If we can, Gudrun thought. She felt cold. If they take Berlin, everyone in this room is doomed.
“Right now, we are skirmishing with the advance elements as planned, bleeding them while preserving as much of our own firepower as possible,” Voss added. “However, they have gained a number of advantages, including localised air supremacy. I do not expect to be able to stop them short of Berlin.”
Kruger leaned forward. “Can’t you speed up the process of moving troops from the west?”
“I was getting to that,” Voss said.
He nodded towards the map on the wall. Someone had been marking the paper with red ink, each one – Gudrun assumed – representing a missile strike. She was no expert, but she couldn’t help noticing that a number of strikes had taken place to the west. And yet, was she reading the map wrong? Why would the SS strike targets that were not in their way?
Voss explained. “My staff have reports of commando strikes and missile attacks targeting bridges to the west of Berlin,” he said. “While those strikes have done relatively little damage, they have successfully delayed our movements. Getting panzers from the west eastwards will take weeks, more time – perhaps – than we have. We’re currently working on reworking the operational plan to account for the lost bridges – we can throw up pontoons ourselves, if necessary – but it will take time.”
“And perhaps allow them to secure the armoured forces without a fight,” Schulze observed, darkly. “If we lose…”
“Yes, Herr Chancellor,” Voss said. “It would be unrealistic of us to expect isolated units to continue to fight on after Berlin falls.”
He took a long breath. “The offensive is only nine hours old,” he added. “I expect we will have a clear idea of their true rate of advance by the end of the day, but such matters are always very variable. We will be targeting their bridges with as much enthusiasm as they targeted ours, for example. And they will need to stop and resupply their forces from time to time. Our stay-behind units may have a chance to give them another bloody nose.”
“Thank you,” Schulze said. He glanced at Generalfeldmarschall Markus Brandenburg, who looked grim. “What happened to the Luftwaffe?”
“We took a bloody nose,” Brandenburg said. He sounded angry at his own words. “They attacked a number of airbases, killing or wounding well over three hundred pilots as well as destroying a number of planes. Our hopes of air supremacy were destroyed with them, Herr Chancellor. We may have to husband our remaining fast-jet fighters just to keep a protective shroud over Germany Prime.”
He glared at the map, as if it had personally offended him. “The SS always controlled far too many CAS aircraft,” he added. “They have a very definite advantage in that category.”
“Because you refused to fly them for us,” Voss snapped. “You never wanted the Heer to have its own air arm.”
“It flies, it’s ours,” Brandenburg snapped back. “If that principle had been honoured, the SS wouldn’t be anything like a major threat!”
Schulze slapped the table, hard. “Enough,” he said, sharply. “There is no point in trying to refight the battles of the past. We must grapple with the situation facing us, rather than the situation we would wish.”
Gudrun nodded in agreement. Her father had been a young man when the Luftwaffe had stubbornly insisted on hoarding all aircraft to itself, even though both the Heer and the Kriegsmarine had wanted aircraft of their own. She wasn’t sure how the SS had managed to build up its own air force, but she had a feeling – reading between the lines – that CAS aircraft were seen as inherently less glamorous than fast-jet fighters. And yet, when fighting a counterinsurgency, fast-jet fighters were far less useful than slow but precise bombers.
“Yes, Herr Chancellor,” Brandenburg said. He paused. “We are looking at ways to move support aircraft back from South Africa, but that will require some degree of cooperation from the French. Can we trust them to help us?”
Schulze looked at Gudrun. “Your thoughts?”
“The French aren’t stupid,” Gudrun said. It flew in the face of pre-uprising orthodoxy, but she didn’t care. “I think they understand, deep inside, that an SS victory spells doom for France. Holliston is not going to let them get away with trying to take advantage of the Reich’s problems for themselves. The panzers that roll through Berlin will keep rolling until they reach Vichy. I don’t expect the French to do anything that might prevent us winning the war.”
“Unless they’re scared of Holliston,” Foreign Minister Engelhard Rubarth grunted. “They won’t want him to blame them for anything.”
Kruger snorted. “Is there anything they can do,” he asked rhetorically, “that will cleanse them of the shame, in his eyes, of being born French?”
Gudrun nodded. Holliston was not likely to show mercy to the French, not when the French had already played a minor role in setting the stage for the uprising. He’d need a foreign enemy to reunite the shattered Reich and the French would make excellent candidates. The German population was already conditioned to look down on them, while their ability to resist a panzer-led invasion was almost non-existent. Invading Vichy France and snuffing out their government would accomplish multiple goals for Holliston. Gudrun had never met him in person, but if what she’d heard was true, the simplicity would appeal to him.
“Then discuss it with them as a matter of urgency,” Schulze said. He looked at Rubarth. “Is there anything new from the rest of the world?”
“The Italians have offered a couple of combat-ready divisions,” Rubarth said. He didn’t sound pleased. “The Turks have, so far, agreed to keep forces from transiting through their territory into Germany Prime, but that may not last.”
“Italians,” Voss said. “Do they want us to lose?”
“The Italian government may not last for much longer anyway,” Rubarth said. “I don’t think we can count on them.”
“Of course not,” Schulze said. “And economically?”
“Still pretty bad,” Kruger said. “But we should be able to keep things fairly stable for the next few weeks. A long drawn-out war will kill us.”
Gudrun nodded. Thousands of factory workers had been called to the colours, while others had founded dozens of new unions and were competing for increased wages, reduced hours and political accountability. Schulze must find it annoying, she suspected; he’d started the union movement, only to see it grow out of control. Cracking down on unions wouldn’t be any easier for the provisional government than it had been for the Reich Council.
“Keep me informed,” Schulze said, addressing Voss. “The rest of us… we carry on.”
“We have no choice,” Kruger said. “The future of the Reich itself is at stake.”
“Yes,” Schulze said. “And that leads to a question. Do we accept the American offer of covert assistance?”
“Out of the question,” Voss said, immediately. “We would save the Reich from Holliston, only to become a suburb of Washington DC. The Americans will demand a high price for their help.”