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.