“Odd, what happened to Hoover,” Truman said, breaking into his thoughts. “Who could have wanted to kill him?”
King assumed that the president was joking and responded lightly. “It’s not as if he had no enemies,” he said. “There are – there were – thousands of people who wanted Hoover dead, often with very good reason.”
“And this person knew when to attack,” Truman said. “The FBI doesn’t know what to make of it.”
“We weren’t the only ones observing the house, obviously,” King said, grimly realising that Truman was wondering if he had done it. “There were elements within the FBI that hated Hoover.”
“Those that survived his rule,” Truman agreed. “William Donovan suspects that the Germans did it, perhaps to keep us worrying. There’s still no sign of Hoover’s files, so they might have gone up in the fire.”
King nodded. If they hadn’t gone up in the blaze, he had no idea what had happened to them. That in itself was worrying; who might have them now. “There’s still no sign of Tolson?”
“None,” Truman said. “The state the FBI is in, it will be years before we have a working counter-intelligence service. The OSS is working to take over the operations in Latin America, where there is evidence of German subversion, but it will be years before the new network is ready.”
King nodded. He’d aided in the planning for the OSS himself. William Donovan, he was certain, had taken his advice to heart; there would be no repeat of the CIA’s disastrous failures in 2001. Building networks within Germany and Russia was the priority, and yet they were far less capable than the British of mounting operations within enemy territory.
He smiled. The BBC’s gloating over the mission to Germany, which had involved an officer using forged papers, had seemed indiscreet at first. After the first reports of Germans shooting Germans for misidentification, he understood the point; anything that disrupted German communications was worthwhile.
“Congress is getting antsy about how we don’t have a working nuclear weapon,” Truman said. “After the British struck Germany – over smallpox, of all things – questions have been raised. Groves says that they’re working at maximum speed and they’ll have one in two weeks to a month, but…”
“The British won’t use theirs on us,” King assured him. “They did warn Hitler and then Himmler about bioweapons.”
Truman shook his head. “Smallpox,” he said. “Who would have thought it?” He sighed. “How is the build-up in Britain going?”
General Palter picked up his PDA and flipped through the pages of information on the screen. “We have the best part of the force already there,” he said. “We’re currently stockpiling supplies and weapons, and then we’ll move the last few units over to Britain.”
“I trust that there is a vigorous training program going on,” Truman said. “We can’t have the troops going soft.”
“We’re running constant drills,” Palter said. “One thing is reasonably certain; the Germans have no sources within Britain itself, and certainly not within the military camps. We will seal the camps off for the last week before the invasion, and start running drills centring upon the actual invasion target.” He shook his head. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll do for the moment.”
He grinned. “As soon as the main landings begin, we can start shipping in the second set of reinforcements,” he said. “We’ll kick off a small offensive in Sweden, just to keep them looking in the wrong direction. Unfortunately, the Turks were unwilling to commit to launching a second diversion in the Balkans, even though they have staked their claim to German-occupied territory.”
“They want it, they fight for it,” Truman said. He took a breath. “Only a week or so to go,” he said. “Was it this bad in your time?”
King considered. How did one explain the media culture of 2015 to a man of 1942? How did one explain that the death of one American was considered a defeat? How did one explain that it was considered perfectly acceptable to make a few airstrikes, perhaps rattle the sabre a few times, and then back out, leaving the enemy alive in its den. How did one explain the howls of outrage that had echoed around the world every time America attempted to correct its mistakes? How did one explain the acceptance that a dictatorship was as legitimate as a democracy?
“Worse,” he said. He frowned inwardly; he hadn’t invested millions of dollars in media and publishing companies to allow America to make the same mistake twice. There would be no Vietnam syndrome here. America would be strong and free, just as she was meant to be. “Much, much worse.”
Truman smiled. “It doesn’t get any easier then,” he said. He looked up at the map; Vladivostok still held out. In 2015, the media would have been screaming for heads, and the President would have given them a few at once, starting with the commanding officer and then a handful of flunkies in the State Department.
King shook his head. Palter was wise enough not to comment. “No, Mr President,” he said. “It doesn’t get any easier.”
Camp Dependable
Near Yarmouth, United Kingdom
22nd May 1942
Captain Jackie Robinson enjoyed Camp Dependable. It was massive, open, and had perfect training grounds. The tank simulators were absolutely wonderful; they mimicked every last movement of a tank, even to destruction. The sheer processing power, as it had been explained to him, allowed them to simulate entire battles, from careful advancement to crazy charges that only worked in the movies. They might have worked in Libya, back when the Transition was new and the British were fighting on their own, but the Germans were tougher than the Italians had been.
“The invasion will begin soon,” General Stillwell informed his captains, two weeks after they had arrived at Camp Dependable. “In three days, we will be sealing this camp and concentrating exclusively on training.”
There was a collective groan. The training had been so intense that men were dreaming about German tanks attacking their positions. Stilwell scowled at them, gaining silence after a few moments.
“We have to train as if we’re going to be fighting tomorrow,” he said. Robinson lifted an eyebrow; were they going to fight tomorrow? Of course not, he concluded. Stillwell continued. “You have been granted two days of liberty,” he said. “I expect you to conduct yourselves accordingly.”
The Captains filed out and reported to their units, passing the news down the line. Two days of leave made up for a lot, but it was clearly a warning that the war was going to begin soon. At least, their part of the war.
“American forces engaged Soviet forces in Sweden today in what has been called a desperate attempt to evict them before the terrain becomes too cold for further advance,” the BBC reporter said. Robinson paused to watch; most of the news meant nothing to him, but the reporter was worth looking at. Her blonde hair and open cleavage suggested a wantonness that was appealing.
“In further news,” the reporter, who was identified as CHARLENE, continued, “American forces were repulsed from yet another attempt to take Vladivostok. Although the Ministry of Defence hasn’t commented, sources within the foreign ministry have suggested that the surrendered Japanese troops took part in the operation, attacking the Russians beside Americans.”
“That’s probably why the attack failed,” Captain O’Neil said. The bluff Irish-American had never looked at just his skin colour, even though their units were rivals. “You can’t trust the Japanese to turn on their allies.”