17
The summer grasses—
For many brave warriors
The aftermath of dreams
― Matsuo Bashō
SS Headquarters, NW Branch
Fort St. John, Deutsche Columbia, Greater German Reich
“Oberstleutnant Hoffmann, we have a message from our agent in Alaska Prefecture.”
Deiter Hoffmann looked up from a subordinate’s poorly written report, tired of laboriously wading through it, and gratified to have a distraction.
“Excellent news, Sturmbannfüher Zimmer! Has it been decoded yet?”
“Just now, sir. I brought it to you straight away.”
The Sturmbannfüher stiffened to attention, his highly polished boot heels snapping together smartly, as he held out the red folder with the SS Death’s Head emblazoned across it.
The Oberstleutnant took the folder and gave his subordinate a wry smile. “Do be at ease, Rudi. We are so very far from New York here, not to mention Berlin.”
“Thank you, sir.” He went to a stiff parade rest.
Hoffmann sighed and began reading the report. After a moment he glanced up at the Sturmbannfüher.
“You’ve received your top secret clearance, haven’t you?”
“Of course, sir. Otherwise I could not have had physical possession of that message.”
“True. Please sit down, I want two brains working on this one.”
“My privilege, sir.”
“You must keep in mind that our agent is rabidly anti-British and looks down upon the Japanese as an inferior race. To that end we have much in common.”
Both men laughed.
He read the message out loud, “Japanese garrison less than 400 effectives. Fighter jets present. North perimeter poorly guarded. Jap progress close to what US had in late ’44. Urge action sooner as opposed to later. Please advise if sabotage indicated.”
Zimmer frowned. “Progress in what?”
Hoffmann stared at his subordinate and wondered if anything this dolt might say would be worth the effort of listening.
“They are building atomic weapons, Rudi. They are also building a rocket capable of carrying little yellow men to the moon.”
“In Alaska?”
“How did you obtain this posting?”
“I, uh, was offered it, Oberstleutnant Hoffmann.”
“What was your other offer?”
“North Africa.”
Hoffmann realized he had made a mistake in accepting this idiot for his staff. He thought hard and fast.
Who recommended him? Strauss, it was Strauss. He must have still been angry about the Cuban thing. What a trusting fool I have been!
Erwin Strauss in Berlin had to have held an overwhelming grudge against him for nearly nine years to send this fool to such a sensitive post as this, no matter how inclement the weather.
“Thank you, Rudi, that will be all.”
The Sturmbannfüher shot to his feet and saluted.
“Very good, sir.” He performed a parade ground about face and left the office.
Now how do I get rid of him and obtain someone with a working brain?
He picked up his phone and hit three numbers.
“Georg? Deiter here. Can I have about an hour of your time? Right now. Thanks.”
By the time Hoffmann read through the transcript again his door swung open.
Georg Hoyt filled any room he entered. The Nazi Party had used his full-length photo on a poster in 1955. They believed he epitomized the perfect Aryan male. At 6’7” with thick blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a physique honed from three hours in the gymnasium on a daily basis, he had the pick of any woman who saw him.
“How may I rescue you today, Oberstleutnant Hoffmann?” he said with a wide smile that displayed superb dental care.
“I merely seek your august opinion on a top secret matter, Oberstleutnant Hoyt.”
“Really, top secret?”
One of the things Deiter appreciated about Georg was his ability to instantly focus on a situation. It also helped that he was a brilliant strategist.
“Yes, top secret, Herr Superman. Here, read this.”
Georg accepted the message and dropped into a chair while he read it.
“Where is this Japanese garrison? Progress in what?”
“Yukon Station, Prefecture of Alaska, is the first answer. Atomic weapons, is the second answer.”
“Please open your map.”
Deiter rolled the large map down until it covered the wall in his office.
“Right here. Note the only ways in are the railroad, the rudimentary road that parallels it, which both bottleneck through Fairbanks, and the runway for their rather large aerodrome.”
“Or one could get there on the Yukon River.” Georg briefly glanced at Deiter. “What is the timeline on this?”
“That is yet to be determined. We have a full battalion of SS Fallshirmjäger here and getting bored with arctic training. Paratroopers are not noted for their patience. Obviously speed is of the essence.”
“Is New York or Berlin behind your plan?”
“This base was placed here in the frozen north to watch our little yellow allies. As far as I know the Reich is solidly behind our ‘Instant Strike’ concept. Yesterday a squadron of heavy transports was ordered here for arctic training.
“I have kept New York and Berlin informed of every step, every jot of intelligence gleaned, and it and they tell me nothing in return. However, they are building us up.”
“Is your Alaska agent trustworthy?”
“As trustworthy as a spy can be. This one hates the British and thinks the Japs are sub-human.”
“He sounds perfect to me. Who is your commanding officer?”
“Standartenführer Schwenkle down in Regina. He just became adjutant to Brigadeführer Baumann. Do you know either of them?”
“I know both of them, they are equally venal. Convince them that this will be the one episode in their careers that will outshine anything we did in the war and they will press New York and Berlin to back anything you want to do.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It will be, you’ll see. Both are incredibly arrogant men, pitiless as a Jüden money lender, and stupid as a Pole.”