“Heinz, a land war in central Europe will involve infantry, armor and aircraft, not ships.”
“Naval forces wouldn’t be involved immediately, that is true,” Heinz countered. “But NATO’s plan to defend West Germany from Soviet invasion relies on quick reinforcement from North America. That reinforcement will have to come by sea. Without those troops and equipment, the American forces on the continent will not last two weeks against a coordinated assault by the Warsaw Pact. The NATO war plan calls for naval reinforcement to begin within days after the outbreak of hostilities.”
“All right, but how does this involve us?”
“The U.S. Navy, while powerful, is not invincible. In the North Atlantic, they must rely on the English to help safeguard the sea lanes from Soviet submarines. There is also the prospect of Soviet air attacks against Allied convoys, operating from bases they might seize in Norway or Iceland. Removing the Royal Navy from the equation will leave those countries virtually defenseless. Using them as platforms for air strikes, plus their submarine attacks, will allow the Soviets to interdict the Allied convoys and destroy them. That is critical to the Soviet plan for winning a war in Europe. This we know from our sources in Moscow and other Warsaw Pact nations.”
“Again, I ask—“
“Don’t you see?” Heinz set his glass down on the end table rather forcefully. “When the realization of CAPRICORN sinks in, there will be panic in London and Washington. Likewise, there will be panic in Moscow. The Soviets are not prepared to exploit such an advantage, but the western powers don’t know that. The Soviets may think the Americans will launch a pre-emptive strike. Both sides will come to a war footing very quickly. But until they do, there will be confusion. This will create a brief window of opportunity.”
Willy’s heart seemed to slow down as the realization sunk in. “An opportunity…”
“Yes,” Heinz said. “Even as we speak, there are men in positions of importance in both West and East Germany. Men who have control of army and police units. In the critical hours after CAPRICORN, they will move. The Red Army has a large supply of tactical nuclear warheads in East Germany. The Americans control the warheads in the West. The men on both sides of the border involved in VALKYRIE will seize these warheads, as well as the communications centers in both countries. The Soviet and NATO forces in the field will be cut off from their headquarters. Their most powerful weapons will be in the hands of the putschists.”
“Heinz, this cannot possibly work. Don’t you think the Americans have prepared for such an eventuality? Certainly the Soviets have. They’ve never trusted the East Germans.”
Heinz stood up and began pacing the cabin. “The plotters believe they only need a few hours. Yes, the enemy units in the field have alternate communications. They will know something is afoot, but they won’t know what. The Soviets in particular will do nothing without hearing from Moscow. Their command-and-control structure does not allow for initiative in the field. The Americans are more flexible, but they will still want to hear from NATO headquarters in Brussels. The public airwaves will be full of news about the destruction of the English fleet. By the time the Soviet and NATO field commanders re-establish links with their leadership outside the country, VALKYRIE will have succeeded. Once the rebels have the weapons under control, they will arrest the political leadership in East Berlin and Bonn. They will throw open the gates in Berlin and rebel forces from both sides will join up. So will units along the border between the two countries.” He sat down again, looking intently at Willy. “Imagine the power of those scenes on television, Willy. The Wall finally coming down. After more than thirty years of suspicion and fear, the German citizenry will see their soldiers, young men from East and West, embracing and flying one flag. The emotional impact of that scene is impossible to underestimate. What do you suppose the people will do when the rebels go on the air and announce that they have united Germany under one government? Do you think they will demand a return to the status quo?”
Willy could easily see it. He’d spent enough time in the Federal Republic to know the deep longing the people had for a reunited country. Once the genie had been let out of the bottle, it could not be put back in. “The warheads will be their trump card,” he said. “The Soviets and NATO will have to back down.”
“Of course they will,” Heinz said. “Is Reagan willing to risk nuclear war with the Soviets over Germany?”
“Perhaps,” Willy said. “He has called them ‘the Evil Empire’.”
Heinz snorted. “Rhetorical claptrap! He is showing the Soviets he can’t be intimidated by them, as his predecessor was. The Russians understand power, Willy. You can only negotiate with them from a position of strength. With nuclear weapons, the new Germany will be able to do that. Within a month, all foreign troops will be off German soil for the first time in nearly forty years.”
“They’re using us,” Willy said slowly as the truth bloomed within his mind. “CAPRICORN, the Malvinas, it’s all just a part of the overall plan.”
“Of course!” Heinz stood again. “Willy, that’s always been the plan: to reunite Germany, under their leadership. Who do you think will be running the new Germany? What do you think the Reichsleiter will do once Berlin is secure and the Russians are gone?”
Willy looked up at him in alarm. “He means to return? To re-establish the Party? Heinz, that’s madness! The Russians will go insane!”
“Exactly,” Heinz said, kneeling in front of Willy. “At first, the new German government will be officially neutral between East and West. There will be not a whisper of Nazis returning. That will change once the foreign troops are gone. Weapons or not, the Russians will never allow the Nazi Party to rise again. They lost millions to Germany in the last war, Willy. They will fight to the death to prevent that from happening again. There will be another war in Europe, and when the dust has settled there, what do you think the Americans will do about us? They will see us as just an extension of the Nazis. Do you think Reagan will allow a nuclear-armed Nazi nation in his own hemisphere?”
Willy looked out the nearby window at the night. Thousands of feet below him, dark and sleeping, lay Argentina. His country, the land where he had been born, the land he was risking everything to build into a major power in the hemisphere. For so long, he’d believed the only way to do that was with CAPRICORN. They were so close. It would work. But it would be a trigger for something far more horrible. He looked at Heinz. “What can we do?”
Heinz sat down again and leaned forward intently. “There are several others within the Bund who have come to the same conclusion,” he said carefully. “Men of our generation. Argentines first, Germans second. We have decided there is a need for action.”
“I’m listening.”
“It is too late to stop CAPRICORN, but not too late to prevent it from touching off a catastrophe in Europe. The invasion of the Malvinas will go forward. The English fleet will sail to recapture them. We will launch the CAPRICORN attack, but we will make sure the pilot is one of our people. He will detonate the weapon well away from the English. At the same time, we will move on the government here. Sarmiento is with us. We will announce to the world that we have more weapons but do not wish to use them. Instead we wish to negotiate with the English over the Malvinas. At the same time, we will alert the Americans, and the Soviets, about VALKYRIE.”
Willy stood now as well, as agitated as Heinz. “What about the leadership of the Bund? What about the Reichsleiter? What about our own fathers?”
Heinz gripped Willy by the shoulders. “Sarmiento will have the Kabinett arrested. The Reichsleiter as well. Our fathers…well, we will do all we can for them. They may spend time in prison. The Reichsleiter, though, will be handed over to Israel. Sarmiento will be a hero. Argentina will gain enormous prestige. Think of it: we will have prevented World War Three, and given the Jews one of the men who planned the Holocaust. The English will probably sign over the Malvinas with gratitude.”
“This is a dangero
us game you are playing, Heinz. What if the Reichsleiter finds out? Or your father?”
Heinz held his head down, heavy with emotion. “It pains me greatly to work against my father, Willy. But I have to think of Argentina first. We have to think of our country.” He looked back at Willy. There was a fire in his blue eyes. “Germany will reunite eventually, Willy, with a democratic government. The Soviets will fall. Their economy can’t possibly compete with the Americans. Reagan intends to build up his defenses and the Soviets cannot match America. It’s inevitable. But that doesn’t mean we cannot make our own country strong and free, instead of a vassal of a new Nazi Germany. Or, worse yet, a pariah nation, blamed for touching off a nuclear war that kills millions.” He stood up as much as the cabin allowed. “But we need you, Willy. Are you with us?”
Willy’s heart was hammering. Everything he’d worked for, everything the Bund had worked for, all these years, supposedly for a strong Argentina…all a sham? A front? He thought of his father. Dieter had always been a good father to him, and Willy truly loved him. But, if Heinz was right, what Dieter and the rest of the Kameraden were doing was wrong. It was a betrayal of everything they’d been told the Bund stood for.
He looked straight at Heinz and made the toughest decision of his life. “I’m with you, my friend.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Munich, West Germany
Thursday, March 25th, 1982
“Any plans for the evening, Heinrich?” Colonel Johann Becker of the ASBw asked his adjutant.
“Not really, Herr Oberst,” Captain Heinrich Altmann said. “Dinner and then home for a good night’s rest.”
“Are you sure you’re not married, Heinrich?” Becker asked with a chuckle as he stuffed the last papers from his desk into his briefcase. He did not notice one file that had been partially hidden under the day’s edition of Suddeutsche Zeitung. It had, after all, been a long day. “I believe my Greta has sauerbraten on the menu this evening. Then I will have to help the boys with their homework. Then to bed, and tomorrow we do it all over again, eh?”
“As you often say, Herr Oberst, the excitement never stops,” Altmann said with a wry grin. In truth, he was often more than a little bored with his job. Serving in the Army of the Federal Republic had been his idea, but he’d dreamed of assignment to a front-line combat unit, perhaps ultimately as a Panzer commander as his grandfather had been in the last war. But here he was, twenty-seven years old and a staff officer in Military Intelligence. Interesting work, sometimes, but not thrilling. For thrills, lately, he’d come to seek out other things.
Becker reached for his overcoat on the nearby coat tree. “Well, Heinrich, if it’s excitement you crave, bear with me. Soon we may have more than we bargained for.”
That perked up Altmann’s ears. “Oh, Herr Oberst? Something is brewing?”
The question brought only an enigmatic smile from his superior. “Perhaps,” he said. “Perhaps not.” His coat and cap on, Becker picked up his briefcase. “See you tomorrow, Heinrich.”
“Good night, Herr Oberst.”
Paperwork occupied another half-hour of Altmann’s time. When the last paper had been put in his Ausgaben tray, it was nearly 1830 hours. As was his habit, Altmann got up to take a look around Becker’s inner office, just to make sure nothing was out of place. Like most German officers, Becker was efficient and neat, but occasionally he left something lying about that Altmann would put in its proper place. Tonight he could see nothing amiss except the newspaper. Becker normally read his paper right away in the morning, over his first cup of coffee, and then gave it to Altmann. Today something must have caught his superior’s eye; he’d probably laid it aside in the morning and come back to it later in the day.
Altmann picked up the paper and casually flipped through it. One item drew his attention. It had a small blue check mark next to it, Becker’s way of marking something of interest in a document. This story was a piece about a planned exercise by Bundeswehr troops in the vicinity of Baumholder, a city in the Rhine Valley west of Frankfurt. The U.S. Army’s 2nd Brigade, 1st Armored Division, was stationed at a large base outside of the city. The article noted that the base had recently been targeted by Green Party protestors who demanded that the stockpile of tactical nuclear warheads supposedly housed on the base be removed from the country. A Green leader was quoted, saying that the Bundeswehr maneuvers were the government’s way of disrupting the peaceful anti-nuclear protestors who only wanted a nuclear-free Germany.
Two other bits of information registered with Altmann. One was the planned date of the exercise: it was set to begin about three weeks from now. Another was a listing of participating German units. Panzergrenadierbrigade 32 was one of them, and Altmann recognized it because he knew it was commanded by a close friend of Oberst Becker’s, another oberst, what was his name? Oh, yes, Richard Mainz. The oberst had spoken of him before. Well, perhaps that explained Becker’s marking the story.
Altmann put the paper back on the desk and noticed the file that had been hidden underneath. It was bordered in blue, but it wasn’t an official ASBw file, that was certain. The markings on it were different. Not terribly so, but to a trained intelligence officer, they were apparent. Altmann quickly looked back at the door. Nobody there. He picked up the file.
Fifteen minutes later, Altmann put the file back on Becker’s desk and replaced the newspaper on top of it. His hands were shaking.
Altmann’s despair grew over his dinner, taken at a small restaurant in the Schwabing district. Why would his trusted superior completely exclude him from such an operation? The file on Becker’s desk had detailed the orders to Mainz and his unit of motorized infantry. During the upcoming maneuvers near Baumholder, Mainz was to break off from the main Heer battalion and assault the American base, securing the warhead storage facility and the base’s command-and-control structure. It was a daring and risky plan, but feasible. The Americans would never suspect brother NATO troops of such a thing. Becker’s notes suggested that similar strikes were to be made against the two other American nuclear strongholds in the Federal Republic and similar Soviet bases in the East. The whole operation was code-named VALKYRIE.
Altmann didn’t need to think hard about the overall aim: the overthrow of the government of the Federal Republic. And if such a thing were also happening in the East, then reunification would be the only possible logical goal. Reunification! Ein Volk, ein Heer, ein Vaterland! One people, one Army, one nation! The thought was staggering, but intoxicating.
But Altmann had been left out of the picture…
After his third beer, Altmann paid his bill and left the beer hall, somewhat unsteadily. Anger was starting to mix in with his anguish. How could Becker do this to him? After five years of faithful service. He’d made Altmann privy to many other sensitive ASBw and NATO operations. He said more than once that Altmann held great promise as an intelligence officer. And now this. The most important operation of all, and he was cut out of the picture.
Perhaps the oberst meant to bring him in later? There were still some three weeks to go, after all. Altmann shook his head and muttered as he passed a laughing, drunken American soldier with his arm around a pretty young German girl. No, he would’ve been in on the planning right from the beginning. Altmann was smart, he was inventive, Becker had told him that before. He could have contributed much to the planning of this VALKYRIE business.
Altmann began to feel the hunger deep inside him, as he did whenever he felt lonely or depressed. It was a hunger he’d first fed as a teenage boy, and despite its risks, its public veneer of disapproval, he’d felt moved to satisfy it several times since then. Now was one of those times.
He found the small storefront on the same side street it had been the last time. Of course it was. He entered, had a word with the woman behind the counter, paid his marks and was shown through a curtain and down a hall to a door. He knocked and entered. Lying seductively on a divan, the young man waited. “Hello, Heinrich,” he said. “
It’s been too long.”
***
Becker was in his private study, after a pleasant dinner with his wife and children, when he opened his briefcase and discovered the VALKYRIE file was missing. The cold needles of panic momentarily gripped him, but he took a deep breath and shrugged them off. He rapidly considered the possibilities. He knew he’d been studying the file that afternoon at his desk, after seeing the newspaper article he had planted. Stirring up the Greens was part of the plan; if the anarchists caused problems near Baumholder during the maneuvers, it would be only reasonable for the Heer commander in the field to detach a unit to assist the Americans with security. Richard’s unit would be the one for the job.
After checking his car and failing to turn up the file, Becker went back to his study and placed a call to the head of ASBw internal security for the Munich station, ordering him to seal off Becker’s office immediately. No one was to be allowed inside except for the oberst himself, who would be there shortly. After hanging up, Becker changed back into his uniform and placed another call. Altmann’s private phone rang several times before Becker broke the connection and called the security office again. “Hauptmann Altmann is not answering his phone,” he said. “Locate him and bring him to the office. You know where he’s likely to be found.” He hung up again, had a brief word with his wife, and left the house.
***
Matthias could hardly wait for the Schwuler to leave. This was only his second time with the young ASBw officer, and he’d struck gold long before he expected to. As during the first visit, Altmann requested certain services, which Matthias supplied with feigned enthusiasm. This time, though, he offered his guest a “popper”, a small bottle of butyl nitrate that produced a quick high when inhaled. One of its effects was the relaxation of the sphincter, which made it popular among homosexuals. This particular dose, provided to Matthias by his real employer, contained an additional chemical that acted almost like sodium pentothal.
The White Vixen Page 25