by Scott Palter
“A proper regime would call this murder, and punish the murder! This wasn’t an antipartisan operation or the heat of battle. He lined up civilians and shot them as inconvenient!”
“Yes. He did. We did the same with Himmler, Goebbels, and a few thousand others.”
“Not the same at all! Our officers acted under orders!”
“Orders that were deliberately left vague. The key targets were listed, and their entourages were more generally described.”
“That’s operational discretion. Saddle orders. How could they possibly know precisely who was with the main targets? Know who in the designated buildings would resist?”
Halder wearily shook his head. He knew for a fact that in the cases of both the Propaganda Ministry, and Party headquarters in Berlin, no quarter had been offered. The assigned officers chose to just gun down everyone. Why? No one ever bothered to ask them. He knew for a certain fact, that Heydrich’s further purges were mostly factional settling of scores within the SS and Party – coupled with subordinates being handed quotas to kill from particular headquarters or administrative groupings. Beck was beginning to get so tiresome that Halder was starting to have thoughts about doing a deal with Heydrich and Göring to replace the old man. Retire him on grounds of health or whatever. “So, we have an impasse. Heydrich is offering a general meeting to discuss this, as well as Jewish policy and Army-Party relations, at Wannsee. It will be Saturday the 12th. To keep discussion frank, he is sending his #2 Schellenberg. He proposes we do the same.”
Beck thought fast. “Who is Göring sending?”
“Does it matter? Whatever flunky he sends will prepare a memo the Reichsmarschall won’t read anyway. If we agree, he’ll tag along. Most policy bores him. He focuses on the ceremonial, the chief of state duties. At least he’s diligent about that.”
It took another hour and change worth of acrimony to deal with the other major issue, the Spanish volunteers. The Franco regime was sticking to rigid neutrality, with Germany’s blessings. Spain was wrecked, profoundly bankrupt. If it entered the war it would need vast aid – food, industrial goods, petroleum, coal, arms – and couldn’t do much with them while the British seized its remaining colonies. Yet Franco wanted to show favor. Hence the offer of a Spanish division of volunteers. Technically, these were Falange Party militants being offered on a party-to-party basis to the German National Socialists. However, the division was too big by Wehrmacht standards. It was a WW1 square division instead of modern triangular. The troops mostly had prior combat experience, but the Army didn’t see the silly civil war in Spain as a real war from which experience would produce useful cadres. Beck was adamant that he didn’t want these Latin clowns. So the Heer solution was to hand the mess to Heydrich with orders to use these Spanish in one of the Party militias. However, equipping this unit was not to come from the Army’s quotas on production.
2200 hours British Double Summer and CET
2 October 1940
Administrative offices of the War Cabinet Secretariat, Westminster, London
What a difference a few days make. London’s blackout was over. Blackout rules were now only in force within ten miles of the southern and eastern coasts of Britain. The public found the idea of no bombers, no blackouts, to be positively wonderful. Crowds were about in the streets, celebrating. They cheered Bevin, the royal family, and anyone in uniform they saw. The world might still be at war, but Britain itself felt again safe. News reports had German planes breaking off attacks on ships as they came within sight of land. The few European high altitude reconnaissance planes were regarded as a laughable nuisance.
The royals and the PM had toured the burned-out areas of the East End, the battered ports in the South. Rebuilding had already begun. What was going up wasn’t pretty, but this was wartime, and needs must.
Kim Philby had had a long chat with his control officer. He found the orders peculiar in the extreme. In the reorganization after Bevin’s accession to power, Philby had gotten himself posted to the War Cabinet Secretariat. With bombing ended, this bureaucracy was reclaiming real above-ground office space. Philby had what amounted to unlimited access to the entire paper flow to and from the actual rulers of the British Empire. His control told him this was priceless. Which meant that Philby should stop thinking of himself as an active asset. He must do nothing that risked betraying who he was. So when asked for advice, think like a good liberal Tory. Give the answer that most benefited the Empire, not what he thought might aid Stalin.
The example control had used, was this armored brigade at sea headed for Egypt. With the war in Africa expanding, the War Cabinet was split on whether to divert it to Nigeria or perhaps Kenya. Philby had been tasked with two others to provide a memo outlining the options. He was now being told to consider a purely British point of view, not what might benefit the Worker’s State.
The other order was to break now and permanently with his entire Cambridge circle. He was now too precious an asset to take any risks of cross-contamination from their activities. If quizzed by security officers, Moscow Center wanted Philby to have correspondence, witnesses, and the like showing an open and permanent breach. He was instructed to find personal reasons, different in each case. Philby must position himself as a reform Tory, one who might also be employed should Labor take power in its own right. As such he could have some visible sympathy for the working class, but none for the Soviet Union or British Communism. He was advised to pattern himself on Bevin, a man with whom the Soviets had repeatedly failed to establish ties.
The chief cause of this ‘promotion’, which in fact is what this all amounted to, was the information Philby had passed along on the MAUD Committee. This British project for a superbomb was of major interest to the NKVD. Philby was enjoined from seeking more data. Expendable assets would be risked on the penetration. Philby’s job was to pass along only such information on this and other technology projects as came his way in the normal course of his work day. Philby was not even to stand in the way of the new British plan to sell this information to the Americans. Just push for as high a price as possible.
1400 hours Pacific Daylight Time; 2300 hours CET
2 October, 1940
St. Francis Hotel, San Francisco, California
It was a luxury hotel, but definitely getting on in years. For today, it was also the headquarters of the US Presidency. FDR had finally been made to see that his reelection would take nonstop campaigning until election day in early November. So needed government decisions came to the prospective third-term President.
Led by Admiral James O. Richardson, a small delegation of US Naval officers had made a presentation on the need of naval air stations to supplement FDR’s new China policies. The proposal was for the acquisition of basing rights in Korea near Pusan, on an island called Okinawa, and, in China, on the Shantung peninsula and near Shanghai. This would allow both the proper anti-submarine patrols, and a more generalized search and rescue service for the East China Sea. Mentioned, but downplayed, was the probability that the Japanese would find such concepts unacceptable as regards Korea and Okinawa. Richardson kept the backup plan, to do all the patrols out of Shantung, in his vest pocket. He had found that presenting the political people with alternatives muddied the decision-making process. Plenty of time to show them Plan B if the Japanese rejected Plan A. The Japanese were phobic about foreign military on their soil. They were also at this moment desperate. The only way to find out how desperate, was to make the approach.
Franklin was at his pontificating best, responding in high-flown generalities and blowing off attempts to deal with specifics. It was not working this time. He could normally do his affable-oracle act for hours. He was starting to show his age; and more important, the effects of his various infirmities. He was experiencing a spectrum of maladies that his doctors linked to heart problems, stress, and smoking. FDR could blow the medicos off, but could no longer get his physical body to always keep up with his unconquerable spirit. In exasperatio
n he turned on Richardson and his confederates. “Gentlemen, please remember that you do work for me. I do not wish to deal with this on the level of detail you are pushing for.” He felt another twinge in his chest as he made his point. This angered him. He hated being boxed in by subordinates. He despised being betrayed by his body. Had since the polio; and refused to accept that aging applied to him.
The others stayed silent as Richardson spoke for them. The admiral was a consummate professional. “Yes Mr. President, we work for you. That is the design our Founders decreed, and we officers heartily concur in civil supremacy. More so in the case of your China policy than over your new war instructions for the Western Atlantic.” Richardson ignored the President’s angry look, and quietly continued to make his case. “The patrol zone in the Atlantic is a personal policy of yours. You are commander-in-chief. At least for now. You stand for election in five weeks. You may still be president next year. You may not. We serve the office of the president, not the occupant. Your China war policy is supported by your opponent Mr. Willkie, by the leadership of both Houses of Congress, by a large bulk of the most important elements of our national press, by our two most widely read national magazines. So it represents a national policy, in senses that your Atlantic policy doesn’t – or at least doesn’t yet.”
Roosevelt could not contain himself. “How dare you, sir! I can have you relieved.” His nostrils flared, but his breath was at the edge of ragged. Were they seriously threatening him?
Richardson was unaffected by the display of authority, by the obvious assertion of dominance. “Mr. President, you can relieve us at any time. You don’t need cause. You need not give reasons. Feel free to do so. But until you do, we will fulfill our oaths to the Constitution. Which requires us to, in private, give you our best professional advice. You seem to be taking my recitation of constitutional norms and political realities as a threat to your office and person. It is neither. Thank God our military are not political actors. Closest we came was McClellan and Lincoln. Pray God such idiocy will never happen again. We senior officers look to the political branch for our marching orders. By normal standards, we have clear, firm marching orders on China; we do not on the Western Atlantic patrol zone. If we misunderstand the constitutional, legal, and political realities, please enlighten us. These are not our areas of specialty. This is the best advice of staff we have with such knowledge. I’m sorry you saw my comment adversely. All I meant to do was explain the situation as your senior naval people see it.” Richardson had not been placating. He had been clearly subordinate.
The President managed to get his personable, populist mask back up. “What would make you Navy boys calmer about the Atlantic mission?”
Richardson was glad of the opening. “A joint resolution from Congress. Gets them on the record. Inhibits their usual pattern of pouncing on a policy, and the service carrying it out, at the first setback or casualty.” He saw FDR’s face start to cloud. “It doesn’t even take enemy action, Mr. President. The North Atlantic is a storm-filled sea in winter, and winter is coming. One extra large wave washes six draftees overboard to their deaths, and Congress will get goaded by the press into questioning why they weren’t consulted. It’s a political matter, therefore your sole decision. But you did ask … ”
Roosevelt filed the idea away. It wasn’t a bad one, but he didn’t need this debate during an election campaign. Better for a lame-duck session of Congress after the votes were counted. He’d be stronger then. He motioned Richardson to continue. Best to hear all the Navy’s quibbles now, and dismiss them once and for all.
The admiral had waited patiently while his political master worked out the obvious in his head. FDR was actually more transparent than he realized, at least to skillful players of bureaucratic games. “You have dictated two quasi-wars.” Roosevelt shot him a look. “It’s the wording used for our first naval war against the French back in John Adams’ only term. It’s a way to say limited, undeclared conflict. These policies put us at war with the two most heavily armed nations in the world, Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia. You have made quasi-allies of the British Empire, the Empire of Japan, and a Japanese puppet regime of questionable actual sovereignty in Shanghai.” FDR gave Richardson a smile, saying he now understood the jargon. Quasi-allies. No formal alliance, but joint action against joint enemies for the present and near future. FDR had committed the US to the survival of the Chinese Christians, and the safeguarding of the British Isles from the Nazis. He nodded at Richardson, who went on again, “The legalities and morality of this I leave to the press, Congress and the patricians over at the State Department. The foreign service seems to obsessively concern itself with legalities and a more generalized cosmopolitan moralism. The only time we in the Navy see them get practical, is when financial and banking issues are at stake. Why you care which of three supposed Chinese governments rule is not the Navy’s concern. Why Japan invaded China or the Soviets set out to conquer Manchuria is again not of concern to the Navy. What matters is that you wish us to protect the East China Sea. For this we need more than ships. We need landbased four-engine planes to use for reconnaissance and anti-submarine patrol. The US has two such planes in production, the B-17 and the Liberator. You have given all the production of these to the British and the Air Corps. Actually, your designated subordinates have allocated more than 100% of this production. We are told to make do with lesser planes, with Catalina’s and various two-engine bombers. Most of which are again allocated to the same two places. We cannot even use obsolete bombers. You already gave those away to the British for bases. Absent the tools, we cannot do the job. A job you have staked your prestige on. Do you wish the job done or not, Mr. President?”
Roosevelt lost his temper at this point. He flared. He shrieked. He tore the assembled officers new anal passages. He relieved Richardson on the spot. Told him to report to Shanghai to take charge of the river gunboat squadron. Richardson saluted, did a perfect about-face, and left. He had done his job. When this mess blew up in the President’s face, the Navy would not take the fall. There were too many witnesses in the room. Everything in Washington leaked to the press. In the meantime, let Kimmel, his obvious successor, try to square circles over ends and means. FDR’s two forward deployments were disasters waiting to happen.
0500 hours local; 0400 hours CET
3 October 1940
HQ Mason’s brigade, now in what was originally 7th Division frontage at north end of the lines
Dawn would soon be breaking. Mason’s staff was running around trying desperately to get people and equipment under overhead cover before the daily air attacks began. Major movements could only be done at night, and even then losses were taken from artillery fires preregistered during daylight on key movement nodes.
Given this, 8th Army staff’s incessant regroupings made no sense. Two world wars now where the headquarters wallahs at division and higher were gangs of twits that seemed like prefects at a third-rate public school. The division frameworks were left in place. Division headquarters, the artillery, the depots, the support services, were all in the three sectors parceled out when the line was formed. The line ran 7th – 6th – 8th from north to south. However, no division had any of its original brigades. Some brigades had seen battalions swapped out. In a few cases companies had been swapped out of battalions. Idiots! These three formations were divisions by courtesy. All this to and fro just made the unit cohesion even more imaginary, the training standards ever lower. It also made the squads and platoons who would do the actual fighting even more sleep-deprived, and with ever less idea of the fine detail of the ground they would be fighting over.
London was sending updates several times a week, but the core message remained the same. The Hun was building up to a major push the end of the month. There would be a full army offensive backed by a thousand tanks and more than a thousand fighting planes. Britain had under a hundred fighting vehicles available, and more than half of those were armored cars. Just about all were rebui
lds with nothing like full proper function. Even with weekly reinforcements, air strength rarely rose to two dozen planes. The army was short of artillery, crew-served weapons, and mines. The so-called plan amounted once again to dying in place, because a retreat was politically inexpedient.
Mason was shamelessly milking his connections and Guards status to minimize the ill effects on his brigade. Fleming’s companion brigade seemed to be relying on manipulations centering on their most peculiar officer, Money-Penny. Mason had made use of the man’s services a few times. He was a gentleman in the formal sense, but very much of a demimonde rouge agent in Mason’s opinion. And yet … and yet he was damned effective. His latest coup was assembling for Fleming a small mechanized reserve of three Matilda's, two cruiser tanks, half a dozen mixed types of armored cars, and three dozen Bren gun carriers. Officially it was a repair shop, and supposedly none of these vehicles functioned properly. When they sortied with the Jewish raiding parties, it was described as road testing of incomplete repairs. The man and his confederates seemed to have no scruples. But damn, Mason could use such a reserve himself.