Rommel nodded again. Jagar frowned; the original Werewolves had been ineffectual, but many of the SS, which would form the Werewolves, regarded the Bundeswehr as traitors. Rommel’s broadcasts, on the shape of the post-war world, would not be pleasing to the SS, even if it was far more than Germany had gotten in the original timeline.
“I hope that they will not be treated harshly,” Rommel said. “It wasn’t an easy decision for me, let alone many others in the Bundeswehr.”
Cunningham nodded. “They will have to go into POW camps until we can sort out the war criminals from them,” he said. “With Ambassador Ernst Schulze organising a post-war administration for the first few years, everything should go smoothly without ever having to compromise with hardcore Nazis.”
“I have a point,” Rommel said. “There are units of the Wehrmacht near the Soviet border. If Himmler or someone else surrenders, we can expect Stalin to launch an attack against them, just to prevent them being aimed at them. What will you do about that?”
Cunningham considered. Jagar wondered if they’d realised that that would be a problem. “We would attempt to help units that had communicated their surrender to us,” he said. “However, you do understand that logistics would not be perfect?”
“Logistics are the bane of strategists,” Rommel said wryly. “They defeated the attack in the Middle East, after all.”
“We will attempt to help them,” Cunningham promised. “Do you see any other problem with the invasion plans?”
Rommel considered. “We can expect that Himmler will throw everything he has at you,” he said. “Do you have sufficient anti-aircraft firepower to hold them back from the landing zones?”
“A good point,” Flynn said. “We hope so; our radars are far better than anything they might use, and most of the bottlenecks have been overcome. Five hundred RAF fighters, nearly a thousand American Hellcats and Mustangs, and every ship will have automated anti-aircraft machine guns. It’s going to be a nightmare, but the computers can cope.”
“I hope you’re right,” Rommel said. “In the Battle of Britain, we – they – overwhelmed you by force of numbers alone.”
“It’s a different situation,” Cunningham said. “In 2015, or 1940, we expected to face attacks by handfuls of jet aircraft, assuming that we ever fought a conventional war at all. Now our defences have been adapted, the only real threat are those missiles, and they’re a pain rather than a real threat.”
Rommel smiled. “I hope you have reason to be confident,” he said. Jagar frowned inwardly; he knew that meat hooks would be the least that the Bundeswehr soldiers could expect if they lost and were captured. “Now, shall we discuss the details of the offensive?”
They started to discuss the long complex process of landing troops. Jagar was impressed with the logistics programs; they were so capable, they might have made communism work. Thousands of ships, from roll-on, roll-off ships, to car ferries to American liberty ships, had been amassed for the offensives. Thousands of tanks and nearly two hundred thousand soldiers were being prepared for the offensive, gathered at camps all over Britain.
“This will be very chancy,” Rommel said afterwards. “How are your people taking the preparations for the invasion?”
Cunningham snorted. “There is a lot of anti-German feeling now,” he said.
“That’s why you kept the Bundeswehr away from the public,” Rommel said, without resentment. Jagar admired his calm. “You don’t want an incident.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Flynn said. He sounded sincere. “Your men fought well during Redemption and the final attacks on the Russians in Iran.”
“Think nothing of it,” Rommel said. “It’s to erase the stain on Germany’s honour, not to do anything for you and your Commonwealth.”
There was an uncomfortable pause. “We understand your position,” Cunningham said finally. “Now, what about lunch?”
German Embassy
London, United Kingdom
15th May 1942
Ambassador Marcel Duchamp glowered as he walked past the police guard and entered the German embassy. It was ludicrous; the Germans were threatening all of Europe, and the German embassy was the centre of the plans for the new post-war Europe. Duchamp scowled; between the British and their… Commonwealth, there would be nothing left of the French Empire, no chance for France to develop to superpower status. Australia had seized French territory in the Pacific; Indochina would go independent – and communist, he was sure – and Algeria… the British had turned it into part of their empire.
Duchamp’s face grew even darker. He knew that elements within the French embassy had been shivering at the thought of having to deal with DeGaulle, who would have led the Free French movement. In the week since learning of their fate, he had devised plans to have DeGaulle killed and then having it blamed on the Germans, before realising that DeGaulle had vanished along with Churchill and the Britain of 1940. Petain, however, was worse; France was now a full member of the Axis of Evil… and the British were dealing with the Germans!
He glared at the German secretary as she led him into the meeting room. The British had permitted the creation of a German army – and a post-war administration under a known Eurosceptic – which would ruin France still further. There would be no socialist European Union; no attempt to prove that France was right, whatever the cost to economic growth. France would become a backwater, the Germans would regain their power within a decade.
I knew that Hanover hated the European Union, he thought bitterly, but did he have to ruin France as well? He looked up; five other ambassadors were looking back at him. Not all ambassadors had survived the trip through time, for the simple reason that they’d not been in Britain at the time; the German, French, Italian, Spanish and Ukrainian ambassadors were present in the room. Absently, he wondered what had happened to the Japanese Ambassador, the wretched Sato woman.
He scowled, directing mental vitriol at Hanover. Only the German and Ukrainian ambassadors had been directly involved in shaping the post-war world. The others… had been sidelined.
“Thank you all for coming,” Ambassador Ernst Schulze said. He glanced around the room; the French Ambassador looked as sick as a dog. “I won’t mince words; the invasion of Europe through France is about to begin.”
“They have not asked our permission for such a move,” Duchamp snapped.
“I hardly think they need it,” the Spanish Ambassador said. Relations between Spain and France had been unpleasant following the Gibraltar Incident. “It’s not as if the government of Marshal Petain recognises you.”
“I have offered to go back there and convince them to surrender,” Duchamp snapped. “The glory of France is being held down and…”
Schulze tapped the table. “That’s beside the point,” he said. “The war will end soon, either through the Allies – which only includes General Rommel’s Bundeswehr from us – marching to Berlin, or though the use of nuclear weapons. Then… what will become of our countries?”
He looked around the room. “Most of you will be aware of the agreement we have made with the Allies,” he said. “Germany, at least, will have a limited military, and certain obligations regarding war crimes. On the other hand, there will not be an onerous occupation, nor will Germany be separated into two sections. The government will have strictly limited powers, including very little control over the commercial sphere and limited taxation powers.”