by Ward Wagher
“So,” Margaret said laying both hands down on her desk. “Herr Schloss seems to be abiding by the terms of the peace agreement.”
Attlee nodded. “That appears to be the case, Your Majesty. However, the Ministry of Defense are concerned about the large purchase of bombers from the Americans.”
“They are buying one-hundred of the things, is that correct?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Plus, Reich Air Ministry is negotiating with Boeing for a license to build the bombers in Germany. We think they are close to concluding an agreement.”
The Queen scratched some notes with a fountain pen as she furrowed her brow in thought. “So, Clement, what does that do to our force posture? Is this a threat?”
He tapped his fingers on the arms of the chair. “Not precisely, Your Majesty. More of a potential threat. The aircraft has a combat radius that covers most of the home islands. However, they have no escort planes with the range to cover the bombers. If they decided to stage raids during the night hours, we would be hard pressed to defend against them, however.”
“We have several large bombers that might be put into production quickly, have we not?” she asked.
“The term quickly is rather elastic, Ma’am. However, Avro has the tooling ready for the Lancaster and their factory is currently idle. I suspect they would be happy to take part in a project like that.”
“I suspect they would,” the Queen said dryly. “What would the Exchequer have to say about it?”
“We are still at war. If the MOD indicates a need, then funding should be no problem. Once we get a base in the Southwestern Pacific, the aircraft will become very useful there.”
“Very well, then Prime Minister. Please ask someone to explore the feasibility of getting into production. Then we will talk before final approval.”
“Very well, Your Majesty.”
Attlee considered the irony of his position. He occupied the position he had sought for all of his adult life, and having arrived, he found himself at the orders of a newly empowered monarch. Yet, considering the mess the previous government had left, strong leadership was reassuring to him. He idly wondered, however, about the events that would move control of the government from the queen back to Parliament. In the past, such changes had been bloody. He fervently hoped it be would more civil the next time. And the next time would surely come. The people had short memories and the politicians memories were shorter.
“You have listed the Soviet Union on the agenda,” she continued.
“Yes, Ma’am. We are getting rumblings from our diplomatic corps that Stalin may be lining himself up to attack Germany.”
“Why would he do such a thing?” she wondered. “The Russian trade with Germany is mutually profitable. Schloss has been almost emphatic that he wanted no war with Russia.”
“The prevailing view in the Foreign Office is that Stalin crippled the economy with his purges. He is looking for an external threat to divert the attention of the people.”
“Seems like an extraordinary risk to me. What is the view of MI6 on this?”
“Six are taking a contrarian view,” Attlee said. “They do not dispute the problems Stalin faces. However, they feel he is arranging his forces to quell civil unrest.”
“Tell me, Clement, may we trust anything Six are saying?”
The prime minister shook his head in disgust. “There is nothing they currently send me that I would take to the bank without independent confirmation.”
“Is this across the board, or just where the Germans are concerned?”
“I just do not know, Your Majesty. We are still getting no cooperation on the investigation into the Lisbon shooting. Oh, they say all the right words, but nothing ever seems to come of it.”
“What would be the damage if I sacked the lot of them?” Margaret asked.
Attlee raised his palms from the armrest of his chair. “How would we replace them? It would take years to rebuild our intelligence apparatus. Not only are they defying the American investigators, but they are defying you.”
The queen’s eyes flashed as she stood up. “And they will ultimately regret doing that. Several of their people are directly guilty of murder, and God knows how many are guilty of conspiracy. Then we probably have a bunch who are actively forestalling any efforts to bring the matter to conclusion.”
“I believe that is a fair assumption, Your Majesty.”
“Why cannot Director Menzies get his arms around this thing?”
“Frankly, Ma’am?”
“I expect you to be brutally honest, Prime Minister. You should know that by now.”
“Very well. Winston cultivated an intense loyalty from the people in Six. He often bypassed Menzies in initiating and directing operations. It was not unusual for Sir Stuart to know nothing about them. That loyalty to Churchill remains.”
Margaret paced back and forth in the office and then turned to look at Attlee.
“I cannot gainsay Winston’s achievements as prime minister. And the man still has considerable popularity with the people as a whole. But his latter actions may have irretrievably damaged our democracy. The government and the people have become entirely too comfortable with my direct rule, and that frightens me, Clement.”
“We have had this conversation before, Your Majesty,” he said softly.
“My concerns are that if I take direct action against Menzie’s people, I will have pushed even further away from parliamentary oversight. And, you understand why we cannot have the MP’s looking at this.”
“It would tear the country apart.”
“Quite.”
“I do have a thought,” Attlee said.
She looked at him and suddenly grinned. “You are so interesting when you hesitate. What is it that you are not sure you want to tell me?”
“The Americans are of two minds with the investigation. If they uncover clear evidence that the team in Lisbon was directly managed by Winston, it could easily tear the alliance apart. Yet they badly want to offer up a malefactor to the American people. On the other hand, President Truman would find it inexpedient to sweep this under the rug.”
“That is something we all fully understand,” she stated.
“So I suggest we issue a Crown Finding that this was a rogue group in Lisbon – that they were operating on their own….”
“So, you would have me perjure myself?” she asked incredulously.
“No, no. A Crown Finding is declarative. It officially closes the case. Then you would be free to reorganize MI6. Menzies has given me a list of everyone who has obstructed or dragged their feet. We also have a list of those we suspect of outright lying. Those are the people we sack.”
“How long have you been thinking about this?” she asked.
“Several weeks, Ma’am.”
“I must think on this.”
“I brought the formal proposal,” he said. “I can leave it with you to study. It gives the particulars.”
“Very well. How will the Americans react to this?”
“I think they will be relieved.”
“And meanwhile, the individual truly at fault here gets away Scot free,” she said disgustedly.
“Unfortunately, we do not always get everything we desire, Your Majesty,” Attlee said. “However, I don’t believe anyone will trust Winston again for the rest of his life.”
“I certainly hope not.”
§ § §
January 18, 1943; 1:30 PM
OKW Headquarters
Berlin, Germany
I have never been affected by deja vu, Schloss thought as he walked into the OKW conference room but coming back here after the coup attempt does bother me just a bit.
Goering hurried over to greet Schloss as he walked into the room. A number of Wehrmacht brass had been invited to the meeting and among others, Schloss recognized Guderian, Rommel and Von Rundstedt. Admiral Raeder represented the Kriegsmarine. General Erhard Milch from the Luftwaffe and Gehlen from the Abwehr completed the gro
up.
Guderian’s staff had carefully placed placards around the table, so everyone knew where to sit. Schloss’s seat was at the head of the table. He walked over and watched as everyone quickly moved to their positions.
“Sit down, please, meine Herren,” Schloss said as he pulled his chair out and sat down.
While he had the largest and most imposing chair at the table, it was not upholstered and not really very comfortable. Perhaps I should have invited everyone to the government council chamber, he thought, at least those chairs are more comfortable. He waited for everyone to be seated and for the general noise to subside.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet, today,” Schloss begin. “Based upon the reports you all have received; it looks like Stalin is preparing to go to war against the Reich. We are not sure what is driving him to this, or what he hopes to achieve, however, it is imperative we begin some planning and preparations ourselves.”
He looked around the table to make sure he had everyone’s attention, and he did. The prospects were frightening.
“I know,” Schloss continued, “that a year ago when we planned an attack upon Russia, everyone expected them to collapse like a rotten building, when we kicked the door in, as the Führer put it. Let me say now that anyone who harbors that opinion is sadly mistaken. We must assume the Russians are very, very dangerous adversaries. What I want to do this afternoon is to spend some time in free discussion of the problem, and then try to start drawing conclusions. For the purposes of this meeting, we are all equals. I will not be offended with anything you say. If the Reichsmarshall gets his knickers in a wad over something, I promise to sit on him.”
Everyone laughed, including Goering. The humor broke the tension, and everyone seemed to relax.
“Who wants to start the discussion?”
“Are you honestly afraid of the Russians, Herr Reich Chancellor?” Guderian asked.
“Very much so, Herr General.”
“Well, so am I. They have more population, more industry, and more maneuvering room. We cannot afford to meet them on their terms. We will have to be very smart.”
“Well said,” Rommel commented. “We beat the English in North Africa because of logistics. Our armor was inferior to theirs. Some of what I am hearing about the Russian armor makes me nervous.”
“I think the Russians will break and run when they encounter our brave German troops,” Goering boasted. “I really think we do not have that much to worry about.”
Now, how am I going to answer that without embarrassing Hermann, and everyone else? Schloss wondered. He is altogether too good at displaying his own ignorance.
“I think it is often better to overestimate the enemy rather than underestimate him,” Von Rundstedt said, retrieving the situation. Schloss was relieved.
Goering usually listened to his generals, and he was paying attention on this day, in spite of his tendency to shoot off his mouth.
The discussion began with the probabilities of a Russian attack and devolved into tactics. Goering brought the meeting back to weapons development and logistics. Guderian took careful notes and was already planning on how to delegate research on the topics from the meeting. There was a lot of work to do, and he feared there would not be enough time to accomplish it.
As the meeting began to wind down, Schloss asked one final question.
“Given everything we know right now, when do you think the Russians will attack?”
“I think they will wait for the spring rains to taper off and the ground to firm up,” Von Rundstedt said. “That would be sensible on his part.”
“If Stalin were smart, he would attack right now,” Guderian responded. “The ground is frozen, so his armor could move easily. And we are not ready.”
“That is what frightens me,” Schloss said. “I think you need to formulate both a short-term plan and a strategic plan for defeating Russia. If Stalin comes across the border tomorrow, we will need to find a way to stop him.”
“Does Stalin assume that we are not ready right now?” Rommel asked. “We worry that we are projecting our tactical practices into his head. Given the way the Russians think, what would they do?”
“A very good question, Herr General,” Gehlen leaned forward. “They are much smarter than we give them credit for, but they do not think like us.”
“Exactly,” Schloss commented. “Colonel, I trust you are working hard to understand the Russian mind.”
“I do not know that we will ever understand it. If I can find out when they plan to kick off their operation, I will be satisfied.”
Guderian nodded as he scribbled notes. “I am going to recommend Rommel to lead our forces in the East if no one else objects. I am also going to assign Model to him.”
“He puts out fires,” Rommel commented with a smile.”
“Exactly,” Goering laughed. “We can call him Rommel’s Fireman.”
Schloss chuckled. It was gratifying to see the leadership of the OKW working smoothly together. Following the attempted coup a few short months ago, they had pulled things together very well. If Stalin indeed attacked, this cohesiveness would be sorely tested.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
January 30, 1943; 5 PM
Near Aswad, Libya
Vincent Chase walked into the office where Stefan Gorber labored over the books. A small kerosene heater kept some of the desert chill out of the small office while infusing the space with unpleasant fumes.
“Land sakes, it’s cold!” Chase exclaimed. “I keep expecting to see a blizzard out there, rather than this desert.”
“Remember, Vincent, we could be sweating in Venezuela.”
“I don’t think I would even mind a few mosquitoes right now.”
“I could maybe arrange something for you,” Gorber said slyly.
“No thanks, Boss. Believe me, I know which side of my bread is buttered.”
“Good to know.”
“What time are you planning to knock off today, Stefan?” Chase asked.
“We have the lights set up. Let’s go another hour. The men have nothing else to do this evening, anyway. We might as well try to accomplish something on the drilling rig.”
“We are getting a bit of grumbling from the men,” Chase continued. “It wouldn’t do to have them walk off the site.”
Gorber held his hands up. “Where are they going to go? It’s 100 miles back to the coast, and the villagers would as soon stick a knife in them as spit.”
Chase shrugged. “I know what you are saying, but it always helps to pay attention to what the men are saying.”
“I understand, Vincent. You’ve always had a much better feel for the mood of the workers than I. They’ve worked hard. Perhaps we want to think about prepaying part of their bonus just out of goodwill.”
“How much did you have in mind?”
Gorber tapped his fingers on the desk as he thought. “There’s $1000 bonus on job completion, so I would say maybe we could release 200 bucks. Do you think that would settle them down?”
Chase folded his arms and shivered slightly. “I can’t believe how cold it gets here in the desert.”
He continued thinking. “Very well Stefan, I think 200 would work. Do you want me to tell them?”
“Yes, go ahead,” Gorber said. “The workers may respect me, but they love you.”
Chase snorted. “That may be a bit of a stretch, but I take your point. Let me go talk to them.”
After Chase left the small office perched on the back of a flatbed truck, Gorber pulled his jacket closer around him. It really was cold. The drilling had gone well so far. The team worked efficiently and had the site up and running within a couple of days. Gorber felt like they were getting close to finding something. He was never able to explain his intuition to anyone, but it was rarely wrong. The payoff for finding oil in this barren desert was enough to make anyone wealthy. Gorber was already quite wealthy following the sale of his previous company. He would not decline the payoff from this
project; however, his main interest was in developing petroleum resources for the Fatherland.
Gorber was so certain that he was going to discover petroleum of some sort in the deserts of Libya, he had begun laying out plans for a pipeline to the coast. He was trying to determine if it would be better to run a pipeline to Benghazi, or Tripoli. He was an expert in drilling, and not really a pipeline engineer. But he had spent a lot of time in helping to arrange pipelines, so he knew enough to get started. Assuming they had a strike, he had a pipeline team ready to go just as soon as he could get a telegram to them.
There was also the question of which refineries to use. If enough natural gas bled off the well, he thought they could potentially use that to power a refinery and put it on the Libyan coast. Most of the refineries in Germany were in the northern part of the country, and it would be a long way to transport the crude oil. He thought they might consider putting a refinery somewhere in Italy. He was not sure if that would please the German government, though. It would, however, please Ciano.
After he had signed the contract with Standard–IG Farben, Gorber met several times with Ribbentrop, who was now the minister of commerce. Ribbentrop was reluctant to commit to the construction of a refinery without a sure source of oil. He had confessed his embarrassment at having the deal with Iraq fall through and was now reluctant to bet on anything other than a sure thing. This was understandable, although Gorber hoped that the commerce minister would be quick off the mark when he brought in the first well.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of shouting outside. He had a moment of panic, thinking that the villagers in the area had decided to attack. But the noise seemed to consist of hooting and whistling, so he was rapidly reaching the conclusion that they had a strike. At that moment the door burst open and Chase stepped in.
