Stupid Luck and Happenstance, Thread III

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Six Hundred Ninety-Six



7th July 1978

Giant Mountains near Neu Mohrau, Silesia

Wait for further instructions had been the last orders that Niko had received. That was one of the oldest aspects of being in the Army, hurry up and wait. The trouble was that the vast majority of the men of Niko’s Platoon were not regular soldiers. There was also the aspect that most of the junior enlisted were University Students from Breslau and all the Noncoms were Tradesmen from local industry. All of them liked the perks that came with being in the Silesian Reserve Corps, however when it came time to pay the Piper none of them were thrilled. There was also the reason why they had been ordered up into the mountains in the first place. While Niko was just as much in the dark as they were, you didn’t need to be a genius to figure what several Divisions spread across a wide geographical region and the instructions that they had been given meant. This was the sort of thing that they would do in the event of a nuclear war.

That was where the real trouble began.

Many of the students were understandably nihilistic, saying that the best use of their time would be to just go to the top of the highest ridge and watch the pretty lightshow as Western Civilization immolated itself. The others, who had families and lives to go back to took a dim view of that perspective. For Niko, the alert followed by getting sent to what had been called an “Advanced position” had come at an annoying time. Like the other University students present, he had the exams that marked the end of the term upcoming. He was also supposed to be preparing to go to Argentina in a few weeks.

When Niko had mentioned his interest in going back to South America to his father, he had discovered that his father was more than happy to facilitate that. It had turned out that the amount of property that the family owned in Argentina was more extensive and far more lucrative than they had realized, and someone needed to go down there to see to its disposition. Niko had volunteered to do that. The trouble was that this alert had come down before he’d had a chance to leave.

Now that he was in the Giant Mountains, the flaws of this plan were painfully obvious to him. If there really had been a nuclear attack, the heavy industry of Silesia and Bohemia would be high-value targets. These mountains would inevitably be blanketed with fallout. You only needed to see how sulfur dioxide from the smokestacks affected the trees around them to see the reality of the situation. There was also the issue of water, everything they did depended on finding an uncontaminated source. Good luck with that.

That was the reason why Niko was writing a letter to his Aunt Helene. While his Superiors would probably be furious if they knew that he was writing to a politician, a letter to his Aunt and Uncle telling them that he was well and including his observations about life in the field were harmless enough. Aunt Helene was shrewd enough to be able to read between the lines. For Niko it had been a bit of a surprise to learn how his Aunt was regarded by the Soldaten. She had been one of the first to call for the end of the Patagonian War, the welfare of the soldiers and their families was something that had been a significant issue for her. When Niko thought about it, Aunt Helene was the daughter, wife, and mother of soldiers. Finally, Democratic Ecology had part of its platform the prohibition of nuclear arms. The events of the last few days had placed a whole lot of emphasis on that.

With that, the sound of motorcycle coming up the fire trail was heard. Niko had read accounts of the First World War and how riders had been as key to communications then as they were now. It was a way of passing information that was about as secure as possible if speed wasn’t an issue. The motorcycle was a militarized version of the BMW K4, was a large change from the First World War. Having actual brakes for starters.

The motorcycle stopped and Niko watched as the rider pulled a stack of letters out of the saddlebags and handed it to the Hauptfeldwebel. They had only been out here for a few days. It was a bit of a stretch to think that they would be getting any mail already. Niko figured that is was an effort by Regimental Headquarters to forward their mail from home, perhaps a note from home, for morale purposes. The result was them getting bills while they were not in a position to do anything about them. Niko had seen a movie a few years earlier set during the Soviet War where letters from home turned into the darkest sort of coal black humor as months old past due notices and a letter notifying the receiver of pending repossession arrived. There was also the macabre spectacle of getting letters from a dead relative whose funeral the receiver had been granted leave to attend.

“One for you Leutnant” The Hauptfeldwebel said as he handed a letter to Niko.

Tearing it open, Niko saw that it was from Monique. With everything that had happened he had forgotten about the conversation that they’d had last week. She had wanted to talk to her grandfather before she agreed to travel with him. It seemed that Piers Sjostedt had felt that seeing the wider world beyond Flensburg would be good for her. There was also the aspect that her taking a vacation from her great aunts would be good for everyone else. Niko didn’t disagree with that, even Bas was scared of those three.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Six Hundred Ninety-Seven



10th July 1978

Tempelhof, Berlin

Marie Alexandra’s return from Lichtenstein was marked with foot stomping and a slammed door. Kat understood why she was unhappy. Beyond the inconvenience of the abrupt awakening and terrifying helicopter ride in the early morning hours of July 5th, there had been careless talk about just how people saw Kat’s youngest biological daughter that Marie had overheard. It revolved around exactly why in addition to Kristina and her children, Marie had been on the list of people who the First Foot Guard were supposed to get to safety in the event of a National emergency.

When Louis Ferdinand had wanted to give Kat the somewhat dubious reward of a grand sounding title within the city of her birth, she had instantly seen the implications of essentially turning Berlin into a Principality. Kat had insisted on being named the appointed Prefect with the hope that the many factions within the city would see her as a temporary problem. The thing that Kat had not anticipated was how her role would evolve over the years. She had become a figure outside and above the regular city politics utilizing threats, persuasion, and bribery to keep everyone moving in the same direction. Beneath it all were the rumors that most of the people of Berlin had heard about what Kat was capable of when provoked and some of the things that she had done during the Soviet War. Never once had Kat ever thought that any of her children would be her successor.

Somewhere along the line, things had changed. Apparently there had been a quiet assessment of Kat’s children and the consensus was that Marie Alexandra was the most likely Prefect in waiting. She could understand their logic. Tatiana was well known to be a complete bitch and her latest antics in Washington DC had done nothing to persuade anyone otherwise. She had apparently beat a man with a collapsible baton who had admittedly had it coming for a variety of reasons even if she had been unwilling to say exactly why she had done it. The Ambassador to the United States had kept the matter quiet after his wife had interceded on Tatiana’s behalf. Malcolm on the other hand was regarded as something of a nonentity and that he lacked the forceful personality needed to control matters. To Kat’s eternal regret, she was forced to admit that was true, but only because Malcolm was just too nice for his own good.

Still, Kat was worried about the read that people had on Marie. There were disquieting aspects of Marie that she kept well hidden, and the day would come when people realized that she was not at all what they were expecting.



Pusan, Korea

It was hardly a surprise that the German Marines stuck Tyrone Lee with the Platoon of chuckleheads that they had. This was because he would be hard pressed to find anyone in the entire German Navy or Marines less aware of what was actually going on. It was led in theory by Leutnant Raeder, who struck Lee as the sort of blue blood who would either reveal himself as the leader his namesake great-grandfather had been or else he would eventually leave to take the German equivalent of Executive Vice-President of Sales and spending the rest of his life working on his golf game.

Glued to Raeder’s hip was Oberfeldwebel Muller, or perhaps it was the other way around, the Platoon Sergeant of this outfit. To Raeder’s credit he listened to Muller most of the time, though from Lee’s perspective that was of limited utility because Muller was only a few years older. He must have enlisted the instant he was legally old enough to do so to explain his rank. Probably to escape the prospect of spending the next thirty years punching a time clock if Lee had to guess.

In short, while it had clearly been the German Naval High Command’s intention to put him somewhere where he would be unable to learn much, they had stuck him in with the sort of men he had known known since Basic Training despite national differences. And they knew more than they even realized. It had taken a bit of time, but Lee had sorted out the exact meanings of the terminology, Zug and Groupe being roughly equivalent to Platoon and Squad.

While Leutnant Raeder was spending a lot of his time trying to convince his superiors get the Platoon detached to the South China Sea or the South Pacific, they had been training. Lee had been watching, comparing it to what he had seen on Parris Island and San Diego. There were a few things that had come as a shock, like learning that every single one of the German Marines had a small two-way radio that allowed them to coordinate their movements. Then there were the machine guns and light mortars that they had built their tactics around. Throughout his career Lee had followed the exploits of his German counterparts in Korea where they had refined their tactics against the Chinese and the various bushfire conflicts that cropped up. Most of his fellow Marines had the idea that if they ever went head-to-head with the Germans and they had a contested landing they would totally smoke them. Lee had understood that numbers would eventually win the day but seeing an MG42/56 in action along with its smaller cousin the Vz.60 had convinced him that the first wave onto the beach would have a very rough go. The Platoon had two of the MG42/56s and at least two Vz.60s. The Platoon also had a pair of light 50mm mortars, a pair of rocket launchers, and every squad had at least one underbarrel mounted 40mm grenade launcher.

A few days earlier, the entire German Military had gone on high alert and to Lee’s complete surprise, the Marines he was with had basically blown the whole thing off. “We are all dead if this is for real, so why get excited?” Muller had asked in reply, “Do you want us to throw you in the brig until the end comes?” When word came that it had been a midair collision over the North Atlantic, Lee had learned first-hand that the German Marines had a rather dim view of their own Luftwaffe.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Six Hundred Ninety-Eight



15th July 1978

Mitte, Berlin

This was the exciting part with the Rock & Roll soundtrack was always shown in movies and on television shows. The exciting climax that came after months and even years of painstaking investigation that was mostly glossed over at best. This was where justice got served and they got the bad guy. Sven Werth was thinking about this as he was in the lead car of a dozen sedans and cargo vans that were taking his men across town as well that the Federal Police’s Counter Terrorism Team. Sven watched as his Deputy, Markus Wolf, removed his pistol from the holster and chambered a round. It was Sven’s hope that it wouldn’t come to that.

This was Sven’s operation and the location they would be operating in was highly public, one everyone in Germany would instantly recognize. So, he knew that he could leave nothing to chance. The instant the car pulled up to the Reichstag building on Karl-Weise-Alle he knew that there was going to be absolutely no going back. The confused reaction that his men got as they got out of their cars by passersby, then they saw the GSG men unloading and rushed to get clear. The building’s security was shocked as they entered. As they had planned, the GSG men moved to take over the building’s security and phone system. They didn’t want their quarry to learn that they were coming.

“What is the meaning of this” The security guard with the most impressive looking uniform demanded.

“I have a warrant that grants me access to the offices of the Chancelor” Werth said pulling the envelope that had the warrant from his coat pocket. When the security guard saw the number of signatures by the Judges who were involved he went pale. That showed just how seriously Berlin’s Higher Regional Court, the Kammergericht, was taking this matter. “Your job is to facilitate that.”

The security guard gulped. Sven had not placed an “Or else” at the end of that. For a high-ranking Officer of the BII to come after the Chancellor himself like this meant that Sven had made certain that there were absolutely no loose ends before applying for the warrant. So, Sven didn’t need to.

Sven noticed during the walk from the security checkpoint to the elevators and into the Offices of the Chancelor that they had everyone scrambling to get out of their way. These were the political elite of Germany. Sven knew that either this would be one of the greatest moments of his career or else he was about to take one of the most epic falls. There was no middle ground here.

Sven ignored the Chancelor’s Personal Secretary as he strode down the hallway as the details of the warrant were served. Every bit of documentation was to be secured, the man they were looking for was here somewhere and they needed to find him.

“What is the meaning of this?” Heinz Kissinger demanded.

“You know that you are the second man to ask men that in the last ten minutes” Sven said.

The Chancelor stared at Sven like if he was some sort of sample of alien life that had been brought back from outer space. Kissinger was infamous for stonewalling when confronted and Sven had planned for exactly that. Stone walls were great and all, right up until someone drove a lorry into them.

“Unless you want to find out about how no man is above the Law when I arrest you for the Perversion of Justice you will tell me where your personal aide is this instant” Sven said.

“Friedhelm!” Kissinger yelled over his shoulder and was nearly bowled over by Sven and his men as they pushed him out of the way.

Sven had known all along that this day would come. Friedhelm Busse was man with no business being in a position of authority. That much was validated by the piece of information that had come from Tatiana von Mischner-Blackwood about how Busse had been the one who had ordered the leaking of her description to the American FBI. Further investigation and a search of Busse’s residence had caused all the pieces to fall into place regarding the events of the last several months and years. They had discovered that he had information in his possession that he had no business having even as an Aide of the Chancellor. They also found evidence that he had been using his various employer’s credentials to gain that access for years.

Stepping out of a doorway, Busse was looking down the barrels of a dozen rifles and pistols. Where most men would have frozen in fear he turned on his heel and ran back into the office. Sven stopped Markus from following Busse through the door as three bullets ripped through the air hitting the opposite wall in quick succession.

“It’s over Herre Busse!” Sven yelled as he peeked around the doorframe. “You are only making this worse.”

Busse had the look of a cornered animal as he was sheltering behind the desk. The pistol in his hand was an old Luger. The Heer had phased those out decades ago, but they still turned up from time to time on the black market just because of how they had been made by the thousands during both World Wars.

“Worse?” Busse said with a laugh, “How could it get any worse? I mean, look around you. Jews, Poles, and Russians everywhere you look. Who won the fucking war? I can’t tell anymore.”

“Be that as it may” Sven replied, “We need to…”

“Shut up!” Busse yelled before he fired another shot causing Sven to duck back. “You think you know all the answers Inspector? I got news for you! You are just as much a tool as any of us!”

Sven had a sickening feeling about what was going to happen next before it did but couldn’t do anything to stop it. He heard the shot and the thud as a body hit the floor. Rushing into the office, Sven saw that Busse had shot himself in the head. Cursing to himself as he stared at the mess that had made all over the wall, he knew that this was the outcome that many would be happy with though it was one that he had wanted to avoid. Dead men couldn’t be interrogated or be put on trial.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Six Hundred Ninety-Nine



16th July 1978

Falkensee, Brandenburg

Admittedly, it was a nice neighborhood. Mostly a bedroom community with people commuting into Berlin. There was one exception though and that was the reason why Ed had decided to ruin her day by insisting that they meet in a park near the apartment she shared with the head of the nearby BND Academy and her young son. Asia Lawniczak, also known as Lady Winter, the Mistress of the Keys. She was a close advisor to the German Kaiser and was considered the keeper of all the great secrets of the Realm as it were. Ed didn’t care about her living openly as a Lesbian, that was not in any way germane to why he was here.

“Sven Werth tried to warn me about situations like these” Ed said as soon as Asia sat down on the bench next to him. “I didn’t understand what he was getting at.”

A look of revulsion crossed Asia’s face. She clearly knew who Sven Werth was and the role he had played the day before with the attempted arrest and suicide of Friedhelm Busse. While it would have been impossible for her to have made things play out the way they had, it had all worked out rather well for her.

“What do you want Agent O’Neill?” Asia asked.

“The truth” Ed replied as he pulled a copy of the front page of the Boston Globe from a couple weeks earlier out of the pocket of his coat. “Know anything about the headline?”

Asia’s face became unreadable. The headline was about how Kelsey Stafford, a retired Deputy Director of the FBI and the former Head of the Boston Field Office had been brutally killed in his house sometime during the 4th of July weekend.

“While the FBI and local Police were chasing Tatiana von Mischner-Blackwood around Boston this happened” Ed said, “The man who put you in Danvers State Hospital, apparently electrocuted until his heart gave out. Strangely in a case this messy, not one bit of physical evidence was left behind so whoever did it knew exactly what they were doing.”

Ed watched Asia’s face, with the exception of when he mentioned Danvers he got no reaction. He understood that what had happened in that place had left her prematurely grey.

“Everything that has happened over the last few years” Ed continued, “None of it making sense because everyone was thinking in terms of spy versus spy. Once I realized that it was all about revenge, suddenly it all made sense.”

Asia said nothing.

“The BND operation in America, the same people who left you swinging in the wind, being electrocuted and nearly getting lobotomized, they all got exposed because of leaks to the CIA” Ed said, “If I look into what happened to the members of the Boston Police and the Hospital Staff at Danvers, what am I going to find?”

“That is quite an interesting theory Mr. O’Neill” Asia replied.

“I am not through” Ed said, “The one thing that didn’t make sense is what happened to Greyson. He was going to bust Tatiana von Mischner-Blackwood and Margret Anne Morgan for Tax and Immigration Fraud, so you needed him not only out of the picture but completely discredited. How better than to have him thrown into a mental hospital. You certainly know first-hand how that looks. Having Tatiana get busted in Ireland would have blown up your entire plan, you trained her yourself, so you knew what she was capable of. Having her never get back to Boston to provide a nice distraction…”

Ed just shrugged.

“Enough” Asia said sharply, “Last I looked, there are men in Berlin busy crowing about how they finally caught the mole they have been looking for. Notice that I had nothing to do with that?”

“Catching the mole was your job” Ed said, “And you did exactly that, serving one up neatly gift wrapped. Your patsy even had the decency to off himself before you had to do it for him. What was the plan, having him being found hung in his cell last night?”

Asia didn’t answer.

Of course, Ed knew that she would never see the inside of a Courtroom. Too many powerful men on both sides of the Atlantic would have egg on their face if the full truth ever came to light. None of this would have happened if Kelsey Stafford had not played cute and thrown had her thrown into Danvers. Would justice actually be served by putting someone like Asia in prison? It was noticeable that throughout this entire conversation she had not confirmed anything that Ed had told her. Until she did that, or he found that she had slipped up in some other manner it was all just speculation and conjecture on his part. He knew in his bones that she was guilty, but proving it was an entirely different matter.

“At the end of the day Miss Lawniczak we have to live with ourselves” Ed said, “I would suggest that you never set foot in the United States again.”

“I have no desire to ever go back to that wretched country” Asia said as she got up. “Have a good day Agent O’Neal.”

Ed supposed that went about as well as it could have as he watched Asia walk away. Supposedly, Sven Werth had told Heinz Kissinger that no one was above the Law and threatened to arrest him making Werth the hero of the hour. The Chancellor was currently an unpopular figure who had been considered to be on his way out anyway. This incident had sped up the process of Kissinger being forced to resign, so now Germany was about to have a General Election. If by then Ed was in a position to ignore all of it, then he would be perfectly happy.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred



21st July 1978

Langeoog, East Frisian Islands

Kat was sitting on the porch of her house on the beach watching as Asia and her son Heinrich, or Henri as he liked to be called, were walking along the tideline with Kris. Kat was a bit astonished that Henri was going to be turning fifteen next week, it made Kat wonder where the years went. As far as Kat tell he was a normal enough teenager with an interest in girls, cars, and football in no particular order. Asia and Kris had been nudging him towards going to University, but despite having never really known his father, Ludwig von Hesse, Henri was considering a few other options.

Anne, Judita, and Lenni had arrived the night before with Lenni and Anne’s respective children further disrupting things in the beach house. That was much to the annoyance of Marie Alexandra whose hope had been a couple of peaceful weeks on Langeoog before the horde of vacationers arrived at the start of the official holiday season next month. She really liked it here during the off-season weekdays when she had the whole beach more or less to herself. Now Marie was having to put up with a full house.

The impromptu reunion of Kat’s girls had been unplanned, but having everyone free came so rarely these days so they had seized the opportunity. This had come on the heels of Asia’s announcement this week that she was resigning from being an Instructor for the BND Academy in Falkensee and would no longer be Mistress of the Keys of the Imperial Court. She had told Freddy and Suga that the events of the prior days were proof to her that she was no longer effective in the role that she had played for so long, probably too long when it came down to it. They needed to find new Mistress of the Keys who had a better understanding of the times they were living in. There had been a mole in the highest levels of the Government and like so many others she had not seen what should have been painfully obvious. Suga had been a bit put out by that development having only recently gotten the Maid of the Chamber, Kat’s daughter Marie, living in the same time zone even if it was only for a couple months. There was talk about trying to call Gia, but Kat knew that she spent her summers at her house in the Trans-Baikal specifically because it was impossible to reach her there.

Kris had told Anne that it was probably for the best because Asia letting that part of her life go. A few months earlier Asia had told Kris something that she had not told anyone. About how Doctors and Orderlies at Danvers had total control of her, and what they had done was just unspeakable. Asia had described what the electroshock had been like, how it felt like she had died a thousand times. Yet it had been afterwards, when she had escaped from that hellish place that the most devastating thing had been learning that rescue had come at the cost of everything that Asia had loved most for the second time in her life. It had been her role in the Court of the Empress and her connection with the BND that had taken so much from her. From what Kat had seen, while Asia hadn’t necessarily found happiness, there was an acceptance of her past. Perhaps Kris was correct about these things.



Pusan, Korea

“I thought that the First Division got this guy last year?” Erich said as the briefing concluded.

This was a briefing of the Leutnants and Senior Noncoms of the Company now that they had finally received the orders that they had been waiting for. A self-styled Pirate King had been operating out of the Riau Archipelago as well as the Northern Coasts of Borneo and Java. Apparently, he had been causing trouble for the British and the Dutch for years. It had been his indiscriminate raiding of shipping through the Malacca Strait that had brought German involvement, though during the briefing, Hauptmann Dunkel had mentioned that pretty much everyone in the region wanted this guy to become very dead, the sooner the better, and this time they wanted to see a corpse. The High Seas Fleet was sending a strong element of the Pacific Squadron and that included Erich’s Company to help make that happen.

“Some cockroaches are really good at avoiding getting stomped on” Karl said. That was probably the most apt description for what would probably be less a pirate hunt and more of an anti-partisan campaign in the islands of the South Seas. While the Hauptmann hadn’t spelled it out explicitly, this would probably keep them busy for a considerable amount of time.

“And what are we supposed to do with our American problem?” Erich asked. Erich’s Platoon still had the American Gunnery Sergeant attached to it. Not that Erich found the American to be a bad guy, he just wasn’t sure how much he wanted Tyrone Lee around if they were in the field and things got hairy.

“Let him see” Karl replied, “He is here to observe and in this case our superiors want him doing exactly that. In the spirit of International Cooperation, of course.”

There was a round of laughter about that.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred One



26th July 1978

Langeoog, East Frisian Islands

The weekend prior Marie Alexandra had found that she had her mother and all the Little Birds along with their children present at the beach house. The result had been a scene of complete chaos. She had been hoping for a bit of quiet once they had left only to have Henriette show up with Alice and Sabastian the next. Marie knew that she probably should have been a bit put out because Henriette had not told her that she was coming from Montreal, but as she watched Henriette and Alice’s interactions with Sabastian, Marie knew that this was one of those situations that she understood wasn’t about her. There was also the consideration that Henriette had gone out of her way to visit her when to Marie’s regret, she had no idea that her friend was even in the country. There were also the profound cultural differences that were a shock to Henriette’s sensibilities. That was something that Marie had actually joked about for years, now having Henriette there in person sort of killed the humorous angle.

Then just as things were settling down again, Suga happened.

It was lucky that Marie had gone to Wilhelmshaven a few days earlier to restock the pantry and the Empress’ advance team had brought some additions of their own. Having Suga show up for luncheon or tea with nothing on hand would have been the sort of faux pas that Marie would have been crucified over.

This wasn’t the first time that an Empress had come to the house on Langeoog. There had been the awkward visit by then Empress Kira before Marie had been born that had become family lore. Marie remembered a number of times when Empress Charlotte had come for informal meetings with Marie’s mother. This was, however, the first time that an Empress had come to the East Frisian Islands looking for Marie specifically. Not that there was any trouble with that. Henriette’s presence was a complication. Marie having told Suga in the past about how serious the relationship was between her and Sabastian. Suga’s thinking was that Sabastian’s father was a Markgraf no matter how rough his personal origins were. That meant that Suga took a considerable interest in just who Henriette was and had a whole lot of questions. How had she met Sabastian? Was Henriette still attending University? How old was Alice? Was Alice looking forward to starting school?

While the Empress went out of her way to keep things light, Suga was keeping it to questions where she could read between the lines rather than delving into uncomfortable topics directly. Marie was acutely aware that it was very much a job interview. She had been introduced to Empress Kira just a few hours after her birth, so there had never been a time when she had not been a part of that world. That was why it had been an easy choice to be Kammerfräulein, the highest-ranking Maid of Honor in the Imperial Court. Henriette didn’t seem to realize what was happening. For her the Imperial Court was something from a movie set in the Eighteenth Century. That was when Suga invited Henriette to the upcoming quarterly meeting of the Order of Louise.

The Charlottenburg Palace where that meeting took place was as close to a time machine as Marie had ever encountered. Those who were at that meeting in the grand ballroom might as well be in the Eighteenth Century. Henriette had no idea what a lion’s den that was and that they needed to carefully consider Suga’s motivations.



Blue Ridge International Airport, Fairfax County, Virginia

Martin Paget was waiting in the International Departures section waiting for the Lufthansa flight that would take them home. There had not been a great deal of fanfare surrounding their repatriation after the midair collision that had destroyed their plane along with the Interceptor that had accidentally entered the dangerous wing vortices that the long wings of a Gänsegeier Reconnaissance plane generated. That was probably a blessing. Martin had never learned what had happened to the American Pilot, but he could only imagine what his counterparts in the US Navy would have had to say after they had fished him out of the Atlantic, if that was what had happened.

Even though they were not supposed to be interrogated beyond the crash investigation. Their time aboard the USS Saratoga had not been particularly enjoyable. JoJo had the worst time of it by far though. Finding herself as a German woman aboard a ship with thousands of Sailors whose minds had been corrupted by all sorts of stupid notions that had been spread by American pornographers was a particular sort of Hell. She had spent the entire time locked in a stateroom that was normally used by an Admiral if one had been aboard. Martin, Poldi, and Rochus had been shoved into what could only be assumed to normally be part of the Junior Enlisted Quarters if the general lack of cleanliness and the smell were anything to judge by. Poldi had made it clear that unless US Naval Intelligence was completely incompetent then there were probably listening devices about. So they had avoided conversation right up until the Saratoga had docked at Norfolk, that was where they had been greeted by a team from the Embassy. Martin recalled that there had been a man who came across like every other BND flunky that he had ever met who had fading bruises on his face and an arm in a cast. When Martin had asked what had happened to him, one of the other staffers had said “She wasn’t satisfied with merely telling him no.”

Now, Martin was finally returning to Germany and an uncertain future.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred Two



29th July 1978

Pusan, Korea

Night had fallen and the German Marines had thrown together a massive bonfire to celebrate their impending deployment. Tyrone Lee could hear them singing drunkenly as they were blowing off steam ahead of what would probably be several weeks at sea. The song was unfamiliar and in a language that Lee didn’t understand.

It had been Lee’s assumption that the men who surrounded him were like the Rock & Roll Warriors back home in San Diego. Totally balls out and flipping the bird at anyone who dared to get in their way. Many times though they managed to prove how foreign they actually were. There was a book for example that he had seen being read by several of the men whose title translated to The Front Dog or something like that. When Lee had asked about it, he had been told that it had been written by Field Marshal Dietrich “Tilo” Schultz about his experiences in the ranks of the Marines going from Vietnam to the Russian Far East, Korea, and eventually on to the Imperial Palace of Japan.

When Lee had read it, he had discovered that it wasn’t just about the battles though Tilo had been there for plenty of those. Instead, it was about how he had found meaning and perspective during those years spent far from home. That was hardly a surprise to Lee, he had seen many boys become men in the Corps. The part that was strange was the ethos that Tilo articulated. The German Marines were scum. One step removed from the prison or lunatic asylum, and proud of it, but that didn’t mean that was all they had to be. Tilo freely admitted that prior to getting conscripted as a University Student he had been a selfish little shit in need of a good ass-kicking. It had been getting shoved into the Marines had enabled him to become a scholar and an explorer. Stop and smell the roses, get to know the cultures and languages. “Go native” as it were in a way that the US Marine Corps strongly discouraged their men from doing.

Looking around, Lee had realized that he was surrounded by men who that had an influence on. They were the 3rd Marine Infantry Division, Tilo’s own outfit. No mater where they went they were always home because whatever dirt happened to be under their feet was Germany and they were prepared to fight to the death for it as the Chinese had learned on Nightmare Ridge. They were getting ready to prove that again as they were preparing to fight against pirates in the South China Sea and the East Indies.

“One last night” Karl Dunkel said, startling Lee because he had not heard him approach. “Something that has become an unofficial tradition.”

Lee knew that Captain Dunkel, despite his relatively low rank at the moment was someone who the German Navy expected a great deal from in the future. Erich Raeder had mentioned that when he had been a Cadet at Mürwik, Dunkel had been there at the same time though he had been far older than most of the cadets. Back in the States they would have called that getting sent to finishing school, basically checking boxes as a formality so that no one would question a Mustang Officer’s Commission. This trip to the South Seas would further burnish his record after a successful operation in Anatolia that Lee had heard about.

“Any idea what the song is about?” Lee asked.

Dunkel looked amused.

“You don’t have Eurovision in the United States” Dunkel replied, “That is a Norwegian drinking song that was a runner up a few years ago. It’s all about the little aggravations in life and one solution anyway.”

As they listened, what must be the chorus came around again.

“Let’s drink the liquor, and wiser we shall be” Dunkel said, translating the words. “Reality can be cruel, when you are sober.”

That was enough to remind Lee that whatever else they were. These were still Marines.

“Thank you, Sir” Lee replied.

Dunkel just shrugged and walked off.

The Captain was followed by Hauptfeldwebel Nguyen. While Lee didn’t have an opinion about the German tradition of having a Senior Noncommissioned Officer acting as a direct assistant and/or administrator for the Company and its Commander, he did about Nikolaus Nguyen himself. Apparently the German Marines did a bit more than smell the flowers wherever they went. A man with a Vietnamese last name and features, who also had a German first name, blue eyes and was born during the Pacific War told a story. He wasn’t alone either. There were several of the German Marines with similar backgrounds from Vietnam, South Africa, Mexico, and wherever else the Marines had been over the prior decades. When Lee asked about it he got the same response. They were welcome and if they had the wherewithal to get to a Recruit Depot then they were perfectly welcome to join their ranks. It had also been pointed out that over the next couple decades there were probably going to be a number of recruits from Korea and Argentina.

Turning his attention back to the men surrounding the bonfire, Lee considered exactly what he was going to put all of this in his report back to Naval Intelligence about all of this. He had already seen a lot of things had would probably cause a few blowups in the halls of the Pentagon. The one question that had gone unanswered though was why exactly were the powers-that-be behind the German 3rd Marine Division tolerating Lee’s presence?

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred Three



30th July 1978

Langeoog, East Frisian Islands

There was a poster on the wall in the Institute of Gender, Sexuality, and Feminist Studies at McGill which was from an advertising campaign from a couple decades earlier. It was advertising campaign mostly involving vacations at Glacier National Park in Montana and Airstream trailers. In it you had the father, played the actor Gregory Peck, making fried egg sandwiches for the kids while the mother was sleeping in. See, a vacation for everyone. The scene was incredibly wholesome, and there had been a number of comments written on the margins of the poster about what various passersby had thought. They ranged from ribald to just opinions about what was being depicted. The Professor it belonged to said the it was there because it was one of the few times that an advertiser actually got the message correct.

Henriette had thought a bit about that poster as she had watch Sabastian doing his best with Alice. Unfortunately for him, Alice was not always inclined to be cooperative in the manner of small children everywhere. Today, it was because the weather had shifted, and they had woken up to grey clouds and rain. Alice had decided that she wanted to go down to the beach. Henriette telling her that if she got cold and wet she would be miserable. Not only was Henriette rather roundly ignored, but it also seemed that telling Alice she needed to stay in had rather the opposite effect. Sabastian volunteered to go down to the tide line with Alice, telling Henriette that his sisters had been the same way. She would see that there wasn’t a whole lot to do, and they would come back in short order. Besides, Marie’s younger foster sisters, Sophie, and Angelica, were coming from Berlin that afternoon and Sophie’s dog Sprocket loved children.

Henriette could see the bright orange rain poncho that Sabastian had insisted that Alice wear from the covered back porch as they walked up the beach. She could hear movement in the house, suggesting that Marie Alexandra had finally decided to get out of bed. It was very noticeable that Marie was very different here. Far less guarded, free with her opinions, doing things that Henriette found outrageous. Sabastian just shrugged and he said that it was just Marie being Marie, and she’ll move on to something else soon enough. When Sabastian said that it drove home that along with Marie’s cousin Nikolaus, the three of them had grown up together in basically the same household, which had made closer to each other than to their actual siblings. There was little that Marie could do that would surprise him.

The rain increased in tempo and Henriette noticed that Sabastain and Alice were running back to the house, he must have challenged her to race him back to the house. Sabastian had told Henriette that spending time with the two of them was a welcome break from what seemed like everyone in his life pushing him to train for Moscow in a couple years. He had won a Silver Medal in Montreal, and it was expected that after having had four years to mature as an athlete Sabastain would be able to dominate the Decathlon. He had told Henriette the truth though, that he knew that regardless of how he actually did in Moscow he would be going against the best in the world, so the idea of him dominating that competition of was laughable. That was why it was obvious that he was clearly pacing himself as Alice ran ahead of him a big grin on her face. Henriette had no idea if Sabastian even knew what a fried egg sandwich even was, but it was moments like this that were certainly in the spirit of what was depicted on that poster.



Washington DC

By treaty, every time a world power conducted a Nuclear Readiness Drill they had to inform the other signatories. At least the Germans had decency to have left out what it had been that caused that action in the first place this time. Nixon had a feeling that if the world ended tomorrow, it would be because someone screwed up in exactly the manner that things had only to have things spiral beyond everyone’s control. As it was, the German Navy had put to sea before they had even been able to confirm that they had mobilized. Nixon was of the opinion that the fact that there had not been a traffic jam at the mouth of the Jade Bight suggested an incredible amount of planning and a flawless execution. Still, it wasn’t the surface fleet that was the issue. The main German deterrence was the elusive Ballistic Missile Submarines. Just one of those could completely destroy the entire Eastern Seaboard which was why the US Navy had invested heavily in Anti-Submarine Warfare over the last two decades and were the real thing that kept Defense Planners awake at night. They had grown extremely good at coming and going from Bremerhaven or Wismar without anyone being the wiser.

Worse of all, the source of information that the CIA had enjoyed within the German Government seemed to have dried up. They denied that it had anything to do with a key aide of the Chancellor blowing his brains out while resisting arrest, but by now Nixon had a fairly good idea about how they operated. So he knew that they would never admit that their source had evaporated in a highly public manner.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred Four



31st July 1978

Riesengebirge National Park, Giant Mountains

For Sepp the irony was rather biting that he had made it into University, only to find himself shoved right back into everything he had worked for most of the last decade to avoid. Working under the hot summer sun with either a shovel or picking up garbage like he was today. The only difference was that he had been given a green denim uniform, a pair of stout boots, and told that like the others in his group he was Forester Candidate for the duration of his volunteer service this summer. As soon as he learned that Sepp knew that he’d been had when he had signed up at the career office back at the University. That had also been right about the time he’d made his introduction to Senior Ranger Mirek Stumpf, who had apparently lived in these mountains for most of his life and he made very clear that he had little use for civilization.

A few weeks earlier there had been a major military readiness drill and Stumpf had nothing good to say about the soldiers who had spent a few days in these same mountains. Empty ration tins, candy wrappers, cigarette butts, along with a staggering array of other loose garbage had been left behind in all but the most remote and hard to reach areas of the National Park. Stumpf had said that he had considered complaining to the Heer and getting their men to come clean up the mess, but he suspected that would prove to be the opposite of actually solving the problem. Picking up a can and shoving it into one of the large clear plastic bags they had brought with them today Sepp thought about how his life had come to this. It couldn’t be an accident that bags made slacking off next to impossible by their very nature and Sepp had been told that he needed to fill at least five of the cursed things by sunset. He suspected that Dieter was going to laugh his head off when he learned about this.

At that very moment, Didi was probably swimming in the lake in the Spreewald at the camp they had both attended years earlier. A sunburn and possibly falling into the thornbushes were the worst that anyone needed to worry about there. Barring an act of divine intervention or cosmic level stupidity, Sepp had no reason to believe that Hagen was anywhere but Neustrelitz. Too stupid to realize that life was passing him by while those his silence benefited probably didn’t care in the least. Doctor Ott, whose presence in Sepp’s home had greatly increased over the months since Pop had died, had warned him that some people don’t want to be saved, and that Hagen needed to be able be make his own choices. Even in Hagen’s current predicament.

Sepp wasn’t stupid. He knew what was going on, that his mother was human, and that his father had been appalling in both that role and as a husband. It was inevitable that she would find someone new almost from the instant they finished with the funeral. Of all the men on the planet though, why did it have to be Thomas Ott? Sepp thought to himself as he shoved what looked like a shredded shelter half into the bag, trying not to think about what the scenario that would have resulted in a shredded shelter half must have been.



Off Tsushima Island

Leaning on the rail and looking off the starboard bow, Erich could see the SMS Ozelot in the distance. She was the lead ship of the flotilla that had set out from Pusan that morning. Two Corvettes, the SMS Ozelot and the SMS Weißer Thun would provide the heavy firepower. The SMS Cuxhaven, which Erich was presently on, and the SMS Eckernförde, were what had been dubbed “Amphibious Assault Ships” which meant that they carried several Companies of Marines in somewhat better accommodation than their predecessors in the Pacific War were part of it along with a number of smaller boats that were well suited for what surprises were ahead of them.

It seemed like a lot for a self-styled Pirate King, or it could just be an excuse to get a Regiment out of Pusan for a few months. Erich figured that both were equally likely. Regardless though, someone had really pissed somebody off and no one was taking chances this time. There were also rumors, because of course there always those, that everyone with a grudge against the Empire was funding these people to tie down a substantial amount of resources in the South China Sea. The British, Americans, Russians, and even the Chinese were to blame according to those rumors. Even as divided as China was these days, China remained the Big Bad in this region and everyone else had reason to maintain the status quo. The Japanese and Dutch were already in this fight, so the more the marrier.

For Erich it was just as well that he was getting out of Pusan. His father’s urging him to leave the Marine Infantry had grown more pointed in recent letters. There was growing concern as to what was going to happen to him and what he was going to do to the family name in the process. Yes, the Marine Infantry were a part of the Navy, but everyone knew what they actually were. According to Erich’s father the people at the Yacht Club were starting to talk…

Erich stopped reading and started to wonder if his father had always been a stuck up, selfish prick and he was just noticing it now? In disgust, he wadded up the paper and threw it over the side. It eventually hit the water and Erich watched it until it disappeared in the distance.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two thousand Seven Hundred Five



7th August 1978

Trim, County Meath, Ireland

Waiting in the pews of Saint Patrick’s Cathedral on a weekday was always an odd experience. Despite him being family, there were some places on the Church Grounds where it would be inappropriate for him to go when he visited.

Just that morning Jack had read an opinion piece in a newspaper lamenting the collapse of the Catholic Church as a moral authority in Ireland. That Ireland had lost something in the process, just becoming another European country among others. Of course, Jack was of a different opinion. The deep wounds that the Church had suffered in Ireland and elsewhere were self-inflicted, the result of an abuse of the trust placed in it by the Irish people. It hadn’t just been the scandals in the West Counties that Jack had helped uncover years earlier. The rupture had started years earlier when the Catholic hierarchy had taken sides during the Second Rising in 1918 and the Civil War that followed. If Jack had been advising them at the time he would have told them that denouncing Communism in the midst of a revolution was probably a stupid idea, especially if your side lost. It wasn’t an accident that Michael Collins had placed several lines in the Irish Constitution that were meant to undermine the authority of the Church. Eventually those would lock together into what could only be described as Thomas Jefferson style Wall between Church and State. The moral and fiscal scandals had only served to speed up that process. Apparently, it had been Collins’ intention that everyone would figure this out long after his death, but it had almost played out during his lifetime.

Catholicism remained a part of the culture of the country, but the empty pews on Sundays told the actual story. How did they think that the rampant sex abuse that they were hiding was going to go over? The mistreatment of young mothers with unexpected children had only started the ball rolling. It had been those same children who had been the source of countless other scandals. Then while all that had been in the process of coming out the leadership of the Church in Ireland had the nerve to say they were broke when they finally had several large legal judgements against them that they were unable to squirm their way out of. No one believed that, not even for a second.

Jack had been present for most of those events and there were some people who blamed him for his defense of Sibéal Ó Caoimh causing the first of the large scandals. The fact that her son Aiden had been neglected until his died and then his body was then thrown into a septic tank out back along with dozens of others was too big to ignore. Learning that the Nun who Sibéal had stabbed when she had tried to find her son had pocketed the money that was meant for the burial of any of the unfortunates in her care who had died was just the icing on the cake.

Last year, a sleazy British television tabloid had somehow tracked Sibéal down to her home in Nova Scotia. It seemed that her husband and adult children had taken extreme exception to having her unwillingly dragged back into the limelight. It seemed that the Anchorman had not realized that Fishermen in Nova Scotia were typically not the sort you wanted to mess with and had been considered lucky that Sibéal’s son Seán had rewarded his shouted questions with a broken jaw. As a defense Jack would have argued that the Anchorman not only have it coming but considering that Seán had inherited his Scottish father’s height north of six feet and was two hundred odd pounds of muscle. He must have somewhat checked the swing because the blow had broken only the Anchorman’s jaw and not taken his whole head off. As it was, Jack had found out about it well after the fact and by then Seán had plead guilty to Disorderly Conduct and had been given twenty hours of Community Service. Taking “at risk” youth fishing was hardly a hardship for Seán, according to Sibéal when they had talked.

Besides all that history, Jack didn’t hate the Catholic Church. There were some things that did better than most other organizations that Jack knew of. He remembered that as he saw a figure enter the Cathedral, despite the Nun’s habit she was wearing she still skipped like a schoolgirl when she thought no one was looking. “Jack” Rosemarie said with a smile when she saw Jack sitting there. His younger sister’s learning disabilities and epilepsy had been a source of embarrassment for their father. Her suddenly having a “Religious vocation” as she came of age had been a move by Jack and his younger brother Bobby and had been the only way they could think of to protect her from Joe Senior shortly before Jack had left to join the Irish International Regiment to fight the Soviets. Jack had secretly been working for the British SOE but that was irrelevant. Back in the United States and later in Ireland, it had been the various convent schools who’d had the time and patience to truly help Rosemarie. Oddly, of all his family Rosemarie had the happiest outcome from their unexpected exile to Ireland after that Spanish mess.

“I dreamed you were coming today” Rosemarie said happily as she sat down next to Jack.

“I come the first and third Mondays every month” Jack replied.

“I know” Rosemarie said, “How are Jackie and Sean?”

“Jackie is starting University and Sean is doing well” Jack replied. Rosemarie loved to hear about her niece and nephew.

“Marie, the girl I told you about is coming to live in Dublin this month” Jack said.

“The Princess of Berlin” Rosemarie said with a smile. “She sounds interesting.”

“She hates it when people to call her that” Jack replied. He was having trouble trying to figure how people in Dublin were going to react to Marie Blackwood. They always imagined her as this bigger-than-life figure, but the reality was that you could walk through an otherwise empty room and not see her.

“Now what is Teddy up to?” Rosemarie asked as she looked towards the front of the Cathedral, before pulling a well-thumbed deck of cards from a pocket. For whatever reason the other Sisters in the Convent frowned on her love of Gin-Rummy. Every time Jack visited she wanted to play a few hands while they talked.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred Six



11th August 1978

Mitte, Berlin

The birth of Irina had radically changed things for Zella. While she still pursued her stories, having an infant daughter at home meant that she had good reason to at least try to keep regular hours and stay close to Berlin. She had been able to maintain that for a long time, but with Yuri kept incredibly busy by ARD and was frequently out of town covering the very sort of stories that she would have once covered that had grown untenable. As mid-summer had rolled around Zella had felt increasingly trapped and there had been growing anxiety. Finally, Yulia had said that she would mind Irina so that she could go spend a night to herself. Zella had taken her up on that with the intention to see a few live acts and perhaps having a little fun.

Friday night at the V8 Club had always been wild. Lately though there had been a revival of the Gutter Blues scene that had defined the City of Berlin in the 50’s. Directly influenced by Chicago Blues and the Gypsy Jazz movement, Gutter Blues was a stripped-down interpretation that had appealed with the Hotrod and Student Culture of Berlin at the time. By the time Zella had come of age that scene had long since passed as Gutter Blues had evolved into the Rock & Roll scene that she remembered as a teenager.

There was a joke about how the difference between a Rock Guitarist and a Jazz Guitarist was that a Rock Guitarist plays three cords for a thousand people while a Jazz Guitarist plays a thousand cords for three people. By the back half of the 70’s that was no longer true. Bloated productions that seemed to owe more to Broadway Musicals than to anything Rock & Roll had grown fashionable, probably because of a whole lot of the wrong sort of drugs if Zella had to guess. The revival of the Gutter Blues seemed like the logical sort of reaction. Sarah Schmitt had told her all about how there had been an attempt to put on one of those big shows a few months earlier in the V8 Club and it had not ended well with the members of the band fleeing the stage after the Singer was hit in the face with a flying beer glass when they finally had a chance to talk between bands. Ian Kilmister, who had probably been among those throwing the beer glasses had been quietly listening to them talk had laughed. He had been doing his level best to drink the Club’s entire stock of Jack Daniel’s, so he was already half in the bag.

As it had turned out, talking to Sarah had been exactly what Zella had needed.

The current owner of the V8 had understood exactly what Zella had been talking about when she had recently discovered that her motorcycle had been covered in cobwebs. That she had needed to pay a mechanic to change all the fluids, oil, coolant, and hydraulic, at considerable cost because it had sat in the garage unused for so long. “That was sort of what happened when I had Johann” Sarah said, “Though you aren’t having your little girl growing up on the back of a motorcycle.” That was a reminder that Sarah had raised her son in the top floor apartment of the building that the V8 Club was located in. Johann had grown up surrounded by the Berlin Music Scene. Of course, when he started University he had not been interested in music. Not playing it anyway. He had taken Business Management and Accounting courses. So, not only had been able to put the finances of the V8 Club in order but had taken over the management of a few other clubs and bars elsewhere in Berlin. This was helped by Sarah suddenly coming into a great deal of money, there were certainly enough rumors about how that had happened.

Then Sarah had given Zella a book as a gift.

It was a copy of John Elis’ autobiography. Full of glossy photographs from John’s early days as a bank robber, his daring escape from a supposedly inescapable prison, and the V8 Club from its opening in the 30’s. Zella was shocked that it frankly mentioned John’s involvement with Abwehr during the Soviet War, Juan Pujol-Garcia, Sarah’s father, and so much more.

“Look at this wild child” Sarah said showing Zella a photograph in the book of her when she had been a teenager sitting at the bar laughing at a joke told by Ringo Star with Elis in the background. It had turned out that Zella had been mentioned quite a bit in the later chapters.

“You were quite the dish back then” Ian said looking at the photograph. “How come you didn’t have the fellas lined up?”

“There were rumors back then that Marci here played for the away team’s side” Sarah said, “And for guys who still didn’t take ‘not interested’ for an answer, ask Brian Jones what happened.”

It wasn’t general knowledge, but Sarah really did ‘play for the other team’s side’ and she had known full well the truth about Zella in those days. Still, she had been doing her best to keep Zella, who had been frightfully naïve, safe with the help of Elis who had apparently been in communication with Zella’s father.

“That fuckwit?” Ian asked, “I’m surprised no one has ever stomped him to death, God knows he’s been askin’ for it for ages.”

“Marci’s father came close” Sarah replied, “Apparently he… awe fuck.”

Zella and Ian turned to look at what Sarah was looking at.

The lead singer from the band Mythology had recently been given the boot after his destructive habits, excesses, and various addictions had grown too much even for that band. The Americans referred to situations like that as getting a speeding ticket at the Indianapolis 500. Word was that he had recently completed drug rehab, but here he was apparently on pub crawl through Berlin where no one really knew him on sight. With the exception of those like Sarah who had been dealing with him for years.

“You need another drink like I need a hole in my head” Sarah said as Ozzy staggered up to the bar and sat on the stool.

“That mean you ain’t serving me?” Ozzy asked to Sarah who just went to serve a different customer.

“I’d say that means a rather firm no” Ian said.

“Who the Hell are you?” Ozzy demanded before his attention was turned to Zella. “Heard you were here Z, hoping to start a new band. Have you work your magic, get it known.”

“Do even you have band Oz?” Zella asked.

“One step at a time, you know” Ozzy replied.

So he had gotten something out of rehab, Zella thought to herself.

“All I need is a Drummer and a Bass player” Ozzy said, “Arsehole Guitarists are a dime a dozen.”

That confirmed to Zella the rumors about who had led the charge in sacking Ozzy. Ian heard that and laughed. He had his own dealings with the music industry. With that the next band started playing and further conversation was next to impossible without yelling. As Zella watched the band play, thinking about the column she was going to write about it if she could interest the BT or the Mirror in publishing it, she saw that Ian and Ozzy were already acting as if they were old friends rather than having only met minutes earlier. Men, she thought with a bit of exasperation. There was no way that two women would do that.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred Seven



12th August 1978

Potsdam

The situation that Gerta found herself in on a creative level was an embarrassment of riches which wasn’t something that she could say about her family over the last couple years. She had funded what had gone on to become some of the highest grossing films in box office history, then she had started having issues with errant Directors who challenged audiences who only wanted to be entertained.

George Lucas had concluded the Star Wars trilogy two years earlier and it was because of that that the Studio was a bit leery of giving him a free hand after how he had done that. The idea that Luke Skywalker, the key hero of those films would be forced to watch as the Rebel Alliance, dangerously exposed because they had been forced into battle to prevent a second Death Star Battle Station from becoming operational had been goaded into a deadly trap. The meaning of the dark vision he’d had in the prior movie about all paths leading to a singularity. One way or another, Luke’s final defeat of the Emperor and Vader would come at a massive cost, even if he won his battle against Vader and ended the rein of the Emperor all he would do is become their replacement. The cycle that had gone on for eons and plunged the galaxy into endless tides of bloodshed and destruction had to end.

Lucas’ use of Buddhist and Biblical analogies should have made what was coming rather clear. The very first words said on the screen by Darth Vader, about how the ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force. It was neatly bookended by showing what that actually looked like. Samson bringing down the pillars of the temple was what came to mind. Using the Force, Luke Skywalker triggered the destruction of Death Star with himself on it as a mortally wounded Darth Vader and Emperor Palpatine who seconds earlier had been gloating about his final triumph were unable to stop him… Leaving theaters with audiences completely shocked by what they were seeing. Somehow Lucas had kept that twist secret during the months leading up its release. The ending was consistent with the philosophies that Lucas had been pushing all along, in nature there were times when everything had to burn down to achieve balance and that was what had been depicted.

The Raiders of the Lost Ark had been a welcome change because it was exactly the sort of popcorn film that the Studio wanted but even then Gerta had needed to rein George Lucas in on a few of his excesses. The trouble was that Lucas was being cagey with the Studio again and they were demanding that Gerta get some answers even if she had to fly to California again. Her hope was that it wouldn’t come to that. The San Francisco Bay Area in August was one of the worst climates she had ever encountered. There was the damp chill of the City itself and Marin County, while it was over forty degrees just a few kilometers further inland. There was no way to adjust to any of that.



Raleigh, North Carolina

Sophie had finished the race third overall. It was her worst finish in ages, and she didn’t care. Sitting in her hotel room with the air conditioning on full blast, she was finally starting to feel as if she wasn’t going to fall over dead as she was laying on the bed staring at the ceiling. She had been excited to be invited to compete in the United States at the Women’s Bicycling Road Race National Championship this year, but she had seen the obvious problem almost from the instant the plane touched down and it had been enveloped in a cloud generated by the air disrupted by the airplane’s own wings. Basically it was so hot and humid that the plane was leaving a contrail on the ground.

Then Sophie had found out that the whole event was being billed by the Press as a rematch between her and Connie Carpenter. While she had considered Connie to be a rival, the way that Press was playing it up was absurd. They had placed great emphasis on her being the Co-Captain of the Black Eagles, the German Women’s National Cycling team. The coverage was so bad that they might as well have been playing Richard Wagner music accompanied by videos of Luftwaffe Fighter-Bombers doing practice runs. This was while Connie was shown as this wholesome All-American girl from the American Mid-West.

The race itself had been a farce with many of the competitors having to drop out due to the heat including two of Sophie’s teammates. In the end, the main event that everyone had been hoping for, the showdown between Sophie and Connie had not happened. Instead they had both finished the race without enough energy for any fanfare, Connie in second and Sophie in third behind a teenaged girl named Rebecca. For some reason the Press had not been particularly pleased with the outcome. Oddly, the few times they had talked Sophie had gotten the impression that Rebecca was a lot like her. Damaged… Sophie knew that she probably shouldn’t mention that to Kat unless she wanted to have Rebecca as a roommate, that was how she came across. Exactly the sort who Kat would take in.

There was a knock on the door and with a bit of annoyance, Sophie slid her legs off the bed and walked to the door. She saw that it was Connie standing in the hallway.

“Peace offering?” Connie asked as she held up a container of chocolate ice cream. “I liberated this from the kitchen downstairs.”

“I’m not about to turn that down” Sophie replied. She figured that this whole event was a massive disappointment for both of them. And the ice cream did sound good.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred Eight



14th August 1978

Riesengebirge National Park, Giant Mountains

“The road has to be shored up on that side” Sepp said, pointing at the side that was tilting down the slope. “And then the whole thing needs to be graded.”

Most of the Forester Candidates were University Students like he was. There was one key difference though. Sepp was the only one with experience working construction and he had discovered that it was something that had not made him popular. There had been other times where Sepp’s answers seemed to result in them having more work to do. The gravel road they were looking at was badly eroded by both Spring runoff and washboarding. Senior Ranger Strumpf had asked Sepp’s opinion about the road and probably knew what would need to be done before he had even asked the question. The issue was that many of the others thought that they would spend the Summer Holiday in the Riesengebirge doing… Well… It wasn’t exactly clear what many of them thought they would be doing, but the sort of hard work that they found themselves doing wasn’t a part of it.

The worst part was that they had been informed that if they chose to continue with National Service in some other capacity, then it would be counted as time in grade. No one in the University Career Office had seen fit to mention that part, that their involvement in the Forestry Service was like joining the Army. Sepp had asked Stumpf if that was true, shouldn’t there have been training involved? He had told Sepp that was saved for those who chose to stay in the Forestry Service once their volunteer service was over. Apparently, that actually happened.



Breslau, Silesia

The statue of Opa was on formal display in the Grand Atrium in the University's Richthofen Center. It was to be taken to the New Watchhouse in Berlin to join the Pantheon of the Realm’s Greatest Heroes in a few days. It was white marble and done in a Neo-Classical theme, which Mathilda wasn’t too thrilled with. Opa’s ancestors would have been among the worst enemies of Rome, but it was a tradition to depict the heroes this way and Mathilda accepted that it was probably one of the greatest tributes that could have been given to him.

That was why Mathilda had made a point of visiting every time she got a chance this summer while the statue was on display in Breslau. While she couldn’t imagine Opa wearing long robes of a Roman Statesman back when he had been alive or the laurel wreath on his head that was used to symbolize that he had been a King. The eagle perched on his shoulder was for the Luftwaffe while the bow he had in his hand and quiver on his back were for having been a hunter. It represented who he had been.

Once the statue arrived in Berlin it would join Scharnhorst, Bülow, Wolvogle, and Schmidt to stand opposite to Horst whose statue was to be placed there on the same day. Mathilda had been invited to the dedication but had not made up her mind as to if she would go. Berlin was so vast, and the crush of humanity was overwhelming. Breslau was a far smaller place with the nearby forests of Lower Silesia that was much more to Mathilda’s liking. There was also the balance in the character of the city between the Universities and the Garison. Many on the City Council dreamed of Breslau being mentioned in the same breath as Jena or Oxford as a center of Higher Learning. Unfortunately it was better known for Football hooliganism these days, especially whenever Munich came to town then the whole town went to war on behalf of the Charging Wisents of the Breslau Legion.

She had found that wearing her usual summer attire of what she had learned were called “peasant dresses” drew the wrong sort of attention from those who thought that she was some kind of country bumkin. Instead, she was wearing a pair of the American style “blue jeans” in the baggy men’s carpenter cut which had lots of pockets which was to Mathilda’s liking and a green and red Football jersey, the colors of the Breslau Legion which had been a gift from Uncle Hans. Mathilda supposed that was a sign that she wasn’t completely immune to the sort of passions that Football stirred up. Of course, Aunt Ilse seemed a bit too enthusiastic about her wearing clothes that were so unrevealing, practicality aside. Mathilda supposed that it was because Ilse had grown up in State Care where that was a matter of survival and a preview of what was ahead for Ingrid in the coming years.

“He was always very nice when I visited” Eddi said looking at statue. She had come with Mathilda this summer like she had over prior years.

“I suppose” Mathilda said, “I just wish I had known him when he was in his prime. Like they have here.”

The team of Artists who had sculped the statue had depicted Manfred von Richthofen as he had been when he had led the Luftwaffe in the 30’s and 40’s. In vigorous middle age. Ready to jump into the cockpit and go to war himself if it had come to it.

“You would have fancied him?” Eddi asked with a giggle.

“One of the few things that my father gets right is that there aren’t many real men around these days” Mathilda replied, “Proof that a stopped clock is right twice a day and what a massive hypocrite my father is.”

“You don’t talk about him much” Eddi said.

“Not much to talk about” Mathilda said, “Opa, and my brother Wulfstan, have never needed to do that sort of posturing.”

Eddi just shrugged. She was socially awkward and the thought of boys in general left her flustered.

“Aunt Ilse thinks that we are window shopping” Eddi replied, looking at her watch. “She’ll know if we try to mislead her.”

“How about we tell her the truth?” Mathilda asked.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred Nine



15th August 1978

Riesengebirge National Park, Giant Mountains

Rain was drumming on the canvas roof of the tent that Sepp was sleeping in most nights, just not tonight. He supposed that he ought to consider himself fortunate that the tent had been pitched on a raised wooden platform. Every few minutes there was a flash of lightening seen through the gap in the front tent flap, followed a few seconds later by the crash of thunder. The thunder had been what had woken Sepp up from an exhausted sleep, like most days he had gotten into the sleeping bag that was on a foam rubber pad that was neither thick or long enough as soon as he finished supper and slept until the sun came up. Tonight though a storm had blown in during the early morning hours and had woken him. He was aware that the other three guys in the tent were awake, but no one felt like talking.

The events of the prior day kept replaying in Sepp’s mind. How he had given his opinion when asked and it had been wrong. Senior Ranger Strumpf had shown him the work order that detailed what they were going to be doing yesterday afternoon and it was simply improving the drainage on the fire road by digging trenches across it, placing PVC pipe, and then filling in the trenches. Sepp’s suggestion would not only have been more work, but it would have been counterproductive. It seemed that whoever had come up their work assignments knew these things inside and out. Strumpf had told him not to sweat it over lunch when they had taken a break from work to eat the meal that had been comprised of military ration packs. Learning to read the instructions was a valuable lesson for Sepp to have learned no matter what he chose to do after he went back to the city.

To change the subject to something less annoying Sepp had pointed out the nature of what they were eating to Strumpf. If they were not in the Heer why were they eating Heer rations? Strumpf had just shrugged in reply. He told Sepp that the Forest Service had a foot in more than one of the Service Branches. In times of war their personnel were assigned to the Heer’s various Jager Corps having incredibly valuable bushcraft skills. That meant that every Candidate spent some time in Judenbach. They also sent their people to be trained by the Pioneers, Medical Service, Luftwaffe, and the Navy depending on the needs of the Service. If that was the case, Sepp had asked, why have a bunch of University Students up here in the mountains doing all this work as Forester Candidates. Strumpf had replied that it took at least five years to train a Forest Service Ranger and they didn’t have the resources for any but the most serious Candidates. Having them up here doing work that was valuable even if it was boring, was how they sorted out who was serious from who wasn’t. Sepp had asked how they knew who was serious and had been told that it all depended on who signed up next year. While Sepp might be less than thrilled by his lot at the moment, he might think about things differently next spring.

That left Sepp with a lot to think about as he saw another flash of light. Less than a second later, there was the crash of thunder as storm must have been almost right overhead.



Near Los Grutas, Reo Negro Province, Argentina

When Monique had agreed to travel to Argentina to tour the holdings of Richthofen family she had no idea what she was in for. She was expecting something like the Richthofen Estate that was extensive comprising of plots of land scattered across Silesia, Poland, and Galicia-Ruthenia. Instead, she had found that it was a vast ranch nearly the size of Bavaria comprised of sheep and cattle stations, and even included entire towns on the Patagonian Steppe. Everywhere they had gone over the last two weeks, Monique had watched as Niko had been greeted warmly as his father’s proxy. It seemed that having the Don’s son travel all the way from Germany to listen to them was a huge deal. Monique had been asked by Niko to talk to the other half of the people who would not be inclined to speak to him, wives, daughters, and mothers. It had been something that she had looked at with a bit of trepidation.

Then Monique found out what they thought of her.

Somehow word had reached this distant corner of Argentina that Monique was the granddaughter of Bishop Piers Sjostedt of the Lutheran Church and that she was studying Theology at the University of Flensburg. She wasn’t sure exactly how that would go over in an overwhelmingly Catholic country. They also knew that Monique was also Niko’s intended, which made them extremely curious about her. Finally she found out that by local standards she was considered extremely beautiful, which was a surprise. Monique had never seen herself as anything special in that regard.

Now after what must have been thousands of kilometers of dusty roads in the back of a VW Iltis that had been made for civilian use. They reached the house of a family friend of the Richthofens, Martzel Iberia. As the gate closed behind the Iltis, Monique saw that it was more of a fortress compound than a mere house. All the exterior walls of the buildings were white painted masonry and they had clay tile roofs. As they walked into the entry of the main house, Monique saw that they were being greeted like visiting royalty, then it occurred to her that was what Niko was. Don Martzel himself was there to greet them.

“I was sorry to hear about the passing of your grandfather” Martzel said as soon as he saw Niko, “He was a great man.”

That was something that had been said to Niko often as they had traveled though Argentina. Then Martzel turned his attention to Monique.

“And it is an honor to finally meet you Mónica” Martzel said, “I never got a chance to thank your grandfather for those socks I received during the Soviet War.”

That was something else that Monique had heard a lot, in some of the oddest corners of the world.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred Ten



18th August 1978

Charlottenburg, Berlin

The upcoming meeting of the Order of Louise was completely bewildering to Henriette. Not least bit because she’d had no idea that she would get invited to a formal event when she had left Montreal and had not packed anything remotely appropriate. Marie Alexandra had come to her rescue with an introduction to a man named Klaus Voll who had been more than happy to help. It seemed that Marie had known Voll for years and he had mentioned with obvious pride that he had helped mold the fashion sense of the new Emerald of Berlin. He had helped guide Henriette through the exclusive fashion houses of the City, places where she never would have set foot without the proper introductions. She also couldn’t help but notice a couple different things. The first was how everyone fell all over themselves to cater to Marie and the other was how there seemed to be no price tags.

“Henni, my dear girl, everyone knows that Marie Alexandra is the Queen in waiting” Voll replied when asked, “And if you have to worry about prices in a place like this then you cannot afford it.”

That gave Henriette pause until Voll told her that Marie’s mother was paying for all of this in return for being a dear friend of Marie when she had been alone in Montreal. That suddenly put some of the things that Marie had said over the last few years into context. Of course, Marie’s mother had money. While Henriette didn’t really understand the meaning of the title of Prefect, Katherine was the ruler of a City-State and a major creditor of the Kaiser himself.

“It’s a good thing that you are visiting love” Voll said, “Marie has not attended the summer gala of the Order of Louise in years, always having an excuse to be somewhere else. Suga has grown a bit cross about never seeing her Kammerfräulein.”

This wasn’t the first time that Henriette had heard that term. Over the summer she had been bewildered by the things that Marie did and didn’t object to. It was like if she was a completely different person when she had been in Montreal.

“Everyone who knows Marie has that reaction sooner or later” Voll said.

“What do you mean?” Henriette asked in reply.

Voll just smiled and Henriette had the sinking feeling that this was one of those times when the answer was obvious. No one really got to know Marie Alexandra, even the people closest to her.



Königsberg, East Prussia

“I understand that the Albertina has a wonderful Art School” The woman said looking at the sketchbook that Dalia had carelessly left open. “You must be studying there.”

A nagging voice in the back of her mind had said that going on to the University grounds today was a bad idea but Dalia had ignored it. It was a day off and she had been desperate to escape the oppressive grey that defined Königsberg though. The parklike university with the beautiful buildings with ivy covered walls and trees had been a welcome diversion. What Dalia had not known was that it was orientation day for students who were starting their studies that fall, so the campus which had been mostly abandoned over the Summer Holiday was very crowded.

Despite that Dalia had found a bench in a relatively quiet spot, removing her sketchbook and a set of well-worn set of pastels she had ignored the people around her as she had worked. The trouble was that they were not ignoring her. Several people had commented about the drawing she was doing of one of the buildings and then she had finally had enough she started putting her things into the oversized drawstring bag she used as a purse she had for that purpose.

“You don’t have to leave” The woman said as she turned the pages of the sketchbook. “These are quite good…”

Then the thing that Dalia feared most happened. The woman flipped to a page that Dalia wanted absolutely no one to see.

“What is this?” The woman asked.

It was one of Dalia’s sad attempts to prove, if only to herself, that she wasn’t stupid a few months earlier. She couldn’t read or write but she could draw, so she had tried to painstakingly draw each letter. It had not worked, and the result was awful, looking like a child’s scrawl. She had kept that page though it was a constant source of embarrassment.

“Nothing” Dalia said too fast as she panicked and tied her purse shut with a knot that she would have trouble untying later.

“Wait, you are forgetting your…” The woman said to Dalia’s back as she fled. Minutes later, she crossed back into her own neighborhood and the panic started to subside. It was only then that she realized that she had left her sketchbook with the woman. What was she supposed to do? Go back for it? She had no idea who that woman even was, so her sketchbook was basically gone. Beyond the irreplaceable drawings Dalia wouldn’t be able to get a new one until she had a day off, the store that sold art supplies was open and she had extra money. Who knew when that was going to happen? That was a situation that was intolerable.

Who was Dalia kidding? Everything about her life was intolerable.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred Eleven



19th August 1978

Tempelhof, Berlin

For years Bas had listened to Marie Alexandra complain that the meetings of the Order of Louise were like watching paint dry. That was why she had been looking for excuses to avoid attending herself. There was also another aspect that had caused Marie to be there tonight, namely how there was a definite pecking order among the members. As the daughter of one of the two Dame Commanders of the Order and being the highest-ranking Maid of the Imperial Court, Marie was someone who no one dared tangle with. Henriette was there as the guest of the Empress and was an unknown quantity, and a foreigner. So many of those who would be reticent to come after Marie might not be so constrained with Henriette.

Bas knew that was horseshit. Henriette had put her life back on track after experiencing the sort of difficulty that few among the gathered Ladies of the Order could even fathom. Bas’ mother had told him most of them thought that hardship was if the suite at the hotel resort in the Caroline Islands that they wanted was booked solid. The issues of being a single mother in a middle-class family was something that they couldn’t fathom. If any of them tried the sort putdowns and condescension that was a part of snobbery 101, they would discover that Henriette had been facing off with Margot Blackwood, the reigning Queen Bitch of Montreal, for years. So it would not end how they figured it would.

Bas himself had other considerations. He was minding Alice as Tante Kat’s house with the help of Sophie Sommers and Angelica de’ Medici, the two women in the house who were not invited to tonight’s events. Mostly it was a matter of keeping Alice from veering wildly between loosie goosey and zoomie in the manner of all small children. This wasn’t helped by the presence of Sprocket, Sophie’s little dog, who seemed to love everyone. Alice and Sprocket played a spirited game that involved chasing each other around the house and the back garden. There were no rules, but a lot of laughing, yelling, and barking were involved, much to the annoyance of everyone else in the house. Bas supposed that it could have been worse, his family had always had the Pitbulls his father favored, and Bas could remember playing the same game with them.

Finally, everyone had been ready to leave, and Bas had been awed by how Henriette looked when she took the effort. He couldn’t help but notice that Marie Alexandra had a fourth medal pinned to the left sleeve of her dress. A gold and white enamel Maltese cross on a purple bow with white stripes. Like most of the Women’s Chivalrous Orders, he wasn’t familiar with that one. Marie was also discussing with Henriette what would probably be the topics of discussion at the meeting. The latest gossip in the Imperial Court would probably be center on how Queen Marie Cecilie of Galicia-Ruthenia had given birth to twin sons whose names are Ferdinand and Jerrik. There was probably going to be some talk about the upcoming General Election, but Henriette should be very careful about who she brought that up with.

Marie was still talking about that as they were getting into the car, the same Mercedes Benz that Tante Kat had made a point of seizing from the estate of von Papen. She had kept the car in perfect mechanical condition and loved to have it be seen at public events, the sort where von Papen himself would see it on television. The minor detail that Franz von Papen had been dead for almost a decade seemed to have no impact on her thinking.

By the time they had supper, both Alice and Sprocket had tired themselves out. That was why it was hardly a surprise that Alice fell asleep on the couch sitting between Bas and Angelica while watching television. The show they were watching was a British Historical Comedy starring Rowan Atkinson as a young conscript trying to survive on the Arras Front and not lose his mind while the being in the process of losing the war. The humor was pitch black reflecting on subject matter. The surreal and absurd aspects were in keeping with Bas’ experience. Those were pretty much a given with most armies. Tangling with entrenched bureaucracy that saw you as the enemy because of this or that misspelled word and those above you seeming to not have the slightest clue as to what was really going on was not surprising. What the show did really well was tackling how reality seemed to take a back seat at times. Bas had seen that sort of thing often as his superiors had seemed more interested in him getting a gold medal in Moscow than he was. For him it was always about being able to compete and proving himself to be the best.

Bas must have fallen asleep himself because he woke up to hushed voices talking and a camera click. He later found out that those who had gone to the gala that night had come home to find Bas, Alice, and Sprocket sleeping in a heap on the couch. When Doug saw it, he went and got his camera. For Henriette that photograph was far more important for her than the meeting the of Order of Louise had been. She said that next time she would probably listen to Marie’s warnings about something being tedious and boring.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred Twelve



27th August 1978

Eagle Rock, Los Angeles, California

Rebuilding the Chrysler 440 Magnum engine from Frankenstein took far longer than Ritchie had thought it would. Finding parts for the big V8 was not the difficulty, it was finding the time. Over the last several months he had been called away. First to South America where he had been tasked with training Officers in the Chilean Army, or more precisely, what was left of it after the Argentinians got through with them. Then a few weeks after that he had been sent to Colombia and Bolivia to help the local forces fight the Guerrilla factions in the mountains. The ideology of those factions was something that Ritchie had trouble nailing down. Some were Langists, others were shockingly Stalinists, mostly it was just about being against whoever happened to be in charge in Bogotá or La Paz. They also seemed to spend a lot of time fighting among themselves. Not that the Central Governments in those two countries were much better.

It had been traveling to and from South America where Ritchie had crossed paths with Mario in Panama where he was with the Rangers. Ritchie knew better than to ask what his brother was up to down there. He just made the offer to talk with him over a beer or two once he got back from wherever the Army was sending him. He knew that it wasn’t mere happenstance that Spanish speakers in the US Army, Ritchie included, were spending a lot of time South of the Rio Grande these days.

The respite was working on Frankenstein which had been slowly coming together for months. The engine was on a stand and Ritchie had completely stripped down and sandblasted the body. that wasn’t quite as big a job as it sounded because the LAPD Mechanics had done a great deal of that work already when they had cannibalized Frankenstein for parts. He had put a coat of rattle can primer on it afterwards to help prevent rust should he have to leave it over the winter. Despite his principles, Ritchie was strongly leaning towards getting an estimate from Bobby’s friends down in TJ for the interior and paint. That would certainly save him a great deal of time, but before he made that decision he had the engine to consider.

The 440 Magnum that Ritchie was working on was brute force in action. When it had been Department Issue it had not been slow off the line, but that was with most everything stock. Ritchie had already made several aftermarket mods such as the new cams, carb, and the changes he had made to the induction would make even more of a beast. With that he had made a point of getting rid of the craptastic drum brakes that had had been standard and on more than occasion had made coming to a stop or slowing down a hair-raising experience when it had been Ritchie and Big Mike in the car. The fact that the kit for installing the much-improved disk brakes on the car had been so readily available spoke volumes.

All Ritchie needed was a few weeks to put it all together and get it working. The trouble was that there was always the chance that the phone might ring and then he would be off to South America, China, Ukraine, or God only knew where else. Most days he went to the office located in a hanger on the Los Alamitos Joint Training Base used as the Headquarters of Company C of the 1st Battalion of the 19th Special Forces Group. As a Warrant Officer he spent a great deal of time compiling reports on the regions he had been in that were to be sent to the Policy Makers in Washington DC and Sacramento. Lately he had been tasked with guiding a new Lieutenant whose prior experience had mostly involved attending West Point and a year or so spent in the 82nd Airborne before volunteering for Special Forces training in Colorado. Now the Lieutenant was in way over his head, and it was Ritchie’s job to keep the men from eating him alive until he got his feet under him. It was a bit of a surprise because normally the Special Forces took Officers who held at least the Rank of Captain. The Colonel in Charge of the 19th SFG had told Ritchie when asked that Officers with actual combat experience were getting thin on the ground these days and it was up to the Special Forces themselves to cultivate their own leadership. The only way that might change was if President Nixon could arrange for there to be a good war. Preferably somewhere not too hot and with decent bars.

Ritchie took that as joke, at least he hoped it was a joke.

Being gone for week or so at a time wasn’t that bad. Lucia put it up with that, but Ritchie had no idea how she would react if they were ever faced with the prospect of long-term deployment in theater halfway around the world. There were things like Steven starting the first-grade next week and was excited for the first day of school, something that would last until the second day when the novelty wore off. Ritchie didn’t want to miss moments like that. The last time Ritchie had been in Ukraine to see what the Germans were up to, Lucia had joked that their daughter Kristie had forgotten what he looked like. He figured that having that actually happen would be one of the worst things that could happen to him.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred Thirteen



27th August 1978

Mitte, Berlin

It was the last week of the Summer Holiday and what was she doing? Watching the dedication of a statue, that was what. This wasn’t helped by it being a muggy evening with the threat of rain which had caused delays earlier in the day. This had the effect of making it so that most of the people present were having trouble just staying awake. The men from the First Foot present looked like they were about to fall over. Mathilda felt sorry for them because she knew what they were going through. Her brother had told her all about his time in the ceremonial guard, how the summertime had been incredibly hellish with the heat and the tourists. At the moment, there was one of members of Berlin’s Landtag who was droning on about who Opa had been. He was not a great public speaker.

This was all about dedication and public unveiling of the statue of Opa along with the statue of Walter Horst. The two of them joining the ranks of other statues of the Realm’s heroes. Mathilda had seen the statue many times when it had been on display in Breslau, so there were no surprises here. Oddly, this was a repeat of the public portion of Opa’s funeral which brought back a lot of unpleasant memories. From Mathilda’s perspective the whole thing would have been far more tolerable if they had limited it to actual mourners as opposed to people who were there just to make sure he was actually dead or those who felt obligated to come because they owed Opa money. The later, more private burial had been better, but Mathilda always had what had happened there at the back of her mind. The empty sky and the meaning she had drawn from it had just been too much at that moment. Mathilda had discussed what had happened with Aunt Ilse and she had told her that the universe is a very cold place when you looked at it logically. Part of growing up is to accept that and to avoid becoming nihilistic out of despair.

If Mathilda had to guess, that was a reflection on how Aunt Ilse saw the world. She knew that Ilse had not had the easiest life. There had been a few instances that Mathilda had witnessed involving the Agoraphobia that Ilse suffered from and some of the stories of her childhood were downright disturbing. Mathilda had always thought that she had been lucky to land with the Richthofen family. That had only been because powerful people took an interest in her case and her brother’s friend Christian was the husband of Opa’s granddaughter. Apparently, there had been far worse alternatives that she had only gotten glimpses of.

With an exasperated sigh, Mathilda slouched in her chair wishing that the hard folding chair had actually been made with human contours in mind. The speaker droned on. Mathilda was starting to wish that a cane would reach out and yank him off the stage like in the American films that depicted the old Vaudeville theater when an act had overstayed its welcome on stage. It was then that there was a howl of feedback. The speaker apologized as he tried to reposition the microphone causing the stand to fall over.

As the loud “Thud!” blasted through the public address system it caused hundreds of crows who had been roosting in the trees in the park next to the watchhouse to take flight at once. This was right as the setting sun broke through the clouds, bathing the streets of Berlin in a crimson glow. That meant little to most of the people present, but to Mathilda it meant everything. She knew in her heart that the cold logic that Ilse spoke of missed so much about the world.

She just wished that this had happened sooner.

“Enjoy yourself” Mathilda whispered as she watched the crows flying in the pell-mell manner of their kind with a smile.



South China Sea, off Kuching, Borneo

Erich was getting tired of waiting for something to happen. The self-styled Pirate King whose activities had caused a response by the High Seas Fleet had gone suddenly quiet. Historically this was a common tactic used by pirates, gather in numbers, strike swiftly, and then scatter before the hammer came down. Modern communications such as radios and telephones had made that far easier. When Erich had been briefed with the other Officers they had said that they needed to assume that their presence was already known. So they were in the uncomfortable position of relying on Intelligence to ferret out where these pirates were holed up.

In the meantime, they were left waiting.

This would have been tolerable except Borneo was considered off limits to the Marine Infantry because of extremely bitter memories. During the Pacific War the 1st Marine Infantry Division along with the 5th Army Corps that had just arrived from fighting in the Soviet War had waged a savage campaign on the island against the Japanese with the civilian population caught in the middle with neither side having much regard for their survival. The victory in that campaign wasn’t considered the Marine Infantry’s proudest accomplishment during the war. It was small wonder that most of the focus was on earlier Battle of Formosa and the later Korea/Manchurian Campaign.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred Fourteen



2nd September 1978

Lake Starnberg, near Pöcking, Bavaria

The house on the shores of Lake Starnberg was pleasant. There was a reason why Kiki’s Aunt Alexandrine Irine, called Adini by her family, had lived here for years. She always liked this place and the house reflected how her family wanted her to live in an accommodation that benefited her station.

“Thank you Kiki” Alexandrine Irine, or just Adini to her family, said with a smile as she looked at the photographs of Ferdinand and Jerrik. Ria’s two little boys.

She was tickled that Ria had named one of her twin sons for her older brother, and Kiki’s father, Louis Ferdinand, who made certain to visit Adini regularly. Kiki knew that these photographs would join hundreds of other pictures of her on the walls of the suite of rooms in this house that Adini lived in. Kiki knew that largely because of Adini’s congenital health problems had made basically impossible for her to have a family of her own. Still, she had taken an interest in the children of her bothers and sisters and their children in turn.

“Nina and Louis” Adini asked with an expectant look on her face. “Irine?”

It was a reminder that despite everything else, Adini had only ever reached the development of a child.

Kiki had considered bringing her two oldest but had thought better of it. At six months of age, Irine was best left at home today as well. While Nina and Louis were now old enough to have questions and opinions, leaving them in the care of Ben, Fianna and Vũ Mai was better than how they reacted when they traveled. They were usually good for the first fifteen minutes, then the boredom and impatience took over. Irine was a baby and because of that was very vocal about not liking changes in her situation. In a few months they were going to Argentina and Kiki was not looking forward to having them on the sixteen-hour flight. Mai was a recent addition to Kiki’s staff. As her family had grown larger, Kiki had figured that three small children were becoming too much for Fianna to handle. Even with additional help it was a good thing that Kiki and Ben had decided that they needed to take steps to make sure that they wouldn’t have any more.

Finding someone with the right qualifications who wouldn’t object to an open-ended stay in Argentina in the near future had proven to be a challenge. Mai, a middle-aged widow whose husband had died of lung cancer a year earlier had said that she had been looking for a change in scenery anyway, the further from her adult children the better. She said that they needed to learn some self-sufficiency before they drove her insane. Kiki was aware that Mai had already completely uprooted her entire life once when she had left Vietnam decades ago for Hamburg. Argentina would just be one more adventure.

“They couldn’t make it” Kiki replied, “Nina has school on Monday, and we would like Lutz to make some human friends as opposed to the dog, so he is going to the day care center in Balderschwang.”

Adini gave Kiki another smile. She had met Arno in the past.

When Kiki had gotten Arno she had been warned about the trouble that would come from having dog that was of a working breed. As it had turned out, between Nina and Louis Bernhard running all over the property that Kiki’s house was on with him, and Arno becoming a very willing partner in crime as it were, it became a question of him having to keep up.

The thought of Arno reminded Kiki of how there was a serious question as to what to do with him. Nina had thrown Kiki’s own words back at her, about how Arno was a part of their family, and you cannot just leave a member of their family behind just because they were inconvenient. While it was nice that Nina had listened for once, the amount of red tape involved in bringing Arno with them to Argentina was a rather large complication.

“Other boys” Adini said as she looked at the photographs of her newest grandnephews.

With a sigh, Kiki considered the actual reason why she had been asked to come here today. Her father had asked her to check on Adini. It was entirely understandable. The house’s staff included a Doctor who Kiki had spoken with before visiting with her Aunt and he had told her all about how Adini was getting the very best of care, but she needed to understand the reality of situation. Namely that Down’s Syndrome came with a host of problems. At the age of sixty-three, Adini had already exceeded the typical lifespan of someone with that condition and Kiki’s father needed to accept that. It was nice that he had just told her the truth, knowing that was all she really wanted. Of course, it was probably in the back of his mind that she far outranked him socially and probably in the Medical Service as well if he were a part of that. If he had tried to snow her then it was very likely that he would become the next Medical Officer at Wilhelm Station in Antarctica or a weather station that the OKW leased from the Danish Government in Greenland.

Looking at Adini and how happy she was looking at the photographs from Ria, Kiki figured that getting new pictures of her own children would probably be a good idea.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred Fifteen



4th September 1978

Belitung Island, Dutch East Indies

If Erich had to guess, they were doing the sort of thing that the Dutch had found difficult. Late that night the Company had come ashore on the other side of the headland that bordered the settlement that sat just above the high tide line on the beach around midnight. The plan was for the Company to dig in on along the tree line of coconut grove that ran up to the beach perpendicular to the coastal road and catch anyone fleeing towards the road in a crossfire when the rest of the Regiment landed near the pier. With them not planning on staying long, everyone had limited their rucksacks to extra belts of 8mm JS or 6.5mm and a couple of the 50mm mortar shells which always saw heavy use. It wasn’t until after they landed that Erich realized that in the future he would need to make sure that everyone had extra liters water as well.

The settlement itself seemed tranquil enough, a small fishing village on the western side of Belitung Island. It was far from the small town on the opposite side of the island that was the main commercial and administrative center. Supposedly, the Dutch Navy sent regular patrols around the island. The problem with that was that it was predictable. The other was that lookouts in the town and elsewhere on the island spread word that the Dutch were coming.

You only needed to look at the pier that served the village to see what was actually going on. Low slung speedboats, built for speed at the expense of nearly all else. Perfect for the strategy of forcing a Freighter to stop by firing rocket propelled grenades across the bow so that it could be commandeered and taken somewhere it could be systematically stripped of anything of value that could be sold off and the crew ransomed back to the shipping company if they were lucky. They were also fast enough to outrun anything that the Dutch had on hand even if they were not long gone by the time that Dutch ship came around the headlands. Of course, the single track that ran around the island which went right past the settlement which the Company had crossed to get into position told its own story. Someone local was getting paid off to look the other way.

That was perfectly in keeping with the history of these islands. They were relatively close to the busy Malacca Strait and the Sunda Strait to be a good base for raiding shipping. During the pre-mission briefing, the topic of why the British Royal Navy had done nothing about this place seeing that their base in Singapore was only six hundred or so kilometers to the north. Apparently it was because the Dutch didn’t trust the British. The Dutch thought that because the British had once claimed parts of the East Indies they might still have designs on them.

It was sort of understandable considering how thin on the ground the Dutch were. The East Indies was the center of one of the most historically profitable industries in in the world, the spice trade. That had been joined by oil, coffee, rubber, and mining over the last five hundred years. That was one of the key consideration of why the Japanese had invaded the East Indies during the Pacific War as well.

Erich had plenty of time to think about this as he waited for something to happen. It was better than thinking about all the ways he could mess this up or Schütze Samual “Sam” Beltz, just out of Cuxhaven who he had made a point of keeping close. What Erich wanted to avoid was Oberfeld Muller’s grim assessment of Beltz, which basically boiled down the idea that they should shoot him themselves to save everyone a lot of time and bother. Perhaps Erich would have taken that for face value, but that wasn’t too different from Muller’s assessment of him a couple years earlier.

Erich had gotten to know Beltz quite well over the last few months. He had confessed to Erich his greatest fear was that the other Marines in the Platoon would find out that Beltz was a classically trained musician and that he had played the French Horn. The trouble was that his pursuit of a career in music had hit a wall and he had found the starving part of being a starving artist to be totally overrated. A Recruiter for the Marine Infantry had told him a load of bilge about how they had places for musicians in the Field Band for someone like a horn player. Like always, the fine print that no one ever bothered to read said that Navy and Marine Infantry were not obligated to honor a damn thing the Recruiter said to get the signature on the dotted line, fuck you very much. They needed riflemen far more than musicians, so months later Beltz was out here in the asshole end of nowhere waiting for the shooting to start because that is where a warm body was needed. He certainly qualified, and it was Erich’s job to stop him from becoming a cold body in the meantime…

An illumination flare arched high over the settlement bathing the whole place in an eerie green glow as it slowly descended. That got the attention everyone awake, not that it mattered because the 12.8cm guns on the Ozelot and the Weißer Thun opened up as well as the 88mm deck guns on the Cuxhaven and Eckernförde. A high-explosive shell hit what must have been several thousand liters of high-octane petrol turning day into night. The light mortars of the Company opened up, dropping 50mm shells into the village. Those had been a direct copy of the Japanese knee mortars of the Pacific and there had been talk of replacing them, but a suitable replacement had yet to be developed.

As Erich saw the boats tied up to the pier get blown to splinters, he heard the jackhammer sound of the 20mm cannons on the landing craft. Someone in the settlement made the mistake of firing back which drew a whole lot of heat. As was predicted, people in the settlement would try to run, so the machine guns in Erich’s Company opened fire. It looked like tonight was going well but Erich knew that this was just the opening skirmish. After this every so-called pirate within a few thousand kilometers would be on the look out and it wouldn’t be as easy.