Germans in order to avoid needless casualties. He could not blame them.
“You can do better,” Truman snapped, causing both Churchill and Speer to look startled.
Speer recovered quickly. “We will further direct the garrisons of Dunkirk, Lorient, St. Nazaire, and the Channel Islands to surrender immediately. That will free up one more of your divisions. The 66th, I believe.”
The president knew that freeing one division, particularly one that he knew had not yet seen battle, was a drop in the bucket, but it was a start.
“Good,” said Truman. “Now just what do you want out of this?”
The bluntness of the question made Churchill smile. It did not faze Speer. “Mr. President, my government is anxious that Germany not be overrun by the Russians and enslaved by her.”
“Some say it would be what you deserved.” Truman looked like he was beginning to enjoy himself.
“My country, sir, is trying now to free itself from the shackles of Nazism. Germany has a right to exist, just like every other nation. The fact that we made a major mistake and allowed a madman to reign should not condemn a people to extermination or the living hell of perpetual slavery.”
Neither Truman nor Churchill was surprised by Speer’s calling Hitler a madman. Late in the war, Speer had become totally disillusioned with Hitler, had blocked his orders to burn Germany to the ground, and had even contemplated assassinating Hitler, but the opportunity had not arisen.
“Yet,” Truman persisted, “both you and Doenitz were Nazis. In point of fact, wasn’t your Admiral Doenitz one of the few ranking navy officers to embrace Hitler thoroughly?”
“It is sad but true,” Speer answered. “I too will have to answer for my actions in employing millions of slave laborers to help run the industry of the Reich. I felt it was unavoidable and essential at the time and, I will not lie, I might do it again under the same circumstances.
“As to Admiral Doenitz, he did become an ardent Nazi and, like so many others, myself included, firmly believed that Hitler was the savior of a downtrodden Germany, and, also like so many, turned a blind eye to the man’s faults and the atrocities that have been committed in his name.
“Should you accept our offer of surrender, Great Britain and the United States will not have to worry about the German army and air force during this war with Russia. At worst, the German units will be interned after surrender. At best?” He smiled and shrugged.
Finally, Churchill spoke. “Can you speak for all Germans, Herr Speer? Isn’t there a rival to Admiral Doenitz?”
Speer’s answer was confident, and Truman had the feeling that at least this part of the conversation had been rehearsed. After all, hadn’t Churchill and Speer arrived together?
“Rivals? Hardly. The only senior members of the old regime who might still be a factor are Himmler, Goering, and Bormann. Himmler is with Doenitz but under arrest, and Goering is wandering about Germany, apparently alone, while Bormann is either hiding in some Berlin cellar or already dead. No, gentlemen, there are no rivals to the admiral.”
“What about war crimes, Mr. Speer?” Truman asked. “Haven’t you just admitted your own culpability in that area?”
“Yes,” Speer responded, “and I am personally willing to take the consequences for those actions when the time is appropriate. Regarding other so-called war criminals, however, I am aware that any peace between us will doubtless result in the lesser criminals going free to be judged only by God. The major criminals, such as those SS and Gestapo men and women who murdered people and ran the death camps, can still be caught and prosecuted.”
Truman nodded. Unfortunately, there was a sad kind of logic to what Speer was saying. Germany had to be removed as an enemy. Even though she and her armies were largely in Allied hands, there still remained the potential for disaster if even the remnants of German armies remained on the loose to fight whomever they wished.
Truman realized he really didn’t have much choice. It was time to make a deal with the devil and it was apparent that Churchill had already come to that conclusion.
“All right,” Truman said. “I assume you have the power to act on Doenitz’s behalf; therefore, you will radio him that we have an agreement in principle and that the German armies still in the field are to lay down their arms to us and the British. I would also like some indication as to whether or not the German people will actively support the Allies, especially regarding information and resistance from behind the Soviet lines.”
Speer nodded and made a note.
“On the other hand,” Truman continued, “I do not think it appropriate for you to even think of German soldiers fighting alongside Americans and British at this time. The German armies must surrender and become prisoners, not allies.”
“Sir,” Speer said, “my admiral is currently at Flensburg on the Danish border, with most of what remains of the German army, perhaps a half million men. I propose that these units remain in the area north of the Kiel Canal and south of Denmark to preserve the polite fiction that we are still an independent nation. We would also serve as a buffer between the Russians and the Danes should the British be forced to retreat beyond Hamburg, which, I must say, seems quite likely.”
Truman could scarcely believe what he was hearing. The Germans were willing to protect Denmark? What had his world come to?
Speer continued. “However, if you wish us to form a buffer, we will require food. Simply put, both the German army and the Danes are starving. Will you get us food?”
“That sounds reasonable,” Truman heard himself say. “And if you are overrun and have to leave this Flensburg place, we can establish a government in exile somewhere, perhaps”-he grinned evilly at Churchill-“in London.” Churchill’s jaw dropped at the thought.
“Excellent,” said Speer with the touch of a smile.
“And now we lie down with the devil,” Truman murmured, and Churchill nodded. “Tell me, do you have any thoughts on defeating the Soviets?”
Speer smiled. “Why yes, I do.”
Tony the Toad saw the Russian a scant second before the Russian saw him. It was enough. It was almost dark, and the Russian soldier had turned the corner of the building and was almost upon Tony. Sensing the recognition of danger on the other man’s face, Tony pulled his wide-bladed knife from its sheath on his belt and rammed it deep into the Russian’s throat, causing the man’s head to snap back at a ridiculous angle. The dying man gurgled, clutched the air a couple of times, and fell backward, leaving the sticky knife in Tony’s hand.
There was a sharp intake of breath behind him. It was Vaslov. “Mother of God, what have you done?”
Tony wiped the knife on some leaves. “Killed a fucking Commie, what the hell’s it look like? And what the hell was I supposed to have done? He was close enough to kiss me, for Christ’s sake.”
Despite his brave words, Tony was shaking so badly he could hardly sheathe the knife. This Russian was the first man he had ever killed close up. Any others had occurred while firing a tank’s machine gun, and the effect was often unknown. This was too personal and he wanted to vomit from the stink of the blood that was beginning to coagulate at his feet.
Vaslov looked closely at the dead Russian’s throat. “What a nasty wound. You are good, Tony. And thank God you didn’t use your rifle, the sound might have attracted too much attention.”
Tony took a deep breath and got some control of himself. Had he gone for his Garand, he would be dead. “Thanks. Now don’t you think we should get the hell out of here? This asshole surely had friends who are gonna miss him.”
Vaslov smiled. “Very likely.” He gestured to a couple of the others, who came and saw the sight and nodded appreciatively at Tony’s handiwork. Counting Tony, there were now ten in the growing little group. One of them picked up the Russian’s submachine gun and his pistol, along with spare ammunition.
“Help me remove his clothes,” Vaslov asked.
“What the hell for?” Tony snarled. “I ain’t undressing no corpse.”
“Tony,” Vaslov chuckled, “perhaps this uniform, which might just fit one of us, could prove useful. See this symbol on his collar?” Tony looked and nodded. It was a vertical sword within an oval wreath. In the fading light he thought the background might have been blue with a red trim.
“Yeah. Kinda pretty.”
Vaslov chuckled. “Better than pretty, Tony, this man was an officer in the NKVD, the Russian secret police.
