The Long Hard Road

Chapter Thirty-Six: Containment

Fuhrerbunker

Berlin, Germany

3^rd June 1942

“They have successfully secured a lodgement on the mainland,” Kesselring said. Himmler seemed to be taking the news calmly. “Despite the Luftwaffe’s brave sacrifice, we have been unable to do more than shell from a long distance the enemy positions. In effect, they control most of the Netherlands, and we assume that they are repairing the ports.”

“And once they have the ports repaired, they can flood reinforcements into Europe,” an SS officer said. Kesselring, who would have been delighted to have the divisions of King Tigers that that man commanded in the Netherlands, said nothing. “We have to evict them from there quickly.”

Himmler nodded. “I assume that we’ve added bombardment by V1s and V2s to the problems that the Allies have to face?” He asked. “How soon can we remove them from the continent?”

“We’ve been launching V1 missiles, which have had little effect because of their anti-aircraft defences, and V2s, which have been having some effect,” Roth said. Kesselring nodded to himself; he knew that he had to talk to Roth. “We’re launching them as fast as we can build them, but Allied interdiction is having an effect.”

Kesselring nodded grimly. The Allies had been worried about causing civilian casualties, but no more – they’d hit thousands of targets all across Germany, shattering the road and rail networks. Germany had been seriously disrupted; almost the entire transport network, which the Speer Machine depended upon, had been ruined.

“I understand,” Himmler said. “Field Marshal, when can we launch an attack?”

Kesselring sighed. “I don’t think you understand the problems,” he said. “Almost all of the divisions that were within the Netherlands and Belgium are gone. The revolts in Belgium, supported by Allied air power, have shattered our forces, and they have been very careful to crush any of our forces within their occupied regions and outside – there are only fragments left, hardly enough to do more than a few isolated sabotage incidents.

“The forces that were positioned in France” – against his advice, he knew – “have also taken a battering, even though the Vichy forces have managed to prevent any unrest. We’ve been trying to move units back… and they hunt us from the air.” His voice became darker. “We have to move under cover of darkness to have any hope at all of surviving; it will take us weeks to move forces into position for a counter-attack.”

He sighed. “We’re having better luck with infantry units, but without tank support they can’t hope to stem the tide, let alone push them back into the sea. Our communication network has taken a battering as well, and enemy jamming is prevalent across the radio network. In effect, the communications network that we depend upon is being destroyed, and we have no way to replace it quickly. Our forces will be fighting at one more disadvantage; even with their training to seize the initiative, they will be unable to score more than local victories.”

“I can help with one thing,” Speer said unexpectedly. “Some of the new King Tigers were being prepared for delivery to the front. We can move them from the factories tonight, and then…”

“Move them under shelter,” Kesselring said. “In the daytime, we might as well paint bulls eyes on them.”

“See to it,” Himmler said. “Field Marshal, what do you suggest we do next?”

“We have to build a defensive line, a series of defensive lines,” Kesselring said grimly. “We have to put everything there, hoping to blunt and destroy their attack, which has to be coming. We don’t know how long it will take them to overcome their supply difficulties, but it won’t be long. Have the agents in America suggested anything?”

“Nothing,” Roth said, with a nod from Himmler. “The reports we got were contradictory, to say the least.”

“We still have rockets to launch at the bridgehead,” Himmler said. “We can use them to force them to slow down their efforts.”

Kesselring saw his chance. “If I may borrow Obergruppenfuehrer Roth, he can assist me in figuring out the correct targets,” he said. “I don’t know enough about the rockets and their capabilities.”

“You have had a lot on your mind,” Himmler said. “Very well; make sure that the defence line is as tough as you can make it. Call up everyone to help create the line; old men, women, children… all of them.”

“Can we take men from the camps?” Speer asked. “They can’t be moved and they will be useful working themselves to death.”

The good nazi, Kesselring thought dryly, as Himmler nodded. Speer was merely the man who’d hidden his evil from the world. It had been a dark day for the world when Hitler had chosen to ignore the evidence against Speer in favour of his considerable talents.

“Summon my Grand Vizier,” Himmler ordered. “Field Marshal, Obergruppenfuehrer Roth, use the rockets to bring us victory.”

Obergruppenfuehrer Roth allowed himself a moment of puzzlement, even though he had enough sense not to question Himmler’s orders. He had thought that Kesselring had been fully briefed on the rockets, by Speer if not the specialist rocket division. He kept his puzzlement from his face as Kesselring led him into the Wehrmacht sections of the massive bunker, away from the collapsed regions of the bunker. A British bomb had nearly ruined a section of the bunker, fortunately not exposing it to the sight of the British.

Roth blinked as Kesselring led him into a private room, and then performed a basic search for electronic surveillance devices. He wanted to ask what was happening, but a strange sense of… doom kept him quiet, even as Kesselring waved him to a chair.

“We have lost the war,” Kesselring said grimly. Roth opened his mouth to protest. “They can simply move faster than we can and they can see everything we do,” Kesselring continued. “Between you and me, I was… rather over-optimistic when talking to Himmler; I’ve already written the forces in France out of the coming final battle.”

Roth started to rise. His loyalty was to Himmler. “Sit down,” Kesselring snapped. The note of command in his voice was powerful; Roth sat back down before his mind had caught up with it. “You’re not a stupid man, Herman; can you tell us any way out of the predicament?”

Roth gave the question serious consideration. “If we kill enough of them…?”

“We won’t manage it,” Kesselring said flatly. “In the worst-case scenario, they can put two hundred thousand superbly trained and equipped men into the Netherlands in a week, perhaps less. They will certainly focus on reinforcing as quickly as possible; I would, in their place. Once they’re ready to advance, and they will certainly be ready ahead of us, no matter what Speer thinks, they will give us the impossible task of holding a line from Hamburg to Bonn, which we will have to hold everywhere.

“When they come, they will have better tanks, better weapons and total air superiority,” Kesselring continued. “We will not have the advantage in anything, but numbers, and the troops we can put into the line will not be all front-line; some of them will be old men or young boys, and they will be unequal to the task.”

He sighed. “And if they get bored of the battle, they can resort to blowing a five-mile wide hole in the line,” he concluded. “You’re not a stupid man… do you think we can win?”

Roth felt despair, fear… and terror. He reached for a hope. “We could withdraw to the east,” he said. “Make our stand there…”

“Which will merely prolong the misery of our population and the devastation of our industrial base,” Kesselring said. “They will destroy the Rhineland and its factories; they will remove people from our control and they will not be stopped! Obergruppenfuehrer Roth, whose side are you on?”

Roth lifted a tear-stained face. “How can I betray the man who supported me?” He asked. “The Fuhrer was always good to me.”

Kesselring shook his head. “I had hoped to spare you this,” he said grimly. He picked up a folder and passed it over. “I’m sorry about this.”

“I bet you are,” Roth muttered, opening the folder. He read the preliminary notes quickly, and swore. “This can’t be real…”

“It is all that remains of the smallpox weapon project,” Kesselring said. “Notice what happened to give the project its sudden boost.”

Roth read the report. It was cold and clinical, referring only to the ‘subject,’ until the final paragraph. It made grim reading; he wanted to vomit. He’d done terrible things for Himmler, including using Jewish prisoners to clear up after the first nuclear strike, and this was worse.

Subject Stewart was interrogated several times for information on the use of smallpox in 2015. Her resilience, weakened by starvation, involuntary blood donations and repeated rape, was low; she gave what information she had freely. Many common viruses in our time were apparently wiped out or reduced to almost nothing in the future, therefore suggesting that any deployment into the 2019 Britain would be disastrously lethal for the citizens.

Subject Stewart seems to possess no skills or experience that will be useful for the advanced weapons project. It is therefore recommend that she be terminated as soon as sufficient stocks of her blood have been built up.

“I’m sorry about that,” Kesselring said. Roth realised grimly that he was sincere. “As far as we know, she was killed in the nuclear blast that destroyed the smallpox research laboratory.”

Roth didn’t hear him, clutching the report until his hands started to bleed from paper cuts. He dabbed at them with his handkerchief, feeling pure pain flowing through his body. A single thought was running through his mind; she’s dead, Himmler killed her…

“That’s what Hitler’s – and then Himmler’s – regime meant,” Kesselring said coldly. His sympathy had vanished. “That’s the fate he had in store for her all along.” He placed a hand on Roth’s shoulder. “He was willing to court the destruction of our nation in order to use her blood to create such horrible weapons.”

Roth closed his eyes in pain. “What do you want me to do?”

“End the war,” Kesselring said. Roth almost laughed through the pain in his heart. “Help us to circumvent the SS’s lock on what remains of the communications network.”

Roth spoke grimly, feeling his pain congeal into rage. “It can’t be done,” he said. “The SS controls all of the communication nodes. How did it ever come to this?”

Kesselring shook him. “We need help,” he snapped. “Germany needs you to end this war.”

Roth looked up at him. “But… there’s only one way to do that,” he said. “I’ll have to kill the Fuhrer.”

“I’m afraid so,” Kesselring said. “You’re one of the few people trusted with a weapon in his presence.” He held up a hand. “First, however, we have to organise a transfer of power, and we don’t have much time at all.”

Professor Horton studied the map with a mixture of feelings. Awe; the attack had been on a scale that dwarfed even Iraqi Freedom. Concern; the supply lines were far from perfect. Fear; the Germans might just dispose of him before the British Army could take Berlin.

Himmler paced from side to side, his famous stillness broken at last. “Well, Herr Professor,” he snapped finally. “What do you make of it?”

“They’re trying to march to Berlin,” Horton said, in the certain knowledge that German strategists would have made the same deduction. It wasn’t difficult; what else could they be doing?

“Yes, but when?” Himmler demanded. “When will they have the ability to break out of their positions and lance their way over the fatherland?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Horton said. Himmler scared was almost as bad as Himmler angry. He spoke softly. “They won’t take long,” he admitted. “They’ll have fixed most of their logistics by now.”

Himmler looked up at him. “So, what happens to the Reich now?”

Horton shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “What manner of agreement have they signed with Japan?”

“I have no idea,” Himmler said. “Ambassador Takji was most unhelpful; they have betrayed us completely!”

Horton sighed. He wished that there had been more information on what had happened in Japan; all they knew was that there had been some kind of coup. “They didn’t have a choice,” he said finally, understanding suddenly. Himmler was scared for his own personal survival.

“They could have died,” Himmler protested. “Everyone fails me; the Wehrmacht, the Luftwaffe, the Kriegsmarine… they all failed me!” He paced grimly. “I will leave Germany,” he said finally. “They will fight to the death to cover my departure.”

Horton had expected it – Himmler had attempted to flee in the original timeline as well – but it was still a shock. He knew that there were no words he could use; Himmler was completely self-centred. Thousands – perhaps millions – of Germans would die in the next month, just to buy Himmler a chance at escaping the Reich.

Ten Downing Street

London, United Kingdom

3^rd June 1942

Hanover allowed himself a sigh of relief as the final significant German position in the Netherlands, dug deep into Amsterdam, was destroyed. Caught between a very hostile population and an invading army, afraid of failure – and of losing his wife who was in the hands of the SS – the commander of the force had fought bitterly, if futility. Finally, a concentrated bombing raid had shattered his defences, and the Royal Marines had mopped up the handful of survivors.

“We hold most of the Netherlands,” General Cunningham said. He wasn’t just briefing Hanover himself, but also President Truman through the video link. “While there are doubtless a few Germans left around, they no longer pose a threat. Our forward positions, poking our way towards the Ems, have been reinforced, although we have called off future offensives until we have managed to reinforce.”

Hanover nodded. “How long until the forces in place are sufficient for further advancement?” He asked. “I have a nasty feeling that Himmler has more tricks up his sleeve.”

Cunningham nodded. The hail of rockets against Britain – and proto-ICBMs from Russia against America – continued without a pause. The need to ensure that none of the missiles carried something worse than high explosive was wasting resources; noticing that most of the missiles were exploding in flight wasn’t reassuring anyone.

“We have moved ten divisions, mainly infantry with one armoured division, over now,” Cunningham said. “We’ve used the armoured division and four of the infantry units to secure our borders, and the remaining infantry to finish destroying German holdouts. In the next few days, we hope to have the remainder of the force brought over, now that we have a port working and taking ships.”

President Truman coughed. “How are the locals taking the invasion?”

Cunningham smiled. “They’re very glad to see us,” he said. “They killed a lot of particularly unpleasant Germans themselves before the advancing columns reached the cities. The remains of the civil administration have placed themselves at our disposal, so we won’t have to worry about their loyalties. Unfortunately, we do have to worry about feeding them; the Germans tore up their food supplies pretty bad and they were on short rations anyway.”

Armin Prushank nodded. “General, we can begin shipping over supplies at once,” he said.

Hanover nodded. Prushank might be a boring little man, but he knew his business. “Please, see to it,” he said. “It might delay an offensive, but feeding the population takes priority.” He nodded at McLachlan. “Anything from our charm offensive?”

“The Germans still seem to be in control of Italy and France,” McLachlan said. “There seems to be some friction between the two, but as long as the Germans keep their boots to their behinds, they’ll say Jawohl and obey Himmler. Spain, on the other hand, might just be preparing to switch sides, now that the grain trains and other German supplies have been halted.”

“We will have no truck with fascism,” Truman said grimly, and Hanover nodded. Whatever it took, all of Europe was going to come out of the war democratic. “Whatever deals will make must be contingent on the development of a democratic government and the arrest of war criminals.”

Hanover frowned inwardly. Spain’s war criminals, most of whom had fought for Franco during the civil war, were hardly a matter of great concern. The newly formed Spanish lobby in Britain had been screaming about saving the thousands who would die between 1945 and the end of the Spanish dictatorship, although they were being very quiet about Gibraltar.

“We won’t betray their people,” he said finally. “General, when can you begin the offensive?”

“It’s hard to say for certain what Himmler is thinking,” Cunningham said. “They’re being very careful about hiding what they’re doing from our satellites, but it seems like they are concentrating on developing a defence line, as close to the border with us as possible. If they work on the best possible options, that line will be several miles deep, and have powerful mobile forces in place.”

“Assuming that they have powerful mobile forces left,” Truman said.

Cunningham nodded. “Assuming that everything goes to plan, which it won’t, I intend to launch the next step in a week, an all-out Blitzkrieg towards Berlin. We’ll hammer their line to death, and then punch through, sealing off the fortress cities – which is what the PJHQ analysts believe that the Germans are trying to do in the cities. We’ll deploy small forces to prevent the Germans from trying to cut our lines, but they won’t be able to challenge us head-on.”

He adjusted the map; a red arrow ran directly to Berlin. “Exactly what happens in Berlin is a political decision,” he said. “My own preference would be to seal the city and wait for it to surrender, but that would take time. Attempting to take the city directly would be very bloody indeed.”

“There’s always Rommel’s plan,” McLachlan said thoughtfully.

“Perhaps,” Hanover said. He sighed. “General, what about Russia?”

Cunningham nodded. “It would depend on what Stalin does,” he said. “We expect that Stalin will not attempt to interfere and save the Germans – and if he thinks he can do that he has an unpleasant shock coming – but instead dig in his own defences.” He shook his head. “I can’t make any definite plans for the invasion of Russia; a lot depends on how the battle for Germany concludes.”

“I understand,” Hanover said. “General, please expedite matters as fast as you can. I have a nasty feeling that Himmler hasn’t run out of tricks.”