Chosen of the Valkyries (Twilight Of The Gods Book 2) (30 page)

He thought bitterly of Marie, the girl he’d met at the brothel.  She’d been sweet, warm and loving ... and though part of him knew it was an act, he would have preferred to be with her than on the battlefield.  He watched grimly as Loeb placed the body to one side, his expression making it very clear that the poor bastard would probably never have a proper burial.  It was unlikely they'd be able to hold the trench long enough to get the body to the nearest graveyard.

Poor bastard
, he thought. 
But at least he’s at peace
.

Turning, he took up position and watched as the enemy readied themselves for another thrust.

***

Hauptsturmfuehrer
Hennecke Schwerk kept his head down as he crawled slowly towards the enemy position, the position he knew had to be directly ahead of his squad.  The shellfire had made a mess of the ground - they’d already overrun one trench that looked to have been dug in a hurry - but that actually worked in their favour.  They’d assumed that their enemies would have an intimate knowledge of their own territory, yet the shellfire had torn it up so badly that their knowledge was almost worthless.

Bastards
, he thought, as he heard the crash of incoming mortar fire. 
They have all the trenches zeroed in
.

He clung to the ground as the shells exploded, one by one, then took the risk of lifting his head and peering ahead of him.  The enemy had converted a large blockhouse-like building into a strongpoint, ringing it with barbed fire and placing a number of machine guns in position to cover all the approaches.  It looked tough enough to shrug off shellfire, but he could see a problem with the design.  There were no protective grills over the murder holes.

“Get one of the antitank rockets up here,” he ordered, as he deployed his men to snipe at the enemy and keep them from mounting a counterattack.  “I want to put a rocket right into that blockhouse.”

“
Jawohl
,” the
Strumscharfuehrer
said.

Hennecke smirked, then fired a handful of shots towards the enemy.  If they were smart, they’d already be calling in more mortar fire to catch his squad on the hop, but it was just possible they didn't have the ammunition to open fire.  Or that their mortars were being redeployed to provide fire support to another strongpoint.  Either way, no shells crashed down on them as the
Strumscharfuehrer
reappeared, carrying a basic antitank missile launcher in one hand.  Hennecke had used them before, in Germany East, to clear strongpoints.  The Berlin Guard, lacking real experience, might not have anticipated such an attack.

It’s in the manuals
, he reminded himself, sharply. 
Even if they never took part in counterinsurgency operations, they will have read the damned manuals
.

The
Strumscharfuehrer
fired.  The wire-guided missile roared forward and crashed right through the murder hole, detonating inside the strongpoint.  There was an entire series of secondary explosions, the final one shattering the building beyond repair as it crashed down into a pile of rubble.  Hennecke shouted a command to his men, then rose and led the charge towards the debris.  A handful of shocked defenders had no time to run before they were shot down, one by one.  Moments later - far too late - mortar shells slammed down on where Hennecke had been, leaving his men unscathed.

“
Herr Hauptsturmfuehrer
,” one of his men shouted.  “Two of them are alive!”

Hennecke blinked in shock, then turned to walk over to where the two prisoners were standing.  One of them was an older man, probably a reservist who had been called back to the colours, while the other was young enough to be barely out of basic training.  He was shaking with fear, blood pouring down from a cut on his forehead and staining his uniform, while his older comrade was merely staring at the stormtroopers with a cold expression that sent shivers down Hennecke’s spine.  The man didn't expect to survive the coming hours.

His orders were clear, but contradictory.  On one hand, he was to continue advancing forward until he found something that forced him to stop; on the other, he was to send all prisoners back to the intelligence staff to be interrogated.  And yet, he didn’t have the manpower to do both.  If he detached a couple of men to escort the prisoners, he wouldn't be able to push so far into the defences ...

He shrugged as he drew his pistol and pointed it at the younger man’s head.  It wasn't as if either of the prisoners was going to survive the winter in any case.  He’d heard rumours about what lay in wait for the prisoners - and he knew that medical treatment wasn't going to be provided.  Really, he was doing them a favour.

The older man glared at him, but said nothing as Hennecke pulled the trigger.  Hennecke felt an odd chill running down the back of his neck at such silent hatred, even though it was useless.  The man wouldn't survive more than a handful of seconds.  And yet, he’d seen such hatred before, on the faces of Russians forced to dig a mass grave before the firing squads put them in it.  He’d seen their faces in his nightmares until he’d finally reminded himself - and believed it - that they were
Untermenschen
.  Their opinions and feeling didn't matter.

But the man in front of him was no
Untermensch ...

Gritting his teeth, he pointed the pistol at the second prisoner and pulled the trigger.  The man made no sound as his body tumbled to the ground.

“Come on,” Hennecke ordered, savagely.  He was damned if he would show weakness in front of the men.  “Let’s move!”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Berlin, Germany Prime

3 October 1985

Gudrun could hear the fighting in the distance as she made her way slowly down to the bunker, the dull thunder echoing over the city.  It grew quieter as she passed through the first security checkpoints, then vanished altogether once the doors were closed, but she could still feel it in her bones.  Two hours of increasingly savage fighting had made it clear that, whatever else happened, there wasn't going to be much of a city left when the war finally came to an end.

She looked up at Horst as they reached the final checkpoint.  Somewhat to her disappointment, he hadn't managed to work up the nerve to ask her to marry him - and she hadn't had the nerve to ask him either!  Part of her mind insisted that that was his job, the rest of her thought that
she
should be able to ask the question first.  And yet, her father’s warning hung in her mind.  To push a man to commit himself, before he was
ready
to commit himself, would only end badly.

“I’ll see you afterwards,” she said, quietly.  If the guard hadn't been standing outside the door, she would have kissed him.  “Take care of yourself.”

Horst smiled, rather tiredly.  “We have far too much to do to worry about taking care of ourselves,” he said.  “Good luck.”

Gudrun nodded - she knew that both Horst and her father had been working hard to catch the spy, then turned and stepped through the door into the war room.  Volker Schulze was sitting at the head of the table, looking grim, while the other councillors were slowly taking their seats.  Gudrun looked from face to face, wondering which one of them was the spy - if there
was
a spy.  Horst had pointed out that the SS could simply be fishing for incriminating information, if only because the
Reich
wouldn't have hesitated to meddle if the
Americans
had had a civil war.  Anything that kept the planet’s other superpower busy - and weakened it badly - would have suited the old council just fine.

Which raises the question
, Gudrun thought, as she took her seat. 
What would happen if the Reich became too weak
?

She contemplated the prospects grimly as the doors were closed and servants served coffee, then looked up as Schulze called the room to order.  He looked tired, she noted; he knew, all too well, that several of the men before him were plotting to betray him.  They might not be working for the SS, Gudrun knew, but they’d all risen to power through careful manipulation of the system.  Reducing Schulze to a figurehead, just like Adolf Bormann - the
Fuhrer
who had been so unimportant that no one had bothered to kill him - would have been ideal.  They could continue to master their separate power bases, while discussing matters that affected them all in committee.

Which is stupid
, Gudrun thought, tartly. 
If he wins the war, Karl Holliston will have every last man in the room shot, if they’re lucky.

“The battle has finally begun,” Schulze said, quietly.  “Field Marshal?”

Voss leaned forward.  He was old enough to be Gudrun’s father, but she’d always found him a little impressive, even if she didn't like him very much.  Quite apart from a genuine military record, he'd stayed in Berlin when he could have easily taken command of the relief force and escaped the city.  Schulze had stayed, of course, but he hadn't really had a choice.  Voss, on the other hand, could have left easily.  Instead, he’d chosen to put his life on the line.

Not that he could have escaped anyway
, Gudrun reminded herself.  The reports from the east were horrifically clear. 
Anyone who does not support Holliston enthusiastically will be counted as an enemy.

“The
Waffen-SS
launched a major incursion into the city two hours ago, following a major bombing raid,” Voss said.  “So far, as predicted, we have lost the outer edge of the defence lines, yet the remainder are still firmly in place.  Fighting has been savage, hand-to-hand in some places, but we have more than held our own.  There has been no mass collapse, nor have we had to send in the reserves.”

Kruger snorted.  “So the
Waffen-SS
isn't as good as they claimed?”

“They’re attacking a city,” Voss reminded him, calmly.  “All of their usual advantages are weakened, perhaps lost.  Their airpower isn’t as effective when they have to worry about antiaircraft missiles and their shelling isn't as accurate as they might have hoped.  And we have nowhere to run.  There’s no hope of a breakthrough they can use to wrench our legs open and thrust inside.”

He nodded at Gudrun.  “Begging your pardon, of course.”

Gudrun kept her face impassive.  She knew when she was being needled.

Schulze didn't look impressed.  “Can we hold out long enough for the relief force to arrive?”

“It depends on a number of factors,” Voss said, flatly.  “We stockpiled vast amounts of ammunition in the city prior to the invasion, but expenditure has been an order of magnitude over any pre-war predictions.  Fortunately” - he smiled, rather dryly - “they probably have the same problem.  I would expect them to be having problems shipping supplies to the front.”

His smile grew wider.  “And they certainly
will
have problems once our stay-behind cells come out of hiding.”

Gudrun took a moment to put it all together.  “Won’t that encourage atrocities against the civilian population?”

“Yes,” Voss said, flatly.  “Would you rather lose Berlin?  And, with it, any hope of preserving your revolution?”

He is not my father
, Gudrun reminded herself, sharply.  The tone - the voice he used to address a silly little girl - was far too close to her father when he was in a bad mood, but her father was ... well, her
father
.  It was his job to keep her from making stupid mistakes, even ones as minor as adding two and two together and getting five. 
And he should not be talking to me like that
.

She leaned forward, speaking in an icy tone she would never have dared use to her
real
father.  “And would you prefer to see countless civilians killed?”

“I would
prefer
to see the SS vanish,” Voss said.  He sounded oddly amused - and, for a second, she saw a flash of
respect
in his eyes.  “But we have to deal with the reality we have, not the reality we want.  And the reality we have is that failing to make life difficult for the SS’s logistic officers is going to cost us badly.  Allowing them to mass their firepower against Berlin will be disastrous.”

“I understand the costs,” Schulze said, quietly.  “And we have no choice.”

The hell of it, Gudrun knew, was that they were right.  Horst had taught her enough about logistics for her to understand their argument.  But, at the same time, she knew what would happen to any innocent civilians caught nearby.  The reports from the east were an endless liturgy of horror.  They’d be tortured, raped and finally killed.  If the SS had ever hoped to win hearts and minds - and she found it rather unlikely - that hope had long since faded.

She closed her eyes in pain.  Horst had explained, more than once, that the easterners regarded the westerners as soft, but she’d never really understood it.  The
Reich
had never been noticeably more liberal in Germany Prime.  Indeed, the only place where there had been any real
hint
of liberalism had been Germany South ... and, even there, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time was more than enough to get someone sent to a concentration camp and brutally murdered.  But it didn't really matter.  Whatever the cause, the easterners held the westerners in contempt.  And that contempt was pushing them to commit atrocities.

Voss cleared his throat.  “I don’t promise victory,” he said.  “But as long as they don’t make a major breakthrough, we should be able to hold the line.”

“Except that we already have rats within the walls,” Admiral Wilhelm Riess said.  The head of the
Abwehr
scowled at Voss.  “They have at least one team of commandos in Berlin, perhaps more.”

“We have doubled security at all vulnerable points and mounted a number of raids on suspect households,” Voss said, sharply.  “There is little else we
can
do.”

“They are already spreading SS propaganda,” Riess announced, loudly.  He pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his briefcase and unfolded it, holding it in the air so they could see the words.  “This was found near a recruiting station.”

He gave Gudrun a sharp look.  “They clearly learned a few things from you.”

Gudrun scowled as she read the poster.  It wasn’t much, merely a reminder that the SS was coming and all those who stood against their advance would be branded traitors, but the mere fact that someone had managed to put it in place was worrying.  And yet, it would be easier for the SS than it had been for her, back when the underground movement had been starting out.  There were fewer policemen on the street and a growing tradition of questioning uniformed authority.

“And this isn't the worst of it,” Riess continued.  He reached back into his briefcase.  “My men caught a handful of brats distributing these!”

Gudrun frowned as Riess produced a handful of leaflets and placed them on the table.  She took one and read it, quickly.  The basic message was identical to the poster, but there was an offer of conditional amnesty for anyone who deserted the provisional government or simply turned on their comrades, when the main offensive began.  She had no idea how many people would be tempted, yet - as the noose tightened around Berlin - she had a feeling that far too many people would be very tempted indeed.

“I see,” Schulze said.  “And what did the distributors have to say?”

“Very little,” Riess admitted.  “They were refugee children, already on the verge of starvation.  Their families were to be given additional foodstuffs if their children distributed the leaflets around Berlin.  We have rounded up and interrogated the families, but they don't seem to know anything useful.  We need tighter security.”

“Which we do not have the manpower to provide,” Voss snapped.  “If we put more soldiers on the streets, we take them away from the front lines.”

“Then we need to expand our counter-intelligence network,” Riess snapped back.  “The SS handled all such matters and the SS is gone!”

Gudrun groaned, inwardly, as the pieces fell into place.  It was a power grab.  The
Abwehr
- military intelligence - had long resented its subordination to the SS, although - unlike the
Gestapo
- it had managed to retain a separate identity.  Expanding the
Abwehr’s
counter-intelligence responsibilities would give Riess far more power, which he could use to push himself into prominence.  Why not?  Himmler had done the same and, before the uprising, the SS had been one of the most powerful factions in Germany.

And if we let the Abwehr grow in power
, she thought numbly,
how long will it be before we have a new master
?

She shuddered at the thought.  She’d always had mixed feelings about the SS, but after reading some of the files she'd discovered just how far the SS had worked its way into the warp and weft of German politics.  Politicians, military officers and bureaucrats had been steadily brought under the SS’s sway, bribed or blackmailed into supporting its decisions and enforcing its rules.  She’d been taught to fear the informer from a very early age - like all German children - but she’d never imagined that high-ranking politicians could feel the same way.  It had simply never crossed her mind.

“This is not the time to expand the
Abwehr’s
responsibilities,” Voss said.  “We need to locate and remove other SS informers within the ranks.”

“And someone within the ranks may be helping them,” Riess pointed out.  “Tracking down the commandos within Berlin might lead us to the informers.”

“I highly doubt they will allow themselves to be taken alive,” Voss sneered.  “These men are trained to avoid capture.”