the record, you do know what the OSS is, don’t you?”
“Yes sir. OSS stands for Office of Strategic Services and it involves all kinds of spying and espionage activities. For the record, I wouldn’t mind doing something more useful like that than taking up space in a cheap Swiss hotel.”
Dulles took out his pipe, stuffed some tobacco, and lit it. He drew deeply and a blue cloud of smoke rose to the ceiling. “You were a fighter pilot. How many Germans did you shoot down?”
“Eight.”
“You were a fighter pilot and all fighter pilots are congenital liars. That means you actually shot down four. Is that correct?”
Ernie shrugged and grinned. “Guilty. One more and I would have been an ace, but I guess that’s never going to happen, is it?”
“Not in this war. Tell me, do you speak German or any other language and do you have any skills that might be useful in my line of work?”
“No sir.” Aw shit, he thought. Was he going to turn me down?
“What about Morse code? Do you know judo or karate?”
“I used to be good with Morse when I was in the Boy Scouts, but I know nothing about Judo and I don’t even know what karate is.”
Dulles’ next comment allayed his fears. “No matter. So many of my agents started out as willing amateurs and you are already way ahead of them. You’ve been in combat and you’ve faced down death. But you have always killed at a distance. Could you kill someone who was staring at you and was only a few feet away? If you had to, could you kill with a knife? Could you strangle a man? Could you kill a woman if you had to?”
“I don’t know but I think so.”
“Good. If you had told me you were certain you could, I would have thought you were a fool as well as a liar.”
“I hope I am not a fool, sir.”
Dulles ignored the comment. “What you will now do is go back to that hotel and gather up all your belongings and return here. You will be living and training in the embassy until something appropriate comes along. We will issue you diplomatic credentials which give you a great deal of legal immunity and you will not abuse them.”
“Understood, but won’t the Swiss notice that I’ve gone from the hotel?”
“Probably not, Captain. I hate to tell you this, but you are simply not that important. And if anyone does notice, a few discreet comments will satisfy them.”
Dulles stood and held out his hand. “Captain Janek, welcome to the OSS.”
* * *
The P51 Mustang was arguably the finest propeller-driven fighter plane in the world. It was powerful, durable and, with drop tanks, had enormous range, which enabled it to fly as an escort to bombers as they attacked far into Germany. With the right pilot at the controls, it could hold its own against Germany’s best and that included their vaunted jet, the ME262. The German jet was vulnerable during take-off and landing and required a long runway. Thus, American pilots learned to tail the jets back to their bases and, if they could not actually kill them while landing, damage the runways so they could not be used until repaired. Not only was the P51 a great plane, but there were thousands of them, something that could not be said about the German jets, which maybe numbered in the hundreds. Overall also, American pilots were much better trained then their German counterparts, who were poorly trained because of chronic fuel shortages and a lack of safe places for training.
Lieutenants George Schafer and Bud Sibre were bored. They hadn’t seen a German plane in days. This afternoon they flew their birds over southern Germany and were looking for prey on the ground. While George searched the roads below, Bud scanned the skies for Germans. They were not having any luck. The skies were empty and so too were the roads. The only traffic was clearly civilian and they’d been told to not attack civilians, even if they were Germans and doubtless Nazis.
“We know there are Krauts down there, so where are they?” said
“Yes sir. OSS stands for Office of Strategic Services and it involves all kinds of spying and espionage activities. For the record, I wouldn’t mind doing something more useful like that than taking up space in a cheap Swiss hotel.”
Dulles took out his pipe, stuffed some tobacco, and lit it. He drew deeply and a blue cloud of smoke rose to the ceiling. “You were a fighter pilot. How many Germans did you shoot down?”
“Eight.”
“You were a fighter pilot and all fighter pilots are congenital liars. That means you actually shot down four. Is that correct?”
Ernie shrugged and grinned. “Guilty. One more and I would have been an ace, but I guess that’s never going to happen, is it?”
“Not in this war. Tell me, do you speak German or any other language and do you have any skills that might be useful in my line of work?”
“No sir.” Aw shit, he thought. Was he going to turn me down?
“What about Morse code? Do you know judo or karate?”
“I used to be good with Morse when I was in the Boy Scouts, but I know nothing about Judo and I don’t even know what karate is.”
Dulles’ next comment allayed his fears. “No matter. So many of my agents started out as willing amateurs and you are already way ahead of them. You’ve been in combat and you’ve faced down death. But you have always killed at a distance. Could you kill someone who was staring at you and was only a few feet away? If you had to, could you kill with a knife? Could you strangle a man? Could you kill a woman if you had to?”
“I don’t know but I think so.”
“Good. If you had told me you were certain you could, I would have thought you were a fool as well as a liar.”
“I hope I am not a fool, sir.”
Dulles ignored the comment. “What you will now do is go back to that hotel and gather up all your belongings and return here. You will be living and training in the embassy until something appropriate comes along. We will issue you diplomatic credentials which give you a great deal of legal immunity and you will not abuse them.”
“Understood, but won’t the Swiss notice that I’ve gone from the hotel?”
“Probably not, Captain. I hate to tell you this, but you are simply not that important. And if anyone does notice, a few discreet comments will satisfy them.”
Dulles stood and held out his hand. “Captain Janek, welcome to the OSS.”
* * *
The P51 Mustang was arguably the finest propeller-driven fighter plane in the world. It was powerful, durable and, with drop tanks, had enormous range, which enabled it to fly as an escort to bombers as they attacked far into Germany. With the right pilot at the controls, it could hold its own against Germany’s best and that included their vaunted jet, the ME262. The German jet was vulnerable during take-off and landing and required a long runway. Thus, American pilots learned to tail the jets back to their bases and, if they could not actually kill them while landing, damage the runways so they could not be used until repaired. Not only was the P51 a great plane, but there were thousands of them, something that could not be said about the German jets, which maybe numbered in the hundreds. Overall also, American pilots were much better trained then their German counterparts, who were poorly trained because of chronic fuel shortages and a lack of safe places for training.
Lieutenants George Schafer and Bud Sibre were bored. They hadn’t seen a German plane in days. This afternoon they flew their birds over southern Germany and were looking for prey on the ground. While George searched the roads below, Bud scanned the skies for Germans. They were not having any luck. The skies were empty and so too were the roads. The only traffic was clearly civilian and they’d been told to not attack civilians, even if they were Germans and doubtless Nazis.
“We know there are Krauts down there, so where are they?” said
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