Initiative (The Red Gambit Series Book 6)

by Colin Gee

  1352 hrs, Friday, 16th August 1946, Chateau de Versailles, France.

  “So, we are agreed, gentlemen.”

  Churchill posed it as a statement deliberately, knowing that some present would find the terms of their position wholly unacceptable, but were presented with no choice but to accede to the majority position.

  “Firstly, as stated by President Truman, we reserve the right to reply in kind to the despicable use of chemical weapons against Allied forces, but will not yet do so, pending the results of the independent investigations into the matter.”

  He nodded to Truman and continued.

  “We will do this as a sign of good faith in the peace negotiations as a whole, and as an expression of our wish to believe that the Soviet Government would not have knowingly undertaken this attack, and in the hope that the veracity of the explanation offered is confirmed independently.”

  That was the easy part over with.

  “We now confirm to the negotiators that our unequivocal position is that Europe will see a full return to the political boundaries in force on 1st January 1938, but that, and I add, only if negotiations seem to be floundering, they have some room to manoeuvre in order to bring about a speedy ceasefire on favourable terms for the entire Allied cause, in as much as we would be prepared to negotiate a temporary alteration to some of those political boundaries, and or lines of military demarcation, in order to bring about an end to hostilities.”

  Both Speer and Raczkiewicz sneered, knowing the extent that the Allies were prepared to negotiate back to, albeit in the first instance.

  Churchill had argued that even a partial return of Polish territory would, in the first instance, be a bonus for the Polish nation, and that further negotiations would undoubtedly see the entire country returned to Polish rule, a point not accepted by Raczkiewicz, and the matter of the restoration of Prussia similarly caused problems for Speer.

  None the less, that was the Allied negotiating position, and it was communicated to the team in Sweden.

  When the negotiators returned to the table, the Allied response was put by US Secretary of State James Byrnes.

  The qualified acceptance of the Soviet explanation regarding the Hofbieber affair was greeted with a gracious nod; less so the reservation of the right to similar retaliation should the stated facts be found to be less than the truth.

  Byrnes laid out the 1938 return proposal as the Allies only acceptable position, given the aggressive war that the USSR had inflicted upon a Europe still suffering from the previous conflict.

  Molotov listened and immediately rejected the Allies’ starting position.

  The negotiations started in earnest.

  1920 hrs, 16th August 1946, Château de Versailles, France.

  “Mister President, sir.”

  Truman wiped his mouth with the delicate silk serviette, removing any hint of the delicious stroganoff sauce.

  “Yes, Colonel?”

  “Mister President, there is a call for you, from the States.”

  Truman eyed the delicious beef stroganoff.

  “Who is it? Can’t it wait?”

  “Sir, its Governor Dewey. I tried to put him off but he’s very insistent. Says it’s an emergency and that you should come to the phone straightaway.”

  Truman’s jaw set in pugnacious fashion, the Missourian immediately roused by the comment.

  Churchill raised an enquiring eyebrow, to which Truman could only offer a small shrug.

  “Lead the way, Colonel.”

  “Truman.”

  He settled himself in the superbly comfortable grand chair, its red upholstery almost embracing him in its soft cushioning.

  “Mister President, this is Governor Dewey here.”

  “Yes, so I was told. So, where’s the fire, Thomas?”

  “In your office, Mister President.”

  “Say that again.”

  “Mister President, I represent a large number of very important and powerful politicians, and I’m here to tell you that we are preparing your impeachment for failing to protect our soldiers to the best of your ability, for failing to fully prosecute the war, and for failing to properly discharge the duties of your office.”

  “Impeachment… you’re way outta line, Governor, way outta line.”

  “We think not, and we think it’s you that’s out of line here, and we’re going to do something about it.”

  “For a start, Governor, there is no offence here, not in what you suggest… no treason, no bribery, no crime or misdemeanour of any type, so your move is dead in the wat…”

  “You don’t define the offence, Mister President. That’s defined by Congress, and the part of Congress I represent is minded to impeach you on the counts I have stated.”

  Truman remained silent, his brain working overtime on his next move.

  One suggested itself, and he quickly debated the matter, arriving at an unpalatable conclusion.

  “Governor Dewey, I want you to listen to me.”

  “Won’t do any good, Mister President. We’re decided. We implement the process as soon as we…”

  “Listen to me good now, Governor Dewey. There will be no impeachment, and I’ll tell you why.”

  Truman sucked in a lung full of air and made his play.

  “What I tell you now is absolutely top secret and cannot be divulged to anyone. Am I absolutely clear on that point?”

  Dewey’s silence was deafening, but Truman waited.

  “You are clear, Sir.”

  “I want your word on it, Thomas.”

  “Sir…”

  “Your word or you can do your worst.”

  Silence.

  “I will not divulge any secret matter you inform me of in this conversation, Mister President. You have my word on it.”

  “Thank you, Thomas. Now, this is for your ears only.

  He listened as Dewey asked to have the room to himself and waited until Dewey confirmed he was on his own.

  Truman coughed lightly.

  “The Allies are presently preparing retaliatory strikes with weapons in kind, which will be available should the circumstances be favourable, and the need arise.”

  “We’ve heard rumours, but that’s not good enough, Mist…”

  “Wait. Our preparations to use the bombs in Europe are ongoing, with training by ourselves and the British Royal Air Force being stepped up.”

  “Go on, Sir.”

  Truman took the plunge.

  “At this moment, Secretary of State Byrnes is in a secret location, with the representatives of all major Allied nations, and with the Foreign Minister of the Soviet Union, engaged in talks to bring about an end to this war.”

  “I see.”

  “Moreover, and I must stress the importance that this knowledge is not shared, Minister Molotov has presented a full and total apology regarding the chemical weapon attack in Germany, one to which we have responded in a conciliatory manner, in order to progress the peace talks.”

  “But…”

  “Thomas… they came to us… they… came… to… us… I have a chance here to turn this whole thing off.”

  The silence was all-encompassing, and Truman gave the man time to understand the gravity of what he had just said.

  “I understand, Mister President.”

  “You want the boys home. I want the boys home. We both want to win this thing, but maybe we can’t. Maybe this is the best way to win, to establish our Alliance after a negotiated peace… a peace settlement that we can drive, given the fact that they came to us because we’ve hurt them… hurt them bad…”

  “How did we hurt them, Mister President?”

  “We’re not completely sure, but the suspicion is supply, and specifically fuel, Thomas.”

  Governor Dewey was hooked.

  “So you believe we can stop the war right now and…”

  “No, not right now. We think that the military pressure should be maintained, lest they forget what brought them to the table in the f
irst place.”

  “I can see that, Sir. I understand that. But, in the end, we can end this quickly, and restore a great deal of Europe to the way it was?”

  “Sure. We intend to negotiate a ceasefire and defined lines, staged withdrawals and adjustments to controlled territories, and we will be able to drive that because…”

  “…because they came to us.”

  “Indeed, Thomas.”

  “Sir, you know I have a problem with this.”

  “Yep. You can’t tell anyone what I just told you.”

  “And I have to quieten down a baying pack of governors, senators, and congressmen, just by saying ‘trust me’.”

  “They made you leader, Thomas, so lead them. I need to concentrate on this. If you still want to impeach me when it’s done, feel free. I’ll stand my own corner. But for now…”

  “For now, I will make it go away, but I caution that the process cannot be infinite, Mister President.”

  “I don’t know how long it will be, but you’ll be kept informed by my office. I’ll leave instructions on the matter. Contact them at any time, Thomas.”

  “Mister President, good evening, and thank you for your candour and confidence.”

  “Thank you for your call, Thomas. Good evening.”

  The phones went silent.

  Senators Mead and Wagner had heard Dewey’s end of the conversation, and were keen to hear the other side as soon as possible.

  “No, I gave the President my word.”

  “So, what’s occurring, Tom?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  Both senators spoke the word incredulously.

  “Nothing. We sit on our hands for a while. Things are simply not as they seemed.”

  “Such as, Tom?”

  “I cannot tell you, Bob. I will not tell you, Bob. Everyone is just going to have to trust me on this one, and if they don’t, we could foul up a huge chance to bring the boys home.”

  Wagner nodded, but Mead nodded and laughed.

  “You said they came to us, Tom. I can work it out from there.”

  Dewey went for his poker-face, knowing the snippet he had repeated back to Truman would be enough for Mead.

  “They’re negotiating then.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  The cost of freedom is always high, but Americans have always paid it. And one path we shall never choose, and that is the path of surrender, or submission.

  John F. Kennedy

  Chapter 171 - THE NEGOTIATIONS

  1113 hrs, Saturday 17th August 1946, Buckingham Palace, London, UK.

  The assembled dignitaries, awardees, and witnesses were hushed as the master of ceremonies announced the very first of those to be honoured.

  As was tradition, the award of the Victoria Cross took precedence over all other awards.

  “Lieutenant Colonel John Ramsey.”

  At the mention of his name, Ramsey walked forward.

  His face shone with pride, more so at his steady gait, than the moment he was about to experience.

  He stopped before the King and saluted, which salute was returned impeccably by the British monarch.

  “We meet again, Colonel Ramsey.”

  “We do indeed, Your Majesty.”

  “My sympathies at the personal sacrifice you have made for your country. I was so upset to learn of your injuries. How are you getting along, Colonel?”

  “Extremely well, thank you, Sir. The medical staff have all been marvellous.”

  King George VI leant forward.

  “I am told your bloody-mindedness has been a fearful factor in your superb recovery, Colonel.”

  Ramsey smiled.

  “One uses the tools at one’s disposal, Sir.”

  “Indeed one does, Colonel Ramsey. Now, we shall proceed.”

  The King turned and removed the Victoria Cross from the cushion, and attached it deftly to Ramsey’s uniform.

  “With the thanks of our people, and my own personal admiration, Colonel. You are a true bloody hero. But now, please, take a bloody back seat, man. Give other men a chance to earn some kudos, what?”

  Ramsey nodded respectfully.

  “I rather fancy that circumstances will dictate that, Sir.”

  The King leant forward again as the two men shook hands.

  “You know, Ramsey, I have heard the circumstances behind this award. Extraordinary, absolutely extraordinary. I have asked my private secretary to bring you to my study when the ceremony is over, if you find that convenient. I simply must hear the story about you and the Russian first hand.”

  Ramsey smiled at the memory of a man who wore a different uniform.

  “It would be my pleasure, Sir.”

  They exchanged smart salutes and Ramsey returned to the throng, his mind full of pictures of Barnstorf, of McEwan, Green, and Robertson… and of Yarishlov.

  The next VC was awarded to Sergeant Carl Jones of the 4th Royal Welch Fusiliers, nine-five to his boys, his selfless act during the last throes of the battle of Hamburg undoubtedly worthy of the highest gallantry award and the thanks of a grateful King and nation.

  1258 hrs, Saturday 17th August 1946, Hauptstrasse, Haserich, Germany.

  “I have no idea, Frau Hallmann, none at all.”

  Not totally true, as the markings indicated a military origin, but Postman Pfluggman had a date with a cold beer in nearby Blankenrath.

  “What are these marking here, Hans?

  “Military. Maybe some relative’s things, Frau Hallmann?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. I’ve no relatives fighting now. Willi was the last one, and he was lost in Austria… so long ago now.”

  “Perhaps it is his then, Frau Hallman? They find things all the time, you know.”

  “You think it might be? They never found him. Maybe it is his?”

  “One way to find out, Frau Hallmann. Good day.”

  The mother of Willi Hallmann, now dead, but once an SS-Hauptsturmfuhrer in the Das Reich division, hurried excitedly to the kitchen table, and quickly found a knife to cut open the package.

  She ignored the briefcase, and immediately sat down to read the accompanying official document.

  Dear Frau Hallmann,

  The enclosed briefcase was recovered from the site of a fatal air crash in Austria, a matter which would appear to have been unrelated to you, or any member in your family.

  However, a rough handwritten note was discovered in a broken glass phial within it, a note that gave your address.

  As we are unable to ascertain to whom the briefcase belonged, and no third party has claimed it, we felt it only proper to forward it to you, without certain contents that were declared the property of the unknown deceased’s employers.

  We have taken the liberty of copying the message as, in its present form, it is suffering from the effects of handling and its exposure to traumatic forces.

  The original is in the marked envelope with the case itself.

  The message reads as follows.

  Frau Hallmann,

  Hauptstrasse,

  Haserich,

  Mosel,

  Germany.

  AKNEPSU-65AB141/63RK29-29U532

  Für-EAK

  Schildkröte.

  The Government has satisfied itself that the message is not of a military nature, but would be grateful if, should you discover its meaning, that you communicate with the office indicated below at the earliest possible moment.

  With regards,

  The dispatching postal official’s name was illegible, but was, in any case, unimportant.

  The nondescript US Army mail address meant little to her.

  What had caught her eye was a set of three letters.

  EAK.

  Annika Hallmann understood them perfectly, for she had seen them many times before, when the boy had come to play in the fields around her home, and later, when the man had visited her with his wife and two little girls.

  The message was ‘�
� Für-EAK.’

  EAK…

  Ernst-August Knocke, her godson.

  She went to the telephone and sought a connection to a grand house on the outskirts of nearby Riedenhausen.

  The housekeeper answered and promised to get the General straight away.

  “Kumm.”

  “Good afternoon, Herr General. Frau Hallmann here.”

  “Ah, Frau Hallmann. Good afternoon to you too. How may I be of assistance?”

  “I need to see you straight away, Herr General. Something you will wish to see has come into my possession. Can I cycle over now?”

  Kumm paused for a moment, his Saturday afternoon card game in full swing, but his knowledge of Annika Hallmann was enough to know that she would not trouble him if it were not important.

  “Yes, of course. Come over immediately. I have friends here, but they are ones who will understand the interruption, and the concept of discretion, should the need arise. I can have the car sent for you?”

  “Thank you, but no thank you, Herr General. I will be with you shortly.”

  “Shortly, Frau Hallmann.”

  He replaced the receiver and strode back into the orangery, where his friends eyed him quizzically.

  “Frau Hallmann is coming over. Something that simply couldn’t wait.”

  They all knew Frau Hallmann from her work with their organisation, so the men relaxed as one.

  “She’ll be a while, so I suggest we play another hand.”

  The man with the eye patch swept the cards up and shuffled.

  “Zu befehl, Brigadeführer.”

  SS-Brigadeführer Otto Kumm gathered up the twelve cards that the dealer, SS- Obersturmführer Krause, had dispensed, looked at them with something approaching disgust, and waited for his partner to lead off.

  They had two further hands before the game of Doppelkopf was brought to an end by Frau Hallmann’s arrival.

  The briefcase did the rounds as the woman who had the HIAG’s records hidden in her attached barn, explained the note and the significance of ‘EAK’.