For a long moment, Rommel howled in pain. The book continued, praising him and warning of Germany’s future, a long period spent under Soviet dominance. It spoke about the holocaust, and about the deaths of thousands of millions of people, all at the command of one man; Fuhrer Adolf Hitler.
“But it didn’t happen that way,” he protested.
“It did the first time around,” a voice said from behind him. Rommel spun around, cursing his lack of awareness; the door had opened and he hadn’t noticed. The man wore a British uniform, but different from the one that the Tommies normally wore. “Field Marshall Erwin Rommel, that was your life.”
Rommel stared at him. “Sorry, bad joke, I know,” the man said. His English was oddly accented; there were hints of American phases and strange concepts. “If you read, you must understand that we are from the future.”
“The rumours said you were,” Rommel said finally, feeling the room spinning again. “I’m not a Field Marshall.”
“You were, in the other universe,” the man said. “Of course, that was before you were offered the choice between suicide and disgrace.”
Rommel sat down hard on the bed; the man took the chair opposite him. “I’m Major Stirling,” the man said, extending a hand. Rommel took it and shook hands. “I’m sorry for the somewhat… abrupt manner of making your acquaintance, sir, but we were running out of time. There is no doubt that Hitler would have ordered you killed, or Himmler would have taken the matter into his own hands. You see, some future information reached the SS, and everyone who would have plotted against Hitler has been removed, removed before they ever had a chance to even begin to plot”
“Why?” Rommel asked. “What happens?”
Stirling shrugged; Rommel had the impression that he was being watched very carefully. “Different reasons for different people,” he said. “Some knew that the war was lost after an entire army group was smashed in Russia, others knew that Germany would be buried under a tidal wave of American production. Some just disliked Hitler, some believed that a peace could be worked out without Hitler – and some knew of the holocaust and how the allies would react. They said ‘enjoy the war, because the peace will be terrible,’ and it was.”
He picked up a book and passed it over. Rommel looked down at the picture and was nearly sick. “Germany is a civilised nation,” he said finally. “We won’t, we don’t…”
Stirling looked sympathetic. “It’s already begun,” he said. “In many ways, its worse than in our time; Poles and Greeks are being enslaved, it’s like the Draka out there. All of them are being pressed into building German production, while your new ally Stalin is exterminating the Poles. General, of all the resistance that won’t be here, you’re the only one we were able to find in time.”
“What happens to us?” Rommel asked finally. He felt a deep despair. “Why did this happen?”
“We don’t know,” Stirling said. “One option, one that is discussed more and more now, is destroying Germany outright.” He shook his head. “Ambassador Ernst Schulze has a few ideas to prevent that; I’ll send him in.”
He left through the door. Rommel watched him go, his mind reeling, staring down at the pictures. The list of names that would become infamous in the future; concentration camps, SS guards and finally the fate of Germany itself.
Ambassador Ernst Schulze hesitated before entering the room. He’d been on the strange airbase before, to visit Hans Meyer, but this was different. Rommel was one of the few Germans from the World War Two era to be well spoken of; one of the few who it was permitted to speak openly about. Everyone knew about the others, but no one discussed them in public.
Rommel looked up as Schulze entered. He seemed younger than his pictures suggested, the ones that had not been taken yet. He was still older than many Wehrmacht officers, still dignified, but his eyes were dim. The Pictures of Hell was open in front of him; the record of what the allied troops had found in 1945.
“Guten Tag,” Schulze said. What did one say to a legend? “How are you this morning?”
Rommel laughed bitterly. “My nation, the great shining women, has committed terrible crimes and I have been a part of those crimes,” he said. “How do you expect me to feel?”
Schulze nodded. “I am the German ambassador to the United Kingdom,” he said. “I wasn’t exactly expecting a trip back in time.”
Rommel snorted. “I wasn’t expecting to be condemned for something I hadn’t done yet,” he said. “Ambassador, what is the point?”
Schulze nodded sadly. “General, there is a chance that everything can be altered,” he said. “Will you help me?”
Rommel shrugged. “To do what?”
Schulze smiled, understanding Rommel’s feelings. “The problem isn’t just defeating Germany, as Major Stirling said the nation can be destroyed, but in building a new and better world. You see, we have an opportunity to ensure that democracy flourishes within Germany earlier, if you will help me.”
Schulze took a breath. “You are the only German of any statue to be still considered a hero,” he said. “If you broadcast to Germany, to convince them to give up the Nazis, they will…”
“Do nothing,” Rommel said. Schulze blinked. “They don’t know about all of this, they don’t know about the horror; they will only know that Hitler has made them powerful again. We can’t talk them into overthrowing the Nazis, we can only defeat them on the field.”
“An army is being prepared,” Schulze said. “The problem is that it’s a British army…”
“And you want me to lead a German army,” Rommel said. He seemed to find the concept amusing. “Ambassador, I have no troops or weapons.”
“They can be provided,” Schulze said. “If we can build a Free German Army, will you command it?”
Rommel tapped the picture book. “I don’t see that I have a choice,” he said. “I want to do more research on the new military capabilities and I want to talk to the British first. I have no interest in building a puppet state.”
Schulze smiled. “Me neither,” he said. “Don’t worry; we’ll build a strong, democratic and independent Germany.”
The RAF base commandant had been more than happy to give up his office for the meeting, but Hanover felt uncomfortable within the room. He knew that it was foolish, but he was uncomfortable. There were such high stakes, and he was balancing too many different items in the air.
He glared down at the text of a Parliamentary Question. Later that day, he was supposed to go in front of the House of Commons and answer the question. He read it again and swore; it was simple and clear. ‘To ask the honourable member if the rumours of the Polish genocide are true and what he intends to do about them?’
Hanover scowled. On his insistence, the RAF had struck at train locomotives and some SS camps in Poland, pushing the RAF to its limits. Unfortunately, short of using nuclear missiles, the Soviet Union was outside his range; the RAF no longer had units based in Germany. Until the new army regiments were ready, and the growing threat from Japan dealt with, there was nothing he could do.
He shook his head and checked his watch. London hadn’t seen a pro-nuclear demonstration – ever – before yesterday and the anti-nuclear protesters were as violent and irrational as ever. The Poles, demanding that Germany and Russia be nuked before all the Poles were exterminated, had clashed badly with the usual crowd of people who were opposed to the use of nukes under any circumstances. Japanese, some of the German residents and even some Russians had joined in the fun, and the riot had taken hours to suppress. The Police had thousands of people in jail under the DORA powers, trying to sort out who’d done what.