Andrew nodded, shortly. Riemer was unusual for a German soldier, in that he had close family connections in America. It was probably why he’d been detailed to escort Andrew, even though he was a potential security risk. He’d actually been in America, unlike almost every other officer Andrew had met. And, compared to the humourless SS officers who’d escorted him around before the civil war, he was a decent man.
Which doesn’t mean he won’t be loyal to the Reich, Andrew reminded himself firmly. The younger man was blond enough to have stepped off a recruiting poster, his eyes so blue as to be almost unreal. You cannot take the risk of trying to recruit him as a source.
“We’ve prepared papers for you,” Riemer added, picking up a wallet from the table and holding it out. “Make sure you stick to the cover story if you get caught.”
“Understood,” Andrew said. Posing as a German officer was risky, but being identified as American after being taken prisoner by the SS would be worse. Karl Holliston was unlikely to give much of a damn about American opinion after the United States had already intervened in the conflict. “I take it I don’t have any actual authority?”
Riemer shot him a wry smile. “What do you think?”
Andrew smiled back as Riemer escorted him through the door and down to the underground car park. A small vehicle — it looked so much like a jeep that Andrew was sure someone had stolen the plans from America — was waiting for them, a young soldier in the front seat. He climbed into the back and forced himself to relax as the jeep headed up the ramp and out onto the streets. Berlin seemed almost deserted.
Shortages of fuel, Andrew thought, grimly. Everything they have has been earmarked for the military.
He considered it for a long moment. The Reich had access to the vast oil fields of the Middle East, but the SS was in a good position to block all shipments to Germany Prime. That left the oil fields in Ploesti, yet they were supposed to be on the verge of running dry. It made him wonder just how bad the shortages were, in Germany Prime. The Reich was supposed to have put together a strategic oil reserve that made America’s look small, but he had no idea what had happened to it. By now, the demands of war might be making it run dry.
“You’ll be attached to a forward command post,” Riemer informed him, as they drove past the barricades surrounding Berlin and out into the countryside. “If you want to go further into the field, you may do so — but we cannot guarantee your safety.”
Andrew nodded. He’d seen too much of the fighting before the Waffen-SS had been driven away from the city, but he’d never realised just how much of the outskirts had been reduced to bloody rubble. Men and women — a surprising number of women — were poking their way through the debris, dragging out bodies and dumping them in the nearest mass grave; military engineers were working over the burned-out panzers, looking for pieces that could be salvaged and put back into service. It looked as though hundreds of panzers had been destroyed in the fighting, although Andrew had no way to know for sure.
A dull explosion echoed in the distance. Andrew glanced east and saw a plume of smoke rising into the air. A pair of aircraft headed eastward at terrifying speed, but evidently saw nothing worth attacking. Riemer didn’t even bother to look.
“They’ve been scattering mines and improvised bombs around as they make their way eastward,” he commented. “We’ve got teams out there scouring for booby traps, but they’re very good at hiding them.”
“They probably learned from the insurgents,” Andrew commented. American troops had had problems with IEDs too, in Mexico. “Don’t you have any locals who can help find them?”
Riemer gave him a sharp look. “Most of the locals were evacuated,” he said, crossly. “I wouldn’t give two rusty Reichmarks for the fate of the remainder.”
Andrew frowned. The Provisional Government had been filling the airwaves with tales of SS atrocities, although he had a feeling that most of their claims were being taken with a pinch of salt. German civilians were so used to being lied to — so used to being told lies that made it clear that their lords and masters didn’t have any respect for their intelligence — that they rarely believed anything they heard on the radio. But Andrew had heard enough — from his contacts and sources — to know that there had been atrocities. The Easterners had forgotten that the Westerners were also German.
He kept his thoughts to himself as they passed a line of men, wearing military uniforms and marching east. Andrew couldn’t help thinking that they looked surprisingly old for soldiers, although he knew there were some very long-serving soldiers in the National Guard back home. But then, the Reich was short on experienced manpower. They’d probably started press-ganging men who were too old to be front-line soldiers, but could teach the younger men what they needed to know before they went back to the war.
“They’ve been exchanging bursts of shellfire every so often,” Riemer said, as the sound of falling shells echoed in the air. “They just seem to be firing at random.”
Andrew scowled. German shooting wasn’t as accurate as he’d been led to believe — or so his observations suggested — but he had to admit that the SS could disrupt the Provisional Government’s preparations for war simply by firing shells at random. They might not hit anything important — it was unlikely they would hit anything important — yet they would cause confusion and damage morale. And they might consider anything that slowed down the coming offensive to be worth doing.
If winter comes before the Provisional Government can make it to Moscow, Andrew thought, the front line will literally freeze for five months.
He gritted his teeth as the jeep pulled into a military camp. Ambassador Turtledove had gone over the problem, again and again, with Washington. There was something to be said for prolonging the war — the Reich would be badly weakened — but it still heightened the risk of a nuclear release. Or something else that would upset the balance of power. There were plenty of rumours about other secret weapons…
But most of those rumours are nonsense, he thought. And they certainly haven’t shown any workable hardware.
He smiled at the thought as he clambered out of the car and submitted to a pat-down from the guards. There were plenty of stories about flying wings — and flying saucers — but the Reich had never managed to put them into practice. They’d certainly never managed to duplicate the B2 stealth bomber, even though they’d known it was designed to sneak through the vast air defences of the Atlantic Wall…
The irony chilled Andrew more than he cared to admit. It had taken decades — literally — for the panic over German super-science to die down. And why not? Germany had been first to launch a missile, first to put a man in orbit, first to put a man on the moon…
…But they’d never been able to match the United States. Countless billions of dollars had been spent, first in catching up with the Germans and then getting ahead of them…
And now the Germans are tearing themselves apart, Andrew told himself, as he walked into the tent. And we may have won the cold war without firing a shot.