She glanced up at him, then giggled as he started trying to feed her. Siegfried made even more rude noises, then quietened down as Kurt glared at him. Gudrun sighed, wondering what his problem was, before deciding it didn’t matter. Siegfried was already far too spoilt simply by being the youngest. Their parents weren’t quite as strict with him as they’d been with their older children.
“Don’t drink too much,” her father advised as he passed her a glass of wine. “You are already very emotional.”
Gudrun nodded. Now the ceremony was over, part of her had doubts. She had – technically – promised to obey Horst… and the law would back him up, if there was a dispute. And yet, she was damned if she was just submitting to him. Even her own mother, however quiet she might be in public, was hardly submissive in private. And yet… she took a sip of the wine, silently grateful that her mother had forbidden her from drinking more than a glass on special occasions. The boys could have their drinking contests, if they wished, but it wasn’t something she cared to allow herself. It was too dangerous.
She ate enough to keep herself going, then watched as her parents escorted her siblings out of the room. If there was one thing to be said for such a simple ceremony, it was that Horst and she were left alone within two hours of the wedding. A more complex ceremony would take far longer…
“Mrs Albrecht,” Horst said, quietly.
Gudrun nodded. She’d already determined that she would use her maiden name for her professional life, but she would be Mrs Albrecht in private. And yet, even acknowledging it made her feel strange. They were together now until one of them died. Divorce was practically unthinkable. If they had children, it would become completely impossible.
Horst rose and held out a hand. “Shall we go?”
“Yes,” Gudrun said. She stood and kissed him, as hard as she could. “Let’s go.”
“I trust you had a few words with Siegfried?”
“Kurt already gave him a lecture,” Herman said, as he stepped into the room he shared with his wife. Adelinde was already sitting on the bed, her blonde hair shining under the harsh electric light. “He’s quite protective of Gudrun.”
“He’ll have to be protective of someone else soon,” Adelinde said, curtly. She sounded annoyed. “And Siegfried needs to grow up.”
“He’s twelve,” Herman reminded her. “It’s going to be a while before he grows into a man.”
“I know,” Adelinde said. “But he’s too old not to know when he’s being rude.”
Herman nodded. His youngest son had always been a handful. Herman had had less time for him, while Johan had been four years older than Siegfried and Kurt had been in military training, depriving Siegfried of a true playmate or someone to look up to. And Gudrun had been a girl…
He sighed as he sat down next to his wife. He’d given his daughter away to a man she’d chosen, surrendering her to another man. It felt wrong, even though he’d known that Gudrun would eventually move out from the moment she was born. His daughter was no longer his little girl, but a grown woman. Their relationship would never be the same.
And if Horst tries to boss her around, he thought, I’ll…
He smiled in genuine wonderment. It was odd, but Gudrun – perhaps – was the only one of his children who really took after him. If Horst tried to boss her around, or beat her, Herman was sure he’d regret it very quickly – if he survived. Gudrun had brought down a government! A single man wouldn’t present a real problem…
Adelinde gave him a sharp look. “What’s so funny?”
“Gudrun is very like me,” Herman said. “And that’s odd.”
“Hah,” Adelinde said. She stuck out her tongue. “I’ve been trying to tell you that for a very long time.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Berlin, Germany Prime
20 October 1985
“The reports are clear, Mein Fuhrer,” Alfred said. “I just heard back from the scouts.”
He paused. Bad news was rarely welcomed by his superiors. “The traitors are massing to the west,” he added. “They should be ready to move within the week, perhaps ten days at the most.”
“So it would seem,” Karl Holliston said. The Fuhrer sounded oddly calm, something that worried Alfred more than he cared to admit. “What are they trying to do?”
Alfred turned to look at the map his staff had pinned to the wall. “Depending on the timing, Mein Fuhrer, they either intend to punch open a relief corridor to Berlin or trap our forces against the city,” he said. “It was what the Russians intended to do in Stalingrad.”
“The Untermenschen failed,” Holliston snapped.
“Yes, Mein Führer, but we are not facing Untermenschen,” Alfred said. “The traitors have successfully rallied a large percentage of fighting men to their banner.”
He took a breath. “I would like permission to lift the siege and withdraw from the city,” he added, carefully. Holliston was not going to take this calmly. “I do not believe we can break into the city without taking hideous losses.”
“Out of the question,” Holliston snapped. “To lose Berlin – again – would be disastrous.”
Alfred braced himself. “The situation is grim,” he said. “We have lost thousands of men in the battle and we will lose thousands more if we push onwards. I believe we can take Berlin, but then we will lose it again when the traitor relief formations arrive. Our logistics network is shot to hell and far too many of our units have been chewed up. We need time to put our forces back on a secure footing.”
He cursed under his breath. No one had ever anticipated a civil war. Even the disagreements in 1950, after Hitler’s death, hadn’t threatened all-out war. Naturally, very few precautions had been taken to prepare for such a war. The Waffen-SS was in the odd position of being an elite force that didn’t have as much of the latest equipment as it would have preferred. Many of the vehicles it deployed in Germany East wouldn’t have lasted more than a minute on a modern battlefield, not against the massed power of the Heer. They needed to trade space for time, time to get production started, time to learn from the battles they’d already fought…
“Time is the one thing we do not have,” Holliston said. “If they force us away from Berlin, we risk losing everything.”
“We may lose everything if we stay in position,” Alfred said. “Mein Fuhrer, our ability to handle the coming storm is very limited. And staying in one place will only pin us down…”
“There are plans afoot to strike at the very heart of their power,” Holliston said. “That will distract them, will it not?”
Alfred took a moment to calm himself. The Reichstag should never have been left untouched. His gunners could have pulverised the building and the surrounding area, destroying – or at least crippling – the traitor government. It would have proved, beyond all doubt, that the government couldn’t even protect itself. And yet, Karl Holliston had flatly refused to allow the gunners to shell the Reichstag. He’d made it clear, very clear, that the entire region was to be left strictly alone. Even his spiteful destruction of the Ministry of Economics had been made after some soul-searching.