some were saying.
Also, nobody had forgotten that the war with Japan continued to rage with the Japanese military getting more and more fanatical in their resistance. The war in the Pacific was developing into a bloodbath. Could the American public handle two such wars?
The soldiers’ petition was his first domestic crisis, and he had to wonder whether there was merit to their proposal. He also had to wonder whether he had enough clout in Congress to continue with the war against Germany’s new regime. Nobody said the job would be easy, he mused.
And then there were the Russians.
“What the hell are they doing? Now, months after the Soviets abandon us they attack Japan?” He turned to Acheson. “And what did your good commie friend Gromyko have to say about this?”
Acheson shrugged. He had concluded his usual unsatisfactory meeting with the Russian ambassador only an hour earlier. “I would rather have a viper as a friend than Gromyko. I believe it was the usual pack of lies. He tried to say that they were responding to our needs by attacking our enemy, Japan. When I tried to tell him that invading Manchuria would do nothing to help Eisenhower, he simply shrugged. In my opinion, the invasion of Manchuria is another land grab by Stalin. I believe he feels that the Japanese army is so weakened that Soviet armor will punch through without much difficulty and they will wind up owning Manchuria and perhaps northern China. They will also be in a position to aid the Chinese communists if they so desire and simply crush Chiang Kai- shek’s corrupt and ripe-for-failure Nationalist armies.”
Truman turned to Marshall. “Can they do that?”
“Without too much difficulty,” Marshall said. “We believe the Japs have been pulling their best front line forces back to Japan in anticipation of our invading the Home Islands. Even though the weather at this time of year in Manchuria is terrible at best, the Soviets have already mauled Japanese armies in battles prior to this war’s beginning. The Japs cannot stand up to Russian armor and their other weaponry is really second rate at best.”
“On a marginally positive note,” Acheson said, “Gromyko insisted that rumors of a Russian invasion of Turkey are untrue, and that they simply moved some of their forces to the Turkish border to let them rest.”
“Do you believe him?” Truman asked.
“About as far as I can throw him,” Acheson said grimly. “Before you became President, sir, we did make the point that we considered both Turkey and Greece in our sphere of influence. We did so unofficially and without FDR’s knowledge. Given his state of health and his feelings that Stalin was an honest broker, we did not think he would concur with our initiatives.”
Truman nodded. “And how many secrets are you keeping from me now, Mister Acheson?”
The other man was unfazed and simply smiled frostily. “Well sir, if I told you then they wouldn’t be secrets, now would they?”
Otto Skorzeny enjoyed the flicker of fear on the face of Werner Heisenberg as he entered the physicist’s cluttered office. He did not consider himself to be a particularly cruel man, but it did give him a sense of power to see others cringe when he confronted them. Size, strength, and those wicked dueling scars on his face frequently came in useful.
“When can you move the bomb?” he asked.
“Not for a couple of months,” Heisenberg stammered. The stress of producing a true super-weapon was overwhelming and was beginning to affect his health. The scientist was pale and his hair was turning gray.
“You have two weeks,” Skorzeny said.
Heisenberg was shocked. “That’s too soon. The components might be ready, but the people who will detonate the bomb need to be trained in its assembly and the steps needed to detonate it.”
“You know what to do, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Heisenberg said and then his face fell. “Oh, no.”
Skorzeny laughed. “Oh yes, Professor Heisenberg. You and a small staff will accompany the bomb on its journey to the heart of Russia. And it will do you no good to protest. It’s been decided by Reichsfuhrer Himmler himself. If the bomb does as promised you will be a hero to the Reich. If it doesn’t, you won’t wish to be in or near Berlin.”
“But why so soon?”
“Himmler is concerned that the Reds are beginning to move their armies back into position and will attack Germany at the height of the battle for the Rhine. Your bomb is the only way we can prevent such a stab in the back from the Bolsheviks from happening. Oh yes, you will leave notes behind so that the weapon can be reconstructed should that prove desirable.”
“I don’t speak Russian,” Heisenberg said, grasping at straws.
“You won’t have to. Others will take part in any conversations necessary. If anybody does question your and the others’ presence, they will be told that you are captured German scientists, which is true in a way, isn’t it?”
“But if I am captured, the Russians will be able to extract all our nuclear secrets from me.”
Skorzeny shook his head. The poor academic fool didn’t understand. “Doctor, you will not be captured. I will be right there with you and, should that unhappy event seem likely, I will personally blow your brains out.”
Heisenberg understood and nodded solemnly. A quick and merciful death would be better than an eternity in the hands of the Russians. Or the Gestapo, for that matter. “And what about my family, especially if I should fail?”
“They are of no interest to us. They will be left alone. I am a soldier and I kill Germany’s enemies, Doctor, I am not a murderer.”
Heisenberg managed a small smile. “And tell me, Colonel, where will you be when the bomb goes off in the heart of Moscow?”
“And just what the fuck is this?” Sergeant Tyree Walls asked. “It looks like an abortion on wheels.”
Normally, Walls wouldn’t have spoken like that to a white man, but this sergeant at a huge motor pool outside the channel city of Cherbourg seemed to be an okay kind of guy.
Sergeant Copland laughed. “What’s the matter? You don’t recognize a General Motors truck?”
Walls returned the laugh. “I recall seeing a picture of something called a platypus, Copland, and this is just like it, neither fish nor fowl.”
Walls read the poop sheet he’d been given. It was called a DUKW and, surprise, pronounced Duck. It was built by the Yellow Truck Division of General Motors on top of a standard 6X6 cab-over chassis. It weighed six and a half tons and could go fifty miles an hour on the ground and, real surprise, six in water. The damn thing was a boat. Now he knew where he’d seen the thing-in newsreels of the Normandy landings.
So what the hell was he doing looking at an amphibious machine that could go both in water and on land?
Oh shit-The Rhine.
Copland read his mind. “That’s right, Sergeant, you and a whole bunch of others are going to be driving these abortions across the Rhine and right into the heart of Germany.”
“I thought the navy drove ships.”
“Small things like this are called boats, not ships, and I understand the navy isn’t at all interested in providing drivers for these.”
“I see where these things can have machine guns mounted. Can I have one? Might not hit anything, but it’d feel good.”
“I can almost guarantee it.”
Walls shook his head. He knew when he’d been fucked. “Just out of curiosity, Sergeant Copland, where the hell will you be when I’m cruising the Rhine?”
“Maybe right alongside you, Sergeant Walls. I’ll be skippering one of these things as well.”
