Winds of Change (Empires Lost Book 2)

by Charles S. Jackson

  “We have direct orders from Reuters that we’re to support the Italians here in any way possible,” Nehring shot back immediately, quite rightly considering the idea of ignoring a directive of the Reichsmarschall as something that couldn’t be taken lightly. He’d also caught the veiled implication Dietrich had included in his last statement that Nehring was more of a ‘pen pushing clerk’ than a combat commander, something that was far from the truth and also quite insulting. “Herr Rommel repeated the same instructions himself at the last meeting of the African general staff not two weeks ago! Do you think it’ll be easy to explain if one of Il Duce’s crack armoured divisions is wiped out and it’s proven we did nothing to prevent that?” Do you think even the Reichsführer-SS has the authority to override Reuters’ orders with impunity?”

  “Old ‘Reichsheini’ wouldn’t dare,” Dietrich dismissed the idea bluntly, using a derogatory nickname often uttered in reference to Heinrich Himmler as a sneer of contempt momentarily showed in his features. “His tongue’s buried too far up Reuters’ arse to ever consider such a move!”

  The off-colour imagery almost caused Nehring to wince visibly, however both men knew the sentiment behind that statement was true enough. The absorption of the Waffen-SS into the greater Wehrmacht as a fully-fledged fighting service had required overall tactical control to be passed to the OKW, and Reichsführer-SS Heinrich Himmler remained its titular head in spirit only as a result (although the man certainly still wielded complete control over the non-combat arms of the Schutzstaffeln).

  The future of both the Waffen-SS and the Wehrmacht overall were now so closely and utterly intertwined that it was impossible for Himmler to exert any external pressure on either service had he actually wanted to, and Dietrich ranked high enough in the chain of command to have witnessed that fact for himself on a number of occasions. Many – Himmler included – chose to view the current situation as ‘pragmatism’ while Dietrich and a number of the more fanatical SS staff officers used another, far more derogatory term: impotence.

  “Of course… there’s still one person who can countermand any order issued by the office of the Oberbefehlshaber der Wehrmacht,” Dietrich countered softly after a moment’s thought. “Should I perhaps speak directly to The Führer? He’s always happy to hear from an old friend in need of advice…”

  “No…!” Nehring shot back quickly, the fearful quaver in his voice all too evident. “That won’t be necessary!” As one of the ‘Old Guard’ – one of Hitler’s original NSDAP ‘musclemen’ and a member of his first bodyguard troop – Sepp Dietrich was well-known to have ready access to The Führer and it was had on good authority that on at least one occasion before the war, his closeness to the German Chancellor had allowed him to even ‘ban’ Himmler himself from visiting the Leibstandarte’s barracks without fear of retribution. It was unlikely the man had sufficient sway with Hitler to really cause Nehring any trouble, but there was enough doubt over the matter to not make it worth finding out for certain.

  “That won’t be necessary,” the general repeated a moment later, having composed himself once more. He released a long, exasperated sigh of resignation as he reached out and picked up one of the photographs, staring at it long and hard and wondering at the real power of the vehicle he saw therein. “You have my word I’ll think up some feasible excuse to hand the Italians. The main assault will be delayed until the generalfeldmarschall returns to Cairo to take command, but this probing attack will be all over by then in any case.”

  “Just in time for the Wehrmacht to go in for real and smash the Tommis back into the Red Sea!” Dietrich boasted fervently, eyes alight with righteous zeal. “Mark my words, Herr General: once Suez falls and Egypt is finally ours, not even Reuters will care about the death of a few hundred ‘Makkaroni’!”

  Junction Hotel, Tocumwal

  New South Wales, Australia

  September 25, 1942

  Friday

  The fine weather that had graced the Riverina and Murray Basin areas of Southern New South Wales during the first half of the month had well and truly disappeared as October drew ever closer, leaving overcast skies and thunderstorms in its wake. The heavy overnight rains had dissipated before dawn on that particular Friday morning however the thick blanket of black-grey cloud that stretched unbroken to each horizon made it quite clear that more wet weather was definitely on the way.

  That being said, the running of a hotel continued on regardless. Rain, hail or shine, kegs needed to be changed, taps checked, glasses cleaned and floors swept in preparation for the day’s business. With beer now rationed in Australia along with many other luxuries and basic foodstuffs, many pubs around the country were feeling the pinch when it came to supplying alcohol.

  The Junction however was more fortunate that most: with a large military installation nearby – particularly one with a high level of American servicemen present at any one time – the establishment had been provided with several exemptions from normal rationing requirements to better enable them to keep those military personnel entertained. There was also added assistance in the form of copious supplies of popular American beer brands, compliments of the United States Army Air Corps. One such delivery had arrived at the Junction that morning: several dozen kegs of Schlitz, direct from Milwaukee, were being unloaded by a trio of US servicemen, each keg plastered with a colourful sticker proclaiming the ‘health benefits’ of choosing the brand, filled as it was with ‘Sunshine – Vitamin-D’

  With Maude away in town visiting the bank and picking up some general odds and ends, it was left to Lizzie and Briony to tidy up and make sure the pub was prepared for opening and the afternoon ‘rush’. In truth, neither minded all that much. Things generally seemed to run far more smoothly without Maude present and both the Morris ‘girls’ were happy to take on the extra work required in exchange for a lack of the arguments, insults and general condescension that usually accompanied Maude’s half-hearted attempts at helping out.

  Briony was too busy looking forward to her afternoon lessons to care about hard work, in any case. Well known around the area, she’d been banned from attending the local primary and secondary schools over the years due to complaints from other students’ parents who took offence at their children being ‘forced’ to associate with someone of mixed descent. Two of Alex Bolton’s own children also attended the local high school in any case and even without other complaints, there was little likelihood the principal would’ve consciously taken any action that might potentially have humiliated one of the most powerful landowners in the area. While no one who knew Briony’s story would’ve dared to imply or insinuate that Eliza Morris had been raped, neither was anyone at the school foolish enough to accept the enrolment of the half-caste Aboriginal child that was the scandalous offspring of Bolton’s well-known, so-called ‘infidelity’.

  For that reason, Briony had spent her entire educational life being schooled at the same Catholic Church at which her mother had first received sanctuary so many years before. Generally-speaking, it was Brandis in his role as curate who provided most of the lessons, although the church housekeeper, Edwina Tuttle, had also assisted in teaching Briony during the man’s many long absences over the years. Briony loved her lessons and she loved learning in general, and both Brandis and Mrs Tuttle had been eager to ensure the young girl’s passion for knowledge was maintained and allowed to grow.

  As soon as Briony was finished helping out that morning, she would be heading straight over to the church for her daily schooling, and in her excitement and anticipation she had no time to curse or bemoan a few hours’ hard work beforehand. Hair tied back in a long pony-tail and clothed in a simple, white cotton dress covered by a thin, wraparound apron she eagerly went about the task of sweeping up as if it were no effort at all.

  Down in the cellar, helping the US airmen unload, Lizzie had left Briony upstairs to finish up with a final sweep through and check of the beer taps and such like. At that point, she was completely unaware t
hat there’d been a fourth passenger in the cab of the truck that stood parked up on the street, its tailgate backed in at the edge of the cellar ramp to facilitate unloading. Busy as she was in stacking and ticking off the kegs downstairs, she saw nothing of Eddie as he avoided his hard-working colleagues and quietly slipped through the nearest unlocked entrance to the main bar.

  “Mornin’, kiddo…” He called out softly with a broad, almost-sincere grin as he instantly spied Briony sweeping behind the bar. “Aunt Maudie not around…?”

  “N – no, she’s… she’s in town getting some messages,” Briony answered with a faltering quickness that immediately showed a vague nervousness about being discovered there alone.

  “Aww, that’s a real shame, ain’t it!” Eddie continued as he walked slowly toward her, the broad, toothy smile never leaving his face as he threaded his way between the chairs and tables. Maude had already told him she’d not be in that morning – something Eddie had in fact been counting on when he’d learned the beer delivery was leaving the base – but the pretence at least provided an excuse for him to be there.

  “I – I don’t think she’ll be back until this arvo,” Briony stammered, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as Eddie approached, although for the life of her she couldn’t have provided a conscious reason for her sudden misgivings.

  “That’s okay, kid,” Eddie’s grin grew even wider, if that were actually possible. “…Your ma not here either? Not real fair, them leavin’ you all alone to clean up the joint!” The statement was an ostensibly innocent one, however rather than come across as sympathising it served only to heighten the young girl’s tension by highlighting how alone she actually was in that bar with Eddie. Briony could hear the crashing of kegs below and the accompanying shouts of working soldiers, and she was fairly sure it would be all but impossible for anyone downstairs to hear her over such a din should there be any need for her to call for help.

  “Mum’s downstairs,” she shot back quickly, attempting to make it clear there was assistance nearby, but Eddie could hear the raucous sounds of work going on below as well as she and he wasn’t buying it.

  “You’re a pretty girl, you know that?” Eddie asked as he reached the opposite, customer’s side of the bar. The pretence of harmless conversation was quickly disappearing as a positively lascivious tone crept into his voice. “How old are ya?”

  “Fourteen last March,” she answered quickly, a little iron in her own voice now as she stiffened visibly, forcing herself to appear unafraid.

  “Look more like sixteen or seventeen to me, sweetie…” Eddie replied instantly, giving a little wink that Briony didn’t quite understand but decided she didn’t like one bit all the same. “Bet you drive the boys ‘round here crazy...!”

  The man’s presence was becoming more disturbing by the minute but despite her youth and relatively sheltered upbringing, Briony was of hardy stock all the same, having inherited plenty of her mother’s inner strength and courage. Even for an utterly inexperienced young teenager, the sinister nature of his words was now quite evident and as much as Eddie disgusted her, his behaviour was also raising her temper. Although Briony Morris had no formal learning with regard to the concepts of sex, lust or desire, she’d nevertheless learned enough of men from her mother’s attitudes and quite legitimate prejudices to know that, on-the-whole, they weren’t to be trusted.

  “You’re not allowed in here when we’re not open,” she added, thinking quickly. “We could get into trouble if we get caught with customers in here out of hours.”

  “No need to worry about that, honey,” he began, making his best effort to turn on what he considered his best ‘charms’, “I didn’t come here for a drink…”

  He made a sudden move toward the far end of the bar, as if to come around to Briony’s side, but was stopped cold by the diminutive figure of a wild Eliza Morris, all the rage and righteous fury one would expect of a protective mother showing clearly in her eyes.

  “You can stop right there, fella!” She hissed vehemently, barring his way and lifting herself up on tiptoes as she pushed herself right up into his face, causing him to take an unexpected step backward in reflex. “You got another thing comin’ if ya think yer going the other side o’ that bar! Place is closed and you’ve got no right bein’ in here!” Eliza had caught enough of what was going on as she’d reached the top of the cellar stairs to know the man was up to no good and she hadn’t thought twice about jumping forward in defence of her only child.

  “I weren’t doin’ nuthin’, lady,” Eddie countered, trying to keep his cool as he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, as if the action might somehow calm the woman down. “Just tryin’ to be friendly is all…”

  “You were lookin’ to be a bloody-sight more than just friendly, Yank!” Eliza snarled back into his face. Having none of it, she slapped away his reaching arm, following through on the same movement by pushing her pointed fingers into the middle of his chest and forcing him another step back. “Get on outta her right now before I report ya to the ‘redcaps’ and have ya dragged out!”

  “Are you threatenin’ me…?” Eddie came at her in an instant, all his animal rage and lust barely contained as he used his bulk to force Eliza back against the bar. Indignant and courageous as she was, in that moment she saw the insane fire in the man’s eyes and realised that both of them were suddenly and completely out of their depth. “Goddamned nigger: gonna rat on me to the ‘MPs are ya?” His face was close to hers once more and Eliza was forced to turn her head slightly to avoid the stench of his breath as he snarled his words at her with teeth bared. “No dame’s gets one up on me! Those ones in Melbourne tried to get me in trouble, but Buddy fixed every one o’ them bitches!”

  The urge to wrap his fingers around Eliza’s throat at that moment was almost irresistible, and Eddie himself would later be unable to say how close he actually came to the ‘point of no return’ as his hands began to lift from his sides as if possessed by a mind of their own. It was all for nought in the end however as another completely unexpected voice interrupted and completely defused the tense standoff.

  “Is this a private party or can anyone join in?” Dressed in a priest’s cloak and collar and speaking from inside the same doorway through which Eddie had entered just a few moments earlier, Brandis stood calmly with his hands behind his back, watching the entire scene with a dark intensity.

  “None of God’s business or yours here, padre…!” Eddie shot back instantly, teeth bared as if ready to attack Brandis also. He thought better of it a few seconds later and moved back slightly, giving enough distance for Eliza to at least return to a more comfortable, upright position and slip free, joining her daughter on the other side of the bar. “No problem here, father,” He added quickly, forcing a more conciliatory tone into his words. “Me and the ladies were just havin’ a friendly chat.”

  “Your chats are only friendly ‘til ‘Buddy’ joins in aren’t they, Private Leonski?” Brandis countered, the use of Eddie’s rank and surname leaving the man slightly unnerved. “I think you and Buddy ought to get back to the truck: your friends are waiting for you.”

  Indeed, even as those words were spoken, Eddie could now hear one of the airmen outside calling his name as another gunned the engine of the truck outside. With the spell of the moment completely broken, Private Eddie Leonski suddenly felt very alone in that pub with all eyes turned in his direction.

  “Tell yer Aunt Maudie I came by, won’t ya…?” He said finally, forcing some cheer into his voice as he directed the last remark at Briony with a grin and made a show of lifting a finger to his cap, as if in a sign of respect. Without another word, he turned on his heels and made for the doorway once more, requiring a substantial amount of effort to restrain himself from breaking into a run

  Brandis moved aside just enough to allow him passage as Eddie stepped through, turning his body ninety degrees to face him as the American stepped through and disappeared outside.

  Kill
him! Go out there, kill him now, and do everyone a favour! It’ll save time later!

  “Thought I’d drop by and give Briony a ride to her lessons,” Brandis explained slowly, releasing a long-held breath as he ignored the powerful, insistent command that formed and died within his mind in those seconds. “Looks like it was a good thing I did!”

  “You’re a saviour from God Himself, Father James,” Eliza exclaimed in a voice shaking with fear and relief, embracing her daughter tightly in her arms as Briony burst into tears and buried her face in her mother’s shoulder. “A fair-dinkum headcase, that one is! What would we do without you bein’ there to save the day, as usual?”

  “No need to worry about that, Liz,” Brandis replied quickly, tension showing in his own voice as the single word – Liar! – blossomed with accusation in his mind. While neither mother nor daughter was looking his way, he took the opportunity to quickly remove his shaking hands from behind his back and conceal beneath his robes the large, silenced automatic pistol he’d been holding.

  As Eddie rode back to base in the rear of the flat-bed Chevy, equal part rage and fear coursing through his body, he knew he should’ve been thinking only about the woman – the black woman – who’d dared to stand up to him… dared to stop him from getting what he desired. Yet try as he might, his thoughts continued to return to the sight of the curate standing in the doorway, so calm and yet at the same time so threatening and dangerous. The man had used his rank and surname, both of which were displayed quite clearly on the sleeves and breast pocket of his uniform, yet the way Brandis had used them gave Eddie the distinct sensation that the man knew more about him that he was telling.