“That can’t be helped, of course,” Himmler said airily. “There’s a lot of ground to be covered.”
“I can imagine. Of course, I’ve been looking forward to this, since your new appointment.”
It was just two months since Himmler had taken over from Frank as minister of the interior, and the speech at Posen was meant to demonstrate that the change was not merely cosmetic: whereas previously the Fuhrer had counted on the support of the German people, Himmler intended to show that now he relied exclusively on the power of the SS.
“Thank you, my dear fellow. Some wine?”
“Yes, thanks.”
As Himmler poured the wine, he asked, “How is Annelies? And your son?”
“Well, thank you. And Haschen?”
Haschen was what Himmler called his bigamous wife, Hedwig. The Reichsfuhrer was not yet divorced from his wife, Marga. Twelve years younger than the forty-three-year-old Himmler, Haschen was his former secretary and the proud mother of his two-year-old son, Helge-try as he might, von Ribbentrop couldn’t get used to calling children by these new Aryan names.
“She is well, too.”
“Will she be joining us in Posen? It’s your birthday this week, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. But, no, we’re going to meet at Hochwald. The Fuhrer has invited us to the Wolfschanze.”
The Wolfschanze was Hitler’s field headquarters in East Prussia, and Hochwald was the house Himmler had built, twenty-five kilometers to the east of the Fuhrer’s sprawling compound in the forest.
“We don’t see you there very much anymore, von Ribbentrop.”
“There’s very little a diplomat can do at a military headquarters, Heinrich. So I prefer to stay in Berlin, where I can be of more use to the Fuhrer.”
“You’re quite right to avoid it, my dear fellow. It’s a terrible place. Stifling in summer and freezing in winter. Thank God I don’t have to stay there. My own house is in a considerably healthier part of the countryside. Sometimes I think the only reason the Fuhrer endures the place is so he can feel at one with the privations endured by the ordinary German soldier.”
“There’s that. And another reason, of course. So long as he stays there he doesn’t have to see the bomb damage in Berlin.”
“Perhaps. Either way, it’s Munich’s turn tonight.”
“Is it?”
“Some three hundred RAF bombers.”
“Christ!”
“I dread what is to come, Joachim. I don’t mind telling you. That is why we must do all we can to succeed with our diplomatic efforts. It is imperative that we make a peace with the Allies before they open a second front next year.” Himmler relit his cigar and puffed it carefully. “Let us hope that the Americans can yet be persuaded to put aside this insane business of unconditional surrender.”
“I still think you should have allowed the Foreign Ministry to speak to this man Hewitt. After all, I’ve lived in America.”
“Come now, Joachim. It was Canada, was it not?”
“No. New York, too. For a month or two, anyway.”
Himmler remained silent for a moment, studying the end of his cigar with diplomatic interest.
Von Ribbentrop smoothed his graying blond hair and tried to control the muscle twitching in his right cheek that seemed only too obviously a manifestation of his irritation with the Reichsfuhrer-SS. That Himmler should have sent Dr. Felix Kersten to Stockholm to conduct secret negotiations with Roosevelt’s special representative instead of him was a matter of no small exasperation to the foreign minister.
“Surely, you can see how ridiculous it is,” von Ribbentrop persisted, “that I, an experienced diplomat, should have to take a backseat to-to your chiropractor.”
“Not just mine. I seem to remember he treated you, too, Joachim. Successfully, I might add. But there were two reasons why I asked Felix to go to Stockholm. For one thing, he’s Scandinavian himself and able to conduct himself in the open. Unlike you. And, well, you’ve met Felix and you know how gifted he is and how persuasive he can be. I don’t think magnetic is too strong a word for the effect he can have on people. He even managed to persuade this American, Abram Hewitt, to let him treat him for back pain, which provided a very useful cover for their talks.” Himmler shook his head. “I confess I did think it was possible that under the circumstances Felix might actually achieve some influence on Hewitt. But so far, this has not proved to be the case.”
“Abram. Is he a Jew?”
“I’m not sure. But, yes, probably.” Himmler shrugged. “But that can’t be allowed to matter.”
“You’ve spoken to Kersten?”
“This evening on the telephone, before I left Berlin. Hewitt told Felix that he thought negotiations could only begin after we have made a move to get rid of Hitler.”
At this mention of the unmentionable, both men grew silent.
Then von Ribbentrop said, “The Russians aren’t nearly so narrow in their thinking. As you know, I’ve met Madame de Kollontay, their ambassador in Sweden, on a number of occasions. She says Marshal Stalin was shocked that Roosevelt made this demand for unconditional surrender without even consulting him. All the Soviet Union really cares about is the restoration of its pre-1940 borders and a proper level of financial compensation for her losses.”
“Money, of course,” snorted Himmler. “It goes without saying that’s the only thing these Communists are interested in. All Stalin really wants is Russia’s factories rebuilt at Germany’s expense. And Eastern Europe handed to him on a plate, of course. Yes, by God, the Allies are going to find out damn soon that we’re all that stands between them and the Popovs.
“You know, I’ve made a special study of the Popovs,” continued Himmler, “and it’s my conservative calculation that so far the war has cost the Red Army more than two million dead, prisoners, and disabled. It’s one of the things I’m going to speak about in Posen. I expect them to sacrifice at least another two million during their winter offensive. Already the SS Division ‘Das Reich’ reports that, in some cases, the divisions opposing us have contained whole companies of fourteen-year-old boys. Mark my words, by next spring they’ll be using twelve-year- old girls to fight us. What happens to Russian youth is a matter of total indifference to me, of course, but it tells me that human life means absolutely nothing to them. And it never ceases to amaze me that the British and the Americans can accept as their allies a people capable of sacrificing ten thousand women and children to build a tank ditch. If that is what the British and the Americans are willing to base their continued existence on, then I don’t see how they’re in any position to lecture us on the proper conduct of the war.”
Von Ribbentrop sipped some of Himmler’s wine, although he much preferred the champagne he had been drinking in his own carriage, and shook his head. “I don’t believe that Roosevelt knows the nature of the beast to which he has chained himself,” he said. “Churchill is much better informed about the Bolshevik and, as he has said, he would make an ally of the devil in order to defeat Germany. But I really don’t think Roosevelt can have any real conception of the gross brutality of his ally.”
“And yet we know for a fact he was informed of the Katyn Forest massacre’s true authors,” said Himmler.
“Yes, but did he believe it?”
“How could he not believe it? The evidence was incontrovertible. The dossier that was compiled by the German War Crimes Bureau would have established Russian guilt in the eyes of even the most impartial observer.”
“But surely that’s the point,” said von Ribbentrop. “Roosevelt is hardly impartial. With the Russians continuing to deny their culpability, Roosevelt can choose not to believe the authority of his own eyes. If he had believed it, we would have heard something. It’s the only possible explanation.”
“I fear you may be right. They prefer to believe the Russians to us. And there’s little chance of proving otherwise. Not now that Smolensk is back under Russian control. So we must find another way to enlighten the Americans.” Himmler collected a thick file off his desk and handed it to von Ribbentrop, who, noticing that Himmler was wearing not one but two gold rings, wondered for a moment if they were both wedding bands from each of his two wives. “Yes, I think that I might send him that,” said Himmler.
Von Ribbentrop put on reading glasses and moved to open the file. “What is it?” he asked, suspiciously.
