Fox On The Rhine by Douglas Niles, Michael Dobson

coffee, before the stench of stale smoke and sweat made eyes water, before the harsh glare of the lights began to reflect the building madness, Rowekamp had made his key decision. Consensus ...we must avoid civil war, chaos for the Fatherland. I will lead gently, bring out all sides, and find the solution with which all can live .
    It had been a mission far more difficult than any he’d faced in a long, if undistinguished, career. But he had persevered, encouraging, listening, moderating.
    At first only Stauffenberg, a mere colonel but the most visible of the conspirators and known to all present as the assassin of Adolf Hitler, had felt utterly free to proclaim his opinion.
    “We are this close to peace! We cannot surrender all to that Nazi clown in a black costume! Our coup has been a success; Himmler cannot take power without your consent!” Stauffenberg pounded his remaining hand on the long, oaken conference table.
    “Murderer!” Jodl hissed. “Traitor to the Reich! The führer’s mission must be completed. None of you here have any right to gainsay the führer’s orders. With Göring dead--at your hand, no doubt--Himmler is the highest-ranking party official; it is utterly right, legal, and moral that he assume leadership of party and nation.” Left unstated was a likelihood obvious to all: Jodl would then become his chief of staff.
    “We did not kill Göring, you irrelevant lackey,” von Stauffenberg snarled. “It was Himmler himself, don’t you understand? You have sold out your people to kiss Hitler’s rosy red rectum. Now you’re only looking for another ass to kiss.”
    Jodl was on his feet in an instant; there was murder in his eyes. “Traitor!” he hissed. The look on his face made it clear he could not understand why the others at the meeting had not already executed Hitler’s assassin. Stauffenberg looked at him with equal hatred, about to launch into another tirade.
    “That is enough,” Rowekamp interjected curtly. “Jodl, von Stauffenberg, this meeting is to discuss the issues at hand, not trade personal insults. In my day, we settled matters like yours on the field of honor. Colonel Count, do remember that Jodl is still your superior officer. Accord him the respect his rank warrants.”
    Sullenly, the one-armed colonel yielded to military discipline. “Jawohl, mein General.” He saluted and slowly sat back down. Jodl did not salute, but also sat.
    Field Marshal Model straightened up in his high-backed seat. “This matter must be discussed, of course, but it is the very height of insanity for us to consider the transition of power and the future of the State while looking down the barrels of Himmler’s guns. Let us not forget that we command the armies of the Reich. Himmler knows that our deaths will not bring the armies under his control. There is a chain of command, and the other commanders are with their forces. Himmler has not won yet.”
    Murmurs of assent from the assembled generals at Model’s assertion helped lower the combative temperature of the room.
    Field Marshal Keitel put up his hand. His face was blistered and bandaged, and all knew that he had been very near to the bomb that had killed Hitler. Still, the wounding did not seem to have affected his aura of command. “Field Marshal, I utterly agree. We are soldiers. There is a chain of command. Our deaths may not matter to the destiny of the Reich. That is perfectly true. But our deaths do mean something to ourselves; at least that is true in my case. Perhaps today is the day when we must all fall on our swords like true German heroes. Then again, perhaps this is not the moment. I, myself, am not eager that it be thus.”
    Model laughed. “Field Marshal Keitel, I am not eager for it either.”
    The gallows humor had the desired effect. Keitel stood up to pour himself another cup of the awful brew that even the Reich’s leaders were now forced to drink. No orderlies were allowed in this room; the matter was too