“Well done, Max… well done…” Trumbull said softly, tension finally starting to ease as they flew on into a night sky that was finally safe. “Thank God that’s all over…!”
“Oh this isn’t over,” Thorne replied, his own stress and frustration still high. “There’s going to be an analysis of the damage there at that Wehrmacht HQ once the dust settles, and they’re going to find what’s left of that bomb.” He shook his head in angry displeasure. “When they do, they’ll know we have nuclear weapons that don’t fucking work!” His voice was hushed, but was also filled with renewed vehemence. “We just shot our bolt and came up well short, mate… this is far from over!”
Wehrmacht Field Hospital Unit
Amiens, Northern France
Monday
9 September, 1940
Kurt Reuters woke up in mild discomfort sometime after eleven that morning, the pain of the burns on his lower legs beginning to overcome the low levels of morphine in his system. Schiller was seated by his bedside in the private ward, and had the look of a man completely worn out, exhausted and utterly despondent, although the sight of his friend and commander regaining consciousness went some way to improving his foul mood. The Reichsmarschall was incredibly weak, and couldn’t manage much more than to raise himself slightly and stare with apprehension at the man seated beside him.
“Things are so bad as that?” He asked slowly, his voice soft and wavering slightly.
“Things are bad, Kurt… yes,” Schiller answered honestly with a grimace, “but they could’ve been far worse for all that…”
“Casualties…?”
“Nearly a hundred injured, including fifteen officers of various ranks… five of those, staff officers. Among the thirty-three dead, we lost Admirals Canaris and Raeder, Generals Von Bock and Von Brauchitsch…” He paused a moment before continuing, managing to hide the guilt and fear coursing through him. “We’ve also retrieved the bodies of Field Marshal Göring, Reichsleiter Martin Bormann, Deputy Führer Hess… and Oswald Zeigler. Direktor Strauss is missing and is also feared dead, although his body is yet to be located in the wreckage.” Schiller decided he could provide selected, ‘edited’ details regarding their deaths at a later date. He looked away as he spoke the next few sentences. “Kurt… we also lost Joachim… murdered by that Jewish bastard, Lowenstein, who made his escape during the confusion.”
“Oh Christ…!” Reuters lay his head back in disbelief and closed his eyes, equally devastated by the loss of such a group of experienced men and the painful news of the death of their friend.
“There’s more, Kurt. Both Flankers were sortied in an attempt to intercept the attacking aircraft and supporting tanker… there were two separate engagements, in which both Sukhois were also lost… no survivors. We’ve no idea whether either of the enemy jets detected also survived… or their whereabouts, if they did.”
“Thank God at least it wasn’t a nuke they threw at us… I thought we were done for when I saw that bomb come down!”
“It was a nuke, Kurt,” Schiller began slowly after another pause.
“What do you mean?” The man was staring at him once more, his head turned on the pillow. “How is it then, that we’re still alive at all?”
“An investigation team went through the wreckage after the fire was extinguished. It appears the weapon didn’t function correctly, and there was no nuclear detonation as a result. Most of the damage was done by a much larger, secondary explosion originating from a fuel truck parked at the rear of the building. We believe the driver was sleeping in the cab, and was in any case killed in the blast.”
“Which saves us the necessity of having him shot,” Reuters added coldly, ignoring the fact that he himself had spotted the sleeping man earlier that night and neglected doing anything about the situation.
“The weapon malfunctioned for some unknown reason… we believe it was either a B61- or B83-type thermonuclear weapon, and that it was the initial, conventional imploding charge that ignited the fuel in the tanker truck.”
“Why the hell didn’t it go off?”
“We’re not sure. We’ve salvaged a number of large fragments of what appears to be weapons-grade plutonium from the site. Only problem is, it doesn’t register on our Geiger counters. It looks, feels and weighs about the same as plutonium should… the material just isn’t radioactive.” He lowered his eyes for a moment. “I’d have preferred to have Joachim to consult with on this, but the only theory we can come up with is that the original fissile material may have been neutralised as an unexpected side effect of temporal displacement. As we had no radioactive material to bring back with us, we couldn’t have known that would happen… and that’s really just a theory…”
“Theory or not, we’re certainly still here,” Reuters observed, his mind working over that information for a moment or two, “and they didn’t know what was going to happen, either…! They thought it’d destroy us all… perhaps frighten the Führer into abandoning Seelöwe into the bargain.” He forced himself to sit up, wincing at the pain in his legs, and reeling from sudden head spins, but retaining his balance all the same. “I need to speak to The Führer, and I need to be at a command centre: we can’t afford to allow anything to hold the operation back now, regardless of our command losses.”
“I’ve already made the appropriate arrangements, and The Führer’s been informed,” Schiller reassured, leaning forward and resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Suitable reassignments have been made to replace those men we’ve lost, and field promotions to match where necessary. Preparations for ‘S-day’ are going ahead as planned.”
“I knew I could count on you, Albert!” Reuters smiled genuinely for the first time. “Well done!”
“We’ve no idea where the remnants of Hindsight have holed up, and everything we’ve got’s committed to Seelöwe now anyway. This was their last gasp, Kurt, and their attempt at a nuclear deterrent has turned out to be a paper tiger.” Schiller took a breath. “The general alert and the authorization for S-Day is out, and we’re in the last week of preparations… best way we could avenge this attack is by wiping Great Britain off the map!”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself, old friend,” Reuters commended, clearly seeing a capability for command shining to the fore that Schiller had previously kept hidden, although the Reichsmarschall had known it was present nonetheless. “They wanted to slow us down… make us back off and think about what we’re doing…” A steely edge crept into his voice as he considered a new course of action. “Well, I’m thinking about what we’re doing right now, and we’re not going to slow down… we’re going to bring the schedule forward, and go in two days! We’re not giving them any more time to try anything else… we’ve been ready to go for weeks now: we’ve just been biding our time for the moon and the tides. Send the word out to all the Western Commands that we’re now officially ‘S-Minus-Two’… we’ll have plenty of time to deal with Scapa Flow or any other potential hideaway once the invasion is over.” He halted for a moment as an unrelated thought occurred. “How bizarre, Albert: we’ll be launching Seelöwe on ‘Nine-Eleven’…” He dismissed the piece of trivia a second later, then added: “Get me a phone, Albert: I really need to speak to The Führer right away…”