The Long Hard Road

Chapter Thirty: Dance of the Diplomats

Aldershot Army Base

United Kingdom

15^th May 1942

It had been the first time that Gunter Jagar had set foot in the future Britain, a world of marvels and magic, even to a former engineering student. The train that had transported them from Dover to the British Army base ran on principles he couldn’t understand; he had badgered the guard to tell him how it worked. For a long time, he felt as if he was a curious innocent child, free from all debts and obligations.

The feeling ended when they reached the special station, which was along a private rail line that was for the military and important government business only, according to their escort. Sergeant Kettle, who’d been asked to accompany them, hadn’t said much about it, beyond the fact that the existence of a large part of the rail network was unknown to a large percentage of the population.

“How are they to know that there are more lines for any single main line than they could possibly grasp?” He’d asked, when Jagar had asked why. “They don’t understand the concept at all; to them it is all wooden railways or electric railways, but how many of them have more than a handful of trains?”

He’d begun a long story about a schoolmaster he’d had who played with modal railways, constructing one of great complexity that had awed the children, but Jagar hadn’t been paying attention. The wonders of the British countryside were nothing special to a man who’d been born in Bavaria, but the technology on view, as if it were cheap and simple, was awesome.

The train stopped in a special station, one that was hidden by woodlands, and Kettle led them along the path into a building, also half-hidden by trees. They could hear the distant, but very recognisable sounds of men training for combat, but they couldn’t see them.

“This is the servants entrance?” Rommel asked, breaking his long silence. Jagar hadn’t dared to disturb him; he’d been wrapped in contemplation during the entire train journey. “We come as common supplicants?”

“Not at all, General,” General Flynn said. Jagar flinched in alarm; they hadn’t even seen him hidden under the awning. “This is one of the little places we don’t tell the public about, just to keep the press off our doorstep.”

He led them inside, taking care to take their coats as they passed through a security barrier. “I trust that we can rely on your discretion,” he said. “This is regarded as one of the most secure places in Britain, purely because of its unknown nature. With PJHQ at Northwood and Main Building near Whitehall, the press and the pack of reporters have plenty of places to besiege.”

“This is a very Spartan building,” Rommel said. He sounded approving. “Do you entertain politicians here?”

Flynn chuckled. “Not in the slightest,” he said. “You have been brought here for a reason; Colonel Muhlenkampf can handle the task of bringing the main Bundeswehr force back to the forward base in Britain.”

Rommel lifted an eyebrow as they stepped into a big meeting room. It was comfortable, in a strange shabby way. “I was under the impression that the Bundeswehr force was not going to be allowed to come to Britain,” he said. “Have circumstances changed?”

“Yes,” General Cunningham said. Jagar studied the burly general, so different from Flynn or Rommel’s tall frame. Instinctively, he knew that Cunningham would smash through any problems, no matter what they were. “Won’t you and your aide take a seat?”

Rommel took a seat, waving Jagar to the seat next to him. Cunningham didn’t sit; he paced over to the end of the table and activated a display screen, revealing a map of Europe. Tactical icons – German, French, Italian, and Spanish – dominated the scene. A large number were grouped in France; a second group were bunched around Denmark; a third were stationed along the Soviet-German border.

“I have to inform you that this meeting is strictly under the highest security,” Cunningham said. Jagar considered their isolated rustic location and wasn’t convinced. “The invasion of Europe is planned for the 1^st of June.”

Jagar gasped and felt Rommel stiffen beside him. He wasn’t sure how to think; he knew that the Nazis had to be destroyed, but at the same time he found it hard to be sanguine about a war being fought over all of Germany.

“The basic plan is simple,” Cunningham continued. “On the 1^st, elements of the SAS and SBS, supported by the new trainees and paratroopers, will attempt to seize the docks in the Netherlands; hopefully expanding their control over most of the country, as far as Amsterdam and Rotterdam. They will be supported by the most intensive air attacks ever mounted, using satellite guided weapons to hammer away at the Wehrmacht and Luftwaffe units within the region. A careful program of disinformation has attempted to convince the Germans that the target is in fact Normandy.

“In the event of a success, we intend to place ten British divisions and twenty American divisions into the Netherlands during the day,” he said. The map altered to show the progression. “Again, none of the units involved know the real target, but we have trained them as best as we can for the task at hand. While we imagine that Himmler will seek to counter-attack, we have great faith in aerial interdiction; almost everything in the RAF’s and USAAF’s inventory is being turned over to the mission. As soon as our lodgement is secure, we will leave the Netherlands, and advance.”

The display changed again. “We will have to deploy some units to the West Wall, just to prevent a counter-attack from that region, but almost everything else will head directly for Berlin. We won’t attack cities directly; we’ll do what we can to seal them off and trap whatever forces remain in the cities. Once we reach Berlin, we plan to take the city and hopefully Himmler, before moving on to the east.”

“You’re talking about travelling… several hundred miles in a very short space of time,” Rommel observed. “Are you that confident in your ability to bomb everything out of your way?”

“Pretty much,” Flynn said. “Unless the Luftwaffe has made a genuine quantum leap, the worst threat will be radar-guided guns, and we have missiles designed to take them out. I won’t say that it will be easy – this is very different from the Middle East – but we can do it.”

“And then I presume that you intend to march on to Moscow,” Rommel said. “Do you have any idea of how long and difficult that would be, even if you faced no opposition?”

“Yes,” Flynn said. “In fact…”

“Other options are being explored,” Cunningham interrupted. “We’re not at liberty to discuss them. However, you may be wondering why we asked you to come here.”

Rommel smiled. “It seems as if you don’t need us,” he said. “The proud Bundeswehr force does not seem to have any role at all in events.”

Cunningham shook his head. “We understand that fighting in Germany might be difficult for many in the Bundeswehr force,” he said. “However, we have two separate missions for you, if you can undertake them.” Rommel nodded. “The first one is that we would like to have two of your Panzer divisions attached to the main force for the attack on Berlin,” Cunningham said.

Rommel nodded. “Assuming that someone with a working brain doesn’t overthrow Himmler and surrender, I think we can help. We’ll have to, just to live with ourselves afterwards.”

“The second mission is a little more complicated,” Cunningham said. “We would like you to handle police duties and accept surrenders from forces which we hope will be cut off by the advance.” He tapped the display. “The SS, we suspect, will fight to the end, but we have hopes that the regular Wehrmacht units will surrender to you, particularly under promise of good treatment. Resistance, we hope, will be minimal; the Werewolves might not fight against you.”

Rommel nodded again. Jagar frowned; the original Werewolves had been ineffectual, but many of the SS, which would form the Werewolves, regarded the Bundeswehr as traitors. Rommel’s broadcasts, on the shape of the post-war world, would not be pleasing to the SS, even if it was far more than Germany had gotten in the original timeline.

“I hope that they will not be treated harshly,” Rommel said. “It wasn’t an easy decision for me, let alone many others in the Bundeswehr.”

Cunningham nodded. “They will have to go into POW camps until we can sort out the war criminals from them,” he said. “With Ambassador Ernst Schulze organising a post-war administration for the first few years, everything should go smoothly without ever having to compromise with hardcore Nazis.”

“I have a point,” Rommel said. “There are units of the Wehrmacht near the Soviet border. If Himmler or someone else surrenders, we can expect Stalin to launch an attack against them, just to prevent them being aimed at them. What will you do about that?”

Cunningham considered. Jagar wondered if they’d realised that that would be a problem. “We would attempt to help units that had communicated their surrender to us,” he said. “However, you do understand that logistics would not be perfect?”

“Logistics are the bane of strategists,” Rommel said wryly. “They defeated the attack in the Middle East, after all.”

“We will attempt to help them,” Cunningham promised. “Do you see any other problem with the invasion plans?”

Rommel considered. “We can expect that Himmler will throw everything he has at you,” he said. “Do you have sufficient anti-aircraft firepower to hold them back from the landing zones?”

“A good point,” Flynn said. “We hope so; our radars are far better than anything they might use, and most of the bottlenecks have been overcome. Five hundred RAF fighters, nearly a thousand American Hellcats and Mustangs, and every ship will have automated anti-aircraft machine guns. It’s going to be a nightmare, but the computers can cope.”

“I hope you’re right,” Rommel said. “In the Battle of Britain, we – they – overwhelmed you by force of numbers alone.”

“It’s a different situation,” Cunningham said. “In 2015, or 1940, we expected to face attacks by handfuls of jet aircraft, assuming that we ever fought a conventional war at all. Now our defences have been adapted, the only real threat are those missiles, and they’re a pain rather than a real threat.”

Rommel smiled. “I hope you have reason to be confident,” he said. Jagar frowned inwardly; he knew that meat hooks would be the least that the Bundeswehr soldiers could expect if they lost and were captured. “Now, shall we discuss the details of the offensive?”

They started to discuss the long complex process of landing troops. Jagar was impressed with the logistics programs; they were so capable, they might have made communism work. Thousands of ships, from roll-on, roll-off ships, to car ferries to American liberty ships, had been amassed for the offensives. Thousands of tanks and nearly two hundred thousand soldiers were being prepared for the offensive, gathered at camps all over Britain.

“This will be very chancy,” Rommel said afterwards. “How are your people taking the preparations for the invasion?”

Cunningham snorted. “There is a lot of anti-German feeling now,” he said.

“That’s why you kept the Bundeswehr away from the public,” Rommel said, without resentment. Jagar admired his calm. “You don’t want an incident.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Flynn said. He sounded sincere. “Your men fought well during Redemption and the final attacks on the Russians in Iran.”

“Think nothing of it,” Rommel said. “It’s to erase the stain on Germany’s honour, not to do anything for you and your Commonwealth.”

There was an uncomfortable pause. “We understand your position,” Cunningham said finally. “Now, what about lunch?”

German Embassy

London, United Kingdom

15^th May 1942

Ambassador Marcel Duchamp glowered as he walked past the police guard and entered the German embassy. It was ludicrous; the Germans were threatening all of Europe, and the German embassy was the centre of the plans for the new post-war Europe. Duchamp scowled; between the British and their… Commonwealth, there would be nothing left of the French Empire, no chance for France to develop to superpower status. Australia had seized French territory in the Pacific; Indochina would go independent – and communist, he was sure – and Algeria… the British had turned it into part of their empire.

Duchamp’s face grew even darker. He knew that elements within the French embassy had been shivering at the thought of having to deal with DeGaulle, who would have led the Free French movement. In the week since learning of their fate, he had devised plans to have DeGaulle killed and then having it blamed on the Germans, before realising that DeGaulle had vanished along with Churchill and the Britain of 1940. Petain, however, was worse; France was now a full member of the Axis of Evil… and the British were dealing with the Germans!

He glared at the German secretary as she led him into the meeting room. The British had permitted the creation of a German army – and a post-war administration under a known Eurosceptic – which would ruin France still further. There would be no socialist European Union; no attempt to prove that France was right, whatever the cost to economic growth. France would become a backwater, the Germans would regain their power within a decade.

I knew that Hanover hated the European Union, he thought bitterly, but did he have to ruin France as well? He looked up; five other ambassadors were looking back at him. Not all ambassadors had survived the trip through time, for the simple reason that they’d not been in Britain at the time; the German, French, Italian, Spanish and Ukrainian ambassadors were present in the room. Absently, he wondered what had happened to the Japanese Ambassador, the wretched Sato woman.

He scowled, directing mental vitriol at Hanover. Only the German and Ukrainian ambassadors had been directly involved in shaping the post-war world. The others… had been sidelined.

“Thank you all for coming,” Ambassador Ernst Schulze said. He glanced around the room; the French Ambassador looked as sick as a dog. “I won’t mince words; the invasion of Europe through France is about to begin.”

“They have not asked our permission for such a move,” Duchamp snapped.

“I hardly think they need it,” the Spanish Ambassador said. Relations between Spain and France had been unpleasant following the Gibraltar Incident. “It’s not as if the government of Marshal Petain recognises you.”

“I have offered to go back there and convince them to surrender,” Duchamp snapped. “The glory of France is being held down and…”

Schulze tapped the table. “That’s beside the point,” he said. “The war will end soon, either through the Allies – which only includes General Rommel’s Bundeswehr from us – marching to Berlin, or though the use of nuclear weapons. Then… what will become of our countries?”

He looked around the room. “Most of you will be aware of the agreement we have made with the Allies,” he said. “Germany, at least, will have a limited military, and certain obligations regarding war crimes. On the other hand, there will not be an onerous occupation, nor will Germany be separated into two sections. The government will have strictly limited powers, including very little control over the commercial sphere and limited taxation powers.”

He smiled. “Germany is on course for an economic boom, after the war,” he concluded. “The question is; how many of you will come with us?”

Duchamp glared at him. “They have stripped us of our empires,” he snapped. “The Americans and the British will hardly let us build a European Union…”

“Well, not on your lines, anyway,” Schulze said. Duchamp flushed angrily. “Seriously, can any of you say that losing the empires is such a bad idea?” There was silence. “I mean, come on. The French fought for years in Algeria, and you know how that ended up. Did they not do us a favour?”

There was a long silence. “That’s beside the point,” Duchamp said finally. “They had no right to decide our fate for us.”

”And that’s the point of this meeting,” Schulze said. “President Truman and Prime Minister Hanover have become very close, a partnership of equals. In addition, the British are going to turn the British Commonwealth into a genuine association, one that will create a British trade zone, one that will be dominant over a vast percentage of the Earth. The Americans, meanwhile, have picked up most of the British investments in Latin America and South America, and they have started investment designed to create… well, a modified form of the NAFTA agreement. In Africa, the nation of South Africa, while a member of the British Commonwealth, has been working towards absorbing most of the former British colonies, building an empire of considerable wealth. In those regions, we will be locked out from trade, or influence, or anything.”

He looked around the world. “Decide our fate for us?” He asked. “This world… the Americans and the British will own it.”

He pulled a curtain away from the wall with a flourish. “This is their world,” he said. “They will rule everywhere, but Europe and Russia…”

Duchamp coughed. “Where is the Russian ambassador?”

“I think he went off to see Stalin and got killed,” Schulze said dryly. He was glad that he hadn’t done anything so stupid with Hitler. “This is their world,” he said again. “Now… where in there is for us?” He paused. “I know that they will deny us a space industry for at least twenty years and no military presence in space, ever. Our nations are regarded as enemy nations; can we allow that to continue?”

He took a breath. “Most of Europe will remain free from devastation by this war,” he said. “We would have a formidable base to build from, rebuilding the economy and developing new technologies. I believe that most of you have done as I have and stockpiled books and information; we can use that information, if we work together.” He coughed. “We can no longer allow a failed experiment in central government,” he said. “We have – we must – to allow free markets and free trade, without restrictions. I suspect that our taxation powers will be limited, which will prevent bureaucraty from becoming bloated.

“If we unite Europe in a federal state like this, perhaps not openly, we might be able to ensure that we end up with a voice in the world,” he concluded. “It will take time, perhaps as long as three decades, but we can do it. Will you work with me?”

Duchamp was the first to speak. “How do you know that our governments will listen to us?” He asked. “We are not their ambassadors, after all?”

Schulze blinked at hearing such a practical question from the French Ambassador. “The British and the Americans will be needing advice on stabilising the situation, once the war is at an end,” he said. He smiled. “Now tell me; who do you think they’ll turn to for that advice?”