“The third and final plan – although the Turks have been hinting at an offensive through the Balkans – is to launch an invasion through Italy,” he concluded. “While picking off some of their islands is a good idea, it would be far more difficult to launch an invasion fighting our way up Italy.”
“Very good,” Hanover said. “Any questions?”
“Why not just land in France and balance the two problems?” Cunningham asked. “We already know most of the problems with that approach.”
“The Germans might do so as well,” Stirling said. “While yes, a landing in France has much to recommend it, we would still have problems with advancing into Germany… and there would be political issues as well.”
Hanover nodded grimly. Two years after the Transition – and the disappearance of General DeGaulle – the French hadn’t managed to muster even a token resistance to the Germans. The Vichy Government had played upon the loss of Algeria – and its current status as a provisionally independent region – to muster anti-British support from the French, something that Tomahawk strikes had only made worse. While there were a handful of resistance agents, there was no Free French. The same pretty much went for Italy and Spain; ironically, only Germany had a resistance force, the Bundeswehr.
“Certainly, we owe them no favours,” he said. “One way or the other, we’ll have to discuss this with the Americans, seeing that we’ll be mounting a joint offensive.”
Stirling nodded. “The Oversight Committee believes that we should clear up Iran and Iraq, and then launch the invasion of Europe – wherever the Americans want to land, seeing they’ll be providing much of the manpower – in June,” he said. “The long-term plan, marching to Moscow, will have to depend on the outcome of the conflict in Europe. Of course, there are always the other plans.”
Hanover nodded. The orbiting Space Station Hamilton, the construction that the Ministry of Space had assembled in orbit, provided a great deal of the communications and orbital reconnaissance network. He smiled; there were plans to deploy space-based weapons against the Russians… and of course there was the Russian Resistance, which was slowly building up in Russia.
“So,” Hanover said, “we’ll concentrate on Iraq and Iran for April and May?”
General Cunningham nodded. “Quite frankly, sir, we’ve waited too long as it was. I understand the politics behind the decision, as well as the need to send almost all of our new production of weapons to support the Americans, but that’s given Stalin time to build up his own forces.”
Hanover sighed. “We’ve been over that before,” he said. “Short of forcing the Americans to fight on their own, we would have – had had – no choice, but to send them what assistance we could. Still, we have better tanks and better people; we will defeat Stalin.” He looked around the room. “Any final points before I meet with the President?”
Adam Toulouse, Secretary of State for Defence, coughed. “Prime Minister, what about the Japanese?”
“The Australians want to discuss that with us at the coming conference,” McLachlan said. “They want limited offensives to add to their own territory; now that Menzies is certain of victory, he wants to use the Australian forces to take the Dutch East Indies and the other islands and bring them into the Commonwealth.”
Hanover smiled at the thought. It wasn’t one he disapproved of; the future Indonesia had caused quite enough trouble in the future and Sir Robert Gordon Menzies, Prime Minister of Australia, was quite right to try to head it off at the pass.
“We cannot just let them add to their own territory,” Anna Hathaway, Home Secretary, injected. Hanover smiled; it was more a case of not bothering to stop them. “The public…”
“The public would be delighted at how the Aussies are saving the lives of people who would be hit by a typhoon later,” McLachlan snapped. Hanover shrugged; the basic weather pattern had remained the same, but there were small changes happening all the time, growing into bigger changes. With two nuclear weapons deployed – such a bloodless term – it was very likely to change the weather in the future.
Hanover tapped the table. “There is a more important issue at hand,” he said. “What do we do about Japan?” He looked around the table. “Invade them? Costly beyond nightmares. Nuke them? Unthinkable. Starve them out? Unimaginable. What in bloody hell do we do?”
Chapter Two: The Price of Power
Fuhrerbunker
Berlin, Germany
23rd March 1942
They were out to get him, of course.
Führer und Reichskanzler Heinrich Himmler sat in his office and stared down at the report. He’d been careful, in the days before the future Britain had arrived to… complicate matters, to ensure that the SS had good eyes and ears in the other segments of the German system. It had been that – that and sheer bloody determination and calculation – that had allowed him to pick up the reins of power since Adolf Hitler had passed away, struck down by a brain spasm caused by the so-called future medicines from his doctor.
He’d blamed it on the British, of course, extracting a confession from the doctor of British involvement in the plot, striking down the greatest military genius that Germany had ever known. It had provided an excuse to purge Germany of defeatists and troublemakers, people who dared to suggest that the war was lost. He smiled to himself; all they had to do was hold out long enough to build the feared weapons of mass destruction… and use them to force a draw.
Hitler never thought like this, he thought, and smiled. Hitler had devised the plan to trick the Americans into fighting the Soviets personally, but he hadn’t taken it to its logical conclusion. If the Germans provided a great deal of support to the Russians, they would have time to work Russia into their empire… without the brave, powerful and utterly futile invasion that Hitler had ordered, minutes before he died.
It had been a dangerous couple of weeks, just after Hitler had passed away. Some elements in the Wehrmacht had believed that Himmler himself had killed the Fuhrer; even his alliance with Field Marshal Kesselring hadn’t distracted them from several plots to end his rule. Himmler smiled; he’d learnt a great deal from books pilfered from America… including how to run a surveillance state. How could anyone mount a coup if the landline network, built to hide their messages from British decryption computers, was under SS control?
“Rommel,” he cursed. He’d worked hard to turn the former General’s name into a curse. The renegade British cocksucker still broadcast to Germany, sending a recorded transmission every week to the Volk, trying to corrupt their holy purpose. German intelligence, working with the NKVD and GRU, hadn’t been able to establish what had happened to the Germans who had surrendered along with Guderian – another traitor – but Himmler was grimly certain that many of them would have joined Rommel’s band of traitors.
After all, you could find traitors anywhere these days.
“Pah,” Himmler snapped, glancing down the list of people suspected of harbouring treacherous thoughts. It wasn’t a big list; just a handful of Wehrmacht officers suspected of being part of the conspiracy that had nearly cost him his life. One officer, in particular, had a lovely young brown-haired wife… and the agent who had accused him had been a rival for her affections. Himmler considered; was it a genuine case of treachery… or just jealously?
“Albert,” he snapped into the air, without looking up. Seconds later, his young male secretary and bodyguard marched into the room, pulling a perfect salute as he stopped in front of Himmler’s desk.