“It’s also a chance to commit suicide,” Andrew said, tartly. “Are you willing to bet thousands of American lives that the ABM system will do a perfect job?”
He tapped the table firmly. “There’s also the minor problem that the Reich’s population is reflexively anti-American,” he said. “If we send in the Marines to help stabilise and secure Germany Prime, the bad guys will gain one hell of a propaganda advantage.”
“We’d be coming to help,” Knox objected.
“They wouldn’t see it that way,” Andrew warned. “They are an intensely patriotic people, General. How pleased would our population be if they saw German troops coming up Main Street and parking their tanks in Central Park?”
He looked at the ambassador. “There are ways, sir, to support the provisional government,” he added. “We can make offers of economic assistance, loans and suchlike… we can even offer covert military support, if they need it. But overt support is likely to blow up in our face. We might accidentally kill the people we want to help.”
“Not everyone in Washington will agree,” the Ambassador said. “The chance to get rid of the Reich, once and for all…”
He cleared his throat. “For the moment, we will continue to monitor the situation, attempt to develop ties with the provisional government and report to Washington. I’m sure the Pentagon has contingency plans for the Germans causing trouble in hopes of diverting their own people from their woes.”
Andrew shrugged. Germany Prime and Germany East had been drawing apart for decades, although the Nazi Party had been desperately papering over the cracks. It was quite possible that the Reich would split into two entities, although that would raise the issue of just what would happen to Germany Arabia and Germany South. The latter might not last long, not once South Africa went under, but the former was relatively secure after the native population had been largely exterminated and the handful of survivors enslaved.
“I don’t think they’d try now,” he said, finally. “The crisis facing the Reich has gone far beyond anything a manufactured confrontation with us can settle.”
“Let us hope you’re right,” Turtledove said. “And let us hope that the Germans are actually sane.”
“If the last report is to be believed, the SS has secured every military base in Germany East,” Voss said. “We don’t know what happened to the personnel, but I suspect most of them have either agreed to fight for the SS or gone straight into the camps.”
Volker nodded, curtly. The SS was popular in Germany East, after all; soldiers and airmen stationed there for a few years would certainly come to respect the SS, even if they didn’t like the men in black. And it wouldn’t make any difference if they refused, he suspected; they’d simply be arrested and put to one side while the SS prepared an offensive into Germany Prime.
“We have the beginnings of a defence forming down the Gdansk-Warsaw-Lubin line,” Voss added, “but it isn’t very solid and won’t be until we get more armoured units and aircraft into the region. Thankfully, they won’t be prepared for war either. They’ll be doing their best to change that as quickly as possible.”
“They’ll want to launch an offensive before the winter,” Volker agreed. Campaigning in winter was difficult, to say the least. But then, the SS had plenty of experience fighting in the harsh Russian winters. The horror stories of frozen weapons, useless clothing and frostbite he’d heard as a young trooper were in the past. “They certainly won’t want to give us time to reboot the economy.”
“Probably not,” Voss agreed. “I have a number of contingency plans for your attention.”
Volker sighed, inwardly. Voss was a hard-charging man, a loyal soldier… and Volker wasn’t entirely sure he trusted the man. He smiled too much, too brightly. But he was popular with the troops, genuinely respected even by men who didn’t like him. Removing him would certainly cause the troops to lose faith in the provisional government… if, of course, they’d had any in the first place. They’d known where they stood with the Reich Council. The provisional government was a whole different kettle of fish.
I can keep an eye on Voss, he told himself, as he turned his attention to the plans. And hope he wants nothing more than to command our forces in war.
“I saw Kurt at dinner,” Horst said, as he stepped into Gudrun’s office. “He was sitting with Hilde, chatting.”
Gudrun smiled at him. “Kurt and Hilde?”
“They’re an odd couple,” Horst agreed. Hilde was aristocracy, insofar as the term had any meaning in the Reich; her father, like so many others, had agreed to continue to work for the provisional government. “But maybe they’ll be good for one another.”
He smiled. It would be the young, he was sure, who would take the greatest steps in overthrowing the old rules. Kurt and Hilde would never have been allowed to marry in the old world, even if he managed to get her pregnant. Her formidable mother would have destroyed Kurt, while the child would have been given away to an orphanage… if, of course, Hilde wasn’t given a thoroughly illegal abortion. But now, Kurt’s sister was a high-ranking government minister, his mother was involved in organising the women and the SS had been driven out of Germany Prime. Who cared what Kurt and Hilde did together?
“Maybe,” Gudrun said. She rose, putting her paperwork aside. “I believe you made me a promise.”
Horst gave her a long look. “You want me to teach you how to fight?”
“Yes,” Gudrun said. “There’s a shooting range in the basement, I notice.”
“Yes. Yes, there is,” Horst said. It was clear she wasn’t going to give up on the thought, even if they were sleeping together now. And how could he blame her? She was in grave danger at every moment. “Come on, then. We’ll draw some weapons from the armoury and shoot a few rounds at the targets.”
Gudrun gave him a tight hug. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”
“It isn’t over,” Horst said. It was hard to think with her breasts pressed against his chest. “I don’t expect this peace to last for long.”
“No,” Gudrun agreed. “They’ll come for us. But we’ll be ready.”
Epilogue
Germanica (Moscow), Germany East
25 August 1985
The operation had failed.
Karl Holliston, Reichsführer-SS and Fuhrer of the Greater German Reich – he’d claimed the title in his broadcast to Germany East – cursed under his breath as he read through the final set of reports. The commandos, thrown into action with minimal preparation, had killed dozens of people, but failed to decapitate the provisional government. It had been a desperate throw of the die and it had failed.
And so there will be war, he thought. There was no other alternative, not now his plans had misfired so badly. But perhaps that’s what we need.
The Reich had been forged in fire. The humiliations inflicted on Germany after the Jews and Americans had stabbed the Germans in the back, the suffering of its people, the sneers of the French and British… they’d fuelled a desire for revenge that had created and shaped the Nazi Party. And then the war of conquest had carved the Greater German Reich out of decadent and corrupt Europe, while the Jews and countless other undesirables had been purged from the land. And the endless war against insurgents in the east had turned Germany East into a fortress of true Aryan values, even as Germany Prime slowly collapsed into decadence.