“Don’t even joke about that,” King said. “No, unfortunately racism and idiocy don’t always go together. Governor Dixon has figured something out that the Ku Klux Klan has known for years; blacks voting means that white control gets voted out of existence up and down the belt.”
“Dear me,” Roosevelt mused. “Ambassador, don’t get me wrong, but I’m sorry that you people arrived. I would have been President again, we would have thrashed Japan, and…”
“I wish I wasn’t here too,” King said. “Mr President, you can’t put the genie back in the lamp. America came all to close to civil war in the 1960s; your task is to try to drain the poison away before it brings America crashing down.”
“And fight a half-hearted war with Germany,” Roosevelt said. “Tell me, what will become of us in the future?”
“We win the war and establish a better world,” King said. “Mr President, we can correct all the mistakes of the past.”
Roosevelt grinned weakly. “But tell me, Ambassador – Jackson – what happens when people don’t want to change?” He chuckled. “Anyway, I’m meant to be meeting the British Prime Minister in a week or so, so I’d better get read up on what the War Department thinks we can do to the Germans.”
No one had been quite certain what to do with the handful of future military personnel from Britain. Almost all of the corporations had offered vast incentives for people with real skills to come work for them, most of which had been terminated when the Queen Elizabeth and its escort had gone under the water. The handful that remained – and had been willing to return to America – had been scooped up by the War Department, led by the very able Henry L. Stimson.
“I confess, Colonel, that these new training methods are very instructive,” Stimson said, examining the report from Lieutenant Colonel Omar Bradley. Simple equipment meant for games, such as paintball, gave the United States a chance to train its soldiers under very realistic conditions.
“It’s only a shadow of what we had before,” Palter said. His exact position remained resolutely unclassified; he seemed to be filling several roles, but only drawing one paycheck. It didn’t seem fair, somehow.
“So you keep saying,” Stimson said wryly. “Virtual reality helmets, live-action replays, improved medical training… holograms – whatever they are – it seems like a wonderland.”
“It was different,” Palter said. The young GIs of 1940 didn’t have the institutionalised cynicism of their descendents. The planned million-man army might take more time than they’d hoped; black men simply weren’t signing up or responding to their draft papers. Only a few thousand had shown up for basic training – and more than a few had deserted after being serenaded with racial taunts.
“And the army is very pleased with the tanks, even though they are insisting on putting an American-designed tank into production soon as well,” Stimson continued. “The Firefly might be miles ahead of what we had once, but it’s not American. The navy, of course, is annoyed at losing its battleships… the entire production plan has been scrapped.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Palter said, insincerely. “War will be based on the carrier and the submarine for some time to come, and missiles will make mincemeat out of any battleship or carrier. We need deployable units, and we need them fast. Given where we plan to attack…”
“Yes,” Stimson agreed. “Tell me, based on your experience; can the operation succeed?”
Palter hesitated. “It depends on our logistics,” he said finally. “Between us and the Canadians, we have a large merchant marine, which we can use to surge-deploy – ah, it means moving a lot of troops and their equipment – to the forward base. I’d suggest using the Shetlands as a launch point, if the Brits will let us. The main problem will be German air power; they have bases in Norway, France, Germany and Denmark.”
He considered for a long moment. “We’ll have to ask the British for more help,” he said. “Some precision strikes against the Germans, some air cover, and some cruise missiles for the German airbases.” He smiled. “It’ll be a lot like Afghanistan, except there won’t be a friendly force on the ground.”
“Politically, this has to be our operation,” Stimson said grimly. “Would the British accept an American commander?”
“They have before,” Palter said. “Someone they know would be best; Colonel George S. Patton, for example. The 2nd Armoured Division, which is fitting out with Fireflies at Fort Benning, would be ideal. Everyone knows that Patton is competent, even though tanks won’t be that useful in Norway.”
“You’re just favouring him because Patton approves your concept of sending in Special Forces,” Stimson said. “It would be a political decision, but even Patton’s detractors admit that he’s more than merely competent.”
“Perhaps Eisenhower as supreme commander, with Patton as field commander,” Palter mused. “Yes, that would work; Eisenhower is a diplomat, which will be vital, and Patton is a fighter.”
“He’s the guy who’ll be President later, right?” Stimson asked thoughtfully. “That would also be a political decision.”
“Blasted politics,” Palter said. Stimson didn’t disagree. “We have to fight and win this war, which is way to important to leave to the politicians.”
“Politics is too important to leave to the politicians,” Stimson said wryly. They spent the next ten minutes happily comparing notes on politicians they had known.
Chapter Ten: The Montreal Conference
Grand Hotel
Montreal, Canada
12th April 1941
Canada, Prime Minister Mackenzie King felt, had suffered more in the wake of the Transition than her fellow Dominion Australia. The Australians had the Japanese on the border, and lived with the threat of invasion, which kept them concentrated on the common enemy. The Canadians, particularly the French-speaking Quebecois, had a friendly and undefended border – the longest undefended border in the world – and nothing to stop anyone using the knowledge of the future for their own interests.
Mackenzie King scowled angrily. Canada was contributing several thousand troops to the Commonwealth force now being armed with modern weapons – the force that would have joined Churchill’s government in the defence of Britain having vanished into the time stream – but there was very little chance of them being able to send any more. Not only had the fact of a future Conscription Crisis arrived on the political landscape, but the Quebecois had woken up to the reality of their continued statelessness.
We won this country from their founders, Mackenzie King thought. He’d taken precautions to intern all the Japanese-Canadians when the war had broken out in the pacific, but even that had come back to haunt him. The Quebecois had started a low-level terrorist – a 2015 term – movement in Quebec, agitating for greater autonomy and an end to conscription of overseas soldiers before it was introduced.
Still, he was looking forward to hosting the meeting in Montreal. He’d fought hard to maintain an independent foreign policy, and having the meeting of the leaders of Britain and America in his country was a big boost, even if it did cause some problems. The protection services of both world leaders had insisted on securing the entire hotel, which had caused the police some annoyance.
The noise of a helicopter rose in the air as the small craft, one of a handful given to Canada in payment for food and fuel, landed neatly in the garden, ignoring the protests of the hotel manager. Mackenzie King shrugged; he didn’t think that either of the leaders was in danger from the Quebecois, or Nazi spies, but it was well to be careful. The civil situation in the United States might spread north, and that was the last think that Mackenzie King wanted.