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lead the defense of the city himself.
    The situation was developing rapidly. Keitel frowned. He only hoped not too rapidly. Hitler’s presence in the Alpenfestung was imperative. His personal leadership was essential. If only the Führer would not wait too long. Everything was ready to be activated. Everything.
    Keitel’s frown deepened. How could he tell the Führer of the failure? The first attempt to carry out his orders! The whole thing made him uneasy. He had a nagging suspicion that the Führer placed too great an importance on nonmilitary matters. On the advice of mystics and astrologers. On special missions like the assassination scheme. On promises of new superweapons, like those abortive experiments with nuclear chain reaction the scientists were conducting at Haigerloch. They’d actually told the Führer they could make a bomb the size of a pineapple that could wipe out an entire city! Bah! Puttering around in their caves in the Black Forest. More like black magic! And just as unmilitary and implausible. It was a disturbing suspicion to Keitel, and he did not allow it to grow beyond just that.
    He felt resentful, however, at finding himself involved in the assassination plot. Not for any moral reasons. And the idea did have a certain merit.
    The Führer had been obsessed with the assassination of enemy leaders, both political and military, ever since the failure of “Operation Long Jump,” that abortive assassination attempt at the Big Three meeting in Teheran in the winter of ’43. This time he felt certain failure would not be tolerated. It had become too personal a matter for the Führer. After all, he had been a target himself! At Rastenburg.
    But Keitel anticipated a lot of difficulties. A lot of negative reports would have to be given Hitler. And he didn’t like that. He had enough to contend with. Anyway, it was not the kind of responsibility he should have to shoulder. It was the kind of thing that should be supervised by someone else.
    Someone else? Of course!
    He had the answer. And it could be made part of the greater plan. That was the beauty of it! He turned to Stauffer.
    “Where’s Krueger?” he asked. “What is his status now?”
    “At Thürenberg.” Stauffer joined Keitel at the map. Good for you, Willi! he thought with cynical amusement. I knew you’d find a way to dodge the blame!
    Keitel continued. Once more he sounded like his old stiff self.
    “Krueger is the one to carry out the Führer’s orders. It is to be his responsibility. Part of his overall mission. I want orders prepared at once.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Keitel was pleased with the solution. Simple. Logical.
    “What’s he doing now?”
    “He’s already received his orders to close down Thürenberg. Go operational. Orders from Reichsführer Himmler.”
    “When?”
    “Two days ago. His positions are being prepared now.”
    “Where?”
    Stauffer indicated the locations on the map, all in southern Bavaria.
    “Here . . . here . . . here . . . Headquarters near Schönsee—here—close to his ultimate position in the Alpenfestung.”
    “ Prima! His new orders will have top priority. He is to carry out his mission without delay. The Führer wants results!”
    “ Jawohl, Herr Feldmarschall,” Stauffer said. The old man was back in form again.
    The field marshal contemplated the situation map.
    “The Russians are battering the gates of Berlin. The Americans are still pressing on.” Almost to himself he added, “We must carry on the fight—from the Alpine Fortress. . . .”
    Stauffer turned to leave.
    “Wait!”
    He stopped. He looked expectantly at Keitel.
    “Krueger is only a colonel, is he not?”
    “Yes.”
    “Promote him. Make him a general. Generalmajor. In the name of the Führer!”
    He paused for a moment.
    “One more thing. Reichsamtsleiter von Eckdorf. He is still in Berlin?”
    “I believe so, Herr Feldmarschall.”
    “He has family in the area around Schönsee. Farmers, if I remember correctly.”