“And yet we almost won…!” Eckhart exclaimed softly, staring the Führer down now as he spoke proudly of a skewed, Aryan history that had died in the years before his birth. “One nation against the entire world, and we almost won…!” He swallowed hard and forged on, somehow recognising that this was his moment to make or break: to become a true champion of his Aryan ideals or to go down in a blaze of final glory. “You ask me if you made mistakes, Mein Führer…? Then the answer is ‘yes’, it’s true… you made mistakes that perhaps lost us a war.” He shrugged then, almost not believing himself that it had actually happened. “But with those ‘mistakes’ also came the power and the strength and the genius of a true Führer…! Of a man who, when faced with a Germany shattered, torn apart and stabbed in the back by its own politicians after the last war, singlehandedly united our nation again… who singlehandedly made us strong again… made us great again…!”
The words he’d chosen couldn’t possibly have been better, although there was no thought behind it. Eckhart, for all his business sense and 21st Century experience, was a through-and-through Nazi, and there was nothing but utter and complete belief behind every sentence and every line. Standing a yard or two away, hand resting unconsciously on the holster at his belt, even the Reichsführer was forced to grudgingly give a faint nod of approval, knowing as he did, how readily his leader would accept such praise.
“That the Great Powers would go to war over Poland was inconceivable, Mein Führer…” Eckhart continued, seeing the opportunity clearly now to save himself and maybe to do more. “That an isolationist America would so openly ally itself with Great Britain when all was otherwise lost was unbelievable! And when our strongest ally began its grand campaign of conquest in the Pacific and South-East Asia, what else could an honourable leader do but honour that alliance and declare war on the Americans also? Even had you not declared war in the days after Pearl Harbor, do you think the Americans would not have done so against us, with us so closely allied to their greatest and darkest enemy? From thereon in, the die was cast and Germany’s fate was sealed: from that moment on, nothing else you or anyone else could have done could have saved our nation from defeat in the face of the Americans, with their countless factories and their millions of men and their endless streams of bombers overhead.”
The unthinkable reality of his nation’s devastating loss of the Realtime Second World War had scorched the German Chancellor’s psyche like nothing he’d ever before experienced. Having at first come close – Reuters would never know how close – to executing the Reichsmarschall for showing him the unbelievable truth of it all, he’d eventually come to a new plane of thinking regarding the whole thing. Always the opportunist; ever the political pragmatist; Adolf Hitler had eventually, painfully come to terms with the facts of Realtime history: that the overarching reality of the course of the war in Europe was that he and he alone was primarily the architect of Germany’s catastrophic failure.
To say that this had come easily to him would’ve been an abject lie. Acceptance of fault never came easily to a man so certain of his own invincibility… of his own superiority. And yet the evidence Reuters had produced was incontrovertible, and he had ultimately been forced to accept it. Then what to do? Rationalisation was a powerful tool for any man living in complete denial of his own weaknesses, and it made perfect sense that Hitler’s own, most effective political tool – the art of blaming someone else – would also be of use in redirecting his own culpability.
“So… you say this was not my doing, then…” The Chancellor enquired coldly, one eyebrow raised as if daring the man to contradict him. “That Germany’s failure… was not my fault…?”
“Mistakes were made, Mein Führer,” Eckhart conceded, recognising a trap when he saw one, “and perhaps those mistakes hastened the end of the war by some months… or even years… but I stand by what I have said: that Germany’s loss was inevitable the moment the Americans became involved. And that was most certainly no fault of yours…” he added, seeing the opening now for his coup-de-grace. “That, we can surely lay solely at the feet of the Japanese, for provoking a war in the Pacific in the first place…”
There was a long, extremely pregnant pause as both sides stared each other down, and Hitler in the end had to at least concede that the man before him refused to flinch first – something he’s rarely seen before in another man… at least, in other men who’d lived beyond a few minutes afterward. Most of his dealings with the Direktors had previously been through others, and he’d never actually met Eckhart before that morning. In those few seconds that passed between them, the Chancellor’s respect for the man rose markedly as he stared him down
“It seems we do have some thoughts in common, Mein Herr,” Hitler remarked finally, managing another of his thin, characteristic, ‘cold-fish’ smiles, his outward demeanour changing completely in a heartbeat, as if nothing had ever been wrong in the first place. He turned, took a few steps back and threw a pointed glance in Himmler’s direction. “The Reichsführer and I have come to a similar conclusion over the last few days, and in Herr Reuters’ absence, it was exactly this matter we wished to discuss with you… the fact that we have now lost contact with the Reichsmarschall and his party altogether only makes that discussion more pressing.” He glanced across at Himmler once more, giving an imperceptible nod.
“Our strongest ally has betrayed us in thought and deed…” The Reichsführer continued evenly, hands behind his back and his voice mild as he stepped forward to join his commander. “A nation we considered our closest friend and military partner has lied to us and conspired with our own citizens to subvert us and, either incidentally or by design, has brought Deutschland to the brink of war with the United States. They are refusing to cooperate with us regarding return of this last remaining bomb, claiming it to belong to them when it is clear to both parties that they have no right to this device or any right to refuse the demands of a stronger, superior ally. This will not do…”
“What do you suggest, Herr Reichsführer…?” Eckhart asked weakly, taking the opportunity in this moment of relative calm to straighten his suit and try to regain at least some of his composure and self-respect.
“That is something we were hoping for your thoughts on, Eckhart,” Himmler advised with a suitably icy smile. “It is not lost on us that the last coded transmission we received from Reichsmarschall Reuters was one confirming that the weapon had been located and secured by the Japanese on a small island north of Australia. It is not lost on us that this message also indicated the complete refusal of the Japanese to engage in any discussion regarding the return of that same device. Herr Reuters made it clear that if necessary, he would personally take steps to ensure that this bomb would either leave Ambon to be returned to Germany or would never leave at all. It has only been one day without contact, admittedly, yet it is already our concern that the Reichsmarschall does not respond to our calls because he is being prevented from doing so…”
“Surely, they would not dare…?” Eckhart exclaimed, actually shocked at the thought. Much as the Direktors had come to regard Reuters as uncontrollable and something of a liability in the pursuit of their own expansionist goals, he was a German liability all the same, and Eckhart couldn’t accept for a moment that an inferior race – ally, notwithstanding – would be so brazenly stupid as to make a hostage of the highest-ranking military officer in the Wehrmacht.
“We would hope not… for their sakes…” Himmler nodded knowingly, all three in complete accord over the immensity of such an insult.
“The Japanese…” Hitler broke in, taking control of the conversation once more. “Without us… if we do not declare war on the Americans… what hope do they hold of victory?”
“None…” Eckhart answered bluntly, almost scoffing at the idea. “From the scattered reports I have read, they are already well behind the level of success they experienced in the Realtime war. Already, the Japanese should have invaded the American territories of Gu
am and Wake Island. Already, they should be established on the Malay Peninsula and advancing south toward Singapore. The beginning of the Pacific War has delayed a year now past its Realtime date, and in that twelve months, it is clear the Americans and Commonwealth Forces have been far from idle. Their fortifications are greater… their numbers are greater… their resolve is greater. The Japanese have neither the raw materials nor the oil to endure a long-term conflict of attrition against the United States, and the Realtime war in South-East Asia was always intended to be one of speed and surprise as a result. Without quick access to the oil fields of Borneo and the Dutch East Indies, their planes and warships will be starved of fuel, and without them, their people will starve also.”
“You see, Heinrich… I told you this meeting would be useful!” Hitler declared, displaying his most genuine smile so far as he held out an upturned palm in Eckhart’s direction. “We do not have Kurt to advise us, but we have perhaps a suitable substitute in his absence…”
“Always an honour to serve the Führer,” he acknowledged modestly, hiding his own excitement over such praise from Hitler himself and feeling a little safer now.
“You must be hungry, Herr Eckhart… I may call you Klaus, yes…? You must be hungry, Klaus,” the Chancellor continued without pausing for any reply. “I’ll have someone take you up to my private dining room and we can talk some more over your views on history and the course of this war…”
“Of course, Mein Führer… whatever you command.”
“Excellent…! I have a few other minor matters to clear up: I will join you shortly…”
The Chancellor clapped his gloved hands twice – loudly – and a uniformed butler appeared immediately from nowhere, as if by magic.
“Mein Führer…?”
“Have Herr Eckhart escorted to my chambers and prepare a proper breakfast in thirty minutes… He shall have the honour of being a guest at my table.”
“Heil, Mein Führer…!” The flunkey bleated automatically, giving a Nazi salute before turning to Eckhart and ushering him quickly away without another word.
“Interesting perspective on it all, Mein Führer,” Himmler observed softly, standing at the man’s shoulder as both stared after Eckhart’s retreating form. “Not entirely at odds with what Kurt has already advised on many occasions.”
“Indeed…” Hitler agreed reluctantly, deep in thought as he stood stiffly, arms folded. “He leaves much out however… much that Reuters has also advised… for instance, that he and his whole group are so desperate to get their hands on the USSR that they will stop at nothing to push our schedule forward.”
“That’s hardly news, Mein Führer,” Himmler shrugged, giving a wry smile, “and it aligns very well with your own objectives in the East.”
“I can see that, you know,” Hitler acknowledged with a dry smile of own – one which hardened somewhat as he continued to consider the situation at hand. “What I will not do however is jeopardise our chances of success in the East by going too early, or while security in the West is not guaranteed. If I have learned anything from the Reichsmarschall, then I have at least learned that…!”
“And this American situation…?” The Reichsführer continued. “Sending Speer to speak with their envoy was a desperate move, but it may have been a stroke of genius for all that.”
“One which was also done without my verdammt knowledge or permission,” Hitler grumped sourly, a dark frown flickering across his features for a moment, “but we shall consider that later: the fact of the matter is that it has indeed opened up the possibility of security on our western frontier and an agreement with the United States regarding the Atlantic… both of which we need desperately before we can give any thought to Russia. It occurs to me, however…” he continued, his tone lightening a little, “that perhaps our ends might be served if the Bolsheviks had matters to concern themselves with other than the obvious build-up of Wehrmacht forces along the Polish border.”
“You have something in mind already, clearly…”
“This loss of contact with Reuters concerns me,” the Chancellor admitted. “As difficult and unpredictable as the man can be at times, I can’t deny he’s handed me the whole of Europe on a plate, and Germany cannot afford to lose him right now with so much still to do in the East. If they are holding him against his will…”
“And the Russians come into this in what way?”
“In that Mongolian border disputes have been a thorn in the Russians’ backside for some time. The Non-Aggression Pact has protected Japan’s northern territories in Manchukuo for years now, with the Bolsheviks too scared of us perched on their western doorstep to risk a two-front war by giving the Emperor another bloody nose like Khalkhin-Gol… or worse…” He sighed softly, considering which was the most palatable of several unpleasant options. “Have Joachim summoned this afternoon… if the Japanese truly are up to something as I fear, I may have a suggestion for him to take to Molotov, along with a guarantee that there will be no German interference.”
“Stalin won’t believe you,” Himmler observed honestly, scratching his chin vaguely as they stared off into the distance toward the far end of the gallery. “They don’t trust us…”
“With good reason,” Hitler admitted with a faintly evil smile, “yet perhaps they cannot afford to ignore an opportunity either. Greed and power are excellent motivators: a dictator knows this better than anyone! If we offer them an opportunity they can’t resist, does it matter if they trust us…? Stalin will believe it because he wants to believe… people will always believe even the greatest of lies if it gives ‘truth’ to their own self-interest. Trust me in this: the whole of my success so far has been won because of this one true fact.”
“I do not believe for a moment that Eckhart and the other Direktors had no idea what Hegel was up to,” Himmler muttered sourly, changing the subject.
“Of course they knew. I made sure Reinhard went easy on them all only because we still need them… for the time being. They also help keeping Reuters in line, and he’s a handful as it is… without them, he’d be impossible to control, and I’d much rather not need to have him shot just yet… not while there’s so much more still to do. Better to play them off against each other than have either gain enough power to become ‘troublesome’. I think that I like this Eckhart anyway – that he’s a true believer at least is beyond doubt.”
“Zealots have their uses,” the Reichsführer admitted with shrug, “but only when they know how to follow orders.” He have a wry smile. “Easier to like a fellow when he has such nice things to say…”
“You’re suggesting those ‘nice things’ he said were false…?” Hitler challenged, raising an accusing eyebrow and fixing the man with a severe, expectant stare, although there might have been a hint of mirth in his eyes.
“Of course not, Mein Führer,” Himmler replied immediately, the smile remaining on his face as he conceded defeat. “Just… convenient…” He’d known his leader long enough to be fairly confident in his judgement over whether the man was joking or not.
“Keep an eye on them all the same,” the Chancellor directed, suddenly all business once more. “They’ll not be given another opportunity to meddle in the affairs of The Reich. Try anything like that again and they’ll live only long enough to regret it.”
“Shall I speak with Herr Speer regarding his part in all this?”
“Leave Albert to me…” Hitler decided, his tone ending any thought of retribution against the man who was Minister of Armaments and also his favourite architect. “Make sure they keep trying to get through to Reuters, and notify me the moment they do! Send for Ōshima also: I want an official explanation of what’s happening on that island… and what they’re going to do about handing over that verdammt bomb!”
“Heil, Mein Führer…” Himmler acknowledged simply, clicking his heels together and raising a salute in recognition that their conversation was over for the time being.
Carson’s Airfield
Northern Territory, Australia
The briefing had been long and tiresome, with every aspect of the developing plan hammered out to the last detail before every officer present had been willing to sign off on it. There’d been a number of arrivals during that afternoon, with dozens of new aircraft of all shapes and sizes now scattered about the airfield, all of them checked and rechecked, fuelled and armed in preparation for their coming duties. The helicopters and fighter jets had already departed earlier that afternoon, bound for a pair of distant aircraft carriers currently in transit through the Timor Sea, and Thorne would be joining them the next morning in the F-35.
The afternoon had ranged into the high thirties, and with sunset so soon past, the temperature was still holding at mid-twenties, which would’ve been fine for the middle of the day but was extremely uncomfortable to sleep through. Thorne had been utterly exhausted, yet as he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling in the almost total darkness, sleep refused to come. Instead his mind whirled and eddied with a multitude of uncontrolled thoughts and fears, all spiralling and blurring into one another as he tossed and turned in the evening heat.
It had been too much for him in the end, and he’d grudgingly pulled on his service dress khaki shorts and shirt and wandered out into the night, where the ambient warmth of the open air was at least free of the stifling claustrophobia of four close, plywood walls. There was almost no lighting nearby, and the rows of dormant B-17 bombers that lay on either side of that asphalt taxiway were little better than dark silhouettes against the star field of a cloudless sky.
The Dead Alone (Empires Lost Book 3) Page 94