Chosen of the Valkyries (Twilight Of The Gods Book 2) (18 page)

“I understand,
Mein Fuhrer
,” he said.  “The offensive will proceed as fast as possible.”

“Very good,” Holliston said.  “Keep me updated.”

Alfred sighed, inwardly, as the line disconnected.  One of the operators was updating the ammunition consumption chart, warning him that stockpiles of ammunition were being used up faster than his worst-case estimates.  There weren’t any major shortages - yet - but it was only a matter of time before they faced serious problems.  Germany East could produce millions of rifle rounds, if necessary ... producing panzer shells and bombs was far harder.

But they will be in the same boat
, he thought. 
They’ll have the same problem too
.

He sucked in his breath.  The
Reich
had built up colossal stockpiles, after nearly running out of bombs and bullets during the last major war.  But logistics had always been a secondary concern.  Hitler had believed that Germans could muddle through, whatever happened, and had chosen to ignore how logistics constrained their operations.  But it was growing alarmingly clear that all of the pre-war estimates had been badly inaccurate.

And we have been at war for less than a day
, he thought. 
What will happen if we keep expending ammunition at the same rate for the next two weeks
?

***

From his vantage point, Eduard Selinger could see the SS panzers as they advanced, one by one, down the
autobahn
.  They’d clearly learned a few lessons, he noted to himself; the panzers were spread out, just to ensure that an air attack couldn't catch more than one or two of the vehicles before the aircraft had to beat a retreat.  A pair of helicopters hung overhead, swinging from side to side as they watched for potential threats; high overhead, a pair of fast-jet fighters were clearly visible.  In the distance, he could see a number of mechanized infantrymen, hanging back to allow the panzers to take the brunt of any ambush.

Makes sense
, he told himself, as he peered through the scope. 
But there isn't an antitank team waiting in ambush
.

He smiled, rather coldly, as he caught sight of the panzer commanders.  They were perched on top of their panzers, their eyes scanning the horizon for significant threats rather than staying firmly buttoned down in their vehicles.  Eduard didn't blame them - it was harder to keep track of what was going on inside a panzer - but it made them vulnerable.  They’d be ready to duck down the moment something happened, yet ... he’d still have the first shot.

I stalked insurgents in South Africa
, he thought.  Carefully, he took aim at the lead commander and squeezed the trigger. 
This is easy
...

The rifle fired.  He moved rapidly to the next target and pulled the trigger again, trusting that he had hit the first target.  The third target was already ducking down, moving with commendable speed; Eduard fired a shot anyway, in hopes of winging him.  It didn't look as though he’d succeeded, but at least he was sure his target knew he’d come very close to death.  The panzers would be rather more careful about advancing now.

He rolled over, set the booby trap and headed for his escape route as the sound of approaching helicopters grew louder.  They wouldn't know
precisely
where he was, but the pilots would be experienced enough to shoot at any hint of movement and ask questions later.  He dived down the gully and held himself still, hoping that his camouflage was enough to keep him hidden from prying eyes.  The rattle of gunfire sounded, moments later, but it didn’t seem to be aimed anywhere near him.  But as the helicopters passed overhead, he heard the sound of advancing infantry behind them.  It was time to move.

Gritting his teeth, he crawled down the gully, reminding himself that he didn't dare be taken alive.  The SS wasn't known for honouring the rules of war, but snipers rarely survived encounters with the
Heer
, let alone the
Waffen-SS
.  He’d be lucky if they merely shot him in the head.  Behind him, he heard a loud explosion as someone triggered the IED he’d placed near his hiding place.  If he were lucky, the stormtroopers would slow down and advance carefully, suspecting that there were dozens of other IEDs in place.  It was a common insurgent trick ...

But not one I used
, he reminded himself.  There hadn’t been time to lay a network of traps, even if he’d had the explosives. 
And the moment they realise they’ve been tricked, they’ll pick up speed
.

He glanced upwards as the helicopters started to return, willing himself to stay as still as possible.  Someone on the other side had thought quickly, he admitted silently; the advancing infantrymen were the beaters, trying to force him to break cover, while the helicopters were ready to snipe him when he showed himself.  He was tempted to remain still in the hopes the infantrymen would miss him, but it was too risky.  The stormtroopers had been chasing insurgents for decades.  They knew all the tricks.

Another burst of gunfire rattled out overhead, followed by an explosion.  Eduard frowned, puzzled.  He doubted the SS were firing missiles at random, not when each missile cost more
Reichmarks
than the average soldier earned in a year.  And the explosion hadn't been anywhere near him ... he glanced up, again, as a streak of light flashed across the sky, followed by a jet aircraft.  He smiled openly as he realised what had happened.  One of the patrolling ME-356s had seen the convoy and decided to attack.

A stroke of luck
, he thought, as more gunfire echoed behind him.  It was probably futile - jet fighters were faster than speeding bullets - but it worked in his favour.  The advancing stormtroopers would be more interested in seeking cover than giving chase.  Hell, the panzers would be in
real
trouble.  A jet fighter’s cannon could inflict significant damage. 
Time to leave
.

Picking up speed, he crawled faster.  Behind him, the sound of pursuit faded away.

Chapter Seventeen

Berlin, Germany Prime

13 September 1985

“I’m sorry,” the guard said.  “Only councillors are allowed past this point.”

Gudrun looked at Horst, who shrugged.  “I’ll get some of our stuff from the surface,” he said, shortly.  “Don’t worry about it.”

The guard looked uncomfortable.  Gudrun couldn't help feeling sorry for him.  On one hand, he had his orders; on the other, making an enemy out of a councillor could make his life very uncomfortable. 
She
wouldn't send him to Siberia - assuming it was possible - but he had no way to know it.  Shaking her head - she would have to do something to convince the guards that the provisional government wasn't as bad as the former council - she nodded to Horst and stepped through the door.  Volker Schulze was sitting at the table, reading a detailed report; the remainder of the council was nowhere to be seen.  Gudrun took a seat and waited, patiently, for the others to join them.

“The war has begun,” Schulze said, once the entire council had been assembled and the doors firmly closed.  “Field Marshal?”

Field Marshal Gunter Voss nodded from where he was sitting.  “We just re-established contact with the front lines,” he said.  “The SS has launched a major offensive against us and is currently pushing into the teeth of our defences.  My staff are still pulling the reports together, but it is clear that we severely underestimated their ability to disrupt our preparations.  It may be some time before we are able to stop them.”

If we can
, Gudrun thought.  She felt cold. 
If they take Berlin, everyone in this room is doomed
.

“Right now, we are skirmishing with the advance elements as planned, bleeding them while preserving as much of our own firepower as possible,” Voss added.  “However, they have gained a number of advantages, including localised air supremacy.  I do not expect to be able to stop them short of Berlin.”

Kruger leaned forward.  “Can't you speed up the process of moving troops from the west?”

“I was getting to that,” Voss said.

He nodded towards the map on the wall.  Someone had been marking the paper with red ink, each one - Gudrun assumed - representing a missile strike.  She was no expert, but she couldn't help noticing that a number of strikes had taken place to the west.  And yet, was she reading the map wrong?  Why would the SS strike targets that were not in their way?

Voss explained.  “My staff have reports of commando strikes and missile attacks targeting bridges to the west of Berlin,” he said.  “While those strikes have done relatively little damage, they
have
successfully delayed our movements.  Getting panzers from the west eastwards will take weeks, more time - perhaps - than we have.  We’re currently working on reworking the operational plan to account for the lost bridges - we can throw up pontoons ourselves, if necessary - but it will take time.”

“And perhaps allow them to secure the armoured forces without a fight,” Schulze observed, darkly.  “If we lose ...”

“Yes,
Herr Chancellor
,” Voss said.  “It would be unrealistic of us to expect isolated units to continue to fight on after Berlin falls.”

He took a long breath.  “The offensive is only nine hours old,” he added.  “I expect we will have a clear idea of their true rate of advance by the end of the day, but such matters are always very variable.  We will be targeting their bridges with as much enthusiasm as they targeted ours, for example.  And they will need to stop and resupply their forces from time to time.  Our stay-behind units may have a chance to give them another bloody nose.”

“Thank you,” Schulze said.  He glanced at
Generalfeldmarschall
Markus Brandenburg, who looked grim.  “What happened to the
Luftwaffe
?”

“We took a bloody nose,” Brandenburg said.  He sounded angry at his own words.  “They attacked a number of airbases, killing or wounding well over three hundred pilots as well as destroying a number of planes.  Our hopes of air supremacy were destroyed with them,
Herr Chancellor
.  We may have to husband our remaining fast-jet fighters just to keep a protective shroud over Germany Prime.”

He glared at the map, as if it had personally offended him.  “The SS always controlled far too many CAS aircraft,” he added.  “They have a very definite advantage in that category.”

“Because you refused to fly them for us,” Voss snapped.  “You never wanted the
Heer
to have its own air arm.”

“It flies, it’s ours,” Brandenburg snapped back.  “If that principle had been honoured, the SS wouldn't be anything like a major threat!”

Schulze slapped the table, hard.  “
Enough
,” he said, sharply.  “There is no point in trying to refight the battles of the past.  We must grapple with the situation facing us, rather than the situation we would wish.”

Gudrun nodded in agreement.  Her father had been a young man when the
Luftwaffe
had stubbornly insisted on hoarding all aircraft to itself, even though both the
Heer
and the
Kriegsmarine
had wanted aircraft of their own.  She wasn't sure how the SS had managed to build up its own air force, but she had a feeling - reading between the lines - that CAS aircraft were seen as inherently less glamorous than fast-jet fighters.  And yet, when fighting a counterinsurgency, fast-jet fighters were far less useful than slow but precise bombers. 

“Yes,
Herr Chancellor
,” Brandenburg said.  He paused.  “We are looking at ways to move support aircraft back from South Africa, but that will require some degree of cooperation from the French.  Can we trust them to help us?”

Schulze looked at Gudrun.  “Your thoughts?”

“The French aren’t stupid,” Gudrun said.  It flew in the face of pre-uprising orthodoxy, but she didn't care.  “I think they understand, deep inside, that an SS victory spells doom for France.  Holliston is not going to let them get away with trying to take advantage of the
Reich’s
problems for themselves.  The panzers that roll through Berlin will
keep
rolling until they reach Vichy.  I don’t expect the French to do anything that might
prevent
us winning the war.”

“Unless they’re scared of Holliston,” Foreign Minister Engelhard Rubarth grunted.  “They won’t want him to blame them for
anything
.”

Kruger snorted.  “Is there anything they can do,” he asked rhetorically, “that will cleanse them of the shame, in his eyes, of being born
French
?”

Gudrun nodded.  Holliston was not likely to show mercy to the French, not when the French had already played a minor role in setting the stage for the uprising.  He’d need a foreign enemy to reunite the shattered
Reich
and the French would make excellent candidates.  The German population was already conditioned to look down on them, while their ability to
resist
a panzer-led invasion was almost non-existent.  Invading Vichy France and snuffing out their government would accomplish multiple goals for Holliston.  Gudrun had never met him in person, but if what she’d heard was true, the simplicity would appeal to him.

“Then discuss it with them as a matter of urgency,” Schulze said.  He looked at Rubarth.  “Is there anything new from the rest of the world?”

“The Italians have offered a couple of combat-ready divisions,” Rubarth said.  He didn't sound pleased.  “The Turks have, so far, agreed to keep forces from transiting through their territory into Germany Prime, but that may not last.”

“Italians,” Voss said.  “Do they want us to lose?”

“The Italian government may not last for much longer anyway,” Rubarth said.  “I don't think we can count on them.”

“Of course not,” Schulze said.  “And economically?”

“Still pretty bad,” Kruger said.  “But we should be able to keep things fairly stable for the next few weeks.  A long drawn-out war will kill us.”

Gudrun nodded.  Thousands of factory workers had been called to the colours, while others had founded dozens of new unions and were competing for increased wages, reduced hours and political accountability.  Schulze must find it annoying, she suspected; he’d
started
the union movement, only to see it grow out of control.  Cracking down on unions wouldn't be any easier for the provisional government than it had been for the
Reich
Council.

“Keep me informed,” Schulze said, addressing Voss.  “The rest of us ... we carry on.”

“We have no choice,” Kruger said.  “The future of the
Reich
itself is at stake.”

“Yes,” Schulze said.  “And that leads to a question.  Do we accept the American offer of covert assistance?”

“Out of the question,” Voss said, immediately.  “We would save the
Reich
from Holliston, only to become a suburb of Washington DC.  The Americans will demand a high price for their help.”

“Beggars can't be choosers,” Morgenstern pointed out.  “And we
are
beggars.  What price our national pride if the nation itself is lost?”

Gudrun frowned, inwardly.  Hilde Morgenstern had complained, loudly, about being sent to America.  Indeed, she’d even talked about running off before reluctantly submitting to her father’s insistence that she take the flight out of Berlin.  For once, Morgenstern had shown actual
firmness
in dealing with his daughter, something that surprised and bothered Gudrun more than she cared to admit.  She knew what would have happened if
she’d
talked back to her father like Hilde - she wouldn't have been able to sit comfortably for several days - but Hilde had always been a spoilt brat.  Morgenstern was clearly more worried than he wanted to let on about the outcome of the war.

“Holliston will use it against us,” Voss predicted.

“The Americans will soon be sending their spying aircraft overhead,” Brandenburg predicted, dourly.  “We may as well ask for copies of the photographs.”

Schulze blinked in surprise. “You can't stop them?”

“It was never easy to stop those damnable planes while the air defence network was actually fully integrated,” Brandenburg admitted.  “The Americans would buzz our network from time to time, sending aircraft over the
Reich
... all of which were too high or too fast to shoot down.  Even when we
did
hit an aircraft and bring it down, we never talked about it.”

Gudrun frowned.  No one had told her
that
before.  But then, the
Reich
Council would not have wanted to admit that the Americans could fly through the
Reich’s
airspace at will.  Even shooting one or more of the aircraft down wouldn't be enough to make up for the humiliation of
knowing
the defence network could be penetrated.  No wonder the
Reich
Council had never levelled
that
charge against the Americans.  It was something that could easily rebound on them.

“They will make us pay an immense price,” Voss predicted, sharply.  “Does it not suit them to keep us fighting each other?”

“Yes, it does,” Morgenstern said.  He sounded oddly forceful.  “But it does not suit them to have an SS-run government in Berlin.  They can do business with us, Field Marshal, while they could not talk to Holliston.”

“And bringing the arms race to an end can only benefit us,” Kruger added.  “It was pushing us towards bankruptcy even before the uprising.”

“It will make us weak,” Voss said.  “And the Americans will take advantage of it.”

“We will still have our nukes,” Rubarth pointed out.  “There will be limits to how far they can push us around and they will know it.”