Threads of Despair: The Parallel Nazi - 6, page 19
As the presentation continued, Schloss sat quietly. He knew that he would soon have to decide about Milch since the man had continued to defy him on this issue. The structure of the presentation suggested to him that the Boeing people had created the Heinkel proposal upon request from the Reichsmarshall, but Boeing didn’t want to do it. That problem would solve itself.
At the conclusion, Packer returned to the front of the room for questions. It was clear the bulk of the Luftwaffe wasn’t interested in the He-177 either. The Fortress was doing the job. The numbers of the bombers increased, and the Luftwaffe had used them to interdict the flow of Russian war materials to the front.
The Luftwaffe officers were excited about the Boeing Model 450 concept, though. And Schloss knew from his alternate universe that the plane would be useful. It closely resembled the airplane he knew as the B-47. And he would not have to try very hard to encourage the RLM to move in that direction.
After the meeting, Schloss thanked the Americans for the presentation and complimented them on their thoroughness. Carlson and Johnson stood to one side, watching him. They obviously wished to speak, but he wasn’t ready for that. He needed to get back to his office and consult with Rainer. Milch was about to suffer a career change, although he didn’t know it yet.
§ § §
January 10, 1944; 2 PM
Reich Chancellor’s office
Reich Chancellery
Berlin, Germany
Peter Schreiber and Karl Rainer sat across from Schloss in his office. For this meeting, Willem sat in to take notes. Schloss reviewed the morning RLM meeting with the two men before moving to the purpose of the current gathering.
“Very well,” Schloss said, “Milch refuses to abandon his obsession with the Greif bomber. This is despite several direct orders from me. I think we need to make a decision.”
“How did Boeing approach this?” Peter asked.
“It was interesting. They clearly want to build a jet bomber for us. That was the bulk of the presentation. The Heinkel modifications seemed like almost an afterthought. I believe they would be happy not to do that project.”
“I also worry about Milch’s influence on Guderian and Rommel,” Rainer stated. “After General Model surrendered, Milch got overly conservative in his approach to military operations, and I think that influence spread.”
Schloss folded his arms. It seemed chilly in the room, and he hadn’t warmed up again since his visit to the RLM. “A lot of people would think he was doing the correct thing after losing a hundred-thousand men in that operation.”
“If we remember correctly,” Peter admitted, “I was in that group.”
“Well, we won’t hold it against you,” Schloss murmured. “We’ll allow you one mistake.”
Peter folded his hands. “God is merciful.”
Rainer snorted. “Yes, but Herr Schloss can put up with your shortcomings. He’s that way with family.”
“It helps to have influence,” Peter replied.
“I asked the American advisors to see me,” Schloss said, forcing a change of subject. “I would like to get their read on the meeting before I make a final decision. However, we ought to select a replacement for Milch.”
“So you have decided to sack him?” Peter asked.
“I don’t think we have a choice. Milch is an able administrator, but I cannot allow the military to defy the civilian leaders in the Reich.” The Generals in the Wehrmacht ignored Hitler anytime they thought they could get away with it, which was not necessarily a bad thing. But, if I allow Milch to do it, we will have no end of trouble.
“I certainly agree,” Rainer stated. “We have a lot of generals in the military who think they sit next to the throne of God. You have clearly communicated your expectations and allowed debate. You cannot allow them to second-guess your decisions. I’m surprised you have put up with Milch for this long.”
“I’ve had no alternative. But now we must find one.”
“I’ve been working on a list. I can have it for you tomorrow.”
“Good. I’ve got the American advisors coming to see me. I want to hear their read on the situation.”
“I think it would be dangerous not to have a replacement for Milch ready to go immediately,” Peter commented.
“Fine. I guess that is all I had this afternoon. Karl, the sooner you can get that list to me, the happier I’ll be.”
“I understand.”
Schloss stood up, as did the other two. Willem continued scribbling his notes. Finally, he snapped his notebook shut and stood up.
“Thank you for coming over on short notice, meine Herren.”
Peter waved a hand. “Always happy to help you out of your difficulties, Hennie.”
“Right.”
He watched them leave the room and sat back down with a sigh. He was happy to see Peter regaining his balance. He didn’t think they could survive without the three core members of the government actively contributing. Problems seemed to have no trouble finding Schloss. Things had settled down a bit after the bombing in Frankfurt. The Russians were quiescent for the moment. Then this problem with Milch flared up.
Be honest, Hennie, he thought to himself, you knew a confrontation with Milch was coming. He is too obsequious and also too much of a sneak. I was too surprised by the proposal to study the faces of the other officers in that room. I wonder what everyone thought.
He returned to the work that had piled up on his desk. The workload required compartmentalization. This afternoon many things demanded his attention. Tonight he would talk to Gisela about Milch. With Frau Marsden spending her days at Peter’s house, he had begun spending more time sharing his thoughts with his wife. And he had learned she was a good sounding board. She also had insight into the members of the government that he did not have.
On balance, having the old woman further away was a good thing, he thought. And he wondered if she had not intended that to be the case. He reminded himself that one day he would have to convince her to tell him where she really came from. She knew too much to be a simple German hausfrau.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
January 12, 1944; 7 AM
British Legation
Kabul, Afghanistan
“There is not a lot to do here,” Clarice Marty said as she looked down at her breakfast. “I don’t want to complain, but the food is not very good either.”
“Dear Love, I completely agree on both counts,” Colin Marty replied. “I did not think about what a benighted place this is. As far as the food, it’s the rare embassy that offers five-star accommodations. It’s worse here since we cannot get out to eat.”
“I don’t think I’d want to anyway,” she said. “Did you see the looks the locals gave us when we arrived?”
“This is a Moslem country. They keep their women covered head to toe and rarely let them out of the house, even. You are a foreigner in every sense of the word. It would be dangerous for you out there.”
She laughed nervously. “Well, I don’t want to go out, anyway. So, there’s that. The travel was fun and interesting. I assume we will be out of here soon.”
“I certainly hope so. The talks have gone surprisingly well. Both the Japanese and the Americans seem motivated to bring the war to a conclusion.”
“But what about us, Darling?”
“I suppose we could carry the war to the Japanese without American help, but it would be pointless, I think. Not fighting is often preferable to fighting if you can achieve your goals.”
“But can we just let them get away with what they did in Australia? I mean, they murdered tens of thousands of our subjects.”
“Therein lies the rub,” Colin said. “The Japanese are giving us a large degree of freedom to investigate the murders and deal with the malefactors. But, how can you even atone for something like that?”
“I don’t think you can. If I were an Australian, I would want to march into Tokyo with blood in my eye. And, actually, as an Englishwoman, I want pretty much the same thing.”
“The Americans are facing the same dilemma, My Dear. What the Japanese did in Australia was not on the same scale as what they did in Hawaii, but it was still north of twenty-five-thousand people who perished. Fortunately, the bulk of the population was able to hide out in the hills somehow. But in either case, it was horrible, Clarice.”
“Could we continue the war, then?”
“We have the bigger fleet so that we could bottle them up on their home islands. But they have a much larger army. I don’t think we could successfully invade. And I don’t think the Commons would want to raise funds necessary to keep up a blockade on the other side of the world for very long.”
“So, then, we need to settle the war,” she said bitterly.
“I think you have the right of it. We need to take home the best deal we can to the queen.”
She stirred her fork around in the watery eggs and then looked around the room. “Stone and plaster. Stone and mud. Not the most exciting architecture. The only thing they spend any money on is their mosques.”
“You have to admit that the same thing is true where our cathedrals are concerned.”
“Yes, but that is one of the reasons we overthrew the prelates. We sent the Pope packing.”
He patted her hand as he struggled to eat a piece of limp bacon. If they had to stay here for very long, he was not sure he could suffer the food.
“You know,” she continued, “I think I’m just as happy to rattle around here in the legation. I’d as soon spit in the eye of one of the Nips as to talk to him.”
He laughed softly. “Fortunately, or unfortunately, we are talking to some of the honorable Japanese. They are as horrified as we are about what their countrymen did.”
“Do you believe that, Colin?”
“Yes, I think I do. Secretary Knox knew these men before the war and thinks highly of them. It seems that Yamamoto engineered the unprovoked attack on Pearl Harbor, but he did it under the emperor's direct command. Shimada is beside himself concerning the atrocities.”
“I suppose we do not have a choice but to treat with them,” she said.
He shook his head. “I console myself in the fact that by ending the war, we are saving possibly hundreds of thousands of lives. However, if Japan wants to rejoin the family of nations, they will have a lot of work to do. And it will take decades.”
“How are the talks going, Darling? Really?”
“Quite well. The Japanese are constrained by culture. There are some concessions they are unable to make.”
“Unable or unwilling?”
He smiled. “Therein lies the question. Unable, we think. Secretary Knox demanded that the emperor be deposed and that we establish a military government comprised of British and Americans. They agreed to consider a military presence in Tokyo. But they flatly refused to accept any demands concerning the emperor. Shimada stated emphatically that the Japanese would all fight to the death if the honor of the emperor was in question.”
“I thought the emperor started the war.”
“There is some question as to who drove who to start the war, but the emperor was definitely a member of the war party. But the Japanese view the emperor as a god and worship him. It’s hard to find an exact analogy, but perhaps it might be like if we had surrendered to the Nazis and they demanded we raze our churches and cathedrals.”
“Wouldn’t bother me,” she replied. “all the money they collect would be better off going into the treasury.”
“I tend to agree, but we are much more secular in our outlook. As I said, it’s difficult to make up an analogy.”
“It’s probably a good thing I am stuck here in the legation. You are the diplomatic one in the family.”
“Yes, but you’re the pretty one.”
“Butter me up, will you?”
“I was just thinking of ways we could while away the evening hours.”
“Lech!”
§ § §
January 13, 1944; 7 AM
Prime Minister’s Office
Tokyo, Japan
“The daily report from Kabul, Sir,” Yamamoto’s secretary said, handing him the carefully scribed document. The Prime Minister took the message and glanced at it.
“Just in time, too. If I don’t get under weigh, I will be late for my audience with the emperor. I can read through this on the way.”
He shrugged into his uniform jacket and shot the cuffs. He walked over to a closet in his office and opened the door. On the inside was a full-length mirror. He studied his appearance and nodded in satisfaction. Picking up the document again, he walked quickly out of the office. Across the hallway, the elevator waited. Downstairs, he made his way through the lobby and outside, where his car sat at the curb. Once in the car, he quickly read through the report. Though the news wasn’t bad, it wasn’t necessarily good, either. It looked like Shimada was doing as well as could be expected.
More problematic was the possible reaction of the Emperor. He had been more combative in recent meetings and tried to reassert authority. Yamamoto had warned the guard captain to watch him closely. If the emperor managed to co-opt anyone in the current government’s circle, they would have difficulty trying to tamp things down again.
If the emperor asserted his authority, the people would naturally follow, as would the rest of the government and the military. Yamamoto would be out of office and likely dead. Now that he had some optimism for ending a hopeless war, he discovered that he wanted to live.
A pair of coal braziers warmed the Emperor’s Receiving Hall. Not only were they insufficient, but Yamamoto wondered how the emperor avoided being poisoned by the things. Immediately after he entered the room, his eyes started burning from the foul air.
He marched across the room to the foot of the throne and bowed deeply. In the months since Hirohito had placed him in the Prime Minister’s office, he had come to know the emperor better. Although he respected the emperor, he no longer was in awe. Hirohito was a fallible human who had quite forgotten why he had summoned Yamamoto to appoint him as the Prime Minister.
“What things do you bring this morning for our decision, Prime Minister?” the emperor asked in his reedy voice. He used the word our in the royal sense. He expected to make the decisions Yamamoto already made.
“Highness, I have reports from our emissaries in Kabul. They have made great progress with the Americans and the British.”
“Have the Americans and British accepted the demand that they bow before us?”
“As I said, Highness, we are making progress. We have been gracious, and they have responded well. I believe we will have a satisfactory peace in just a few weeks.”
“If we achieve our aims, that will be a very good thing, Prime Minister.”
“Highness, Admiral Shimada has been given clear instructions. We will achieve our aims. If not, we will force them to accede to our will.”
“As well they should. Why are my friends not allowed to see me?”
“Highness, I will check to see why they have not come to see you.”
“Very well. I am not happy about that, Prime Minister.”
“I understand, Highness. Shall we talk about the economy?”
“I have been concerned about the factories being shuttered.”
“This is because we are unable to import critical materials, Highness. We are getting some from the East Indies, but our losses to submarines are becoming serious.”
“Then you must stop the enemy submarines. They cannot be allowed to pillage our shipping.”
“This is something we are working on.”
“What exactly are you doing to stop the depredations of the enemy submarines?” Hirohito asked.
“We are constructing more anti-submarine ships – destroyers and destroyer escorts. Our destroyer captains are effective, but they cannot be everywhere.”
“Very well.”
Yamamoto wondered why Hirohito was so petulant this morning. When told about the conference in Kabul, he had initially been enthusiastic. Had someone managed to get to the man? That was something the government did not need. The emperor had to remain pliable and follow the Prime Minister’s guidance. It was the only way he would survive. It was the only way for Japan to survive.
He was bathed in sweat when he left the audience chamber, not because it was particularly warm in there. The emperor was increasingly unpredictable, and nobody needed that. If they did not manage to stop this war, they would likely die, and Japan would be destroyed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
January 15, 1944; 7 AM
USS Hamburg
Western Pacific Ocean
The day was rapidly brightening, and the winter sun would soon be over the sill. Commander Carper scanned the horizon with his binoculars and tried not to let his nervousness show. They were way too close to the Japanese home islands to be on the surface in daylight. The diesels muttered their basso counterpoint to the sound of the seas brushing past the bow.
He glanced up at the crew repairing the snorkel mast. Since they were giving him regular progress reports, he didn’t bother them. Besides, they were as aware of the risks as he was. If they had to dive suddenly, the ladders and the tools would likely go overboard in the rush. And they would be slow to submerge.
The talker stiffened. He put his hand to the earpiece and pointed to the skipper. Carper opened the water-tight door and pulled out the handset.
“This is the Skipper.”
“This is the Exec. Radar has a surface contact about twenty miles out. It’s on a steady bearing, Sir.”
“Speed?”
“Unknown at this time. We should have a speed for you in five minutes or so.”
“Very well. Cut the diesels and switch to batteries. Keep us at steerage.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
“And keep me posted, Tom.”
“Aye, aye, Skipper.”
