Chapter Twenty-Eight: Council of War

10 Downing Street

London, United Kingdom

12th September 1940

On the wall of the conference room there hung a chart; British aircraft lost placed next to German aircraft lost. As he had every day for the past month, Hanover studied it grimly, and swore. The RAF had begun the sudden unexpected war with five hundred front-line jets, many of which could not have taken part in an all-out 2015 air war. No one, however, had anticipated an all-out war in 2015; only the Chinese posed a possible conventional threat to global peace – and the aerial defences had been stripped to the bone. Hanover cursed twenty years of peace; the RAF could not have stood off a conventional threat, should one have appeared.

If the Germans ever get aircraft equal to ours, we might be in trouble, Hanover thought grimly. As it happened, the RAF had held, barely. Nearly a quarter of the current pilot strength had been killed – and the remainder were nearing exhaustion – but they’d held. The German losses weren’t precise – even 2015 radar had difficulty identifying who’d killed what – but somewhere around one thousand German planes had been destroyed.

Hanover shook his head and cursed the German who’d proven adaptable enough to force forward the V1 concept. It was worse than hunting Scud missiles, something that had proven futile in the Gulf War and the Syrian Conflict. A handful of SAS commando groups had been covertly inserted into France, looking for launching vehicles, but it had proven as futile at it had been ten years ago and sixty-five years in the future. The Germans didn’t know it, but they’d come close to destroying RAF Neatishead, and had managed to seriously damage the civilian radars in London, Dover and Southampton.

He paced around the room until he was standing by his seat at the head of the table. The… incident with the German spy had worried the police – one German pilot remained unaccounted for, despite a massive search – and Hanover had endured a grim meeting with the Chief Constable in which he explained why total border security could not be guaranteed. After decades of European integration, the nation no longer had the ability to patrol its coastline effectively – and the Germans could insert their own commando teams into Britain. Other than tightening security as far as they could, and recruiting new Police officers, there simply wasn’t much that they could do.

Not for the first time, Hanover considered releasing the ban on use of nuclear weapons. There had been enough anger after the bombing of Dover, to say nothing of the ‘doodlebugs’ hovering in from France, to justify it, but there were other considerations. After all, once the war ended, elections would have to be held – and his own position could be threatened.

He glanced down at his watch; it was almost time for the Council of War. Taking his chair, he waited patiently for the others; there were decisions to be made, and Hanover was looking forward to making them.

* * *

Major – the rank having now been confirmed directly by Prime Minister Hanover – Stirling entered the conference room with more confidence than he had felt before during high-level briefings. He’d dreaded the meetings at first; his low rank made him very much the junior member, just below the coffee boy. Hanover, at least, seemed to appreciate his services, sounding him out on all manner of subjects.

“This meeting of the War Cabinet is hereby called to order,” Hanover said, and the doors were shut. Stirling looked up with undisguised fascination; apart from the regular attendees, there were three Contemporary personnel as well. Admiral Somerville, Prime Minister Menzies and General Wavell. “Before we proceed with the agenda, are there any issues of vital importance?”

Menzies nodded. He’d been in communication with Australia. “If I may interpose,” he said, “my Government has received a communication from the Japanese. In essence, they are formally informing us that they intend to occupy the Dutch East Indies and the remainder of French territory for, quote, ‘the preservation of Japanese lives and property during the unrest,’ unquote. They are demanding that we recognise their right to do so and refrain from causing any… interruption in the flow of vital supplies to the Japanese economy. Any attempt to interfere will be considered an act of war and treated accordingly. They also demand that we use our good offices to prevent any… unfortunate American overreaction.

“My Government, including the commanders of our armed forces, consider this as nothing more than a preliminary for an attack upon Australia,” he continued. “Japanese bases within the Dutch East Indies would make our defence difficult, particularly if we cannot rely on assistance from outside. Quite frankly, even with the designs you’ve sent us, the generals are uncertain about our ability to hold.”

He looked across the table at Hanover. “At the risk of seeming rude,” he said, “I need something I can take back home. What are you going to do about it?”

Hanover nodded at the First Sea Lord, Admiral Grisham. “We have completed preparations for the dispatch of a task force, under Admiral Turtledove,” she said. “The task force will take a minimum of two weeks to reach Australia, and for various reasons the RFAs will have to travel with the main fleet, but we hope to be able to amass at least twenty-five front line warships near Australia. For the moment, four SSNs have been dispatched to the region, but it will be a week before they can arrive.

“Unfortunately our logistics are going to be very bad,” she said. “We will have to start using freighters to transport war stocks to the region, and attacking them will prove an effective way to wear us down. We can use the planned air bridge, which should be beyond the ability of the Japanese to interfere with, but the amount that can be lifted, even on converted jumbo jets, is limited.”

She nodded across at General Chapman. “We hope to be able to dispatch forty front-line aircraft, mainly Harriers and Jaguars, to the region. Once armed with Sea Shadows and the latest in weapons technology – and an AWACS that will be carried on a freighter…”

“Over my dead body,” the Chief of the Air Staff snapped. “We have nine AWACS, two of which desperately require refurbishment and a third which is hors de combat. We cannot risk the Germans obtaining plans of our air defences – such as they came close to doing before – and successfully shutting down our radar. In that case…”

“In that case, we would still have four AWACS,” Hanover said. “Unfortunately, short of our Australia turning up on the sea of time, we have to enhance their radar by whatever means are necessary.” He looked around the room; Stirling thought his eyes lingered on him for a long moment. “We have a commitment to assist the Australians against the Japanese, and we will do what we have to in order to keep that commitment.”

“Thank you,” Menzies said.

Grisham nodded. “We will also be sending Contemporary units and a handful of our own forces to India and Singapore. While the Indian Provisional Government has agreed to cooperate with us, its authority is far from total. The Princes, for example, are refusing to recognise their authority, and are in a position to throw India into chaos.”

Hanover snorted. “It isn’t already?”

McLachlan coughed. “For the moment, we are working out a power-sharing scheme for India, one that will hopefully introduce a form of democracy and give the Princes some stake in the new system. While this is a far from ideal situation, and Gandhi has inveigled against it, the only other option is to… ah, take out the Princes, and we don’t have the forces in place to accomplish that. For the moment, the Indian Army is loyal – between the Contemporary British and the IPG they have a focus of loyalty, but its badly equipped.”

“On the other hand,” General Chapman injected, “we can be fairly certain of holding Singapore this time around, even with the handful of our own forces that were inserted into the region. And, of course, the Japanese will be weaker than they were the first time around.”

Hanover looked thoughtful. “And how strong are they?”

Stirling coughed, feeling more confident than he had the first time he’d summarized the reports of the Oversight Committee. “The Japanese, at the moment, are building up their fleet,” he said. “If the worst-case is to be believed, they have four fleet carrier currently active and two more that will be fitting out at the moment. They also have a serious number of smaller carriers that we can probably dismiss unless they serve as part of the Combined Fleet; they simply don’t carry enough aircraft to be a threat.”

Mildly amused by the look on Admiral Somerville’s face, he continued. “The massive Yamato is in the process of being fitted out at the moment,” he continued. “That ship represents a serious threat; in the original time line it took hundreds of bombs to destroy. Hopefully, we can get most of the fleet with missiles, but I shudder to think what would happen if one of the Japanese battlewagons got within firing range of one of our ships.

“Apart from the Yamato, which might or might not be ready to move, the Japanese have a number of other battleships and a large smaller force, including cruisers, destroyers and submarines. Their main weakness is oil; if we strike against their tankers they will be quickly paralysed, and then we can stave them out if we have to.”

Stirling adjusted the display. “In Australia, the units from North Africa have already returned home, along with a selection of goods from RAF stockpiles. The RAAF is weaker than I’d prefer, but we’ve sent almost half of the tanks and crew from the Contemporary forces in North Africa there. Under Australian command, there are roughly 30’000 British troops, and the 7th Armoured Division (Contemporary) will be dispatched as soon as they have finished training on the Chieftain tanks.

“In essence, the Oversight Committee is certain that we can defeat the Japanese, but at considerable cost,” Stirling concluded.

“Thank you,” Hanover said. “Now, the recent developments in Spain… John?”

McLachlan picked up the control and flipped through the stored – and secure – PowerPoint files, finally displaying the brief from the Foreign Office. After the shock of their arrival had worn off, the Foreign Office had managed to come to grips with most of its new responsibilities, mainly thanks to McLachlan. Commenters were already talking about him as a possible Prime Minister in the future.

“Unfortunately, General Franco has yielded to pressure from Herr Hitler and begun preparations for war against us,” he said. A low murmur ran through the table. “As far as can be determined, the Transition seriously damaged the Spanish economy, as the Spaniards were dependent on materials from the Contemporary Britain. Of course, we didn’t know about that and we probably could not have handled the matter if we had known.”

Hanover chuckled harshly. “I suspect it went something like this,” he said. “Hitler; join us. Franco; hell, no. Hitler; join us, or we will do unto you as we did to the Poles. Franco; Jawohl, Mein Fuhrer.”

“Quite possibly,” McLachlan agreed. “At the moment, the Germans are moving heavy guns into Spain, and positioning them near Gibraltar. We believe that they will attempt to take the Fortress – and that they will succeed.”

Hanover scowled. “What will that do to our logistics?”

“Damage them,” McLachlan said. “This is coordinated action; if Admiral Turtledove’s fleet can’t pass through the Mediterranean, they will have to go the long way around. The German guns can really damage our ships. In the long term, it won’t matter that much; I don’t see any way in which Franco can hold his country together under bombardment, but of course we don’t have enough cruise missiles to really fuck up even the battered Spanish road network. The air bridge uses airports in Morocco, which are out of range of the German guns, so that won’t be affected.”

Hanover scowled. “Have the RAF stand by to strike against the German guns as soon as possible,” he said. “In the meantime, what about war production?”

Armin Prushank, the Minister for War Production, a recreated post, stood up and coughed. He’d once been a schoolteacher and it showed; Smith had made him a Minister and he’d proved himself in revamping the NHS. When the War Production post had been recreated, Hanover had offered him the post.

“Following advice from pilots who have encountered German aircraft, missile production priorities were given to short-range ASRAAMS,” he said. It was a stiff, scholarly delivery; Stirling hid a smile behind his hand. “A Eurofighter can carry eight of the missiles, which provide a powerful force multiplier. Production of cannon shells remains at a suitable level, sufficient for both fighter jet requirements and ground-based anti-aircraft weapons.

“Longer-ranged cruise missiles and precision weapons are proving harder to re-supply,” he continued. “Although we maintained a plant for their construction if necessary, a number of the components were outsourced from America, mainly Tomahawk missiles. Developing our own production has proceeded slower than I would have wished; we have had to find the materials and proceed, in many ways, almost from scratch.”

“Blasted Gordon Brown,” Hanover muttered. “How long until we can start replacing our losses in aircraft?”

“Two more months,” Prushank said. “Unfortunately, Eurofighters were built in components, which were then placed together at a central location. While we have the plans and a stockpile of strategic materials, we are short on experienced staff. Harriers, on the other hand, can be assembled fairly quickly; we hope to have the first new Harrier in two months.”

Barton coughed. “What about building something more… ah, primitive?” He asked. “A Lightning, for example, or a Meteor?”

“We don’t have the plants to build them anymore,” Prushank explained. “Ironically, it would take longer to build them than it would to build something more advanced. Unfortunately…”

“I’m getting sick of that word,” someone muttered.

Unfortunately,” Prushank snapped, “the Ministry is forced to compete with commercial interests, all determined to sabotage British production and our chances of survival.”

Stirling took a breath. It was a sore point and much discussed on the Internet and by the Oversight Committee. The need to construct new ‘toys’ for America and the nations in the British Commonwealth was diverting resources from the war. On one hand, the British needed the dollar income; on the other, it would cripple their ability to make war.

“It was a Cabinet decision,” McLachlan said. “We have to balance priorities…”

I ordered it,” Hanover said. “I understand your concerns; Major Stirling was very clear on the subject. On the other hand, we need to be able to buy American resources, and we need to provide jobs for the workers who would otherwise suddenly become unemployed. Now, is there any other matter before we move onto the final item?”

“I believe that this is a new first for a Liberal Democrat,” Barton said, “but why not just drop the bomb?”

Stirling lifted an eyebrow. “We seem to have this argument from time to time,” Hanover said. “If we blast Germany now, we will have uprisings, counter-uprisings and God only knows what else in Europe, Stalin will roll over the border, and we might have to face a communist Europe. Now, I will not permit their use.”

“There is also the danger of German biological weapons being used against us,” Barton said. “Can we handle such an attack?”

Hanover nodded to Stirling. “The research establishment at Porton Down, which as you know handles pre-emptive biological weapons counter-research, is confident that we can handle an outbreak,” Stirling said. “The sudden loss of most of the fuel supply from the Middle East has limited population movement, so a panic would not be as fatal as the worst-case scenarios suggested. In addition, we have details of the German research and curing infected people would not be a supremely difficult task.

“The Oversight Committee, however, believes that we should quietly warn the Germans – they must know about our nukes – that we will employ the nukes if they attempt to use biological weapons against us. This has a precedent in 1991; President Bush and Prime Minister Thatcher warned Saddam Hussian that any use of biological weapons would draw a nuclear response. President Bush II later warned Iran and North Korea that they would suffer a similar fate if they attempted to use Weapons of Mass Destruction against allied forces.”

Stirling coughed. “We cannot be certain that Hitler will be deterred, but perhaps we can appeal to the rational elements of the German Armed Forces.”

“A sensible idea,” Hanover said. “Perhaps Ernst Schulze can work it into his propaganda speeches.” He scowled. “Which brings us nicely to the final matter; that damned reporter.”

“Unfortunately, Baron Edmund has worked up a lot of support from the press establishment,” the Press Secretary said. “Although it is sheer lunacy…”

“Quite so,” Hanover snapped.

“They are unwilling to let this opportunity go past without a fight,” the Press Secretary said. “A chance to interview Adolf Hitler would make someone’s career.”

“And cost them their life,” Hanover said. He grinned. “A neat way to improve the race, I fear.”

Stirling winced. “I must protest,” he said, knowing that he was talking way above his pay grade. “If she should be captured, her producers would put pressure on us to rescue her, and her equipment could be of inestimable value to the Germans.”

“They have agreed to waive any question of legal responsibility,” the Press Secretary said. “The Germans have agreed, I suspect reluctantly, and all she needs is our permission.”

Hanover glared down at his hands. “There are conditions,” he said finally. “The equipment she takes with her – and that of any assistants – is to be rigged with a self-destruct system, and some handy spyware. She is to be inserted into Sweden and the Germans can pick her up from there. Nothing is to fall into German hands. Finally, I want it clearly understood, and publicly stated, that there is no guarantee of a rescue mission if everything goes pear-shaped. If she gets killed on German soil, its her problem.”

“I believe that they understand that,” the Press Secretary said.

“Make certain of it,” Hanover said.

Stirling’s pager buzzed and he glanced down at the message. “Sir, please could I display a picture from the SAS recon unit in France?”

Hanover nodded; Stirling displayed a picture of an instantly-recognisable man from history, standing in a French garden. He was clearly a prisoner; SS troops followed him everywhere.

“Is that…?” Hanover asked. “Could it really be him?”

“It seems so,” Stirling said. “They’re requesting permission to perform an extraction.”

Hanover grinned. “See to it,” he said. “This could be the break we’ve been waiting for.”

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