Read Ice Reich for Free Online Page B
Authors: William Dietrich
was struck by its sterility. There were no miniature people in it.
"Oh Hermann, let me operate one of the trains!" Leni begged. Göring chuckled at her interest.
"And Mr. Hart, you must direct another!" the Reich Minister said. He showed them the controls. With a few jerks as he adjusted the speed, Hart managed to begin moving his train out of its station. The actress succeeded too. The trains traveled around a vast oval, occasionally passing each other on different tracks. It took some concentration to hold their speed at curves and pause at crossings to avoid a possible collision. The others watched politely, chatting among themselves.
"Your skill as a pilot serves you well as an engineer," said a soft voice at Hart's elbow. He glanced sideways. It was Greta.
He nodded, smiling tightly. "I was warned I might be tested, but no one talked about model trains." He nodded toward the actress at the other end of the control box. "Herr Göring does have an enthusiasm for toys, it seems."
Greta shrugged. "She's just for show. Did you know that the Reich Minister took a bullet at the Putsch?"
"Causes him a great deal of pain, apparently."
"In many ways. It was in the groin. Direct your jokes and sympathies accordingly." She smiled mischievously.
Suddenly Göring's voice boomed. "Now, Hart, you must observe airpower in action! Your direction is impressive but what if you're caught in an extremity? How does one keep the system functioning?" He paused dramatically, then pushed a button.
There was a rattle and something swooped down from the shadowy eves above. Hart thought for a moment it was a swallow. Then he saw it was a model of a German Stuka dive-bomber, gliding down across the train as it dangled from a sloping wire. Göring stabbed another button and a pellet fell from its belly, arcing in with expert aim to bounce off one of Hart's boxcars. "A direct hit!" Göring exclaimed. "In combat your train would be cut in two." He laughed. "The next war will be decided in the air."
There was another rattle and a second model airplane flew jerkily down and released again, this time striking Leni's train. "Oh pooh, Hermann!" she exclaimed. "You're such a bully!"
Göring's eyes were already on Hart's train again as it rounded a curve. A third airplane rode its wire down from the gloom, aimed for Hart's engine. The pilot considered a moment, then tightened his hold on the electric throttle. When the pellet fell, he slammed his train to a halt. The bomb bounced harmlessly across the track ahead.
"Flying by wire is too predictable," Hart said.
Göring smiled, but a bit less broadly. "Very true. A quick reaction, Mr. Hart. Unpredictability is the first lesson of war." He emphasized this last, as if he'd sought to make that point to the others. "But I would still have cut the track."
"No matter." The pilot threw his train into reverse. "As a man of prudence, I'd be backing out of that war zone as fast as possible." The group laughed, Greta clapping her hands once in applause.
"And yet there might be an even better strategy." It was Jürgen Drexler, catching the woman's eye. "If you would allow me to take a turn at the controls, Owen?"
"Certainly." The American surrendered the throttle and backed away. The trains began moving around the oval again.
Greta was watching the German with interest and Hart searched for something to continue their conversation. "I understand the Reich Minister is the most popular of Germany's leaders," he finally tried.
She kept her gaze on the railroad, speaking quietly so as not to be overheard. "He's a brave man, I think. But he's had much trauma in his life. Years of exile and poverty, a virtual political outlaw. The loss of his first wife. The wound. It explains perhaps the morphine, the weight, the clothes."
"He certainly likes to dress up."
Greta lowered her voice even further. "We Germans joke about it. The story goes that Göring's Forestry Ministry was going to harvest the Tiergarten to
"Oh Hermann, let me operate one of the trains!" Leni begged. Göring chuckled at her interest.
"And Mr. Hart, you must direct another!" the Reich Minister said. He showed them the controls. With a few jerks as he adjusted the speed, Hart managed to begin moving his train out of its station. The actress succeeded too. The trains traveled around a vast oval, occasionally passing each other on different tracks. It took some concentration to hold their speed at curves and pause at crossings to avoid a possible collision. The others watched politely, chatting among themselves.
"Your skill as a pilot serves you well as an engineer," said a soft voice at Hart's elbow. He glanced sideways. It was Greta.
He nodded, smiling tightly. "I was warned I might be tested, but no one talked about model trains." He nodded toward the actress at the other end of the control box. "Herr Göring does have an enthusiasm for toys, it seems."
Greta shrugged. "She's just for show. Did you know that the Reich Minister took a bullet at the Putsch?"
"Causes him a great deal of pain, apparently."
"In many ways. It was in the groin. Direct your jokes and sympathies accordingly." She smiled mischievously.
Suddenly Göring's voice boomed. "Now, Hart, you must observe airpower in action! Your direction is impressive but what if you're caught in an extremity? How does one keep the system functioning?" He paused dramatically, then pushed a button.
There was a rattle and something swooped down from the shadowy eves above. Hart thought for a moment it was a swallow. Then he saw it was a model of a German Stuka dive-bomber, gliding down across the train as it dangled from a sloping wire. Göring stabbed another button and a pellet fell from its belly, arcing in with expert aim to bounce off one of Hart's boxcars. "A direct hit!" Göring exclaimed. "In combat your train would be cut in two." He laughed. "The next war will be decided in the air."
There was another rattle and a second model airplane flew jerkily down and released again, this time striking Leni's train. "Oh pooh, Hermann!" she exclaimed. "You're such a bully!"
Göring's eyes were already on Hart's train again as it rounded a curve. A third airplane rode its wire down from the gloom, aimed for Hart's engine. The pilot considered a moment, then tightened his hold on the electric throttle. When the pellet fell, he slammed his train to a halt. The bomb bounced harmlessly across the track ahead.
"Flying by wire is too predictable," Hart said.
Göring smiled, but a bit less broadly. "Very true. A quick reaction, Mr. Hart. Unpredictability is the first lesson of war." He emphasized this last, as if he'd sought to make that point to the others. "But I would still have cut the track."
"No matter." The pilot threw his train into reverse. "As a man of prudence, I'd be backing out of that war zone as fast as possible." The group laughed, Greta clapping her hands once in applause.
"And yet there might be an even better strategy." It was Jürgen Drexler, catching the woman's eye. "If you would allow me to take a turn at the controls, Owen?"
"Certainly." The American surrendered the throttle and backed away. The trains began moving around the oval again.
Greta was watching the German with interest and Hart searched for something to continue their conversation. "I understand the Reich Minister is the most popular of Germany's leaders," he finally tried.
She kept her gaze on the railroad, speaking quietly so as not to be overheard. "He's a brave man, I think. But he's had much trauma in his life. Years of exile and poverty, a virtual political outlaw. The loss of his first wife. The wound. It explains perhaps the morphine, the weight, the clothes."
"He certainly likes to dress up."
Greta lowered her voice even further. "We Germans joke about it. The story goes that Göring's Forestry Ministry was going to harvest the Tiergarten to
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