“You could have left me in Canada to do that. How many others in our original group have you kept on ice like this?”
“None. All the others are from this side of the Atlantic. They’ve gone back to their original jobs. You’re the only one that we actually have a line on. The others all still have a degree of independence until we call upon them. Harris thought things would have turned out differently by now, but he’s still convinced that the situation is going to go downhill quickly once this phoney war ends. He’s very stubborn. Look, Rory, I’m really sorry about this. I’ve talked to Harris repeatedly. He’s a good man, honest as the day’s long, but he’s not an easy man to deal with. For one thing, he actually thinks you’re gainfully employed. He really does. He reads everything you put out and he likes it.”
Rory chuckled. “That’s not a good sign. We aren’t producing anything anybody with an ounce of common sense hasn’t figured out already.”
“If we push him into a corner, he’s as likely to do something he knows you don’t want just to prove he’s in control. Rory, I shouldn’t say it, but he’s one of those leaders who doesn’t quite know what he wants, but he’s damned certain that whatever it is, he’s going to control it.”
“We’ve both seen a few of those in our time. Anyway, I appreciate you telling me this.”
Ewen gave an understanding smile and turned back into the circle and struck up a conversation with the couple to his left. The moment of conspiracy was over.
6
Berlin, 12 March 1940
HE LET THE PHONE ring just once. It was late at night and Major Wolfgang Erhlichmann of the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht planning staff wanted to go home. He had already drunk so much coffee that his nerves were on edge and his mouth had that metallic taste. He’d have difficulty again sleeping. Erhlichmann had been working for months on “Case Yellow,” the plan for the invasion of France via the Low Countries and across the Maginot Line. He had been assigned to this one operation for so long now that he could run through every possible move in his head, like a chess prodigy able to play several games simultaneously, blindfolded. He rubbed his bald head and took off his glasses. The voice at the other end of the phone was clipped and to the point.
Erhlichmann put the telephone down and spoke quietly to Major Carl Faber across the desk from him. “They want us to brief them again on the Manstein plan, first thing tomorrow morning. They want us to emphasize the detail of striking through Holland and Belgium, and only provide a broad brush outline for the breakthrough into France. Apparently there’s some concern with those close to the Führer as to whether or not we can do it. This time the task has been given to Colonel Brandt. He’s just finished the weekly planning conference and has to go before the Führer himself at the end of the week. The Führer has announced that he will personally decide which plan we’ll use.”
Major Faber leaned back and put his jackbooted feet up on the desk. He was a quiet individual, a tall, athletic, and perpetually youthful-looking man with a dry wit. “They can use whatever plan they want. No matter how you look at it, we’re going to steamroll through Belgium and the Netherlands.” He laughed and gestured with a grease pencil. “We have two perfectly good plans. Tell the Colonel to inform the Führer that they can choose whichever one they want and let us go home to our families. At this point, we all know how the invasion will turn out. I think the Führer’s aides are all just a bunch of bureaucrats, playing some kind of political game to see who curries the most favour with him. Whatever plan he chooses, we’re going to pulverize the Dutch and the Belgians. The real test is whether or not we can break through the French and then separately defeat the English and French armies. Because in the end, if either the Dutch or the Belgians give us any trouble, we’re just going to bomb them into submission. There’s nothing terribly sophisticated in the preliminary phase of the operation.”
Major Faber began spinning a pencil in the crook of his thumb and forefinger. Abruptly he stopped and looked up with a mischievous smile. “Don’t you find all of this kind of boring? I’ll tell you what: let’s flip things around. Tomorrow, you do the manoeuvre briefing for the Colonel, and I’ll brief the logistics plan with all the options spelled out. I can recite your parts with my eyes closed. You describe the actions of the units in contact with the enemy; I’ll go through all the supply and transport details. I don’t need notes. You’re always telling me the fighting bits are the easy part. We’ve gone over this so many times I could stand in for you without notes. It’s simple. I’ll review in broad detail all the major supply options, give them an assessment of everything: the overall daily tonnage summaries, rail, motor transport, and forage requirements, fuel, rations, ammunition, casualties, go through the unique railroad coordination measures, road requirements, harbour areas, dumping programs, rear area signals, use of civilian telephone exchanges, water points, airfields and airheads, likely points of resistance in the rear, and rear area security plans.”
He looked pleased with himself. “It’s easy. See if the old goat would even notice we were briefing each other’s parts. We both know the detail well enough to do it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Erhlichmann. “The Colonel will catch us out. Besides, he’s so keyed up now he’s going to think we’re making fun of him. Even on a good day, the man has no sense of humour.”
“Okay, better still, let’s do the whole briefing as we always do and then ask him how he thinks we should react in the event of a possible French or British counter-attack north in support of the Dutch. Everybody just presupposes that the French and British will stay put and give us the initiative. He’s so wooden, asking him to think on his feet will throw him off his stride for days.”
“You’re probably right, but he’s sly enough to know how to handle that kind of question without having to think it through.”
Major Faber crumpled a sheet of paper and threw it across the room into the wastebasket. He had a self-satisfied grin. “I know his answer already.” He changed his voice into a high-pitched rasp. “For fear of offending us, neither the French nor the British have even conducted a map exercise of a major offensive movement north into the Low Countries; and neither of them have built in sufficient logistic capacity to conduct large-scale offensive action against us even if they wanted to. They’re tied to a rigid linear defence providing a shield right around the French perimeter, while we’re thinking in terms of a series of sharp spear thrusts into their soft areas.” Dropping back to his normal voice, Faber added, “He’ll tell us it’s going to be like taking an ice pick to a balloon. And you know what? He’ll be right.”
* * *
ANNIKA’S IMPATIENCE with Professor Snijders was beginning to show. “There are a lot of things Pauli Herschel could do, perhaps not in our department, but I know he could teach a course in the law department. He’s well-qualified.”
“Annika, you don’t understand,” said Dr. Snijders. He leaned back and began removing his glasses so that he could polish them on his tie, a gesture the portly gentleman always used when he wanted to buy time. “It’s not that your friend Pauli Herschel isn’t qualified, but there have to be circumstances other than the fact he’s a refugee from Germany before we go ahead and start urging our colleagues here in the university to hire him. There are procedures we have to observe.”
Annika’s inability to conceal her displeasure was never a trait that endeared her to her superiors. Today her exasperation showed in every movement. Snijders had known her since he first hired her five years before, and he wasn’t going to allow her an opening. “Mr. Herschel isn’t the only well-qualified refugee we have, by the way, and you haven’t provided me one shred of evidence that his qualifications are as you and he say they are.”
Snijders stood up quickly and began arranging papers on his desk. “Annika, I don’t doubt that Mr. Herschel is legitimate, but we just can’t jump up and hire someone because we think they’ve had a bad time of it.”
“No,