The Invasion of 1950 (38 page)

“We have some links on a very private level with their government,” Churchill said, slowly. He held Truman’s eyes, reminding him that was
not
to be shared further, whatever the reason. The Turkish Government had long historical reasons to hate the British. However, there were factions that preferred the British to the Germans. The Germans might, one day, try to exterminate the Turks. It didn’t help that the British were the main suppliers of weapons to the Turks, leaving the Germans permanently suspicious of British meddling in the region. “The Germans are pushing them to invade Iraq and Palestine.”

“Ouch,” Truman said. He studied the map for a long moment. “Don’t they have the Iranians for that?”

Churchill smiled. “They’re not too keen, we suspect, on the Iranians being in too strong a position,
vis-à-vis
the
Reich
,” he said. “The terms of their deal with the Iranians were that they would build up the Iranian Army to a point where it could stand us off and even allow the Iranians to take a role in the New Order. If Iran was to gain control of Iraq, they would become much more powerful and perhaps even inclined to start looking for other ways to improve their power base. Hitler would prefer for them to be heading east, into India, but that won’t be anything as lucrative as hitting Iraq.”

Truman considered. “And what happens when – if – Hitler gives the order and your defence unravels?”

“The Italians will come over the Suez and into Palestine,” Churchill said. “They will meet fanatical resistance from the Jews, but we suspect that the Arabs will rise up to support the Italians, despite how they have treated independence aspirations in Egypt. The Nazis will probably insist on delegating the solution of the Jewish Problem – as they call it – to the radical Arabs, who will slaughter and get slaughtered…”

“Therefore weakening them for when the Germans come,” Truman agreed.

“At the same time, the Turks and perhaps the Iranians will invade Iraq,” Churchill said. “Most of Iraq is unimportant to us, but Mosel – in the north – and Basra – in the south – are very important. It will be very hard to defend them. We will hold them as long as we can, but in the long term they will fall. Once they do, our sources of oil will dwindle down to nothingness, apart from what we get from you.”

He hesitated. “They will also be in a position to overawe the Saudis,” he added. “It would be easy for them to push the Saudis into rescinding the contracts they signed with American oilmen, or even taking the oil fields and daring you to do something about it. You don’t have anything there apart from a naval station and that pair of destroyers won’t be a deterrent to the Iranians, not with the ships they purchased off the Japanese. That would be a direct shot across your bows.”

“And an unclear one,” Truman said. Roosevelt had hoped for something so dramatic, so violent, so unprovoked – at least publicly – that it would unite the country behind the cause of crushing the Nazis and their Japanese allies. If the Germans and their allies only intimidated the Saudis into refusing to accept future American contracts, how could anyone use it to unite the country for war? “What do you want from us?”

Churchill sighed. “Two things,” he said. “Ideally, we would like you to dispatch reinforcements to Saudi Arabia, something that would make them think twice about doing anything that might irritate you…”

“The Panay incident didn’t work out too well,” Truman reminded him. The Japanese had sunk an American ship back during their rape of Nanking and had gotten away with it. Maybe Roosevelt should have tried to use it to unite the country, but it had only been a few lives, and the Japanese had sworn that it had been an accident…

“The second thing we need is supplies,” Churchill said. “We built up a massive stockpile of weapons and vehicles, but we are already facing shortages due to the tempo of modern war. If we run out of the more critical items, we will be unable to continue the fighting and will have to sue for the best terms we can get.”

Truman gritted his teeth, remembering Roosevelt. He had worried until his dying day that the Royal Navy would fall into the hands of the Germans. The Germans already had access to the French and Italian navies; what would happen if they combined what they had with the British fleet and sailed against America? Roosevelt had known that Britain would be needed as a base for the war he had thought was inevitable. Dewey hadn’t agreed and when it became obvious that the British couldn’t pay for their supplies, he had cut the supply chain. That betrayal had almost caused a second depression; it had certainly led to Dewey being told by his Party that they wouldn’t stand for him seeking a second term.

“I can take that to the President and ask him to try to get you some more support,” he said, looking for the right words. How could he convince Churchill that something would be needed from Britain…and did he even have something that could be offered in payment? “Can you pay for it?”

“No,” Churchill said flatly. Truman nodded; he had expected as much. The hint of bitterness in Churchill’s tone surprised him. “The only payment we can make will be in blood, toil, tears and sweat…while we die to save America from the coming war with the Nazis.”

Truman looked into the future and didn’t like what he saw. He knew some things about German science. They were looking endlessly for ways to achieve world domination. Rockets across the ocean, newer and better weapons, training and exercise standards far better than anything the Americans could match…if war came, now, it would be far easier to win than if war came ten years in the future.

“I see,” he said, knowing that his President was not going to be happy. “What do you need?”

Over North Sea

A cold air
blew across the landing field as the pilots marched out to their aircraft. The fires might have been put out a fortnight ago, but the airfield still bore the mark of the German assault, with blackened buildings and ruined outposts where the German bombs had fallen.

Flight Lieutenant Stanley Baldwin had flown over the wreckage of Home Fleet when his Gannet aircraft had landed at Scapa Flow and he had been awed by the sheer scale of the devastation. It would be years before the ships could be recovered, repaired, and pressed back into service…if they could be salvaged at all. The remainder of Home Fleet had departed to the Clyde. In their absence, the base seemed somehow smaller.

It still thronged with activity. Thousands of repairman and engineers had flooded into the base after the German raid, trying desperately to repair as much as possible. The airfields had been one of the first priorities, and while the original aircraft had been destroyed on the ground or killed in the air, the heavy Fleet Air Arm force had landed and was primed to respond to the German assault. The Germans hadn’t given them an opportunity to take revenge, however, until now. The pilots, lost in their own thoughts, barely noticed as they boarded their aircraft.

The briefing had been surprisingly clear. “The Germans intend to send a raiding force into the Atlantic,” the Group Commander had said. “Our job is to put them off the idea.”

The pilots had laughed then, although they knew that it wasn’t going to be easy. The RAF and the Royal Navy had fought a series of political battles, every bit as intense as actual fighting in the air, over who should command the maritime aerial strike force until the Prime Minister had ordered the command be given to the Royal Navy. The FAA existed, at least in part, to provide support to the Royal Navy, and Atlee had ruled that the Royal Navy would therefore have primary command, although some of the FAA’s facilities were shared with the RAF.

They’d trained endlessly for assaults against shipping and had practised as best as they could with the RAF, but attacking a single German ship wasn't easy. There were five large German ships in the fleet they were expecting…and one of them was a carrier. The Germans had copied Japanese designs and it showed. Their carriers held more aircraft and were regarded as being more fragile than British designs.

Baldwin’s lips quirked. That piece of wisdom would be tested today, along with the mettle of the squadron. The Germans were known to have powerful radars mounted on their ships and, unless the attack was timed precisely, they would have the support of land-based aircraft as well. He ran through his check-list as the propellers began to spin, before watching the first of the RAF Meteors leaving the landing field and climbing into the sky. He didn’t like the Meteors – the FAA didn’t have many jet aircraft and wouldn’t until someone produced a jet aircraft that could launch from a carrier – but there was no doubting their prowess in the air.

The Germans had developed a habit of timing their own raids in hopes of catching tired British aircraft landing on their airfields. If they tried it this time, they would run into a full flight of Meteors, all out for revenge. It wasn’t too likely. However, as time had ground on, the Germans had switched more and more to close air support missions, preparing for the assault against the British lines that everyone knew was coming.

His radio hissed and crackled. “Red Three, go,” the Group Commander ordered.

Baldwin released the aircraft and it lunged down the runway, before slowly nosing into the air, staggering slightly under the weight of the weapons it carried.

“Form up on lead and maintain radio silence.”

Baldwin looked down at the Orkneys below as his plane rose higher into the air. They looked so peaceful, so untouched by the modern world, from his height. They would have been perfect were it not for the Germans. As it was, they were in a great position for a harbour, allowing the Home Fleet to sail out and intercept their German opponents whenever they came past Denmark, a piece of wisdom that had fallen when the Germans launched their air raid. He knew, now, that they needed to prove that there was still bite in the British armed forces…and hopefully scale the German fleet back a few ships.

The plane rocked slightly as one of the escorting meteors flew past. The jets had topped off from the orbiting tankers, something that the RAF had been experimenting with for the past few years, before racing ahead towards the German ships. The flight would still take a long time, but unless the Germans had changed course at once they were on a direct line towards the German ships, or, in theory, where the German ships would be when they arrived.

It was easy to see what the German ships had in mind. They would vanish out into the Atlantic, intercept and sink a few dozen freighters and then escape before they encountered anything powerful enough to stop them. They were more modern than the remaining battleships in Home Fleet and, perhaps, more powerful as well. They could escape, or fight, at will.

He remembered his brother, a Midshipman onboard one of the sunken battleships, and silently promised Peter a bloody revenge. The Germans would pay for what they had done to his family whatever it took. He was already determined to sink a German ship or die trying. His mother had cried on the telephone, but his father, an old soldier himself, had merely told him to go get them. This time, Baldwin hoped that Churchill was right, and the mad dog Hitler would be put down once and for all.

“Enemy fighters rising from the enemy carrier,” the radio squawked. Baldwin frowned as he considered his position. The Gannet was probably slower and less nimble than the German fighters, even if they were supposed to be no match for the Meteors. Any smart enemy commander would order his planes to ignore the Meteors and go for the torpedo-bombers; if all of the bombers were shot down or chased away from the task force, the Germans would have won. “Advance fighters are engaging the enemy.”

He peered into the distance, wondering if he would see anything, but all he saw were columns of smoke and aircraft trails as the British Meteors engaged the German carrier-borne fighters, hopefully clearing a path for the bombers. He’d listened carefully to the survivors of the British carrier aircraft at Scapa Flow – those who had made it into the air and fought the Germans – and he’d deduced that it was actually possible to take out a jet with a propeller-driven fighter, assuming that one was careful and lucky. The Germans, like the British, would only allow the best pilots to fly from a carrier; the odds were that they were as good as the boys who had engaged German fighters and lived to tell the tale. That wasn't good news…

The German fleet appeared, four battleships and one carrier escorted by a spread of destroyers. According to his elder brother in one of his infrequent letters, the destroyers were regarded with particular dread by British submariners. They were far too good at detecting and destroying a submarine trying to slip into attack position. Rumour had it that the Germans had some kind of homing device for their torpedoes, something that allowed them to fire with only a vague contact, but no one had been able to prove or disprove it so far. The fleet was bunching up as it turned, firing all of its anti-aircraft guns into the air and trying to shoot down or drive away the British aircraft before it was too late.