“So what exactly did your agents achieve, Comrade?”
Stalin had a unique capacity to speak normal words and have them fall upon other’s ears full of threat and venom.
“Many German officers have been taken out of the equation by our agents, alleging war crimes, denouncing them as Nazis; there were even deaths from in-fighting. Anything which could spread disaffection and undermine their unity has been tried.”
Replacing his glasses, the NKVD Chairman rallied.
“Some of our men will have gone with these new units so their usefulness will be appreciated soon enough. Others will continue to spread disaffection amongst the German soldiery behind the lines.”
The General Secretary puffed deeply on his pipe, filling the space between them with a thick fug.
“I had expected more Lavrentiy, much more.”
Beria’s smugness had now departed and he bought himself time by pouring more tea for both men. He decided to stand his ground.
“As did I, Comrade General Secretary. However, we must not believe that operations are over. Far from it.”
A gentle cough to clear his throat and steady himself, and the NKVD boss carried on.
“Each agent is under orders to undermine relations between the German and Western Allied factions. We have yet to see this in action, as the German units were not yet formed. Each agent knows that Senior Allied commanders are to be eliminated where circumstances are favourable. We have yet to see this in action because the circumstances would not yet have existed. Each agent knows to sabotage but, yet again, they will not have been able to do so without the means and the freedom of operation. Obviously, betrayal of tactical plans and dispositions will happen when units reach the front line.”
Surprisingly boosted by his defence, Beria concluded.
“Comrade General Pekunin and I both agree that the effectiveness of our various agents will increase, and that results will only improve.”
Stalin, not wholly comfortable with Beria’s robust approach, shifted in his seat and leant forward, planting both elbows on the solid tsarist desk.
“Comrade Marshall, you and Pekunin assured me that you would disrupt the formation of any German units. And yet I now hear of ten divisions of their troops being made available to the Capitalists. That doesn’t sound like disruption to me; that sounds like failure.”
This time the venom was very real, and the threat decidedly meant.
“The pair of you had better come up with some results soon, or someone will be counting trees.”
Even though Beria knew it was impossible for his boss to do such a thing to him, and more to the point, Stalin knew he couldn’t do such a thing to his Chief of NKVD, the threat was very real. Stalin could not move Beria, as the Marshall had certain files that would prove ‘embarrassing’ to the General Secretary. He knew where all the bodies were buried and, as he had assisted in Stalin’s intrigue’s and plotting throughout the Georgian’s rise, he was privy to all the dirt.
What concerned him a lot was that, in the past, such people tended to disappear.
Beria fully intended that, if it came to it, it would not be he but Pekunin who ended up in a Katorga being worked to death.
Eisenhower had been up for some time. Technically he hadn’t been to bed, having fallen asleep in his comfy chair downstairs. His staff reduced their noise levels and let their boss sleep, knowing full well that the coming day would bring more pain and heartache.
A generous breakfast of Belgian waffles with eggs and bacon fortified the body, whilst coffee and nicotine boosted the mind for the trials of the day.
Ike knew that it would be a very difficult day indeed.
Already he had cut orders to newly arrived or reformed units, sending them not to front but to rear-line positions, making them ready to hold, hold, and hold.
His Generals were doing a magnificent job. Even Patton, hard-charging and impetuous, had his army in controlled retreat, hanging on to those either side and keeping the front line intact.
Hamburg still held, or at least some of it. McCreery’s boys were working miracles in defence and, by all accounts, giving Ivan one hell of a bloody nose.
And yet, a few miles from this excellence, a huge problem had arisen.
The 1st Canadian Division had been sundered west of Luneburg Heath, permitting what looked like a whole Russian Army Corps to move through the North German Plain and bear down on Bremen.
The Canadians, by dint of superhuman effort, threw in a counter-attack and halted one of the thrusts, that between Westerholz and Scheeßel, at the cost of half of their armour.
Despite this, the Division was withdrawing again, but this time showing an unruptured front to the hard pressing enemy.
Air had played their part too, inflicting casualties on the advancing tank columns and reducing the deficit in the balance of forces.
None the less, McCreery’s front still looked the most stable, certainly compared to the horror’s being visited upon Bradley.
The British General had sought and gained permission to use one of the German infantry units from Denmark and this was moving south to stiffen the line, freeing up other forces to bolster the Hamburg defence. It would be a close run thing.
Having spent the night preparing, Guderian had assured Ike that the German Republican Army would commence its move towards the Ruhr at first light. Reports confirmed that to be true, with two divisions moving swiftly ahead of the rest to secure the area.
This German commitment had allowed Eisenhower to free up resources, banishing his warring voices for the moment.
Whilst the situation was still dire, there were occasional glimmers of light in the darkness of retreat.
Although of limited use in the immediate, the promise of further support by Brazil was encouraging, as was the unexpected offer from Mexico to employ some of their divisions on security duties in the Caribbean, releasing more American units for the frontlines.
The Spanish Division promised by Franco had yet to materialise, and General Grandes had been embarrassed to report that it probably would not cross the frontier for at least another seven days, possibly more. That obviously meant that the Spanish Corps would be delayed for a far greater time and Eisenhower forced it from his thinking.
Again the British had come up trumps, finding that thousands of returning POW’s volunteered to go to the front again. This meant that many under strength infantry units received a trained influx, albeit of men who in many cases needed more meat on their bones after time in captivity. It was also enabling the British to form some new divisions that would be available in a relatively short time, again an extremely positive piece of news.
The French too followed suit, although their men had been in captivity longer and were less aware of the rigours of modern combat. None the less, manpower was always welcome.
Conspicuously absent was any talk of another force in preparation by the French, and Eisenhower, not officially knowing, could not ask on its progress or availability.
His two selfs surfaced momentarily.
‘Now why is it we don’t argue about those suckers?’
‘Beats me, General.’
A word to Colonel Hood should secure him the information he needed on the ex-SS Foreign Legion units.
‘Later.’
For now, Ike could see the same Thomas Bell Hood hovering with Captain Foster, both looking fit to burst.
Lighting up and taking a deep draught of his coffee, he beckoned both forward, unaware that a forty year old mother of three was about to set before him the information needed to start stopping the Russians.
“Good morning Anne-Marie, Thomas. This will have to be brief as I have….”
“Sir, Captain Foster has something very interesting and you are going to want to hear it.”