“No, Mein Fuhrer,” Oliver said, hoping his voice was steady. “The basic systems were developed in America and…”
“And why were German technicians not involved?” Hitler interrupted.
Oliver coughed; Hitler seemed to have a gift for focusing on the… uncomfortable subjects. Still, he knew the slant on history that would most focus Hitler’s mind. “Germany lost the war, Mein Fuhrer,” he said, and the room seemed to fall even quieter. “By the time that German industry had recovered, the French had ensnared it in a web of bureaucracy that strangled German industry; it had become impossible to progress to match the Japanese, let alone the Americans.”
“See the fate that we can avert,” Hitler bellowed, returning to the room. Oliver felt as if the angel of death had passed over him. His voice hardened. “We will avert it, whatever the cost, whatever the burden.”
The room seemed hopeful; their Fuhrer had spoken. Oliver watched them carefully; some believed in Hitler, as if he was a Prophet of some dark god, others were only interested in their own power and positions. “Field Marshall?”
At Hitler’s command, Field Marshall General Kesselring stood up, moving to one side of a podium. An SS guard glared without seeming to glare at the Wehrmacht officer, before moving aside and unfurling the maps and plans. The coast of Britain was marked clearly; the range of British aircraft, old and new, were marked. The Germans knew so little; an interrogation of Captain Sidney Jackson had produced some details on the British defences, but hardly enough to plan a war on. Oliver scowled; the first German assault would get a bloody nose, and then they’d need him and his people more than ever.
“Mein Fuhrer,” Kesselring said. Goring looked insanely delighted to see the General; Oliver wished, not for the first time, that he'd studied the Nazis more than he had. Professor Horton might have been able to tell him, but he’d been left behind in France.
“The enemy is extremely powerful,” Kesselring said flatly. “He is armed with sophisticated missiles and precision weapons that are capable of targeting targets anywhere within the Third Reich. However, they are weak at sea and on the ground; their tanks may well be better than ours – it is logical to assume that they would be so – but they almost certainly don’t have as many of them as we do. In pure numbers, they are only a little stronger than us at sea, with few deployable ships. In effect, we cannot do more than launch air raids at them – although the threat of an invasion will concentrate their minds – and they cannot get at us, although they can bomb us quite severely.”
With the exception of nuclear weapons, Oliver thought, and shuddered. He didn’t expect that the weak Prime Minister the British had would drop the Bomb, but he was mortally certain that there would be some within the British establishment who would be more than happy to do just that. Atomics was another uncomfortable subject.
Kesselring smiled at his audience. “For all their power, they have vulnerabilities,” he said. “One of their aircraft and pilots – and their weapons – takes far longer to build than one of ours. They will require massive imports of food and drink – and they don’t have the navy to escort it. They have suddenly acquired an empire; will they act to defend it?”
He lifted up one sheet on the board and removed it. “We will launch bombing raids against them, trying to draw out the future RAF so it will be forced to fight on our terms,” he said. “We will cancel the plans for the massive battleships and deploy as many submarines as we can against their shipping. Most of all, we will force them to fight on as many fronts as we can, draining their stockpile of modern weapons.
“The combined command therefore urges that we support as best as we can Mussolini’s adventure in Egypt, with special attention being given to taking Malta and Gibraltar, therefore preventing any linkage between the old and new British. Advancing on the Middle East would also deprive them of their supplies of oil; they have to be thinking now about how to secure them for the future.
“We should also warn the Japanese that they have a window of opportunity to start snapping up British possessions in the Far East, threatening Australia.”
He spoke on. “Invasion is probably not a realistic option,” he said, “although, as I said, we should attempt to convince them that we have that in mind. At best, assuming that nothing goes wrong, we can put a maximum of 10’000 men on the shore – and that assumes that they let us do so. However, if they feel forced to watch us, they will not be able to aid the rest of the world.”
Oliver sat back and listened. It was rare to meet a genuinely first-class mind. Of course, it missed out on some of the most important points, but it would buy Germany time. Time was what they needed most of all.
“Do you have an opinion,” Roth asked, after the meeting was finished. Hitler had praised Kesselring, Himmler and even Roth himself after Kesselring’s presentation.
Oliver smiled. “It shows a grasp of strategic thinking that dwarfs mine,” he said. “Only one thought; have people take pictures of dead children after the bombing raid and have them sent to the British reporters, many of whom will demand to come visit.”
“Really,” Roth said, a little doubtfully. He switched to English. “If you say so,” he said. His English was improving. “Why would they want to?”
“Reporters have become a plague on the military since the Vietnam War,” Oliver said. “Never mind where Vietnam is,” he said, noticing Roth’s puzzlement, “the fact is that they’ll be looking for stories and if you treat them well, they will affect public opinion in your favour.”
Not bloody likely, he thought. “Did Professor Horton help with drafting Kesselring’s plan?”
Roth didn’t answer directly. “We need information,” he said. “Books; technical journals, even more of the silver discs.”
“CDs,” Oliver said. “Information on history, and technical developments, I assume?”
“Indeed,” Roth said. “Tell me, is there any way we could slip you back into England?”
“You want me to collect the books?” Oliver asked. He scowled. “The only reasonable way is to offer to repatriate some of the passengers, such as the children, and return me with them.”
Roth lifted an eyebrow. “You think fast,” he said, approvingly. “And say that you all drew straws to see which of the adults would be returned?”
“Yep,” Oliver said. “We can’t return any other adults; they might well know that I agreed to work for you.” He grinned. “You’d be astonished at how many places I’ve smuggled stuff out of, mainly things people don’t want other people to have.”
“A smuggler as well, then,” Roth said. He sounded faintly disapproving. “How much do you think you could smuggle to us?”
“I’m still thinking about that,” Oliver said. “A submarine might be the best bet; they’re still using fishing boats, aren’t they?” Roth shrugged. “It makes sense,” Oliver said. “The fishing will be better than it has been for years. If a u-boat goes to a pre-arranged spot, say two weeks from my return, we can meet up and transfer stuff over.”
Roth nodded. “It seems a workable idea,” he said. “Tell me; what do you think they’ll do with Ireland?”