Himmler’S Mistress

By Sam Cromartie

Heinrich Himmler sent Valentina Schneider to a concentration camp for helping Jews and Allied soldiers to escape from Germany during WWII. Her sons and their father, Ivan, rescued her in the last month of the war.

In this final book of the Romanov Legacy trilogy, Valentina returns to her home in Munich. Her sons go to Soviet territory to find their girlfriends, but the Soviets arrest both men. Ivan goes back to Moscow to free them.

Valentina had attended many parties with Hitlers leadership, and rumors abounded that she had been Himmlers mistress. She owned a lens factory near Munich. Nazi administrators brought slave labor to the factory while she was in the death camp. Allied prosecutors believe she was responsible and charge her with war crimes. They incarcerate her with Goering and the Nazi leadership who await trial at Nuremberg.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543432336

Sam Cromartie

Sam Cromartie M.D. is a graduate of the University of North Carolina and a veteran of the Vietnam War. He served as a thoracic and cardiovascular surgeon on the faculty at Indiana University School of Medicine and as chief of thoracic and cardiovascular surgery at Halifax Medical Center in Daytona Beach, Florida. He has published numerous articles in medical journals and is co-author with Richard J. Duma M.D., Ph.D. of High-Tech Terror: Recognition, Management, and Prevention of Biological, Chemical, and Nuclear Injuries Secondary to Acts of Terrorism (Charles C Thomas, Publisher). He has published three historical novels and three thrillers prior to this political thriller. He lives on an island off the coast of Florida. For detailed information, check his webpage at www.samcromartie.com.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

GERMANY (APRIL 1945)

Valentina drifted in and out of sleep. She could hear voices—familiar voices, but concentrating on the words took too much strength. The beatings—the lack of food—the months of hard labor in Ravensbrueck Concentration Camp had drained the energy from her body.

She could not understand how she was alive. Himmler had ordered her death. Her thoughts meandered in a fog. The room bounced and tilted to the left. Her eyes flew open. They focused on her surroundings. She was no longer in the death camp. She lay in an airplane with her head in someone’s lap.

She lifted her gaze and stared at the man’s face. It seemed impossible. Ivan was in Moscow. He would never leave Mother Russia, and Stalin would kill him if he tried. How did he get here? How did he find me? How did he get me away from the Nazi guards? Why did he come for me at all? I thought he would never leave his Communist utopia.

Rain and wind pummeled the plane. It bounced on the currents of air. Ivan wrapped his arms around her as if he could protect her from any danger. It felt good. She had been alone for far too long, and living in the camp had seemed far worse than death. For months she had prayed for it all to end. Now she hoped for a new beginning.

Valentina wondered what her life would have been like if Ivan had come with her to Germany twenty-eight years ago. She would not have been stuck in a loveless marriage nor forced to hobnob with Hitler and the worst of Nazi society. She could have gone with Ivan and their sons to Switzerland and avoided all the mayhem that the Fuehrer and Stalin created.

She had fled Russia after Bolsheviks slaughtered her family. It had been a horrible time, much like the present, with evil men destroying everything that was noble and good. Ivan had been her lover and the father of her twin sons, but he was a Bolshevik, and he stayed to lead the revolution. She wondered if he regretted that decision and if he wished he had stayed with her.

Her boys were men now. They had come with Ivan to rescue her, and seeing them together filled her with pride and relief that they were alive.

She could feel the plane descending. Her ears popped. She wanted to know where it was landing. Nowhere was safe. She had betrayed the Reich. The SS would kill her no matter where she went, and she hated to think what they would do to Ivan and her sons.

The stolen German Siebel Si 204 transport plane bounced onto the runway of the American base in the western portion of Germany occupied by the Allies. Ivan watched through the window as jeeps sped toward the aircraft and soldiers aimed their rifles. We’re going to die, he thought. We should never have entered American air space. It’s all my fault.

The pilot yelled something to him. The wind whistling through the bullet holes in the fuselage drowned his voice.

Ivan prayed that the troops would ignore the swastika on the side of the plane and would not open fire with their automatic weapons. His family was together for the first time. They could be wiped out in seconds.

Valentina had drifted back to sleep. He could not believe how thin and weak she was. He stared at her face. She’s still beautiful. After all this time, she takes my breath away. I was a fool to stay in Russia. I should have come with her.

The plane rolled to a stop. The pilot opened the door and stepped to the ground. He was a tall man dressed in a shabby American Air Force uniform. He ignored the soldiers who pointed rifles at him. He spoke with a Texas accent to the major who appeared to be in charge. I’m Lieutenant Colonel John Sloan. I have a critically ill passenger.

The major ignored his salute. "What are you doing flying a German plane? We could have—should have shot you down."

The Germans destroyed my bomber over Poland. They threw me into a POW camp in Poland. We escaped and hooked up with partisans. Been fighting the Germans.

We?

The men in the Siebel helped me escape. We captured the plane and flew it to Ravensbrueck to rescue our passenger.

That’s impossible. You can’t expect me to believe that nonsense.

Ivan did not care what he believed. He just knew that Valentina could not survive if she didn’t get to a doctor. He left his pistol on the floor, lifted Valentina, and stepped out of the plane. The guards swung their M1 carbines toward him. The major yelled, Stay where you are.

Ivan continued down the steps. He thrust Valentina into the man’s arms. This woman needs help. She’s going to die if you don’t take her to a hospital.

The officer glared at Ivan but handed Valentina to the private who stood beside him. Take her to the infirmary.

Yes sir. The private carried her to an ambulance that had parked behind the jeeps.

Ivan pivoted to follow, but the major stopped him, I didn’t say you could leave.

Ivan looked back at the ambulance. I need to go with her.

You aren’t going anywhere until I know what’s going on here. Who are you, and what were you doing in an enemy airplane?

Ivan relied on the English that he learned at Moscow University before the revolution—before he joined the Bolsheviks and before he became Stalin’s Deputy Minister of Defense. He wished he could tell the truth—that he had faked his death and flown from Moscow to rescue Valentina. The problem with the truth was Stalin. If he learned that Ivan was alive and hiding in Germany, he would demand that the Allies return him for trial. Fleeing the Soviet Union was treason in his eyes, and the punishment was death.

I’m a Pole, he lied. The Germans threw me into the POW camp with Sloan.

Where’d you learn to speak English?

We had schools in Warsaw before the Germans came.

So why did you go to Ravensbrueck? Who is the woman?

He wondered how much he should tell the American. Valentina had been married to a U-boat commander who was a personal friend of the Fuehrer until the Americans sent the vessel with its crew to the bottom of the Atlantic. It seemed best not to mention that fact. Her name is Valentina Schneider. She immigrated to Munich from Russia during the revolution. She was a leader of the resistance until the SS caught her. Himmler sent her to Ravensbrueck.

What’s that got to do with you?

This time he told the truth. I knew her before the last war ended. She is the mother of my two sons. He lifted his gaze to the steps as Karl and Yuri descended them.

The two men stood tall with identical brown hair and blue eyes. Yuri was thinner than Karl due to his time spent in a German POW camp. Otherwise the men were indistinguishable.

The major placed his right hand on his pistol and stared at the twins. Put your hands behind your head and drop to your knees.

Valentina awoke to darkness. Her skin felt damp, and her body, cold. She lay on a canvas cot in a large tent. She was not alone. There were at least thirty cots, all occupied by sick men and women. Her stomach churned. She tried to get off the cot but did not have the strength. She leaned over the edge and wretched.

Nothing came up, but her stomach settled. She wanted to return to sleep. Chills kept her awake. She did not know where she was nor who these people were. The smell of rubbing alcohol mingled with the faint odor of vomit.

She saw the IV tubing taped to her arm and the bottle of fluid hanging on a pole beside her and realized she was in some sort of hospital.

Her teeth chattered so loudly that she wondered why none of the other patients stared at her. She heard someone in the next cot praying out loud in English, and she remembered. This is an American base. What will they do to us?

For years the radio and the newspapers in Bavaria had told her that the Americans were barbarians. She assumed it was propaganda, but she also knew that war hardens people.

She could not believe she was alive—that Ivan and her two sons had rescued her. She had no idea how they accomplished such an improbable feat. For that matter, she could not understand how they got together in the first place.

Karl was an infant when she took him to Germany. She had raised him on her estate in Bavaria until Hitler began his chaos and Karl joined the Wehrmacht against her will. She helped Jews and allied soldiers to escape to Switzerland while Karl fought for the Fatherland.

Yuri stayed behind in Russia. Ivan promised to bring him to Bavaria, but that did not happen. Until yesterday, she had not known if he was alive or dead.

Now they were in American hands, and she had no idea what to expect.

She lay awake the remainder of the night until the first strands of morning light revealed men in the uniforms of American soldiers. They brought trays of food to all the patients. She stared at her two eggs, bacon, and toast and wondered how she could eat it all. Her body was used to a bowl of porridge and a piece of bread for an entire day. Just lifting her fork took all of her energy. She was glad that her injured thumb was the left one. She had broken it during her escape.

One of the soldiers helped her to sit on the side of the bed. She tried to eat. After several bites, her stomach balked. Nausea and hunger assaulted her simultaneously. She set her fork on her plate. I’d like to lie down now.

She was glad for the ability to speak English. Perhaps her knowledge would help her to survive.

You need to eat.

I know. I’ll try later.

The man left the tray on the table beside her cot. Valentina lay back and closed her eyes. Just sitting for a few minutes exhausted her. She tried to go back to sleep, but fear kept her awake. Where is Ivan? What have they done with Karl and Yuri?

Yuri awoke on a cot in a tent. Karl slept in the adjacent cot. The cots were luxury for both men. The ground served as their usual bed. In spite of the comfort, Yuri could not sleep. He did not like having a guard outside his tent, and he was unsure what the Americans would do with him and his family. He had barely survived being a prisoner of the Germans, and he did not relish being a prisoner again.

The flap flew open. Two American soldiers stepped into the crowded space. They took Karl with them, leaving a third soldier to stand vigil just outside the tent.

Yuri had no idea why they took his brother and left him. They had both withstood hours of interrogation last night. Both had declared they were Polish citizens who fought against the Germans. Both lied.

Karl had fought as a tank commander under Rommel. He had earned the Knight’s Cross, and many Germans would have considered him a hero. Toward the end, he became Commandant at the POW camp where Yuri and John were incarcerated.

Although he had led the prison revolt that freed them, it did not seem wise to alert any of the Allies that he had been in charge of a POW camp. The war was almost over, and retribution for all the atrocities that Germany committed was coming.

Yuri had fought for the Russians, but he did not want to return to the Soviet Union. He had survived living in a gulag and felt no desire to repeat that experience. If the Americans notified their ally that Yuri had defected, the Soviets would demand that they return him to them. It was best to deny any attachment to that country.

He dressed and waited for Karl to return. After an hour, a different soldier entered the tent. Come with me, he said.

Yuri did not want to go, but he knew better than to resist. The man led him to a huge tent. Karl sat at a table eating breakfast with Ivan and John. An American general sat beside John. He looked up at Yuri and waved for him to join them.

John stood and introduced Yuri to his good friend, the base commander.

When Valentina reopened her eyes, she saw Ivan sitting in a chair beside her bed. He looked as handsome as he did in 1916 when he saved her life and became her lover. It had been a union with no future. He was a Communist, and she was a cousin to the tsar.

Ivan placed a hand on her forehead. Your fever has broken.

She still found it hard to believe that he had left Russia to rescue her from the Nazi death camp. How did you find me?

He leaned toward her as if he thought her weakness included her hearing. A friend at the American Embassy in Moscow helped. One of their spies learned that you were at Ravensbrueck.

She lifted her arm and touched his hair. But why—why did you come for me after all these years?

Because I made a mistake. I should have gone with you when you left Russia.

Yes, you should have. We could have lived a good life together.

He took the toast from her tray and lifted it to her mouth. We are not that old. Maybe there is still time.

The tent flap opened. Yuri entered. Valentina studied his face, unsure which of her sons he was. Karl had been on the eastern front with the Wehrmacht for much of the war, and she had seen Yuri only once since he was an infant.

Her son kissed her forehead and said, Hello, Mother.

Yuri?

Yes.

They swore to me that you were dead. I would never have left Russia without you.

I know. He hugged her and then sat in the chair on the opposite side of the bed from Ivan. He told her about his childhood on a farm near Moscow and how the Germans captured him while he was fighting to save Leningrad.

She told him about her beautiful home in Munich. She could not wait to take him there.

Fatigue overcame her efforts to stay awake, and she fell asleep.

When Valentina awoke, Yuri and Ivan were talking in Russian with an American officer. The man wore a crisp air force uniform covered with medals.

Ivan grasped her hand. Valentina, I would like you to meet Lieutenant Colonel John Sloan. He is a friend of the base commander and is the reason we are being treated like VIPs. He also is the pilot who got us out of Ravensbrueck.

Valentina stared up at the man who had helped to save her life. Thank you. What made you volunteer for such a dangerous mission?

John explained how the Germans captured him after his plane crashed in Poland. He and Yuri became roommates in a POW camp and would have died if Karl had not become the commandant. Karl helped us revolt after he learned that Himmler arrested you. We took over the camp and then set out to find you.

What about Ivan?

We found him at Auschwitz.

She looked at the father of her sons. What were you doing there?

He shrugged. Looking for you.

She shook her head in amazement.

CHAPTER 2

GERMANY (MAY 24, 1945)

Valentina ignored her fatigue and took another step forward. Her legs shook, but she knew she would not fall as long as Yuri supported her. The chills had stopped, and her appetite had returned. She savored the fresh air after a month’s confinement to the tent.

Yuri was no longer a stranger. He spent hours talking with her every day. His life, at last, was a part of her life. Valentina felt her legs sway like sticks of licorice in the heat. She let Yuri guide her to a bench. They sat and rested, absorbing the heat from the midday sun. Her life was finally coming together. The war in Europe had ended. Hitler had killed himself, and the British had captured Himmler. The Nazis would never harm her again. I’m forty-six. That is not too old to start over, and I can do it with Ivan and both of my sons. We can be a real family at last.

She leaned her head on Yuri’s shoulder. I can’t wait to show you Munich. You’re going to love it there. When he failed to respond, she sat upright and looked at his face. There was sadness there, and he would not meet her gaze. What’s wrong?

I’m going back to the Soviet Union.

Fatigue swept over Valentina. Yuri gripped her shoulders and kept her from sinking to the ground. When her strength returned, she tried to maintain a semblance of composure. Why?

Yuri twisted on the seat to face her. Tania.

He had told her about the pilot who had been his girlfriend before the war, but Valentina had gotten the impression that the affair had ended. I thought she broke up with you.

He kept a hand on her shoulder as if he feared she might faint. She did, but I talked with Ivan last night. Tania flew the plane that brought him from Moscow to Germany to reach Karl and me. She told him that she still loves me.

Can’t she come here?

Yuri shook his head. She doesn’t know where I am. She probably thinks I’m dead.

Send her a message on the short wave radio. You can’t go there. They’ll execute you.

I don’t know where she is.

Then you will never find her.

A shadow fell across her face. Valentina looked up to see her other son. Thank God. Maybe Karl can talk some sense into his brother.

Karl greeted them with enthusiasm. Himmler is dead.

Valentina felt her mouth fall open. What happened?

Suicide. He swallowed a potassium cyanide capsule yesterday.

Why?

John says the Allies were going to try him for war crimes. I can’t think of anything more humiliating, and the end result would have been the same.

Valentina thought of her convoluted relationship with the man and felt glad that it was finally over. I hope there really is a hell. Heinrich and Adolf can be roommates forever.

Karl sat beside her on the bench. It’s hard to believe that it’s finally over.

Valentina grasped his hand. Yuri wants to return to Russia.

He frowned. We didn’t want to tell you when you were so sick.

His expression told her that there was more that he did not want to tell her. So what else are you hiding?

Both men fell silent. Karl looked away, his face grim. When he returned his gaze to her, tears moistened his eyes. I’m leaving too. I told you about Berta, the nurse who saved my life in France. I have to find her.

Valentina gasped. Yuri was special, but Karl had been the focus of her life since she left Russia. But she’s in Berlin. The Soviets control it.

I know.

You can’t go there. You were commandant of a POW camp. They will kill you.

I have no choice. I love her.

Valentina fought back the tears. It was not fair. Her sons had returned to her after years of grief and fear, and now she was losing them again, probably forever. Their lives were taking an eerie parallel course to hers. She thought of Ivan’s decision not to come for her years ago and of the curse it had put on the entire family. Now her sons faced a similar choice, and she wanted them to make the same mistake.

CHAPTER 3

HANOVER GERMANY (JULY 1, 1945)

Valentina stood on the crumbled street in Hanover as dark clouds rolled across the summer sky seeming to reflect the fragile state of her world. The war was over, but its level of destruction had been so all encompassing that it seemed mankind might never recover. It was as if God had finally lost patience with his wayward flock and had unleashed his four horsemen to wreck war, pestilence, famine, and death upon all peoples, good and evil alike.

Germany had suffered the fate she had dealt to most of Europe. Her population was depleted, factories had been destroyed, homes were ruined, and the victorious Allies had divided her land among themselves. The home of the master race was no longer a nation. It was just a swollen refuge of starving, humiliated, uprooted people. Many were refuges from all over the continent.

She wondered if the terror had ended. Would the victors allow her to return home and to rebuild, or would their thirst for vengeance push aside all compassion?

As she walked toward the ancient courthouse, she pondered how long it would take her strength to return. She had always been strong. Now the effort of walking exhausted her. She looked at the rubble that had once been Hanover and let flow the hate she felt for the Fuehrer. Hitler was dead now, but the mayhem he had created would last for decades.

She wondered if her Munich had suffered the same destruction and if her mansion and factories were still intact, and for that matter, if they still belonged to her. Perhaps she would learn something at this meeting.

The courthouse was one of the few structures standing, and it had suffered damage from the American bombs. Wooden planks sealed the shattered windows, and broken glass covered the ground. Four elderly men worked on the roof, repairing a large hole. There were not many young men left to do the work.

Two American MPs blocked her path. She knew they would not hurt her, but months in Ravensbrueck had conditioned her to fear anyone in uniform. She held out her pass. They stepped aside, pointing to the entrance.

Climbing the marble stairs, she pushed through the large wooden doors and entered a wide foyer filled with American soldiers and German civilians, all trying to communicate in their native languages. A long hallway lined with closed doors guarded by soldiers extended from the room. She walked into the hall, stopping at the third door on the right.

A tall American soldier stood at attention. His blonde hair, blue eyes, and no compromise expression brought back frightening memories that made her want to flee. Instead, she presented her pass. He studied it and then opened the door.

Valentina stepped into a sparsely furnished room. It held a small table and two chairs. The walls were bare. Boards covered the only window, and the summer wind blew hot air through the cracks. An American major sat at the table. His short mustache mimicked that of her country’s fallen ruler, and the scowl on his face warned her to expect no sympathy.

He remained seated, and after a long pause, pointed to the chair at the opposite side of the table. He spoke in broken German. Sit down.

Valentina had expected to talk to someone who would help her to get home. This man reminded her of Heinrich Himmler on the day he accused her of treason.

In the past, her beauty and her breeding had opened doors, causing men like Hitler and Goering to seek her company. She was still a stunning woman with long blonde hair, intense blue eyes, and a sharp mind, but the passage of years and imprisonment for months in Ravensbrueck had taken their toll. Her voluptuous figure was now thin and frail. This would change with time, but that was no help now. Somehow, she could sense that this man hated everything German. She wanted the interview to end quickly, so she decided to make it easier for him.

We can speak English if you prefer.

He shifted to the American language without changing the stern tone of his voice. Sit down.

She did as instructed and waited, wishing she were somewhere else.

He spoke with a detached voice like a bureaucrat giving an uninspiring speech. I am Major Albert Polk, an attorney for the United States Army. You arrived at our evacuation hospital under rather strange circumstances just before the war ended. I need to ask you some routine questions. Do you understand?

Yes.

You claim your name is Valentina Schneider?

The doubt in his voice angered her, but she concealed her disdain. That is my name.

And you are from Bavaria?

For the last 28 years. I was raised in Russia but fled during the Bolshevik revolution.

His eyes darkened. So you’re a communist?

Definitely not. I hate the communists. This bully had no way of comprehending the depth of her hatred for the fanatics who had stolen her Russia. It even surpassed her feeling for the Nazis. After all, the Bolsheviks had massacred her parents and sisters. She had barely escaped meeting the same fate."

He scribbled notes on a yellow pad. You could have gone anywhere. Why did you pick Bavaria?

My mother was German. She moved to Russia to marry my father. After the Bolsheviks murdered them, I went to Munich to live with her sister. She did not bother to tell him her father was the Tsar’s cousin and that the Bolsheviks tried to kill them all to ensure that no Romanovs survived to reclaim the throne later.

He seemed totally uninterested in her story. Are you a member of the Nazi party?

No, but my husband was. I hated Hitler and everything he stood for.

He rolled his eyes. Why is it that every single person I have interviewed suddenly has decided they hated Hitler?

Why is he such a jerk? It does not help him or me. I was very impressed with him when we first met, but after I attended one of his rallies, I realized he was a madman.

The major lifted his hand. His bored expression faded. You personally knew the Fuehrer?

Yes.

You actually carried on a conversation with him?

Yes. She wondered what all these questions could possibly have to do with her returning home.

How many times.

She shrugged and tilted her head backward. "I don’t know. Maybe