Second Chance

Chapter Forty-One: A Date That Will Live In Infamy

House of Representatives

Washington DC, USA

26^th September 1940

“A date that will live in infamy,” Roosevelt said.

Ambassador King couldn’t even raise a smile. The President had been delighted by the recording of his speech from the original history, but events had forced it away. He hadn’t realised just how much hope had been invested in the men cruelly slaughtered in the cold seas. The news had hit Washington late last night… and the town had gone mad. Germans had been hunted through the streets… and some Congressmen were calling for a declaration of war. Radio Berlin was denying it, of course, but no one believed them.

“The election is going to be a war mandate,” Roosevelt said grimly. “Wilkie and Wallace are acting as if the ship deserved to be sunk, for being in a war zone without permission, and blaming it all on me.”

King nodded. Official Washington had swiftly divided itself up into two camps. Under normal circumstances, they might have moved quickly to a decision, but now… now was the election in a month, and with war on the agenda…

“All of the industrialists and navy men are screaming for war,” Roosevelt said. “They want to declare war on Germany and Japan. The senate is going to debate the matter later today; perhaps I should ask them for a declaration of war.”

“You should,” King said. “The Germans used the lit-up ship as a target; they knew it was American. They knew who was on the ship and moved to kill them!”

“So their… ancestors have been reminding their senators,” Roosevelt said. “Ambassador, this is going to be nasty.”

King studied Roosevelt. The news of the disaster had stunned the President; his body wasn’t as strong as it had been once. Did he still have the strength for the coming war? The Japanese had been careful not to hit American targets, but anti-Japanese hysteria was rising; General Macarthur had been sent to the Philippines, with a mandate to get the defences ready. King had a nasty suspicion that the man who abandoned his troops in the first timeline would be watched like a hawk in the second timeline.

“General Marshall has been in communication with me,” Roosevelt continued. “We’re nothing like ready for war now; many of our best units went to the Philippines and Pearl Harbour. If we withdraw them, we might as well invite the Japanese in to take over. On the other hand, how are we to press the war against Germany?”

King smiled; Colonel Palter had been over the matter with him too. “We build up in Britain,” he said. “It’ll take us at least six months to build up a powerful force in Britain, then we swarm over the channel and march on Berlin.”

Roosevelt nodded grimly. “General Groves is worried about the German atomic bomb,” he said. “If it gets used here, will the British retaliate for us?”

King nodded. “I believe that Prime Minister Hanover would use his own bomb to punish the Germans,” he said. “However, it might be worth asking him.”

Roosevelt was reluctant to use his wheelchair too much within the Senate or the House of Representatives. Even knowing that he would die in four years unless he took better care of himself hadn’t removed his concern; showing weakness on the floor could be jumped on with ease.

“We have been attacked,” he said, and his voice whispered through the room, building in power. “This is not a simple… mistake, this is not an accident, this is an act of war. Losing the Sims was an accident; the destroyer might have been hit by accident, but not the Virginia. Not a battleship, lit up at night, carrying a glowing American flag. This was a deliberate, a defiant, slap in the face for us!

“The Germans say that they didn’t do it,” he said. “I say they’re lying; they must have fired on the battleship. They wanted to scare us, to remind us that we are not safe, and they have angered us. They have awoken a giant; Germany, Russia and Japan, the Axis powers, have set out to dominate the world! Do we allow them to conquer the world, slaughtering entire peoples until they come for us at the end, or do we make a stand against them now?

“They are three powers, working together, working to share the world between them,” he said. “I ask the House now for a declaration of war against Germany, against Russia and against Japan. I ask the House to make a stand, to say enough; we will not surrender to the evil of the world. We have allowed others to fight for too long; now it’s our turn. I ask the House to vote now, to declare war.”

He sat down. Roosevelt, an astute politician, didn’t expect the House to declare war on all of the Axis powers, but he hoped that they would declare war on Germany. The debate raged on and on, sparing no argument and counter-argument. By the time a decision was made and voted upon, it was almost dark.

10 Downing Street

London, United Kingdom

26^th September 1940

Admiral Grisham nodded politely to Hanover as she entered the war room. Hanover nodded back with the respect that one gives to a dangerous adversary; short and bulky, with a bulldog face, Grisham was not known for giving ground to anyone, even the Prime Minister. Her support staffer, a young Asian girl called Karen, carried secured datachips with her, loading them into the secured computer. Hanover allowed himself a moment to admire the curve of her behind in her uniform, before waving Grisham to a seat.

“All right,” he said, once the staffer had left the room. “What’s so important that you had to call me away from a meeting?”

“As you know, the Japanese are blockading Australia,” Grisham said. “We’ve had some success by using submarines to pick off their blockade forces, but we’re short on torpedoes and they have been successful at cutting the air bridge. What that means is that Admiral Turtledove, who is a week away after rounding the horn, is going to have to fight his way through.”

Hanover scowled. “Do the Japanese know that he’s coming?”

“We know that they have agents in Madagascar,” Grisham said. “There are also the South Africans who want to move at once to an Apartheid system; they would be happier if we and the Nazis battered each other into the ground. Yes, we believe that the Japanese know that the fleet’s coming.”

She waved a hand at the map. “One of our problems has been to locate the Japanese carriers and battleline,” she said. “They’ve been very successful at manoeuvring the carriers fast enough to avoid our submarines, and the Captains have been ordered to avoid risking their own discovery by attacking a heavily guarded convoy. Of course, if they knew how few ships we have… they would be very tempted to try and take out Turtledove’s force.”

Hanover nodded. “I see your point,” he said. “Should we order him to the Arabia Republic?”

Grisham grinned. “Why?” She asked. “We can have the other submarines meeting up with him, and he has some of the newer destroyers and frigates, armed with Harpoons. As long as they don’t come to point-blank range, he should be able to cripple the Japanese fleet.”

Hanover steepled his fingers. “The Australians need the equipment on the freighters, don’t they?”

“Oh, yes,” Grisham said grimly. “Without it… well, the Japanese are pouring units into the East Indies and advancing on the Australian positions. With the growing war in Malaya, we won’t be able to spare them anything new for a while, which leaves them on their own.”

Hanover stared up at the map. “When was the last time a British fleet sought battle with another fleet?” He asked. “The Falklands? World War Two? Admiral are you confident that we can win such a battle?”

“As long as the enemy doesn’t close on the fleet successfully, then yes; we can win,” Grisham assured him.

“The enemy gets a vote too,” Hanover muttered. “Very well; order Admiral Turtledove to execute the plan, assuming that he gets a chance, but the freighters are not to be risked.”

“Yes, Prime Minister,” Grisham said.

Undisclosed Location

Berlin, Germany

26^th September 1940

Goebbels glared into the camera. “I say again,” he said, his voice firm and convincing. “No submarine of the Third Reich was anywhere near the American battleship. The Fuhrer himself decreed that all American ships were to be left alone, and none of the u-boats were close enough to fire at the American ship.”

He scowled; the effect was quite impressive. “The Third Reich rejects the American claims without doubt,” he snapped. “The British or the treacherous French doubtless used one of their own submarines to hit the ship, merely to start a war with America. While the demand that Germany send its crew to America for trial, there is no crew for Germany would not be so uncivilised as to fire upon a battleship of a friendly power.”

He finished speaking and stormed off. Stewart turned off the camera and carefully stored it back in its carry case. Roth watched her thoughtfully.

“Do you think he was telling the truth?” Stewart asked.

Roth lifted an eyebrow. The woman had no common sense; despite being in the centre of the Nazi regime, she asked the strangest questions of people who were either fanatical Nazis or scared to give a honest answer. If Himmler hadn’t issued the strictest orders to keep her safe, she would have been dead a thousand times over.

“Normally, around here, when something is planned, people try to take advantage of it,” he said finally. “No one has moved to take advantage of this development, which is the surest sign that this was an accident.”

“I see,” Stewart said thoughtfully. “I suppose that there’s no way to be certain?”

Roth shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “You could ask for another interview with the Fuhrer” – he smiled at her expression – “or the Grand Admiral, but I don’t think that anyone planned for this to happen.”

Stewart nodded. “If you don’t mind, I’ll transmit this back to London for the evening news, and then we can find something else to do.”

Roth smiled. The woman was insatiable. “Of course,” he said, and thought of what they could do together.

Professor Horton studied the document from Washington, from the German ambassador, and felt a surge of hope for the first time. He forced a smile off his face as the SS guards hauled him along the long corridors to Himmler’s office, and managed to sound respectful as Himmler greeted him and waved him to a seat.

“The report is grim,” Himmler said, without preamble. “Tell me; will the United States declare war on us?”

Yes, Horton wanted to shout. “There’s no way to be certain,” he said instead. “Historically, the United States was declared war on, by the Fuhrer, rather than declaring war itself. It’s impossible to know for sure.”

“And if America joins the war?” Himmler pressed. “Can we defeat them?”

Horton considered. The information had to be chosen carefully. “If you manage to develop an air defence network and secure positions in France, you can hold them off until they get tired of bleeding to death,” he said carefully. He was determined not to mention the atomic bomb. “I assume that you have no way of hitting them.”

“Von Braun believes that we can push the V3 forward, a rocket capable to hitting the Americas,” Himmler said. “If we can build a nuclear warhead” – Horton felt his face go pale, even behind his dark skin – “then we can threaten them with nuclear fire and devastation.”

“Or they’ll bombard you with their own weapons,” Horton said, reeling. He had hoped that Himmler knew nothing about nuclear weapons. “The British have a lot of such weapons.”

“And would they agree to risk trading city for city?” Himmler asked. Horton winced. “If we have the weapons in time, we can prevent them from landing, correct?”

Horton shuddered inside. “If you have the weapon, then you can deter them,” he said. “You’ll have to set off a nuke someone out of the way, just to convince them that you can do it.”

“Then we would lose a warhead for nothing,” Himmler said. Horton scowled; he’d hoped that Himmler wouldn’t notice. “On the other hand, if we work with the Soviets, we can…”

“They’ll be ready to stab you in the back,” Horton said quickly. Historically, Stalin had considered hitting Hitler; the only thing he hadn’t counted on was Hitler striking first.

“Perhaps, perhaps,” Himmler said. He considered. “Kesselring has been suggesting that we move against the Turks and join hands with Stalin. What do you think of that?”

It’ll overstretch you, Horton thought. “Historically, the Turks were very resistant to joining either side,” he said, wracking his memory. “They made a pro forma declaration of war towards the end of the war, on you, but they contributed nothing beyond that. On the other hand, you control goods that they need to have and you can even threaten a joint invasion.”

Himmler considered. “And once we were in the desert, we could punch into Iraq and then into their new conquest,” he said, ignoring the logistical problems. “I suppose that that would impress the Fuhrer; he might even commission you as a member of the General Staff.”

With a shock, Horton realised that Himmler intended to credit him with the plan. He showed no concern over the Turks, or even the Germans who would be killed on the mad plan. He’d sowed the seeds of Germany’s defeat – and it was only at the cost of thousands of lives.

“Are you unwell?” Himmler enquired mildly. “Perhaps the services of the SS doctor…”

“No, thank you,” Horton said. “I think I must have eaten something that disagreed with me.”

As opposed to being eaten by something that disagreed with me, he thought, as Himmler managed to look concerned. It didn’t look natural.

“So, if you maintain a defence of the coast at all of the possible invasion points, you can prevent them from gaining a foothold,” he said, knowing that he was suggesting the impossible. “If they can be prevented from gaining a foothold, you can slaughter their men; invasion will probably be impossible until spring of 1941, at least.”

Himmler smiled. “Thank you, as always, Doctor,” he said. “Might I enquire after the health of your wife?”

Horton knew that it was a not-so-subtle threat. “She’s got Morning Sickness,” he said. “Your… nurse has been very helpful.”

“Indeed,” Himmler said. “I have no doubt that she will be equally useful in the future.”

General Galland allowed himself a half-hearted smile; Goring had finally been completely disposed from the Luffwaffe. The podgy Reichmarshall would still have a role in the Reich, perhaps as a propaganda specialist or as administrator of the resettlements in Poland, but he would never be given serious responsibilities again. News of his actions in the last days of the Reich had finally crossed Hitler’s ears, and the tantrum had been spectacular.

A pity that the fat fool wasn’t simply executed, Galland thought, as he listened to Kesselring. The strategist was describing in grand detail Operation Orient, the plan intended to force passage though Turkey during the winter, and then regroup to meet the Americans, should they invade from Britain.

“If we are successful at invading or otherwise convincing Turkey to join us,” he said, “we can push our way into Iraq and this new… Arabia Republic…”

“British Imperialism,” Goebbels said. Radio Berlin had been decrying the conquest of Saudi as soon as word had reached them from Nazi supporters in Iraq. “It exposes the hypocrisy of the British, that they move against a free country…”

Hitler banged the table. “Carry on, Field Marshal,” he said, as the room went silent.

“As soon as we present a threat to their Middle East possessions, they will have to commit forces to fight us there,” Kesselring said, as if Goebbels hadn’t spoken. “Fortunately, the British fleet presence in the Mediterranean has been sharply reduced; mainly Contemporary vessels with a handful of advanced ships. Italian shipbuilders have been turning out submarines, which we have sent against the Contemporary vessels.

“Once we are established, we will move to present a threat to their canal and to their new allies in Saudi,” Kesselring continued. “Their choice will be to fight us in a region hostile to us, while the Soviets head east and enter India.”

“Stalin hasn’t managed to take Iran yet,” Himmler muttered. “How do we know that the sub-humans won’t simply give up?”

“He can’t afford not to,” Kesselring said. “Now, more than ever, he needs our support.” He looked up at Hitler. “Mein Fuhrer, we can have the main elements in place in two weeks, and then ask the Turks to join us or be invaded.” He scowled. “Mein Fuhrer, we have to move now; not before America can weigh in. We have to buy time, time to prepare the new batches of weapons, time to build the atomic bomb. Forcing the pace of conflict forward is the only way that we can win that time…”

“Mein Fuhrer,” Hitler’s secretary called. Galland blinked; she knew better than to interrupt unless it was something very important. “This came in from Washington.”

“Thank you, Trudi,” Hitler said, and took the sheet of paper. He read it quickly. “The die is cast,” he said. “It’s time for us to meet our inevitable destiny.”

Galland read the sheet of paper as it was passed around the room. The important bits were all too clear.

Hitler crumpled the paper and looked across at Kesselring. “Operation Orient is approved,” he said. “Field Marshal, it’s all in your hands now; save Germany and win us the time we need.”