by Leo Kessler
OPERATION IRAQ
SS WOTAN SERIES
by Leo Kessler
This Edition Edited and Published by Benchmark Publishing
Bootham, York, England
www.benjaminlindley.co.uk
First Published Worldwide in 2015
Copyright © Charles Whiting 2004, 2015
www.charleswhiting.co.uk
Distributed by Smashwords
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The moral right of the author has been asserted.
The right of Charles Whiting to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission in writing from Benchmark Publishing Ltd, Publishers.
CREATING LEO KESSLER
Leo Kessler is the pseudonym of Charles Whiting, author and historian. Here Charles tells of how Kessler came about:
Leo Kessler was born in a snow storm, aged 45. His parents were two eminent members of the publishing profession, Leo Cooper, and Anthony Cheatham. It was at the Frankfurt Book Fair of 1973, where everyone was wheeling and dealing furiously in between getting drunk and various pursuits, which I’ll leave to your imagination. They came bearing exotic foreign gifts; a bottle of Pils and a Bratwurst. While the snow storm raged they suggested a series of six novels based on an SS Regiment – “The sort of cowboys and Indians thing in black leather”. Oh, the brilliant minds of publishers.
I agreed, though not too loudly. After all the Swastika is still banned on the cover of a book in Germany. Since then, however, whole forests have disappeared in Sweden to make the paper to depict Swastikas on the cover of the Kessler epics.
But where to begin? Naturally I had known quite a few SS men in my time. At the wrong end of a rifle during the war and afterwards some of the survivors, Jochen Peiper, Otto Skorzeny, Gerd Bremer etc. I knew how their kind fought and died – for the wrong cause. But what about the language they used?
A German school teacher with a sense of humour helped out here. He left me with a class of boisterous 14 year old boys and girls. I asked them what kind of “naughty words” they’d heard used by adults but daren’t use themselves. They were only too eager to tell me. Thus the vocabulary of SS Assault Battalion Wotan was created with its “arse with ears” “fart in the wind”, “perverted banana sucker” and the like. How those kids – middle aged men and women now – loved it!
But what kind of men would become staples in this SS Battalion created in a snowy Frankfurt nearly three decades after the war had ended? Naturally there would have to be a swine of a CO in the shape of the hook-nosed “Vulture”. He’d have to meet a sticky end. A dedicated Nazi of aristocratic heritage Kuno von Dodenburg too. And of course two old sweats – “old hares” in German parlance – to be found in every Army. Sgt Schulze, Frau Schulze’s handsome son and Cpl Matz, “the Bavarian barn sh***er”. Both had been motivated by the time honoured practices of all old sweats – “suds, sex and survival”.
Surprisingly enough it all worked. The first Kessler was on the best seller list – well, for a week. The six novels became twelve and in the end the twelve became over 150. Today our heroes are well over a hundred years old. Kessler has been translated into every European language, even into Polish, Czech, Hungarian and the like of the old Eastern bloc. As the “old hares” are wont to say, it is either March or Croak. They prefer to keep marching.
A GLOSSARY OF WOTAN TERMS
Full House – both venereal diseases
Asparagus Tarzan – weakling
Popov, Ivan – Russian soldier
Dicebeaker – Jackboots
Flatman – flat bottle of schnapps
Greenbeak, Wet-tail – raw recruit
Ami – American
Base Stallion – rear area soldier, base wallah
Bone-mender – doctor
Warm Brother – homosexual
Kitchen-bull – army cook
Dead Soldier – empty bottle
Field Mattress – German Army female auxiliary
Tin – decorations
Throat-ache – Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross
Moss – money
Old Man – tinned meat
Cancer Stick – cigarette
Giddi-up Soup – horse meat soup
stubble hopper – infantryman
Reeperbahn Equaliser – brass knuckles
Pavement Tail – Street walker
Parisian – Contraceptive
Flipper – hand
Turnip – head
Author's Note
They called themselves 'The Pact of Steel'. They were Germany, Japan and Italy, and in 1941, they dreamed up an audacious plan to take over the world. They would drive from east and west to destroy the British Empire and then the United States. Finally, Soviet Russia would fall to them, too, and the earth would belong to them, and, in particular, to Adolf Hitler, the ruler of National Socialist Germany.
In the spring of 1941, when a sudden revolt broke out in Iraq, still dominated by the British since they had taken over the mandate in that remote country after WWI, the masters of the 'Pact of Steel' decided that Iraq would be the place where Japan and Germany would join hands and commence this march to world domination.
Thus it was that a handful of Britons fought a crucial battle against the rabidly anti-British Iraqis, who heavily outnumbered them, plus the elite of the German Army, SS Assault Battalion Wotan. The British won and the Empire was saved – for a while. Now there are no more empires – "all that red on the map' – to be saved. Still British soldiers fight and die in that cursed land of Iraq. Then, as now, the battle was one of treachery and counter-treachery, deceit upon deceit, double-dealing, cruelty and red blood. It wasn't a pleasant story. But then, in those dark days when Britain was fighting for its very life, there were no pleasant stories. Today it is no different.
Leo Kessler
PREFACE – The Orient Plot
"Still gestanden!" As one, the polished jackboots of the black-clad giants smashed down on the concrete, and the young officer with the haughty face typical of the Black Guard raised his gleaming sabre in salute.
A little officer, dwarfed by this giant in black, smiled softly. He knew, to these Germans, he, with his yellow face, small stature and trailing samurai sword, didn't look impressive. Indeed, up to the previous year or so, till Imperial Japan had begun marching westwards, conquering all before it, these same Nazi soldiers who were saluting him now would have regarded him as another 'yellow ape', a member of a non-Aryan inferior race. Now all was different, and he and the rest of his fellow Japanese were regarded as 'honorary Aryans', full partners in the 'Pact of Steel' with Germany and Italy.
Still, the little Japanese general's face revealed nothing of his true feelings as he inspected the guard of honour. Grasping his curved sword, cap set squarely on his shaven bullet-head, he gazed up at the impassive faces of the Hitler Bodyguard Regiment as if he might fault their turnout at any moment.
The undersized Japanese didn't. Baron Oshima, the new ambassador to Berlin, had been a regular soldier for most of his life. All the same, he was now a diplomat who was schooled in the strange ways of the Europeans, especially the Germans, whose language he spoke well. He wanted to impress the Germans, gain their support, even the friendship of their leader, Adolf Hitler. For their support was vital to the success of the Mikado's plans for world power. So, he failed to criticise. Instead he waited for the young guard commander to fi
nish the inspection and raise his sword in salute, so that he could say in his best German, "Gut gemacht, Sturmbannführer. Frei bier für Ihre Soldaten... Danke."
The free beer did it. The officer actually flushed and, above them, waiting on the steps of his mountain retreat, Adolf Hitler smiled. He was proud of his Black Guards, the elite of the elite.
Smiling still, the Nazi leader seized the little Japanese's white-gloved hand in both of his and pressed it warmly. "Mein lieber Herr Baron," Hitler gushed. "Willkommen in meinem Hause."
A little embarrassed at such un-Japanese enthusiasm, Oshima managed to extricate his hand from Hitler's grasp and saluted, as a soldier should. "I am honoured, mein Führer," he said in his best German as the first stray flecks of the new snowfall started to drift down from the Watzmann mountain, the second highest in Germany.
Again Hitler smiled winningly. "But my dear Baron, let us go inside, away from this snow. I must look after my guests, especially one who means so much to me and my people."
Oshima gave a sharp intake of breath through his nose, the traditional Japanese way of showing respect, and allowed himself to be led into the Bavarian mountain home of the German leader by Hitler himself.
Already Hitler's military staff was lined up waiting to be presented to Oshima and hear, as Hitler now announced, "Our dear friend's proposal for German-Japanese co-operation to bring about the downfall of the British Empire."
But if that sudden announcement wasn't startling enough, Oshima's exposé of the Japanese plan, five minutes later in the villa's map room, was even more so. With the snowflakes beating the picture window with ever increasing fury, as if some God on high was attempting to destroy the war-torn world below, Oshima detailed the Japanese proposal, drawn up by the Japanese military dictator Tojo and no less a person than the Emperor himself.
Dramatically for him, Oshima slapped the great map of the world with his hard yellow hand and, with his fingers outstretched, as if he was grabbing for the whole globe, he barked, "Ours!"
Hitler frowned and looked at the Japanese interpreter who was standing by as if he doubted he had heard the word correctly. Next to him, his chief of staff, wooden-faced Field Marshal Keitel, looked down at the little Japanese and said gruffly, "Herr Baron, what do you mean – ours?"
Blondi, Hitler's Alsatian dog, put her tail between her legs and crept into a corner, as if she sensed that trouble lay ahead.
Oshima's face remained impassive, his dark eyes revealing nothing, as if he had not noticed the reaction to his bold statement.
"Mein Führer, gentlemen," he said carefully now, realizing he had to convince these arrogant Germans he had to be taken seriously. "Working together as we are now, Germany, Italy, of course, and Japan are now in a position to rule the world. In a matter of months, as we estimate in Tokyo, we can defeat all our enemies, both in the West and in the East." He cast Hitler a quick glance, for Baron Oshima already knew from his spies in Berlin that Germany would attack Russia in less than six weeks, once the Wehrmacht had wound up its campaign in the Balkans.
Hitler's puzzled frown of a few moments before had now changed to a look of delight. It was clear to Oshima that he was telling Hitler something that he liked, though his assembled staff officers still showed their disdain for what they thought of as an inferior little yellow man who had no understanding of strategic concepts.
"With our German – and Italian – comrades advancing from the west out of Middle Europe, and the glorious Japanese Imperial Army – " again he made that strange intake of breath which indicated respect – "from the east, together we can throw a band of steel from India, here – " he slapped the map once more – "to the Balkans, here, which are already in German hands. Thus Russia will be cut off. As for the British in North Africa, they will be cut off from their supplies and fresh manpower in India. Their oil too. In short, the British will wither away like the grape on a vine deprived of water. As for the only other power of some importance, the United States of America – " for once Baron Oshima's face showed some emotion: it was one of contempt at the mention of the hated USA – "we Japanese will take care of that decadent nation very shortly." Oshima turned his gaze on Hitler once more and concluded with, "Plan Orient, as we Japanese call it, mein Führer, will undoubtedly ensure that the world will be ours before this year of 1941 is over." He dropped his right hand to his samurai sword, as if he were ready to engage anyone who might be tempted to disagree with him at that moment.
But no one was, not even the wooden-faced chief of staff Keitel. Perhaps he was silenced by the sheer bravura of the little Japanese ambassador. For a few moments a heavy brooding silence fell over the room, broken only by the beating of snowflakes against the window. All of them, participants in a conference that might change the future of the whole world, seemed wrapped up in a cocoon of their own thoughts. For even Hitler in his wildest moments had never proposed anything as radical and far-reaching as this little Japanese with his 'Plan Orient'.
Finally Keitel broke the heavy silence with, "But the distance between the leading elements of the Japanese Army, Herr Baron, and our own troops in the Balkans must be at least some eight thousand kilometres. A tremendous distance. Even Alexander the Great, if I remember my ancient history correctly, was finally ruined by trying to cover the same distance, and he took years to do so."
Oshima was ready for the question. "Your Alexander the Great did not have aeroplanes, did he?" he said simply.
Keitel flushed. "Wars are not won by aeroplanes," he rasped. "Not even in 1941."
Hastily Hitler intervened. "Gentlemen, let us not get down to particulars yet. Particulars always destroy brilliant, grandiose ideas. I know it well." He looked hard at the tall, arrogant field marshal, as if accusing him of being one of those who had always poured cold water over his own 'brilliant, grandiose ideas'.
"My dear Baron," he continued, "I welcome such a sweeping plan. I can see how a major concerted effort, as you have suggested, would undoubtedly break the power of our enemies swiftly. But there are several imponderables which spring to mind immediately." He let his words sink in before adding, "The tremendous distance between our two forces, which Field Marshal Keitel has just mentioned, is naturally one of them. Another is how we can lend support to what forces we might send to bridge these distances. Our numbers would be limited and our supply lines would be stretched to the utmost. How long could we keep up the pressure against the might of the British Empire, our major enemy in the area you have mentioned, under such circumstances?"
The German staff nodded their approval and looked expectantly at the little yellow man at the centre of the discussions, as if they expected him to fall flat on his face, unable to come up with an answer.
Oshima surprised them. He had his answer at the ready, for he had been long prepared to have this overwhelming question put to him; indeed, he had been expecting it ever since his final interview with the Emperor, who, in his divine and infinite wisdom, had warned him that the 'round-eyed, arrogant foreign devils' would try to make a fool of him.
"Gentlemen," he answered quite calmly, "we in Japan have long had the experience of other nations doing our work, both politically and militarily, for us, ever since we first engaged ourselves in China back in the twenties. Everywhere in the Far East there are nations and peoples who want to free themselves from the yoke of the foreign imperialists – the French, the Dutch, the English, cost what it may. In this last decade or so, we have supported them, and in doing so, we have earned their respect and they have become the greatest supporters of Japan's imperial destiny." Again he gave that same intake of breath, implying respect, and this time even bowed slightly. "Soon, gentlemen, Japan's Co-Prosperity Sphere will extend throughout Asia, from Korea to Singapore."
Hitler was impressed, though at the same time a little uneasy. He wasn't prepared to destroy the European empires in the Far East to have them replaced by that of Japan's Co-Prosperity Sphere. But he kept his thoughts to himself and listened attentively
to what the Baron had to say further on the subject.
"Now, although the situation in the Middle East is somewhat different from that in our own area," Oshima continued, "there are certain similarities. Again we are dealing with the two main colonial powers, Britain and France, and their territories, taken away by force from the natives back in the last century and the early twentieth century."
Hitler cleared his throat urgently. It indicated that he didn't want a lecture on the history of the Middle East. He wanted the facts relevant to the present-day situation.
Oshima got the point. He said, "To shorten the matter, there are today throughout the Middle East, and especially in the area we are considering for joint military operations leading to a link-up of our forces, several subject nations which would be only too eager to throw in their lot with the forces of the Pact of Steel if we could assure them they'd have national freedom." He grinned suddenly and it wasn't a pleasant sight. "Which, of course, we won't give them in the end. Persia, Syria, Iraq etc. etc. Get those countries on our side and we won't have to worry unduly about supplies and armed men. They will do, if I may use the phrase, our dirty work for us."
Hitler liked that. He opened his mouth to congratulate the little yellow man on his deviousness, which was worthy of the German. But before he could do so, Baron Oshima cried, throwing up both his arms in the traditional Japanese manner, "If nothing else, gentlemen, we will bring about the destruction of the cruel, proud British Empire! Banzai, Banzai, Banzai!"
Outside, the snowflakes pelted the window with ever-increasing fury, as if Nature itself were applauding the elemental fervour of that primeval cry. Hitler shuddered.
