Fox On The Rhine by Douglas Niles, Michael Dobson Page A

important and the identities of all the conspirators still unknown. The fear of another bomb had everyone edgy. Even Keitel had suffered himself to be searched. Standing, clearly welcoming the relief from staying too long seated, the field marshal turned his eyes along the table.
    Rowekamp too looked around, carefully studying the faces of his peers on the General Staff. He had known many of them for years, but he could not read them today. Too much uncertainty, too much at stake for people to reveal their true emotions.
    “Perhaps I may summarize?” he ventured, looking from face to face and getting agreement. “Point one: Reichsführer Himmler’s SS units occupy all of Berlin. It is more than possible that should we refuse to cooperate, we will die here.
    “Point two: Since our deaths do not give command of the armies to Himmler, he has little to gain from killing us, and therefore we have some power to negotiate.
    “Point three: Colonel Count von Stauffenberg’s activities did not command unanimous support among our numbers. His opinions, while part of the discussion here, do not control.
    “Point four: The fact that General Bücher has offered a meeting with Himmler suggests that Himmler also sees room for discussion. Perhaps a power-sharing arrangement, a coordination of goals, might be the best possible outcome. Gentlemen, do you agree with this summary?”
    There was general assent except for Jodl and Stauffenberg. Jodl sat like a church mouse, clearly afraid to push Himmler’s views too hard. For now, he seemed willing to remain quiet, though he would inevitably give a full report to the Reichsführer. His duty, his loyalty, and his self-interest remained together.
    Stauffenberg tried one more protest. Standing, he looked down at his colleagues and superiors, his angular and ravaged form casting a dark shadow on the conference table, and contemptuously pronounced his position. “Very well. You remain Nazi puppy dogs. You will discuss and debate and eventually submit to the jackal’s teeth. Understand this, however. I am not alone, and those who agree with me occupy positions of power. Not all of us are revealed. Himmler will have to contend with far more than he knows, as will you. There are no safe harbors, gentlemen. Everyone must take a stand or be swept away in the flood.” He turned on his heel and stiffly marched from the room.
    The arrogance of a mere colonel irritated several of the generals. Nobility or not, rank still mattered--though all ignored the bitter irony that they had been taking orders from a mere corporal--Hitler’s World War I military rank--for years. Still, Stauffenberg represented power. Perhaps he even represented members of this table.
    Rowekamp once more passed his calm gaze over the assembled officers, then concluded. “Perhaps it would be well to accept Himmler’s offer of a meeting, a discussion of the future of the Reich. Then we can meet again and determine the appropriate course of action for our nation and our peoples.”
    There were nods from the other participants. Find out Himmler’s plan. Gain more information. Postpone final decisions. Still shocked by the death of a man who, however mad, had represented the spirit of the German people and embodied their destiny, they struggled with a long-ingrained habit of subordinating their wills to a higher command.
    The consensus was clear. ‘Then we agree. We will meet with Reichsführer Himmler and resume this discussion.”
    General Rowekamp pushed his chair back, rasping across the wooden floor, and stood up, his ancient body aching after sitting for so long. The other officers rose as well. It was a proud moment for the old man. I may have saved my country, he thought. Civil war was at least postponed, possibly foiled. He stood as the officers silently filed out the single wooden door, leaving him alone in the harshly lit room. Wisps of smoke visibly floated in the rays of light.
    Suddenly he had a powerful need to