The Long Hard Road

Chapter Eighteen: Considering The Issue

Ten Downing Street

London, United Kingdom

23^rd April 1942

“Yes, Mr President,” Hanover said, speaking into the secured phone. “We received the offer of a ceasefire too.”

Truman’s voice was dry. “General Patton has been asking for orders,” he said. “Do we let the bastards escape to Denmark?”

“It would be cheaper than digging them out,” Hanover said, scowling. He’d hoped to keep the news secret, but Germany had made that impossible. Simply by broadcasting the entire message, the BBC had picked up on it even as they were studying the message from Stewart.

“True, I suppose,” Truman said. “Ambassador King is very against making peace with Germany, and of course peace with Russia is politically impossible.”

Hanover nodded, forgetting that Truman couldn’t see him. “It’s a trick,” he said. “The governments of the countries he named are all very pro-German anyway, even the French. Did you notice the attachments he sent back with Stewart’s message? If we agree, we will not be allowed to land any troops to guarantee their independence, such as it is.”

“And not a word about Russia,” Truman said. “Tell me; how much danger is there of them managing to lift an atomic weapon on one of those rockets?”

“None,” Hanover said confidently. “Even if they succeeded in making one, it would be a while before they managed to make one small enough to put in a rocket.”

“They’ll be working up on scaling up the design, wouldn’t they?” Truman said. “Might they succeed in hitting the United States?”

“I don’t believe that they could,” Hanover assured him. “They can launch long-range rockets, but their guidance systems are clearly not perfect yet.”

“I hope you’re right,” Truman said. “What sort of response are you going to send?”

“Parliament has insisted on voting on the matter,” Hanover said. He scowled; Mortimer had insisted upon it, and he had been able to convince enough of the Opposition that the vote had passed. “That should happen later today.”

Truman chuckled. “Congress has already issued its opinion,” he said. “No peace with Russia; peace with Germany only on our terms.”

“God bless America,” Hanover said wryly. “Do you intend to make the refusal permanent?”

“Yes,” Truman said. “In fact, I would like to launch B-29 strikes against Germany and targets in France, just to make our refusal clear.”

Hanover smiled. “That would seem like a good idea,” he said, thinking rapidly. A thought struck him and he cursed. “Can you hold off until after the Parliament has voted?” He asked. “They might not be happy.”

Truman made a frustrated noise. Hanover understood; if Britain was forced to leave the war, America would be forced to slog its way through Finland, something that would strain even American logistics to the limit. Even with the SAS teams working in Finland, it would be tricky beyond belief.

“I’ll order the bombing force to be ready,” Truman said finally. Hanover didn’t argue. “They have the IFF transmitters, so there’s no chance that your missiles will mistake them for a German aircraft.”

“That’s a good thing,” Hanover said dryly. Whatever the weaknesses of German air defences, the radar-guided British machine guns would have slaughtered anything without a proper IFF that looked like a German plane. “We’ll send the launch signal as soon as Parliament has voted.”

Truman snorted. “How long will that take?”

“I don’t know,” Hanover admitted. “The Speaker has proven agreeable to a quick debate; only myself, the Leader of the Opposition and that rat bastard Mortimer.” And Hanover thought cold thoughts about him. “Once that’s done, we’ll issue the orders and launch the retaliatory strike.”

“Good luck,” Truman said. “Over and out.”

Houses of Parliament

London, United Kingdom

23^rd April 1942

“We don’t want to accept the peace offer as it stands,” Elspeth said firmly. Travis Mortimer lifted a single eyebrow as his valet checked his suit and tie. “It’s too much like appeasement.”

“It’s a way of offering a peace deal,” Mortimer said. “We can negotiate, can we not?”

“Yes, but what do we want from Germany that Himmler will give us without a war?” Elspeth asked dryly. She counted off on her fingers. “We want them to withdraw from their conquests, stop exterminating the Jews and install a democratic government, ideally one without any nuclear ambitions. Now… how many of them will Himmler give us?”

“Probably only the first one,” Mortimer said.

“Precisely,” Elspeth said. She smiled wryly as the valet left the room. “only someone as stupid as that reporter could believe otherwise.”

Mortimer scowled at her. “I thought she was cute,” he said.

“It’s a wonder we let you think that you’re running the world,” Elspeth said. Mortimer faked a slap at her. “Naughty boy.”

Mortimer glared. “We have to end the war,” he said. “Our society will not stand a rain of missiles.”

“We cannot end the war except by accepting a democratic German government,” Elspeth said. “We have to bring that about as soon as possible, or that bastard Hanover will build the British Empire again under cover of the war.”

Mortimer shook his head slowly. He didn’t care about the Empire, except that it had been an imperial undertaking and therefore bad by definition. If the Indian Provisional Government wanted to keep British forces in the country, as they certainly seemed to want to do, he found it hard to argue – as long as the Indians paid for the deployment.

He scowled. Sooner or later, Hanover would overreach… and there were too many unanswered questions around the conduct of the war. The war itself was popular, but some decisions had been… questionable.

“My brother would have wanted that,” he said, and scowled. Captain Jake Mortimer had been a British zealot. He’d seen the Transition as an opportunity of limitless… well, opportunity. “He was enjoying the war… until Hanover’s incompetence cost him his life.”

“He was my brother too,” Elspeth reminded him dryly. They’d never gotten on. “The point is simple; we want power, and we have to be careful to ensure that we get it.”

Mortimer shuddered. His sister’s naked ambition was disconcerting at times. “We have to stand for reform and justice,” he said firmly. “If we cannot argue for the peace agreement” – Elspeth shook her head, she was fiendishly intelligent at times – “then we must keep channels of negotiation open.”

Traditionally, MPs would remain bunched up in their parties, exchanging comments, questions, or merely discussing the weather. As they filed into the main chamber of the House of Commons, they exchanged covert glances of concern or amusement. Many of them had benefited from the measures taken to combat a social collapse, in the weeks following the Transition, and they didn’t want the war to end. Others hated the war and wanted it over, whatever the cost.

Hanover, dressed in a dark suit he felt suited him, smiled to himself. The global peacenik movement of people who felt that the world would be fine if everyone showed a little tolerance had never really existed. It had been a uniquely western delusion, like the international solidarity of the Workers and Peasants. The young band of idiots who’d rescued Trotsky had chosen to believe that their hero was a genuine communist, a flat figure of stage and screen.

Hanover grinned. The real Trotsky had been intelligent, intelligent enough to admit that he’d gotten it wrong. The latest report had the teams in Russia burying deeper and deeper into the power structure, hacking away at Stalin’s rule. Inserting small teams into the Ukraine had only made matters worse; the Ukrainians were almost in open revolt. Ten NKVD battalions were tied down in the Ukraine, trying to keep the peace.

If the entire northern hemisphere and a large part of the southern hemisphere becomes democratic on our terms, we might just be looking at peace in our time, Hanover thought. It would have been the culmination of the project that had started back when the Transition had offered them a second chance. Confronting the real axis of evil had only strengthened Britain… and while the long hard road still lay ahead, success was certain now.

Madam Speaker called for order. She had been the only person to survive the near-collapse of the Labour Party, an achievement of her own strict neutrality in debates. Hanover scowled; she had allowed Mortimer to speak, even though he should not technically have been permitted to take part in a short debate, followed by a vote. Hanover shrugged; it hardly mattered at the moment.

“Gentlepeople of the House, I ask for your attention,” she said, her voice rising above the din. “We are gathered here to vote on a German peace proposal” – she outlined the terms in both the public and private communications – “and to decide if we will accept these terms. I call upon the Right Honourable Sir Charles Hanover to speak.”

Hanover stood up. “As the Speaker has informed you, there were two components to the German offer; the open one, that they would restore independence to their subject nations, and the private, that they would attach some conditions to their peace agreement. In effect, as Madam Speaker said, their peace offer is contingent upon us accepting their terms, which include abandoning France, Spain, Italy and Poland to their economic dominance permanently.

“Yes, the Germans have promised to withdraw from those nations,” he said. The Germans had said nothing about the Netherlands or Belgium. “However, those nations are dominated by fascists, even without German support. Furthermore, the German arrangement of Europe after they learnt about the future has made them even more dependent upon Germany… whatever shape or form their government may take in the future. In effect, they are asking us to accept a permanent German domination of Europe… or else.

“And what, you might ask, is the ‘or else?’ The Germans have threatened both us and the Americans with long-range missiles, weapons that cannot carry much in the way of high explosives, or disease. Even if they do resort to bio-warfare, we have the ability to counter any such attack; our medical science is far more capable than it was in 1940.

“You might ask why Himmler has made this offer now,” he concluded. “Why? Could it be that he knows that Nazi Germany, which depends on slaves and slave labour to survive, is coming to the end of its career? In Sweden, we are evicting the Nazis and we will soon evict their dark allies, the Soviet Union. In Iran, we are forcing the Soviet Union out of the country they have laid waste to, and we will finish the war soon. With our superiority in weapons, once we get a major force on the continent, the war will be over.”

He looked around the room. “I am old enough to remember when the Allies chose to let Saddam Hussian off with his crimes,” he said. “I am old enough to remember what that cost us before the war on terror ended. Please – do not repeat that mistake. With German-controlled territory so close, we might not survive the next round.”

He sat down. “I call upon the Leader of the Opposition,” Madam Speaker said. Hanover watched as Kenneth Barton stood up; he looked older than he had been. A sudden challenge from Mortimer had been his worst nightmare. He had been briefed in by Hanover’s government – a standard courtesy for the Opposition during wartime – and Hanover knew how weak that made him, politically.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, members of the house, I will be brief,” Barton said. “I will not deny that some factions of His Majesty’s Opposition have been in favour of ending the war, whatever the cost.” Hanover smiled at the less-than subtle dig at Mortimer. “However, I myself have been aware of the events in Europe, and we have a moral duty to intervene to stop them. Across the continent, some of our descendents have been placed in gas chambers, or worked to death for the nazi war machine.”

Hanover, whom knew that most of Hitler’s victims in the changed timeline had met the second fate, nodded grimly to himself. Barton was pushing every button he could; in basic agreement with the government, but not quite part of it.

“Himmler will be worse than Hitler,” Barton said. “Unlike Hitler, he is smart and capable; the testimony of the captured Germans makes that clear. We have to stop him before he develops a nuclear weapon – he already has the delivery system.” Like Hanover, he looked around the chamber, meeting Hanover’s eyes for a long moment. “Experience tells us that none-democratic governments cannot be trusted with nuclear weapons; how many more must die in this timeline before we remove the weapons from Himmler’s control?”

Hanover heard the sigh from across the benches. “I oppose any agreement with the pure evil that Nazi Germany represents,” Barton concluded. “I will not vote for this… sham of a peace offer; I will vote for war until this cancer is burned out of our system!”

Barton sat down. The ranks of the assembled MPs buzzed with chatter. “If I may have your attention, please,” Madam Speaker said. “By special petition, Travis Mortimer has been granted the right to speak before this assembly, before the vote has been cast.”

The chamber erupted with comments. Some Conservative backbenches stood up to protest; Hanover waved them back into their seats. Madam Speaker gravelled hard as the Opposition benches turned on each other, exchanging angry accusations at their pre-emption. Hanover smiled to himself; Mortimer had damaged the Opposition and they would be far less willing to deal with him later.

Idiot, he thought coldly, and smiled.

“Travis Mortimer may stand,” Madam Speaker said firmly, and sealed the fate of her own political career. Hanover knew that before the day was out the backbenchers would be screaming for her impeachment. “Silence!”

Silence fell, broken only by the vague mutterings of mass rebellion. Mortimer stood up; Hanover noted to himself that Mortimer looked… strained. He might survive Madam Speaker’s indiscretion, but the House would not forget. It never liked a loser, or a sneak.

Just like school, Hanover thought, and watched Mortimer grimly. The Labour politician swept his hair back, taking time to concentrate his thoughts.

“Thank you for permitting me to address you,” Mortimer said. His voice, whatever the shocks he’d suffered, was firm. “I believe that we have been offered an opportunity here, one that cannot be ignored just because we find the terms unpalatable. Is it not a truth that people always ask for more than they will settle for in the opening stages of negotiation?”

Neat one, kid, Hanover thought, without hatred. It was a good point, he conceded, but not one that could be allowed to stand.

“I quite agree that the terms Himmler has offered are unacceptable,” Mortimer said calmly. “My objection is simple; why should we not try to see if we can get better terms? We should force them to give up on nuclear research, yes, and we should force them to end the extermination camps; all of which we might get if we offered it to them.

“Madam Speaker, if the vote for rejecting Himmler’s offer of a truce fails, I would like to propose a week-long period to make a counter-offer,” Mortimer continued, and was drowned out by the roar of outrage from both sides of the house. Whatever the merits of his suggestion, Conservatives and Liberals found themselves in agreement on one thing; Mortimer had no right to make them.

“That is not a legitimate point of order for this house,” Madam Speaker said, trying to curry favour with the house. “Does the member wish to propose a private member’s bill?”

Mortimer shook his head. “No, thank you,” he said. Hanover smiled; clearly Mortimer could see that there was no point in playing out a losing hand.

“Then we can proceed with the vote,” Madam Speaker said. “Cast your votes ‘aye’ or ‘nay’ for rejecting the German peace terms.”

Hanover voted, and then watched as the numbers stacked up. The ‘ayes’ outnumbered the ‘nays’ by better than four to one.

“The German offer of a ceasefire will be rejected,” Madam Speaker said. “The war will go on.”

How melodramatic, Hanover thought disdainfully, as the session ended.

Hanover read the note one final time and smiled to himself. It would be transmitted to Portugal and then onwards to Germany, but it would also be broadcast over Germany. If they were lucky, Stalin and Himmler would have a major falling out over it; perhaps they would even end up shooting at each other.

Fuhrer Himmler; we categorically reject your offer of a truce and peace talks on your terms, which would have left you with control over Europe. Your government is vile; your methods of controlling the restless enslaved natives barbaric beyond belief. Your attempt at betraying your comrade – Comrade Josef Stalin – is pathetic; do you really believe that any civilised nation would abandon an entire continent to whichever of you wins your inevitable confrontation? Your choice is simple; you may offer your surrender, or you can fight to the last.

To the people of Germany – it is not too late. If you want to avoid the savage roar of war being fought on your soil, overthrow the Nazis and sue for peace. You will have to give up the lands you seized, but we will give you in return a just peace. The choice is yours… but time is running out.

Hanover smiled to himself. He would have found such a message infuriating; he was certain that Himmler would have found it maddening. Perhaps he would order an airborne invasion of Britain, one that would be shot to pieces without ever getting close to land. Perhaps he would purge the most imaginative German officers from their positions of power, ending their threat forever. Perhaps…

Hanover shrugged and picked up the phone, tapping the command that would connect him instantly to the American President. Truman picked up on the second ring; the phone line was directly to Washington, relayed through three satellites.

“This is Hanover,” Hanover said. “The peace was rejected, three to one.”

“Good,” Truman said. “Can the 5^th Air Force go into action?”

Hanover smiled. Even losing Bomber Harris hadn’t deterred people from believing that strategic bombing was a serious threat. Still, if the USAAF hammered German positions in France – giving the French a taste of war – they would be unable to react fast to the landing… when that began.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll inform the RAF and the other UKADR stations. Harry, give them hell.”

“That’s one order we will be delighted to follow,” Truman said wryly. He sounded relieved. “Perhaps it was a bad idea fighting you.”

Hanover snickered. “Silence colonial,” he said. “Now get back to being taxed without representation.”

Truman chuckled. “Up yours,” he said. Hanover laughed. “A good bombing raid should convince the Germans that their peace has been rejected.”