He studied Holliston through impassive eyes. The Führer wore a simple infantryman’s uniform with a single Iron Cross — Adolf Hitler had worn the same outfit — and he’d cut his hair to resemble the former Führer in his prime. And yet, it was easy to see that Holliston was deeply worried. The Führer was good at hiding his emotions, but there were enough signs for Alfred to be sure he was worried. Holliston would definitely need a scapegoat…
…But my subordinates will be safe, Alfred thought. He certainly hoped that would be the case. The Reich had lost too many good men to go around executing people merely because they’d been too close to the designated scapegoat. And we are already pulling the formations back together.
He sighed, inwardly. Tactical defeats were one thing — and the Waffen-SS had suffered tactical defeats, no matter what the Ministry of Information said — but the Reich had never suffered such a catastrophic setback in its entire history. Even the first Battle of Moscow hadn’t been so shocking. He’d had to look as far back as 1918 to see a comparable defeat — and that had resulted in the end of the Second Reich.
“Herr Oberstgruppenführer,” Holliston said. His voice was very cold. “Is it true that you ordered the retreat from Berlin.”
“Yes, Mein Führer,” Alfred said. There was no point in trying to lie. He knew the rules. His guilt had to be firmly established to make it clear that he was more than just a scapegoat for his superior. And if he played his role, his family would be safe. “I saw no choice.”
“Indeed,” Holliston said.
There was a long chilling pause. “You did the right thing, Herr Oberstgruppenführer,” Holliston added. “The Reich owes you a great debt.”
Alfred felt his expression crack, just for a second. He wasn’t going to be turned into a scapegoat? Holliston approved of his decision? And yet… cold ice ran down his spine as he realised it wasn’t anything of the sort. The Waffen-SS wasn’t led by incompetent fools. It wouldn’t be hard for one of Alfred’s former subordinates to put two and two together and realise that the real blame lay with Holliston. The rivalry between the Waffen-SS and the rest of the SS would only make it worse. And who knew what would happen then?
“You will continue to hold your position, charged with organising the defence of Germany East in the short term and the reconquest of Germany Prime in the coming year,” Holliston continued. “In your opinion, what is the current situation?”
Alfred had to fight the urge to giggle. Reconquer Germany Prime? Right now, he honestly wasn’t sure they could defend Germany East. Four entire divisions had been shattered in the Battle of Berlin, their panzers destroyed, their supplies expended… Germany East had vast stockpiles of war material, but it didn’t produce much for itself. Replacing everything that had been lost in the fighting would take years. Hell, merely reorganising the survivors into new units would take far too long.
He took a moment to organise his thoughts. “The last set of updates I saw, Mein Führer, had lines being formed west of Warsaw,” he said. “Stragglers are being rounded up and funnelled into makeshift units” — thankfully, the Waffen-SS had a great deal of experience in throwing together scratch battlegroups at a moment’s notice — “while we are massing the remainder of our panzers and aircraft well behind the front lines. Small teams of dedicated commandos have been assigned to impede the enemy, directly and indirectly. As you are aware, experienced teams can cause considerable delay.”
As the enemy showed us during the march to Berlin, he thought, grimly. And blowing up bridges will make it harder for us to take the offensive too.
“Very good,” Holliston said. “And our chances of defending Germany East?”
Alfred knew the right answer. “Very good, Mein Führer.”
Gauleiter Staff Innsbruck cleared his throat, loudly. “Herr Oberstgruppenführer,” he said, carefully. “Is it not true that we have lost vast quantities of materiel as well as men?”
“It is,” Alfred confirmed. He’d met Innsbruck before; indeed, he was mildly surprised Innsbruck had survived Holliston’s assumption of power. The man didn’t owe his success to the new Führer. “However, there are several factors working in our favour.”
Innsbruck lifted his eyebrows. “Indeed?”
“Yes, Herr Gauleiter,” Alfred said.
He ticked off points on his fingers as he spoke. “First, the enemy is likely just as disorganised as ourselves,” he said. “Their thrusts eastwards are already weakening as they outrun their logistics. They will need time to reorganise before taking the offensive.
“Second, the distance between Berlin and Germanica is quite considerable,” he added. “If they wish to crush us, they will have to thrust eastwards… and do it at a time when winter is coming and the roads swiftly become impassable. Our contingency plans for the defence of Germany East will only make matters worse, for them. By the time they muster the force to launch an invasion of their own, perhaps in spring, we will have our forces solidly in place and ready to stop them.”
“But that would require a massive commitment,” Innsbruck said. “We would need to conscript more and more young men from the farms.”
Alfred nodded, unsure where Innsbruck was going.
Innsbruck turned back to Holliston. “Mein Führer, we must discuss peace.”
Holliston’s face darkened. “Peace? There can be no compromise with traitors!”
“Two-thirds of the young men in my district have already been called up,” Innsbruck said, sharply. “Garrison levels have already fallen dangerously low in some places — and winter is coming, winter… when bandit attacks are typically on the rise. My people have already faced a number of raids that came far too close to success. How long can we sustain this commitment without losing Germany East completely?”
Alfred winced. Forty years of occupation hadn’t been enough to exterminate the bandits, not the ones stubborn enough to hold on and fight back whenever they saw an opportunity. Most towns and villages in Germany East were practically garrisons, military bases in a sea of Untermenschen insurgents and bandits. And he had no doubt that the Untermenschen slaves would revolt, if given the opportunity. They were worked to death by their owners. The only thing keeping them under control was the certain knowledge that resistance was futile.
And it might not be futile now, he thought. We don’t have the manpower to keep them in check any longer.
Holliston made a visible effort to control his anger. “The traitors believe they won the war,” he said, sharply. “Do you think they would agree to any terms we might accept?”
And if they did, Alfred asked himself, how long would it be before they crushed us anyway.
He sighed, inwardly. Germany Prime had nearly seventy percent of the Reich’s industrial base, even though it had been decaying for years. Given a couple of years of peace, the traitors could simply out-produce the loyalists and resume the war when it suited them. And ideas from the west would be slipping east all the time… the ideals of the Reich would come under threat.