Himmler's War-ARC by Robert Conroy Read Free Book Online Page B

not?”
    Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General George Catlett Marshall, no longer winced at his President’s obscenities. He sometimes wondered whether FDR swore to be one of the boys, or to aggravate his senior general, or because that was just the way he talked. Marshall thought the latter. Many people had canonized the President as the perfect man, but the truth was that he was a cripple who couldn’t walk a step, and a man who drank and swore. And womanized. Jokesters in the know laughed about his womanizing and some wondered who wouldn’t stray if a cold and stern Eleanor Roosevelt was all he had to come home to?
    “Sadly, sir, we aren’t sure what his condition is,” Marshall said. “The Germans have admitted that he’s badly wounded, although they’re saying he’s recovering. They’re also saying it was nothing more than as a despicable assassination attempt and a Jewish-American conspiracy. They are again cracking down on dissidents, although I wonder how many are left after all these years. Whoever they are, I feel sorry for them.”
    “And what do you think, General?”
    “I think he’s dead.”
    Roosevelt leaned over the desk in the Oval Office and stared through his glasses at the array of brightly colored stamps, some of which were quite rare. “And why?”
    “A very ambitious Heinrich Himmler is in charge and several of those associated with Hitler have, well, disappeared from the scene and perhaps forever. I believe Himmler and Goebbels are setting the stage for an announcement of Hitler’s heroic demise, after which, Himmler will be proclaimed the new Fuhrer.”
    “And if Hitler really is dead, how will that affect the war?” Roosevelt asked.
    Marshall was surprised. “I believe that’s your call, sir.”
    “Indeed,” FDR said softly. “I am afraid there will be pressures from many quarters to work with the new German government to end the war. If nothing else, so that we can focus on destroying the little yellow bastards who bombed Pearl Harbor.”
    Marshall nodded. Many senior military men, including Admiral Ernie King and General Douglas MacArthur, felt that America’s war efforts should have been focused on the despicable Japs and not Germany. Many in Congress, particularly those from western states, also wanted America’s focus on defeating Japan. Instead, Roosevelt had insisted on adherence to pre-war plans that called for defeating Germany first while containing Japanese aggression. Allied plans also called for Germany’s unconditional surrender and, if Hitler was indeed dead, would that affect it?
    “Enough speculating over that,” Roosevelt said. “Now, what about this Phips person. A medal or what?”
    “A medal at least, but I suggest waiting until Hitler’s death is confirmed.”
    “And Ultra says nothing?”
    Marshall instinctively looked around. Ultra was the name of the super-secret British code-reading activity at Bletchley Park in England. The Germans were unaware that England had broken their most secret and sacred codes and were now sharing the information, albeit reluctantly, with their American cousins. Very few Americans were in on the secret, and most key members of Roosevelt’s staff were unaware of it. They were also unaware of what was being developed in New Mexico under the name of the Manhattan Project.
    FDR sighed. “And this Phips person is such a nebbish, a fucking clerk. Why couldn’t it have been the copilot who’d been in charge? He looks a helluva lot more heroic than Phips.”
    Marshall permitted himself a small smile. “That might work in our favor. The German supermen would be humiliated to find that Hitler’d been killed by a scrawny little nothing like Phips.”
    Roosevelt chuckled. “Perhaps it might. At any rate, do something about the plane. Mother’s Milk, my ass. That name and the caricature have got to go. The tits on that farm girl are larger than several states and are an insult to every woman voter.”
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