Final impact

The room was hushed and still. Nobody dared move. Von Kluge was visibly shaking, and when Hitler finally opened his mouth, the field marshal flinched. But the fuhrer merely rubbed at his eyes and spoke in a cracked whisper. He was more rational, more willing to accept the realities, than Himmler had known him to be in months, possibly years.

“If we lose France,” Hitler croaked, “we forfeit our key launching point in the U-boat war. In addition, we lose all of the material support we gain from the occupation, including millions of tons of food, and the last tungsten we can hope to get. Still, it is evident-and we must place this at the head of all of our considerations-that it has become impossible to fight a pitched battle in France. We just cannot do it. And yet, we cannot allow Patton to drive his sword toward our heart through Belgium, either.

“We can still manage to regroup our forces, but even then only to a limited extent. Perhaps we should evacuate the coast without further ado, and allow our mobile forces to form reinforced lines that we might defend inflexibly.”

His eyes clouded over, and he seemed to go deep into his own mind. When he continued, he almost seemed to be speaking to himself.

“Unfortunately,” he continued, “it is also evident that our forces are entirely inadequate to defend even a narrow front. Any further effort in France would be possible only if we could gain superiority in the air, yet we must-no matter how bitter this may be-preserve our new Luftwaffe units inside the Reich, employing them only as a very last resort.

“We have lost the missile facilities. We will lose all of the U-boat bases. Our best armor is gone. When and where the last die will be cast, I cannot say.”

The fuhrer lifted his eyes from the ground and let his gaze fall on everyone who stood around the map table. They flickered with only the barest reflection of the fire that had once burned in them, but at least it was better than the dead man’s gaze Himmler had observed earlier.

Hitler clenched his fists then and said, “Clearly our plan to ambush Patton from the air was betrayed, and this tells me that we have not done enough to root out the traitorous elements exposed by the Emergence. We must do everything we can to hunt these spies down, and levy the most severe punishments.”

Nobody but the fuhrer dared look at Himmler, but he knew everyone in the room was waiting for his response. He had seized the responsibility for safeguarding the Reich and its leadership against fifth columnists like Rommel and Canaris. He had bathed the state in an ocean of blood to wash away their malign influence. But it had not been enough. He would have to do more. He set his features to demonstrate the steely resolve he would bring to the task, but this was undermined by what the fuhrer said next.

“We must involve everyone in Army Group West, conducting this struggle with the utmost fanaticism, and standing firm everywhere. Because mobility, a war of movement, is no longer possible for us. At least in the west. But we have substantial forces securing the border in the east. It is time to review that situation. The Soviets are not yet a threat-they remain greatly weakened by our earlier efforts against them.

“Thus we must temporarily draw down our forces in the east, which are doing nothing, to secure our western flank before it becomes impossible to move them at all. We must hold the line against the Allies until we possess the weapons necessary to strike back at them.”

With that, his eyes bored into Himmler.

“And when do you think that will be, Herr Reichsfuhrer?”

14

D-DAY + 29. 1 JUNE 1944. 2003 HRS.

THE KREMLIN, MOSCOW.

“It has begun, Comrade Secretary. The Germans are moving at least half their divisions away from the edge of the DMZ. They are heading west.”

Joseph Stalin clasped his hands together and showed off a mouthful of yellowed teeth to his assembled cronies: Beria, Foreign Minister Molotov, and Central Committee Secretary Georgi Malenkov.

“Excellent. Just excellent. And so, Beria, do we stand ready?”

The head of the NKVD nodded, though without much enthusiasm. It wasn’t that he had misgivings about the operation. No, it was just that Laventry Beria was mindful of any path he walked, checking for dangerous pits along the way. It made him a very calculating individual.

He consulted the flexipad in his hand, although it wasn’t really necessary. He was more than familiar with the details of the operation at hand.

“I would never have thought that terrorist criminals could prove so useful,” he said. “The trial of the Ukrainians proceeds. Their nationalist guerrillas-along with the Chechens, the Balkars, and Tatars-all remain in open revolt. We have given much publicity to the Red Army’s actions in response. This provides cover for the movement of Zhukov’s and Konev’s forces, although the world remains fixated on Western Europe.”