“If the soldiers agree to fire,” the Ambassador noted.
Andrew shrugged. “The Waffen-SS will definitely fire,” he said. “Obedience and loyalty to appointed authority has always been one of their strengths. And… they’re like the marines, in some ways: a self-selected elite that considers themselves a cut above the rest.”
“As a retired marine,” Turtledove said stiffly, “I find that comparison highly insulting.”
“The principle is the same,” Andrew said, unfazed. He’d done his military service in the Rangers, before transferring to OSS. The lure of being like James Bond had drawn him into intelligence work, although supervillains and hot girls seemed to be remarkably thin on the ground. “The Reich has worked hard to ensure that the Waffen-SS owes loyalty to the Reich, to the concept of the SS, rather than to the German population. It doesn’t help that most of their eastern recruits see the westerners as…”
Turtledove smirked. “Cappuccino-sipping liberals?”
“More or less,” Andrew said. “The real problem, sir, is what happens after the protest movements are crushed?”
The Ambassador sighed. “That’s what Washington wants to know,” he said. “And it’s a question I can’t answer.”
“There are three possibilities,” Andrew said. He’d given the matter some thought while waiting in the prison cell. “First, the Reich goes back to normal. Second, there is a prolonged period of instability that will weaken the Reich over the long run. Third, outright civil war breaks out.”
“And the Reich has nuclear weapons,” the Ambassador said. “Do you think they’d start something with us, just to divert their people from the current crisis?”
Andrew frowned. He hadn’t considered that possibility.
“They’d need to provoke a bigger crisis than the Falklands War,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “One they could use to appeal to their own people. A shooting incident between the Brits and Germans? Something they could cool down if necessary. The real danger would be accidentally ending up with a full-scale war.”
He scowled, remembering a handful of war games he’d been required to observe during his last stint in Washington. There were too many questions over just how many advanced jet fighters, missiles and nuclear-powered submarines the Reich actually possessed, but it was generally agreed that the Germans could give the British a very hard time if they launched a major airborne offensive into British airspace, while using the Kriegsmarine to prevent reinforcements from the United States and Canada. And yet, could they do more? There were so many British and American troops in Britain itself that outright invasion might well be impossible.
But then, the same is true for us, he thought. Invading France would be one hell of a bloodbath.
The war games had suggested, even with both sides refraining from using nuclear weapons, that the war would be long, perhaps even terminating in a stalemate. Invading France would be costly, advancing through Iran into Germany Arabia marginally less so… it could be years before either side scored a decisive victory. And there were no silver bullets, no way to speed up the process. The United States and Britain would have to gird themselves for a fight that would make the last major war look like a minor spat.
“They’d have to be insane to provoke us,” the Ambassador noted. “They need shipments of computer tech from the United States.”
“They’re not exactly sane,” Andrew said. He knew too much about the Reich’s crimes to have any doubt about the nature of the beast. The Jews weren’t the only people marched into the concentration camps and gassed to death. Germany was a prison camp above ground and a mass grave below. “They may even feel that they can win a nuclear war.”
The ambassador shook his head in disbelief. Andrew understood. A nuclear exchange would devastate both sides, even with the ABM system. He doubted the Reich could survive after losing its cities, military bases and transit links to American nukes. God knew the enslaved populations would see a chance for freedom and take it, lashing out at what remained of the Reich. But the SS truly believed they were the Herrenvolk, the Master Race. They might feel they could survive a nuclear war and rebuild from the ashes.
“Washington would like to know if there’s anything we can do,” the Ambassador said. “Is there anything?”
Andrew frowned. Of all the personnel stationed in the embassy, he had the most contact with ordinary Germans. But even he didn’t know precisely what was going on in the Reich. The Germans themselves didn’t know.
“I don’t think so,” he said, finally. “We don’t know precisely who’s behind the protest movement, so we don’t know who to contact. And if we were caught speaking to the leadership, the Reich would have every right to declare us Persona Non Grata and toss us out of the country. They’d play the incident for all it was worth, sir. I think the only thing we can reasonably do is watch from a safe distance.”
Turtledove snorted. “Is there such a thing?”
“Maybe not, sir,” Andrew said. “But better the Reich remains concentrated on its own internal problems than looking at us and contemplating war.”
“There are some in Washington who’ll want to use this opportunity to put the boot in and end the cold war,” Turtledove said. He finished his coffee and placed the cup on the table. “Of course, they might just replace the cold war with a hot war.”
Andrew nodded. The Reich’s leadership had to be getting desperate, if they were prepared to make concessions rather than send in the Waffen-SS to bust some heads. They’d see the prospect of a war with America as a relief, perhaps. God knew they’d spent the last forty years preparing their population for one final war against the capitalist Jew-ridden pigs in the United States.
“Write a full report and include any suggestions you might have,” the Ambassador ordered, as Andrew finished his own coffee. “And make sure they know just how dangerous the situation is becoming. We don’t want to stumble into a war because some back-seat driver in Washington thinks he knows better than us.”
“Yes, sir,” Andrew said. There might be a way to help the growing protest movement, but the Germans would turn against it if they believed that outsiders were helping the protesters. Hell, the Reich might see fit to portray them as American stooges. “Has the Reich said anything formally?”
“Not to us,” the Ambassador said. He didn’t sound surprised. The German Foreign Ministry talked to the Americans as little as possible. “I suspect they don’t want us to know just how bad things are becoming.”
Andrew nodded. “They’re likely to get worse,” he said. “I don’t see the regime just surrendering its grip on power. They’re not Americans. There aren’t regular elections with peaceful winners and losers. The Reich is a party-dominated dictatorship.”