Impossible Nazi Read online

  “Do you suppose he revealed this early on purpose, Hennie?” she asked.

  “To what end? You are right, though. He had to know he was in no position to move forward on this right now. I just don’t know.”

  Frau Marsden again entered the room with a plate of plate of small mustard and sausage sandwiches.

  “Oh, bless you, Frau Marsden,” Schloss exclaimed, “those look wonderful.”

  “Oh, it is nothing, Herr Schloss. When you were not able to get here for dinner, I prepared these. I thought you would probably be hungry when you were able to get here.”

  He took one of the sandwiches and popped it into his mouth. “Oh. This is very good. Thank you, Frau Marsden.”

  She responded with one of her gastric harrumphs and left the room again.

  “I do not believe I have ever seen her look pleased,” Gisela giggled. “And I have known her nearly as long as you.”

  “Oh, she is pleased right now,” Schloss said. “If she is not berating me about one thing or the other, it means she is happy.”

  “She is really not that bad.”

  “No? You weren’t here to see her poking me in the chest and telling me to stay out of your bed until we were married.”

  “She is a little old-fashioned. But, I think she’s sweet.”

  Schloss choked on his lager. He had to pull his arm from around her shoulder to lean forward and cough. She pounded him on the back.

  “Are you all right, Hennie?” she asked, concern clouding her voice.

  “You shouldn’t say things like that when I am taking a drink.”

  Whenever he sat down with Gisela, the stress seemed to flow off him. She had become so much a part of him that he felt incomplete without her. He considered, again, how amazing his story was, and how fortunate he was to be married to a woman like her.

  “Finish your lager, Dear,” she said, “you need to get to bed. You likely have another long day, tomorrow.”

  He drained the glass, and then stood up with a sigh. “You’re right. I hope I can go to sleep.”

  He followed her to the bedroom and hung up his jacket and tie. He then walked down the hall to the toilet. After taking care of business, he stepped out and thought for a moment. He then strode through the darkened apartment to the kitchen where, it seemed, Frau Marsden waited for him. She leaned against the counter with arms folded. The perpetual frown on her face seemed to be more marked than before.

  “You should be getting ready for bed, Herr Schloss,” she stated.

  “Oh, I’m on my way shortly. But, I needed to talk to you.”

  “Me, Herr Schloss? What kind of advice can an old woman give to the Reich Chancellor?”

  “You are aware, of course, of the incredible stories Canaris heard from those doctors. Worse yet, he either believed them or used it as an opportunity.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  He scraped his teeth over his lower lip for a moment as he thought. “I wondered if you had any knowledge of how they came to these stories.”

  She grunted as she watched him. “You are asking, of course, if this had anything to do with how you arrived in this place.” It was a statement.

  “Well. Yes. It just seemed so strange for them to reach the kind of conclusion… well, to be honest, it was Dr. Morell. I don’t think Canaris believed it.”

  She seemed to ponder the question before she spoke again. “There is a phrase, a shot in the dark. Dr. Morell has no certain knowledge of your roots, Herr Schloss. I find it strange that he somehow leaped to the conclusion he did, but I can only assume it was the product of his own fevered imagination.”

  “We cannot afford to allow these stories to spread,” Schloss said. “We have enough problems establishing the legitimacy of this government. If people start believing conspiracies, we are in trouble.”

  “And people are all too apt to believe it of the Nazis.”

  “Exactly.”

  “All I can suggest, Herr Schloss, is that you not allow yourself to be diverted from your mission. You will face challenges more severe than this. You are very good at thinking on your feet. You consistently make good decisions. This is partially a result of your self-confidence. However, you are also an uncommonly wise man. You will weather this storm.”

  “I wish I had your confidence, Frau Marsden.”

  “I will not always be here to hold your hand, Herr Schloss. You must make your own way in this world. All I can say is that you will ultimately succeed. And now, you must get your rest.”

  “Thank you, Frau Marsden.”

  As always, his impromptu meetings with the old woman produced more questions than answers. She was the only person in this universe who knew where he came from. Yet, anytime he tried to draw more information out of her, she answered in riddles, ellipsis, and ambiguity. It was frustrating. He walked back to his bedroom more confused than when he came out.

  § § §

  July 27, 1942; 4 PM

  Royal Palace

  Baghdad, Iraq

  King Ghazi of Iraq was convinced he had made a good decision. Almost as soon as he had signed the agreement with Ribbentrop, men and equipment had arrived at the railhead in the northern part of the country. The German foreign minister had promised they would drive the railroad through Baghdad and to the Persian Gulf within a year, and it seemed they were doing whatever was necessary to fulfill that promise. A dozen teams of German oil field engineers had begun surveying the country in preparation for sinking wells in several locations.

  Perhaps most surprising was that the Germans made no efforts to influence or co-opt members of the government. Oh, he was sure that many of his officials had accepted a certain amount of baksheesh to lubricate the business deals that were made, but it looked like nobody was getting greedy. So far. And, the Germans were hiring lots of the locals and paying good money. The populace liked this, particularly since the British seemed more interested in extracting as much money as possible when Iraq was their client state.

  Ghazi’s optimistic thoughts died when a group of guards entered his office, and Colonel Amidad Muhammod strode into the room.

  “Your Majesty, we must take you into protective custody.”

  Ghazi stood up. “What are you protecting me from, Colonel?” he asked, his eyes flashing.

  “There is a plot by the Germans to take over the government. We must bring that to a quick halt. It is clear the Germans have tricked us.”

  “What kind of evidence do you have of this plot?” the king asked.

  “What? Do you not trust me? I say there is clear evidence. That is all we need.”

  “That is not all we need,” Ghazi spat back. “The agreement with the Germans was reviewed by the government, and everyone thought it was agreeable. What are going to do, bring the English dogs back in to rule over us?”

  “No, of course not. Iraq must be free of all foreign influences – British and German alike.”

  “Sit down, Colonel,” Ghazi said, stretching out his hand. “We need to talk about this.”

  “The time for talk is over, Your Majesty. The army will see to the security of the nation.”

  “Just like they stood up to the English over the past twenty years,” the king argued. “This treaty with Germany is what we need. They are pumping investment into the county. They are giving good jobs to our people. They have also allowed Iraqis to take ownership positions in the railroad and oil industry. There are hardly any German soldiers in Iraq. I ask you again, where is the threat?”

  “And you are playing for time, Your Majesty.” Muhammod stood up. “Come, we need to get you to safety.”

  “I am afraid I am not leaving, Colonel. You are an unwelcome and uninvited guest in my house. Further, you are attempting treason against a lawful government.”

  “Very well,” the colonel said.

  He walked over and opened the door to the King’s office. A group of six, hand-picked military policemen waited.

  “Take the king
into custody, as we discussed,” Colonel Muhammod said. “You will, of course, treat him with the utmost respect. However, he is not to be allowed to communicate with anyone.”

  The captain in charge of the group of MPs saluted the colonel and then marched over to the king.

  “Please come with us, Your Majesty.”

  Ghazi looked at the guards and sighed. He allowed them to lead him out of the palace. The captain stepped over next to the colonel.

  “It is as you wish, Colonel.”

  “Very well, Captain. Once you have replaced all the palace staff, you may move the king back here. He will be more comfortable in his own home.”

  “Yes, Sir. I understand.”

  Muhammod walked into the corridor outside of the king’s office where a major waited.

  “Major,” he instructed, “go ahead with the releases to the newspapers, and the radio stations. We have little time to solidify the junta, so let us not waste any.”

  “Of course, Colonel.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  July 21, 1942; 10 AM

  The Royal Office

  Buckingham Palace

  London, England

  While Winston Churchill was a firm supporter of the crown, he had come to dread his weekly meetings with the queen. There was no question that the Windsors were firmly dedicated to the people of the United Kingdom. Margaret had ascended the throne during the depths of the German blitz and was adamant that England should never be subjected to something like that again.

  Unfortunately, Queen Margaret’s ideas on how to halt the war verged upon idiotic in Churchill’s private opinion. She was as single-minded in the pursuit of her goals as the rest of her family. Churchill still mourned the loss of George VI, as well as the Crown Princess Elizabeth.

  “And what is the state of our realm this morning, Prime Minister?” the queen asked, opening the meeting.

  “Under the circumstances, Your Majesty, we have little to complain about. The war front is as quiet as we have seen in the past few years. The economy seems to be trudging along.”

  “And what have you done in the past week to bring this miserable war to a conclusion?”

  He grimaced internally. She had come straight to the point on this morning. He was not surprised. The queen had been working towards a more confrontational position with the government, lately, and this was the major area of difference.

  “As you know, Your Majesty, the war has largely stalemated for the moment. After the loss of Egypt, there is little available for them to grasp…”

  “But, what about that coup in Iraq?” she asked, interrupting him. “Was that the work of our people?”

  “We have many friends in Iraq, it was largely their work. They did inform our people of the plans. It appears to have been successful.”

  “And what did that accomplish for us?”

  “As you know, the Germans were working to complete a rail link to the oil fields in Iraq. Ghazi planned to drive the railhead through to the Persian Gulf. Since the coup, all work has stopped.”

  “So, we have checkmated the German attempts to gain access to oil?” she continued.

  The queen was pushy this morning, he thought. He wondered where this was going, and worried about it.

  “I would say we have postponed it. If Schloss decides to throw his support behind Ghazi, there is little we could do to halt that.”

  “And what of your operations on the continent?”

  “We have maintained a low profile for the moment. The Müngsten Bridge operation got their internal security people excited. Six have decided to lay low and see if the risk will decline.”

  “So, we are essentially are doing nothing?”

  “Your Majesty, at the moment our people are not dying….”

  “Our people are dying in Australia and New Zealand,” she interrupted. “And you are still doing nothing to work towards a negotiated end to this war with the Germans. Your report on the Lisbon Conference was completely unacceptable.”

  “Your Majesty, need I remind you of the limitations of the Crown in setting policy?”

  She slapped the table with her hand. “I am very much aware of keeping my place. And, I intend to stay within those limits.” She raised her voice to a shout. “But, I will push right up to those limits when my government are acting like idiots! Schloss wants to settle this war. He represents a way to create a long-term solution to the problems in Europe. Meanwhile, the United States is fighting our war against the Japanese for us. The only thing we have done for the Australians is to get their army imprisoned in Egypt! This is unacceptable, Prime Minister.”

  “Your Majesty,” Churchill began again, “I know that you are frustrated…”

  “Prime Minister, I am as frustrated as I can be. Trust me; you do not want an unhappy monarch. And if we are not seen as moving heaven and Earth to help our subjects, we will lose them forever.”

  There, he thought, she has drawn her sword and laid naked steel on the table. The queen of England had no legal power to control government policy, and she knew it. However, she was popular with the people, and as a symbol wielded immense influence. She could not dismiss a prime minister, but she could eventually cause him to lose a vote of confidence. And, that would be disastrous.

  Churchill wanted to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants. He tried to quiet his thundering pulse. Most of all, he tried to think! The situation was rapidly spinning out of control, and he needed to get this stopped.

  “But what about our allies on the continent. Surely, our word means something there. The free French are depending upon us.”

  “Screw the French!” she shouted.

  He looked at her in shock. “Your Majesty, how can you say that? We stood back to back with the French against the Boche. They are dependable allies.”

  “There are friends, and then there are family, Prime Minister. I would not lightly abrogate treaty relationships with our friends on the continent. Nevertheless, we must make some difficult choices. Give Schloss what he wants. That will give him a chance to solidify his position and undercut the radical Nazis. Then, maybe we can avoid another war in Europe in twenty years.”

  Churchill took a deep breath “I understand, Your Majesty.”

  And, he did. There were people in the cabinet who made the same points as the queen. Her position was gathering more support in the nation. Yet, he simply could not walk away from a century of diplomatic efforts on the continent.

  “And I have said enough,” the queen replied. “Now, on to other things. Labor has been pushing to nationalize health care. I have studied their documents, and I think they make some good points.”

  “And we feel that we would lose control of costs by appointing health care mandarins to manage the industry.”

  “Very well, I would not necessarily disagree. Do you have any thoughts on how you might co-opt their arguments? It is plain that the labor position has struck a chord with the people.”

  The meeting continued. Churchill was relieved to move to another topic, but he was worried about what the queen might do to help push through an agreement with Schloss. Germany was about three bullets away from returning to its militant pursuit of Lebensraum, and people did not realize that. He hoped for the best from Schloss but was under no illusions about what the man faced.

  And, the queen was absolutely correct. After the destruction of the British Eastern Fleet at Singapore, the empire had done nothing to help its people on that side of the world. The Australians had freely contributed troops and matériel to the battle in North Africa, and this had ultimately left them completely exposed to the Japanese onslaught.

  Churchill was thoughtful as he left the meeting and climbed back into his Humber limousine for the trip back to Downing Street. It was clear that his support in the house was growing shaky. The party whips were making heroic efforts to support the government, but his prosecution of the war was widely perceived as untenable. The easy thing to do would be to accept a settlement with
the Germans, but he was not convinced it was the wise thing.

  § § §

  July 21, 1942; 2 PM

  Government House

  Rome Italy

  Galeazzo Ciano pushed open the double doors to his new office. Government House, a modern neo-classical monument to Fascism had been designed by the architect Luigi Moretti under orders from Il Duce. Unfortunately, the assassination of the Italian leader in the spring meant the Benito Mussolini never had the opportunity to sit in the building he commissioned. That honor now fell to Mussolini’s son-in-law, Ciano.

  Much had changed over the past year. Ciano’s great concern that Germany would lead Italy into a disastrous war was now moot. First, the death of Hitler and the ascension of Heinrich Schloss had turned Germany’s attentions inward to the digestion of its conquests. The elimination of the English from the Mediterranean had proved a boon to Italy. It earned substantial hard currency by servicing Germany’s Mediterranean fleet. The rise of the Jewish nation in Palestine had added a new potential trade partner.

  Though Italy was never a wealthy nation, Mussolini had succeeded in improving the lot of its people in the twenties and thirties. Mussolini’s popularity suffered when he began investing huge sums in the military and embarked on ill-fated invasions of Ethiopia and Greece. After the sweeping victory in Egypt, Italy had taken the opportunity to reduce its military investment. The economy was growing again. Ciano had inherited this situation and was broadly popular because of it.

  Ciano stopped to inhale the smell of fresh paint and varnish and then walked over to sit behind the desk.

  “Everything has been moved in, and I have attempted to arrange it as you like, Presidente,” Ciano’s personal secretary said. “Please let me know if anything is amiss.”

  Ciano smiled at the other man. While his secretary was obsequious to the point of annoyance, he was a master at managing the president’s office.

  “Everything looks fine, Emilio. If I see anything out of place, I will let you know.”