Chapter Six

“So Mr. Kelso, I trust you are willing to go through with this?” Wachmann asked as they stopped in a backstreet in one of the less reputable districts in western Berlin.

“Why should I not?”

“Well, mainly because the man running the shop either is the biggest show-off and braggart you can imagine or he was at Klagenfurt and Nuremberg.”


Kelso winced.

“Ouch. That is bad indeed.” The fanatical defence of the Party rally grounds by the Waffen-SS was legendary and almost proverbial.

“I don't trust him any farther than I could throw this bloody city, but he's the go-to bloke for any form of militaria from The War and frankly he knows the scene best. It would be better if we parked down the block though, because this is not only a military Land Rover but also clearly marked as the property of the Australian Military Police, and that will send him out the back faster than you can say uncle.”

Kelso glanced backwards as he spied a spot and eased the vehicle into it between a black Auto-Union DKW[2] Delivery Van and a cherry-red Beetle and carefully locked the doors as they got out. The passers by didn't take particular notice of them, in Berlin Allied Military police was not uncommon as they still retained jurisdiction of anything related to Allied servicemen and there was enough to do in that area to satisfy anyone.

Kelso had made the wise decision to change out of his uniform into civilian clothes that were not out of place for an ordinary German policeman and followed the somewhat older Wachmann at a respectable distance as if he were his younger and less experienced partner.

The distance to their destination was covered in less than a minute and when they approached the shop window the shutters came down as soon as they were spotted. Wachmann dashed to the door, but it was too late. By the time he got there it was locked and the “CLOSED” sign was prominent.

“Wilhelm, open the door before I kick it in.” Wachmann yelled into the crack between the door and the wall, knowing that the man inside would be able to hear him. “We're not here for you, not this time. So if you open up, answer a few questions and I am convinced that they are mostly the truth we may leave again without noticing the old K98ks you haven't stashed away in the back room.”

“How do you know he has them?” Kelso asked.

“He always has some, these things are incredibly sought after by some of your lot. Lord knows where he gets them from, but they are there.”

That was news to Kelso and he filed it away for later use elsewhere. For now however he watched as the door was opened by the reluctant owner who, considering that he lacked half a left leg might very well have been in The War judging by that and his age. As Wachmann pushed the owner back towards the cashier's table, Kelso looked around and could not help but marvel at the selection this store sold. While there were the usual things that one could expect in any given camping store anywhere in the Western World, but most of those didn't carry old German and Soviet Steel helmets, uniform parts and pretty much anything formerly in Wehrmacht use and not adorned with Nazi Insignia which was banned in modern Germany. He had difficulties following the conversation as the two men were speaking German, but what he did understand with his rusty college German made him smile.

“Now Wilhelm, we all know that you aren't just flogging tents and fake steel helmets to a few Tommies on leave, and if you want me to overlook it THIS time then you better tell me what I want to know. Remember, I'll know it when you are lying.”

The sheer existence of this was evidence of the biggest problem that Germany had.

Unlike after the First World War this time the 'stab in the back' legend had not been formed, the Allied Armies had seen to that, but a lot of the generation that had fought and lived through the end of the German involvement had not quite gotten over being defeated a second time. A lot of resentment was still within a lot of the veterans, and the destruction visited on a lot of German cities and towns hadn't been helping at all. What also was a big problem was that a lot among the older generation saw the Federal Republic as little more than a unwanted regime imposed by the victor that did not deserve their loyalty in any way, with nothing to band them together behind the Government.[3] Oh there wasn't much chance of there being a 4th Reich, no matter what some of the more loony people in the Allied nations feared, Bomber Command saw to that, but Kelso had read more than one report that indicated that there were fears that the Germans would either splinter into ten different squabbling statelets of various degrees of extremism or that the Federal Republic of Germany would become so unstable that even the constantly fracturing Kingdom of Yugoslavia during a local election was peaceful when compared.

The younger Generation on the other hand saw everything as a chance for a fresh start and denounced the generation of their fathers for both letting Hitler come to power in the first place, then not doing anything while he was and then for failing to deal with the war, the German/Soviet crimes and the defeat 'in a proper way', that far too many of the old guard had slipped through the net when the Allied Occupation authorities had laboriously sifted through all those that had been used to rebuild the German institutions and administration from the ground up. Still, far too many former Nazis, both committed ones and fellow travellers were now in positions of power again and whenever one of those cases entered the headlines then the conflict that was simmering under the surface of German society became that much hotter. Sooner or later the Germans would have to face up to this and when that time came things would get interesting to say the least.[4]

Wachmann meanwhile pushed the shuddering Wilhelm behind the counter and pushed the bit and pieces strewn about on it to the side.

“Now, question Number One: Since you still owe me for that time with the fake Reichsmark plates you will tell me if you have ever seen this particular dagger.”

He slammed the photographs of the dagger on the table and watched as Wilhelm looked at them closely.

“Yes, I've seen that one. Went through the shop some, oh..maybe two months ago?” he said, “genuine ones are so rare by now that I remember each I get so see. Shame it was in that condition though...”

Wachmann nodded and replied: “Good. Now to question Number Two. You don't happen to know who bought it, do you?”

Here Wilhelm became started stuttering and it was clear to both Wachmann and Kelso that he was clearly scared. If it was because he was scared of whoever had bought the dagger or because he had done something that would land him in the nick again didn't matter, what did matter was that the two policemen from opposing ends of the world knew that they would get what they had come for.

“I...c...can't tell you...” Wilhelm tried to say. Wachmann just snorted.

“And why is that?” he asked with his voice dripping with sarcasm. “When we had those Red Brigadists last year who tried to get you to sell them the crate with old Stugs[5] you 'happened to find'...” he went on, airquotes included, “then you were pretty quick with calling us.”

Wilhelm looked away and Kelso saw that Wachmann had a evil smile on his face that reminded him of the one that Field Marshal Mannerheim had worn in an ABC Documentary about Finland during The War[6] Kelso had seen a few years back.

“So this is different then?” Wachmann said, and slammed down his fists on the table hard enough to make everything rattle.

“Listen to me and listen well you f*cking piece of scum. You tell me now or I break down the door to the back room after all.”

Wilhelm winced and wormed for a few more seconds before looking Wachmann in the eye and breaking down.

“You win... his name is....


~*~---~*~

Unloading of the lorries proceeded with more speed than the clandestine and highly illegal nature of the freight and the location would make any onlooker think. The crates were not marked with anything beyond where the upper side was and a (fake) shipping code that told anyone with the ability to read them that they were coming from Italy instead of their real origin. The men supervising the unloading however were at least in part in the right place as the group consisted of both the local branch of the Brotherhood and their benefactors. Both hated each other with a passion, but 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' was a strong motivator for both to keep their side of the bargain.

“How can we be sure that we aren't observed?”

The Priest detested his guest, but he was the best source for the merchandise that was being unloaded now.

“Mr. van Wyk” the Priest said, knowing that it was not the real name of the person he was dealing with, “as you know we have loyal guards surrounding his warehouse and we have reinforcements within minutes away. Never mind that the Chief of Police in this town is loyal to me. We will have no trouble.”


Van Wyk hated being in this country, but his masters wanted to hurt and confuse the British for their own ends and for that reason alone everything he did and had to do furthered the cause even if that meant dealing with persons that back at home would at best be shovelling grit. However the one thing the Republic of South Africa hated more than the inferior races was the British Empire that had strong armed them out of Namibia after the war when the Republic had weaned itself off the traitors to the white race that ruled London these days. The irony was that now, almost six years later the South African Army would have been just as unable to stop them but the changed British leadership might not have pursued the matter as far.[7]


The assistance that the South-African Intelligence Service was providing to the Brotherhood wasn't only clandestine because of the illegality of circumventing a League-mandated Embargo but also because it was politically unacceptable to be seen having contacts with this sort of people. Still, surplus Brens that the Army was replacing with a home-grown copy of the FN Mag that had been looked into before the embargo were not missed and could theoretically come from anywhere as they were about as common as the fleas on the heads of the brown locals in this hole of a country, Walker mused.

What was good was that in return the Republic would be getting a sore for the British, rising oil prices in general when at the same time South Africa could cover close to 80% of it's energy needs with local coal and gas sources, the rest coming from the world market, since oil was not embargoed yet.

“Mr. van Wyk, you must remember that this presents a considerable investment for our group.”

The warning was merely an undercurrent but van Wyk still understood, and for that reason he had made sure that the weapons delivered were actually in working order. He valued his life and would like to get out of the country in one piece as soon as this deal was done.

“I am well aware of that, which is why I personally inspected the good before they were packed for shipping.” With that he grabbed a nearby crowbar and prised open one of the boxes. Inside several Brens were wrapped in oiled paper, but it did not take him longer than a few seconds to unwrap it and check the receiver and everything. The belts[8] were in a different box, but the 'clack' of the mechanics clearly showed that the gun was in working order.

The Priest nodded in approval. He knew next to nothing about guns, but he knew that this was how an unloaded gun had to sound like and thus he was satisfied.

“Very well. Let us discuss payment then, shall we?”

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Comments, questions, rotten Tomatoes?


[1] IOTL one of a whooping two Parties ever to be banned as unconstitutional, the other being the Communist Party. Saw themselves as an NSDAP successor organization.

[2] OTL Auto Union was a merger of several companies that evolved into Audi after the war. At first their old company grounds were slated to the Soviet Zone and later produced the Trabant, while the brand name, after being owned by Mercedes for a while eventually came to be owned by VW and turned itself into Audi AG in 1985. Here the company re-established itself in it's old halls and is, so far, still independent even though several of the old core brands have been discontinued or merged into others. So the Zwickau works will not produce plastic two-stroke rotboxes that are stuck in the 50s, but rather proper saloon cars, vans, lorries and what not.

[3] A service that IOTL was helpfully supplied by the Evil Red Hordes(tm).

[4] Mind you, the TTL equivalent of the 1968 Student revolts will be very very different...

[5] Here meant as a shorthand for the StG 44 equivalent, not a Sturmgeschütz.

[6] More on that in the main narrative soon.

[7] This is of course the Characters views on things, not my own. I am somewhat reluctant to reveal everything just yet as I might write a short story set in the time period at some point, but the gist of it is that a crisis over Namibia led to a British-South African standoff and the South-Africans blinked first. See it as TTLs Suez crisis as clearly the Egyptians wouldn't be bonkers enough to try something even if they wanted to.

[8] TTL's Bren is belt-fed, the magazine versions we know and love where phased out by 1940. It fires the same .280 round the rest of British small arms use.

NOW5

Chapter Five

He throttled the engine back and eased the Swift into position behind the Britannia that carried the German Minister of Defence. The Germans were certainly putting up a show for the Minister who was coming from Kiel where he had been officially welcoming the British Dreadnought Prince of Wales[1] and marvelled at how easy it would be to fire the two live Red Streaks he carried, the four turbo-propeller engines of the Britannia gave off enough heat to guide a Division of missiles in. In spite of it all though it was merely idle curiosity of a professional Fighter Pilot who saw everything other than his own plane as a potential target.

Charette was feeling some guilt over what he had said some days ago in the O-Club, but he still felt no remorse over his feelings. Admittedly these Germans weren't goose stepping with their right arm in the air or filling cattle cars with the innocent, but he felt as if in each and every one of them the beast was lurking just below the surface. Then again, if that were to happen the Brits had the V-Force for that eventuality.

Cold correctness and professionalism would sum up his relationship with the Germans in I/JG 74 perfectly, but this was only a posting like any other. The sweeping form of the Britannia began it's descent towards landing, while the display flight so hastily formed yesterday went into a holding pattern and prepared for the flyby sheduled later on.

dH. 485 of the Flugbereitschaft des Bundesministeriums für Verteidigung[2], wearing the same livery as the Britannia.

The Commodore personally commanded the honour guard and as the Britannia slowed down to near where they were waiting he gave the signal to the band even though the first few bars of the Preussischer Präsentiermarsch[3] were swallowed up by the spinning down noises of the Rolls-Royce Turbo-propeller engines. German Minister of Defence, Kai-Uwe von Hassel stepped out the door and walked down the steps, followed by the usual retinue of aides, officials and reporters.

Marseille and von Hassel exchanged the friendly words and shook hands for the photographers and as the last bars of the music faded away everyone looked up as the sound of jet engines was heard from the south. Along the runway everyone looked up, as a display like this did not happen every day. In a tight version of the classic finger-four formation, a sight that no one had seen German aircraft perform since the end of the war.

~*~---~*~

“You see then Oberst that the British aren't exactly falling over themselves to help us with this, but that's hardly to be expected. Our Embassy there tells us that German rearmament is still a rather controversial issue over there.”

Marseille snorted. “That's not surprising at all, Minister.”

The Minister looked up and saw that the private Quarters of the Commodore were much more personalized than his Office and saw that Marseille had collected the first ten Novels of that series about this British Secret Agent that a lot of people were raving on about and had even made a film[4] about. The first three novels were set in the waning days of the war, and that was a rather soft portrayal of lingering resentment towards Germany and Russia in Britain. But the controversy that things like 'Rivers of Blood', a controversial Novel calling for the dissolution of Germany into six separate states created was something that poisoned the relations between London and Frankfurt almost since the inception of this young Republic.

“So, what is the status of the entire Wing, Commodore?”

“According to our Canadian guest we'll need some, quote: 'Realistic Combat training'.” Marseille replied, leaving out the bit where Charette had implied that it was the Germans own damn fault that the Allied Air Combat School was closed to them, something that had luckily been said behind closed doors. “Thing is, unless the Poles do a complete about face we won't get that here. This country is too damn crowded for a proper air combat school. Minister, I believe he is right, but arranging something would be well above my pay-grade.”

“That is actually why I am here.” von Hassel said. “I've been coming here directly from London where the Foreign Minister and I have negotiated yet another trade agreement.”

Which probably meant that it was in reality an armaments deal of some sort was what Marseille thought.

“Harold Wilson might be naïve when it comes to American intentions and might not have many friends within the Armed Forces, but at least he was willing to do a deal with us. You see....” And with that the two men talked shop.

When they were done, Marseille leaned back and said: “I must say Minister that this isn't what I would have expected. I mean I can see why they wouldn't like to have us bombing Sailsbury Plain, but the British Sudan is a bit far away, if I may say so, Sir.”

“That's true, but the British are training a lot of their African Imperial Squadrons there and it does have the facilities to accommodate all our aircraft.”

Marseille nodded. “Fair enough. But how do we get them there? We don't have any tankers, and the Pal refuelling drones won't cut it, even if the Austrians and Italians give us permission to fly over. Without Tankers all the training won't help us.”

Von Hassel grimaced. The war was long since over, the 'Rape of Milan' was long since gone, but it was an election year and whenever that happened the sitting Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Italy dragged out the Rape of Milan. Admittedly one of the darker periods in a period full of War Crimes it became tedious when every two-three years or when the Italians played Germany on the Football field the Yellow Press dragged it all out again. This close to the elections getting any form of good will out of Rome would be difficult.

“I am flying to Rome next.” he said, taking the coffee that was offered by an orderly. As he inserted two cubes of sugar and began to stir he went on: “The Swiss are strangely accommodating, they are letting me fly over without a hassle. Seems those Sovereignty and Friendship treaties we signed in '59 seem to be worth their price.”

“That still doesn't solve the tanker problem, Minister.”

“I was getting to that, Colonel.” von Hassel said, somewhat annoyed that he had been interrupted like this. “The British are sending a Wing of their new Lightnings over the day before, and we can use their Tankers based out of an that Island of theirs..Malta I think it is called.”

“Hrm. I wish we had our own, but that's politics for you. The Poles would scream bloody murder, the French would probably glass Frankfurt if we had anything that could put planes over Paris for any length of time. Totally ignoring that they have probably the best and densest Air Defence system on the continent.”

“I know what you mean, Colonel. Still, this is an important political opportunity for us, both at home and abroad.”

“Yes, Minister.” Marseille drawled and wondered why he suddenly had an urge to laugh uncontrollably.

Kai-Uwe von Hassel, first post-war German Minister of Defence.

~*~---~*~

“That man is so infuriating!” came the yells down the hallowed halls of the Peacetime Imperial General Staff Headquarters, and Field Marshal[5] Sir Richard Hull was very tempted to take the Prime Minister and lock him in an Office in the new Wartime Headquarters that was constructed under a mountain in Wales. As a veteran of the Battle of Nuremberg and the Battle of Brandenburg and countless other engagements in the war he saw the merit in trying to avoid a war when the Continent and the Empire had barely recovered from the last one, but signing away one's superiority at sea like this was infuriating even for a man who saw himself as a Cavalry Officer and thoroughly disliked the sea.

Coming out of a meeting where Prime Minister Harold Wilson had announced that the Government would cut various naval projects and freeze the expansion of the V-Force 'until further notice' which was frankly madness when one considered that the Americans were looking to withdraw from China completely and and subsequently were likely to retire their ageing B-47/51s that were stationed in the area around Beijing in favour of more B-52s flying out of various Pacific Islands and of course the continental Union. Admittedly cutting the third and fourth Illustrious Class Nuclear Carriers had been the right decision a few years back and Hull did support it then, but a moratorium on Carrier construction because 'the old ones still do.' was madness. The clapped out war variety Carriers that were the oldest were long since gone, and even though as an Army Officer he would have gladly traded the Lion Class Dreadnoughts for an additional Armoured Division he knew that every Tank in the world wasn't worth anything if the Navy couldn't keep the sea lanes open (one of the reasons why Hull had supported German Rearmament, if they raised a Navy they would surely contribute to Allied Fleets Atlantic). However the suggestion to wind down the RN China Station on Formosa and discontinue open and clandestine support for the Republic of China based out of Guangzhou, their Capital city 'lest the British presence there destabilized the region even more and lead to conflict with the PRC' was complete bollocks, something that the PM could or would not understand. The RoC was the only stable Government China had since the Japanese-dependent Chinese puppet Government had collapsed into warring factions shortly before being crushed by the American Army that had spent the last fifteen years trying to pacify the vast interior. All the while the Republic of China, backed up by British surplus weapons an an deep set hatred towards the Communists whose betrayal many saw as one of the primary reasons for the defeat of the old Republic was if not a model democracy then at least stable and it's People free and relatively prosperous.

But no, since the Americans were seemingly withdrawing from the Region, the Empire had to follow suit, never mind that the Americans, unlike the British Empire did not have territory nearby that needed to be defended properly.

In his Office the Field Marshal decided not to drown his sorrows in the Whisky that he had been given as a token of appreciation by Anthony Eden who had been PM when Hull had taken over the post. Instead he picked up the phone and called the Admiralty. They had work to do, because if the Germans were to be re-fuelled from RAF tankers they would need to use the Naval Air Station on Malta.

“Sam, I need your help. Our Lord and Master has decided that we need to refuel some Gerrie Aircraft that go to our Airschool in the Sudan.”

“So I believe you want to use the RAF Tankers on the NAS at Malta, correct?”

“That we do, Sam.” Hull replied, and smiled. The First Sea Lord had been present at almost every engagement that the fleet had fought during The War, he had been at Java, he had been the Captain of the lead ship in the Navy's triumphant and celebrated return to Singapore when the siege had been broken, he had been present when Force Z had supported the Allied Amphibious attacks on the Great March northwards and he had been the Royal Navy's representative when the shattered remnants of Japan, ground down by years of war, hunger and incredibly bloody fighting against American Marines in the Japanese Home Islands, surrendered to the victorious Allied Powers. The devastation of Japan had humbled the man, who had commanded the British Japan Squadron for a time before returning to India and later the United Kingdom itself.

“Well then, when you can keep yourself from killing a mutual...acquaintance of ours for an hour I'll come and meet you at Aldershot this afternoon. I'll have to meet my Irish Counterpart anyway, now that the Paddies have bought the two Type 12M we had left over from the latest cuts.” the First Sea Lord replied. The antagonism both men felt for the Prime Minister was an open secret within the Army and the Navy, as both services had suffered greatly, albeit in different ways.

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Comments, questions, rotten tomatoes?

[1] Yes, that Prince of Wales. The battle of Singapore was..different (keeping this close to my chest for now until the allied plans are revealed to you soon.

[2] The A-310s of the Ready Squadron of the Federal Ministry of Defence were ironically originally bought by the East-German flag carrier two years before the whole shebang came crashing down on them and ended up in federal hands, flying our evil fascist-Capitalist warmongering ministers and Chancellors around the world.

[3] Loosely: Prussian Parade March. For the interested, here is a [URL=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rGHCsEswMJk]recording.[/URL]

[4] TTL Casino Royale is the first novel to be filmed, and is actually rather close to the book, as all the films will be. TTL Ian Fleming will never have a heart attack and will die at a ripe old age which I will not reveal yet. Being more active and being, shall we say, satisfied with his family life, unlike OTL, he has a lot more influence over how the films are made. The Novels are different ITTL too, for example as stated the first few are set in the last days of the war, Felix Leiter is actually former Special Branch and has been recruited to the SIS by Bond against M's wishes, also having a real-life counterpart who is best friends with Fleming, in fact he is even his Brother in Law. They worked together during the war and when Leiter was believed dead for a few months Fleming was, after a spell at sea duty, on Jamaica for a time and there started writing Casino Royale and had the first quarter done when Leiter appeared again. Basically this means that the Novels are a bit more like the Films who are in turn more like the novels. (Looking at you Moonraker with a gigantic space station and Laser weapons.) Meaning we still get the best bits of both, the much more realistic Bond Character of the Novels and the awesomeness of things like the Island from “Man with the Golden Gun.” ITTL Fleming is quoted as having said that 'Over the top or not, it makes a good Thriller, so I do it.” [/fanboy]

[5] In peacetime this rank and it's equivalents in the other services are reserved for the CIGS, a post nominally not fixed to any particular service though it will be some years before one of the other services gets the job. In wartime the CIGS is elevated to 'Marshal/Grand Admiral of the Empire, whilst theatre commanders get bumped to Field Marshal.