NOW 11

Chapter Eleven

Charette stood almost dumbstruck and kept watching at the face of the probably most famous German Officer of The War.[1]

Everyone who had learned even the basics of military operations conducted in Europe knew this face and Charette was no different. He had to be in the early 70s by now, but he seemed at least ten years younger in spite of the lifestyle he'd led during The War and Charette, like most non-Germans had never seen the man out of Uniform, but it was unmistakably him.

Valued by opponents and fellow Officers alike as a 'young' General he had led the breakthrough through the Allied lines that had very nearly encircled the BEF in Belgium, he had been slated to command the German Forces send to aid the Italians in Lybia, an endeavour cut short by the swift Allied conquest of the Italian Colony. Axis Commander in Italy, removed from command when Hitler had become displeased with his performance, he had next frustrated the French attempts to cross the alps and liberate their country without British help. He had repeatedly frustrated British attempts to take Vienna, and the following histories of Army Group South and Army Group Centre had only added to the legend of a man whom contemporaries often found difficult to work with but who was adored by his men in spite of what he had demanded of him.

It was none other than former Field Marshal Erwin Johannes Eugen Rommel. The Mountain Fox in person.

He might not like the Germans at all, but he was in awe of the man now standing in front of him. He had grown up with his father's tales of the war in Europe and how Rommel had 'dance around' the Allied Flanks more than once during the Campaigns in Southern Germany, but this elderly man didn't look anything like the boogieman the old reports made him out to be.

For lack of anything to say Charette merely stared at Rommel and frantically tried to determine if the man was still due the respect shown to him when he had been in th Officers PoW camp in the United Kingdom for several years.

“I am terribly sorry, Sir,” Charette said after a few moments, “but I didn't see your car.”

“Not to worry, Mr....”

“Flight Lieutenant Charette, Royal Canadian Air Force.”

The old Field Marshal smiled in the way that Charette knew from the pictures and spoke again. Rommel knew that the young Canadian was trying to make sense of things, and he knew that his whereabouts after the War had been kept quiet.

Although it had never gone beyond the occasional nasty letters there were still more than a few living in the past who resented and hated him for what he'd done, but he was still proud of his decision.

“Again, I am sorry about that near crash, Sir.” Charette said. He had is faculties back under control and was now trying to get through this encounter without further embarrassing himself.

With a noticeable German accent Rommel replied: “No need for the formalities, I haven't worn that uniform for eighteen years now.”

“Forgive me, but in my country any Officer is to be addressed with the last rank he held, retired or not.”[2]

The look on the German's face was just like the one on the picture that had been taken when a young Major-General was standing atop a scout car on the northern coast of France.

The question boiling inside Charette was clearly evident on his face and Rommel braced himself.

“Sir, may I ask a question?”

“Ask away, Lieutenant.” Rommel said.

“Why did you do it? It served no purpose other than prolonging the campaign in Austria?”

Surprised that it was not quite the question he had expected, the German replied:

“Your father or Grandfather was there, wasn't he?”

“My Uncle, Sir. He was serving with the 7^th Armoured on the Staff.”

'Of course,' Rommel thought, 'by that time the Canadians were already in the rear.'

“Well,” he said aloud, “It had to be done. The Allies were on the verge of taking Vienna. If I hadn't attacked where and when I did they would have hoisted the Union Flag on the Hofburg within a week at most.”

Charette's eyebrows rose. Had it been that bad? At this point the son...Manfred was his name, Charette thought and remembered seeing a picture taken in 1946 when the Field Marshal had been reunited with his family in Swabia, a long way behind allied lines.

Anyway, the son was talking to his father now and pleasantries were exchanged before the family went on it's way, leaving a slightly confused Canadian behind to ponder this encounter.

~**---**~

The Ambassador of the UAPR to the Federal Republic of Germany, Joseph Raymond McCarthy[3] stood at the window in the American Embassy in Frankfurt. Like most diplomatic missions to Germany the Ameican Embassy here was unofficially provisional, but unlike, say, the British or the Russians not maintaining the old buildings in Berlin. The old US Embassy at the Bendlerstraße in Berlin was today an office block, and when the anticipated move of the German Capital to Berlin after the Occupation statutes lapsed happened America would have to start afresh.

He watched as the single policeman who guarded the American Embassy like his colleagues guarded the others in the city paced back and forth in front of the gate, occasionally looking up at where the crossed hammers were flying. McCarthy snorted and turned back from the window and turned towards the door of his Office where the Communications Officer was waiting.

“Comrade Ambassador, we have to act on this. If the Germans find out about this they will be furious.”

McCarthy snorted and shook his head. “The Germany will never act without consulting their puppet masters in London, and the Limeys don't care squat about our networks in Germany. This country isn't important enough in the grand scheme of things.”

It was true, Germany was seen as a starters and dead-end appointment in the Foreign Service and McCarthy was longing for the day when he was transferred out of here.

The Communications Officer wasn't so sure. The Ambassador tended to be extremely opinionated and his hatred of the Capitalists in general and the British in particular was legendary and it surprised many that McCarthy had been given any Ambassadorial appointment, let alone one in one of Europe's biggest economies.

“Be that as it may, if the Germans get a hand on our man then they will get their hands on our codes and that is something we have to prevent at all costs.”

McCarthy nodded this time.

“True enough, Charley.” He was using the Officer's given name, so it was clear that he wasn't personally blaming the man who promptly relaxed in response.

“So, what is the plan your department has worked out?”

“We have to contact Washington and tell them about it. We are mostly a conduit here, and they have the final say.”

“Damn these pansies, but there isn't much we can do. Send the message.”

“Yes, Comrade.”

The man left and McCarthy resumed his watch and he saw that the Policeman was doing an about face.

It was bad enough to have a member of the American Merchant Navy be run over by a truck, but what was bad was that the truck had been painted in Allied Olive Green and worn the Y of German Military licence plates that made even civilian painted vehicles easily recognizable.

The Germans didn't know that the man was American yet, thanks to the comatose state the man was in, but the moment he woke up they would know that he was not only American but also someone who had entered the country under false pretences. As far as anyone knew he was a Canadian tourist and that was that.

McCarthy knew that Washington would go crazy when this was communicated to them and he didn't envy whoever was responsible. He didn't fear for himself. The UAPR never had a tradition for blaming the messenger, and even if it did, he could point to the list of approved visas communicated from Washington and that didn't include any references to an Army Colonel.

Right now he needed to prepare for the state dinner at the German Foreign Ministry, a neccesary chore, and he hoped that at least tonight he wouldn't be bothered with the crisis of the day any more.

Officially the UAPR mostly disregarded the British European Puppet nations and this policy had served them well considering that the closest threat to the Revolution was in Canada and not across the ocean, but sooner or later that policy would have to shift as the Irish had been the first non-Commonwealth nation to pledge[4] a Division to “Allied Forces Canada”, and it looked as if more were to follow soon. Not the Germans though, the official estimate here was that this new Army would never go beyond being a token force, politics would allow for no more and if it was pushed then the workers would refuse to serve. McCarthy wasn't so sure about the last part, but he was aware that it would take a lot for the German public to condone a mass deployment of German troops abroad.

+-+-+-+-

Comments, questions, rotten Tomatoes?

It's not the longest chapter out there, I know, but elaborating on Rommel more would have spoiled too much for the main narrative.

[1] The War isn't a typo, it's an unofficial, in-universe term describing World War Two.

[2] I couldn't find any definitive information on that on the net, but I know that in the UK any retired officer is allowed to carry this rank or at least use it for life and I am assuming that in the AAO-verse this extends to the Commonwealth militaries.

[3] I couldn't help myself. This version of McCarthy was in the most impressionable age during the run-up to the Civil War and fell prey to the Reds in the early 30s. He eventually joined the ranks of the Foreign Service and rose through the ranks there rather quickly. And send the bills for those irony-meters to my insurance if you want to.

[4] TTLs Troubles haven't happened yet and this deployment was sold to the Irish public with “look at the evil red hordes(tm)!”