact, the presence of Captain Janek is a case in point. Were you absolutely certain where you were when you were shot down, Captain?”
Janek grinned sheepishly. “I had no idea. I knew I was somewhere over Europe but that was about it. I really thought I was going to wind up in a German Stalag. I am a very lucky man.”
Burkholter smiled warmly. “Indeed you are. I am also aware that you have something called a Norden bombsight, which is supposed to be a secret, but clearly isn’t. Despite all the claims regarding its alleged accuracy, it is only as good as the pilots using it and they are subject to all kinds of conditions that adversely affect its accuracy. These include weather, winds, visibility, being shot at by antiaircraft and German planes and, of course, the skill of the pilot. Your air force won’t want to admit it, but bloody few of the bombs you drop land anywhere near the target. Ergo, we do not want Bregenz or any other place near our border bombed. You may tell Eisenhower, or whoever is in charge of these things, that we will be mobilizing a large portion of our army. It will attempt to protect our borders from any German incursion and we will be setting up every antiaircraft gun we have. We will make a concerted effort to shoot down any plane that even approaches our border regardless of nationality.”
Janek was surprised at how angry Dulles looked. The man was livid. “Are you telling me, Doctor Burkholter, that we must grant sanctuary to the Germans?”
Burkholter was no longer smiling. “In so many words, yes. Unless you want to antagonize us, your planes should stay a good fifty miles from Bregenz. It this means that the pathetic rump Nazi government is safe from above, then so be it.”
The meeting was over. Burkholter picked up the tab and the three men left. “That was very educational,” said Janek.
“But not surprising and, no, they are not bluffing. There have been too many incidents where Switzerland has been either bombed or damaged. There was one complete ass of an American pilot who bombed a railroad station in Switzerland when he was supposed to be hitting a different target in Germany. The Swiss rightly complained that the man not only missed the target but got the wrong town in the wrong country. Worse, civilians were killed. It was not one of our finer moments.”
Ernie decided to keep his thoughts to himself regarding bombing accuracy. Some of the bombs he’d dropped from his P51 were classified as near misses when they hadn’t fallen within a couple hundred yards of the target. “Okay, how does all this affect me?”
“First, I wanted a witness. Second, I wanted you to be educated before you go on to your next location. You will be going to the small town of Arbon on Lake Constance where you will help coordinate OSS activities across the border in Germany. On occasion, you might want to walk to the German border and see the supermen in action. You might even want to go out on a boat. If you do, be discreet. Despite what Doctor Burkholter said about the Swiss navy, they do have patrol boats protecting their border.”
“Mr. Dulles, will the Nazis be granted a sanctuary in the Redoubt?”
“Sadly, it is very likely.”
* * *
Using the cable and a pulley to haul small boats containing American soldiers across the Rhine worked, but with only minimal efficiency. It took too long, was too dangerous, and only a handful could make each trip. And it was only attempted at night. Thus, after a week only five men were more or less permanently stationed on the German side of the Rhine. For a few days, Tanner was one of them. He spent much of his time either hiding in the mud or crawling in it. He recalled Dr. Hagerman’s admonition that he should not get his feet wet. How does one do that when there is a war on and you really don’t have enough rank to order someone else to get wet?
Tanner noticed few German patrols. He thought it was because they didn’t think a crossing at Vogelgrun was likely. During the days he spent on the German side, he did manage to pick up one potentially vital piece of information. That was the location of German minefields. Every morning, farmers would drive their cattle and sheep along proscribed paths that led from the Dragon’s Teeth cement barriers to the fields bordering the river. With a sketch pad and a good Swiss camera, he and the other Americans were able to pin down the probable locations of minefields.
“If the farmers don’t let their cows get blown up,” Tanner said on reporting back to General Evans, “I think it’s highly unlikely that GIs will either.”
“Could you see any indication that they know we’re coming?”
“Sir, I followed the cow paths and crawled on my belly through the Dragon’s Teeth and a little ways beyond. I confirmed that farmers had filled in the area between some Dragon’s Teeth so their livestock could more easily make it to the fields. Not exactly the thing to do if an attack is expected.”
Evans sat back and thought. “With dirt filling the places between the teeth, could we drive jeeps and tanks over them?”
“I couldn’t tell how firmly packed that dirt was, but if a cow could make it, so could a jeep. As to a tank, I’m not certain. And I could see the bunkers where the Germans were stationed and everything seemed quiet. There was laughter and talk and, of course, cigarette smoke. They may be concerned about crossings north of here, but I would say that the average Kraut isn’t worried about anybody coming from Vogelgrun.”
Evans stood up and began to pace. “Since we switched spots with the French, General Devers’ plan to have Patch’s Seventh Army cross at Mannheim is no longer very viable. Therefore, he is intrigued at the possibility of an American crossing at Vogelgrun. It the attack is a surprise, do you think we can pull it off?”
Why are you asking me? thought Tanner. He wants advice, that’s why. Evans, Patch and Devers will make the ultimate decision but they want input from people on the ground. “Sir, I think we could make it across fairly easily.”
“What about an artillery bombardment?”
“General, the Germans looked so sleepy we might just be able to rush them without a bombardment.”
Evans laughed. “And that is why I’m a general and you’re not, Tanner. I have been given fifty DUKW landing craft and each can handle at least a squad. We will bombard the crap out of them for no more than two hours then the little DUKWs can race across the narrow river as fast as they can and come back for more. In three crossings we should have at least a battalion on the other side. While our men keep crossing, engineers will be building pontoon bridges. The Germans will try to destroy them, of course, but we’re not going to let them, are we?”
Tanner grinned. Evans’ enthusiasm was contagious. “Yes, sir. I mean no sir.”
“That’s right. We’re going into the heart of Germany and seal off the routes to their damned Alpine Redoubt. Oh by the way, Captain, I’m commending you for going across and scouting the land for us. You might even get a medal out of it.”
Tanner didn’t know what to say except thank you. He did not think of himself as someone who had done anything heroic. “Sir, other guys were out there as well.”
“Don’t worry; we’ll take care of them. Look, Captain, this is such a new and virginal division we want our boys to know that there are men who will do what they have to and then some and, oh yeah, survive the experience. You could have huddled in the mud of the riverbank for a couple of days and nobody would have known. But no, you went out and crawled through their lines and picked up valuable information. And how can you be certain you knew where all the minefields were? All you had to do was miss one and we wouldn’t be having this cozy little talk, now would we?”
“No sir.”
“Good, now we’ll be giving you a second chance to prove you’re a hero. When the attack comes, you’ll be in one of the lead boats so you can make certain nobody strays off the beaten path and into a minefield. And try to keep your feet dry.”
* * *
Lena was exhausted. Her body ached and she was hungry. She was almost always hungry. Food was becoming more and more scarce. She’d picked up on rumors that what food existed was going south into the redoubt to feed the German armies that were supposed to flock there. She had her doubts. The Schneiders had more than enough but they were not about to share. And especially not with someone who was going to be disposed of in a very short while. Lena was becoming desperate. When should she run? Soon, very soon, she kept telling herself.
Lena had been spending most of the past several days helping the Schneider’s pack their belongings. If they were going to be refugees, they were going to be extremely well-dressed refugees. She thought that Frau Schneider was in for a rude awakening. Her husband had tried to tell her that she could not bring all her clothing and jewelry. She had even wanted to bring a lot of her furniture. “We’ll come back for it,” her pig of a husband told her. That seemed to mollify her. But the trunks and suitcases of clothing were mountainous. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been an indicator that Lena was going to be sent to a war factory where she would likely die.
She was in her room and had stripped off her dress and slip, and was standing barefoot by her bed, dressed only in her bra and panties. Her dress was soaked with sweat and it would have to be washed. But why? she thought. Perhaps she should take off tonight? After all, the only ones in the house were Anton and Magda. Their parents were off to some Nazi celebration designed to take their minds off the fact that Germany was losing the war.
The door to her room clicked and Anton entered. When he saw that she was partly undressed, he grinned happily. “You are lovely,” he said.
“Thank you, but you should leave,” she said sternly. “Your father will be home shortly.” She cursed the fact that the cook, Olga, had come down with a fever and was in the hospital. She was alone with Anton.
She fought the urge to cross her arms across her breasts and thighs. Such a show of modesty would make Anton think he had intimidated her. Instead, she stood and glared at him. She was wearing almost as much clothing as a young girl at the beach.
He took a step towards her. “I don’t think it’s time to leave,” he said huskily. “I think it’s time to finish.”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. She was surprised by his strength. He tried to kiss her and then grabbed for her breasts, squeezing them and hurting her. In shock, she squealed with pain.
Anton laughed. “Don’t worry about my father. He won’t be home for a couple of hours and he’s already said I can do whatever I want with you. After tomorrow it won’t matter.”
Tomorrow? She sagged and he took it as a sign of weakness. His hands roamed over her body, inside her bra and up her legs. He was breathing, panting, heavily.
“I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt me,” she whispered in his ear.
Anton smiled and stepped back. “Then take off your clothes.”
Lena stepped out of her bra and panties. “Now it’s your turn.”
He grinned and in a moment he was naked as well. “Let me touch you,” she said. She reached down and stroked his growing manhood. He sighed happily and she cupped his balls in her hand. Suddenly, she squeezed with all her might and twisted them savagely. His eyes widened. He wanted to scream, but no sound would come from his throat. She jabbed him in the eye with the fingers of her other hand and, when he went to protect it, she kicked him in the testicles. Anton fell to the floor and curled up into a fetal position. She kicked his hands aside from his testicles and kicked him again and again in the groin until he stopped writhing.
“Animal,” she said. She took the sheet off her bed and tied him up tightly. A pillowcase made a marvelous gag.
He wasn’t moving. She checked for a pulse and there was one. She despised him but had not planned on killing him. Her decision had been made for her. She would leave right now.
Lena dressed quickly, this time in the heavy and practical clothing she’d already squirreled away. These included some of Astrid’s ski clothing, including her boots. They were large for her but she solved the problem by stuffing them with rags. She went to the kitchen and filled a cloth sack with food that would both be nourishing and would last. At least that was her hope. She also added some kitchen knives and a cleaver to the sack.
“What is happening? What have you done to Anton?”
Lena had been concentrating so hard that she’d missed the sound of Anton’s sister Astrid coming home. “You’ve murdered him,” Astrid yelled again.
Lena screamed, letting go of suppressed rage. She grabbed a lamp and smashed it against Astrid’s head. The young woman dropped to the floor like puppet whose strings had been cut.
Lena checked for a pulse. It was there but light and feathery. A shame, she thought, but she could not, would not, do anything to help either one of her captors.
More bedding was used to secure Astrid. Lena completed her escape plans by breaking into Gustav Schneider’s gun rack. His shotguns and rifles would be too obvious and they would be awkward for her to carry. She smiled when she saw the Luger he said he’d brought back from the Great War. He always bragged that he’d used it in combat and had killed Frenchmen with it. She doubted that he’d gotten anywhere near the trenches and had probably won it in a card game.
It didn’t matter. She had it now along with several clips of ammunition. The extra ammo went into another sack and the pistol was tucked in the small of her back. There was a shoulder holster and she took that as well. It was too large for her but maybe she could adjust it. Nor did she have to worry about Olga, the cook.
Finally, she found a couple of pieces of Herr Schneider’s official Nazi stationery and quickly typed passes for herself, signing Gustav’s signature to them. One was in her own name and the other in her mother’s maiden name. She was now both Lena Bobekova and Lena Madzyk. Better, the papers authorized her to go anywhere she wished with the blessings of Adolf Hitler.
She went back to where Anton and Astrid were tied up. Astrid’s eyelids were fluttering, so maybe she would recover. Good, Lena thought. Anton was more alert and staring at her. She took the cleaver from the sack and held it in front of his nose. His eyes widened in fear and he started to cry. She turned the knife and dragged the flat side down to his swollen testicles and alongside his bruised penis.
“You are an evil little boy. I should cut this off and save everyone a lot of trouble. When your parents come home, you will tell them that I could have killed you but did not. Do you understand?”
Anton nodded. She smiled as she noticed that he had also peed himself. She let herself out the back. With a couple of hours lead, she could be anywhere before the Schneiders started a search. In the growing chaos of the times, she wondered if there would even be a search.
* * *
Field Marshal Ferdinand Schoerner gave the Nazi salute. He then jubilantly rushed and embraced Propaganda Minister Josef Goebbels. “It is so good to see you, Minister,” he said with genuine enthusiastically.
Goebbels laughed. It was good to be off the road and out of an ambulance. Even though he was currently in a cave carved into a mountain, there was a strong feeling of security and safety. And of hope for the future of the Reich.
“I won’t ask you if you had a pleasant trip. I think we all know better.” Schoerner turned and waved the others out of his office. “I believe it is time for privacy.”
When they were alone and behind closed doors, Schoerner poured brandies into expensive crystal and they toasted their good fortune. “Thank you,” Goebbels said. “I’m exhausted. I feel like I’ve been on another planet for the last several weeks. I’ve lost track of everything. However, I do know that the Americans have crossed the Rhine and that the British have followed suit. Is there any hope of stopping them?”
“None whatsoever,” said Schoerner sadly. “Nor is there any hope of stopping the Soviets. Berlin will be destroyed and many of the people trapped inside will die horribly.”
“Then I am doubly glad to be here with the children. They and their mother are staying in Bregenz. They are comfortable and their villa is on the outskirts of a town that is almost too small to have outskirts.”
Schoerner laughed. He noticed that Goebbels had not mentioned Magda by name. He had already gotten word from one of the ambulance drivers that there had been several flare-ups between Josef and Magda during the last few days. Magda and the children would live in Bregenz while separate quarters were made up for her husband. It was what he had anticipated. He would also arrange for attractive women to be available if the Reich Minister was so inclined—as he generally was.
Goebbels’ second brandy appeared to be relaxing him. “And what is the shape of the army, Herr Schoerner?”
“It could be much better and it definitely could be very much worse and I am not trying to be confusing. We have elements of at least fifty divisions in the Redoubt with more arriving daily. Unfortunately, the operative word is elements. A full infantry division should have seventeen thousand men. These remnants sometimes only have two or three thousand, sometimes much less. Worse, a disproportionate number of these are from noncombat and rear echelon areas. Our real combat forces have been decimated. General Warlimont has been working tirelessly and brilliantly to reorganize these battered groups into something resembling a coherent force. They will not be the same German army that invented the Blitzkrieg and destroyed France in only a few weeks, but they will do extremely well when well-fortified and fighting on the defensive.”
Goebbels was satisfied. “Fighting such a defensive war is why we came to the mountains, Field Marshal. The days of launching huge armies across vast continents and winning great victories are over. At least for the time being,” Goebbels added with a smile. “Who knows what might happen in the future. Right now our goal is simply to survive.”
“Indeed,” said Schoerner. “Our forces have other problems that we are trying to confront. For instance, we have only a few dozen planes and pilots and very little fuel. The Luftwaffe is somewhere between nonexistent and grounded. While we did manage to bring in a goodly number of artillery pieces and antiaircraft weapons, we do not have an excess of ammunition. The factories set up by Herr Speer’s minions are just now beginning to produce but they will never be able to supply ammunition in the quantities that we really need.”
Goebbels nodded. What he needed and wanted desperately was a good night’s sleep. The last few days with Magda had almost driven him mad. The closer they got to safety the more unreasonable and irritable she had become, loudly reminding him of every affair he’d ever had, including some he had totally forgotten. He’d countered by reminding her of her own sexual escapades. Thank God the children traveled in a separate vehicle.
Schoerner was still talking and Goebbels was jarred back to reality. “I didn’t mention armor, but the situation there is reasonably good. Warlimont’s ever-changing inventory says we have about five hundred tanks of all kinds. Few are Panthers or Tigers, but most of them are Panzer IVs with upgraded guns. Fuel is again an issue, so they will likely be used as a mobile defense force.”
“Excellent,” Goebbels said and yawned. “I have some thoughts, although they will not alleviate fuel and ammunition shortages. The Americans were clearly loath to fire on an ambulance. I suggest that additional ambulances be filled with cash, gold and valuable art works that can be used to buy things through the Swiss. A few score more ambulances, perhaps even a few hundred, could provide us with a fortune.”
Goebbels shook his head and yawned again.
Schoerner laughed. “I have a feeling I’m keeping you up, Minister. May I suggest we resume again after you’ve had a chance to rest? By the way, the renowned physicist, Abraham Esau, has made it here as well along with a number of other scientists. We have put them to work developing what he, Heisenberg, and others were developing. Heisenberg is also expected, but obviously has not yet arrived.”
Goebbels was suddenly awake. Esau was indeed important. He was perhaps even more important than Heisenberg. Some considered him the founder of the German nuclear program. “Can he make the atomic bomb that Heisenberg promised?”
“He says he can. Of course, if he had said he couldn’t we would have had them all shot. He also says that solutions to a number of other difficulties with our weapons were well within reach. All he needed was time and resources. Unfortunately, we have neither, but we will do everything we can for him. I have put him in his own bunker a mile or so out of town and he has a number of scientific toys to play with. He and the other scientists are well guarded.”
Goebbels smiled. “Perhaps it is not too late to spring an awful surprise on the Americans.”
“Indeed. My only concern is that with a name like Abraham Esau, he might be Jewish.”
Goebbels shook his head. “I recall his name and the fact that his family was thoroughly researched. He is not Jewish.”
Schoerner was clearly not convinced. “However, he will be watched.”
“Will you have any of your men working with him in his bunker or even just watching them?”
“I told Doctor Esau that I would be doing that and he laughed at me. He asked how many of my men were physicists and I had to admit that none were. He then informed me that my men would be in the way, would slow down the scientists work and might just be in danger from radiation. He added that an untrained person might make a catastrophic mistake and cause the bomb to detonate prematurely. For the time being, I have deferred to his wishes.”
“What else could you have done?” Goebbels said and resumed yawning. Schoerner got the hint.
“As soon as you’ve rested, I would like you to meet a representative of the Swiss government and hear his rather interesting opinion of neutrality. I think you will find it very enlightening. If you would like, I will also arrange for a young nurse to come and give you, ah, a thorough massage before you go to sleep.”
A female nurse? A massage? Goebbels smiled and thought that would be a marvelous idea. So too would be an atomic bomb. Both thoughts pleased him.
* * *
The small Swiss city of Arbon rested comfortably on a peninsula that jutted out into Lake Constance. Ernie’s first impression was favorable and a lasting one. The town was lovely and quaint and he decided that if he had to spend the rest of the war in Switzerland, Arbon would be the place to do it. A guidebook told him that the place had been occupied by man since Stone Age times. There were even traces of the Romans along with a late medieval castle. He made a note to see them if the war and the OSS gave him a chance.
He was quartered in a warehouse owned by an export-import company that had done business in both the U.S. and Switzerland before the war. It was now part of the U.S. consulate and was operated by a man in his fifties named Sam Valenti. Valenti was plump, middle-aged and innocuous. He had emigrated to the U.S. as a boy, became a citizen, and then decided to return to Europe as an OSS agent to help defeat the twin fascists, Mussolini and Hitler. Since Italian was one of Switzerland’s several languages, he fit in quite nicely.
“What do you think?” Valenti asked genially.
“I’ve seen better prisons,” Ernie replied.
Valenti was unsympathetic. “Be thankful that you’re indoors and the roof doesn’t leak and, oh yeah, that you’re not in a prison camp.”
Ernie had a twin bed and what passed for a room. Plywood walls separated him from the rest of the warehouse, now empty, and four other similarly built rooms. A bathroom was down the hall and included a shower large enough for several people. It reminded Ernie of his high school gym.
“You can bring in food, but don’t make a mess,” Valenti said. “If you want to bring in alcohol, make sure you have enough to share. The same goes with women.”
“I’ll try to remember.”
“And don’t bring in any Nazis. I don’t want any of them pricks desecrating my property.”
Ernie had been instructed to get a newspaper and sit down in the waterfront park. He would then carefully read it. When the right time came, he would be contacted by someone named Winnie. He thought the game was a little silly until he saw German soldiers in uniform walking casually down the streets of Arbon. It was a stark reminder that Switzerland was neutral and that the German border was not only across the lake but only a few miles down the coast. It also said that the border was easily crossed and he wondered what he could do about that. He realized he was thinking like a spy and not a pilot.
After several days of accumulated boredom, he was beginning to wonder if the OSS knew what to do with him. Finally, a young woman about his age walked up to him and smiled. She was short and plump and rather plain. She had poorly cut long and greasy looking brown hair and wore thick horn-rim glasses.
“Cousin Ernest,” she said with apparent sincerity. “If you don’t remember me from our childhood days, I’m Cousin Winnie from Philadelphia and it is so good to see you. The family will be so glad when I tell them, especially Uncle Allen.”
She spoke in a normal tone of voice. Anyone trying to listen in would hear nothing out of the ordinary. He stood and took her hand in his. Her grip was warm and firm. “It is so good to see you, too, Cousin Winnie. Will you be able to stay long?”
She took his arm and they casually began to walk along the waterfront. They were just two friends, not lovers, enjoying a stroll.
“I’m sorry I was late,” she said. “I was terribly busy.”
“Doing what, or shouldn’t I ask?”
“I was across the border in Germany, in that nest of vipers. I was trying to confirm that Josef Goebbels, one of Hitler’s satanic high priests and possible heir to the Reich, had made it to Bregenz.”
Janek was impressed. This also confirmed his opinion that the border was very porous. If Germans could walk the streets of Arbon, then plump and drab Winnie could do the same in the new German capital of Bregenz. Or, he thought, maybe he could do the same thing? Going to Berlin was clearly out of the question, but what about Bregenz? It also told him that Winnie was something more than a plump little nothing in a frumpy dress that did nothing for her. He also shuddered when he realized she had bad breath and smelled as if she hadn’t bathed recently. Still, he would not judge her skills as an intelligence operative. Getting in and out of Germany proved she had them.
“Well, I did not see the Minister of Propaganda himself, but I did find a villa close to the shore that is well guarded by the SS. I was able to see blond-haired children playing in the back and a skinny yellow-haired frau watching them. I’m almost certain it was Magda Goebbels. If so, could her loving husband be far behind?”
“Are they close enough for someone to cross the border and snatch them?”
She laughed and he decided that at least she had a warm smile and decent teeth. “Mr. Dulles said you would bear watching. Even if we could do that, we wouldn’t. At least we wouldn’t do it in such a manner as to annoy the Swiss. We are their guests, after all. Word on the street and from Mr. Dulles is that she and her monster of a husband are not on speaking terms. He is probably living at some military headquarters in the mountains. In fact, I would not be surprised if Magda Goebbels and her hatchlings showed up here in Arbon to do a little shopping. The poor dears must be exhausted by their trip from Berlin. Apparently they came by ambulance, which is something else that has to be considered. I believe it violates the Geneva Convention if anybody cares, and apparently they don’t.”
They’d turned and were back where they’d started. Winnie took his hand and again shook it firmly. “I’ll be seeing you again shortly. In the meantime, why don’t you use some of the money you’ve been given and get a car? You can then travel along the border and the neighboring towns to acclimate yourself. When I come back, we’ll rent a boat and go fishing or something. Do you like to fish?”
“Not really.”
“I don’t either,” she said. “I suppose we’ll have to pretend, though. Maybe we can just throw lines in the lake and pretend.”
“Where will you be going?”
“Don’t ask.”
* * *
Lena’s thought was that the Schneiders would be looking for her in the south and west. That is, if they looked for her at all. Thus, she initially headed north and east to throw them off her trail. Even though many refugees were using the roads and even though she was armed, she avoided groups. Sometimes she walked with them, but never as part of them. She didn’t want to make friends, and she didn’t want to draw attention to herself.
The refugees came in all shapes and sizes. Almost all were displaced Germans. They’d been uprooted by fear of the oncoming Russians and they were fleeing Stalin’s vengeance-seeking hordes. They were terrified and their goal was to somehow make it to the American or British lines. Murder and rape awaited them if they stayed still.
The displaced Germans all appeared stunned by the terrible turn the war had taken. Not only had their cities been bombed to ashes, but even those who lived in the country had seen their comfortable homesteads devastated. Now they were reduced to carrying their belongings on their backs or pushing them in carts. Few had cars since there was very little gas. The relatively lucky ones had carts pulled by gaunt horses. She even saw carts being pulled by large dogs. She had no sympathy for them. They had brought Hitler to power and cheered when he invaded and plundered country after country, including her beloved Czechoslovakia. Let them suffer. She didn’t want them to die, just suffer as she had and learn.
Other groups were spotted and feared like feral dogs. These were displaced persons from other countries and prison camp inmates who’d somehow escaped from the concentration camps or prisons. They wanted revenge, just like the Red Army. They too looted, raped and murdered. Sometimes they burned homes just for the sheer joy of doing it to a German. When they were seen, the refugees either hid or formed protective circles. Each time, Lena clutched her pistol tightly, although she did not let anyone see it. Germany, she concluded, was descending into madness.
There was a group of nuns—Dominicans, she thought—travelling as a cluster. She wondered what the women in their long black habits were thinking. She envied them the fact that they had companions who would support each other. Lena did not miss the Schneiders, not for one minute, but she did wish she had someone in whom she could confide. She was lonely. She had used up most of her food and she had to sleep on the ground with the pistol close by. She had come to realize that no one was looking specifically for her. However, there was always the possibility of an SS or Gestapo sweep. These were generally used to capture deserters and she’d seen several instances where men had been hanged from telephone poles with signs saying “Deserter,” or “Enemy of the Reich” attached to their chests. If they checked her identification too closely, it might not hold up. Avoiding the sweeps became a priority, but how?
She used the nuns as a beacon, an anchor. She never approached them or talked to them, but she always kept them in sight. The refugee swarm constantly changed, but the nuns were always there. One heavyset sister appeared to be their leader. She seemed to have noticed Lena although there was no hint of recognition or friendship.
Night came and Lena tried to make herself as comfortable as possible on the ground. One of her folded-up empty supply bags served as a pillow; the pistol was in her belt. She closed her eyes and fell into an exhausted sleep. When she awoke, it was daylight and the encampment was starting to stir. She suddenly felt almost physically ill. The Luger was gone.
She sat up and looked around wildly. The heavyset nun was seated on a piece of wood a few feet away. “Are you missing something?”