One Thousand Years (21 page)

“
Kneifzange
,”
a crewman called out, holding his hand up in the Tiger's middle
cabin.

By
now, McHenry knew the word. He reached for the pincers before the
man's assistant could get there and handed them to the man.

The
crewman, apparently of Asian origin, nodded appreciatively. He used
the pincers to pull out the pipe.

His
handling seemed rough to McHenry, surprisingly so on such a
sophisticated system. He had yet to understand why some things must
be handled gingerly, sometimes only by machines, while other things
can be treated like the wheels on an old '27 Ford.

The
pipe slid out slowly. Finally, both ends floated loosely in the
middle cabin.

The
crewman put the tool back into the toolbox, and a ring changed color
from red to gold. All tools were accounted for. The box sealed
shut.

“Thank
you again, Herr McHenry,” the senior crewman said. He then
turned, snapping against a bulkhead when he saw Dale floating at the
Tiger hatch in her SS uniform. “
Achtung!
” he
shouted to his assistant.

She
replied in German, floating to one side as the two men quickly made
their way out through the hatch, taking the long pipe out with them.

Their
rapid change in demeanor was startling to McHenry. There were few
women in his Army, and fewer still who were officers of a rank
equivalent to Dale.

“It's
getting late for that, you know,” she said when they'd gone.

“For
what?” he asked.

“That
uniform. It will be a thousand years old when we go back home.”
She reached over for a moment and touched the metallic wings. They
looked and felt just like the originals but McHenry knew them to be
made of the Reich's advanced materials just like everything else
around him.

“Well,
nine hundred, anyway,” she continued. “Whatever your
sentiments — and I do
understand them; we all understand them — I don't think you
will want to be wearing it too long after we leave this time. You
have the rest of your life to look forward to.”

“The
crew seems to like it,” McHenry said. He reached for the
controls, adjusting the view mode as they maneuvered themselves into
seats. He wanted the unenhanced view.

“The
Luftwaffe crewmembers are military men. They can appreciate your
sense of duty even if it is to the wrong side. And, truth be told,
that's a big reason why you're here. Your presence is a very
pleasant distraction. You have to consider, this was planned as a
five-year mission — even if it is ending early. The presence
of visitors was going to...”

“Wait
a minute,” he interrupted. “It's ending early? This is
the first I've heard of it.”

“It
was announced early this morning. Are you still taking naps?”

“That
explains it. The doctor says I'll have a few more.” He looked
up at the maintenance schedule on the panel. He knew that escape was
practically impossible, but he hoped that, given sufficient time, an
opportunity would eventually come along. “When is this ship
leaving?”

“In
another month. We will be here long enough to witness the invasion.”

“Good,”
he said sarcastically. “I'll get to see how it is that the
entire population can change their minds overnight about fighting the
war.”

“Oh,
Sam,” she sighed. “How closely have you been keeping up
with events down there?”

“I
read the paper every day,” he said. “President Roosevelt
is still on vacation.”

“You're
keeping up with where he goes?” She laughed. “I suppose
you want to know his location in case you get a chance to escape.
Are you planning to land this Tiger on the White House lawn?”

“Maybe,”
he replied, returning a smile, but wishing his dreams weren't so
obvious.

“Have
you noticed the strike news?” she asked.

“Airstrikes?”
he asked, wondering if she was changing the subject.

“No.
I meant the labor strikes in America and Britain.”

“I
read that. I didn't dwell on it.” McHenry shifted
uncomfortably in the high seat. “It's unfortunate but these
things happen in a free country. It doesn't mean they won't supply
us in the end.”

“Think
about it, Sam. Your country is at war, but you should see that not
everyone feels that way. While you were fighting overseas, Americans
back home were going on strike. It's worse in England. This will be
their worst strike year since the nineteen twenties.”

“I'd
wager that practically all those workers want the Allies to win. You
know the invasion fails partly because of weather. It does not fail
because of inadequate matériel.”

“No,
it doesn't. But the people will be happy to see the war over.
That's all I'm saying. They want to get back to their lives.”

“They
still want us to win. I don't doubt that we would get supplied.”

“You
miss the point, Sam. This isn't simply a supply issue. You know
that human sentiment, morale and propaganda are key ingredients in a
war. These same things happened in Germany during the first world
war. They had a munitions strike in 1918. It didn't last long
enough to have a direct military effect on supply to the front. As a
great man observed, ‘
the moral damage was much more terrible. In
the first place, what was the army fighting for if the people at home
did not wish it to be victorious? For whom then were these enormous
sacrifices and privations being made and endured? Must the soldiers
fight for victory while the home front goes on strike against it?

“
‘In the second place,
what effect did this move have on the enemy?’
It made the English and the French more confident that the war might
end in their victory — if only they stay in the fight just a
little bit longer. ‘
Here the resistance had lost all the
character of an army fighting for a lost cause. In its place there
was now a grim determination to struggle through to victory.
’

“And most importantly,” she concluded,
“they never needed to
seek peace as long as Germans showed weakness. They never needed
to invade Germany to end that war.
The German people of 1918 simply gave up.
They wanted peace more than the Allies did. And the Allies knew it.
The Kaiser had no choice but to abdicate.”

“Were
you quoting Coughlin again?” McHenry sniped.

“No.
Most of that was Adolf Hitler.” She grinned. “My
point, Sam, is that it's understandable that people will want to stop
the war. I'm not saying that it's always good. It wasn't good for
Germany in 1918. They needed a leader to continue to rally the
people. The Kaiser was no longer capable of that.”

“Oh,” he mused.
“I'm beginning to understand now.”

She looked down at him, smiling.

“What you really don't respect about America
is that we would give up.”

Her smile disappeared. She reflected on that for a moment. He did, too.
It hit both of them hard.
To McHenry, giving up bordered on the dishonorable.
An outright defeat would be better than giving up when
the entire future of the human race is at stake.

It
was Dale who spoke again first. “Sam,” she said.
“Hitler offered far, far better terms than what the Germans
received after the first world war. They were really quite contrite.
Sometimes peace is the best option.”

“Was there really peace after the U.S. and Britain gave up?”
McHenry asked resentfully.
“Or was this peace only for us while the
rest of the world was torn apart?”

“Sometimes the people just need a rest,” she said quietly.

He took that non-answer for what it was.
“Have you considered trying this with the Grauen?”

“We still remember the Treaty of Versailles,”
she said, her confidence returning.

“Another treaty that Hitler broke.”

“That
treaty deserved to be broken,” she said firmly.

Then
her tone changed, making it obvious to him that she was quoting
again.
“‘Who therefore entertain the thought that the
Treaty of Versailles would be honored by all its participants? Does
not the vast majority of historians regard that treaty as an unjust
document? Was not its chief objective the dismemberment of the
German Empire? Did it not impose a fine of 57 billion dollars
payable in gold upon a penniless people from whose treasuries had
been removed the last ounce of gold? Did it not shackle the German
people to the pillar of oppression when it virtually forbade them to
trade with other nations? Did it not despoil Germany of all her
colonies? And in a spirit of revenge and barbarism, instead of peace
and humanity, was not the Treaty of Versailles instrumental in
removing more than a million milk cows upon which depended the little
children for their food?’

She
was reciting the words more passionately now,
“‘Certainly,
Germany signed the Treaty of Versailles — because there was no
alternative — a treaty that will go down in history as the most
inhuman aggression ever committed against any people in the entire
history of the civilized world. An aggression which was not aimed at
the Kaiser, and at those who were responsible for Germany's
participation in the World War. A treaty that was not aimed at the
international bankers who sent the Bolsheviks into Russia, but aimed
at the poor, victimized people who had remained behind when the
malefactors had fled to safety.
’

“And
that,” she asserted, “was Coughlin.”

“Okay,
okay,” he said. He had already known the treaty was bad one.
He regretted bringing it up. “I'll concede that treaty was too
heavy-handed. But that doesn't mean I like Hitler or Coughlin.”

She
smiled, thinking that this was a victory over him. But out of the
corner of his eye, he saw the maintenance schedule for the Tiger. It
would be fully operational again before the end of May.

Bamberg
came in just as Dale was leaving. She greeted him, and looked
beyond, perhaps hoping someone else was there, too.

“I'll
see you tomorrow for our regular lunch,” she said. “I
will leave you boys to your pilot talk.”

Bamberg
gave a polite greeting, and then waited until the hatch had sealed
behind her.

“I
told you,” he said. “They like to be ideological.”

*

MONTE CASSINO FALLS TO THE ALLIES
The Polish flag is flying over the ruins of the ancient Italian monastery
which has been a symbol of German resistance since the beginning of
the year.
Polish
troops entered the hill-top abbey this morning, six days after the
latest attacks began on this strategic stronghold at the western end
of the German defensive position known as the Gustav Line.
British
troops have taken control of the fortified town of Cassino at the
foot of the “Monastery Hill”.
The Allies' hard-fought
victory comes four months after their first
assault on Monastery Hill failed in January...
—
BBC news, (May 18, 1944)

Reading in his chair,
McHenry learned the news that morning feeling
momentary joy mixed with sadness.
The weeks had gone by. He had never escaped, and Parker was now dead.
The Allies were still advancing,
oblivious to the sad end that awaited them.

The good news was that Monte Cassino had been taken.
Better still, his squadron had been part of it,
earning a second Distinguished Unit Citation.
But that victory would be for nothing, he knew.
He put the tablet down.
They'd been doing so well
, he thought for the hundredth time.
The Allies' Italian campaign was moving forward.
It didn't make sense that one defeat,
even a major defeat such as the invasion would prove to be,
could turn the entire war.

It
didn't have to. What if he could somehow prevent President
Roosevelt's stroke? The Tigers have a first aid kit, he knew. More
than that, of course. The lifeboat must have one, too. The future
Nazi medicine could sustain a man indefinitely. President Roosevelt
could serve as many terms as necessary to win the war.

It
was a dream, McHenry acknowledged to himself. He allowed himself the
pleasure of the speculation. Escape was next to impossible. Landing
the escape pod in Washington without being shot down by
Göring
was just as unlikely.

Of
course, he realized, it would be better to save the Allies' invasion
of France. Roosevelt might not even have his stroke if the invasion
went well, killing two birds with one stone. A single well-timed
burst from a Tiger's energy weapon could do that. The troops would
then wade ashore unopposed. Or, better still, destroy Hitler's
headquarters in Berlin. One Tiger could well destroy the entire
city....

But
it was a dream. The
Kommandant
would surely risk detection by
the Grauen, and even risk tampering with history itself if McHenry's
crusade was going to shatter that history anyway. Clearly, subtlety
was required. Subtlety in the extreme.

“Rechner,”
he called out, thinking of an idea. “Where is Vice President
Wallace right now?” He picked up his tablet and saw a map
appear with a text description in English. As expected, Wallace was
in Washington. More interesting still, he was preparing for an
official trip to Russia and China via Alaska. McHenry was intrigued
by that. Much of his trip, maybe all of it, would be out of
Göring's
line of sight. If he could get that far, they would not be able to
track him immediately. They would need to send Tigers to check their
satellites. And one of those Tigers is still out of commission.
McHenry smiled. One impossible problem down. Just two impossible
problems left to go: Getting out of the ship, and getting away
without being blown out of space.

The
smile faded a bit. It was still a nice dream, but unlikely. He'd
best get back to work.