“That may be possible, Sir. What were his responsibilities here in Hawaii?”

  “Primarily explosive ordnance disposal. But, as you know, we have been shorthanded. When you have someone with Conn’s capabilities, you will naturally assign him to many tasks.”

  “Including unloading an ammunition ship?”

  “Precisely.”

  The two men stared at each other for a few moments, and then Jorgensen visibly jumped. “You don’t suppose….”

  Mathers grimaced. “I need to talk to your Corporal.”

  At that moment, the Sergeant knocked on the door before opening it.

  “Corporal Clay, Sirs.”

  A frightened-looking Army Corporal marched into the office and jumped to attention before saluting.

  “Corporal Clay reporting as ordered, Sir.”

  “Corporal,” Jorgensen began,” this is Lieutenant Mathers. We have a few questions about your activities this morning.”

  “Yes, Sir. I took a fifteen-man detail to the pier where we unloaded the Mount Hood.”

  “Captain Conn didn’t escort you to the pier?” Mathers asked.

  “No, Sir. He showed up about 10 minutes after we got there. He guided us on which trucks to load with what materials. It didn’t take very long, Sir. We had almost finished the unloading yesterday.”

  “And what happened, then, Corporal?” Mathers asked.

  “We loaded up and came back to the base, Sir.”

  “And Captain Conn was with you?”

  “No, Sir. He was riding with Private Parks. The captain told us he was being transferred stateside. I think he asked Parks to drive him to Hickam.”

  Mathers looked at Jorgensen. “Sir, is it normal to allow truckloads of ordinance to travel around the island without an escort?”

  “No, Lieutenant, it is not.”

  Clay turned pale. “Colonel, Sir, the captain said that you had given clearance for someone to drive him to Hickam Field.”

  Mathers rubbed his hand over his mouth. Even this early in the day, the sound of his hand grasping over whiskers was audible in the room.

  “Colonel Jorgensen, I suppose our next order of business is to locate Private Parks and that truck.”

  Jorgensen looked at the hapless Corporal. “Corporal Clay, do you have the ID number of the truck?”

  “Sir, it would be on the manifest as well as the trip ticket.”

  Jorgensen shouted, “Sergeant!”

  “Yes, Sir?” The Duty Sergeant said, opening the door.

  “It appears we have a truck and a driver missing. Please find out what truck private parks drove today and start calling the MPs on the island. I think we had better find it pretty damned quick!”

  “Yes, Sir,” the Sergeant barked and then immediately backed out of the office.

  “Do you need the Corporal any longer, Lieutenant?”

  “Sir, I would like him held at readiness. I need to have an extended conversation with him. But I believe we have other matters to attend to first.”

  “Very well, Lieutenant. You are dismissed to your tasks. Corporal Clay, you will wait in the outer office until we decide what to do next.”

  Jorgensen hoped that his actions would kick over the proverbial anthill because he had a bad feeling about this. Across the island, phones began ringing in MP offices and guard houses. If any of the remaining Japanese on the island got hold of a truckload of ordinance, they could make life difficult for the Americans.

  Lieutenant Jack Casteel of the Navy Shore Patrol saw the bulletin regarding the missing truck and wondered how the Army had managed to lose track of something like that. It was an article of faith among the naval officers that the doggie officers were adept at finding new ways of tying their shoelaces together. But losing a truckload of ammo seemed like a stretch even for them. Casteel had been in the Navy for fifteen years and could recall any number of times the Navy had to sweep up after the Army’s mishaps.

  The Shore Patrol Lieutenant thought about his current responsibility to provide security around the Royal Hawaiian Hotel for the peace conference. After what the Japanese had done to the people of Hawaii, Casteel had mixed feelings about negotiating with them. Nevertheless, he took his duties seriously. Leaving his desk, he put on his hat and walked to the outer office.

  “Chief, I’m going to take a walk around the hotel. Keep an eye on things.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir. Is there anything I need to pay attention to?”

  “You saw that bulletin. The Army managed to lose an ammo truck.”

  “I understand, Sir. God help us if any of the Japanese stay-behinds get their hands on that.”

  “Exactly.”

  As Casteel left the office, he heard Chief Corwin muttering under his breath about the doggies, including several expletives. Casteel began his walk around the hotel property, enjoying the lovely Hawaiian morning. It looked like the war was over, and he wondered if he would be allowed to stay in the Navy. Despite the horrors of the Japanese had inflicted upon the islands, Casteel considered this the best duty station in his naval career. He was even giving serious thought to living in Hawaii when he mustered out.

  Considering the situation, he thought it was a good idea to walk the property and get some idea of how the MPs were doing. After having been here two weeks, he felt his people seemed a bit slack. He was no martinet, but any job worth doing in the Navy should be done well.

  He walked around a corner and parked next to the building was a GMC Six by Six painted in Army olive drab. He pulled the message memo about the missing truck from his pocket and compared the number he was given with the number on the truck's back bumper. He felt the strength begin to train out of his legs, and he wanted to throw up. He turned and sprinted back to his office.

  “Chief,” he shouted, “get the building evacuated! That missing truck is here.”

  Casteel sprinted out of the office and ran to the front desk of the hotel. The desk clerks looked at him in surprise as he tried to catch his breath.

  “There may be a truck bomb on the east side of the building! Get the place evacuated.”

  Someone on the hotel staff had recent memories of the war and was also mindful of the VIPs staying in the house. The management had prepared procedures in the case of an air raid or other attack. The desk clerk pulled a sheet of paper from a drawer, looked at it, and immediately pointed to one of the other clerks.

  “Pull the fire alarm.” He pointed to the other clerk. “Tell the house staff to go door to door and make sure everyone is out. Use the master keys in case someone doesn’t want to answer the door.”

  The desk clerk ran from behind the counter and over to the hotel restaurant, which was serving the Friday brunch. He pulled out a chair from a table near the entrance and stood on it.

  “Listen to me, everybody. We need to evacuate the building right now. Please move out to the right from the front doors and get at least a block away. There may be a bomb.”

  There were shouts and a few shrieks, and people began streaming from the hotel restaurant. The desk clerk ran back across the lobby and slipped behind the counter into the small room where the switchboard operator worked. He picked up a handset next to the operator.

  Put me through to the American suite.”

  When he heard the answer, he began speaking immediately. “Gentlemen, this is the day manager. You must evacuate immediately. There may be a bomb. Go to the Northwest and avoid the east side of the building, understood?”

  Upon hearing the assent, he disconnected and turned to the operator. “Now connect me to the Japanese suite.”

  He worked his way through the rooms used by the guests who were here for the conference. He turned to the operator. “Now, you need to get out of here.”

  Without another word, the operator laid down her headset and walked quickly from the room. The day manager then trotted through the hotel to the kitchens and ordered everyone out. He then began making his way to housekeeping. He wondered how he could get everyone out of the hotel in time. Maybe this was a false alarm.

  Ambassador Cordell Hull breathed heavily, unaccustomed to the exertion as he walked among the people streaming away from the Royal Hawaiian hotel. Keeping pace with him, the Japanese Ambassador Mamoru seemed to be in better shape.

  “I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Ambassador,” Hull puffed. “We simply do not want to take chances right now.”

  He was interrupted when the ground quaked, and a cloud of flying debris enveloped the hotel building. Several people screamed, and others threw themselves to the ground. The shockwave blew dust and debris past them.

  The Army Douglas C-54 climbed out of Hickam Field and swung slightly to the right to fly parallel to the Honolulu beaches. Captain Gregory Conn was seated on the left side and had a nice view of the beautiful Hawaiian morning. He had other reasons for watching carefully and was rewarded with a large explosion that quickly enveloped the large, pink hotel building.

  There were cries of shock among the passengers, so Conn schooled a sober mien into his face. He grinned internally, though. It was a wonderful day.

  CHAPTER THREE

  March 5, 1944; 2 AM

  Potsdam, Germany

  Heinrich Schloss looked at his watch and grimaced. It had taken 30 hours to drive to Potsdam. Long as that was, it still seemed like an eternity to him. They had fought their way through roads clogged with refugees from Berlin. They had kept moving only by siphoning gas from other government vehicles, sometimes at gunpoint. They had stopped at several small hamlets, only to find out the telephones were not working.

  Rainer was functioning again, and he had commandeered a couple of hotel rooms in a small hostel in Potsdam. Schloss was finally able to get through to Guderian and von Rundstedt. The loss of Berlin, while catastrophic, was not as bad as it could have been. The Russians had halted to consolidate their gains which afforded the Wehrmacht time to stabilize Germany’s defenses. The Luftwaffe Fortresses were engaged in round-the-clock bombing raids on Russian supply lines and other installations. Guderian thought this was beginning to affect Russian efficiency. And their level of efficiency was not great in the best of times.

  Train loads of 250 kg bombs were beginning to arrive from German ports. Von Rundstedt told Schloss that Germany would have lost the war without the ordinance contributed by the British. As it was, no one was confident about the ultimate outcome.

  Along the way, Rainer and Strang had drafted a small collection of SS personnel to function as Schloss’s travel staff. Rainer did not consider the group secure; however, Schloss was far safer than he had been. Schloss had forced Rainer to call a halt. They were all exhausted, and Rainer was showing the effects of his head wound.

  Von Rundstedt had arranged for an aircraft to fly into the small airfield near Potsdam at first light. Schloss ordered Rainer to bed and designated Strang as second-in-command of security for the group. Then, Schloss laid down to grab two or three hours of sleep himself. He didn’t bother to remove his shoes and clothes.

  Once in the bed, which was not very comfortable anyway, Schloss’s mind kept reviewing his decisions leading up to the invasion. Surely, he could have done something different to prevent all this. He was the Reich Chancellor, and he was responsible. The people of Germany would surely blame him for this disaster, and rightfully so.

  Guderian was surprisingly optimistic, though. He was convinced the Russians had launched their spring offensive too early. True, they had achieved massive surprise. But they had burned through most of their ammunition in their sprint to Berlin. After the weather had finally cleared, the Luftwaffe Fortresses had effectively pulverized the Russian logistics train. The Russians would soon run out of ammunition, and then they would begin to get hungry.

  General Walter Model had managed to preserve the bulk of the German forces in the retreat. Although it had been a mistake to suspend operations for the winter, the troops and gear were in far better shape than anyone had believed. Rommel and Guderian were convinced the Russians had now presented them with a magnificent opportunity. They planned to continue harassing the Russians along the front and watch for the ammunition shortages to become apparent.

  They would then encircle the Russian salient and lop off the bulk of the Russian forces. It would be a lightning-quick thrust – a Rommel specialty and Guderian had a second phase up his sleeve. Once the Russian forces west of the Oder River were fully engaged, he would push four divisions out of Prague and block the Russian reserves from getting to the river.

  Schloss was convinced the second part of the plan was very risky and was tempted to order Guderian to cancel it. However, Russian troops were in German territory, and Russian boots marched through the streets of Berlin. Guderian explained that it would be dangerous to commit these forces against the Russians in a stand-up fight because the Russian forces were still superior. But he counted on the lack of food and ammunition to stampede the Russians and cause them to lose confidence.

  Schloss was turning these things over in his mind when Jan Binns tapped on the door and opened it slightly.

  “Herr Reich Chancellor, it is time to leave.”

  Schloss swung to his feet and stood. “Thank you, Corporal. Let’s go.”

  Schloss concluded he had gone to sleep after all. The heavy, relaxed feeling made it difficult for him to put one foot in front of the other, not to mention ordering his thoughts. And whatever sleep he had gotten, it was not enough. But he was still alive, which amazed him.

  After living in 1982 Berlin, Schloss never thought light bulbs in this milieu were bright enough. But, in the wan light of the lamps of the sitting room of the hotel suite, Rainer looked terrible. Strang looked exhausted. Only the driver, Corporal Binns, looked rested and alert. Schloss wondered how the man did it.

  “Herr Captain, are we ready to depart?” Schloss asked Strang.

  “Yes, Herr Reich Chancellor. The vehicles are waiting in front of the hotel under guard. I heard an airplane flying low, so I assume our transport has arrived. We should not keep it waiting.”

  “Just so,” Schloss replied. “If everyone is ready, we can leave.”

  They made their way down the steps to the lobby where the hotelier waited. Several paper sacks rested on the check-in desk.

  “Herr Reich Chancellor,” the hotel owner said in a quavering voice. “Major Strang said that you would not have time for breakfast. I have prepared sausage and egg sandwiches for you to take with you as you travel.”

  “That is very kind and most generous of you,” Schloss replied. “I apologize for not being able to pay you for the food and lodging. Once we get things settled in Frankfurt, I will see that you are paid.”

  “That is completely unnecessary, mein Herr. I am delighted to be of service.”

  “We must leave,” Strang said sharply.

  Schloss smiled and laid his hand on Strang’s arm. “Patience, Captain. This man has sacrificed to serve the Reich, and I want to make sure he knows that we properly appreciate him.”

  The hotelier looked flustered. “Don’t let me keep you, Herr Reich Chancellor. I imagine people are waiting on you.”

  Schloss smiled and nodded. “They are more important than I, and I don’t want to keep them waiting. Thank you again for your service.”

  He then turned and walked to the door. In front of the hotel was the assorted collection of vehicles they had grabbed in their frantic escape from Berlin. He and Rainer climbed in the back seat of the Opel Capitan, which had assumed the role of the executive limousine. The improvised motorcade moved out of Potsdam and drove down a side road to the small airstrip.

  A JU 52 transport sat at the end of the runway, barely visible in the dim morning light. Torches burned along the length of the grassy airfield, outlining the path the Junkers would follow for takeoff. Four soldiers guarded the airplane, and they turned as the vehicles rolled up to the plane. Captain Strang had carefully planned the flight and had selected who would travel with Schloss. The captain, however, would remain behind with the collection of troops they had acquired and place himself into service at the front.

  Schloss turned and prepared to walk to the airplane when he heard a peculiar whistling sound in the air. Rainer suddenly knocked him off his feet and shouted, “get down!”

  There came the solid bang of an explosion, and Schloss felt dirt pattering down around him.

  “What’s going on, Karl?”

  “That’s mortar fire. There’s a Russian team out there somewhere.”

  There was another whistle, followed by a gout of orange flame as the Junkers exploded.

  “We have got to get out of here,” Rainer shouted. “Binns, get the car turned around. Leave the lights off.”

  Schloss suddenly felt very tired. He didn’t want to die, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to live through this. The German soldiers were firing into the surrounding woods, although Schloss was unsure of what benefit that would be.

  Suddenly the car had backed up alongside where they lay in the dirt. Rainer raised up and grabbed the door handle. “Let’s go, Herr Schloss.”

  Schloss and Rainer tumbled into the back seat of the car. Binns crammed the gear lever into first and took off with the accelerator wide open. Strang jumped onto the running board as the car rolled past and then pulled open the door and slid into the front seat.

  “Driver, take us back the way we came,” he shouted.

  Schloss looked over at Rainer. “That did not go quite as I expected it would.”

  The engine roared as Binns kept the gas pedal to the floor. Behind them, other members of the caravan struggled to extricate themselves from the falling shells and the confusion. Schloss wondered if the pilots were in the airplane when it exploded and if others had been killed.

  Rainer leaned forward. “Corporal, if anyone tries to block the road, do whatever is necessary to drive through. If we are forced to stop, we will likely die.”

  “I understand Herr Reichsprotektor. Should I return to the hotel?”

  “No. Let’s get on the road towards Wittenberg. We will have to pick up reinforcements again along the way. We apparently have Russian infiltrators in the area.”