Hanover nodded. Prushank might be a boring little man, but he knew his business. “Please, see to it,” he said. “It might delay an offensive, but feeding the population takes priority.” He nodded at McLachlan. “Anything from our charm offensive?”
“The Germans still seem to be in control of Italy and France,” McLachlan said. “There seems to be some friction between the two, but as long as the Germans keep their boots to their behinds, they’ll say Jawohl and obey Himmler. Spain, on the other hand, might just be preparing to switch sides, now that the grain trains and other German supplies have been halted.”
“We will have no truck with fascism,” Truman said grimly, and Hanover nodded. Whatever it took, all of Europe was going to come out of the war democratic. “Whatever deals will make must be contingent on the development of a democratic government and the arrest of war criminals.”
Hanover frowned inwardly. Spain’s war criminals, most of whom had fought for Franco during the civil war, were hardly a matter of great concern. The newly formed Spanish lobby in Britain had been screaming about saving the thousands who would die between 1945 and the end of the Spanish dictatorship, although they were being very quiet about Gibraltar.
“We won’t betray their people,” he said finally. “General, when can you begin the offensive?”
“It’s hard to say for certain what Himmler is thinking,” Cunningham said. “They’re being very careful about hiding what they’re doing from our satellites, but it seems like they are concentrating on developing a defence line, as close to the border with us as possible. If they work on the best possible options, that line will be several miles deep, and have powerful mobile forces in place.”
“Assuming that they have powerful mobile forces left,” Truman said.
Cunningham nodded. “Assuming that everything goes to plan, which it won’t, I intend to launch the next step in a week, an all-out Blitzkrieg towards Berlin. We’ll hammer their line to death, and then punch through, sealing off the fortress cities – which is what the PJHQ analysts believe that the Germans are trying to do in the cities. We’ll deploy small forces to prevent the Germans from trying to cut our lines, but they won’t be able to challenge us head-on.”
He adjusted the map; a red arrow ran directly to Berlin. “Exactly what happens in Berlin is a political decision,” he said. “My own preference would be to seal the city and wait for it to surrender, but that would take time. Attempting to take the city directly would be very bloody indeed.”
“There’s always Rommel’s plan,” McLachlan said thoughtfully.
“Perhaps,” Hanover said. He sighed. “General, what about Russia?”
Cunningham nodded. “It would depend on what Stalin does,” he said. “We expect that Stalin will not attempt to interfere and save the Germans – and if he thinks he can do that he has an unpleasant shock coming – but instead dig in his own defences.” He shook his head. “I can’t make any definite plans for the invasion of Russia; a lot depends on how the battle for Germany concludes.”
“I understand,” Hanover said. “General, please expedite matters as fast as you can. I have a nasty feeling that Himmler hasn’t run out of tricks.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Star Wars
Launch Site
Germany, Near Poland
6th June 1942
If there was one thing to be pleased about the massive British air effort to crush resistance in the Netherlands, which had prevented any attempt from opening the dykes and drowning everyone, it was that they seemed to have run out of their special weapons. Of course, Obergruppenfuehrer Roth, who had studied war as it had been fought in 2015, knew that they could be replaced – and certainly quicker than the German bridges and power stations could be replaced – but there was a window of opportunity.
Roth worked on the launching site to forget. He’d done what he could to help Kesselring, but he knew that it wasn’t enough. The cold dispassionate words of Doctor Mengele, describing his lover’s repeated violation, echoed through his mind, and he found himself hoping that the evil doctor had survived the nuclear blast. He wanted to deal with him personally, to burn the filth from Germany’s soil.
He studied the rocket as it was erected quickly. Of the seven satellites that Germany had tried to launch, three had failed, but the former engineering student had a good feeling about the rocket on the pad. It felt right; perfect for its role. Part of his mind wished that he would have a chance to work on Von Braun’s long-term plans, plans to place a German space station in orbit, even a base on the moon, but he knew that that would never happen. Even if Germany somehow won the war, his character would be forever too dark to work on such bright projects.
Thoughts of the rocket scientists forced his thoughts over to the other rocket, the one designed to launch a weapon into orbit to hit the space station. He’d asked Himmler’s permission to launch it at once, but the Fuhrer had said nothing, concentrating on preparing the defence of Germany.
“Herr Obergruppenfuehrer, the rocket is finally ready,” the director said. Von Braun himself had been sent east, to one of the secret bases in the Polish wastes, but he’d left trained staff behind. Roth wished that the scientist were with them; his skills were worth having nearby in case of an accident. The rocket, guided by an experimental guidance system – a very primitive computer – was a valuable investment, even if most of it would be wasted.
He shook his head. Germany had been on the verge of a genuine breakthrough in computing, with the knowledge of the future, and now it would all be wasted. They had been proceeding at breakneck speed down the technology tree, trying to master the computers of the 1960s and 1970s, but now it would be wasted. Transistors alone had boosted the German technology base, but they had run out of time.
“Then what are we waiting for?” Roth asked dryly. “Launch at once.”
Five minutes later, the rocket rose from its pad, heading upwards to deploy its cargo into orbit, an orbit that would send it five times around the Earth, and then send it spinning back into Earth’s atmosphere, for a touchdown in Poland.
The Germans expected that the British satellites would keep track of their launches, and further realised that there was no way that they could avoid attracting the attention of British satellites. Instead, they took pains to ensure that tampering with the German satellites would be dangerous; any British spaceman who attempted to steal or board a satellite would be in serious danger.
The Germans didn’t know, couldn’t know, that the British had emplaced a small amount of missiles in orbit. They weren’t designed for space work, being created for use in Eurofighters, but they represented a considerable development. The BVRAAM missiles could take their orders from the space station… which was tracking the German launch. It only took minutes to deduce that the Germans were attempting to launch a satellite, and then the decision was made to engage.
“Engage,” Caroline Salamander said.
The missile received its orders and gently fired its engine for precisely the right amount of time. It fell out of orbit on an intersecting course, smoothly heading towards the German rocket. At the speed it was travelling, there was no need for a warhead; the German satellite was completely destroyed.
“Herr Obergruppenfuehrer, the rocket… it just exploded,” the director said. “Something went wrong…”