Storm Front (Twilight of the Gods Book 1) (6 page)

“Do it,” their father agreed, stepping into the room carrying a pair of bottles in one hand.  “If you want to be lazy, you can go join the
Luftwaffe
and sit on your bottom all day.”

“I
like
flying,” Johan protested.  “I’m going to sign up for the
Luftwaffe
next year.”

Gudrun smiled.  “You might not learn how to fly,” she needled.  She’d looked up the figures when one of her fellow students had started to date a pilot.  “For everyone who gets accepted for pilot training, there’s three or four who get accepted for work on the ground.  That’s not
quite
as impressive.”

Johan’s face fell.  “But I’m a natural pilot.”

“The
Luftwaffe
needs more than just pilots,” their father said.  He gave Gudrun a look that sent her scurrying back into the kitchen, just as Kurt arrived, still wearing his uniform.  “And if you learn how to maintain a fighter jet, Johan, you will have something to build on when you return to civilian life.”

“I’m going to become an astronaut,” Johan said.  Gudrun could still hear him, even over the sound of sizzling sausages.  “If I manage to do well as a pilot, I can put in for space training and go to the moon.”

Gudrun smirked as she took the sausages and carried them back into the dining room, her mother following her with the vegetables.  Johan was hardly alone in wanting to fly aircraft - a third of the boys she’d known in school had had the same ambition - but the odds were against him.  And if he
did
manage to join the
Luftwaffe
without actually becoming a pilot, he’d be forever branded a REMF, rather than a fighter.  His chances of winning the hearts and bodies of countless girls, as he had seen on television programs, would be sharply reduced.

“This is Victory Day,” her father said, once the food had been served and the beer had been poured.  “Let us remember, just for a moment, how we became the most powerful nation in the world.”

Now tell me
, Gudrun thought. 
Is that actually true
?

It wasn't a pleasant thought, but it had to be faced.  The state had lied, at least once, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn't think of anything that disproved her theory that Konrad wasn't the only wounded soldier to be kept away from his family.  And if the state had lied once, who knew what
else
it had lied about?  How much of what she’d been taught had been a lie?  She was pretty sure they couldn't have lied about basic maths - she could
prove
that two plus two equalled four - but it was a great deal easier to lie about the social subjects.  Had there really been a great war?

Grandpa Frank fought in the war
, she thought.  He was hardly the only old man with a military background.  She had several friends who had elderly relatives living with them or staying in veteran homes. 
So there must have been a war.  But what really happened?

She ate her food slowly, barely tasting the sausages and potatoes as she thought.  What could she do?  Konrad’s family might make a fuss, if she told them the truth, but it was equally possible they’d report her for sneaking into a hospital.  She could keep it to herself, yet the part of her that loved Konrad wanted to do
something
about his case.  But what?  If she tried to protest herself, she’d wind up in an asylum, if she was lucky.

“I need to speak to you,” her father said, once the dinner was over.  Gudrun had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed that the meal was coming to an end.  “You too, Kurt.”

Kurt gave Gudrun a sharp look as their father rose to his feet.  Gudrun shrugged; their father might know they’d slipped out of the house, but he didn't know where they’d been.  As long as they stuck to the cover story, they’d be safe.  Or so she hoped.  If the nurse Kurt had been trying to flirt with reported their presence, after he stood her up, the SS might start looking for a pair of intruders.  And if they got lucky, they might catch her before she could tell anyone what they’d seen.

Two more days of parades
, she thought,
and then I can go back to university.  And then...

She sucked in her breath.  Officially, the university was politically neutral.  Unofficially, students talked all the time.  They were, after all, among the smartest people in the
Reich
; many of them had worked hard to escape conscription by passing the exams and winning a place in the university.  And almost all of the students would know at least one person in the military.  How many students had seen a relative go to South Africa and not return?

But it wasn't something she dared discuss with Kurt.  Who knew
which
side he’d take?

Talk to the students
, she told herself, as she led the way into her father’s office.  She had a feeling her father would just tell them both off, but there was no point in dawdling. 
And then decide what to do next
.

Chapter Five

American Embassy, Berlin

19 July 1985

“Well,” Ambassador Samuel Turtledove said.  “Thoughts?”

Andrew allowed himself a smile.  Ambassador Turtledove had no time for the persistent rivalry between the Office of Strategic Services, the Central Intelligence Agency and the Defence Intelligence Agency, to say nothing of the military itself.  They were, after all, right in the heart of Berlin, in the first building that would fall if war ever broke out between the North Atlantic Alliance and the Third
Reich
.  There was literally no time for inter-service rivalry or disagreements.  Everyone in the room was cleared to hear everything up to TOP SECRET and beyond.

“It was an impressive show,” he said, as he accepted a cup of coffee from the Ambassador’s aide.  “I counted over thirty long-range heavy bombers in a single fly-past.  They certainly
look
as though they can reach New York.”

“Assuming they don’t get bounced halfway there,” General William Knox pointed out.  The military attaché frowned down at the photographs the observers had taken during the parade and placed on the table.  “We still have fighter bases up and down the east coast, despite the best efforts of Congress.  The Brits have their fighters too.”

“One would assume the Brits would have other things to worry about, if war broke out,” Andrew said, mildly.  “But I tend to agree.  The long-range bomber isn't a major threat unless they build them in far greater numbers.”

“Which leads to the obvious question,” the Ambassador said.  “
Can
they build them in far greater numbers?”

Andrew looked at Penelope Jameson, who shrugged.  “The German economy is a mess, Mr. Ambassador,” she said.  The CIA had attached her to the Berlin Office as an expert in economics and charged her with gauging the strength of the German economy.  It wasn't a task Andrew envied her.  “I honestly think that most Germans are unaware of just how badly their economy is performing, certainly when compared to ours.  Funding a few hundred long-range bombers would be very difficult right now.”

“Particularly as they would be of limited value in South Africa,” Knox said.

“Perhaps not,” Andrew said.  “They can fly well above the Stinger-A’s range, can't they?”

He smiled as Knox - and Robert Hamilton - grimaced in unison.  The OSS had been pressing the President to send Stinger-B and Stinger-C missiles to the South Africans, even though there was a very real risk that one or more units would fall into German hands and be reverse-engineered.  He understood their concerns, but there was a very real opportunity to bleed the Germans white using the missiles.  Shooting down a handful of heavy bombers would hurt the
Reich
more than killing a few hundred soldiers on deployment. 

And if war does break out
, he thought,
there will be fewer bombers to make their way to New York
.

“They’re not exactly equipped for tactical support,” Knox said, after a moment.  “Their smart weapons are considerably inferior to our own.”

“We
think
,” Andrew reminded him.  “The
gauchos
probably didn't know how to use their weapons to best advantage.”

“They would have set up a display and shown off their merchandise if they could,” Penelope said, quietly.  “Their economy took a hit when the Falklands War went so badly for the side using German weapons.”

“Serve them right,” the Ambassador said.  He cleared his throat.  “Was there anything new in the parade, any potential game changers?”

“Probably not,” Andrew said.  “The latest tank design was a modified Panther VII, their main battle tank.  I don't think we have to worry about a revolutionary new tank appearing on the battlefields in a few years.”

“They also modified a handful of older Panzer XIs,” Hamilton added.  “It’s hard to be sure, but it looks like they took off the main guns and added several machine guns to the vehicles.”

“Probably for counter-insurgency work,” Knox grunted.  He picked up one of the photographs and held it out.  “We know they’ve been taking losses in South Africa, Mr. Ambassador.  My best guess is that they’re adapting their weapons and armour to cope with the threat.”

Which isn't likely to go away anytime soon
, Andrew thought. 
The blacks know they have to fight and perhaps die, rather than doing nothing and certainly dying.

He shuddered at the thought.  The
Reich’s
population might be blissfully unaware of what had been done in their name, but everyone else knew all too well what Adolf Hitler had unleashed upon the world.  He wouldn't have bet a rusty dollar that the blacks would survive for long, if the Nazis claimed the country.  They’d be herded into concentration camps and brutally murdered.  Indeed, there were factions in South Africa that would happily support such a final solution, heedless of the possibility that the Nazis would shove
them
into the gas chambers next.

The Ambassador cleared his throat.  “Do you feel it’s likely they will double down in South Africa?”

Andrew hesitated.  “They made a mistake getting involved,” he said.  “We know that - and I suspect they know it too, now.  But I think their leadership will be reluctant to retreat from their positions in South Africa.  They’d see it as an admission of weakness.”

He looked up at the map.  The
Reich
bestrode the continent like a colossus, bright red ink soaking the land from Dunkirk to Kamchatka.  And yet, their control over their vast domains was tenuous, in places.  The settlements in Germany East were plagued by partisans, the Vichy French were restless and even their allies were looking for alternatives.  Andrew was sure that Turkey, at least, would jump ship if there was a reasonable chance of getting away with it, while Italy and Spain wouldn't be far behind.  Binding their economies to Germany had been a deadly mistake.

“Economically, they must be reaching their limits,” Penelope said.  “All my models suggest Germany will have to make major cutbacks within the next five years.”

“Your models may not take reality into account,” Knox pointed out.  He’d never liked Penelope, although Andrew had never figured out why.  “Surely they know how to fine-tune their own economy.”

“An economy is not a military unit, sir,” Penelope said.  “Nor is it a piece of balky machinery that can be fixed.  Fine-tuning an economy is simply impossible and trying to control it leads to disaster.  The communists discovered that in 1942.”

She took a breath.  “My models are, if anything, optimistic,” she added.  “I gave the Germans every advantage I could think of, sir; I assumed a level of central understanding and control that, quite frankly, is beyond the realm of possibility.  And yet, all of my models indicate a major collapse in less than five years unless something changes.”

Andrew frowned.  “They could be spoofing your results.”

“They could,” Penelope agreed.  “We have always had problems gauging the true power of the German economy.  However, if it was as good as they claimed, they’d have a much larger moon base and a few hundred additional spacecraft to stake their claims to the asteroids.”

“True,” Andrew agreed.

“It's also beside the point,” Knox said.  “Is the likelihood of war any stronger than it was two years ago?”

Maybe that’s why he doesn't like her
, Andrew thought. 
He understands the machines and tactics of war, but not economics
.

“The last set of discussions I had with the Foreign Minister were unenlightening,” the Ambassador said, calmly.  “He lodged an official complaint about our meddling in South Africa, I lodged a complaint of my own about German weapons shipments to radical factions in Latin and South America.  We had a long argument that boiled down to mutual denials that anything was actually happening.”

“And so anyone on the ground will vanish, if they get caught,” Andrew said.

“We do it too,” Hamilton reminded him.  “Any German
advisor
caught in Panama goes straight into a black prison for interrogation, not held for trade.”

Andrew nodded, ruefully.  The threat of mutual destruction - Germany and the United States each had over 10,000 nuclear warheads - had made it impossible for either side to risk seeking a final war to decide the fate of the planet.  Instead, Germany had started running weapons and supplies to radical groups in Latin America, while America had supplied Russian, French and South African insurgents with weapons of their own.  But German brutality made it impossible for them to end the war on anything other than total victory, while the United States could use a combination of hard and soft power to convince the undecided to support the Americans.  Mexico was more peaceful than it had been in years; Panama, the scene of a brutal insurgency, was calming down...

But the Germans can’t afford to treat anyone as equals
, he thought, darkly. 
They have to exterminate their enemies to win, which makes it impossible for their enemies to surrender.

Knox looked at Penelope, sharply.  “What happens if the German economy
does
collapse?”

“It’s hard to be sure,” Penelope said.  “I think we’d be looking at something akin to the Great Depression, but probably a great deal worse.  The German economy is more integrated than ours was in the thirties.”

“And then they will go to war,” Knox said, grimly.  “Hitler saw war as the solution to Germany’s woes.  War will distract their people from their empty bellies.”

“They’d have to be out of their minds,” Hamilton said.  “We have the AMERICA SHIELD, do we not?”

“The system isn't perfect,” Knox reminded him.  “If the Germans throw every last one of their missiles at us in a single volley, will the shield stop them all?”

“We’d certainly have a better chance of survival than
they
would,” Hamilton snapped.  “What the bombs didn't destroy would be wiped out by their slaves afterwards.”

“And a full-scale nuclear war might well destroy the entire world,” Penelope said.  “Nuclear winter will finish off the survivors.”

Andrew shook his head in grim horror.  “Perhaps they won’t see it that way,” he said.  “They may view mutual destruction as a victory, of sorts.”

The Ambassador held up a hand.  “What are their alternatives?”

“Cut their cloak to suit their cloth,” Penelope said.  “They’ll have to make massive - and painful - budget cuts.”

“Which they can’t, for political reasons,” Knox commented.  “They’re committed to trying to keep up with us.”

Andrew sighed, inwardly.  The Germans
had
been fearsome - and they still were - but they’d also been very good at projecting an illusion that they were stronger than they were.  The CIA had yet to recover from taking some of the German claims at face value, back in the sixties, and terrifying Congress into authorising a colossal military build-up.  Now, it was the Germans who were struggling to stay in the race...

Assuming we’re correct
, he reminded himself. 
The buggers have got themselves caught in an elephant trap
.

“Maybe it would be a good time to propose limits to military spending,” the Ambassador said, calmly.  “Let them off as lightly as we can.”

“It was tried, back in the seventies,” Knox said.  “We caught them cheating.”

“Back when it looked as though we would lose Mexico,” Hamilton said.  “We faced the same dilemma the Germans are facing now.  Do they cut their losses and admit defeat or up the ante?”

He shrugged.  “Our ability to influence their decision-making process
is
rather limited.”

“I have to speak to the President,” the Ambassador said.  “Do we try to take advantage of their problems or do we commit ourselves to doing nothing?”