Although then Elvira went by another name.
‘Irma.’
0703 hrs, Sunday, 16th March 1947, emergency casualty-clearing station, 76 Maxingstrasse, Vienna, Austria.
Lieutenant Colonel Williams, the 2nd Rangers commander, had finished reporting the failure of his battalion’s attack and was now visiting the overflowing aid post.
Many of his men lay there, alongside the occasional doughboy from the 355th, or even a wounded Russian.
He found Ford recovering from emergency surgery, still unconscious but expected to survive.
Many more of his men were being made comfortable for their journey to whatever lay ahead after life was extinct.
Despite the doctor’s warnings, he was still unprepared for the sight of Lukas Barkmann sat on a bed, crying silent tears through eyes that looked at something half a world away, rocking slowly in a spreading wet patch of his own making.
“Lukas… Lukas…”
There was no reaction.
“Lukas?”
He put his hand gently on Barkmann’s shoulder and jumped as the reaction was swift and pronounced.
The scream penetrated his ears to the point of causing pain, and the young officer dived under the bed where he curled up in a ball and sobbed like a child.
“Oh fuck… Lukas… I… err… shit…”
Williams had no idea what to do so decided to say no more.
He turned on his heel and sought out the doctor to speak about his captain, before he resumed his journey around the beds of bloodied men.
The 2nd Rangers assault on the Schönbrunn Palace had failed to cover even half of the distance to its objective.
Casualties had been extreme, and only one of the reserve companies was considered anywhere near effective.
Able had taken heavy casualties trying to take the Tiergarten, and initially failed, partially due to a new weapon that gave the Soviet soldiers greater firepower.
Only the fact that the enemy seemed to grow low on ammunition allowed them to make a final push and secure the whole zoo area, although they could not push the resilient enemy out of either the old or new Palm Houses.
Baker was the most heavily engaged and damaged of the Rangers’ companies, with only thirty-seven men left unaffected, physically or mentally.
Not one Baker Company man had crossed the Rustenallee.
Charlie Company had fared only slightly better, and did, in the end, restore the American position in the Neptune Fountain.
Captain Fairlawn, Charlie’s commander, mostly lay alongside the sleeping Heliopolous; mostly because his legs still lay on the battlefield where they had been separated from his body by a burst of DShK fire.
Fox Company had lost least and advanced most, the advance elements reaching the public swimming pool and obelisk fountain before the precariousness of their advance halted them.
Reluctantly, Fox had pulled back as both flanks lay exposed.
Easy Company had walked right into the Soviet mortar barrage and suffered high casualties.
Williams decided that enough was enough and refused to commit Dog Company to the fool’s errand that the attack had turned into.
Seventeen of the new weapons were sent back for intelligence analysts to examine, along with the initial debrief of a captured Soviet NCO.
Before the intelligence haul went back, William’s G-2 officer examined everything and ok’d it for removal.
He picked up one of the new weapons and felt its balance, both liking and hating it at the same time. Liking for its solid and reliable feel, hating it because it was in the hands of his enemy.
He initialled the report and the weapons et al were taken away.
He accepted a cigarette from his friend.
“One things for sure, Al… we ain’t heard the last of them things.”
Gesualdo nodded as he drew in the smoke.
He’d seen the capability of these new… whatever they were… in action, and they were decidedly bad news.
“Yep. Reckon those bastards will be around for a while. What they called?”
The G-2 checked his notes.
“No name, the guy just called it an AK-47.”
“Well, name or not, the fucking thing’s bad news.”
“Amen to that.”
Chapter 194 – THE BLADES
By the sword you did your work, and by the sword you die.
0904 hrs, Monday, 17th March 1947, Colonel General Kaganovich’s office, the Kremlin, Moscow, USSR.
“Sit… sit… mind the cables… you look terrible, Comrade.”
“I feel terrible, Comrade General.”
She picked her way over the power leads to the film projector.
“Was it a difficult journey back?”
“No. The Allies made it quite clear that all members of delegations would travel unhindered, provided that details of flights were rostered… although I admit, I half expected a squadron of Spitfires to descend upon us en route.”
Kaganovich could understand that, given the Allies’ treachery in launching an unprovoked attack… admittedly, he conceded to himself, before their own unprovoked attack on the Allies.
A fine point, but an important one, although the act of the enemy had justified Stalin’s efforts to secure highly destructive weaponry and launch his own attack.
He poured tea from a superbly ornate samovar he had recently acquired and placed one before the woman.
“So, Tatiana, I’m intrigued as to why you’ve come to see me before presenting yourself and your report to the General Secretary…”
That Kaganovich was intrigued was obvious, although Nazarbayeva had no idea what exactly the very dangerous man was intrigued about.
“Officially, one of my men is flying in with a file to allow me to brief the GKO thoroughly… unofficially… I discovered something of great concern to me… and I decided that I’d come and speak to you first.”
Inside, Kaganovich felt smug, but kept his face relatively blank, maintaining a modest enquiring look just to keep up appearances.
“Then speak… and speak freely, Tatiana… I’ll do you no harm for speaking your mind to me… and rest assured there are no recording devices in the room.”
Technically he was correct.
The recorders were in a separate room.
She launched into the presentation she had prepared in her room and on the flight back, revealing Pekunin’s treachery, the use of code words, although she decided not to reveal what they were.
Kaganovich said nothing and simply listened, occasionally pursing his lips or shaking his head at her words.
The existence of a secret group plotting to overthrow the leadership brought a gasp, as much for the fact that he had secretly hoped she didn’t know it, as much as for show.
The accusations of Stalin starting the war on lies, the approach to resume her former mentor’s role as a go between… the knowledge of the submarine carrying anthrax…
‘Who the fuck is Polkovnik Ramsey?’
The suspected existence of large Japanese submarines and equipment pertaining to their nuclear project…
The words spilled from Nazarbayeva’s mouth.
In another room, next to two recorders manned by NKVD personnel loyal to Kaganovich, two important men sat listening, hooked on every word.
“So, what is that you ask of me, Comrade Nazarbayeva?”
“These traitors… how best to smoke them out?”
“You didn’t give me the code phrases… deliberate on your part, of course.”