Kesselring shook his head. Whatever had happened in America – and even the BBC didn’t seem to know – it hadn’t affected the American position in Norway. They had secured Oslo and were currently cleaning up the mess. Once they had managed to clear the fjords of mines and other unpleasant surprises, they would be able to resupply and make their way into Sweden, ignoring Swedish protests.
He scowled. The Russian attack on New York had only annoyed the Americans still further. They might head across Sweden; the British seemed to have had other ideas. He knew what they were doing, and God only knew how much time they had left. They’d certainly been unable to crack the British encryption methods, even with the information that the SS had obtained.
“Mein Fuhrer, the British are planning a landing in Greece,” he said, and had the pleasure of watching Hitler’s jaw drop. The Fuhrer hadn’t expected trouble from Greece; the Greeks had been fairly quiet recently. “They have been spending the last week or so systematically destroying the defences around Athens, using their new bases on Crete.”
He waved a hand at the map. “Mein Fuhrer, they have been building up their forces on Crete, some of their Marines and army units,” he said, silently blessing the SS officer who’d remained on Crete, using a sea cable to make his reports. “Mein Fuhrer, once they take Greece, they can supply resistance fighters all across the Balkans.”
Hitler’s brow furrowed. His doctrine, the nazi system he’d been largely responsible for inventing, considered the Greeks slightly above the Italians and far below the Germans. Common sense and future history pointed out that resistance activities were threats he could hardly ignore.
“More the reinforcements slated for the Middle East front to Greece,” Hitler ordered finally. “Once there, they are to secure Greece; we can hardly afford to lose another country.”
“Jawohl, Mein Fuhrer,” Kesselring said. “I can only hope that the reinforcements get there in time.”
HMS Warspite
Crete, Mediterranean Sea
26th June 1941
Admiral Somerville studied his new fleet with a mixture of dread and eagerness. Apart from Warspite, there were two other battleships, and almost every Contemporary cruiser or destroyer that had been left behind when their Britain vanished, and seventeen modern ships. It was the most powerful force he’d ever commanded and – not counting Admiral Turtledove’s fleet – the most powerful force on the planet.
He grinned like a schoolchild as he studied the display. Nearly every unit in the Mediterranean and the Middle East would be taking part in Redemption, Rommel’s brainchild. Thirty freighters and Marine transports lurked away from the battle fleet, and dozens of aircraft waited on Crete and Egypt, waiting for the command to transport their paratroopers to the target. He shuddered; it was the first time that they’d tangled with the Germans when the enemy had a good supply capability, even if the RAF was going to mess it up pretty badly.
“Sir, the captains are ready for you,” Tom said. Somerville nodded and stalked into the briefing room, where the captains waited.
“Good morning,” Somerville said, as they saluted. “As you may be aware, the plan was to hit Greece.” They nodded. More than a few of them had privately raised concerns about the plan. “I’m here to tell you that that was a bluff, a lie calculated to distract German attention, seeing that we could hardly count on our build-up here being unnoticed, could we?”
He activated the display and watched their expressions. “This is our target,” he said. “It’s the weakest link in their logistics chain, and we’re going to take it from them.” He scowled. “It’s not going to be easy – and I was here the last time we tried something like this – but with the new weapons we can tear up the German lines of communication.
“Gallipoli,” he said, as the map changed. “The Germans have to tranship through Istanbul, and we’re going to take the city. I have it on good authority that the Turks will switch sides as soon as they see us, but it’s not a pre-requisite for success.” He chucked. “For some reason, the Germans have limited the number of Turkish Battalions near their own capital, so even if the Turks fight against us we will have the advantage. Even so…
“The estimate of German forces includes one division near Istanbul, a second one that is currently moving into Greece, but they may send it back, and two divisions dug into the Gallipoli peninsula. Known Turkish forces include three infantry divisions at Gallipoli, defending the straits, and one more in reserve.” He frowned. “Unfortunately, we’re going to have to clobber them as well.”
He adjusted the display again. “The plan is basically simple,” he said. “The fleet will advance towards Gallipoli under cover of darkness, while the RAF will hammer the Germans into the ground. Every remaining cruise missile in the region is going to be used to utterly wreck their communications network; we’ve been told not to waste it. By the time the Germans work out what’s happening, we should have made it through the night, and the Marines will be landing on Gallipoli.”
Another slide. “We have been promised the help of a heavy bomber, which will use SBS men who will be infiltrated into Gallipoli to target JDAM weapons, blasting through the defences and allowing the Marines to land. We have to take them at a run, gentlemen” – he nodded at Brigadier Hampton – “and allow them no time to recover.”
He scowled. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of what happened the last time someone tried this,” he said. “I was there; many of you will have only read about it in history books.” There were a few grim chuckles. “We cannot get stalled; we have to get the Germans out and the Turks out, before they can muster a counterattack.
“The second prong will be landed at the end of the Gallipoli peninsula,” he said. “That’s the main attack force; the Marine division and the modern Army units. They are going to drive to Istanbul, while the fleet clears the passage through the Gallipoli peninsula. Once the fleet sails up to Istanbul, they can surrender and join us, or we’ll reduce their city to rubble.”
HMS Warspite shuddered slightly as her engines came to life, pushing her away from Crete. She hadn’t been docked on the large island, but some of her crew had been allowed shore leave; the Germans hadn’t attempted to toss them back off Crete.
“This is going to be tricky,” he muttered, as the fleet slid through the warm waters of the Aegean Sea. “All this way, on the advice of a damned German.”
“One of their better generals,” Tom pointed out. He passed Somerville a mug of coffee. “We can do this.”
“Never doubted it,” Somerville said. “Given whatever’s going on in America, we have to move quickly, before the Germans take advantage of the confusion.” He scowled. “It’s just the last part of the plan I’m worried about; if we cut off the Germans, they might decide to fight to the end.”
Over Turkey
26th June 1941
Dusk was falling over Turkey as the Harrier jump jet crossed the coastline, heading towards Konya. The Germans were moving an armoured division north, taking it back to Greece, and at the rate it was moving it might be too close to the attack point for comfort by the time the Marines went in.