“But not the battleships,” Raeder put in quickly. “Yes, there was damage, but it was not significant. This is a tribute to your own vision, my Führer. The armor protection we have built into the ships has proved invaluable.”
“Only if they choose to stand and fight, Raeder,” Hitler admonished.
“And I might add,” said Doenitz, “that none of these rockets would have been able to put a scratch on one of my U-boats, would they?”
“A point well made, Doenitz.” Hitler nodded in agreement. “I have read your latest budget request and in light of what has happened here I'm inclined to approve it. As it stands, I do not think we can complete many more battleships in the short run.”
“Hindenburg will be ready in a matter of months,” said Raeder, “and Oldenburg soon after.”
“Yes, yes, Hindenburg and Oldenburg. Will they run from the rockets as well, Raeder? Would they be chased from one end of Norway to the other by a Russian cruiser?”
“Of course not, my Führer. I will make it a top priority to find and sink this Russian ship, and we will show Sergei Kirov who he is dealing with, if you so order it.”
“See that you do!” Hitler rapped the table top with the palm of his hand to emphasize his order. “Yes, I want that ship found, and I want it sunk.”
“We can certainly do so, yet in light of the political situation…”
“Leave the politics to me, Admiral. They sink one of our ships, so we will sink one of theirs.”
“Might we attempt to capture it, my Führer?” Doenitz proposed the obvious alternative. “That way we could have a look at these weapons and that could be very useful.”
“Of course,” said Hitler. “But if it cannot be taken, then it must be sunk. That will settle the matter.”
“I give you my pledge on that,” said Raeder, “but there is something that cannot be overlooked in all these events, and that was the outstanding performance of the Graf Zeppelin—two attacks, two British capital ships hit and seriously damaged.” He wisely decided to say nothing of the abortive third attack. “We must not overlook the lesson here with all this furor over rocket weapons. Admiral Canaris is correct, it does not matter who or how the enemy got these weapons—they clearly have them, and they are not shy about using them. We will get them soon enough,” Raeder shook his finger confidently.
“I will see that the research into this area is tripled,” said Hitler. “Yes, we will get them ourselves, Raeder. I like your spirit!”
Raeder nodded his appreciation, seeing an opening here. “Yet in the meantime, we already have a weapon that can find and hit an enemy ship over 200 kilometers away, twice the range of these rockets—the Graf Zeppelin! Seeing what it was able to do in this engagement has convinced me that we may have relied too heavily on our battleship program. A few more aircraft carriers to match the British may be the key factor now. We have the battleships. Yes, we already know we can match them ship for ship, rockets or no rockets. Now we must look to the development of more aircraft carriers.”
To Raeder’s great relief, Hitler did not disagree. “This is what I had hoped to have in place before the war,” he said. “Yet events and resources did not permit that. The Japanese have six fleet aircraft carriers, do they not? The British have many such ships, as do the Americans. For a navy to sail where it wishes, we must have them as well. Yes, Admiral, Graf Zeppelin has showed us that much, if nothing else. How soon will we have another of these ships ready?”
“Peter Strasser is nearing completion. I believe it may launch with the Hindenburg. But there is nothing else in the shipyards.”
“Nothing else?” Hitler frowned.
“Allow me to correct myself, my Führer. There is nothing else in our shipyards. Nothing more was ever authorized from our Z-Plan. There was simply no time. The Flugdeckkreuzers were not approved. That said, we have other ships that might easily be converted to the role of a carrier. I will submit a full report on this with detailed plans in just a few days. In the meantime, there are ships already afloat that could prove decisive in this area.”
Raeder’s eyes gleamed now. First the butter, now the jam. Now was the time to steer the conversation south, away from the icy north and talk of war with Russia and back to the nice warm and inviting waters of the Mediterranean.
“The French,” he said calmly, his voice steady with newfound resolve. “Yes, the French fleet. There are all the battleships, cruisers and destroyers we might never be able to build in time, and they are just sitting there in the Mediterranean waiting for anyone to come and take them. And one, my Führer, is a nice new fleet aircraft carrier, the Joffre.”
Hitler dimly recalled that the French had been working on carriers as well, though he could not remember the details. He had his mind set on the battleships for so long that he could see nothing else when it came to operations at sea. In fact, while he agreed that Germany needed more aircraft carriers, that was only to provide the necessary protection and support for the battleships in his thinking, only because his enemies were doing the very same thing, and Germany could not be left behind.
The Third Reich had achieved a remarkable and swift victory in Europe. The lightning war had toppled a mortal enemy in a matter of months. Now it was only England standing defiantly in the West, and Soviet Russia in the East. He was close now, so very close to a position of such dominance that no enemy could ever challenge him—except for the Royal Navy. This is why, as much as he wished his troops could simply wade across the English Channel, he knew the Kriegsmarine was an essential element of his power, and would be in the years ahead. Yet how best to use it?
“If this is true,” he said slowly, “then I must assume you have plans to secure this French aircraft carrier before the British. Yes?”
“No, my Führer. I have no such plans.” Raeder was ready to for his final act.
“What? No plans?” Anger flashed in the Führer’s eyes.
“They will not be necessary,” said Raeder quickly, holding up a hand. “We already have the French aircraft carrier. It is sitting in the shipyards at Saint Nazaire, surrounded by elements of our Panzer Army. Yes! We already have a ship it might take us another four years to build ourselves, and that is only the beginning. Now we must set our minds on how to get our hands on the rest. Clearly there is nothing to be gained by contemplating war with Soviet Russia now. But look south and we find enormous military resources just sitting there for the taking. Add key units of the French fleet to those we already have, then throw in the Italian Navy and we will be invincible, my Führer. We can roll the British, and the Royal Navy, right out of the Mediterranean and establish good bases all along the North African coast. We can take Alexandria, Cairo, the Suez canal, and cut the British Empire in two! Then it is merely a matter of shaking hands with Ivan Volkov in the Orenburg Federation, and all the resources we need will come flowing through the Bosporus and into good ports in southern France. This will smash Great Britain once and for all, and we do not even have to consider an invasion of England to do so!”
There, he had said it all, laid out his vision for how Germany could now proceed to win the war. “Do this, my Führer, and the Third Reich will last a thousand years.” He looked at Canaris, who now sat in sullen silence. You wanted to push my nose into a bowl of cold milk, thought Raeder as he saw Canaris slowly reach into his pocket for a cigarette. Eat that!
The question now was: what to do about the French fleet? Raeder had led with his ace, revealing Germany’s de facto control over two fine new French ships, cruiser De Grasse and the carrier Joffre. But Hitler raised a delicate political point.
“You propose we simply seize those ships? It was you who argued the French fleet could be left on its own and that it would behave itself, Raeder. Our armistice states we would not attempt to seize control of Darlan’s Navy.”
“I understand, my Führer, but the situation has changed. Certainly we cannot consider the seizure of the entire French fleet. It would take years just to tr
ain men to crew those ships. But the ships I just mentioned are presently in the occupied zone, not the Vichy sector. In effect, they are not under Admiral Darlan’s control. The ships are incomplete. They will need work, and there is no risk that they might flee. Taking them as a prize of war may be controversial, but necessary—particularly the aircraft carrier.”
There came a knock on the door, and Hitler looked over his shoulder. The SS guard entered, saluting crisply. “Forgive the intrusion, but I was told this was a matter of some urgency. Message for Admiral Canaris.” He handed off a folded paper and made a quick withdrawal.”
“Dinner invitation, Canaris?” Hitler smiled for the first time in the meeting, and Goering laughed appropriately. Canaris, however, seemed to know what he had been handed, and he sighed heavily as he read the note.
“I hardly think we will want a seat at this dinner table,” he said with an edge of warning in his voice. “This is a message from my network in Spain. As you know, we keep a good eye on ship movements at Gibraltar. It appears that a big British buildup is underway. Two more battleships and another aircraft carrier have arrived.”
Raeder nodded his head, raising a finger as he spoke. “I am not surprised to hear this. Was your man good enough to determine what ships these were?”
“Battleships Nelson and Rodney, along with the carrier Glorious.”
Hitler listened closely, his dark eyes moving from one man to another. “Gibraltar,” he said gruffly. “Ever a British thorn in the underbelly of Europe. If I could convince Franco to acquiesce, I would take the place and be done with it.”
Raeder’s ears perked up at this, his eyes alight. “These ships can be assembling for only one reason, my Führer—the French fleet. Now the British have the firepower necessary to force the issue. There were already three battleships in Gibraltar, now they have five.”
Hitler shook his head, a frustrated look on his face. “All our ships laid up after this disastrous operation, and yet the British have sufficient resources to send five battleships to Gibraltar! That is more than we have in the entire Kriegsmarine, correct?”
“Do not concern yourself with numbers,” said Raeder. “Most of those ships were built during the first war, and these latecomers soon after, in the 1920s. They are old and slow, nothing like our new ships. Yet it is not any threat to our operations they now pose. No. The British mean to bring the French fleet under their guns, and if they cannot capture them or force them to demilitarize, they will destroy them.” He folded his arms with an air of finality. “And here we sit worrying about a clause in the armistice!”
Hitler looked at him, his eyes fierce now. “At last you are completely correct, Raeder. The British have no qualms. They do what is in their own interest, and the niceties of politics be damned. So we will do the same. Take those ships in occupied ports. I order it this very minute! Then put any resources you have available and get them ready for operations as soon as possible.”
“As you wish, my Führer, and this is a wise decision in light of these developments. I will admit my caution earlier regarding the French fleet, but events have proven me wrong.”
“Then what about the remainder of their ships? What can we do about this, Raeder?”
“Frankly, there are only a few we might wish to get our hands on—the fast new battleships, perhaps a few cruisers and destroyers.”
“Certainly any submarines we can secure,” said Doenitz.
“What are we now, a pack of scavengers? Saying is one thing,” said Canaris, “doing quite another. How do you propose to get these ships? Yes, the carcass is there for the pickings, but soon the British will be circling like vultures. Toulon is Vichy controlled. The rest of the French ships are in African ports. I’m sure you don’t plan on sailing Bismarck and Tirpitz down there after you patch them up.”
There was just a bit of a smirk in that, and Raeder bristled, but calmed himself. Canaris won’t give up easily, thought Raeder. I must be very careful in the way I handle him.
“No Admiral, we’ll concern ourselves with operations in the north for the moment. As for Toulon, I’m afraid I have no solution for you. Might something be done politically? After all, we remain in a position to exert considerable influence on the Vichy French. They exist only by our leave, do they not?”
“Correct again, Raeder,” Hitler’s eyes were that dark well again, vast, deep, endless darkness there. “The bar fight is well under way, and now Franco and Pétain want to sit quietly and watch. These little men should be of no concern to us, nor will they impede me in any way that matters. If they will not join us they will be dealt with. We could demand the surrender of all French ships at Toulon, or threaten to rescind the occupation and our agreement not to divide France permanently.”
“But my Führer,” Canaris began.
“Not now, Canaris. I know you are quite comfortable with your arrangements in Spain, and nice and cozy with Franco. Set your mind to discovering his intentions! Will he join the Axis, or not? Find out, because once I am through speaking with the French, he will be next. Then this fellow in Russia. First things first. The British are the real problem now. But let us see how things look if we can get these ships you speak of, Raeder. Yes, and things will be quite different once our ships are anchored in Gibraltar instead of the Royal Navy.”
The Führer smiled, a cold, evil smile that made every man there uncomfortable. This was the twilight of the British Empire. It was fading and failing, descending into the dark night that would be ruled by the iron hand of the Third Reich. Gibraltar, Malta, Alexandria, Suez…. It would be just like shooting birds on a wire, thought Hitler. But first things first, the French fleet.
Part IX
Doppelganger
“In a world where the dead have returned to life,
the word ‘trouble' loses much of its meaning.”
― Dennis Hopper
Chapter 25
July 24, 1940
They spent some days in the harbor at Severomorsk, and Fedorov was making good use of every minute of free time he had. He was in the officer’s mess hall, the table covered with the cache of books he had been given by the Russians, and was happily perusing one after another.
Much had changed, but he was still amazed to find that other parts of the history remained remarkably consistent with events he already knew so well. The history of his own homeland was badly fractured. Stalin’s death was a backwater footnote now, the assassination of a minor figure on the fringes of the incipient revolution, well before it had taken real form in 1917. Stalin had been relatively obscure in the early years, gaining prominence in revolutionary circles only after Lenin’s return to Petrograd in April of 1917. In his place it was Sergei Kirov who shined by the borrowed light of Lenin.
The twin defeats at the hands of the Japanese in 1905, and again in 1908, had humiliated Russia. Karpov’s great dream of Russian Pacific power had completely backfired. The Japanese Empire was catalyzed by the events in 1908, and incursions into mainland Asia, on both Chinese and Russian territory, soon followed.
This crisis did much to cause many defections in the military, eroding the power base of the Tsar, but the nation was still swept into the gathering maelstrom of the First World War, and continued to bleed. The revolution happened right on schedule, between February and October of 1917. A few faces were different, but it all played out much the same.
The civil war that followed, however, was suddenly overshadowed by the rising figure of Volkov in the White movement. After an abortive bid for power in Moscow, Volkov withdrew through the Ukraine and into the Caucasus and border states that now made up his Orenburg Federation. There were periods of tentative peace as Red and White struggled to find balance, but the fighting invariably re-ignited, spurred on by much foreign interference.
By 1924 the borders had cemented again. There were seven years of truce, seven more of war until 1938, when the Siberian Free State began to organize into a third major entity. Remnants of Kolchak’s Whi
te movement there were joined by Kozolnikov, yet information on what was happening in the far east was very sketchy. None of the books had covered any recent events there. Siberia had been a wild frontier, a loose confederation of warlord states with a few centers of Kolchak’s White movement in the major cities. No one seemed to want the place, not even the Japanese who exerted nominal control all along the frontier of the Amur River, but with little real strength.
Fedorov spent some time reading on Volkov, watching his slow rise to power, first as a master of intelligence under Denikin, then slowly co-opting that man’s authority. The Bolshevik Red Army had gained the Ukraine, but could not seem to make inroads into Kazakhstan, the Caucasus, and the Caspian region. Instead of trying to defeat one another, both sides entrenched and consolidated their power, and the long civil war dragged on and on, a simmering conflict that spilled across one border or another, then cooled until the next incident stoked the fires.
Volkov eventually secured power and established his seat of government in the growing city of Orenburg. He then changed the White movement to the Grey Legion, breaking ties with remnants of Denikin’s supporters. There had been fighting back and forth along the Volga with Kirov’s Soviet State ever since.
Fedorov was finishing up his research, thinking of the implications on the war that was now unfolding. Surely Volkov knew this history as well, or at least knew the general outcomes of the ‘Great Patriotic War.’ Even against a united Russia ruled by one strong hand, Germany devoured half the nation. Was he doing this to finally destroy the Bolsheviks under Kirov? Did he think he would somehow find a way to manipulate Adolf Hitler in the end? These questions and so many others percolated in his mind, but weariness overcame him, and the tea he was drinking was not helping. He was just about to finish up and get some sleep when Orlov happened along.
Kirov Saga: Darkest Hour: Altered States - Volume II (Kirov Series) Page 20
