Chosen of the Valkyries (Twilight Of The Gods Book 2)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “True,” Horst said. “But they didn't even make the offer, when they know as well as we do that an SS victory means their destruction. I find that rather odd.”

  He leaned back into his seat, staring out at the French countryside. “We’ll get the latest reports when we return to Berlin,” he added. “And we’ll see what the council has to say about it.”

  Chapter Six

  Near Warsaw, Germany Prime

  2 September 1985

  The town wasn't much, Leutnant Kurt Wieland thought, as they drove into the town square and parked the lorries under a giant statue of a soldier he didn't recognise. A few dozen homes, a handful of shops, set a couple of miles from the autobahn ... it was the kind of place his parents had talked about going to live when they retired and their children had flown the nest. He suspected that he would have found it rather boring, if he’d had to live there, but he was still in his twenties. His parents might have a different attitude.

  He jumped down to the ground and barked orders to the soldiers, who scrambled out of the lorries and hurried to take up position near the Town Hall. The entire town was due to be evacuated and turned into a strongpoint, hopefully one that would slow up the SS for a few hours before they continued advancing towards Berlin. Kurt had no illusions about just how weak the defence line actually was, even though his actual experience of combat was practically non-existent. Between the resignations, the deaths and a number of desertions, the forces facing the SS were badly disorganised. It would take longer than they had, he feared, to get the army into proper shape.

  “The population should have left already,” Oberfeldwebel Helmut Loeb commented. “But some of them won’t have left.”

  Kurt nodded. The young men and military veterans would have already been called up, although it was anyone’s guess just how many of them would bother to report to the training camps. They’d signed up to fight the enemies of the Reich, not their fellow Germans. Quite a few veterans had already been caught trying to slip across the border to the east, or merely hiding in the countryside and hoping not to be found. They found it impossible, they’d claimed when they were caught, to choose a side.

  And I would find it difficult too, if I hadn't been in Berlin, Kurt thought, as the town was rapidly searched and a handful of stragglers pushed into the square. I saw the SS mowing down innocent Germans as if they were Slavs.

  He glanced down at his hands, wondering if he should feel guilty. He’d broken his oaths when he’d opened fire on the SS, triggering off the Battle of Berlin. It wasn't something he should feel guilty for, he told himself, but he knew he’d feel responsible for everyone who died in the coming war. There could be no doubting it would come, either. Everyone knew the SS was moving troops up to the borderline and preparing their offensive. It was only a matter of time before the shit hit the fan.

  “This is an outrage,” a loud female voice declaimed. “We paid for our house!”

  Kurt tried hard to suppress a flicker of tired - and utterly inappropriate - amusement. The speaker was an older woman, easily twenty years older than his mother if she was a day, standing next to a skinny older man who looked thoroughly henpecked. Kurt wouldn't have cared to try to impose his will on that woman, no matter what the law said about German womenfolk obeying their husbands. She was swinging her fists around like a navvy as she argued with the soldiers. Kurt wouldn't have been surprised to hear she’d been a boxer in her youth, even though women were technically forbidden to take part in blood sports.

  Which would have merely driven them underground, he thought, as he strolled over to rescue his men. His first trip outside the wire, during basic training, had been an eye-opener in more ways than one. There were all sorts of forbidden pleasures available in the Reich, if one knew where to look. And now ... who knows what will happen?

  “Gute Frau,” he said, dismissing his men with a nod. “This town is about to become a battleground.”

  The woman glared at him. “We have lived here for thirty years and ...”

  “And it is no longer safe,” Kurt snapped. The nasty part of him was tempted to leave the woman for the SS, but her mouth would probably get her and her husband shot down. If the rumours from the front lines were true, the SS was purging Germany East of anyone whose political loyalties were even slightly suspect. “The SS is coming!”

  “The SS?” The woman repeated. “Why would they come here?”

  Kurt swallowed his first angry reaction. It had been nearly two weeks since the Battle of Berlin. The news had been on the radio ... although, he had to admit, he had a habit of not believing what the radio said either. But surely she must have heard rumours of the change in government, if nothing else. He doubted she was the kind of woman who disdained rumours and gossip as beneath her.

  “A civil war is about to begin,” he said, instead. “You and your husband will be shipped to a refugee camp to the west, where you will be held until the war is over. At that point, you will be allowed to return home.”

  If your home is still there, he added, silently. When they hit this town, they’ll advance with all the force they can muster.

  He kept his face impassive. He’d seen footage of the SS pacification troops in action, burning down entire Russian towns and villages in response to a handful of shots aimed at them from a distance. There was no way to know - even - if they were getting the right village, but the SS didn't care. Spreading terror was more important to them than capturing or killing specific individuals. And yet, their terror tactics hadn't put an end to the South African War. It had only burned brighter than ever.

  The woman’s expression tightened. “And if we choose not to go?”

  “Then you will also be shipped west, but not to a refugee camp,” Kurt said, allowing his voice to harden. Too many people were already in the detention camps, simply because they couldn't be trusted ... he had no desire to add two more. “We do not have time to debate the issue. Pack yourselves a bag and prepare for the journey.”

  He glanced at the woman’s husband, wondering if he could be relied upon to say something to his wife. But it didn't look like it. Kurt couldn't understand how any self-respecting husband could allow themselves to be so dominated in public - he couldn't imagine his father allowing his mother such freedom - but it wasn't his problem. All that mattered was getting them out of the town so it could be turned into a strongpoint.

  The woman turned and marched back towards her home, muttering angrily to herself. Her husband shot Kurt an apologetic look, then followed; Kurt watched them go, shaking his head at their antics. But as long as they were happy, he supposed it was none of his business what they did in private. Turning to the other refugees, he was relieved to discover that none of them looked willing to question him. Most of them were older men and women, the former too old for military service, but there were a handful of younger girls and children amongst them. The town’s teenage boys would already have been conscripted.

  “A few of those girls are quite pretty, Herr Leutnant, ” Loeb muttered warningly, as they wanted towards the edge of the town. “Better keep an eye on the men.”

  “Do so,” Kurt ordered. Loeb was right. Two of the girls were pretty enough to turn heads anywhere, he had to admit, which could cause problems until they were shipped west to a foster family. The remainder might not be so pretty, but soldiers who hadn't had leave for far too long developed new standards of beauty. “We don’t want any incidents.”

  He surveyed the edge of the town, peering into the distance towards Germany East. It was ideal panzer country; rolling fields, very little in the way of natural obstacles and a reasonably well-maintained road heading east. There were a handful of hedges and ditches, but he doubted they would cause any problems to a modern tank. A Panther would crush the hedges beneath its treads and roll over the ditches as if they weren't there. Hell, they could just charge into the town and keep going. It was unlikely any of the buildings were tough enough to stop a tank.

  “We’ll ne
ed to be ready to fall back,” he said. A fluid defence was their only hope, according to Field Marshal Voss. He hadn't bothered to ask Kurt’s opinion, naturally, but Kurt couldn't disagree with his ultimate superior. “Get off a couple of shots, then fall back before they get the range and start pounding us.”

  “I’ll have antitank missiles placed in the nearest houses,” Loeb stated. He paused. “And we’ll mine the fields leading up to the town. It should give them a few nasty moments.”

  “One would hope so,” Kurt agreed.

  He had his doubts. The insurgents who menaced Germany East couldn't stand up to the SS in pitched battles, if they were foolish enough to try. Instead, they fought from the shadows; they sniped at isolated Germans, hurled the occasional mortar shell into German settlements and mined roads the Germans needed to move supplies from place to place. None of their attacks were particularly significant, individually, but collectively they represented a major drain on Germany’s manpower. And God help any German soldier unlucky enough to be captured by the insurgents. Kurt had heard enough horror stories to know that he never wanted to go there.

  And the SS knows precisely how to deal with minefields, he thought, darkly. The only real question is just how far they’re prepared to go to intimidate good Germans.

  It was a bitter thought. He’d been raised to believe that the SS existed to protect Germans - and indeed, many of the SS Stormtroopers he’d met had been good guys. Konrad had certainly been a very good guy, even though - as Gudrun’s boyfriend - Kurt had been obliged to detest him on sight. He certainly hadn't deserved his fate, let alone being abandoned by his own superiors and left to rot. But his superiors? How far were they prepared to go to keep their power? They’d already slaughtered countless Untermenschen, he knew, but were they prepared to slaughter vast numbers of Germans?

  Probably, he thought, as they worked their way through the town. They think that we’re traitors.

  “Just gives us reason to fight,” he muttered.

  Loeb glanced at him. “Herr Leutnant?”

  “It doesn't matter,” Kurt said. He heard the buses entering the town and allowed himself a moment of relief. “Let’s go.”

  He sucked in his breath as he walked back to the square and saw the older woman - the same older woman - arguing with one of the drivers. She had four large bags beside her, the smallest easily five times as large as the knapsack Kurt had been issued when he’d reported for basic training. He found it hard to understand how she’d packed them so quickly, let alone carried them to the square. Her husband didn't look strong enough to have carried them for her ...

  “I need all of these clothes,” the woman was saying. “I need ...”

  “No, you don’t,” Kurt snapped. Gudrun liked clothes, but she was much more practical than this silly cow. “You need only the bare minimum.”

  He allowed his temper to show as the woman rounded on him. “I don’t have time to deal with this any longer,” he snarled, feeling his patience snap completely. “Take one bag and leave the rest here!”

  “I need them,” the woman repeated. “I can't just leave them here!”

  “Yes, you can,” Kurt said. He made a show of unsnapping his holster and placing his hand on his pistol. Her eyes widened with shock. “Take one bag and get into the bus, now. Or I’ll shut you up permanently.”

  The woman glared at him for a long moment, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze. She’d been told, of course, that the entire region was under martial law. Kurt could shoot her down in front of a dozen witnesses and it was unlikely he’d get in any real trouble for it. Those witnesses would argue that she had impeded the evacuation and defence preparations, if nothing else. He braced himself, unsure what she’d do, then breathed a sigh of relief as she picked up one of her bags and marched onto the bus. Either the bag was lighter than it seemed or she was stronger, he noted. She didn't seem to need much effort to carry it.

  “What an idiot,” someone muttered from behind him.

  Kurt ignored the comment and watched as the remaining evacuees were hustled onto the buses. He couldn’t help noticing that some of the girls waved cheerfully at the soldiers, blowing kisses as the bus roared to life. No doubt there had been some flirting going on, even though the soldiers were meant to be helping convert the town into a strongpoint. Who knew? It might even lead to marriage. Soldiers were encouraged to marry young, just to sire the next generation of Germans before they were killed in one of the Reich’s wars.

  Or it might lead to nothing, he thought, as he made his way towards the makeshift command post. The radio antenna had been positioned some distance from the CP, just to ensure the SS didn't take out the CP as well as the radio when they tracked it down. The flirters may never see one another again.

  “Message from HQ,” the radio operator said. “Generalmajor Gath is on his way to inspect the defence lines.”

  Kurt swore, inwardly. They’d barely started ... had the main offensive begun already? He peered through the window, looking eastwards for some signs of trouble, but all seemed safe and tranquil. Maybe Generalmajor Gunter Gath - the CO of the Eastern Defence Line - merely wanted to get a feel for the terrain before the shooting actually began. Or maybe he thought that Kurt - who was handling responsibilities well above his pay grade - should be supervised.

  Or maybe he wants to kiss my ass, he thought, darkly. He’d never met Gath in person. I have a sister on the Reich Council, after all.

  “Acknowledge the message,” he said. Generalmajor Gath was already on his way. There was no point in trying to deter him, not now. “And then request additional landmines and AT weapons from stores.”

  He sucked in his breath as he walked back outside. His men were already hard at work, digging trenches, fortifying a number of houses and emplacing antitank weapons in the most advantageous positions. Kurt had no idea precisely how the SS intended to advance, but the town was right in the middle of the shortest route to Berlin, controlling one road and far too close to the autobahn. They practically had to secure the town to keep their flanks unmolested. But he had no illusions about how long his men could stand off a determined offensive.

  “We should have time to run through two of the drills before nightfall,” Loeb said, as he joined Kurt outside the CP. “Once we know what we’re doing, it should be easier to fall back to the next set of defences.”

  He leaned forward. “Morale is high, Herr Leutnant,” he added. “But there’s plenty of concern about the SS.”

  Kurt nodded. The men had reason to be concerned. Apart from the old hands, like Loeb, they had very little actual experience. Sure, their training had been savage - it wasn't uncommon for a handful of recruits to die in training accidents - but no amount of training could compensate for actual experience. The Berlin Guard had been earmarked for deployment to South Africa, yet the uprising had taken place before they’d been redeployed ...

  ... But the SS had no shortage of experience.

  It was a sobering thought. The men in black, the men on the far side of the border, were combat veterans. They would have been in almost continuous combat against insurgents in Germany East, when they hadn't been deployed to South Africa. They’d know tricks his men had never had a chance to master; they'd know what worked and what didn't work. And they would feel it in their bones. They wouldn't be dependent on textbooks to tell them what to do.

  “They have to be stopped,” he said. “We did beat off an attack on the Reichstag.”

  “True,” Loeb agreed. “But that was pretty much a gamble on their part. Victory would have brought them everything; defeat ... didn't really harm them, one way or the other. Here ... they will be bringing to bear everything they can against us.”

  “I know,” Kurt said. “And we will defeat them.”

  He frowned as he heard the helicopters clattering through the sky, a single transport escorted by a trio of armed attack helicopters. Generalmajor Gath wasn't taking any chances, Kurt saw; the SS wouldn't hesitate
to try to assassinate him if it could. There were too many holes in the command network for Generalmajor Gath to be replaced quickly, if something happened to him. No doubt Gath was right on top of the list of officers to be killed ...

  Right below Gudrun and her allies, Kurt thought. He still found it hard to believe that his sister - his sister - had managed to crack the Reich in two, but it was undeniable. And what happens to her if we lose?

  “I hope you’re right,” Loeb said. He shook his head. “Too many men are about to die either way.”

  “I know,” Kurt said. The lead helicopter settled to the ground, its escorts swinging around the town as they watched for trouble. “But defeat means the end of the world.”

  Chapter Seven

  Berlin, Germany

  3 September 1985

  “I trust you had a pleasant flight?”

  “It was smooth,” Gudrun said. She’d never flown before the uprising, but she’d discovered she enjoyed it. “If there hadn't been so many delays, we would have made it back to Berlin before nightfall.”