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“—and,” von Heurten-Mitnitz went on, “if we are to believe Reichsmarschall Göring, as of course we all do, the Luftwaffe downed twenty-nine of the attacking force of two hundred bombers.”
"Call me ’Meyer,’” Müller said.
In the early days of the war, Göring had assured the German people that if Allied aircraft ever bombed German soil, they were free to call him "Meyer,” a Jewish name and thus a pejorative.
“I was asked to comment,” von Heurten-Mitnitz went on,“on an Abwehr report from an agent in New Jersey, which estimated the Americans were flying upward of fifty aircraft to England every day.”
“New Jersey?” Müller asked.
“A state. Right next to New York City,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “In other words, roughly speaking, the Americans are sending to England approximately twice as many aircraft as the Luftwaffe can shoot down.”
“What did you say about the Abwehr report?” Müller asked.
“It’s rather delicate,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “If I tell the truth, that makes me sound very wise in some quarters. And like a defeatist in others.”
“I asked what you said,” Müller said.
“I said that I would tend to believe the aircraft figures,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “But I added that the Americans could be expected to make a desperate effort to replace the terrific losses inflicted upon them by the Luftwaffe, and that clearly such effort would be at the expense of other war production.”
Müller grunted and shook his head.
“I think the next time the Americans bomb Dortmund,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said,“there will be five hundred B-17s. And I think the next time we hear from our agent in New Jersey, he will estimate that a hundred B-17s are leaving every day for England.”
"Shit,” Müller said.
“What we are doing, Johann,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said,“is trying to end this unwinnable war before the Americans run out of cities to bomb into rubble.”
"They still call it treason,” Müller said.
“Can you get a radio that will receive the BBC to Fräulein Dyer?” von Heurten-Mitnitz asked.
“You said, or at least suggested, that you think it would be a good idea if it appeared that I was somehow involved with the Dyer woman,” Müller said.
“Yes, I did,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
“I just might go see my family again this weekend,” Müller said.
“It should be a pleasant drive, in your new car,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
Chapter TWO
Supreme Headquarters Allied
Expeditionary Force
Grosvenor Square, London
1145 Hours 12 January 1943
“That went well I think, Korman,” Rear Admiral G. G. Foster said to Commander Korman after the award ceremony. “Even Meachum Hope of Carlson Broadcasting.”
“Thank you, sir,” Korman said. He did not think it necessary to inform the admiral that he had learned that Bitter was the nephew of the man who owned Carlson Broadcasting. He rather doubted that Meachum Hope would have otherwise come to SHAEF to watch one more officer get one more medal. But that had mushroomed. When Carlson News Service had been ordered to the presentation by the London bureau chief, and word got around that Meachum Hope was making a recording for his nightly broadcast to the States, the other news services and radio broadcasters decided they might be missing something and showed up themselves.
And they were happy, for Eisenhower himself made the award, gave a little speech, and, with his arm around Lieutenant Commander Edwin H. Bitter, USN, smiled his famous smile. Ike was always good copy.
The admiral stepped away from Commander Korman and had a brief private word with General Eisenhower, then he came back to Korman.
“Arrange for Commander Bitter to be at my quarters around 1730,” he ordered. “General Eisenhower said he might be able to drop by for a minute. Ask Mr. Meachum Hope and that woman reporter— What’s her name?”
