Things Never Known: The Parallel Nazi - 8, page 21
“Thank you. A little downtime is always relaxing.”
“So you can go hide in your apartment.”
The scarred former Nazi gave him a one-sided grin. “I have always felt the best company I keep is myself.”
Skorzeny was a notorious loner. Shiloah found it fascinating that he seemed to thrive on interactions with the Judaeans. But, he always returned to his apartment to decompress.
§ § §
March 27, 1945; 2:30 PM
Wehrmacht Field Headquarters
Knyazh’i Gory, Russia
“Where are those verdammte things coming from?” Herman Balck shouted as dirt and sand filtered down from the railroad ties covering the bunker.
The rain of V1 copies seemed unabated. The Germans had code-named the devices buzzard once the Russians began actively using them. And they seemed to have more than just a few.
“I’ve had a Storch up since late morning, Herr Colonel,” the intelligence officer reported. “They must be using mobile launchers exclusively since we keep bombing their fixed bases.”
“And that doesn’t help right now, does it, Major?”
“I need to speak to the pilot. He should be able to see the booster rocket from the air from about thirty kilometers in any direction, and it’s a clear day.”
“You do that. And get a second Storch up there. Maybe if we can kill a few mobile launchers, this will slow them down. And I’m going to get a message off to Guderian to see if he can get the Luftwaffe off their collective Ärsche and find the factory. If our beloved foreign minister manages to achieve a ceasefire, the Ivans will build thousands of the things, and then Gott help us if we start shooting again.”
“The Flak crews have managed to shoot down five of the Buzzards in the past week,” the intelligence officer explained.
“Well, they didn’t shoot down this one,” Balck grumped. “Mein Gott, I can’t even fight a war without the Russians making verdammte nuisances of themselves.”
The men remaining in the bunker grinned at one another as the Colonel stormed out of the bunker. He had always taken it personally when the Russians delivered ordnance on his location.
The command tent seemed intact, with perhaps a few more tears from the shrapnel. The command team took the attacks in stride and were quickly back in business. Whenever the Russians began a counterattack, they now peppered the area with Buzzard strikes along with the artillery barrage. Like everything else the Russians were currently doing, they seemed half-hearted.
“May I assume the Russians tried to come over the lines?”
“Yes, Herr Colonel. We stopped them.”
“Very well, then follow the standard practice and advance another five kilometers. We do need to keep the pressure on them.”
“Of course, Herr Colonel.”
Balck marched over to the map. Clear weather was rare this time of the year, and he was emphatic in having his army group take advantage of it. They were getting rains now, interspersed with the last of the winter storms. The railroad was hauling in hopper cars filled with gravel, which the German engineers spread along the tracks. It provided decent roads for the equipment and soldiers but also bunched them up. And the Russians took advantage of the attractive targets.
“We are losing too many men to snipers and mortar emplacements,” Balck said.
“We could send in our Brandenburgers,” Captain Metz said.
“I suppose we could. Maybe if we give the Ivans those targets, they will leave the rest of us alone.” The sarcasm was evident in Balck’s voice. “I don’t know why we have Brandenburgers with us. They sit in the camp and eat our supplies. Beyond that, they aren’t contributing to the war.”
Balck turned to the communications sergeant. “I assume you are working on my message to Guderian? Also, tell him to pull the Brandenburgers back and send us some trained people who know what they’re doing.”
“Yes, Herr Colonel,” the sergeant immediately replied.
“Fine. And you’d better show me the text before you transmit it.”
Balck turned and marched into his office. Captain Metz grinned at the sergeant. It was always entertaining when Balck got into one of his moods. When the communications sergeant delivered the message text to Guderian, the Colonel would yell at him for using intemperate language. After some heavy editing, Balck would approve the politely worded communique to Berlin.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
March 27, 1945; 2:30 PM
NKVD Director’s Office
Dzerzhinsky Square
Moscow, USSR
General Dmitri Bulganin was visibly nervous as he sat across from Sergei Kruglov and watched him read the report. This did not bother Kruglov, as most visitors to Dzerzhinsky Square were scared, and the hosts intended precisely that.
Kruglov looked up at the Soviet General. “So, you have successfully exploded a new kind of bomb. Is that what you are saying in this report?”
“Yes, Comrade Director. The test was successful. It exceeded our predictions for explosive yield.”
“So, you have a new bomb,” Kruglov said dismissively. “The Soviet people do not lack for bombs. Why is this significant, and why are you wasting my time?”
“Comrade Director, this single device yielded an explosion the equivalent of about twenty-five thousand metric tons of TNT. It is enough to level a medium-sized city.”
“With a single bomb?”
“Yes, Comrade Director.”
Kruglov dove back into the report. “You do not know how to make a simple report understandable, Comrade General.”
“My apologies, Comrade Director. I wanted to get the news to you as quickly as possible.”
The director grunted as he continued reading. “Very well, I think I understand your report. How do you differentiate between a bomb and a device?”
“This was a prototype, what the Americans call a proof of concept. We would need further engineering to develop a weapon. And once completed, it would be sizable.”
“How sizeable?”
“We estimate it would weigh about twelve thousand kilos.”
“And nothing in Red Army Air Force that can carry something like that.”
“That is a problem.”
“Semyon,” Kruglov shouted, “more tea.”
Semyon Kuznetsov carried a silver samovar and a cup into the room a few moments later. He carefully placed the tray on the desk and then retreated from the room. Kruglov filled a cup from the bottom of the intricately carved device and took the time for a brief sip. It was scorching. He set the cup on his desk and looked at Bulganin.
“So, you can make big explosions, but there is no way to deliver them to our enemies.”
“We are at just the beginning of our work, Comrade Secretary,” the general stammered. “Once we proved it would work, we began developing ways to make the device smaller. I am confident we will eventually be able to fit a bomb of this type on an airplane.”
“At least you haven’t poisoned half the country as the Americans did.”
“We are very careful, Comrade Director.”
Kruglov stood and walked over to the window. Below him, the statue of Iron Feliks glowered over the landscape like a modern-day Ozymandias. The NKVD director contained his towering joy within his stern visage as he considered what Bulganin had delivered. He now controlled a device that would reverse the Soviet fortunes against Germany and her Ukrainian lackeys. But it had to be forged into a usable and effective weapon.
After a few moments, he returned to his chair and glared at the general.
“How many of these devices can you build, Comrade?” he demanded.
“We have enough plutonium for one more device. We are manufacturing more, but it takes time.”
“And how long until you have a usable weapon?”
“It may take several years, to be honest, Comrade.”
Kruglov drummed his fingers on the desk. “Several years.”
“Yes, Comrade. We have proven the theory. The engineering to build a workable bomb is challenging.”
“Too challenging for you, perhaps?”
“As far as we know, Comrade Director, we are ahead of everyone else. Our sources in the American project say that because of the disaster in Hanford, Washington, they will not have a weapon ready for at least another year. The Americans locked the British out of the project. The Germans are working on it but are devoting a fraction of the resources compared to the Americans and us. No, Comrade, we are ahead, and I believe we can stay that way.”
Kruglov glanced at the ceiling and then quickly back at the general. “This device that you recently exploded; If you built another, can it be installed in a shipping crate?”
“It would be a fairly large crate, but yes, I believe so.”
“How long would it take to construct another device?”
“I assume it would need to withstand the rigors of shipping, correct?”
Kruglov raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, okay. I just wanted to make sure. I believe we could have something ready by early August.”
“Very well. I will provide a courier and a one-time code pad. You will send me weekly reports on your progress, and I expect you to be ready by August first. Is that understood?”
“Of course, of course. We will not fail you, Comrade Director.”
“Do you understand the term obfuscate?”
Bulganin looked puzzled. “Yes, I do, Comrade.”
“I want you to obfuscate your reports so that even if someone else decodes them, only you and I will understand what we are discussing. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Comrade Director. I understand.”
“Also, I want you and your people to prepare a presentation for Comrades Malenkov, Molotov, and me. We will use the secure meeting room in the Kremlin. You will return to Moscow in one month for the presentation. You may bring a single additional person for the presentation. I don’t want people raising questions about this project. It must remain secret.”
“I understand, Comrade Director.”
“Very well. Please wait in the outer office. Thank you for bringing this to me.”
“Semyon,” Kruglov shouted again.
“Yes, Comrade Director?”
“I want you to pull a one-time pad. Give one to General Bulganin and give the other to me. Make sure he understands how to use it. Then assign a courier to travel back to Arzmas-16 with the General. Any questions?”
“Do you want me to assign a code name and file storage?”
“No. I will control it from my office.”
“Very well. I will need to requisition secure storage for the office....”
“You did not understand, Semyon. I will control this from my office, personally. Right now, you know everything that you need to know. Do you understand?”
Kuznetsov had worked for Kruglov for five years and had learned not to quail before him. But the threat was there, and he recognized it.
“I understand, Comrade Director.”
“Fine. Please ask the Deputy Director to attend me.”
“Of course, Comrade Director.”
Kruglov watched the secretary hurry out of the office and shook his head. Five minutes later, Dmitri Sagatev knocked once and entered the Director’s office.
“Thank you for coming so quickly. We have some good news this morning.”
Kruglov handed him Bulganin’s report. “Take the time to sit down and read it through, Dmitri.”
Sagatev nodded without saying anything. He sat down and began reading. Five minutes later, he looked up and pursed his lips in a silent whistle.
“This changes everything, Comrade Director.”
“Indeed,” Kruglov responded. “We have the means to defeat the clod-kickers finally.”
“But it seems that Bulganin has not actually developed a weapon.”
“Correct. He told me it may take several years to develop a useful weapon.”
“So, we must be patient.”
“Yes,” Kruglov said. “My concern is that while we are working to develop the weapons, the Deutsche will catch up with us. I had thought perhaps a shortcut may be available.”
Sagatev leaned back in his chair and waited. Kruglov was typically the politest of men, and it served as a useful veil over his ruthlessness. But he would grow impatient when his subordinates prompted him.
Bulganin told me that enough explosive material was on hand to build a second device. He could have it ready by early August. He confirmed that the device would fit in a shipping crate.”
The other man leaned forward, his eyes opening wider. “So, you think we might slip it into Germany somewhere as cargo?”
“I want you to explore the logistics of such an operation and how to secure it. You will also look for a suitable target. And, of course, you must ensure operational security. We must give no hints to the Germans that something is coming. And above all, it must not be tracked back to us.”
Sagatev nodded. “I will begin work on this project and keep you apprised of my progress.”
“Very well, Dmitri. I have asked Bulganin to prepare a briefing for the government members. We must consider the strategic implications of this weapon and how we use it.”
“I expect this will come as a vast surprise to the rest of the world.”
“Indeed.”
After Sagatev left the office, Kruglov forced himself to return to the routine matters that crossed his desk. He was excited about the prospects presented by Bulganin’s operation. After taking care of the Stalin problem and settling this ill-conceived war, Kruglov would be the statesman that brought the Soviet Union into the modern age. No one would ever again doubt the advance of International Socialism.
At 3:45 PM, Kruglov walked out of his office.
“You are running late for the government meeting, Comrade Director,” Kuznetsov reminded him.
“Yes, thank you, Semyon. I will likely not return to the office today. If anything comes up, you know how to get word to me.”
“Of course, Director.”
Kuznetsov watched Kruglov leave the office and then returned to his work. Managing the mass of paperwork flowing through the office was a challenge. Kuznetsov had developed the skills needed to route the critical items to the Director and pushing decisions back to other departments.
Kruglov believed in delegation, teaching his subordinates to make decisions. He rewarded good judgment but was unrelenting in wrath towards those who made poor calls. These skills enabled his rise in the NKVD and then to the very top of the Communist Party structure.
At seven in the evening, Kuznetsov completed his work for the day and looked around carefully. Other workers in the building were leaving, and things were quiet. He picked up a stack of paperwork for Kruglov to study the next day and walked into the Director’s office. This was perfectly appropriate, and he knew it would withstand scrutiny.
The secretary set the stack of paper in the precise location specified by the Director for incoming documents. He then moved over to the folder on the blotter centered in front of the Director’s chair. Kuznetsov sensed Bulganin’s meeting earlier in the afternoon was important. This belief was reinforced when Kruglov explicitly forbade the secretary from any knowledge of the project.
Kuznetsov had more than idle curiosity. He had shared information about his job with his girlfriend, and she pressed him for more. He had guessed she passed information to someone else. He did not particularly care for that swine, Kruglov, and had no scruples about what he did. Yet he was careful.
“Do you suppose Director Kruglov might be curious about your activities, Comrade Kuznetsov?”
Kuznetsov looked up to see Dmitri Sagatev standing in the doorway, pointing a Tolkarev at him.
“I was just delivering tomorrow’s papers for the Director, Comrade Deputy Director.”
“I think Director Kruglov may want to talk to you about your work.”
Sagatev motioned with the gun, and Kuznetsov plodded towards the door with leaden feet.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
March 30, 1945; 2:00 PM
Governing Council Meeting Room
Reich Chancellery
Berlin, Germany
“What you are seeing here, meine Herren, is an A4 rocket with our new engine,” Wernher von Braun commented as the short movie of a rocket launch was displayed on the projection screen. “We have reused as much of our existing equipment as possible.”
“I assume that helps on costs,” Peter Schreiber commented.
“It does. And it helps to use flight-proven components for testing. We can then focus on the engine itself.”
“And how is the new engine improved?” Rainer asked.
“We have achieved a fifteen percent increase in thrust. The major improvements are in cost and reliability. The rocket engine itself costs about forty percent less to build. We have extensively tested ten engines with two failures.”
“Please explain extensive,” Guderian ordered.
“In the A4,” von Braun said, “the normal run time is about sixty seconds. We have run the engines for four minutes on the test stand. We have also made repeated runs with engines. As you can see on the film now, the rocket engine is firing in the test stand.”
“It almost seems a waste to use them only once on a rocket.”
von Braun smiled. “At this time, there is little else we could do unless we wanted to attempt to land the rocket.”
“Is that even possible?” Schloss asked.
“Oh, it is theoretically possible. The state of our guidance systems is such that we would almost have to have a human pilot aboard for something like that. And we would probably kill a lot of pilots perfecting it.”
“Yet you want to place a man in Earth orbit. Is that not just as dangerous?”
“Yes and no. It will be dangerous because we have never done that before. There is a lot we would have to learn. But landing would involve dropping from orbit and deploying a parachute. It would be orders of magnitude easier. At some point, I would like to build a test machine that would allow us to hover a small rocket and practice landings.”
