The Invasion of 1950

Chapter Two

Berlin, Germany

“Heil Hitler!” The cry burst out from a thousand throats. “Heil Hitler!”

Standing on the balcony, Reichsführer-SS Heinrich Himmler watched as thousands of black-clad soldiers marched past, their faces all perfectly blank and disciplined. The massive parade had been going on for nearly an hour, with overflights by the latest and greatest aircraft of the Reich, and Himmler was more than a little tired of it. It was also something that even he, the second-most powerful man in Germany, couldn’t escape; it was Victory Day. The holiday that Adolph Hitler himself had decreed sacred, the day that Moscow had fallen to a combined assault from German forces, the day that marked the triumph of the Greater German Reich… Victory Day would be celebrated by Hitler’s people, body and soul. They had placed their faith in the Fuhrer and the Fuhrer had delivered; Germany was master of Europe, ruler of an empire that stretched as far as the Urals and the Iranian border.

Himmler glanced over at the Fuhrer, careful not to move too much; Hitler didn’t seem to notice. His health had been growing poorer for years, ever since the British agent — or at least Himmler had accused him of being a British agent - Theodor Morell had began poisoning him with experimental medical treatments. Himmler, loyal to Hitler personally, had finally worked with Goring to have the quack removed and quietly assassinated, but the damage had been done. The Fuehrer’s condition had been degenerating for years.

A roar split the streets as the first Panzers appeared, advancing along the road and passing below the Führer’s balcony. The Panthers were the latest and greatest tanks created by Germany, each one built incorporating lessons from the war. Hitler truly believed that a division of Panthers could have defeated the entire Soviet Union without any further support. He might have been right, in a sense; the Panther was technically superior to anything the Soviets had deployed, but they had sheer numbers. If Moscow hadn’t fallen back in 1941… Himmler didn’t want to think about the possible outcome of the war.

He composed himself as best as he could, watching as the latest Luftwaffe aircraft flew overhead; Goring cheering in delight and pointing out the latest types to Hitler, as if he hadn’t been removed from his position as head of the Luftwaffe years ago. As director of the resettlement project in the east, Goring was harmless, but not smart enough to realise that he was harmless. Himmler knew that Goring didn’t rate as a threat these days and ignored him. Apart from Hitler himself, there were only three men of any importance in Germany.

As if the thought reminded him, he peered down and saw Field Marshal Albert Kesselring and Albert Speer standing and saluting as more Panzer units and infantry marched across the square. Speer — one of Hitler’s favourites — had become director of Germany’s industries… and even Himmler had to admit that he had worked wonders in preparing the Reich for war. His control over the economy was absolute, strong enough to bend all of Germany’s industrialists to his will, and his creation had given Germany the ability to finally reshape the continent to its will. Kesselring, growing older and perhaps stouter, was a more unusual candidate for high office, but as another of the Führer’s favourites, Kesselring had become the highest-ranking military officer in Germany… and, under Hitler, warlord. The old inter-service rivalries had been cut back, sharply under Kesselring. The only completely independent service was the Waffen-SS. The thought of what might happen if Kesselring decided to turn disloyal kept Himmler up at night…

He had wondered if Hitler would give a speech, but as the final lines of the parade died away, it became obvious that the Fuhrer was in no condition to speak; his orderly slowly helped him off the balcony and down towards the conference room. Speer had designed the rebuilt Reichstag himself, but instead of giving it back to elected delegates, it had become Hitler’s headquarters and the centre of control over Germany. Himmler watched as the Führer’s back receded into the distance, and then he stepped down himself, just slowly enough to remind everyone that no business in the Third Reich could be conducted without his presence. He knew what Hitler was going to announce; he also knew that Speer and Kesselring knew as well. Who else knew what was coming?

The conference room had been designed by Hitler personally, and it suited him. There was a single large chair, almost a throne, for Hitler himself and smaller chairs for his subordinates; their subordinates, in turn, would have to stand. One wall was completely covered by a map and Himmler paused long enough to take a look at it, reminding himself of just how far the Third Reich had come and just how far it had to go. Maps covering the pre-Hitler period were officially banned, but Himmler remembered a time when there had been many more states in Europe, before Hitler’s legions had wiped them all out of existence. In German classrooms, these days, students knew nothing about Poland, or Belgium, or Estonia; they had been wiped from history and wiped out on the ground. Himmler had overseen the population transfers personally.

“There is one final piece of business to take care of before the end of this meeting,” Hitler said, his voice weaker than Himmler remembered, back in the glory days. He wasn’t like Goring, who remembered the days of beer and fighting with the Communists as a paradise, but now… it was sometimes hard to remember what they’d been. “It has been years since I rose to the this position of destiny and created the living space in the east for the Reich and the Volk.”

He paused for breath. “We stand supreme everywhere, but only one country in Europe has defied us and held on to a refusal to recognise the mastery of the Volk,” he said, his voice growing louder. “When I offered the British peace on equal terms, they spurned me; they defied me and they defied the Volk! They betrayed their Aryan origins by siding with the Jewish-Bolshevik movement and sending them the weapons and equipment to continue the struggle! Even now, they refuse to bow their heads to Berlin and recognise that their destiny is to become part of the Reich and…”

The ranting grew louder as Hitler continued. At one point, Himmler was worried; Hitler had always been an opportunist, taking advantage of his opponent’s weaknesses rather than having a master plan of his own, but he had always possessed the ability to judge clearly. His only real error had been in failing to anticipate that the British and the French would actually declare war after his forces invaded Poland; even after that, all of his gambles had come off and he was now the undisputed master of the continent. In all of Europe, there were only a handful of countries with any real independence, and all of them knew that their internal autonomy depended on Hitler’s goodwill, rather than any ability to defend themselves from attack. A man who was perfectly capable of launching two hundred divisions at any target wasn’t a man to irritate.

“It is time to settle the account with Britain, once and for all,” Hitler thundered, and immediately sagged. “I have given orders to prepare for the launch of Operation Sunset at once, to be executed as soon as possible, with the goal of conquering Britain within a month. Once Britain has been defeated, we will be finally secure, ready to make preparations for the inevitable final struggle to determine the fate of the world.”

There was a long pause. Finally, Kesselring nodded to Field Marshal Erich von Manstein, who stood up and picked up a pointer, indicating positions on the map. Manstein was another of the Führer’s favourites, a man whose planning had brought down France, Greece and Russia, as well as one of the most skilled strategists in the Reich. Manstein’s position was unchallengeable, as long as he continued to deliver victories.

Manstein’s voice was both firmer and drier than the Führer’s voice. “The original plan for invading Britain was badly flawed,” he said, without particular irritation. Himmler remembered the days when Hitler had dithered over invading Britain and nodded; the plan had been improvised and almost certain to fail spectacularly. “The Wehrmacht and the other services have been working on a plan to invade Britain since 1943, but it wasn’t until recently that we had the fire-power and transport ability to carry it out with a reasonable chance of success. The plan, codenamed Operation Sunset, was first devised in 1947 and has been updated since then until today.”

His pointer indicated Britain. “The British have three elements to their defence; the Royal Air Force, the Royal Navy, and their own Army,” he said. “They have smaller specialised units, like we do, but their military value is questionable. In order to land a major assault force on the British island, we have to get it through the first two enemy forces and then defeat the third on their soil. That is not going to be easy, but it can be done; in particular, we can secure control of the seas for long enough to ship a major army group over to Britain.

“The British Navy, while larger than our own, has many more commitments than we have, including a major deployment into the Mediterranean and a second major deployment into the Far East watching our Japanese friends,” he continued. “That leaves them with their Home Fleet, deployed at Scapa Flow, and various smaller units scattered around the coast. The British battle fleet is composed of mainly older vessels, but if it came down to a direct battleship duel, they would have a serious advantage. We know that their plans call for immediately engaging the invasion convoys, so ours is to hit the Home Fleet first, from the air.”

He grinned. “The British themselves launched an attack on our friends the Italians from the air,” he said. “A handful of elderly aircraft hit the Italian fleet hard enough to make them reluctant to risk combat in the future — not that that’s hard, of course.” There were some chuckles; the Italians had proven themselves such bad fighters that Himmler had wanted to declare them all subhuman, and only Hitler’s fondness for Mussolini had prevented the invasion and subjection of Italy. “The Luftwaffe deploys many more aircraft and has been armed with the latest in anti-ship weapons, providing us with a unique chance to destroy or damage as many of their ships as possible. If necessary, our five carriers will add to the chaos by sending in their own torpedo-bombers, but I hope that we will have crushed most of the enemy fleet in the opening strike.”

“A point,” Generaladmiral Erich Raeder said, his voice darkening. He had birthed the Kriegsmarine and knew full well the odds it would face in a pitched battle. “How can you determine that the British will not detect the attacking bombers on their way?”

“The flight will be flying low for most of the journey,” Manstein said. “We anticipate that they will have some warning, but by our most pessimistic estimate, they will only have enough time to get the antiaircraft defences manned and ready, rather than getting the fleet out of the port and out onto the open sea. Building steam takes time, after all. We will also have deployed a large force of submarines to the area; when the command is given, those submarines will engage every British ship they can find. The bombers will also be heavily escorted, although we anticipate that the RAF will have more pressing concerns.

“At the same time, we will launch major air strikes against every British RAF base and radar station,” Manstein continued. “The British will have to get into the air as quickly as they can, just to drive our aircraft away, while in the meantime we will be hitting their bases as hard as we can. That particular wave of attacks will have a secondary objective; dummy parachutes will be unloaded over the Dover region, ensuring that the British will be wasting their time looking for the parachutists. In the confusion, we will launch the first part of the invasion plan itself.”

He nodded over to Admiral Wilhelm Franz Canaris, the head of the Abwehr, the military intelligence department. Himmler detested Canaris, whose loyalty to Hitler was suspect, but there was no denying the fact that he knew his job very well. Canaris was charged with gathering intelligence from Britain, particularly on British military deployments, but Himmler knew how hard that could be… unless, of course, there was an ace in the hole. His particular ace, something he had even concealed from Hitler, gave him a private, but very advantageous, look into British politics. It was an advantage he had used ruthlessly.

“The British have been preparing for an invasion ever since the first rumours of war,” Canaris said. He’d been in his post for over ten years; Himmler had watched him almost as long. “They spent most of 1940 scrambling to prepare a basic defence, and then they just kept preparing, with the net result that the Dover region is the most heavily defended area in Britain. As the obvious place for us to land, they have fortified the area beyond reason, backed up by ten divisions of their army and heavy armoured units. We were able to get a look at their latest tank during the insurgency in Iraq” — Himmler smiled; the Shah of Iran had supplied that insurgency, with a little push from his German friends — “and while we believe that it’s a good design, they have massed most of them in the Dover region. If we were to attack Dover, the invasion would fail.”

He paused. “So, naturally, we’re not going to attack Dover.”

Manstein nodded. “The British defences there would make an attack far too costly for us to sustain,” he said. “Accordingly, we intend to target the assault on Felixstowe, a British port that has actually been taking some ships from the continent over the last few years. Felixstowe has been built up recently by the British, moving from a small base for motor torpedo boats to housing a small group of destroyers and also some civilian ships. It’s not the largest harbour in the world, or even in Britain, but it’s one that we believe we can take intact. Once we have secured it, the first of the main invasion transports will land and start unloading before we form the units up and advance towards London.”

He drew a line on the map. “The British will have to destroy our forces on the ground,” he said. “We anticipate that they will be able to move the equivalent of one armoured division and five infantry divisions into the area within a few days, although we will be hammering their rail and road communications as much as we can. Once that force is ready, they will advance to attack us — they will have no choice. If they allow us to continue to reinforce at will, eventually we will be able to defeat them on the ground. The destruction of that force, will allow us a chance to expand our grip and advance towards London, burning the heart out of Britain as we move.”

Himmler coughed. “What do you think the British will do with their other fleet units?”

Manstein tapped the map. “I expect that they will concentrate their forces and advance towards us, attempting to cut the sea lanes,” he said. “If they succeed too soon, they will defeat the invasion force, but once we have enough supplies in place, we will still have a chance at victory. The Italians and Japanese may take advantage of their absence to strike; the only problem remains the reaction of the Americans.”

Hitler erupted. “The Americans couldn’t prevent us from doing anything,” he barked sharply. “They have their own problems with their mongrel races and won’t be concerned with our actions!”

Joachim von Ribbentrop, the Reich’s Foreign Minister, looked nervous. The man was believed to be a fool by everyone, including Hitler. “The American President has been focused on internal problems and the Japanese threat,” he said. “I do not feel that the Americans would get involved unless we offered them some huge provocation.”

Himmler smiled. The power play was obvious now; if Kesselring and Speer won the invasion of Britain between them, they would have a chance to oust him from the centre of power in the Reich. It was what he would have done; indeed, he had done it to Goring, among others. When Hitler died, and that wouldn’t be long now, the next Fuhrer would be one of the three most prominent Nazis…

“There is a way of preventing the British from asking for help,” he said, and outlined it. The idea was simple and he even had a unit on hand that could handle it. “The British might not even be able to issue orders for a while if the plan succeeds.”

Hitler loved it. “A splendid idea,” he said, his face growing flushed. “See that it is carried out perfectly.”

“Of course, Mein Fuhrer,” Himmler said.

“I want to have Britain as part of the Reich within two months from today,” Hitler said. His sight faded for a long moment. “Go now… and bring Britain into the Reich.”

The assembled senior commanders and cabinet members left quickly, but Himmler lingered just long enough to meet Hitler’s eyes. His body was shaking slightly, breaking apart, and failing him; it wouldn’t be long before he died. Hitler knew that he had, at best, only a few more years to live. The longer he lasted, the more his body would degrade and humiliate him still further. Himmler couldn’t bear it any longer and fled the room…

Trapped in a dying shell, Adolph Hitler was in hell.