“We have to take Berlin,” Holliston said. “How soon can you launch the attack?”
Alfred took a moment to think, but in truth he already knew the answer. “Four days, perhaps five,” he said. “We can weaken them through shelling and air attacks while building up our forces. Right now, we just don’t have the reserves to take advantage of any chink in their defences.”
“Understood,” Holliston said. “But no more than five days.”
“Jawohl, Mein Fuhrer,” Alfred said. That was surprisingly accommodating. He’d expected to have to launch the offensive in two days, despite the risks. “It shall be done.”
He heard the click on the other end of the line, then sighed. They could weaken the enemy, but nothing short of a nuke – perhaps more – would be enough to allow them to walk into Berlin without a fight. And that was off the table. He had no idea if any nukes were usable – yet – but destroying Berlin would shock the entire Reich. Holliston might be on the verge of going mad, yet he wasn’t insane.
Yet, his own thoughts pointed out. What will you do if he does nuke Berlin?
But there was no answer. What could he do?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Berlin, Germany Prime
29 September 1985
Undisciplined wretches, Hauptsturmfuehrer Katharine Milch thought, as she strode along under cover of darkness. You should all be cleared off the streets.
It was annoying, she had to admit, even if it was helpful. The tidal wave of refugees heading into Berlin – as if they thought there was some kind of safety in the city – made it easier for her and her team to operate without being detected. And they would consume more and more food, forcing the traitors to decide between stamping down hard on refugees or allowing themselves to be starved into submission quicker than they’d planned. But it was annoying, a sign of the wishful thinking and soppy sentimentality that had plagued the west since the death of Adolf Hitler. A true government would have taken steps to remove the refugees before it was too late.
She clung to the shadows, keeping her distance from the refugees as she led her team towards the target. There were a couple of policemen in view, both of whom looked cold and nervous. Several policemen had been killed on the streets over the last few days and, so far, no one had tracked down their killers. Katharine had killed two personally, she knew; the remainder had either fallen to her team or had been picked off by criminals or people with private scores to settle. The Order Police had never been popular and, now the Reich had been badly weakened, the fear was gone.
Should have cracked down hard, Katharine thought, nastily. And then put the refugees to work.
The thought made her smile as she skirted yet another clump of refugees. In the east, people who had been forced to flee their homes – like she had, when she’d been seven – were put to work at once, earning their keep. She still shuddered at the thought of cooking, cleaning and washing for her adopted family, even though they’d been very kind to the orphaned girl. And they’d even sponsored her when she applied to the SS, even though only a handful of women were ever accepted for training. They’d known she wanted revenge on those who had killed her family. But the traitorous government didn’t seem inclined to force the refugees to work.
They could hew wood, draw water and build barricades, if nothing else, she thought, glancing into one of the makeshift tents. And the girls could help move weapons and supplies to the men.
She allowed no trace of her feelings to show on her face as their target finally came into view. A warehouse, protected by four armed policemen and a single armoured car. They must have taken it out of storage, she decided; the thin-skinned vehicle wouldn’t last a second on a modern battlefield, even if pitted against a Panzer III from the war. And yet, it was more than intimidating enough for a bunch of unarmed refugees. Katharine couldn’t help wondering if its machine guns were actually loaded, although she wouldn’t assume that was the case until the vehicle refused to engage the attackers. The defenders protecting the edge of the city wouldn’t be keen on releasing ammunition to the guards inside the city.
Keeping her footsteps even, she strode past the warehouse, covertly circling the building and checking to ensure there were no other guards hiding in the shadows. There were no other entrances, save for the big doors at the front; health and safety had never been a particular concern of the Reich, certainly when the workers had been Untermenschen. She smiled at their conceit, then used hand signals to tell her team what to do. And then she walked forward, right towards the policemen.
They reacted with surprising speed, the moment she made a beeline towards them, lifting their weapons into firing position. But it was already too late. Katherine yanked up her machine pistol and opened fire, gunning all four of the policemen down, while one of her men hurled a grenade under the armoured car. It exploded into a fireball, the heat scorching Katherine’s face as she hurried towards the doors. The grenade was designed to take out tougher vehicles than a single outdated armoured car.
The doors crashed open, revealing a colossal stockpile of everything from ration packets to industrial equipment. Katherine puzzled over it for a long moment, then decided that the traitors must have stripped food supplies and anything else that might be useful from the towns and satellite cities surrounding Berlin. It wasn’t a bad move either, she had to admit, but it was going to cost them She was tempted to call for the refugees, to offer them the chance to loot the warehouse, yet she knew the traitors would probably arrive in time to keep the refugees from stealing everything. They’d have reinforcements already on the way.
“Burn it,” she ordered.
She unhooked the grenade from her belt and hurled it into the warehouse. It detonated seconds later, sending out a wave of fire that ignited everything it touched. The SS had designed the grenades to burn Slavic hovels to the ground, tiny huts built of wood, mud and makeshift brick. They were tougher than they looked, according to her instructors, but the same couldn’t be said of the warehouse’s contents. The flames were spreading faster and faster, burning everything to a crisp.
“Time to go,” she said.
She turned and led the way back along the streets, hearing the sound of approaching cars. It was tempting to set up an ambush, to engage the policemen as they approached, but she had a feeling that it would prove pointless. She had only four men under her command, apart from the handful of SS operatives; she didn’t dare risk losing even one of them if it could be avoided. Besides, there would be soldiers on the way too. Her men were good, but they would be massively outnumbered.
The police cars roared past, followed by a pair of red fire engines. Someone had seen the blaze then, she noted; she wondered, absently, just who had managed to call in a report so quickly. Unless they’d anticipated an attack on the warehouse… but surely, if they had, they would have made sure the building was actually secure. Clearing the nearby buildings and setting up a line of checkpoints would have made her job much harder.