Ragnarok (Twilight of the Gods Book 3)

by Christopher Nuttall

  He smiled, rather coldly. The Gauleiters were meeting, plotting against him ... did they think he hadn't noticed? But they couldn't overthrow him. A Fuhrer could not be removed from office, save by force ...

  ... And their forces had been sent west to confront the rebels or east to protect the settlements.

  They will be purged too, he promised himself. There were just too many Gauleiters who were disloyal to him. The entire position needed to be rethought, perhaps replaced by men who would do his bidding and nothing else. Once the rebels are defeated, I will reshape the Reich so I can lead it into a glorious future.

  He took another sip, enjoying the taste. His position was secure. Gudrun, for all her defiance, could do nothing to save herself; the Provisional Government, hundreds of miles away, would fall apart as it struggled to build a new order; the Gauleiters¸ ambitious bastards to a man, were powerless. And while there had been some setbacks, the future was bright and full of promise. The inevitable American collapse would allow the Reich to finally realise its destiny of ruling and reshaping the entire world.

  And soon, he promised the city silently, the entire world will look like you.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Emergency Airfield, Germany East

  16 November 1985

  Unterscharfuehrer Edwin Telkamp cursed under his breath as the dawn rose, cursing his commanding officer under his breath. There had been no bandit attacks this close to Germanica for years - and they were hundreds of miles from the war front - but the asshole insisted on Edwin and his men standing guard in front of the gates at all hours. Edwin would have obeyed orders - happily - as a young man, but as an older man it seemed remarkably pointless. He’d been recalled to the military and assigned to guard an airfield in the middle of nowhere, rather than defending his farm ... he had no idea what his wife and daughters were going to do in the coming year. His three sons had also been called up ...

  He gritted his teeth. The cold was seeping into his bones more than usual, but the CO didn't give a damn. It was alright for him, Edwin supposed; the bastard had spent the night in a cot, not standing in the bitter cold staring into the darkness. Edwin had wound up keeping his men moving in and out of the guardhouse all night, catching some heat before they walked back out into the cold. He didn't know if it was any good, but without the tiny heater in the guardhouse he had a feeling they would all have frozen to death before the sun rose.

  Bastards, he thought, crossly. They could have just forgotten about me.

  He scowled at the thought. He’d done his service, hadn't he? He’d put in fifteen years as a stormtrooper, patrolling the settlements to the east and hunting down bandits and other threats to the Volk. His long tour on the Chinese border had been particularly gruelling, which was why he’d retired and returned to the family farm to raise his family. But now he was back in the uniform, patrolling an airfield built for a war that had never come ...

  ... And then he heard the engines.

  He tensed as a line of armoured patrol vehicles came into view, heading straight towards the airfield. They looked normal, flying standard pennants in the morning sun, but the bandits were known for being devious. And yet, he found it hard to believe that nine patrollers could have been captured and put to work. Most of the bandits simply didn't know how to drive!

  The lead vehicle came to a halt outside the gate. Its hatches opened a moment later, disgorging a dozen men in Volkssturm uniforms. They looked younger than he’d expected ... he felt a flicker of anger as he realised that most of the soldiers would have gone into the Volkssturm to escape service on the eastern front. But the joke was on them now, he knew; a number of Volkssturm units had been dispatched west to confront the rebels. He stepped forward ...

  ... And froze as a rifle was jabbed into his chest.

  “Make a sound, any sound, and you’re dead,” his captor growled.

  Edwin stared in utter shock as his men were rounded up, searched and then cuffed while two of the intruders opened the gates. Who were they? There was no way that they were bandits, not when they were clearly Germans. And yet ... he gritted his teeth as the Volkssturm drove up to the control tower and stormed it, probably capturing everyone before they could get a message out. If it was a security inspection - and it was a possibility - he had to admit that they’d just failed. The commander was probably going to be reassigned to the eastern front after losing so badly ...

  ... But there was something about the way they moved that suggested otherwise.

  “On your feet,” a voice growled. “March.”

  Edwin tested the cuffs lightly as they were frog-marched towards the nearest hangar. They were tight, almost certainly unbreakable. The tricks he knew for escaping his bonds were probably worthless. There was no way out, no way to pass the test - or escape to warn their superiors if it wasn't a test. Whatever happened, they had lost ...

  ... And he had no idea what would happen next.

  ***

  Kurt allowed himself a moment of relief as it became clear that the airfield guards hadn't had a chance to transmit a warning message before they were overwhelmed and captured. They hadn't been very alert at all, despite being in the middle of Germany East. But then, most of the guards were old enough to be his father and their commander didn't seem to take his job very seriously. They were a long way from any actual threat.

  The airfield itself was really nothing more than a back-up for other airfields, located to the north or the east. Kurt had been on several airfields in his career, but he had to admit that the emergency airfield was easily the least impressive of them all, really nothing more than a pair of runways designed for heavy bombers, a couple of empty hangars and a single mid-sized control tower. He was surprised that Germanica thought the airfield was worth the trouble of guarding. But the radar network covering Germany East had been taking a battering ever since the civil war began - and hadn't been designed to track aircraft coming from the west in any case - so he supposed the radar station had needed some protection.

  But not enough, he thought, as he searched the control tower to make sure that no one had been missed during the first sweep. We practically walked in and took the place.

  He shrugged. The airfield had been practically abandoned for months, perhaps years. There were no signs of individuality in the handful of rooms, save for a pornographic magazine someone had dumped on the floor before leaving. Nearly all of the supplies, save for a medical kit, had been cleaned out as well. Kurt was surprised the fuel dump had been left intact - he could think of some other uses for aviation fuel - but he knew better than to question their good fortune. It was about time something went their way.

  “The base is secure, Herr Hauptmann,” one of the soldiers said.

  “Very good,” Kurt said. He sucked in a breath. “Send the signal. Tell them we are ready for them.”

  “Jawohl.”

  “And then check the runways,” Kurt added. “We want them completely free of ice.”

  ***

  I'm too old for this shit, Herman thought.

  He’d been a paratrooper, true, but it had been over ten years since he’d last jumped out of a plane. It wasn't something he'd had to do as a policeman. But everyone with paratrooper training - save for the handful who were too old or infirm to make the jump safely - had been called to a secret airbase, told they were being prepped for a mission and then warned that they weren't allowed to leave on pain of death. If there hadn't been nearly a hundred young men - with far more recent experience - included he might have seriously considered trying to get out of the mission.

  He shuddered awake as the plane started to descend. Nothing had changed, it seemed, in the last ten years. The planes were still uncomfortable, the pilots were still crazy, and the racket was just barely short of unbearable. He’d been told that the planes were designed to encourage the paratroopers to jump as quickly as possible, but he'd dismissed it as obvious nonsense. Even if someone wanted to ensure that the paratroopers jumped
out without hesitation, the pilots would still be in the planes. Unless something went spectacularly wrong, of course.

  The entire airframe shook, violently. He cursed under his breath, reminding himself sharply that turbulence just had to be endured. He’d never been entirely comfortable flying through heavy turbulence, even though the pilots had often reassured him that turbulence was largely harmless. He liked to be in control and being in a plane, one that felt as though it was being tossed around the sky by an angry god, was the exact opposite of being in control.

  They should have recalled more young men from South Africa, he thought, as the plane hit the ground and bounced. They’d have more experience in landing on top of an enemy position.

  He gritted his teeth as the plane came down for a second time and landed properly, skidding along the runway as if there was nothing slowing it down. The engines whined loudly as they went into reverse, the plane careening from side to side before finally slowing down enough to turn right and get off the runway. Herman sighed in relief - the other aircraft would be landing within a very tight window - and forced himself to relax. They’d landed safely, no matter how unnatural it felt ...

  “You’ll have ten minutes to walk around and stretch your legs,” the CO said, briskly. “But don’t go beyond the fence.”

  Herman nodded as he joined the line of soldiers hurrying towards the rear doors and scrambling down to the ground. The air was bitterly cold, the ground coated in grit designed to keep the runaway from icing over. It looked deserted, save for a handful of armoured vehicles sitting near the control tower. A low roar echoed through the air as the remaining aircraft landed, one by one. Thankfully, they all made it down safely.

  Maybe not so old after all, Herman thought. He hadn't realised how much he’d missed the life until he returned to it. There was something about being in the military, even during a civil war, that was more honest than being a policeman. It feels almost like coming home.

  He pinched a cigarette from one of the younger men and lit it, taking a deep breath. His wife would disapprove of him smoking - particularly on an airfield - but he needed something to help calm his nerves. Besides, there was a very good chance they wouldn't be returning. The briefing had made it clear that they either had to win completely or die. And if they lost, no one would remember their names.

  “Father,” a voice said.

  Herman spun around. Kurt was standing there, wearing a Volkssturm uniform that looked to have been sewn for a man two or three sizes bigger than him. Herman stared, then reached out and gave his son a tight hug. It had been too long since he’d seen Kurt ...

  “She’s alive,” Kurt said, as he led Herman away from the others. “Father, she’s alive!”

  “Thank God,” Herman breathed. “Are you sure?”

  “I asked ...our contact to ask her something only she would know,” Kurt said. “And the correct answer came back.”

  “Good,” Herman said. He trusted Kurt to get it right. He’d always been close to Gudrun, closer than Herman had ever been to his own sisters. But then, Gudrun and Kurt weren't that far apart in age. “I hope you’re sure.”

  “I am,” Kurt said.

  Herman hoped he was right. His children would have been horrified by just how much their father knew about them, even though he had to admit that he’d missed the signs that Gudrun was involved with the protest movement. Secrets weren't always secrets in small households, no matter how closely they were kept. But Kurt and Gudrun probably had some shared memories that no one else knew. He just hoped they weren't being set up for a nasty fall.

  Kurt met his eyes. “How is mother? And the brats?”

  “Your younger brothers are fine,” Herman said, sternly. He’d hoped that Kurt would be a decent older brother to Johan and Siegfried, but they were really too far apart in age for genuine friendship. Johan and Siegfried looked up to Kurt, he knew, and that was about the best anyone could hope for. “Your mother is ... is still politicking, I'm afraid.”

  “Oh,” Kurt said. “I’m sure she’ll do well.”

  Herman shrugged. Really, he was too old to care about what others thought of him. Or at least he should be. And he’d survived the occasional snide remark about his daughter smoothing out his career path. But the part of him that was too stubborn to change was reluctant to accept that his wife had changed. He didn't know if he’d ever get used to it.

  “The world is changing,” he said. “And some of the changes are better than others.”

  He looked back towards the aircraft. There was no way he’d be allowed to stay in the military after the war, no matter what happened. And he doubted he would be able to return to the police force. But perhaps he could join the Volkssturm ...

  A whistle blew. It was time to go.

  “I’m coming too,” Kurt said, as they walked back towards the plane. “I’ll see you on the far side.”

  Herman flinched. It was uncommon for fathers and sons to serve together - hell, it was rare for brothers to serve together - and there were good reasons for it. But the whole operation had been thrown together in a tearing hurry anyway. Reading between the lines, Herman had a nasty feeling the entire force had been deemed expendable if all hell broke loose. It might explain why his superiors had authorised him - and the other older men - to join the mission.

  “Very well,” he said, finally. There was no way he could say no. Kurt was a man now - he’d been a man since he’d joined the Berlin Guard - and was no longer subject to his father’s edicts. And really, what sort of man would Kurt have become if he still allowed his father to rule his life. “Just make sure you survive or I’ll kill you personally.”

  Kurt shot him a deadpan look. “I’ll try my best.”

  Herman smiled as they climbed into the aircraft. He was proud of Kurt. He was proud of all his children. And Gudrun ... he shook his head, torn between a multitude of feelings. She might have been a girl, but she'd changed the entire world. He was proud of her, more proud than he could ever say, yet he was also fearful for her life. Gudrun meant more to him, in some ways, than any of his sons. He’d always tried to protect her more than anyone else ...

  ... And how much of that, he asked himself, was because she was my daughter?

  He mulled it over, covering his ears as the aircraft engines came to life. He’d always seen his sons as needing to learn some lessons on their own, even if those lessons came with a price. Their bumps and bruises would teach harder lessons than his words. But he’d always been protective of his daughter. In an ideal world, she would have been safe for the rest of her life.

  But it wasn't what she wanted, he thought. The aircraft lurched into the sky, shaking backwards and forwards as it grabbed for air. And I may have been wrong.

  He was honest enough to admit that he might have been wrong, despite his fears. If he’d forbidden her from going to the university, he could have made it stick. Gudrun was in his charge until she married. But she wouldn't have been happy, he saw now. She would have seen him as a monster, even though he would only have her best interests at heart. And she might have been right.

  The world is changing, he reminded himself. All the stories young children read featured women as housewives or mothers or sisters. Young girls just didn't have adventures. But Gudrun had written a whole new story, changing the entire world. And I no longer belong.

  ***

  “Herr Oberstgruppenfuehrer?”

  Alfred turned. It had been a tense night, ever since Forster had warned him that the attack was due to begin the following morning. The prospect of being caught had never been so high. And yet, part of him was almost relieved. Hurry up and wait had been a part of military life ever since the first caveman had bashed his enemy’s head in with a rock. The prospect of action, no matter how risky, was always to be welcomed.

  “Yes?”

  “Herr Oberstgruppenfuehrer, radar has detected a flight of aircraft moving towards Germanica,” the operator said. “Their IFF signals don’t match
anything in our records.”

  “They’re holding a drill,” Alfred said. “The Fuhrer wants you to track them carefully, but take no action.”

  The operator saluted, hastily. Alfred allowed himself a tight smile as the younger man turned away. A smart operator would have questioned allowing a dozen heavy aircraft to fly over the city, particularly now the nuclear genie had been let out of the bottle, but Karl Holliston had ensured that no one wanted to ask questions. He’d purged several senior officers in the last two days for questioning some of his more ... extreme ... orders. And so the aircraft would fly over Germanica with no one doing anything to stop them.

  Not that we can, he thought, sourly. The city’s antiaircraft defences had been formidable, but half the weapons had been stripped out and sent to the front. And they’d been of very limited value in a war zone. As long as the pilots are lucky, they’ll get in without a fight.

  ***

  “Outboard personnel, stand up,” the jumpmaster barked. “We’re crossing the city limits now.”