Chapter one Thousand Four Hundred Nineteen
2nd January 1961
Kiel, Germany
It was snowing when Christoph called it a day. The ships he commanded might be moored to the pier, but there were thousands of details that needed to be addressed despite them being in official limbo. He was in charge of a couple hundred caretakers who maintained the ships against the day they were needed again or were stricken and sent to the breakers. With each passing year the latter was looking more likely. It was the only way that someone as junior him would have commanded such a fleet. The Battleships SMS Preussen, Rhineland and Brandenburg and the Battlecruiser SMS Baier.
Walking down the gangplank, Christoph saw the British Naval Attaché was standing on the concrete pier. Checking to see if the ships were still moored in place. It was something that he did every week. The High Seas might have forgotten them, but their former enemies certainly hadn’t.
“Herr Admiral” Christoph said in greeting as he drew close.
“A cold day Mister Hase” The British Admiral said with a smile.
“Yeah, I noticed” Christoph replied, as he the flakes of snow that were falling all about them, it was getting worse and he wanted to be inside. “Still afraid that me and the lads will sneak out of the harbor and shell Britain on a lark?”
The Admiral laughed at that. “If only the world were still that simple” He said, “We know that you barely have enough men and resources to keep these ships afloat. Mostly it’s just nostalgia that brings me down here.”
So that much was apparent to even the British, Christoph thought to himself sourly.
“I know that the old girls still have a lot of fight left in them” Christoph said defensively, “They just need a chance to prove it.”
The British Admiral chuckled at that. “That, Kapitänleutnant is spoken like a true salt” He said, “I fear that the world will probably not oblige. We’re a dying breed, you and I. There is a similar place in Portsmouth, where Her Majesty’s Navy has placed the ghosts of her past.”
That was a bitter pill. These ships and their proud histories being left to languish here in Kiel while the world moved on. Ghosts was the right word for it and here in Kiel the ghosts were real. Occasionally, Grand Admiral von Schmidt was seen walking the decks of the Preussen and never saying a word to anyone. There were rumors. That his mind was going, that he was just a shadow of the man who had led the Pacific Campaign. Christoph might not deal in such things, but it did explain why a man who had been bigger than life and was said to be a genius had so suddenly vanished from public view.
Mitte, Berlin
We think you will learn a lot and it will be good for you. That was what Kiki had been told when she had been assigned to the Imperial War Museum on Fischer Island where she was to be the Aide to a ninety-year-old semi-retired General.
The Museum was considered an active post and was the repository of the institutional memory of the German Military going back centuries. The building itself had been continually expanded since its opening. These days it was more of a complex, with several buildings added to the grounds. The exhibits included hundreds of vehicles, from motorcycles all the way up to a submarine moored on the river. Weapons of every kind, most recently a 42cm “Big Bertha” howitzer had been added to the collection in addition to small arms. Not to mention that the armored train belonging to Manfred von Wolvogle was in a specially built hall. Then there were the archives that included letters, medal citations, journals and newspapers which a small army of volunteers worked to sort through.
General von Lettow-Vorbeck had been the Museum Director since it opened and had been a popular figure with the visitors as he had personally led tours and told stories about Africa. In recent years he had played less of a public role and there had been something of a rethink regarding just how he had conducted his campaign as critics looked at it through a modern lens. The General’s response had been to say that there were few saints in Africa, especially not when there was a war being fought. The news out of that continent lately certainly bore that out, with the British and French embroiled in colonial conflicts where just leaving wasn’t exactly an option.
“My son Arnd has a girl your age” Was the first thing that General von Lettow-Vorbeck said to her before asking “Fischer?”
“I was born on this island, Sir” Kiki replied.
“It’s a good thing that you don’t try lay claim to the other side of the island then” The General said, “That might be awkward.”
“Excuse me, Sir?” Kiki asked.
“The Winter Residence of the Emperor, who happens to be your father, is where all the other museums are.”
Kiki really wished that the Mirror had seen fit to have binned that article about her. It seemed like people recognized her instantly now everywhere she went. It was growing very tiresome.
“No matter” The General said, “I’ll arrange for you to be given the grand tour of the museum. I’d do it myself, but age catches up if you understand what I mean, and we’ll have you charming the socks off the VIPs in no time.”
Kiki had needed to hide her annoyance over that. She wasn’t here to charm anyone. She was here to learn so that she could advance her career. Instead, she had been appointed to be the aide of a General who apparently didn’t need one and was expected to be a tour guide. The spring term was going to be an extremely long one.
