Origins: The Reich (22 page)

Valnor arrived in
Moscow by plane from Leningrad and was immediately taken to the Kremlin.  There he entered a conference room with a five foot by eight-foot map of the western Soviet Union laid out upon the table.  Dotting the landscape were red and grey flag stands labeling the location, composition and size of German and Red Army forces.  The scene could not have been more chaotic if a dozen monkeys flinging feces were loose in the room.

Stalin was bellowing threats of execution for treason while eight different men wearing the rank of general on their collars attempted to shift blame away from themselves.  On the map, Valnor ascertained that their forces in and around Moscow were outnumbered two to one and were outgunned given the number of German tank and aircraft divisions in the area.  To the south of Moscow near the Ukrainian border, over a million soldiers of the Red Army were completely cut off and surrounded by the Germans.

By everyone’s tone, and the words he could decipher amid all the shouting, everyone present believed the fall of Moscow was unavoidable.  Given the hopeless state of affairs, no one would dare stick their neck out to try and save the situation for fear of having it chopped off by an angry Stalin for failure.

After thirty seconds spent observing, Valnor had heard and seen enough.  He drew the pistol from his hip holster and fired a round into the floor.  The thunderous blast echoed around the four walls of the room until the sound dissipated and took with it all the other noise in the chamber. 

“I was summoned from overseeing the defense of Leningrad,” Valnor said loud enough to hold the attention of every man in the room.  “Now I see why.”

Protocol required that Valnor recognize Stalin’s leadership of the meeting, but he saw no need to stand on ceremony now.  Valnor had worked closely with Stalin for over ten years.  He knew the man and his hatred for ass kissers, especially when swift and decisive action was required.  Stalin did not want yes men or blame passers. He required a leader willing to get the job done at any cost, thus Valnor took over the meeting to make sure that leader was him.

“What the hell happened near Kursk and Kiev?” Valnor began while pointing an accusing finger to the location on the map.  “Nearly eight hundred thousand men dead and another million surrounded?  Who commands our southwestern wing?”

“I do,” General Budyonny declared.  “General Secretary Stalin ordered my men to advance into the center of the German offensive, and they were surrounded.”

“Why are you not with your men leading them out of those German jaws of death clamped around their throats?” Valnor demanded.

“I was away attending my wife’s birthday party when the order came through and am now unable to reach them.”

“You what?” Valnor shouted.  “Our motherland is on the verge of collapse and you are throwing a party back home rather than commanding your divisions?  You, sir, are officially relieved of duty.”

“But Comrade Stalin…” Budyonny began, but had his squeaky voice silenced by a hole in his head from Valnor’s pistol.  The buffoon’s body went rigid as a board, tipped backwards on its heels and crashed onto the hardwood floor behind.

Those not paralyzed by shock looked toward Stalin for guidance as Valnor holstered his firearm.  The General Secretary took a moment to draw a long, contemplative drag from his cigar.  He then asked in a tone that conveyed his intention to move on from the shooting only moments before, “One third of our active divisions are now cut off and in need of rescue, while our capital city is about to be sacked.  How do you propose we proceed?”

“We proceed by giving up on this insane notion of yours that this Red Army is a force capable of attacking the German army head on.  They have us outmanned and outgunned; we must wait for Hitler to throw and exhaust his army against our defenses before we move to save those stranded men.”

“Who do you think you are to issue such cowardly orders?” a particularly old and frail looking general insisted.

“I,” Valnor declared and then took the time to look each man around the table in the eye before continuing, “Am the only man in this room who has beaten the German army, soundly I might add, in a significant engagement.  Now, unless anyone else can post a better resume, you will conduct the defense of Moscow my way.”

Once again, everyone in the room looked to Stalin for a reply, which came after another long drag from his shortening cigar, “What are your orders?”

It did not take much to draw the German forces in toward Moscow’s fortifications.  Kiev and Kursk had fallen.  Leningrad to the north, and Stalingrad to the south were surrounded and in dire straits.  Now they went for the jugular to try and end the war before winter could set in.  Their soldiers lacked cold weather gear, and their heavy equipment could not function in thirty degree below temperatures. Time was running out, and the Germans knew it.  This played right into Valnor’s plan, one that he borrowed from Captain Hastelloy’s desperate battle against the Alpha, before crash landing on Earth.

Rather than spread his forces thin trying to hold onto worthless territory out of stubborn pride, Valnor gave ground to the Germans and brought his men back toward Moscow, forming concentric lines of defense in the shape of a C around the city.  This would make Valnor’s job of repelling any German attack relatively easy through the use of interior reinforcement lines. 

If a particular combat zone needed help, troops and tanks would be called from a section not under attack and get there almost immediately by moving in a straight line from one point to another.  If the Germans attempted to exploit the hole left by the missing troops, they needed to go all the way around the city, a maneuver that took at least a day to execute. 

As planned, the German forces devoured the open terrain.  They began with aggressive probes of the Soviet defenses, but quickly focused their efforts on the northern and southern flanks of Valnor’s C-shaped defensive line.  The weight and ferocity of their attacks around the sides induced a state of panic in the central command center.

Amid all the chaos, Valnor issued a bold order that almost sent Stalin into cardiac arrest.  “Pull all but our first line of defense away from our center and send them to support the flanks.”

“If they push on our center, the city is lost,” Stalin insisted.  “We cannot give that order.”

“There will be no attack from the center today,” Valnor declared without a hint of doubt in his voice.  “Their troops are almost completely inactive in the center; it’s clearly for show while the real battle takes place on the edges.”

“Besides, both our flanks are being overrun.  Without those reinforcements on the edge, the city will be lost anyway; we really have nothing to lose by taking this risk,” Valnor added while shrugging his shoulders in resignation.

Stalin let loose a frustrated sigh, then barked at thirteen couriers waiting for the official order to relay to the battlefield commanders.  “What are you waiting for?  General Zhukov has issued the order.”

Long days passed with a seemingly endless parade of couriers reporting into the command center with status reports from the field.  Wherever the Germans attacked along the perimeter, they met an equal, if not greater number of Soviet soldiers dug in. 

Day after day, the German’s would stagger back from a failed assault, hurry to reposition halfway around the city and attack again only to find a large and well rested mass of defenders behind barricades once more. It was a lesson Valnor learned from the master, and it was implemented to perfection with great satisfaction from Stalin.

Soon more and more reports began coming in that the German forces were pulling back from the edges after suffering horrendous casualties during the flanking attacks. This caused the hairs on the back of Valnor’s neck to stand up in both alarm and excitement.
Valnor knew the Germans would eventually realize that his tactical scheme was problematic and would move against his now weakened center. It was risky, but it was also a tremendous opportunity. 

The next day, just as he predicted, the Germans launched an all-out attack on the central sector troops. Valnor did not reinforce those positions and endured several hours of Stalin and his other generals cursing Valnor and the satanic beast who sired him. Their protests were not without foundation as the German thrust moved to within ten miles of Moscow’s city center, but there within sight of the Kremlin they met their end.

The Germans had managed to push the Soviet center so far in that the reinforced flanks of the Red Army now surrounded them on three sides.  They effortlessly closed the circle and ultimately took six hundred thousand German soldiers out of action.  It was a resounding victory that finally let the Red Army go on the offensive, which Stalin ordered with great pride.  Within two weeks, the German army was pushed back two hundred miles from Moscow, which freed over a million Soviet troops from their encirclement near Kiev. 

As December rolled in, it brought along a violent cold spell. Valnor advanced with his men and saw fewer German planes in the sky harassing his advancing columns.  He also saw more and more German tanks broken down along the side of the road as well as hundreds, and soon thousands, of German soldiers frozen to death wearing summertime combat gear.  The Red Army’s other weapon had arrived and was doing more damage to the Germans than anything the Soviets could accomplish on their own, and it had the Germans in full retreat.

“
I’m taking off
for the evening,” Hastelloy’s secretary announced with her heavy winter coat on and purse in hand.  She paused in front of the open door long enough to say, “You know there is more to life in D.C. than work.  It’s Saturday night, do some Christmas shopping, see the lights strung around the national mall, or even have a drink with a lovely young lady for a change.”

That last comment pulled Hastelloy’s head out of the papers strewn about his desk to display a broad grin.  “Why Alvina, is that a proposition?”

“You should be so lucky,” the white haired sixty-five year old playfully countered with a wave of her hand.  “Besides, I said young and lovely.”

“Well, you certainly have the lovely part covered still,” Hastelloy batted back.  “Enjoy the rest of your evening.  I’m afraid I am in this one for the long haul.”

“Fine, be a lonely hermit then,” Alvina grumbled on her way toward the front security desk of the Department of Justice building.  “I’ll see you Monday morning bright and early.”

“I’ve had plenty of time to get used to it,” Hastelloy sighed to himself with a regretful shake of his head.  It had been a very long several months since Germany invaded the Soviet Union at the start of summer.  In truth, he preferred these times of high activity.  Formulating plans and moving pieces around in the background in preparation was meticulous and exhausting work.  Ushering those plans through the chaos of real world implementation was energizing and rewarding for him; that is, when things went according to plan.

A year earlier, Hastelloy’s plan to deal with the growing Alpha threat on Mars was running like clockwork; better than he had any right to expect.  The Soviet Union, under Valnor’s supervision, was rapidly evolving into an industrial superpower.  The United States was achieving monumental gains while emerging from the great economic depression of the 1930s.  Plus, against all odds, Tomal and Gallono had managed to revive Germany and unite most of Europe under their sphere of influence.  Three superpowers were created and set to the task of technological research to reach and destroy the Alpha colony still thriving on Mars.

Then the disaster that is Tomal’s mental state happened again.  Gallono was right.  Tomal was exceeding his orders by gathering pieces necessary to build atomic weapons.  On top of that, several German spies were now buzzing around Tonwen’s atomic research efforts, The Manhattan Project, just waiting to steal the final designs.

Fortunately, Hastelloy’s information gathering network, fueled by bribes, blackmail, and occasionally patriotism, knew no boundaries.  He knew who the spies were and had them well contained chasing disinformation and phantom research locations.

The only bright side to Tomal’s mental state was Hastelloy’s understanding of his ego.  Seeing Valnor achieve so much success in the Soviet Union and having Gallono rub it in at every opportunity had the desired effect.  The Germans attacked the Soviet Union before finishing the battle for Britain.

Gallono also managed to be reassigned to service in North Africa.  There he moved his troops, against orders, and took over Egypt to secure the Nexus chamber from Tomal.  In doing so, Gallono earned the nickname ‘The Desert Fox’ from his adversaries and no doubt caused Tomal much anxiety upon seeing yet another Novi crewmember shine.

Prodding Tomal to attack the Soviet Union had proven to be a far more risky gambit than Hastelloy ever imagined.  Through lack of preparation and incompetent battlefield leadership, the Soviets took it on the chin all summer and fall.  They only managed to turn the tide of battle in their favor with disaster knocking at Moscow’s front door.  Valnor was finally given the reins to run the Red Army his way and the results were spectacular gains; Germany was now feeling the heat on both sides. 

The only thing needed now was for the Americans to enter the war and Tomal’s German threat would end, along with the genocide now being committed against the Soviet and Jewish prisoners.  For that to happen, the American people would need to feel a direct threat to their safety in order to support entering yet another European war.  Reading news articles in the New York Times, or seeing pictures of the carnage in Time Magazine just did not have the impact.  The American people were an ocean away from the conflict and felt safe.  That needed to change.

To that end, Hastelloy turned his attention to intelligence reports concerning the Empire of Japan.  Crippling trade embargoes against Japan had led to some heated diplomatic trade negotiations, but no shots fired.  Yet everything pointed to that changing very soon.

In total, six Japanese aircraft carrier battle groups had set sail during the last two weeks.  Deciphered radio chatter placed all six at various locations throughout the Pacific Rim, but none of Hastelloy’s agents in those areas had been able to confirm their presence.  Add this to intercepted radio reports the FBI was tracking from Toshikawa Hideo, a Japanese national living near the Pearl Harbor naval base in Hawaii.  He was transmitting messages back to Japan on a daily basis reporting on ship counts.  The missing ships and Toshikawa’s act of espionage painted a pretty clear picture of future events.

The trick now was making sure the damage from any attack would be significant enough to enrage the American public, but not severe enough to hamper America’s ability to fight back.  At the same time, Hastelloy needed to make sure the damage inflicted in an attack would be worth Japan’s effort.

Hastelloy picked up his phone and dialed the number of his co-conspirator in Hawaii.  “Rear Admiral Halsey.  It’s happening soon.  My guess would be Sunday morning local time while most men are either asleep or at church.”

“I’ll make sure the carriers and airfields are kept on high alert,” the Admiral said.

Hastelloy wished that could be the case.  He did not mind soldiers dying in battle since they were given a fighting chance, but that could not be the case here.  The prospect of men dying in a surprise attack turned his stomach; nonetheless, he gave the order.  “No.  You know as well as anyone that carriers are the new masters of the sea.  If we lose them, Japan will rule the Pacific for decades to come.  We can’t risk them.  Send the carriers out, and have the battleships: Nevada, Oklahoma, and Arizona take their place in port to keep the trap well baited.  Besides, the deck guns on those battleships will stand a better chance of hitting planes once the shooting starts.”

“We’re putting thousands of service men at risk with this,” the Admiral protested in a shaky voice that screamed the man was losing heart in the endeavor.  “I can hustle the carriers out and jam in those thirty year old battleships, but the base needs to be put on alert.  Fleet Admiral Kimmel needs to know what’s about to hit him there at Pearl.”

“If you do, the Japanese might not attack or not do enough damage to induce adequate outrage by the American public to join the war.  Then all of this would have been for nothing.  You have a duty to the greater good of the entire nation, Admiral, not just the sailors at Pearl Harbor.  I don’t like it any more than you do, but this needs to happen or we’ll be facing Germany and Japan all by ourselves at some point down the road,” Hastelloy argued, and his words seemed to hit the mark.

“I’ll give the order, but by god the second we see them coming…”

“Every gun and plane in Hawaii will be roused to defend our men and territory,” Hastelloy said, finishing the Admiral’s sentiment.  “Good hunting, Admiral.”

Hastelloy hung up the phone and placed another call to his contact charged with operating the new SCR-270 radar outpost on the Hawaiian island of Oahu.  “Major Bergquist, it’s me.  Intelligence points toward the Japanese launching an aerial attack on Pearl Harbor sometime tomorrow morning.  Since the admirals and generals there still don’t trust the technology, I need you to reach me the instant anything bigger than a flock of birds shows up on your screens.  I’ll then relay the message and convince the top brass that the threat is real.  Is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” the Major replied.  “Can I ask how big of an attack you’re expecting?”

“Perhaps a couple dozen planes from a single carrier,” Hastelloy replied before hanging up the phone. 
If it truly exists, I’m going to hell someday,
Hastelloy thought to himself while making another pot of stout coffee.  It was going to be a long day tomorrow.

Around nine in the morning, Eastern Time, Hastelloy received notice that a Japanese submarine was sunk just outside the inlet into the Pearl Harbor Naval Base.  Three hours after that, he took a frantic call from his radar operator, Major Bergquist.  “Sir, I…uh…you said to look for ten or twenty planes, but I’m reading over three hundred aircraft on approach.  They’re about thirty minutes out.”

“How many?” Hastelloy asked with doubt forced in behind his words.

“At least three or maybe even four hundred planes.  The only time I’ve ever seen a blip this large before now was from a flock of seagulls.”

“That just can’t be,” Hastelloy protested.  “To transport that many aircraft the Japs would need to have six or seven carriers out there.  When was the last time your readings were affected by birds?”

“It happened two months ago.  A migrating flock of seagulls wound up triggering a massive reading.  That’s why the admiral doesn’t trust the system.  We recalibrated it to filter out those kinds of readings, but do you think that is what’s going on again?”

“Yes, I do,” Hastelloy said after pretending to give it some thought.  “I don’t need the brass discrediting that radar system any more than they already do.  Just sit on this reading and track it for a while.”

“Yes sir.”

Hastelloy hung up the phone, sat down at his desk and took the time to finish an entire pot of coffee before grabbing his coat and briefcase.  He left the office building, got into his car, and leisurely made his way toward the White House.  When he arrived, Hastelloy’s credentials as Director of the FBI got him through external security in record time and on his way to the Oval Office.

He entered the president’s office to find the room filled with his primary Cabinet advisors along with the Joint Chiefs.  All of them were held in stunned silence as Fleet Admiral Leahy gave a situation report.

“The Japanese hit us with two fighter waves, each including over three hundred and fifty fighters and torpedo bombers.  They managed to sink four battleships, with the other four sustaining heavy damage.  Three cruisers and another three destroyers along with nearly two hundred airplanes were also destroyed.”

“My God,” President Roosevelt said in bewilderment.  “We provoked this.  We knew the Japanese would eventually respond to our trade embargoes, how could we not be prepared for this?”

“We were, Mr. President,” Admiral Leahy responded.  “We just never considered an attack of this scale.  As of yesterday, the FBI had reported that five of the six aircraft carriers used in the attack were elsewhere.  We had no reason to suspect such a large scale attack.”

The president looked directly at Hastelloy with a never before seen rage burning in his eyes, “Bureau Director Hoover, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Our objective has been accomplished.  The Japanese were successfully baited into attacking the United States of America, and it appears to be an attack without provocation in the eyes of the voting public.  You wanted your war, and now you have it at the cost of some late model hardware with only a few operational years left before being mothballed anyway,” Hastelloy reported.  “The objective was achieved.”

“And at the cost of how many men?” President Roosevelt hollered.

“Over 2,400,” Admiral Leahy reported.

Struggling against his infirmity, President Roosevelt rose out of his wheelchair and pointed a menacing finger at Hastelloy.  “You promised a minor attack that we’d be able to see coming to defend against.  Thousands are now dead because of you.”

“Yes, but a nation, and possibly the free world will be saved as a result,” Hastelloy countered, which earned him looks of disdain but also nods of agreement.

The next day, Hastelloy stood along the back wall of the White House pressroom where President Roosevelt addressed the nation:

‘Yesterday, December 7th, 1941 -- a date which will live in infamy -- the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.

The United States was at peace with that nation and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation with its government and its emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific.  Indeed, one hour after Japanese air squadrons had commenced bombing on the American island of Oahu, the Japanese ambassador and his colleague delivered to our Secretary of State a formal reply to a recent American message. And while this reply stated that it seemed useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations, it contained no threat or hint of war or of armed attack.

It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time, the Japanese government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace.

The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian Islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. I regret to tell you that very many American lives have been lost. In addition, American ships have been reported torpedoed on the high seas between San Francisco and Honolulu.