He opened his briefcase and pulled out a map. “This is a military secret, by the way,” he said. “With the massive build-up in Norway, we plan to launch an invasion of Sweden to evict the Nazis, before turning to face the Soviets. From Sweden, our bombers can pound Germany, as well as Leningrad, bringing the cost of the war home to the bastards in a big way.”
He scowled. “Ideally, we would like to launch an all-out invasion of Europe itself in June,” he said. “We’re working on surge-deploying the army to Britain – if you’ll have us – for May, and then landing in June. What we don’t know – or perhaps they haven’t told me – is where we will land. Did your people have any suggestions?”
“They were very keen on staging a raid on the Netherlands, capturing the ports, and using them to bring in the army,” Hanover said. He picked up his PDA and accessed a file. “It would be tricky, they said, but it might just be possible. Once we broke out, we could go for Berlin and then head onwards into Russia, unless the plan succeeds.”
“Perhaps the pressure of an invasion would convince your allies to move,” Truman said. Hanover nodded. “Or… can your people take the ports?”
“The SAS commander was very confident that his people and the SBS could do it,” Hanover said. “They’re the people who paved the way for Gallipoli and you know how well that worked out.”
“The War Department was astonished,” Truman said. He smiled; Admiral King had been pressing for the Americans to develop their own special forces for that sort of task. Thinking of Admiral King reminded him of King’s suggestion. “They were rather envious.”
“Norway was pretty impressive as well,” Hanover said. “Now, I assume that you’ll want precision support?” Truman nodded. “We have plans as well.”
“I expected that,” Truman said. He knew that Hanover wouldn’t like some of his plans. “Iran?”
Hanover nodded. “We were planning to kick off Operation Sunrise next week, depending on supplies getting there in time,” he said. “Basically, it’s a combined assault to defeat the Soviet field forces in the field and seal off the cities. The Soviets make lacklustre field soldiers, but they’re very tough in cities, so we won’t fight them there if it can be avoided.”
He scowled. “You’ve seen the pictures of what happened to the citizens?”
Truman nodded. The horrifying images of civilians fleeing the Soviet forces, or being gunned down from the air, had horrified the public on both sides of the Atlantic. Eleanor Roosevelt, the widow of Franklin Roosevelt, had organised charity efforts for the refuges. It made something called the ‘Palestinian Problem’ seem minor by comparison, more like the images of Africa from the future.
“The only benefit from that will be if we have to go into the cities, there won’t be many civilians in the way,” Hanover said grimly. “I’d prefer to stave them out and concentrate on forcing them all out of Iran in a massive lightning campaign. If everything goes to plan, we’ll have completed the main part of the operation by June.”
“You do move fast,” Truman said, not sure if he should be awed or terrified. “And the future?”
“It took an American force thirty days to take Baghdad in 2003,” Hanover said. “We’ve only gotten quicker in the future. That’s how future wars are won.”
Truman nodded. “The State Department was very keen on American forces taking part in the campaign and on an independent Iran afterwards,” he said.
“They want some oil rights?” Hanover said. He smiled. “We’re not engaging in a land grab here, you know.”
“I know that,” Truman said, even though he didn’t know if he did. “What are your plans?”
“It would depend on the final outcome,” Hanover said seriously. “Iran would either become an independent democratic state, or part of the Republic of Arabia. Either way, we want a democracy there.”
“So do we,” Truman said. “We won’t let the Shah ruin it.”
“Again,” Hanover said. “Now our staffers can work on their plans.”
Truman smiled. “There’s one final point,” he said. “Admiral King had an idea to hit the Soviets in a month or so, at Vladivostok.”
Hanover blinked at him. “Have you seen a map?” He asked. He sounded astonished. “Japan’s in the way.”
“Admiral King assures me that the fleet can get past any Japanese attack,” Truman said. “The point is; once we get Vladivostok, we can start arming their Zeks from the gulags nearby.” He smiled. “It might bring us into conflict with Japan, but without a navy, how much threat can they be?”
Chapter Twelve: The Winter War
Norway/Sweden
15th April 1942
Major Bloodnok had been promised a promotion to brigadier for the coming invasion of Europe, but for the moment he was happy to remain as liaison officer and third-in-command to Patton. His position within the Allied command structure had raised some American hackles… until they’d seen the effects of JDAM and MOAB bombs on German and Soviet positions. They knew, just as well as Bloodnok himself did, that not even Patton could have gotten them through the winter, without the precision strikes that had massacred the Soviets in their thousands.
“We’re going to march all the way to Moscow and hang that bastard Stalin from a sour apple tree,” Patton had proclaimed. The American infantry and the small number of tank crewers who were stationed in Norway had promptly begun singing that to the tune of ‘John Brown’s Body,’ continuing a tradition from the terror war. It had astonished Bloodnok to discover that the tradition had come from the American Civil War; he’d assumed that one of the handful of Americans from the future had imported it.
“We’ll hang Uncle Joe Stalin from a sour apple tree,” a group of infantry sang, marching out of the base towards the parked lorries. Bloodnok saluted them as he headed to Patton’s headquarters, wondering if the American had already taken his personal helicopter and headed off to reconnoitre the battlezone for himself.
He smiled as he saw Patton’s short form standing in the doorway. Patton had demonstrated a genius for flexible combat that would have delighted the Americans of 2015. Smoking a cigar, Patton looked like a picture of himself, a short man smoking a cigar.
“Major,” Patton said. He sounded remarkably cheerful. “Are the planes ready?”
“Yes, sir,” Bloodnok said. “They’re on their way now.”
“Both others and yours,” Patton said. “I wonder what the Germans will make of them.”
Bloodnok nodded. Over the winter – which had been colder by far than he remembered it – Patton had driven his construction battalions mercilessly. Norway’s infrastructure, already wrecked by the fighting, had been repaired, while new airbases and army barracks had been built. The Norwegian Army, a force raised from Norwegians willing to fight the Germans, had been armed and trained; many of them cared nothing for borders and knew the rocky landscape of Sweden as well as they knew their own country.
Patton laughed. Nearly two hundred of the first production run of B-29 heavy bombers had been sent to Norway. Carrying an entire load of heavy dumb bombs, but equipped with modern range finders and GPS systems, they would be capable of dropping extremely large amounts of high explosive onto German targets. The Germans might have learned a lesson from the first battles in Norway – when they’d assumed that the Soviets wouldn’t get involved – but their fumbling attempts to escape British weapons would do them no good against imprecise weapons.