hundreds of American fighter-bombers converging on his position. He whooped with glee as they began their drops through the fading curtain of fog.
Joachim Pieper could also see his shadow. More precisely he could see the shadow of his tank, Sigurd, on the ground. Overhead they could hear the growl and whine of vast numbers of American planes. In a moment they would be through the rising cloud level and rain hell on what was left of his Panzers.
While he was annihilating the American tanks in his rear, his infantry had gone ahead and tried to storm the American lines. He could see the ground covered with their dead. At least they’d died more bravely than he’d suspected they could. It appeared that they’d made some penetration in the American defenses, but he could hear enemy automatic weapons firing. No, the Volkssturm and the few SS troops would not carry the day. They needed his armor.
He opened his hatch and looked around. Fewer than a score of tanks remained in his command. He looked ahead and squinted at something reflecting in the distance. Was that the Rhine? Was he that close to success?
A plane screamed low overhead and dropped a bomb. Two of his remaining tanks were engulfed in a sea of napalm. He paled as reality sank in. His tanks could not go forward. He had too few of them, but still, he could not stand still or retreat. The American planes would kill them all.
Another tank burst into flames. “Goodbye Sigurd,” he said, hoping he was saying farewell to his tank and not to his wife.
Pieper gave the order and his men climbed out of their remaining tanks and began to run to the rear. Maybe, just maybe, the American planes would pleasure themselves by shooting up abandoned German armor.
He’d gone only a few yards when a napalm bomb detonated nearby and consumed him in a billowing cloud of flame.
CHAPTER 26
The men outside Himmler’s closed office door stared in shock and horror at the thing coming toward them. The man’s hair was white and stood out in clumps on his head. His cheeks were gaunt and his eyes wide like a lunatic’s.
Otto Skorzeny had returned from hell.
When a female secretary tried to halt him, Skorzeny pushed her aside with surprising strength and entered Himmler’s inner sanctum. The Reichsfuhrer looked up. His face registered the same shock and horror. “Good God, you look awful.”
Two OKW generals were in the office and Skorzeny waved them out. They scuttled away like frightened insects. Skorzeny closed the door behind them. “And so do you, my dear Reichsfuhrer.”
Himmler had lost weight and his hands were twitching. His eyes were red from lack of sleep and stress. Skorzeny laughed. “You bet and you lost didn’t you, Himmler?”
Himmler was annoyed at the familiarity, but endured it. Word was arriving that the great and final assault against the Amis had failed disastrously. While a few units had indeed pushed through to the Rhine, they’d been small and few in number and the Americans had quickly annihilated them. Dietrich’s Reserve Army had been destroyed. The carefully husbanded armored force had been smashed by American artillery, armor, and waves of planes from the skies. Dietrich himself was nowhere to be found and there rumors he’d committed suicide. Von Rundstedt had also left Berlin, possibly before Himmler could have him shot. It was over.
“Where are you going to run to?” Skorzeny asked. “I hear Argentina’s a good place. Me, I’d prefer Spain. We have a good friend in Franco.” Francisco Franco was the fascist dictator of Spain and, although officially neutral, was deeply sympathetic to the Nazi cause.
Himmler blinked. Of course it would be Argentina. Perhaps a small-fry like Skorzeny could hide in Spain, but not him. He and the rest of the Nazi hierarchy would be welcome in Argentina where they could begin planning anew.
“Where’s Heisenberg?”
“Dead of the same radiation poison that nearly killed me. I’m getting better, or haven’t you noticed?”
Himmler sniffed. “Frankly, Otto, I’ve seen better looking corpses. A shame. I was hoping he would make us another bomb or two to use against the Americans.”
“Before he died, Heisenberg said it would take a large team several years to construct another one, assuming we had the resources, which we don’t.”
“You’re right, we don’t. But there’s always a chance to succeed in another manner. We will use what resources we do have to at least make a radiation bomb. Explosives wrapped in what uranium we have will make a deadly concoction.”
Skorzeny listened in disbelief. “But you would have to detonate it in Germany. And if you did, the Americans would drop some of their own atomic bombs on our heads, or had you forgotten what they are up to in New Mexico?”
Himmler snarled. “I forget nothing. Regardless, I have a task for you. Our beloved generals are planning a coup. They are going to try to overthrow me and place Rommel in my stead. Apparently that was von Rundstedt’s plan all along, which is why Rommel didn’t have a field command. Von Rundstedt and the other generals seem to think that Rommel is saintly enough to make him acceptable to the Allies. My intelligence says Rommel is on his way to Berlin with several thousand soldiers loyal to him. They are to arrest me, and doubtless you as well.”
Himmler’s hands shook as he lit a cigarette. “Your orders are simple, Skorzeny, you are to intercept Rommel and kill him. That will buy all of us time. My staff estimates we have two to three months before the Allies arrive here.”
Skorzeny laughed. It came out as a cackle. “You have maybe three weeks, Reichsfuhrer. Yes, Dietrich did maul the American First Army before he and his men ceased to exist, but Patton’s Third is beginning to run loose to the First’s south. And, in case you’ve forgotten, Montgomery’s entire army group is also starting to cross the Rhine to the north. Not even he will take two to three months to drive to Berlin. The English want your head on a platter as much as the Americans do.”
“We’ll stop them at the Elbe,” Himmler said.
Skorzeny scoffed. “Compared with the Rhine, the Elbe is a stream a man can piss across. The Elbe won’t even slow down the Amis. They will ride up in their little ducks and simply drive across. Himmler, half the army is dead, wounded, or captured, while the other half is looking for a way to surrender or is burying their uniforms and trying to pretend they are civilians. Maybe a few of your fanatics will delay the Allies for a short while, but that is all.”
“We must have time,” Himmler said stubbornly, his voice breaking.
Skorzeny stood and paced, winding up beside Himmler. “Perhaps you have an eternity,” he said.
In one fluid motion, he removed the knife he’d hidden in his sleeve, slipped it into his hand and drew it across Himmler’s throat. The Reichsfuhrer’s eyes widened in shock and he tried to speak. Copious amounts of blood poured out of the wide gash and onto his desk. A few seconds later he slumped forward, dead.
Skorzeny wiped the blade on Himmler’s sleeve and replaced it. He’d been frisked but not carefully. For some reason, no one had wanted to touch him.
He opened the door a little and backed out. “Heil Himmler,” he said and gave the Nazi salute to the dead man only he could see. He closed the door behind him.
Skorzeny stared at the people waiting to see Himmler. “The Reichsfuhrer had just been given information that he must study. He requires at least an hour of privacy, perhaps more. After that he will call you. On his orders, you are not to bother him.”
Heads bobbed in understanding. Fools, Skorzeny thought. He went downstairs and outside to where Davidov awaited with a staff car. The Russian had also recovered from his radiation poison and other injuries.
