“Perhaps so, Horst… as you say… so much has come together to bring us to this point… so… anyway… give me a moment.”
He picked up the telephone again and asked for a connection.
“Kanzler Speer for the Feldmarschal immediately please.”
He relaxed, the answerer immediately off to get hold of the German Army’s field commander.
Less than a minute later, he heard a gruff voice in his ear.
“Guderian.”
“Feldmarschal, are matters in hand for the exercise?”
“Yes, and progressing as expected, Herr Kanzler.”
“Excellent… and General Patton is with you still?”
“Yes, Herr Kanzler. We both intend to go forward and observe the night exercise later, but he’s still here at the moment.”
“Good, please put him on the line.”
Clearly Patton actually wasn’t there at hand, as Speer could hear orders being shouted.
“Here he is now, Her Kanzler. Any further instructions for me?”
“No. None at all. Proceed as planned, Feldmarschal.”
“Here is General Patton, Herr Kanzler.”
Speer sat up a little straighter, as befitted the gravity of the moment.
“Good afternoon, General Patton.”
“Good afternoon, Chancellor. What can I do for you, Sir?”
“Of course, straight to the point. By now you’ll know about the tragic circumstances of this day.”
“Yes, Sir. I’ve been informed, Sir.”
“I’ve spoken with your President and tendered our condolences of course, but we’ve also spoken on other urgent matters.”
“Yes, Sir?”
“President Truman has been unable to get through to you so he has asked me to inform you that, effective immediately, you are now temporary Commander of NATO forces in Europe. He asks me that you make your way to Frankfurt and assume command until the member states can appoint a permanent successor… which, I might add, might be some time.”
Patton kept his face straight as he was awarded the pinnacle post of his military career.
“Thank you, Chancellor, I understand fully. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve much to do.”
“I’m sure you do, General. Good luck to you. Good day.”
“Good day to you, Chancellor.”
At the field headquarters of Feldmarschal Guderian, Patton handed the telephone receiver back to the waiting signaller and turned to the German commander.
“Well, Fieldmarshal, it seems that duty calls me once again. They’ve given me command of NATO.”
“Congratulations, General.”
“Thank you… now, I must get going. I’ll be in touch as soon as I’ve shaken things out.”
Within two minutes, he was on the road to Frankfurt.
1601 hrs, Friday 14th March 1947, Camp Vár, Sweden.
Nazarbayeva had travelled back to her headquarters, and then took another flight to Sweden, which was why she was at the negotiating venue, rather than languishing at Vnukovo like her intended companions, whose aircraft steadfastly refused to pass pre-flight checks.
Summoned to one of the grander meeting rooms, she and Rufin found themselves ushered to seating opposite three Allied military men, who stood as she entered.
As had been agreed as standard camp protocol, neither side saluted and they simply took to the comfortable seats.
The Swedish overseer spoke first.
“Good afternoon to you all. It is apparent that the Soviet contingent is incomplete. We understand that this is because of aircraft issues in Moscow?”
Nazarbayeva nodded and shrugged in one easy motion.
“That is so, Mister Erikkson. I came from a different location. My comrades hope to be in the air tomorrow morning, and offer their complete apologies.”
“These things happen, General Nazarbayeva. However, new circumstances have apparently made this meeting redundant. General?”
Erikkson looked to the leader of the Allied contingent.
The man appeared to be in some sort of reverie, one from which the second request summoned him.
“General?”
“Apologies. I wish to make a statement on behalf of NATO.”
Erikkson had been given an inkling that something was going on, and he knew that the Allies would be stepping away from the negotiating table for the whole day, but the normally efficient Military Intelligence apparatus had not managed to discover what was behind their request.
“Please do, General.”
The Allied officer leading the group cleared his throat.
“At approximately 1100 hrs our time, the aircraft carrying General Eisenhower, commander of NATO forces in Europe, appears to have suffered a mid-air structural failure and fire. The aircraft subsequently crashed. There were no survivors. At this time, all negotiations between our forces are to cease as a mark of respect for the General and those others killed in this tragic accident. We hope that you will understand our position and assist us in agreeing to a temporary cessation to permit us to gather our thoughts at this time.”
Nazarbayeva was genuinely speechless and exchanged looks with Rufin.
Gathering her wits she spoke with great sincerity.
“This is appalling news, for once Eisenhower was a trusted friend of the Soviet Union. Recently he has been an honourable and capable foe, and I extend the commiserations of the Motherland and her peoples. Of course, we’ll suspend our meetings here until such time as we can come back together and proceed, having allowed a proper time for reflection and remembrance. If I or my staff can provide any assistance, please do not hesitate to ask, General.”
Lucian Truscott nodded his thanks for the eloquent reply.
“Thank you so much, General Nazarbayeva. Now, if you’ll excuse us, there’s much to do.”
Both sides rose and exchanged respectful nods, the Allied officers trooping out, followed by the Swedish delegation, leaving the Soviets alone.
Dismissing the two other officers, translators for the more exotic languages the Allied contingent sometimes brought to the table, Nazarbayeva sat down heavily and spoke her thoughts.
“Eisenhower dead… and who else, I wonder?”
Rufin couldn’t answer that of course, but his mind had been heading down the same line.
“One things for sure, Comrade Leytenant General, Moscow needs to hear about this immediately.”
“Yes… yes, you’re right. I don’t doubt it’ll be well received. Despite my words, I’m sure his death will be celebrated in the Rodina.”
They both rose and moved off as quickly as possible, seeking out the NKVD colonel who was in charge of the special communications unit.
The news was relayed to Moscow and, as predicted, was seen as something to rejoice over.
At Vnukovo, the three senior men received the news that they were presently not required to go to Camp Vár, and none of them was happy.
They travelled back together, deep in conversation.
“So what will the contact do?”
“Stay silent. He’ll stay silent of course.”
“No, I suspect he won’t. He’ll talk.”
They both looked at Khrushchev with pained expressions.
“He’ll be expecting three… that’s what he was told. I’m not listed as being there as yet… I’m the surprise… Now he’ll know that two… you two… are delayed. He’ll assume she’s one of us… he’ll talk to her.”
“Mudaks!”
“What’ll she do…?”
Kaganovich posed the question to himself, as he probably knew the woman better than the others…
‘…of course, I know her better than them…now… what the fuck will she do…’