“Ahh, Willem,” Schloss waggled a finger, “no need to go into that. You are here and have made my day.”

  “The Military bulletin has not arrived as yet,” the secretary stated. “I will bring in the morning’s work presently.”

  “If this isn’t the morning’s work, what have I been attacking here on my desk?”

  “That is the remainder from yesterday that you weren’t able to complete.”

  Schloss glared up at Kirche. “I just changed my mind. You are a threat to the German state!”

  “Of course, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  With that, Kirche turned and glided out of the room. Schloss glared at him for a moment and then turned to the credenza where the coffee waited. He began thinking about Rommel’s offensive in Silesia. The risks were enormous because Germany had committed everything to the battle, and if they suffered a reverse like Model’s, the war would undoubtedly be lost.

  The floor quivered, and he looked up to see Frau Marsden trundle into the room.

  “You are out early today, Frau Marsden,” he said.

  “As are you, Herr Schloss.”

  “I feel like we are risking everything with this throw of the dice,” he said. “I couldn’t sleep, so here I am.”

  “And you should know by now not to take counsel in your fears.”

  “I would prefer to call it realism, Frau Marsden. If we fail in this operation, there will not be enough left to stop the Russians from marching through the country.”

  “Do you have confidence in your generals?” she asked.

  “I do. But I also had confidence in Walter Model, and look where it got him.”

  “Were you not careful to avoid blaming him for that incident?”

  “Well, yes. We made the collective decision to go ahead with that operation, and it’s as much my fault as anyone’s.”

  “And what are your feelings about blame?” she asked.

  “Blame is an ugly thing. It paints someone into a corner for taking the initiative on something everyone else was avoiding. No, I assess responsibility.”

  “Is that just another word for blame?”

  “No, it is not. If a soldier fails due to negligence; or as a result of someone’s negligence, his superior officer takes responsibility. That officer then investigates and assigns blame, and he also takes responsibility for the event.”

  “Do you expect to be blamed if the operation fails?” the old woman asked.

  “Of course. Although it may not be from something I did, but the military is my responsibility, as are the things it does. That is the nature of things.”

  “One cannot argue against the nature of things, but you must be careful not to let that drive you. Germany demands leadership, and that is what you have been able to provide, despite your struggles.”

  “I just get so tired at times, Frau Marsden. I don’t know if this verdammt war will ever end.”

  “It will end, and you will be victorious.”

  “I wish I had your confidence,” Schloss said.

  “Have I not been correct all along?”

  “Have you? What about Renate? Did you know she would die? What about Misty Simpson’s experience in Kabul?

  “I cannot predict every aspect of the future, Herr Schloss. No one can.”

  “But you told me Germany would prevail in this war.”

  “And so she shall.”

  He rose from his desk and turned to face her.

  “You have just contradicted yourself,” he said, his voice rising.

  “No, you are deliberately misunderstanding me.”

  She stepped close to him. For some reason, it always seemed that she was a head taller than he, but he knew she was shorter.

  “Listen well, Herr Schloss. I cannot track all the events in this world, and I cannot view all of the details of your life. And I am not permitted to change the course of history on a whim. In truth, history itself has its own momentum that resists change.”

  “But Hitler died in this universe.”

  “So, he did. That is part of the history of this world. And the history shows the Heinrich Schloss overcame terrible odds and saved the nation and brought a measure of peace to Europe.”

  “Peace? Such as the Russians bring?”

  She began poking him in the chest. “Once again, you are deliberately being obtuse. Have I not told you that Germany would prevail in this war?”

  “But we haven’t won.”

  He heard his own voice and noted the whine. What was wrong with him?

  “I did not promise it would be easy,” she said softly. “But, you will prevail.”

  “But the cost is so high.”

  “And Germany needs to pay the price for its casual treatment of the less fortunate and for its abandonment of a fixed morality.”

  “I cannot do anything about morality,” he complained.

  “You can set the example.”

  Schloss stepped back and collapsed into the chair. “It just gets to me sometimes, Frau Marsden.”

  “That is why I came to see you this morning. I believe you need to rest for a day or so.”

  “ You think I am coming unglued again? What is it with you, anyway?”

  Kirche walked into the room and halted when he saw Frau Marsden.

  “I’m sorry. I did not see you come in.”

  “Herr Schloss needs to rest for today and tomorrow. Can you call his car around?”

  “Of course, Frau Marsden.”

  Ten minutes later, Peter Schreiber accepted a call from Willem Kirche.

  “What news, Willem?”

  “Frau Marsden decided the Reich Chancellor needed two days of rest. I thought I should let you know.”

  “Very well,” Peter replied. “I will notify everyone who needs to know.”

  “Thank you, Herr Foreign Minister.”

  “Hey, call me Peter. It seems we are all members of one big happy family.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  June 21, 1944; 9:00 AM

  OKW Field Headquarters

  Zeppelin Bunker

  Wünsdorf, Germany

  Although the OKW had regained their building in Berlin after the Russian rout, communications remained patchy. Therefore, much of the military leadership gravitated to the central communications nexus that the army maintained in Wünsdorf. Kilometers of antenna wire were strung around the town, and the Wehrmacht buildings contained some powerful transmitters.

  Occasionally the radio operators could not deliver crucial messages because of bad atmospherics or equipment failure. Otherwise, the operation maintained a web of communications across the Reich. And, when necessary, around the world.

  Heinz Guderian and Gerd von Rundstedt leaned over a table and studied the photos shot by one of the high-altitude Ju-88 airplanes. Guderian suddenly grunted and pointed to a section of the collage.

  “See that, Herr General?”

  Von Rundstedt leaned in further. “I was just going to call that to your attention. We have a major problem here.”

  “Well, at least we now know where Chuikov took his army. He is right on top of Rommel.”

  Von Rundstedt straightened up and placed his hands on his hips. “The question of the day, Heinz, is whether we should call this a threat or an opportunity.”

  “Chuikov appears to be maneuvering to cut in behind Rommel and close the salient,” Guderian said as he studied the map. “What do you suppose would happen if Rommel swung around to the west and cut Chuikov’s supply lines?”

  “That would make for an interesting scenario – both armies cut off from supplies and battling each other. Who do you think would run out of supplies first?”

  “Oh, I think we would have the advantage there,” Guderian responded. “But it would also put us into a direct slugging match with the Russians. That is someone we have avoided to this point.”

  “But our forces are close to parity with the Russians, based upon what we are seeing here, Heinz.”

  “True. Do you think we can destroy the Russian force with what we have?”

  “I don’t doubt it. But we would get hurt in the process. But this might well be the time to do it.”

  “There is no time to consult with the Reich Chancellor,” Guderian stated.

  “I will take the responsibility,” von Rundstedt said. “Send orders to Rommel telling him to guard his left flank and then swing around and slam the back door on Chuikov. He will know what to do.”

  “I will do so. Would you like me to draft the message to Herr Schloss?”

  “Please create the draft, and I will review it.”

  “Jawohl, Herr General,” Guderian saluted.

  § § §

  June 21, 1944; 9:30 AM

  Silesia

  Rommel stared at the message form and tried to ignore the hollow pit in his stomach. He wondered if this was how Walter Model felt when the Russians cut off his salient at Lublin; because he was terrified that the same thing would happen to him. Yet, Guderian and Von Rundstedt weren’t panicking, so Rommel needed to keep his wits about him.

  He pointed to his adjutant. “Get a message off to Schörner. Tell him he must hold the salient open at all costs.”

  “At once, Herr General.” And Colonel Lehmann trotted off to send the radio message.

  With the message in hand, Rommel walked over to the map table. Guderian’s communique was wonderfully imprecise, and it would be hours before a courier arrived with the details. But Guderian had sent the message intending that Rommel act immediately. And he needed to. But, Rommel had acted on a paucity of information in the Libyan desert and had been successful.

  The question before him was what Chuikov intended to do. Odds were, the Russians would try to cut them off from their supply train and eventually roll them up as they did to Model. Guderian’s orders were to do the same thing to the Russians. Rommel liked the idea but was concerned about the risks. For the first time in the war, the Russians would come to grips with the Wehrmacht. Rommel instinctively decided that this was the time and place for the confrontation.

  The Germans were well trained, well-rested, and up-to-date on the maintenance cycles. Most of the armor was fresh from the factory. The Russian troops were relatively fresh, but they were probably not well equipped. And because of the constant interdiction of their supply train, there was probably not enough food, ammunition, and fuel.

  As he thought about these things, Colonel Lehmann returned.

  “I sent the message and got an acknowledgment.”

  “Very well, here is what we are going to do. I want the tip of the spear to bend around and drive towards the Neisse River. We must quickly move before Chuikov realizes what we are doing. I expect Chuikov to attack both flanks. He will be desperate to get out of the sack he is in. And the Russian forces along the Oder will likely try to break the wall.”

  “I understand, Herr General. Do we need to draft a new plan?”

  “There is no time, Colonel. Let’s get the orders out and get things moving. Then we need to sit down and figure out how to slay the beast now that we have caught him.”

  “At once, Herr General.”

  Rommel leaned over the map table once again and concentrated on the situation. He thought Chuikov did not know what he was facing. He would likely continue driving towards Liegnitz, expecting to cut off Schörner or smash his four divisions. Rommel’s intention was not to try to destroy Chuikov’s army as with a hammer but rather to surgically slice through into his rear and remove his ability to fight. If he could encourage the Russian General to surrender, it would be a much less expensive operation.

  § § §

  June 22, 1944; 11:30 AM

  Reich Chancellor’s Office

  Nazi Party Headquarters

  Frankfurt, Germany

  Heinrich Schloss tried to calm the furious churning of his stomach. His first reaction to the news from the front was a desire to call the members of the government together and discuss the situation. But, Von Rundstedt and Guderian were in the East supervising the operation and would not be in attendance. And they had already made the decision. In fact, they had made the decision yesterday.

  He had to trust the generals. They had proven they knew what they were doing. And he had expressed his trust in them. Now was not the time to distract them. He just hoped they had made the correct decision.

  And Schloss felt rested. He had gone home after his confrontation with the old woman and gone to bed.

  He was reluctant to admit that Frau Marsden was correct. But he had been on the edge of exhaustion and knew from prior experience that it affected his judgment. He had slept for an entire day and night. That seemed to have put him back together. The nation could not afford to have him out of commission for a week.

  Kirche eased into the office. “The Reichsprotektor asked if he might have a few moments of your time.”

  “He’s here?”

  “Yes, Herr Reich Chancellor.”

  “Have him come in, please.”

  Karl Rainer looked somber when he walked into Schloss's office.

  “Are Guderian and the Reichsmarshall getting ready to lose it all for us, Herr Schloss?”

  “That’s quite the way to start a meeting, Karl.”

  “I just assumed you were concerned about this.”

  Schloss chuckled sourly. “I’ve been stewing since I got Von Rundstedt’s message.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Me, Karl? I am going to support the Wehrmacht. Guderian and von Rundstedt agree on this step, so that means they are confident of success. Do you really think we could do better?”

  “I don’t know, but this seems precisely like what we were doing when Model got caught.”

  “Don’t you suppose they thought about that?” Schloss asked.

  Rainer stalked over and plopped down in the chair across from Schloss. “Okay, but you are concerned about this.”

  “I am. It is a risky operation. But it also allows us to shorten the war dramatically. I think what we are doing is to allow the Russians to come to grips with us. And they will be in for a big surprise when they discover they are grappling with far more than Schörner’s four divisions.”

  “I am just amazed at your equanimity,” Rainer said. “I was biting my nails all the way over here.”

  “I had another argument with Frau Marsden. She told me to quit being an idiot.”

  “I would love to pull her in for questioning.”

  “And we’ve had this conversation before, Karl. No, I will pay the price for my fretting. But it doesn’t change the fact that we assigned management of the war to the OKW. Guderian hasn’t made many mistakes, and he learns from those.”

  “There are mistakes, and then there is betting the whole county, Herr Schloss.”

  “Let’s be honest, Karl. We have been betting the whole country since we formed this government. In many ways, it has gone exceptionally well. Considering our foe, I think we have also done well in the war. We just need to get it ended.”

  “If Rommel can do what he set out to do, this should help get things headed in that direction.”

  “And I need to put on a happy face when I go home tonight, or Frau Marsden will have something to say about it.”

  Rainer smiled. “I’m glad I don’t have to face that problem.”

  “I’ll be glad when we can move back to Berlin, and she will go back to Peter’s house.”

  “Will Peter thank you?” Rainer asked.

  “He gets along with the old lady better than I do. He told me that it was because he was philosophical about things.”

  That caused Rainer to crack a smile. “Misty thinks Frau Marsden is wonderful. I have learned that there are differences of opinion in a marriage.”

  Schloss laughed. “Isn’t that the truth? Gisela and I do not share the same opinion of Frau Marsden.”

  The two men sat silently in the office for several moments before Rainer spoke again.

  “Have you given thought to when you want to move the seat of government back to Berlin?”

  “I think the outcome of the current battle will determine that. I assume you have noticed that a lot of the lower-level bureaucrats have returned. The Reich Chancellery offices have been cleaned, as well as my apartments. So, I suppose we could go anytime. But, if it’s all the same to you, Karl, I would prefer not to have to leave under similar circumstances as before.”

  “If something like that happened again, I would enlist Frau Marsden to help me physically tie you up and carry you from Berlin.”

  “I think you would, too,” Schloss murmured.

  “Count on it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  June 23, 1944; 8 PM

  The Queen’s Private Dining Room

  Buckingham Palace

  London, England, UK

  Colin Marty had not been in this part of the palace before. He was familiar, of course, with the offices where the Queen’s governmental staff worked. He was also familiar with the public areas where the tourists visited. Being invited to dinner en famille was a new experience. When she had said, “Dine with me please, Colin,” he would have been churlish to refuse even if he had wanted to.

  After having worked with Margaret Windsor for the better part of a year, Colin admired her deeply. She had a sense of duty and honor that was almost immeasurable in its width and depth. Her level of maturity in dealing with members of the government belied her comparative youth – being merely twenty-one. And she was fun. She was adroit at keeping him from wandering through the dark dungeons of his mind during the day. She seemed to sense when the moods swept over him.

  Marty was not so modest as to argue with those who said he was good for the Queen. He knew he did well at managing her workload, and he also was subtly capable of adjusting her black moods so that she wouldn’t lash out at her ministers in frustration.

  “What are you thinking, Colin?” he heard her ask.

  “I was woolgathering, I am afraid,” he responded. “It’s quite an honor to dine privately with you, Ma’am.”