Chapter Sixteen: Altering History
Chapter Sixteen: Altering History
What would a sane German strategy for the second half of 1944 look like? Rule of life: whatever Hitler would have done, do the opposite of that.
Eryn returned to Ulm only just in time. She had scarcely a moment to register her surroundings before the driver was knocking on the inn door to summon her back to the conference with the German generals.
“Coming in a second,” Eryn called to the man. She blinked several times to remind herself that she was no longer in Valhalla, then walked to the waiting staff car.
Eryn stared out the window during the drive back to Rommel's home, lost in anxious thought. Being back here in Second World War Germany did much to sap the confidence she had felt while standing in the midst of the party that apparently constituted a significant chunk of the afterlife. The drive was over too soon for her taste, and Lewinsky greeted her as she exited the vehicle. He seemed agitated, but she could tell he was not in a mood to discuss his troubles with with her.
“Eryn, I hope you were able to collect your thoughts,” Lewinsky nodded grimly. “This is going rather badly, though in truth no worse than I'd feared. While you were out, I was able to meet briefly and privately with each of the generals.”
“Oh really?” Eryn asked, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me that was part of your plan.”
“It wasn’t. I improvised, as you did earlier. And I discovered that despite their united front, they are not of one mind regarding the future. Unfortunately, it is clear that they do agree on military control of the new government. And that I simply cannot agree to. The rest of this meeting will be short and very unpleasant, I'm afraid. And then we will have to consider how to minimize the damage during the long drive back to Berlin.”
He leaned close to her, and lowered his voice. “Eryn, if you have any more surprises to offer, any information you have been holding back… now is the time to tell me.”
“I do have something,” Eryn nodded. “I... can't really explain it, so you'll have to trust me. But what I have to say should surprise them a lot. And maybe that'll create the opening you need to finally get through to them. I’m not in a great mood about this whole meeting myself. If they want the government so badly, why didn’t they kill Hitler a long time ago?”
He examined her carefully, eyes darting across her face. “A good question,” he said. “Let us get this over with then, shall we? I must hope this surprise will be sufficient. But be prepared: now that the preliminary arguments have been made, they are certain to make a series of formal demands as soon as we begin again. Frankly, I don't think we have much time before Lady Rommel ends the discussion, and perhaps Rundstedt and the others are banking on precisely that.”
“The Field Marshal shouldn't have been allowed out of the hospital so soon,” Lewinsky said in a low voice as they walked back to the house, “given his injuries. I wonder what Galland will say, if he speaks at all? Note that we haven't heard from him, yet. Yet he represents the Air Force at this conference, and they may not take kindly to our having arrested their chief, Goering. Or, perhaps, they will thank us for ridding them of the drug-addled buffoon. Regardless, it would be odd for the flying service to completely subordinate itself to the army.”
Eryn nodded as he spoke, not really listening. Too much of her mind was caught up in a buzz of anxiety and anticipation. She wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else, yet there did not be anywhere else the cosmos would allow her to be.
They walked back to Rommel’s bedside, and Eryn saw the grave assembled officers waiting just as before. They gave the impression of having just terminated an intense discussion among themselves, with all but Rommel and the young pilot Galland adopting the same intentionally blank expression. She had half a mind to call them out on it, hating when people talked about her behind her back. But Eryn knew that couldn't end well.
The pugnacious one, Guderian, stepped forward, face taut and grim. Apparently he was the one delegated to make the military’s demands.
“Rather than descend into futile argument once more,” Guderian said curtly, “my colleagues and I have decided to simply state our formal demands. We see no reason not to terminate this meeting as quickly as possible and ship you back to Beck and his… ahem... interim government.”
“Our first requirement for not ordering our forces into Berlin is simple: as Hindenberg and Ludendorff were forced to take command of Germany in the last war, so we must do the same in this moment of mortal peril. While Beck and his government will remain largely free to handle domestic matters not directly related to arms production or military operations, von Rundstedt and myself will oversee the actual conduct of the war. The only chance Germany has is for her generals to stand side by side and lead our soldiers to victory… or death.”
“Unacceptable,” Lewinsky shook his head before Guderian could continue. Eryn saw irritation spread across the faces of the assembled officers, except Galland. He remained impassive, but his eyes slid over to carefully watch the other officers’ faces. Eryn realized there was indeed some tension there, though whether it was due to his age or branch she couldn’t yet say.
Guderian completely ignored Lewinsky. “Second,” he continued gruffly, “all armed branches, including the Waffen SS, will be placed at the disposal of Army High Command. Air Force and Navy assets will likewise be subordinated. Our greatest need is defending our home soil, so all efforts aside from putting soldiers on the front lines must be ruthlessly culled. All of German society must be mobilized and prepared for the bitter and final struggle ahead, for our enemies will not relent now.”
Galland turned his head now and fixed Guderian with a dark stare. In a flash, Eryn recalled that Galland was a fighter pilot, an ace several times over, who had been assigned to manage the desperate struggle to prevent the Allies from bombing Germany whenever and wherever they chose. Clearly, he didn’t at all appreciate the idea of being placed under army control.
“Finally,” Guderian continued, unaware of or perhaps simply disregarding Galland, the Beck government must take responsibility for negotiating a ceasefire on the western front under honorable terms. This is a necessary step towards focusing all our efforts on the struggle against the Soviets, and Beck must find a way to change Churchill or Roosevelt’s mind!”
Demands made, Guderian now fell silent. He stood staring at Lewinsky, mustache seeming to bristle, silently ordering the younger officer to comply. Eryn stood and waited, watching, knowing she had to intervene but time it just right. The seconds passed, and she steeled herself. Finally, Galland opened his mouth to say something, and before he could speak Eryn laughed.
This unexpected sound drew the attention of every man in the room. Even Rommel, who had until now been resting with his eyes closed, opened his eyes and fixed her with a strange stare. She returned it, looking directly into his eyes. It was eerie, given that she'd just been speaking with the Einherjar version of Rommel in Valhalla. But meeting his gaze, she realized that it was only he that she had to convince. And in that instant, Eryn felt as if she actually knew him.
“It is now clear to me,” Eryn smiled wryly though in truth she saw little humor in the situation, “that none of you truly understand that you have already lost this war. And rather decisively so. Gentlemen, get this through your thick skulls now: it is over. The only thing left is to decide how many people have to die before you see reason and make peace.”
She felt their indignation, sensed the many counter-arguments being formed in their minds. Instead of waiting for them to act, she launched her preemptive strike.
“The irony is,” Eryn made herself wink despite feeling incredibly awkward, “that you never had even a glimmer of a chance. Not in the long run. Don’t you get it yet? The Allies cracked Enigma years ago. You know, that brilliant machine you all assume leaves your communications perpetually secure? Surprise! It isn’t.”
“It’s true,” she nodded gravely to none of them in particular. “Every one of your operations, every attack you ever made, the Allies knew about in advance. And yes, the good folks at Bletchley Park even share some of their intelligence with the Soviets, too. Ever wonder why your enemies always seem one step ahead of you? All radio communications are intercepted and decoded in a matter of hours.”
“Your fight to hold the Allies to their beachhead in France is futile,” Eryn smiled mockingly, “because the Allies already know exactly where you have deployed your best forces and even what their orders are. As we speak, the Americans and British are preparing a truly massive bombardment of your divisions in France, which will allow the Americans to break through your lines west of Falaise and roll up your entire defensive position around Caen. You are about to lose thousands of irreplaceable soldiers and their equipment, too.”
“This is nonsense,” Guderian cut in, “there is no way this can be true! How could we have survived this long in the war if the Allies have defeated Enigma!”
By expressing his fear, Eryn knew she had him. So long as she didn’t mess things up.
“They don’t act on everything,” Eryn replied with a knowing smile. “That would give the secret away, now wouldn’t it? You had best believe my warning about the fighting in Normandy. The attack has already been ordered, the relevant units prepared, and your own forces are simply waiting to be obliterated. When your generals in the field do as they always have and launch a counterattack with elite reserves, the Allies will be waiting for them. A week from now, all your armies in the west will be utterly defeated, their remnants running back to Germany as quickly as they can retreat.”
Eryn saw their faces go white, and pressed her advantage. “Do you know why, Field Marshal Rommel, you were never able to win in Africa despite all your brilliant victories in the desert? Every time a supply convoy tried to get across the Mediterranean from Italy, the Allies were waiting. Same holds for the U-boat war in the Atlantic starting about a year ago. As deadly as a wolfpack can be to a convoy, every time one of its members radios home, the Allies know right where it is after a little triangulation. Even if they can't attack it, they simply divert their ships out of reach.”
Eryn was about to go on, but paused, seeing the effect of her attack wither her enemies before their eyes. It was like a shadow had passed over the generals, their eyes began to dart, then their horrified gazes turned towards each other. She witnessed the phenomenon of inscrutable unvoiced feelings transmitting between them as can only happen when a group of professionals sharing the same language and worldview finds that everything they thought they knew was, in fact, terribly mistaken.
Galland broke out in peals of laughter, startling everyone. The Army generals turned towards him and glared.
“Well,” Galland shook his head, mouth contorted in a wry grin. “That solves one debate! For years a few of us in the Air Force have argued that the Allies have uncanny insight into where we are weak or strong. We have tried to verify that Enigma was truly secure, even consulted the Navy to explore joint testing.”
“Of course, old Donitz assured us time and again that there is no connection between the U-boat war falling apart and our communications, only that the Allies have been steadily improving their anti-submarine warfare technology and techniques. But now it seems that our codes are, in fact, broken! We've been an open book to our enemies this entire war. Hah! One can only laugh at the magnitude of our blunder! We never stood a chance, despite all the victories of past years.”
Manstein and Rundstedt looked at one another, concern engraved on their aged faces, but remained silent. Eryn could feel Guderian's eyes on her, roving across her face as intently as a laser, seeking any hint that she might be lying. Finding none, he finally let out a growling kind of groan and shook his head.
“Yes, general, I know,” Eryn said sympathetically. “It isn’t great news. And before you start accusing me of treason for passing on this information, know that I don't have any choice. The people I work with, our forecasting capabilities are almost as good as having Enigma intelligence. We can look ahead in time and see that the path you generals would have the Beck government follow can lead only to your complete and total destruction.”
“You keep hoping that the Western Allies will end their advance before reaching Germany’s borders, letting you turn to focus on the Soviets, but this just isn’t going to happen. Everyone in a position of power knows now that Germany is beaten, the question is simply how long people die before they finally throw enough bodies at you to break down all resistance. And they will continue to fight, because they are convinced victory is inevitable. And, quite frankly, because Germany has committed atrocities that defy imagination. You started this war, but they are committed to finishing it, and no one can blame them for it.”
“But still,” Eryn took a deep breath, “surrendering straight up won’t save anyone for long. If Germany surrenders, the Nazis will start a bloody civil war that will soon turn into a direct fight between the Allies and Soviets waged on German soil. No one wants this, but my people have plotted an alternative path. You have one chance to keep Germany intact and force a negotiated peace to end the fighting in the near future: Pull back on both fronts. Disengage. Build a line you can actually hope to defend along the Meuse and Vistula rivers, then wait them out.”
“While their bombers blast us into pieces?” Manstein asked, fixing Eryn with a skeptical stare. “If they advance to our frontiers without paying a steep price in blood, they will make preparations and then launch an all-out invasion of German soil.”
“You’ll be preserving as much of your experienced manpower as you possibly can,” Eryn replied, blessing for the first time in her life her endlessly arguing uncles. “You start saving Germany by saving your own soldiers for fights that might actually matter. Pull back now, and you will wrong-foot the coming offensive in the West, while giving yourselves a fighting chance to hold the line of the Vistula in the east against the Red Army, which will otherwise roll right across it.”
Rundstedt fixed Eryn with a cold glare, and she wondered if he had made a habit of practicing the look in the mirror. It certainly took full advantage of the scar to add menace to his aristocratic visage.
“A very interesting story,” he said calmly. “Very interesting, indeed. Either someone has coached you exceptionally well, or you are the most compelling liar I have ever met. Such a breach of security as Enigma failing certainly explains a few matters. And as to your proposed plan, if I may be frank, it is one that has been suggested by the General Staff before to supreme command, with no avail.”
“The Meuse and Vistula would certainly represent superior defensive positions to those we occupy now, overextended as we are in both the west and east thanks to that madman corporal’s insistence on defending everywhere at once. But essential problems with this plan remain. We risk any withdrawal turning into a disorderly rout, and once the Allies break out of their Normandy bridgehead, our defensive problems will multiply dramatically as we pull back across the breadth of northern France. If the Allies are also able to discern our capabilities and intentions whenever orders are transmitted by radio, then any attempt to establish a defense will be undermined wherever we attempt to make a stand.”
Rommel took a deep, shuddering breath, and all eyes turned towards him. It was clearly difficult to speak, and the words came slowly, but he managed.
“Another problem,” Rommel croaked, “is that withdrawal exposes our soldiers to Allied air power whenever they move in daylight. I stand, so to speak, as evidence of the danger posed by their fighter-bombers.”
“True,” Manstein grunted, eyes glazing slightly as he began making mental calculations, “but even the Allies cannot bomb troop formations accurately by night. Experience in the east has shown that ordered withdrawal is possible under adverse conditions, given discipline. And flexibility for commanders on the spot in implementing both defensive operations and local counterattacks.”
“But how could we conduct such a withdrawal,” Rundstedt objected, “without exposing our forces to encirclement?”
Manstein considered this for a moment, and Eryn began to breathe more normally, realizing she was winning the fight. “The Anglo-British advance,” Manstein said, “will be severely constrained by logistics as they push through France. They have conducted an extensive bombing campaign against the local infrastructure, which has harmed us greatly, but will now serve to slow their own advance from the sea. If we extract our armored forces from the fighting around Caen immediately, we will be able to restore a semblance of a mobile reserve capable of threatening any part of their advance that moves too quickly.”
“The logistics problem rapidly solves itself,” objected Guderian, “soon after they break out of Normandy, once they seize the Channel ports. Unless those can be swiftly and thoroughly wrecked, which I suppose is possible if the decision is made soon.”
“They are likely to pursue multiple axis of advance,” Manstein added, “which will certainly strain their supplies. I expect that they will keep the bulk of their forces as close to the Allied air bases in England as possible, taking the easiest route to Berlin that passes through Belgium, crossing the lower Rhine near the border with Holland. But it would be in the Americans’ character to send an armored thrust further afield, perhaps towards Lorraine.”
“These kinds of concerns,” Guderian grumbled, “are why we are fighting to contain the Normandy bridgehead in the first place. Our position will only become more difficult as we are forced to hold a longer front line, one that may stretch all the way from Switzerland to the North Sea. And once the Allies have swept across northern France, then our forces in the south of the country will be in mortal danger of becoming cut off.”
“Actually,” Eryn couldn't prevent a grim smile from reaching her lips. “The Americans and French are planning to hurry up the liberation of southern France by preparing another landing. In a few weeks, while Patton, Bradley, and Montgomery push east, another army will land and strike north from Marseilles to protect Patton's southern flank as he drives towards the Ruhr south of the Ardennes. You see, then, that even if you try to hold on in Normandy, the Allies will just attack you from behind. Forming a new line closer to Germany is your only chance.”
The generals made no reply, but fell silent, staring at each other again. All but Galland, who seemed increasingly alienated from the group. Eryn was certain that he already suspected much of what she said was true. And as she watched the men, she realized they were coming to the same conclusions.
Eryn felt movement at her side, and glanced over at Lewinsky. He was gazing at her with a look of barely controlled awe. She shrugged slightly, glad she had made an impact.
“So, the basic limit on the Allies’ advance to our borders,” Guderian said, shoulders falling wearily, “will be logistical in nature. We can't hope to hold them back if they still have sufficient available forces to open new fronts. Well, that at least makes the fundamental question quite simple: after the retreat, where can we strike them back, when it will harm them the most? If their willingness to bear the cost of a winter of bloody warfare is their only limit, after fuel, then we must find a time and place to turn about and maul their onrushing forces at least once.”
“Yes,” Manstein agreed. “If we can put ourselves in a position to launch a sufficiently powerful counterattack at the precise moment an Allied army begins to experience severe supply shortages, we may be able to isolate and destroy at least part of it. A passive defense will sooner or later be broken, but a defeat delivered after a seeming victory, perhaps, might put them in a mood for peace talks.”
Guderian grunted in assent. “The Americans are holding one of their elections this November. I doubt they have the stomach for serious casualties. Depending on how quickly they can advance in the face of our fighting withdrawal, I'd estimate it will take them no longer than a month to reach the Seine and Paris, two to reach the Meuse. Delivering a bloody defeat the month before the election could undermine Roosevelt's chances, could it not?”
“It could,” Eryn replied cautiously, “but I wouldn't count on it. The American leadership can usually control the majority of the population, just like the British and the Soviets do. But it is true that the Allies can't handle too many casualties, and that scandals over defeats can do strange things to politicians at the polls. The British Empire's manpower reserves are running as low as yours. America and Canada are exceptions, but Canada prefers to send only volunteers abroad, and the Americans still have Japan to worry about. So yes, if you can inflict sufficient casualties, that will impact their strategic planning at the very least. Possibly force them to negotiate a truce.”
Eryn felt painfully aware then of the brutal irony of her situation. Essentially, she was telling the Germans to put themselves in a position to kill or wound thousands of Allied soldiers who were just following their orders. The goal ultimately was to prevent even more from dying, as they did in Eryn’s history, but the logic was awfully macabre. Especially when the Allies were the good guys in the war, for all their many faults, at least when compared to the Germans.
“The question becomes,” Manstein said, “when Patton reaches the Meuse in two months, what reserves will we have available to power our counter-stroke? A great deal of equipment is lost on any retreat, even if the men are saved.”
“Thanks to Speer's efforts,” Guderian replied, “armored vehicle production continues to increase despite the Allied bombing raids. Transporting new equipment to the front is, however, increasingly difficult now that they have destroyed so much of the rail infrastructure between the factories and the front lines.”
“But let me recall the figures… yes, between July's production, which is currently still mostly delayed in transit, August's, and whatever can be pushed to the front in early September, we should be able to build up sufficient forces to field three full armored corps. I can order a reorganization to increase the combat power of each compared to the present, particularly if the Waffen SS can be disbanded and equipment drawn from the common pool. That will help concentrate more armor at the point of attack than the Americans have seen in the war to date. We will see how they respond to the shock of a proper armored punch!”
“Equipment fails,” Manstein said, “but experienced soldiers are priceless. Half to three quarters will survive an orderly retreat through France. We will have to match them with fresh young recruits and a fair few invalids to fill out the formations once behind the Meuse, but there should be enough experienced soldiers to preserve balance.”
Rundstedt turned to Guderian. “How will we handle the Waffen SS units already in the field? I worry about their loyalty if we choose to back the Beck regime.”
Eryn felt a rush of excitement. Victory was on the table, and better yet, the generals seemed to be talking themselves into granting her what she needed without additional argument on her part. Einherjar-Rommel’s advice was exactly what she had needed.
“Regular Army formations are perpetually under-strength,” Guderian shrugged, “and folding the SS units into them will be trivial, as they are used to fighting together. At least the ones with soldiers who can speak German, that is. The foreign recruits are far more difficult to deal with. But in general, once merged in the field, we will simply break up the Waffen SS units by platoon, eliminate the separate designation and command structures, and strengthen existing Army units. Politics will not matter then, as these have a way of disappearing in the midst of battle. Any who fail to conform can be sent to defend the ports the Allies are certain to take sooner or later.”
“Speaking of the reliability of parallel formations,” Rundstedt turned to Galland, “what support can the Air Force offer? I must admit to wondering about your perception of the Beck government. Goering, of course, is out of the way, but how does the rest of your officer corps view the coup?”
Galland laughed. “Goering was an idiot, and we all knew it. Between his drug induced mania and Hitler's ridiculous meddling in technical matters he could hardly comprehend, it is a miracle the Air Force continues to exist at all. In point of fact, we barely do. Aside from close air support in the east and largely futile attempts to intercept the American and British bombers at home, we are a spent force.”
“This would explain your total failure to protect our citizens from bombings.” Manstein said rather accusingly.
Galland fixed Manstein with an intense stare. “The Allies have reduced our access to fuel by an order of magnitude, and too much of what is produced goes to the wretched V-weapon projects. My pilots receive a third of the training they require merely to become proficient aviators. Our aircraft are falling behind the Americans and British in terms of their quality, except the new jet force, which Hitler in his infinite wisdom decided had to be used for bombing, and not destroying enemy bombers! If you utterly mismanage a fighting force, if you hamstring every effort at reform, then this is the inevitable result!”
“Gentlemen,” Lady Rommel said, gently stroking her husband’s hand, so quiet until now Eryn had forgotten she was there. “My husband has something to say.”
They all turned and deferred to him without hesitation. Rommel's eyes were open again, and Eryn thought she could see the faintest flicker of something in them. Hope? Or was that just wishful thinking on her part?
“Like General Galland,” Rommel spoke clearly, though with great effort, “I have personally experienced the full fury of Allied air power. Albeit more personally, though we will all have our turn before the end, I suspect. How to counter the bombers is a topic I greatly hope we can discuss at length in the future. But lack of fuel, that is a crucial matter. How can we hope to launch any effective counter-stroke when we cannot supply our armored forces with enough fuel?”
“If only we were built like the Russians,” Manstein muttered, “who are simply inhuman in their ability to survive without supplies. But then I suppose we would not be German.”
“Field Marshal,” Lewinsky said, drawing indignant stares from the senior officers, “I would like to politely suggest that you reconsider that view of Russians. I have been behind Soviet lines many times in this war, and I can assure you that they experience supply difficulties exactly as we do. As tough as the Russian soldier certainly is when exposed to the elements, it is the thousands of American trucks that constantly bring him food and ammunition that fuel his advance on Berlin. We underestimate their capabilities at our own peril.”
Rundstedt opened his mouth to say something, but Lewinsky cut him off too, and with a vehemence that startled Eryn. “Gentlemen,” he glared as he spoke, “while I am relieved that you are beginning to see the way to a new and more sensible strategy, I feel compelled to make something absolutely clear, here in this moment, before we once again become distracted by operational matters.”
“The demands you presented at the start of this meeting are totally unacceptable. Military officers do not have the right to question the orders given to them by the rightful head of state, and whatever you might think about the ethics or morality of Operation Valkyrie, it has given us a chance to change Germany's future. And we will take it, while you will follow orders in good faith. We killed Hitler. We are in charge. And it is we who now lead Germany.”
Rundstedt, Manstein, and Guderian all fixed Lewinsky with a cold stare as he spoke. Eryn stayed silent. She had done all she could, and this part, he had to do himself. She only hoped she had done enough.
“Here I must be absolutely clear,” Lewinsky continued, standing with his hands clenched at his sides. “The Beck government intends to restore civilian rule as quickly as possible. All political prisoners held by the old regime will be released, and all vestiges of the Nazi government will be destroyed, gauleiters, gestapo and all. We are now the legitimate government of Germany, but we will commit to granting the military total control over the conduct of military operations.”
“To that end, Albert Speer will remain in charge of the war economy, and if he agrees General Guderian will be placed in charge of the reserve army, tasked with building a new echelon of forces prepared to defend Germany's borders. Field Marshal Manstein, we would like to appoint you as commander of all forces in the east, and Field Marshal Rundstedt, we wish to appoint you as overall commander of all forces in the west and south, at least until Field Marshal Rommel is well enough to take over command of the western defense. At this point we will appoint you head the military in its entirety.”
“The Air Force will be placed under General Galland's command, and expected to develop an effective defense against Allied bombing, whatever the cost, however that may be accomplished. All other aerial operations will be secondary to that end, even ground support missions.”
Lewinsky paused, allowing the generals a moment to take in the details of the offer. It wasn't, in point of fact, dramatically different from the generals opening demands, save for the whole military dictatorship business. Coming into the meeting Eryn and Lewinsky had agreed that this would be their one and only counter-offer to whatever demands the generals had, which they had assumed would be dictatorial powers. It gave the military leadership almost everything they could want but absolute power. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the price that had to be paid for winning their allegiance and preventing a Nazi resurgence.
“The truth that you must all recognize,” Lewinsky said after a time, going for the killing blow, “here and now, is that Germany truly does stand on the brink of total annihilation. In the west, and the east, we can only withdraw to reasonable defensive lines and tell the Allies our intent is to negotiate a ceasefire on all fronts. If they continue to press us, if they continue to refuse to negotiate, then we will show them what Germany is capable of when pushed beyond the brink of despair.”
They stared at Lewinsky for a long time. He stared right back. Eryn held her breath as long as she could, then exhaled and inhaled without making a sound when she knew her face was starting to go red.
And then, to Eryn’s relief, they finally agreed. Hands were shaken and silence fell again, the mood growing somber, as if each realized they had just sealed the fates of thousands of people. Maybe even more.
Lewinsky saluted, turned on his heel, and marched out of Rommel’s House. Eryn lingered briefly, her eyes meeting the wounded Field Marshal’s. Once again, she saw the glimmer in his eyes. For an instant, she saw a reflection of the Rommel from Valhalla in them.
Then they closed again as his body went tense, struck by a spasm of pain. Rommel’s wife squeezed his hand, and with a nod Eryn turned and followed Lewinsky back to the car. She joined him, and in minutes they were back on the road to Berlin.
Their mission was a success. The battered German military would respect its elders’ and fight on under the new regime. If the Nazis wanted to reclaim power, they would have to go through the very military that had conquered most of Europe.
What was left of it, anyway. For as long as it lasted.
A buzzing noise caught Eryn’s attention, and she looked up at the sky. Far in the distance, an unnatural cloud moved slowly through the high air, heading east. From a hundred documentaries she recognized the distinctive sunlit shapes of heavy bombers making their way to a target somewhere in Germany.
The Nazis might be on the run, but for Eryn, grave dangers remained on her horizon. All she could do was huddle in the chilly seat and wonder when she could return to Valhalla.