The Kremlin

  Moscow, USSR

  “Who can tell me what is happening in Silesia and Poland?” Stalin demanded.

  Kruglov and Malenkov said nothing. Vyacheslav Molotov was present today. He had fallen from favor in early 1942, but Stalin had decided to rehabilitate him. Kruglov was glad the man was back, but the aggressive confidence Molotov had displayed before was now much more subdued.

  “It appears our glorious army has failed us,” Molotov commented.

  “And what should we do about it?” Comrade Molotov.

  “We should punish any of the leaders we can retrieve from the field. Since we must build a new army, we must do better at teaching them socialist ideals. Their failure is due to their recidivism, and they wish to return to the old ways. The failed ways.”

  “That is a good speech, Vyacheslav,” Stalin commented. “But what would you do to accomplish this?”

  Molotov was speechless. He wasn’t expecting an attack immediately after Stalin invited him back into the inner circle. Stalin continued puffing on his pipe and studied everyone in the room. Molotov concluded he wasn’t necessarily the primary target.

  “What is Schloss trying to accomplish?” Stalin now asked.

  “He is convinced the only way to stop you is to destroy you,” Kruglov said. “Perhaps we ought to investigate whether the Nazis would accept a negotiated settlement.”

  “Perhaps you should investigate whether the party and the Narod would accept a negotiated settlement,” Stalin fired back. “It may come down to whether some nameless kulak puts a bullet in your head or if I do.”

  “I am giving you the best information I have, Comrade General Secretary.”

  “And that concerns me, Sergei. You have shown great promise, but all I seem to hear from you now is excuses. And you, Georgy, are no help, either. Where is my propeller-less fighter you promised?”

  “The new fighter is on track to meet the dates we set for operations. Nothing has changed there, Comrade General Secretary.”

  “Bah. I am surrounded by incompetents. Get out of here, all of you. You will all return tomorrow with a plan for turning this war around. Come prepared to live or die.”

  Malenkov was shaking as they walked out of the meeting room. Kruglov was shaken but thought that he had retained his wits, and Molotov seemed unfazed.

  “What are we going to do, Sergei?” Malenkov stammered. “He’s getting ready to feed us to the fire.”

  “He is not going to have us liquidated,” Kruglov replied. “Have you noticed how he has isolated himself from the Politburo? They are concerned about that. Without us, he has no line of communication with them. We do the communicating now.”

  “That’s a thin thread, Sergei.”

  “It is what it is,” Molotov grumbled. “If we don’t produce a plan, he will have us purged, regardless of what it costs him. So, let’s arrange to meet and hammer something together. Who knows? It may even work.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  July 31, 1944; 8 AM

  Reich Chancellor’s Office

  Nazi Party Headquarters

  Frankfurt, Germany

  For the first time in years, Heinrich Schloss did not feel like his morning coffee was burning a hole deeper into the pit in his stomach. He often thought he had a bleeding ulcer the way his stomach burned. But his doctor assured him that if he had an ulcer, it would feel like someone was carving up his stomach with a knife.

  Over the weekend, Rommel sent word that Rokossovky had surrendered what was left of the encircled Russian forces. There was nothing left in Silesia and the Polish territory to stop Germany. Guderian had instructed Walter Model to advance ten divisions across the Polish plains towards Ukraine. Smirnoff and Khrushchev were organizing themselves and planning to march into Ukraine with Luftwaffe support.

  With Stalin no longer holding a knife at his throat, at least for the moment, Schloss was almost relaxed. He was under no illusions about the work that lay ahead for the German government. He already had received communications from some of the Gauleiters about reestablishing Danzig and East Prussia. Considering the way Stalin, Churchill, and Roosevelt had redrawn the map of Europe at Potsdam in his other universe, Schloss thought he could get away with redrawing the borders to Germany’s best advantage.

  Schloss had to remind himself that Stalin was still alive. He hoped that Smirnoff and Khrushchev were able to establish a buffer state in Ukraine. But there was the question of Belorussia and Prussia. And Peter had received a delegation of Poles who wanted to establish a nation on their ancient soil. So, Schloss determined to enjoy the relative quiet while he could.

  Kirche interrupted Schloss’s reverie with a plate of pastries and a fresh carafe of coffee. Following him were Peter Schreiber and Karl Rainer. Their Monday morning meetings were now almost inviolable. While the German government functioned much as it had for the previous hundred years, the ruling triumvirate was unique. Schloss pondered the accident of fate that placed him, Peter, and Karl into their roles. Then there was the nagging memory of Frau Marsden telling him it was no accident.

  “It looks like Rommel is wrapping things up in Silesia,” Peter commented. “I have to give him credit. He is brilliant at spotting these opportunities.”

  Rainer nodded. “I like the fact that he doesn’t sit on his accomplishments. We have the Russians badly off-balance.”

  “There isn’t much in the way of Russian forces west of the Vistula, or even the Bug River for that matter.”

  “Are we stopping at the Bug?” Rainer asked.

  “We are. East of that, we are leaving to Smirnoff and Khrushchev.”

  Peter nodded. “We will have our hands full securing everything to the west of that. A lot of the land has had armies march across it three times in as many years. And we’re getting ready to have our own politicians fight over the carcass.”

  Schloss frowned. “I don’t know which is worse. Khrushchev is licking his chops over setting himself up in Kiev. And our carrion want to draw lots over the Polish territories.”

  “What have you been thinking about concerning that?” Rainer asked.

  “I think the three of us are going to have to decide where to draw the map. If we form a committee, it’ll never get done, or we’ll have wars for the next century of the territories.”

  “Does it make you uncomfortable, Hennie, to delegate something like that to the three of us?” Peter asked.

  “Yes, it does. It amounts to playing God with the world. I know I don’t have the right to do it, and nobody does. But let’s look at our primary goal: we want to establish a German nation that nobody will be able to touch for the next hundred years.”

  “Not the thousand-year Reich?” Rainer asked softly.

  “We’ve talked about this, Karl. I hope that we’re not megalomaniacs. But, putting the map together is a key piece of what I want to achieve. If we can get this done, then I want to hold elections in the next year or so and step away from this job.”

  “I don’t think the people will allow you to step away,” Peter said. “You are very popular, and it might be too early for you to step down.”

  “I am concerned about waiting too long to step down,” Schloss replied. “What is too early?”

  “We have a lot of territories that Hitler conquered,” Peter stated. “A lot of that is not in a stable arrangement. We are focused on the East. But we have the military occupation zones in the West — northern France and the low countries. And I think we are going to have problems with the government in Vichy eventually.”

  “We have problems with the government in Vichy, now,” Rainer commented. “They are still mistreating Jews, and their secret police are a law unto themselves.”

  “What we need to do is create a schedule for dealing with the emergencies,” Schloss said. “The merely urgent items will have to wait.”

  “Right,” Peter added. “And the world isn’t standing still either. Britain is in turmoil. My office just found out that Attlee scheduled elections without the queen’s consent.”

  “So they are in the middle of a constitutional crisis,” Schloss said. “I wonder how that will play out.”

  “My people say the bookies in London are doing a thriving business on betting which way it will go,” Rainer claimed. “The people in the Foreign Office were surprised that Margaret did not immediately put a stop to it.”

  Peter had emptied his coffee cup and refilled it from the carafe. He looked at the plate of pastries, visibly debating whether to snag a second Danish.

  “Help yourself, Peter,” Schloss laughed. “That’s why Kirche brings in the food. Besides, you don’t seem to have a weight problem.”

  “But Frau Marsden yells at me when I don’t clean up my plate at lunchtime because I had too many pastries.”

  “There is little I can do about that, Peter. Back to the topic at hand. I wonder if the queen is not resisting Attlee because he has the house behind him. The English place great stock in Parliamentary supremacy.”

  “A dictatorial monarch is not the norm there, for sure,” Peter replied.

  “My wife has been following this,” Rainer commented. “She said that if the queen tried to override Attlee at this point, she would risk being deposed. It has happened before. The English like to put their kings up on a pedestal so they can honor the tradition, but they get uncomfortable when the monarch tries to govern.”

  “So Margaret would be wise to declare the election was her idea,” Peter said. “Attlee would likely go along with that.”

  “It would certainly secure her place in history,” Schloss said. “Although I don’t think that concerns her one bit.”

  “She sure characterizes English bloody-mindedness,” Rainer said.

  “And what is happening in Japan?” Schloss asked.

  “A good question,” Peter responded. “The new government placed the Americans there under house arrest and locked down the American military installations. Then they reversed themselves. The Japanese foreign minister went to the American embassy and offered to commit seppuku over their faux pas.”

  “Seriously?” Rainer expostulated.

  “Well, maybe not the seppuku part. But it was certainly an abject apology,” Peter said. “We don’t have a lot of people on the ground in Tokyo, but we are hearing that two factions are vying for control of the country. The militarists are based in the army, and it looks like the moderates have coalesced around the emperor with the navy supporting them. There’s no question that Konoe represents the emperor.”

  “I like our nice orderly society,” Schloss commented.

  “Yes,” Peter added, “Karl, let’s keep it that way.”

  “We do our best. Unfortunately, now that it looks like the war is going in our favor, our friends in Munich are getting active.”

  “Now, I didn’t want to hear that,” Schloss said. “What’s Wicklein doing?”

  “I’ve instructed him to keep a low profile with regards to the Munich Faction. He is watching, and I think he has several people inside. But we do not have a good feel for how much power they wield.”

  “Watch them, Karl,” Schloss directed. “We can’t afford to let a bunch of radical Nazis get loose in the country.”

  “I understand, and I am.”

  “What’s going on in America?” Schloss now asked.

  “Sending Heisenberg over was a good idea,” Peter said. “A lot of the scientists in their atomic project know him personally and like him.”

  “To give Truman credit, he was remarkably forbearing after that disaster with Schumann,” Rainer said.

  “Indeed,” Schloss said. “And it sounds like they are beginning to move people back into some of the blighted territory. It is sooner than anyone thought would happen.”

  “That’s some good news, then,” Rainer said. “How is our atomic project going?”

  “Not as fast as the Americans apparently were going. We have a small atomic device working, but we are years away from something useful for weapons or power. The Americans threw a lot of money at their project. Heisenberg speculated they had several devices running before the accident. Of course, now, we have no idea what they are doing.”

  “Whatever they are doing, I’m sure they are being careful about it,” Peter commented.

  Schloss laughed harshly. “That is probably true, Peter. Nothing like the burned hand.”

  “For sure. And I hope Heisenberg can learn from their mistake.”

  “It is always profitable if you can learn from someone else’s mistakes,” Rainer said.

  § § §

  August 1, 1944; 6 AM

  Wehrmacht Headquarters

  Silesia

  Ferdinand Schörner stared at the envelope sitting on his desk. It was lying there when he arrived ten minutes earlier. His name was written on the front in an elaborate cursive script, but the envelope was otherwise unmarked. Being a disciplined man, Schörner waited until he had prepared his first cup of coffee of the day and lit a cigarette. In his mind, breaking routine only led to disorder and eventual disaster.

  Now seated at his field desk with coffee and cigarette, Schörner picked up the envelope and studied it. There was nothing to betray its origin, and he thought it curious. After taking a sip of the coffee and a deep drag on the cigarette, he picked up the miniature cavalry sword he used as a letter opener.

  It was unusual to receive a handwritten letter on parchment-style paper.

  My Dear Ferdinand,

  It was distressing to hear that you have suffered such shame at the hands of Erwin Rommel. That is, of course, unacceptable to an officer of your standing and record. Having also had a similar experience, I can understand how you feel.

  I now represent a group of loyal Nazis in Munich who share our goals of a thousand-year Reich. We now extend to you a confidential invitation to join us in our cause.

  The first stage of our activities will be the declaration of a new German Reich comprising Silesia, Moravia, and Bavaria. The forces under your command will form the core of our new army.

  Because of the opportunities, we have present, you need to make a decision soon. Place your answer in an envelope addressed to EM. Leave it on your desk tonight.

  With my very best regards,

  Erhard Milch

  Schörner read the letter twice and then held his lighter to it. Once it had begun burning, he dropped the letter into his ashtray. He stirred the remains of the message with his letter opener. He then leaned back and sipped his coffee and smoked as he thought about what he had read.

  Although he was enraged at Rommel’s high-handedness, he had to admit the other general was right. The Russians were disorganized and poorly led, and there were no real challenges in holding his position despite the efforts of the Red Army to break the encirclement. It seemed to him that they had broken the back of the Russian offensive in the west. And Rommel was moved rapidly to consolidate the gains.

  Schörner was acquainted with Milch and had a low opinion of the man. Though a capable administrator, the former Reichsprotektor had consistently put his interests ahead of the Reich. Although he despised Heinrich Schloss and all he stood for, he fully agreed with the Reich Chancellor when he sacked Milch.

  Yet, there was something attractive about the offer. Of course, everyone had heard of the Munich Faction, and it was the foremost conservative Nazi organization in the Reich. The chance to put Germany back on the right course was attractive.

  It all came down to what honor demanded of Ferdinand Schörner. Did he honor his allegiance to the OKW and Germany, or did he follow the higher ideals of Nazism? He would draft a letter before he left his office that evening. And he would have the entire day to think about it.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  August 2, 1944; 6 PM

  The Queen’s Office

  Buckingham Palace

  London, England, UK

  “Well, that’s it for today,” the queen said as her last visitor left the office.

  “It has been a long one,” Colin Marty replied. “But we covered a lot of ground.”

  “Regardless of the circumstances, I shall be ever so glad to turn this all back over to the prime minister after the election.”

  “I suspect you will not be free of governing action, Ma’am.”

  “And why is that, Colin?”

  “Strong leaders do not simply fade away. Prime Minister Attlee asserted Parliamentary Supremacy, as was his right. The MPs are delighted, of course. But when the new government faces its first challenge, I believe they will call upon you. And your advice will have rather more weight than any monarch since the Stuarts.”

  “And that worries me,” she replied. “Look at what happened to the Stuart kings.”

  “And what is different now, Ma’am?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When Attlee announced to you that he was going to call elections, you immediately acquiesced. The Windsors have always adroitly managed the realm while instinctively knowing their place.”

  “But I had no choice, Colin!” she argued.

  “Exactly. I submit that your actions concerning the prime minister demonstrate why there will be no constitutional crisis surrounding the election. You did the right things, not because you wanted to, but because you recognized something that had to be done.”

  She smiled sadly. “You always manage to put a positive outlook on things, and I appreciate it. Will you dine with me tonight?”

  “Of course, Ma’am. I am delighted to, as always.”

  “You must be something of a masochist,” she laughed. “After a day of my rages and harangues, you agree to spend an evening with disagreeable me.”

  “I have such limited options, Your Majesty.”

  The queen responded with one of her characteristic belly laughs. “Ever the rogue, Colin. Shall we go, then. We can terrorize the kitchen staff by being early for dinner. And I badly need a drink.”