A whistle blew. It was time to go.
“I’m coming too,” Kurt said, as they walked back towards the plane. “I’ll see you on the far side.”
Herman flinched. It was uncommon for fathers and sons to serve together — hell, it was rare for brothers to serve together — and there were good reasons for it. But the whole operation had been thrown together in a tearing hurry anyway. Reading between the lines, Herman had a nasty feeling the entire force had been deemed expendable if all hell broke loose. It might explain why his superiors had authorised him — and the other older men — to join the mission.
“Very well,” he said, finally. There was no way he could say no. Kurt was a man now — he’d been a man since he’d joined the Berlin Guard — and was no longer subject to his father’s edicts. And really, what sort of man would Kurt have become if he still allowed his father to rule his life. “Just make sure you survive or I’ll kill you personally.”
Kurt shot him a deadpan look. “I’ll try my best.”
Herman smiled as they climbed into the aircraft. He was proud of Kurt. He was proud of all his children. And Gudrun… he shook his head, torn between a multitude of feelings. She might have been a girl, but she’d changed the entire world. He was proud of her, more proud than he could ever say, yet he was also fearful for her life. Gudrun meant more to him, in some ways, than any of his sons. He’d always tried to protect her more than anyone else…
…And how much of that, he asked himself, was because she was my daughter?
He mulled it over, covering his ears as the aircraft engines came to life. He’d always seen his sons as needing to learn some lessons on their own, even if those lessons came with a price. Their bumps and bruises would teach harder lessons than his words. But he’d always been protective of his daughter. In an ideal world, she would have been safe for the rest of her life.
But it wasn’t what she wanted, he thought. The aircraft lurched into the sky, shaking backwards and forwards as it grabbed for air. And I may have been wrong.
He was honest enough to admit that he might have been wrong, despite his fears. If he’d forbidden her from going to the university, he could have made it stick. Gudrun was in his charge until she married. But she wouldn’t have been happy, he saw now. She would have seen him as a monster, even though he would only have her best interests at heart. And she might have been right.
The world is changing, he reminded himself. All the stories young children read featured women as housewives or mothers or sisters. Young girls just didn’t have adventures. But Gudrun had written a whole new story, changing the entire world. And I no longer belong.
“Herr Oberstgruppenführer?”
Alfred turned. It had been a tense night, ever since Forster had warned him that the attack was due to begin the following morning. The prospect of being caught had never been so high. And yet, part of him was almost relieved. Hurry up and wait had been a part of military life ever since the first caveman had bashed his enemy’s head in with a rock. The prospect of action, no matter how risky, was always to be welcomed.
“Yes?”
“Herr Oberstgruppenführer, radar has detected a flight of aircraft moving towards Germanica,” the operator said. “Their IFF signals don’t match anything in our records.”
“They’re holding a drill,” Alfred said. “The Führer wants you to track them carefully, but take no action.”
The operator saluted, hastily. Alfred allowed himself a tight smile as the younger man turned away. A smart operator would have questioned allowing a dozen heavy aircraft to fly over the city, particularly now the nuclear genie had been let out of the bottle, but Karl Holliston had ensured that no one wanted to ask questions. He’d purged several senior officers in the last two days for questioning some of his more… extreme… orders. And so the aircraft would fly over Germanica with no one doing anything to stop them.
Not that we can, he thought, sourly. The city’s antiaircraft defences had been formidable, but half the weapons had been stripped out and sent to the front. And they’d been of very limited value in a war zone. As long as the pilots are lucky, they’ll get in without a fight.
“Outboard personnel, stand up,” the jumpmaster barked. “We’re crossing the city limits now.”
Herman stood, feeling his heart starting to race as the jumpmaster ordered them through the entire routine. They’d studied the city extensively, during the flight, but a single misstep could put them several miles from their target. The skies were clear, according to the pilot, yet that would change very quickly. Surely, someone would notice that a dozen giant aircraft hadn’t been cleared to fly over the city…
But their radar system is a mess, Herman thought. He checked his equipment for the final time. And they’re not ready for us.
“Go,” the jumpmaster barked.
One by one, the paratroopers made their way to the hatch and plunged down towards the streets below.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Germanica, Germany East
16 November 1985
“Go,” Horst snapped.
Panic was already spreading through the streets as the squadron of heavy aircraft roared overhead, paratroopers spilling from their hatches and plunging downwards. Horst knew that Kurt would be amongst them, but he didn’t have time to worry about his brother-in-law as he led his squad towards the Reichstag. Dressed in SS uniforms, carrying papers that marked them out as Einsatzgruppen, no one should bat an eyelid as they passed, not when the skies were darkening with paratroopers. A loud explosion echoed over the city as one of the radio transmitters blew, taken out by a Volkssturm team. They’d probably wanted some revenge for all the sneering they had to endure from the SS.
Armed soldiers were running to the Reichstag from all directions, some trying to take up positions on the barricades while others were hurrying towards the gates. Horst joined the latter, knowing that the guards would wave them through in silent contempt. Hardly anyone liked the Einsatzgruppen, save for Holliston and his cronies. The Waffen-SS saw them as cowards who only shot unarmed people; the bureaucrats and intelligence officials saw them as butchers who made it harder to exploit conquered populations. They’d be beneath suspicion.
The gates were rattling closed as they approached, but they managed to get through into the antechamber before it was too late. He heard shooting outside — the first wave of paratroopers would have landed already — but it was dulled as the secondary gates slammed shut. The Reichstag was a fortress, to all intents and purposes. It would be some time before the paratroopers managed to get into the building and by then everything would be finished, one way or the other.
An officer was barking orders, trying to organise fallback defensive positions for when — if — the gates were breached. Horst lifted his rifle and shot him, his squad opening fire a second later, sweeping the antechamber with bullets. Men fell in all directions, too shocked to return fire; Horst checked the nearest man, then led the way up the stairs. There was no point in trying to be stealthy, not now. They had to get to the Führer’s office before it was too late.