“Aye, sir,” Corporal Wallace said. “Sir, I think the Germans are aware that something’s up; we have reports of German aircraft rising from Greece.”
“I think they would have noticed the loss of an entire set of divisions,” Hampton muttered. “What about the holdouts?”
A buzz of firing echoed over the rocks for a long moment. “Sir, the 3rd Reconnaissance Company is reporting that the Germans want to surrender. They seem to be rather stunned, sir.”
“I’m not surprised,” Hampton said, as Harrier jets roared overhead. “Inform the air defence component that they are cleared to engage German aircraft if they pose a threat.”
“Aye, sir,” Corporal Wallace said. “Sir, the Harriers are kicking the shit out of them, if you’ll pardon my French, sir!”
The Royal Marine Armoured Brigade, led by the 1st Armoured Infantry Battalion, carefully advanced eastwards, hiding under the coverage of the drones. The blitzkrieg was proceeding slower than they’d expected; a handful of Germans had set up positions and fought desperately against the British. Turkish forces were not in evidence; they seemed to have vanished.
“I wonder if we killed them all,” Captain Yates muttered, as the Challenger II advanced, poking its way towards Istanbul. After losing a Scimitar to a German anti-tank weapon, years ahead of its time, they’d started to use the Challenger’s as scouts; they were still utterly invulnerable.
“Or perhaps they’re under arrest by the Germans,” Corporal Benton suggested. The driver of the Challenger adjusted their course slightly as the mine detector reported mines ahead. “They don’t seem to have invested in their defences.”
“They were counting on us not being capable of such an operation, according to the General,” Yates said. The tank rocked as the mine-clearing vehicle went into action; mines exploded all around them. “Blast it!”
“The drones report another German force ahead of us,” Benton snapped. “HQ is ordering us to advance faster.”
“Can they not see the mines?” Yates snapped. “We’re moving as fast as we can.”
The minefield completed its detonation and the tanks rumbled forwards. Yates gunned the engine as much as he dared, pushing the tank forward towards the German lines. Explosions billowed up ahead of them as the Germans opened fire with field guns, clanging off the Challenger’s armour.
“Return fire,” Benton insisted.
“One moment,” Yates said, carefully targeting the main gun. “Firing!”
The Challenger jumped as a shell blasted out of its main gun and slammed into the German ammunition supply. The other tanks opened fire, destroying the German lines in a shattering crescendo of explosions.
“The golden turrets and minuets of Istanbul lie open to us,” Benton proclaimed. “Onwards, Christian soldiers…”
“We’re not allowed to say that, these days,” Yates said, and then rather spoiled the effect by singing along with him. It wouldn’t be long now, one way or the other.
Chapter Forty-Two: Turkish Delight
Ankara, Turkey
28th June 1941
The Germans hadn’t exactly insisted on garrisoning Ankara, the Turkish capital. They had insisted on stationing an infantry division, Waffen-SS, outside the capital, merely as a pointed reminder to the Turks of the price of non-cooperation. The Turkish Government, utterly dependent upon German imports and aware of the dangers of German and Russian invasion, had been forced to withdraw many of their own units away from the capital, leaving the Germans in sole command of the field.
Oily smoke drifted across the city as the remains of the Waffen-SS division burnt. The British aircraft had struck at it the day before, using a horrific bomb that had burnt them in a tidal wave of burning fuel. The stench was appalling; the smell of burning bodies drifted across the city, forcing the citizens to cover their mouths as they went about their daily business.
President Ismet Inönü studied the message he’d received from the British. It had been clear and to the point; join us and throw out the Germans, or without your help your country will become a battleground for the next few months. He scowled; he had great faith in his men, but he also knew the crushing power of the Germans. Nearly half a million Germans had passed through Turkey to reach the Middle East – promising the Turks Mosul in exchange for their gunpoint cooperation – and the British didn’t have anything like as many troops. Except…
Except that the German forces across Turkey had been hammered. Turkish forces had been left alone – except near Gallipoli – and the German defenders of the entry to the Black Sea had been smashed. Their presence, an offence to Turkish pride, had been removed; only a handful of Germans and a Turkish force stood between the British and Istanbul. Any attempt to bring up field guns, as they had done during the last war, was smashed from the air.
“We could turn on the Germans in our motherland,” Marshal Fevzi Cakmak said. The Chief of the Army Staff had always feared the German threat. “That would not be difficult.”
“And then we would be at war against the Germans,” Inönü said. “Can we defeat the ones left in our country? The British are not to be trusted.”
“They have granted independence to North Africa,” Sukru Saracoglu, Foreign Minister, pointed out. He had always been pro-western; the Germans had demanded his removal on two separate occasions. “The choice is between allowing the Germans to turn our nation into a battleground, and capturing our fighting men in Iraq, or on gambling that the British mean what they say.”
“They are also allied with the Americans,” Cakmak said. “The Americans have stated that this is a war for democracy, not imperialism.”
They exchanged long calculating looks. They were not exactly friends, but they knew that they could rely on each other. “We support the British,” Inönü said. “Marshal, can we round up the Germans in our homeland quickly?”
“They are not at an advantage in our terrain,” Cakmak said. “Yes, we can do it, but we have to strike soon or the British will take Istanbul and we will have no bargaining power at all.”
Inönü nodded. It was ironic that Turkey was depending upon British help; he remembered that the British and the French had proposed using Turkish airbases to attack the Soviet Union. They’d rejected that out of hand; the Allies could not protect Turkey from Stalin. Except, perhaps, they could now. Inönü had seen the devastation after the nuclear strike and it had chilled him to the bone.
“Then get the troops moving,” Inönü ordered. “The forces in Iraq are to stay where they are; they are not to engage the Germans unless fired upon.” He scowled. “if we are to betray them, we could at least take care to avoid making them even more pissed off at us.”
5km west of Istanbul
Turkey
28th June 1941
Standartenfuehrer Kaiser had never trusted the Turks. They were ugly and dark-skinned, reassembling Italians more than the superhuman Germans. Their women were ugly and hid themselves behind enveloping ropes, hiding everything, but their eyes, except when watched by a member of the police. It made no sense to him; in his experience the police watched for indecent exposure, not the other way around.
He chuckled. The women were nothing to write home about in bed; they protested endlessly, even if they accepted the payments from the SS men afterwards. They went on and on about their God, even though their own government was attacking their religion and on and on…