“I think a basic supply of food each week would be reassuring to most people,” Krueger said, bluntly. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”
“And we’re moving people from the east,” Voss added. “We’re going to have to feed them too.”
“I know,” Krueger said. It was yet another headache. “And people here aren’t going to welcome them either.”
Volker sighed, inwardly. The refugees were unlikely to be welcomed, not by people who barely had enough to eat and drink themselves. But they had to be moved from their homes, if only to keep them safe. The SS was unlikely to be pleasant to anyone who hadn’t already declared themselves for Germany East. Indeed, it was quite likely that any civilians they encountered would pay a steep price.
He sighed, again. He needed his sleep; he needed to lie beside his wife and pretend, if only for a few hours, that he was nothing more than a simple factory worker. But there were too many things they needed to discuss – and hash out – before he could seek his bed. A mistake now might come back to haunt them when the SS finally started its advance.
At least Holliston has his own problems, he thought, dryly. But does he have so many bickering subordinates?
Chapter Four
Germanica (Moscow), Germany East
1 September 1985
Karl Holliston had always loved Germanica.
He stood on the balcony and gazed out over the city. Moscow – old Moscow – was gone, save for a handful of buildings that had once been the beating heart of the long-dead Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. Schoolchildren were taken there every year, where they were told about how Stalin had been trying to flee Moscow when he’d been killed and just how much the Reich had done for the country. Russia was now the breadbasket of the Reich, the source of true Aryan greatness. The fact that the Russians themselves were a threatened minority in their own country was neither here nor there, as far as Holliston and his fellows were concerned. They were, after all, Untermenschen.
Adolf Hitler had wanted to be an architect, Karl recalled, and Albert Speer had been more than happy to make his dreams reality. Germanica was larger-than-life, dominated by towering gothic buildings and monuments to the great victories won by the Third Reich over its many enemies. There was something about the sheer grandeur of the buildings that made Untermenschen feel small and puny, Karl knew, even though he felt the buildings suited him and his dreams. Here, there were no limitations on the Volk. No accountants to quibble over the cost, no bleeding-heart westerners moaning and whining about ‘human rights;’ nothing to stand in their way as they built the Thousand Year Reich. And not a single Untermensch in sight!
He leaned forward, enjoying the view. Blond young men, wearing a multitude of uniforms, strolling beside blonde-haired young women who were clearly readying themselves for a happy life of Kinder, Küche, Kirche. They would birth and raise the next generation of Germans – true Germans, Germans who would not let anything stand in their way between them and true greatness. It was with them, Karl was sure, that he would take the entire world and remake it, as Hitler himself had dreamed. And now the time was at hand.
Smiling, he took one last look, then turned and strolled back into the office. It was large, a duplicate of the giant room Hitler had occupied before he’d died in 1950. Two SS flags hung from the walls, surrounding a giant map of the world. Germany East was immense, stretching from what had once been Poland to Kamchatka, but he knew better. It would be the work of generations before Germany East was tamed. Until then, it would continue to breed strong and hardy Germans willing to do whatever it took to keep themselves alive.
“Mien Führer,” Maria said. His assistant was standing by the door, seemingly unwilling to walk over to the desk. It had been decades since the Reich had a true Führer and no one was quite sure how to react. “Oberstgruppenfuehrer Alfred Ruengeler is here, as you requested; he’s currently waiting in the antechamber. Your… other guest is currently passing through security.”
Karl smiled. He hadn’t missed the hint of disapproval in her voice. Maria was, in very many ways, a strict conservative. Quite how she squared that with actually working outside the home was beyond him, but it hardly mattered. Maria couldn’t hope to wield power on her own, not in the remorselessly masculine SS. She was loyal because none of Karl’s rivals would trust her any further than they could throw her.
“Have her wait in the antechamber, once she arrives,” he ordered. “And show the Oberstgruppenfuehrer in.”
He sat down at the desk and smiled to himself as Oberstgruppenfuehrer Alfred Ruengeler entered the room. Ruengeler had been working a desk for the last four years, but he was still a tall powerfully-built man with short blond hair and a badly-scarred face. Karl knew that he took every opportunity he could to get out of the office and tour the settlements personally, despite the risk of assassination. Ruengeler had just never been very comfortable serving behind a desk. Indeed, he’d even requested a transfer to South Africa, even though it would have meant an effective demotion.
A fighter, Karl thought, as Maria brought them both coffee. The SS blend, not the weak slop served in Berlin. And I need fighters.
“Mein Führer,” Ruengeler said. “I have the report you requested.”
Karl leaned forward, eagerly. “Can you complete the mission?”
“I believe so, Mein Führer,” Ruengeler said. “Our tactics were designed for a rapid advance against stiff enemy opposition. Here, we are intimately familiar with much of the terrain involved, an advantage we had no good reason to expect during training. A combined-arms thrust involving both armour and elite forces should be more than sufficient to open the route to Berlin.”
He paused. “The true danger is the enemy withdrawing into Berlin.”
Karl snorted. “They’ll never be able to hold the city.”
Ruengeler looked doubtful. “The Slavic Untermenschen held Leningrad for three years, even though they were grossly inferior to us,” he said. “They were eating one another when the defences finally fell. I would expect better from the Berliners. If we fail to take Berlin quickly, we will have real problems imposing our will on the remainder of the Reich.”
“Then we will thrust as hard as we can,” Karl said, firmly. “Do we have any major problems?”
“Our air support arm is going to have problems,” Ruengeler said, flatly. “Much of the forces at our disposal were designed for close-air support, not air supremacy. We have a number of jet fighters at our disposal, but the traitors have more. They also have all five aircraft carriers into the bargain.”
“We are already taking steps to handle their advantages,” Karl said. It was wasteful, but he would sooner lose half the Luftwaffe than the Reich. Soldiers, sailors and airmen were meant to be expended, if necessary. “And the Kriegsmarine is unlikely to take a major role in events.”
“They do have marines, Mein Führer,” Ruengeler reminded him. “And their ship-mounted cruise missiles may be a major problem.”