Chosen of the Valkyries (Twilight Of The Gods Book 2) (7 page)

The two Frenchmen exchanged glances, but neither of them looked particularly surprised by her response.  Only the Americans or the British could have moved forces into France - and they had to realise that the
Reich
would not tolerate such a move.  France would become the first battleground of the final war.

“Understood,” Ouvrard said.  “Second, we demand the return of our stolen territories.”

Gudrun reminded herself, savagely, to keep her face impassive.  Alsace-Lorraine was historically
German
, she’d been taught in school, even though it had changed hands several times in the last century.  Every German schoolchild was told about French atrocities against the Germanic population ... atrocities that were far outmatched by the horrors the SS had committed against almost everyone, even the Germans themselves.  She could not simply abandon German territory to the French ...

... And if she did, she knew Volker Schulze would renounce it as soon as she returned home.

Because the SS will turn it into a propaganda ploy
, she thought, numbly. 
They’ll tell the Volk that the government is planning to surrender German territory ... and they will be right
.

It wasn't just Alsace-Lorraine either, she knew.  There was a swath of French territory - the entire western coastline - that had been annexed by the
Reich
.  It was now dominated by hundreds of military bases and fortifications, preparations to meet an Anglo-American invasion that had never come.  Much of the native population had been moved out too, when they hadn’t been quietly ‘encouraged’ to leave, and replaced by Germans.  The French settlers in French North Africa had been uprooted from their homes and bitterly resented it, but they couldn't return.  There was no way she could make
any
territorial concessions.

“Let me be blunt,” she said.  “Occupied France - and Alsace-Lorraine - have been thoroughly Germanized.  The people living there are
Germans
.  Forcing them to move will only spark off another major confrontation at the worst possible time.”

She scowled, inwardly.  The vast majority of the troops in Occupied France, certainly the reservists, had homes and families there.  They would not be keen to force their own people to leave, nor would they sit there quietly while outsiders did the dirty work.  And the SS would be
delighted
to offer support to any insurrection.  A major crisis in the rear would be at least as bad - perhaps worse - as going to war with France. 

And the loyalty of our own military could not be taken for granted
, she thought, grimly. 
Our entire government could disintegrate, allowing the SS to come back and take over
.

“Those territories are
ours
,” Ouvrard insisted.  “They cannot be surrendered!”

“You
did
surrender them,” Horst said, amused.

Gudrun gave him a sharp look as Ouvrard purpled.  Horst was no more a diplomat than
she
was.  The SS had never been about diplomacy.  It rarely even
bothered
trying to be polite.

“That was when we lay prostrate before you,” Ouvrard said.  “Now ... you
need
us.”

Horst leaned forward.  “There’s such a thing as overplaying your hand,” he said.  “I concede that we need your help, but we don’t need it so badly that we’re ready to deal with the consequences of giving you what you want.  If you push this too far, you may wind up with the SS on the border
instead
of us.”

Jacquinot smiled.  “So you’re saying we should quit while we’re ahead?”

“Yes,” Horst said.  “You can get some concessions from us now - and we will honour them - but you can't get
everything
.”

“True,” Jacquinot said.  “
Fraulein
, with your permission, we will write up the terms of the agreement and make them public, once they are signed.  Our public needs to know that we are making progress.”

Gudrun nodded.  The French economy had been hit by multiple strikes, but - unlike in the
Reich
- the strikers hadn't gained any real concessions.  They were growing tired of waiting for change, she’d been told.  It wouldn't be long before Jacquinot and Ouvrard found themselves on opposing sides, if they failed to put the brakes on now.  A civil war in France
might
keep the French from causing trouble, but it would definitely interfere with the shipment of supplies to the
Reich
.

“That would be acceptable,” she said.

“There is one other condition,” Ouvrard said, softly.  “We want the conscripted labourers returned from the
Reich
.”

Gudrun wasn't entirely sure if that was a good idea or not - for France.  Hans Krueger had pointed out that hundreds of thousands of Frenchmen were in Germany, Frenchmen who would have problems finding employment when they got home.  Dumping so many workers onto the French economy would probably cause all sorts of headaches for the French Government, which might be why Ouvrard wanted it.  But it wasn't as if anyone in Germany wanted to
keep
the
Gastarbeiters
.

“They will be returned home,” she said, bluntly.  She had no idea what would be done - if anything
could
be done - about the
Gastarbeiters
from Germany East, but that wasn't her problem.  “Do you have any other demands?”

Ouvrard smiled.  “Not at all,
Fraulein
.”

“We thank you for coming,
Fraulein
,” Jacquinot said.  “And we will have the terms of the provisional agreement written up now.”

“Of course,” Gudrun said.

She watched the two Frenchmen leave, then sat back and waited - doing her best to keep her face impassive - until Jacquinot returned with the provisional agreement.  It was nothing more than a list of points, but it covered everything they’d discussed.  She signed both copies, then passed one back to Jacquinot.  The provisional government would have to hold a formal signing ceremony later, once the agreement was approved. 

And there’s no reason why they won’t approve it,
she thought. 
It gives us what we want
.

As soon as both copies were signed, she rose and followed the escort out of the room, back to the car.  Horst walked beside her, looking pensive.  He hadn't liked the idea of negotiating with the French at all, Gudrun knew, even though he’d seen no alternative.  But then, as far as everyone was concerned, he was nothing more than her bodyguard.  His objections had been strictly private.

“Well,” Horst said, as the car passed through the gates and back onto the road leading to the private airfield.  “That could have gone worse, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Gudrun said. 

She wanted to hug him - they’d been lovers ever since the
Reich
Council had fallen - but she didn't know if she could trust the driver.  He might well be keeping an eye on her for his superiors.  God alone knew what having a premarital affair would do to her reputation, now everything was up in the air.  Once, it would have been harmless, as long as she’d intended to get married.  Now ...

“They didn't offer us troops,” Horst added.  “Did you notice?”

“We were going to refuse, if they offered,” Gudrun reminded him.  “I don’t know how well they’d fight, but the SS would turn them into a propaganda weapon.”

“True,” Horst said.  “But they didn't even make the offer, when they know as well as we do that an SS victory means their destruction.  I find that rather odd.”

He leaned back into his seat, staring out at the French countryside.  “We’ll get the latest reports when we return to Berlin,” he added.  “And we’ll see what the council has to say about it.”

Chapter Six

Near Warsaw, Germany Prime

2 September 1985

The town wasn't much,
Leutnant
Kurt Wieland thought, as they drove into the town square and parked the lorries under a giant statue of a soldier he didn't recognise.  A few dozen homes, a handful of shops, set a couple of miles from the
autobahn
... it was the kind of place his parents had talked about going to live when they retired and their children had flown the nest. 
He
suspected that he would have found it rather boring, if he’d had to live there, but he was still in his twenties.  His parents might have a different attitude.

He jumped down to the ground and barked orders to the soldiers, who scrambled out of the lorries and hurried to take up position near the Town Hall.  The entire town was due to be evacuated and turned into a strongpoint, hopefully one that would slow up the SS for a few hours before they continued advancing towards Berlin.  Kurt had no illusions about just how weak the defence line actually was, even though his actual experience of combat was practically non-existent.  Between the resignations, the deaths and a number of desertions, the forces facing the SS were badly disorganised.  It would take longer than they had, he feared, to get the army into proper shape. 

“The population should have left already,”
Oberfeldwebel
Helmut Loeb commented.  “But some of them won’t have left.”

Kurt nodded.  The young men and military veterans would have already been called up, although it was anyone’s guess just how many of them would bother to report to the training camps.  They’d signed up to fight the enemies of the
Reich
, not their fellow Germans.  Quite a few veterans had already been caught trying to slip across the border to the east, or merely hiding in the countryside and hoping not to be found.  They found it impossible, they’d claimed when they were caught, to choose a side. 

And I would find it difficult too, if I hadn't been in Berlin
, Kurt thought, as the town was rapidly searched and a handful of stragglers pushed into the square. 
I saw the SS mowing down innocent Germans as if they were Slavs
.

He glanced down at his hands, wondering if he should feel guilty.  He’d broken his oaths when he’d opened fire on the SS, triggering off the Battle of Berlin.  It wasn't something he
should
feel guilty for, he told himself, but he knew he’d feel responsible for everyone who died in the coming war.  There could be no doubting it would come, either.  Everyone knew the SS was moving troops up to the borderline and preparing their offensive.  It was only a matter of time before the shit hit the fan.

“This is an outrage,” a loud female voice declaimed.  “We
paid
for our house!”

Kurt tried hard to suppress a flicker of tired - and utterly inappropriate - amusement.  The speaker was an older woman, easily twenty years older than his mother if she was a day, standing next to a skinny older man who looked thoroughly henpecked.  Kurt wouldn't have cared to try to impose his will on
that
woman, no matter what the law said about German womenfolk obeying their husbands.  She was swinging her fists around like a navvy as she argued with the soldiers.  Kurt wouldn't have been surprised to hear she’d been a boxer in her youth, even though women were technically forbidden to take part in blood sports.

Which would have merely driven them underground
, he thought, as he strolled over to rescue his men.  His first trip outside the wire, during basic training, had been an eye-opener in more ways than one.  There were all sorts of forbidden pleasures available in the
Reich
, if one knew where to look. 
And now ... who knows what will happen
?

“
Gute Frau
,” he said, dismissing his men with a nod.  “This town is about to become a battleground.”

The woman glared at him.  “We have lived here for thirty years and ...”

“And it is no longer safe,” Kurt snapped.  The nasty part of him was tempted to leave the woman for the SS, but her mouth would probably get her and her husband shot down.  If the rumours from the front lines were true, the SS was purging Germany East of anyone whose political loyalties were even slightly suspect.  “The SS is coming!”

“The SS?”  The woman repeated.  “Why would they come here?”

Kurt swallowed his first angry reaction.  It had been nearly two weeks since the Battle of Berlin.  The news had been on the radio ... although, he had to admit, he had a habit of not believing what the radio said either.  But surely she must have heard rumours of the change in government, if nothing else.  He doubted she was the kind of woman who disdained rumours and gossip as beneath her. 

“A civil war is about to begin,” he said, instead.  “You and your husband will be shipped to a refugee camp to the west, where you will be held until the war is over.  At that point, you will be allowed to return home.”

If your home is still there
, he added, silently. 
When they hit this town, they’ll advance with all the force they can muster
. 

He kept his face impassive.  He’d seen footage of the SS pacification troops in action, burning down entire Russian towns and villages in response to a handful of shots aimed at them from a distance.  There was no way to know - even - if they were getting the
right
village, but the SS didn't care.  Spreading terror was more important to them than capturing or killing specific individuals.  And yet, their terror tactics hadn't put an end to the South African War.  It had only burned brighter than ever.

The woman’s expression tightened.  “And if we choose not to go?”

“Then you will also be shipped west, but not to a refugee camp,” Kurt said, allowing his voice to harden.  Too many people were already in the detention camps, simply because they couldn't be trusted ... he had no desire to add two more.  “We do not have time to debate the issue.  Pack yourselves a bag and prepare for the journey.”

He glanced at the woman’s husband, wondering if he could be relied upon to say something to his wife.  But it didn't look like it.  Kurt couldn't understand how any self-respecting husband could allow themselves to be so dominated in public - he couldn't imagine his father allowing his mother such freedom - but it wasn't his problem.  All that mattered was getting them out of the town so it could be turned into a strongpoint.

The woman turned and marched back towards her home, muttering angrily to herself.  Her husband shot Kurt an apologetic look, then followed; Kurt watched them go, shaking his head at their antics.  But as long as they were happy, he supposed it was none of his business what they did in private.  Turning to the other refugees, he was relieved to discover that none of them looked willing to question him.  Most of them were older men and women, the former too old for military service, but there were a handful of younger girls and children amongst them.  The town’s teenage boys would already have been conscripted.

“A few of those girls are quite pretty,
Herr Leutnant
,
” Loeb muttered warningly, as they wanted towards the edge of the town.   “Better keep an eye on the men.”

“Do so,” Kurt ordered.  Loeb was right.  Two of the girls were pretty enough to turn heads anywhere, he had to admit, which could cause problems until they were shipped west to a foster family.    The remainder might not be so pretty, but soldiers who hadn't had leave for far too long developed new standards of beauty.  “We don’t want any incidents.”

He surveyed the edge of the town, peering into the distance towards Germany East.  It was ideal panzer country; rolling fields, very little in the way of natural obstacles and a reasonably well-maintained road heading east.  There were a handful of hedges and ditches, but he doubted they would cause any problems to a modern tank.  A Panther would crush the hedges beneath its treads and roll over the ditches as if they weren't there.  Hell, they could just charge into the town and keep going.  It was unlikely any of the buildings were tough enough to stop a tank.

“We’ll need to be ready to fall back,” he said.  A fluid defence was their only hope, according to Field Marshal Voss.  He hadn't bothered to ask Kurt’s opinion, naturally, but Kurt couldn't disagree with his ultimate superior.  “Get off a couple of shots, then fall back before they get the range and start pounding us.”

“I’ll have antitank missiles placed in the nearest houses,” Loeb stated.  He paused.  “And we’ll mine the fields leading up to the town.  It should give them a few nasty moments.”

“One would hope so,” Kurt agreed.

He had his doubts.  The insurgents who menaced Germany East couldn't stand up to the SS in pitched battles, if they were foolish enough to try.  Instead, they fought from the shadows; they sniped at isolated Germans, hurled the occasional mortar shell into German settlements and mined roads the Germans needed to move supplies from place to place.  None of their attacks were particularly significant, individually, but collectively they represented a major drain on Germany’s manpower.  And God help any German soldier unlucky enough to be captured by the insurgents.  Kurt had heard enough horror stories to know that
he
never wanted to go there.

And the SS knows precisely how to deal with minefields
, he thought, darkly. 
The only real question is just how far they’re prepared to go to intimidate good Germans
.

It was a bitter thought.  He’d been raised to believe that the SS existed to
protect
Germans - and indeed, many of the SS Stormtroopers he’d met had been good guys.  Konrad had certainly been a
very
good guy, even though - as Gudrun’s boyfriend - Kurt had been obliged to detest him on sight.  He certainly hadn't deserved his fate, let alone being abandoned by his own superiors and left to rot.  But his superiors?  How far were they prepared to go to keep their power?  They’d already slaughtered countless
Untermenschen
, he knew, but were they prepared to slaughter vast numbers of
Germans
?

Probably
, he thought, as they worked their way through the town. 
They think that we’re traitors
.

“Just gives us reason to fight,” he muttered.

Loeb glanced at him.  “
Herr Leutnant?
”

“It doesn't matter,” Kurt said.  He heard the buses entering the town and allowed himself a moment of relief.  “Let’s go.”

He sucked in his breath as he walked back to the square and saw the older woman - the same older woman - arguing with one of the drivers.  She had four large bags beside her, the smallest easily five times as large as the knapsack Kurt had been issued when he’d reported for basic training.  He found it hard to understand how she’d packed them so quickly, let alone carried them to the square.  Her husband didn't look strong enough to have carried them for her ...

“I need all of these clothes,” the woman was saying.  “I need ...”

“No, you don’t,” Kurt snapped. 
Gudrun
liked clothes, but she was much more practical than this silly cow.  “You need only the bare minimum.”

He allowed his temper to show as the woman rounded on him.  “I don’t have time to deal with this any longer,” he snarled, feeling his patience snap completely.  “Take one bag and leave the rest here!”

“I need them,” the woman repeated.  “I can't just leave them here!”

“Yes, you can,” Kurt said.  He made a show of unsnapping his holster and placing his hand on his pistol.  Her eyes widened with shock.  “Take one bag and get into the bus, now.  Or I’ll shut you up permanently.”

The woman glared at him for a long moment, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze.  She’d been told, of course, that the entire region was under martial law.  Kurt could shoot her down in front of a dozen witnesses and it was unlikely he’d get in any real trouble for it.  Those witnesses would argue that she had impeded the evacuation and defence preparations, if nothing else.  He braced himself, unsure what she’d do, then breathed a sigh of relief as she picked up one of her bags and marched onto the bus.  Either the bag was lighter than it seemed or she was stronger, he noted.  She didn't seem to need much effort to carry it.