It wasn’t a pleasant thought. Travel within Germany East was tightly controlled — it was why he’d gone to so much trouble to forge their papers — but he doubted Holliston could spare many men for internal security. People concerned about radioactivity — or even the rebel advance — would flee their settlements, heading east. And many of them would be armed, presenting a whole new problem for any guards who tried to stop them. How long would the SS stormtroopers remain popular in Germany East if they started shooting refugees?
And it might trigger a civil war within the civil war, he thought. And there will be nothing left but chaos.
The conversation around the dinner table was gloomy, even though the meal was excellent and the beer superb. Horst listened as more and more exaggerated stories of radiation poisoning were told, ranging from everyone infected dying within seconds to long-term suffering that could only be ended by a mercy kill. He couldn’t help wondering just what would happen, if such a staunchly loyal settlement was terrified of the future. And what they would do if they found out the truth.
If it is the truth, Horst reminded himself. You don’t know what really happened, not yet.
“We’ll continue on our way in the morning,” he said, after dinner finally came to an end. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to rest now.”
“Of course,” the old man said. “I have a bedroom ready for you.”
You mean you asked one of the girls to make the beds up for us, Horst thought, rather sardonically. Women couldn’t escape doing most of the household chores, not even in Germany East. I wonder if one of the girls will try to crawl into Kurt’s bed again.
“Thank you,” he said, out loud. “We appreciate it.”
Kurt wasn’t sure if he should be disappointed or relieved that, apart from a handful of flirtatious looks when their parents weren’t watching, the girls made no move to invite him into their beds. He knew, intellectually, that he’d done the right thing when he’d declined Heidi’s offer, but his body was reminding him that it had been a very long time since he’d slept with a girl. It was silly, yet part of him wanted to turn around and head back to Heidi’s farm. But he knew it was impossible.
The bed was warm, but he felt cold as he contemplated the news. He couldn’t discuss it with Horst — the room might well be bugged — yet he was sure that his side wouldn’t have nuked an entire city. Destroying Warsaw would be nothing more than pointless spite — no, it would be worse, more like cutting off his nose to spite his face. The Heer needed control of Warsaw, not a ruined city and a destroyed reputation. He simply couldn’t imagine anyone in Berlin issuing such an order.
He shivered, helplessly. The tactical devices had to have been used to stop the advance in its tracks — how many of his friends and former comrades were dead? He had no doubt that the Berlin Guard would have formed part of the spearhead, after its valiant service in the defence of Germany Prime. No one could argue that they were just play-soldiers after they’d bled the SS during the retreat to Berlin. And it would have gotten them killed…
…It would have gotten him killed, if he’d been there.
And father said he was going back to the war, Kurt remembered, suddenly. What happened to him?
The thought was truly horrific. His father had been strict, but fair. Kurt knew boys who had feared their fathers, boys who had dreaded going home each day, yet he’d never believed his father was a monster. He respected as well as loved the older man. It could have been a great deal worse, for him and his brothers — and his sister. No one would have said anything if Gudrun had been married off at sixteen, rather than being allowed to follow her dream…
…And his father might be dead. The man who had sired him, the man who had raised him, the man who had encouraged him and disciplined him… his father might be dead. How could there be a world without his father? He couldn’t imagine it.
Kurt shifted his head to glare at Horst, snoring loudly as he slept. How could he sleep so soundly after the news? But his anger was mingled with envy, because he knew there was nothing either of them could do. Even if they turned around and drove straight back to the front lines, what could they do? What could they possibly hope to accomplish?
All we can do is carry on, Kurt told himself. He knew, all too well, that they were operating on a wing and a prayer. The slightest mistake, in the wrong place, could get them both killed — or worse. And hope to hell we can make a difference when we finally arrive.
Chapter Twenty-One
Front Lines, Germany Prime
4 November 1985
The suit — American-designed, of course — was hot, heavy and thoroughly uncomfortable, but Volker knew better than to take it off. His Geiger counter was ticking menacingly, warning him that there was a dangerous level of radiation in the air. The American technicians who had helped him and his staff to assemble the suit had warned him not to stay in the danger zone for too long, but Volker had largely ignored them. He owed it to his conscience to take some risks.
He’d seen horror. He’d thought he’d seen horror. But this was worse than anything he’d ever seen, even in his worst imaginations. The landscape had been utterly devastated; countless trees burned to ash, the remnants of humanity’s presence utterly swept away by the blast. He turned slowly, feeling his skin crawl as the counter ticked louder. The winds were blowing to the south, thankfully, but he could still feel the radiation touching his skin, no matter how hard he tried to tell himself that he was imagining it. He knew he was imagining it…
…But he didn’t believe it.
A lone panzer was positioned nearby, two more lying on their sides; the blast had picked them up and tossed them over as casually as a man might pick up and toss a pebble. He’d been warned not to go near them, even though they were probably salvageable. The vehicles themselves had survived, but their armour would have trapped the radiation and ensured that the crews died quickly. Or something. He wasn’t sure he understood the explanation, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he didn’t go near the vehicles.
He turned, peering east. Flames and smoke were rising up from the direction of Warsaw, reminding him that an entire city had been far too close to the blasts. The flash of superheated air had set fire to everything flammable, according to the recon flights; everyone caught in the open had been burned, blinded or simply killed by the blast wave. And then there was the fallout… Warsaw might survive, once the flames burned themselves out, but countless innocent civilians were doomed to long lingering deaths. It was no surprise that utter anarchy had gripped the city.
Holliston was willing to sacrifice Warsaw just to stop our offensive, Volker thought. He was too tired to feel anything beyond numb horror. Why didn’t we see it coming?