A handful of prisoners were taken and they wore the skull and crossbones insignia on their caps. Jack had heard that these the special units assigned to run concentration camps and were especially cruel. He found it satisfying that most of them looked frightened. Some of their Nazi prisoners were women guards, exceedingly hard looking and ugly women, but females nonetheless.
“Come here, Captain,” yelled a sergeant as he exited a barracks building. He turned and threw up against the barracks wall.
Jack entered the barracks and walked into a hell dimly lit by light coming through holes in the walls. Scores of eyes stared at him from stark benches. They were shapeless and in rags and it took him a few moments to realize they were women. An emaciated hand reached out for him and touched his uniform. Without thinking, he recoiled and the woman cringed as if expecting to be beaten.
“Who are you?” came a voice, timid and weak.
“American,” he said softly.
There was silence, then gasps and sobs. “You’ve come?”
“Yes.” He didn’t know what else to say.
There must have been a hundred women jammed into the small building. Some of them stirred and got up. They lurched hesitantly to the door. Jack let them pass and go out into the fresh air. It was too cold for their rags to be much use against the weather, but being able to step outside seemed worth it to them.
Several women remained on the benches. Jack checked them. A couple of them were dead and the others might be dying. More soldiers had entered the barracks and were looking around. He found a radio man who put him in contact with Stoddard.
“How is it, son?”
“Worse than you can begin to imagine, sir. We need medics, food, blankets, and, oh yeah, if you’ve got a correspondent or two hanging around send them here to take some pictures.”
At that point, Jack went out and looked at the liberated women who were staring at the open gate and the empty watchtowers. Some of the GI’s had found blankets and given them to the women to cover their nakedness and help warm them.
Sergeant Major Rolfe emerged from the headquarters building. “All gone, Captain, but you’re not going to believe this.”
“Try me.”
“We’re the 74th Armored, right. Well, this is work camp number seventy-four. Quite a coincidence, huh, sir?”
“Yeah,” Jack admitted. “But it does make me wonder how the hell many of these snake pits there are.”
CHAPTER 15
FDR was livid. The photographs on his desk were damning beyond belief. One showed emaciated dead bodies stacked like cordwood, while another displayed the decomposing bodies of inmates hung on barbed wire, shot while trying to escape. Others were equally horrible. He glanced at them all, overwhelmed by the agony and inhumanity they showed.
As the camps near the French border were overrun, the depth of the accumulated horror was becoming apparent, and no one had yet gotten near the most terrible places of all, a series of camps near the city of Auschwitz.
“First, I want these pictures released to the troops and the American public. We must show them what we’re fighting for and what’ll happen if we lose. Above all, show these to our so-called allies, Great Britain and France. They most definitely need their spines stiffened.”
Churchill had lost a vote in Parliament, which would almost certainly require a new election. Winston might be a hero to much of the British public, but he was not well loved even by his own party. The English people were exhausted by the long and bloody war and wanted it to end. They had been fighting since 1939 and had endured bombings and catastrophic battles. As long as victory was achievable, they were on board, but the increasing German resistance was demoralizing them. It reminded so many of the stalemate of World War I. All that was needed to cause England’s collapse was the sight of trench lines snaking along the Rhine.
A growing number of people in England were clamoring for a negotiated peace, and the same clamoring was beginning to be heard from America’s citizens. So what if a Nazi stayed in power was the increasingly strident cry? Hitler was the monster responsible for the war, and Hitler was dead. Wouldn’t his successors be more reasonable? After all, wasn’t the little dictator insane? They couldn’t all be crazy, could they?
Yet how could he negotiate with the authors of these atrocities? But so many wanted him to, and they included congressional members of his own party. Supreme Court Justice Felix Frankfurter and Treasury Secretary Rosenthal as well as a number of Jewish-Americans had screamed their anguish at what was happening to their fellow Jews. Frankfurter, a man who at first disbelieved the atrocities, now wondered if many of his faith remained alive in Europe. It was a good question.
FDR and Churchill had had a number of disagreements and Churchill was fighting the fact that Great Britain was now a bit player in the global conflict. Still, Churchill was a cut above whoever would replace him, in particular the colorless and, in FDR’s opinion spineless, socialist, Clement Atlee.
Ultra intercepts said that the Nazis were slowing or stopping the shipment of Jews to death camps, but would that truly save the remaining Jews and other concentration and death camp inmates? Or did it make sense to negotiate an end to the war that included getting the Jews and others out of the clutches of the likes of Himmler. FDR rubbed his forehead. He had a miserable headache. He had won his fourth term, and, God willing, another four years in office. But at what price? Christ, his head hurt and it felt like his heart was racing to get out of his chest. He needed a rest, but had no idea when he would get one.
Heinrich Himmler mentally worked on his list of people to be eliminated once he consolidated power and a working peace had been achieved. It was a pleasant diversion. Once he’d seen a Shakespeare play in which characters dressed as Romans decided who would live and who would die. He appreciated it now that he was in a position to do something.
Von Rundstedt headed the list. The arrogant field marshal was choice number one. He and a number of others in the military hierarchy were proclaiming themselves saviors of Germany for their efforts in slowing down the Americans and knocking Russia out of the war. For all intents and purposes, England was also no longer a factor, while France was on the verge of tearing herself in two.
Ribbentrop would go as well, although Himmler thought the fool might be allowed to retire. The same held with the aging von Papen. The navy’s Admiral Doenitz seemed loyal, but the Kriegsmarine had always followed an independent line. His case would be reviewed. Admiral Canaris, head of the Abwehr and the font of all military intelligence, was also considered a candidate for purging. As yet unverifiable rumors had him supporting those who would have murdered Hitler. The Gestapo was working hard to confirm those rumors. While Himmler now firmly believed the bombing that killed the Fuhrer was a tragic coincidence, he did wonder just when the plotters would have made their move. Canaris would be carefully watched.
And what to do about Rommel? The former golden boy from North Africa was still recovering from his wounds. Rommel had served as commander of Hitler’s bodyguard and had appeared to worship him. However, there were rumors that his devotion had soured as defeats mounted. Rommel was a popular war hero and would not be touched as long as he behaved himself. Himmler thought it was strange that Rundstedt hadn’t actually said that he would give a command to Rommel once he was better. Perhaps their personal animosity could be put to good use.
Josepf Goebbels still served a purpose. The club-footed propaganda minister had once been very ambitious, perhaps even coveting ultimate leadership as Hitler’s heir, but the Fuhrer’s unexpected death had taken the wind out of his sails. Maybe he would make Goebbels an ambassador to an irrelevant country.