Von Stenger kept such thoughts to himself, however. And like any good German, he would fight until the bitter end.
If the SS didn't shoot him first.
After driving through the woods for an hour, the car slowed. The general beside him tensed. Friel slept on. The line of cars passed through an enormous iron gate that swung on stone pillars. Could it be? With a quickening of his heart, Von Stenger realized that they must have reached Hitler's fabled secret headquarters. Alderhorst. Like many secrets surrounding Der Führer, Von Stenger had assumed such a place was only a rumor.
Beside him, Friel woke up and peered out the window. "Ah, Alderhorst," he said. "We made good time."
"You have been here before?"
"Haven't you?"
"The Reichspost must have fallen down on the job. Either that, or Der Führer skimped on the postage."
The SS officer smiled and lowered his voice. "Kurt, I appreciate your sense of humor and the fact that you are a man who thinks for himself. But in this place… my friend, it may be wise to choose your words carefully. Or better yet, keep your mouth shut."
Feeling chastised, Von Stenger nodded. Friel was right, of course. The German High Command was not known for its appreciation of witty banter. They were a literal bunch. If you criticized the postal service, then it implied you were criticizing the entire Nazi regime.
"What on earth are we doing here, Aldric?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, Kurt. We are about to find out."
The cars emptied out in the courtyard, spilling their contents of high-ranking officers. Von Stenger was shocked to spot SS General Sepp Dietrich and Wehrmacht General Hasso von Manteuffel in the crowd. He himself was a mere hauptmann. Who had invited him along?
"But I don't understand. What am I doing here? Everyone in those other cars is a general or at least a colonel. I'm just a sniper!"
Friel grinned again. "No, you are not just a sniper. You are the best sniper in the Reich! You are here because I requested you, of course."
Von Stenger stared. "So you know what all this is about?"
"Not exactly, but I knew it wasn't to be shot, ha, ha!" Friel lowered his voice. "Did you see old Rothenbach in the car coming up with us? He thought his number was up."
With the exception of Friel, most of the other officers did not seem to know whether to be relieved or in despair at having arrived at the Führer's headquarters.
They filed through the thick oak doors into a massive assembly hall. Guards armed with submachine guns loomed everywhere. Some held Rottweilers on chain leashes. These sights did nothing to put anyone at ease. No coffee or food was served.
In the old days, the grand hall was where barons and knights would have feasted on roast boar in front of a roaring fire. But tonight there was no heat except for whatever came from the electric bulbs overhead. Those were a 20th century addition, of course. At the front of the room hung a large map, flanked by two flags. Von Stenger recognized the map as depicting the Ardennes — but that made no sense. The terrain was so rugged that there was hardly any fighting there, or any real need to defend it. Only a handful of troops faced each other, more as a symbolic presence than for any strategic purpose. Nobody was coming through the Ardennes Forest in great numbers.
An officer stood at the front of the room and called the officers to attention. The generals and colonels got to their feet and sucked in their bellies.
Then Reichsführer Adolf Hitler entered the great hall. He appeared stooped, as if worn down or exhausted. Von Stenger was shocked. The man he had seen many times early in the war had appeared to have boundless energy. Yet even now, Von Stenger could sense something coiled within the Führer, reserves of power, much like a cornered bear or bull waits for the right moment. There was no weakness.
All around him, the officers seemed to be holding their breath.
The change in the Führer’s appearance was surprising. Von Stenger had seen him in person many times during the early days after he came to power. He was such a charismatic man then, so full of energy. Germany, lost and belittled after the defeat in the Great War, had been eager to follow a man of such vision. The years of war, however, showed clearly in the lines etched across Hitler's face and in his stooped shoulders, as if he carried a great weight that no one else could see.
As the officers took their seats again and waited in tense silence, Hitler revealed his plan quietly and slowly at first. It was something he called Operation Watch on the Rhine.
"My generals, the time has come for us to change the tide of war," he said matter of factly. "We must crush the Allied forces and drive them back into the sea."
In many ways the plan that Hitler laid out was Germany's version of D-Day — only this massive invasion would take place through the Ardennes Forest and across the Meuse River, which was the natural boundary between the rugged Ardennes region and the more open country of Belgium — and France beyond.
Hitler explained that the operation had been planned in utmost secrecy. Most of the generals in the room had no idea that all through the late summer and fall, panzer corps had been massing along the German border for the push into Belgium. Great caches of ammunition and petrol were dispersed in the Ardennes to resupply German forces. What remained of the Luftwaffe had been gathered at secret air fields in order to support the attack.
Von Stenger wondered where so many men and so many tanks had come from. The forces along the Eastern Front, the final defenses against the Red Tide, must be nothing but straw men and cardboard tanks. No, Hitler was making one last great gamble here. It was clear that it was win or lose — if the attack failed, there would be no way to replace what had been lost.
Hitler's voice built to an excited crescendo. He became animated as he had in the old days, exhorting the troops to victory at Nuremberg. Now his hand chopped at the air. Spittle flew from his lips. "Nothing short of victory! There is no turning back!"
Abruptly, the Führer ended his speech. He stood there before them, no longer a stooped old man but their charismatic leader once more. For the moment, he had cast his familiar spell on the officer corps.
"Heil Hitler!" echoed through the room as men sprang to their feet. He had given them a plan. He had given them hope.
Von Stenger glanced over at Friel's face. It glowed in admiration.
CHAPTER 4
The tanks rolled before dawn. When it came, the morning was a poor excuse for daylight, being dull and gray. Snow fell and wind blew. But that had been part of the timing of Hitler's surprise attack — the bad weather would keep the Allies' planes grounded.
Even Von Stenger had to admit the plan was almost crazy enough to succeed. As Goethe had said, "Daring ideas are like chessmen moved forward. They may be beaten, but they may start a winning game."
Swirling with the gray dawn mist were thick diesel fumes and, almost improbably, the smell of coffee and frying sausages. Von Stenger’s belly growled hungrily. He lit a cigarette. One had to shout to be heard over the sound of clanking tank treads and churning engines. It was as if some great, rumbling beast had awakened and was now on the prowl through the Ardennes.
Kampfgruppe Friel was comprised of more than twelve hundred SS troops — not baby-faced recruits, but mostly battle-hardened veterans. The battle group was equipped with six hundred Tiger II tanks, mobile anti-aircraft guns called Wirbelwind, and scores of combat vehicles. It was more than a formidable fighting force. It was a conquering army.