Stupid Luck and Happenstance, Thread III

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Fourteen



14th August 1970

Berlin-Brandenburg International Airport

“I love you Ben, but you can really be a complete idiot. Please be smart this time, for me.”

That was what Kiki had said to Ben when they had last seen each other. It had been during the brief interlude that she had been waiting to board an airplane and he had found her at the gate. They’d only had a few minutes to say their goodbyes and had tried to make the most of it.

She had looked tired, and he knew that she was in a stressful position. Astonishingly Kiki had said that she was looking forward to the long flight to Buenos Aires because she would finally have a chance to sleep. It had been into this that he had suggested that if he volunteered for any overseas posting then they could be together again. This was after Kiki had said that at the moment all roads seemed to lead to South America. That had been what had caused her to tell Ben that it was an idiotic idea. In the days since, Ben had learned that things tend to take on a momentum of their own regardless of what had been asked of him.

SKG 18 had started training in the new fighter-bomber and General von Werra, the Commander of Berlin’s Air Defenses, had taken a keen interest in what they were up to. When von Werra had toured the hangers used by the Fast Attack Wing, he had commented that the whole city was proud of what their Jabos had accomplished in recent years. That had been when a fully restored FW190 had been unveiled that was painted red and white in the city’s colors. That was what SKG 18 had flown during the unit formation decades earlier during the Soviet War. The 190 was completely authentic having been in a private collection until it had been reacquired by the Luftwaffe. Ben had discussed what had happened with Wim and they had concluded that the General was responding to the grumbling about the transition to a new airplane. The message being that change was constant, so they needed to deal with it.

In the meantime, they had check rides to contend with and a great deal of studying to do. Then had come word that as soon as SKG 18 was deemed combat ready, they were to be deployed to a forward location. The trouble for Ben was that while he had not contrived to have that happen, it hewed too closely with what he had suggested, and Kiki had referred to as an idiotic idea. She was going to be furious with him.



San Gregorio, Chile

Jesus Aiza was one of the few men with a University Degree in what could only be described as the asshole of Chile. So, he had been commissioned as a Subteniente and told to keep a Platoon of what could only be described as adult sized children from doing anything stupid. The men of the Platoon regarded Jesus as something of a genius because he had read the Infantry Manual and knew which way the rifles were supposed to be pointed in. Not that they were proving to be any smarter in Santiago these days.

It was all because Jesus had stupidly fallen in love.

Before he had been conscripted, his brother had told him of an opportunity to travel to the North. The problem was that he had been infatuated with his girlfriend and couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her. A few months after graduation he had gotten notice that his Nation needed a bit of his time and he had been sent to enjoy life at the hands of sadistic instructors with the other Officer candidates. His girlfriend had not even bothered to tell him they were through, leaving him to figure it out on his own when she didn’t return his calls.

Then had come a series of postings further and further away from home. He had finally ended up as part of the force guarding what was considered the strategically important Strait of Magellan, as if it hadn’t been superseded by the Panama Canal decades earlier. There was no denying that this truly was one of the ends of the Earth. All the jokes that Jesus had heard about seeing the same eyebrow across three and a half of the local men here were not quite true, but that might have something to do with the profound love of sheep that these people had.

It was here that the saber rattling that Santiago was engaged in was most sharply felt. If el Presidente miscalculated, then Jesus and his men were just so much chopped suet and he had met the man who he suspected would be the one to carry it out a few days earlier when he had been up on the frontier. The Argentine Army didn’t scare him as such. Most of them came across like Jesus’ own men. Just marking time until they would be free to return to their homes and families.

Then there were the other ones who had arrived in recent months, foreigners who were truly foreign. All of them were professionals of the sort who were rare in the Chilian Army’s ranks. The man who had introduced himself as Unterfeldwebel Weise was like that, whatever an Unterfeldwebel even was beyond the apparent love the Germans had for tongue twisters. There had also been a bit of amusement when he had introduced himself. It seemed that Weise’s first name was Christian. Jesus found that to be a bit of a stupid coincidence and not in the least bit amusing.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Fifteen



17th August 1970

Potsdam

Heinz Kissinger, the Shadow Cabinet’s Foreign Minister was on thin ice as far as Kat was concerned. Some of the comments he had made in the past were of the sort that made Kat’s blood boil. Were obnoxious reactionary politicians the main export of Bavaria these days? From Kat’s perspective it certainly seemed that way as he stepped out of Louis Ferdinand’s office.

“Kurfürstin” Kissinger said in greeting as he was followed by his Personal Assistant, the very definition of the word toady. The tone he was using was less than respectful, not that Kat cared. She hardly acknowledged his presence. Kissinger was beneath her notice and it wasn’t just because of her Courtly or Military rank. She just found him to be that loathsome.

Kat ignored the two men as they made their way down the hallway. She would need to fight the urge to ask Louis what he was talking to a leading member of an Opposition Party about and would need to find out by other means. Her current Aide was fretting nervously as he trailed a few paces behind Kat. She could already tell that this one would probably have no more than a middling career that would probably be spent entirely inside the Bureaucracy of Berlin or Wunsdorf. He just didn’t have it in him to be decisive when it was required, so having him posted in a Field Command would just get him killed and anyone unlucky enough to have to obey his orders.

“His Grace is ready for you” Louis’ Personal Secretary said after a few minutes. He was just one of the things that Louis was looking forward to dispensing with forever in November. That was entirely dependent upon if they could get the makeup the of Imperial Council hammered out by them. Exactly what that would look like, who would get represented, and in what proportion had all become contentious issues. That wasn’t even factoring in outliers like the Hanseatic Cities. The most likely representative from Hamburg had vowed to propose to the Council a motion to dissolve the Monarchy and to abstain from the final vote. It was difficult for Kat to tell if it was political grandstanding or a principled stand in keeping with the traditions of Hanseatic League.

“Sir” Kat said upon entering Louis’ office. He was sitting behind his desk with a map of South America spread out on it. That instantly gave Kat a sour taste in her mouth. The situation there reminded her of Europe in 1913 and the Americans suddenly being noticeably quiet about the Monroe Doctrine as assets that were being moved into Patagonia. It was a gamble, that once again they could roll the dice and somehow win in the end. The odds that Louis would pass off an unfolding crisis that would forever color his legacy was just too high for Kat’s comfort. When she had voiced her concerns, Louis had said that he wasn’t the one who actually made the decisions. Those were made by the Ministers and the Military High Command. Kat knew that he played a larger role than he let on though.

It would be just like Louis to have a big idea that would burnish his legacy. Only to have a world full of messed up people there to ruin his vision.



Plänterwald, Berlin

Ben had grown up as an only child. Once he had married Kiki though, he had found that he was a part of a large family. That included two little sisters who were constantly underfoot. Charlotte had decided that they needed to return to Berlin to prepare for the upcoming school term and as soon as they escaped their mother, they had come to see what Ben was up to. As it turned out they were not as much of a distraction as he figured they would be.

“There are two surfaces on the wings that control roll” Ben said, “The first is the aileron which moves the wing up and down. The second is the spoilers these flaps on the top of each wing, those limit wing lift and cause the wing they are deployed on to drop. They work in conjunction with each other.”

“I thought that lift was a good thing?” Nan asked looking at the schematic of the Orkan’s wing structure that Ben was studying. It was part of the material that he had been trying to memorize. Explaining it to Annett helped. Antonia had been interested at first as well until she had lost interest and was playing with the dogs outside.

“It is” Ben said, “But it is also induced drag. If you want an airplane that can truly go fast, drag is something that has to be reduced wherever possible.”

Nan blinked at the odd dissonance of that. It was something that Ben had needed to wrap his head around years earlier. All aircraft were built along a series of compromises, the Orkan being no exception. The designers had attempted to sidestep this with the variable-sweep wing, but that had added weight and complexity in the process. Ben had learned that the design was somewhat controversial, but that had not stopped the Luftwaffe or the Canadian Air Force from ordering the Orkan, or Tempest as it was called in the English-speaking world. Ben had heard that Hawker Siddeley, who had merged with the parent company of Avro Canada were planning on producing the Avro Tempest for the RAF, something that Ben was sure would have given the respective High Commands back the First World War fits. “Our lads and theirs flying the same airplanes? Balderdash!”

“What is all of this?” Nan asked pointing at the racks of computer equipment aft of the cockpit on a different page.

“That is the computers for fire control, fly-by-wire, avionics, and navigation” Ben replied. The schematic didn’t go into great detail about that beyond the structure that housed them built into the fuselage.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Sixteen


23rd August 1970

Wilhelmshaven, Jade Bite

Louis Ferdinand Junior was looking at his new ship and he was not disappointed. SMS Z66 “Schwertwal.” She had been the second of the Type 1947 Class of Destroyers, the first Class to incorporate the lessons learned in the Second World War. Laid down in the A.G. Weser Shipyards in Bremen early 1949, launched late that year and commissioned in 1950. Grand Admiral Teichert had seemed almost apologetic when he had informed Louis that he had been promoted again to Korvettenkapitän and assigned to the Schwertwal to be her new Executive Officer. The Admiral had said that he had tried to get Louis assigned to a Torpedo Boat, which would have been an Independent Command, but no such slot was presently available. Besides that, the Fleet’s Department of Personnel had recommended that he be assigned as XO aboard a Destroyer so that he could learn the ins and outs of commanding a ship at sea.

It was actually a step up for Louis because there was a sharp dividing line in the Navy between ships and boats. There was a lot of prestige tied up in serving aboard the ships, while the boats were seen as being rather workaday. It was a bit unfair for it to be that way. Louis had piloted boats from a launch with an outboard motor all the way up to the Windhund, a gunboat, on the Adriatic Sea, an experience he wouldn’t trade for anything. Louis’ main consideration was that he was finally going back to sea. When it came right down to it, that was all he had really wanted for an extremely long time. It didn’t matter to him what sort of vessel he was going to be aboard.

Looking at the Schwertwal from the stern, Louis could see the Bruno and Caesar turrets in front of the fantail each with two 12.8-centimeter dual purpose guns in a super-firing arrangement on the aft superstructure. There was a single Anton turret that was identical on the foredeck. Amidships fore, and aft of the middle superstructure and the aft smokestack was the real reason for the Type 1947’s longevity. The above the waterline torpedo tubes had been removed and replaced with boxlike missile launchers. The ship’s unofficial namesake, an Orca, had been painted on the side of the forward superstructure. High above, radar arrays of various types and radio antennas bristled from the central mast.

The Sailors guarding the gangplank snapped to attention as Louis approached. The rest of the ship was a hive of activity as she was preparing to put to sea for a patrol of the North Sea, so his arrival mostly went unnoticed.



Rio Gallegos, Argentina

There was an old joke about how if you walk down a city street and ask, you will eventually find someone willing to do anything. For Kiki it felt like those under her purview were among those and they were self-selecting, so the process of elimination was hardly necessary. Since she had gone to Wunsdorf-Zossen it had been one exhausting battle after another as the Medical Services Regiment had prepared to go into the field. Things had only gotten worse once they had landed in Argentina as she also had cultural conflicts to contend with.

She wasn’t Catholic but had gone to the small Cathedral just so she might be left alone for a couple hours. Falling asleep wasn’t part of the plan, but she had hardly slept in weeks so even sitting on a hard church pew had been no obstacle. Waking up with a start, Kiki saw that she had been asleep for hours. She was almost in a panic. They would be looking for her and this was the absolute height of irresponsibility.

“Your own people said to let you sleep” A man Kiki had not seen in years said. Father Markus Lehmann, Catholic Priest turned Army Surgeon. She had assumed that he was well past the age of retirement, but it seemed that the Medical Service had other ideas. She had heard that he had been in Rio Gallegos for some time with the Marine Infantry but had not run into him until now. “It seems that you haven’t changed much over the years Kristina. Working harder than any three people, hardly eating or sleeping until you collapse.”

“Do you think that you are the only one telling me this?” Kiki asked as she stood up and walked towards the doors wondering where her useless aide, the one who should have woken her up was. Two men from her protection detail were standing there. It was completely unfair to them that they had been forced to wait of hours for her.

“Clearly you are not listening” Lehmann said as he followed Kiki.

“This is incredibly embarrassing” Kiki said, “What must these people think of me.”

“I told the Bishop that you are a member of the heathen Russian Church” Lehmann replied, “He understood that you didn’t know any better.”

“Real funny” Kiki said as she opened the doors and blinked in the afternoon sun. It was a clear spring day, but it was cold, and the wind was kicking up. Apparently, this region was infamous for the ceaseless wind. “Now, what did you actually tell him?”

“Just that you are a young woman who works herself to the bone” Lehmann replied, “It seems that your reputation precedes you, so he didn’t mind. I got the impression that he approves of how you conduct yourself.”

“Good for him” Kiki muttered.

“If you are available tomorrow, I would like to discuss with you the plans for the summer” Lehmann said, “There are many things I’ve wanted to do here and out in the countryside but didn’t have the resources.”

Nothing like the threat of a war to finally get desperately needed aid into an impoverished region, Kiki thought glumly to herself. Father Lehmann was offering to help her without actually saying what he was doing. Berg had told her countless times that she would be stupid not to accept offers like this.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Seventeen



27th August 1970

Gobernador Mayer, Santa Cruz Province, Argentina

Falling asleep in the cathedral had not even caused much comment. Everyone knew that attending church services was actually a means for soldiers to catch up on sleep that Priests had turned a blind eye towards in garrison towns since time out of mind. Rio Gallegos was such a town with the barracks of the Argentinian 24th Mechanized Infantry Regiment only short walk away from the doors of the cathedral and the Seaport which was even closer. There was also the airport which was home to large contingent of the Argentine Air Force. Kiki had seen their Mirage fighter planes overhead that were of “local” construction, if by local you meant distant Buenos Aires. Kiki had been told that there were other military installations amounting to several Divisions scattered about, mostly up and down the coast, but especially down south on Isla Grande de Tierra del Fuego. It seemed that the waterways around that island were the main source of the present dispute between Argentina and Chile.

What had really gotten Kiki into trouble had happened a couple days later when she had developed a blinding migraine that pain medication couldn’t seem to touch. It had resulted her spending much of Tuesday in her quarters with a blanket over her head, completely debilitated. The problem was that she was in a Medical Services Regiment that had dozens of Physicians who all wanted to diagnose her. Somehow, they had gotten a copy her medical file and the speculation had begun. The consensus was that because she was near-sighted and everyone had seen the hours she worked, eyestrain, stress, and exhaustion had probably been what had caused her migraine. They had asked for a blood sample so that they could confirm that there was no underlaying physiological explanation and she had told them to fuck off. That was way over the line and if they had read her file then they would know that she had had a thorough full examination just a few weeks earlier.

While Kiki had a lot of strong words for those who had violated her personal privacy, Oberstarzt Havelka, Kiki’s Commanding Officer had found out. He had not been pleased by her developing that sort of condition without reporting it to him immediately or the distraction she had caused because of it.

“I was warned about you” Havelka had said as soon as Kiki reported to his office. “That you frequently refuse to take care of yourself and take on entirely too much. At some point I would need to intervene.”

“Sir, I am not someone who needs to be taken care of” Kiki replied, “If things were different, we would not even be having this conversation.”

Havelka snorted at that and Kiki realized a bit late how he might interpret what she had just said. She had been referring to the whole Princess thing, which dogged her every move.

“A man in your position would not feel he has as much to prove and would pace himself accordingly” Havelka said, “Let the rest of the Staff do their jobs in the meantime and let’s try not to have a repeat of what you did in Korea.”

“What was wrong with what I did in Korea?” Kiki had asked.

“More like what you didn’t do” Havelka replied, “And if I get the impression that you are on that sort of self-destructive path again, I will have you shoved onto the first available transport home. Understand?”

Kiki had been forced to agree, not that she was happy about it. Afterwards, she had been left stewing in her quarters thinking about what had happened. She knew that if people started to see her as using her title to get a leg up or not pull her weight, then she would never be taken seriously again. That would be the end of her career as a Physician. There was also the nagging thought that the career had not been the reason for her becoming a Physician in the first place. She had wanted to help people and somewhere along the lines that had been lost. The next morning Father Lehmann had asked if Kiki was interested in doing some work outside the city for a few days and she had leapt at the opportunity.

“I need you to be a big brave man one more time” Kiki said with a smile to the little boy who was clinging to his mother as she slid a needle into his deltoid and injected the vaccine into the muscle. It was third and final injection in the series that would protect this child from the two big killers, polio, and smallpox, as well as the childhood illnesses that might cause complications in later life. He would be kept in the clinic at this jurisdictional outpost, a combination of Courthouse and Police Headquarters, overnight in case there were any complications.

Stepping out of the clinic for fresh air, Kiki looked at the people gathered outside. The men from the Federal Police were watching them warily. Most of the police were outsiders and as Kiki had discovered, there were sharp divides between the people here along social class and ethnic lines. There was also the aspect of this which was the reason why Kiki had been recruited into the Special Forces. Half the people in this region wouldn’t be inclined to trust a male Physician. That much was clear when she talked to women about what were termed as “female issues” and most of them were amazed that she was knowledgeable on the subject. They had never seen a Doctor who they could comfortably talk about those things with before.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Eighteen



28th August 1970

Over Rural Brandenburg

This was just the first familiarization flight on the dual control trainer version of an Orkan. It took a lot of getting used to, especially the system looking out the front. Rather than just a reflector gunsight that changed modes and colors depending on which weapons were being used and if radar lock had been achieved. It now displayed a great deal of additional information. Altitude, attitude, speed, and the display of information from the terrain following radar were all displayed on it. The idea was that the pilot could see all of that without having to look down at the gauges. The Instructor had said that it was so that they would always have their heads up and would be more aware of what was happening around them. It was just a lot of information to process at once and Ben was still getting used to it. That was the reason for several flights to get familiar and then when the Instructor deemed that he was ready, he would switch to the regular production model of the Orkan and practice dropping concrete bombs much as he had with the Pfeil countless times. At the moment, Ben was thinking how different this was with the nearly silent Instructor seated behind him as opposed to Wim who seemed to start every flight chatting nervously until it came time for them to get down to business.

The throttle quadrant also revealed why the Pfeil pilots had been selected for the new airplane. They were used to managing two engines.

“We’re just practicing today Major von Hirsch” The Instructor said, “Regular landing procedures, touch and go.”

The Instructor hardly needed to say it. The idea was that the procedures would become automatic. The other big change was mentioned as well. After eight years as a reserve Hauptmann, Ben had been promoted to Major and it had been suggested that he might want to reconsider the role he played in SKG 18.

Concentrating on his flying, he went through the checklist he had memorized. The wings and flaps were extended, the landing gear was down and locked. He flared right as the plane neared the ground. As the wheels touched, he felt for the button on the control stick that would have fired the drogue chute out of habit; before he remembered that unlike the Pfeil the Orkan didn’t need one. Besides that, this was a touch and go, so Ben applied full throttle and the plane lifted off the runway.



Rio Gallegos, Argentina

“You have been a complete asshole Manny” Jo said as she sat across the table from him. It was the sort of establishment that sprung up near the gates of every military post in the world. A few rungs below a dive bar, that only sold beer because hard alcohol would just get out hand. Manny could see that Jo had already had a few tonight and he would need to task someone he could trust to keep their hands to themselves to walk her back to the dormitory that the civilian women were using. He and Jo had been an item way back when, but now that seemed rather immature with neither of them knowing how to be in a relationship. The star athlete and the prettiest girl, in their overlapping social circles everyone thought that they should be together. The trouble was that their respective personalities had grated on each other and they had broken up after a few months. It hadn’t been until he had gotten together with Suse Rosa that Manny figured out what the problem had been. Jo was smooth and cool, Suse was all jagged edges and fiery. Suse constantly challenged Manny directly where Jo would have just accepted matters. It was an odd thing to learn exactly where your preferences happen to fall, but there he was.

“I think you are going to lose her if you keep this up” Jo said, “Susie, that that is.”

“I think you’ve had too much to drink tonight” Manny replied, “I’m not trying to be an asshole, I’m worried about you, Suse, and Ina. You are not supposed to be here in Argentina. No one knows if someone is going to do something stupid and if they do, who else is going to get involved.”

“You are afraid that we will see a repeat of something like the Paraguayan War on the scale of the First World War with modern weapons” Jo said, “It will start down here with the Argentinians fighting the Chileans and then depending on what the Brazilians do, you might end up with a brutal free-for-all with the larger countries on this continent slugging it out as their smaller neighbors are caught in the crossfire.”

“Who told you that?” Manny asked, knowing that was a bit too close to the worst-case scenario that the BND had mapped out. The only thing that Jo had missed was that with Argentina moving swiftly away from a resource-based economy towards manufacturing and heavy industry, it was becoming a dominant player in South America. That was upsetting the applecart.

“I can read a newspaper” Jo said, “There is something more going on here too.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Louis Ferdinand’s social engineering” Jo said before she took a drink from the beer bottle, which she had forgot she was holding. “You notice how he sent all you big strapping lads from the Panzer Corps, and most of the professionals you asked for happen to be women under thirty? Including your sister and girlfriend?”

“What are you suggesting?” Manny asked. Not liking the direction this seemed to be going in.

“That a generation from now this will be a defacto German colony regardless of what they're told in Buenos Aires” Jo said, “The risk you are running is that Suse might get a better offer as you are being a dick because she came down here without getting your approval first.”

Manny stared at the beer bottle he had finished with an hour earlier but had not bothered to get a new one.

“Also, if you had been paying the least bit of attention, you would have noticed that Suse and Ina have had no trouble finding dance partners here tonight” Jo said, and Manny was on his feet in an instant. He could hear Jo laughing drunkenly behind him as he went to put the fear of God into whoever Jo had just mentioned.

Only to realize before he had taken a few steps, that if he did that it would only make things worse.

“Fuck” Manny muttered under his breath as he realized he had painted himself into a corner.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Nineteen



7th September 1970

Tempelhof, Berlin

Of course, no one believed Marie Alexandra for a second when she said that her Summer Holiday had been so bad that she had actually looked forward to coming back to school. Getting caught trying to talk to a couple boys over a fence had set the tone for the remainder of the holiday. Marie’s mother had told the camp’s staff to handle the situation appropriately and left in at that, but not before telling them to tell her that they would have to discuss this when she returned home at the end of August. So, even when Marie had completed the tasks that she had been given as punishment for breaking the rules, namely breaking curfew, she still had that hanging over her for the rest of the holiday.

Maja had been totally unrepentant. The other girl in their age group had wanted to talk to them about the two boys they had talked to and that made them popular for a few days until everyone found something better to talk about. For Marie, it didn’t seem like it was worth it. Over the following weeks she had pushed the matter out of her mind until shortly after she had gotten home. Then she had been sat down and experienced the joys of having an uncomfortable talk with her mother because she had shown that she had an interest in boys. Marie would have rather endured a public flogging than go through that. Boys, sex, babies, venereal disease, all of that was enough to make her want to run from the room screaming. Then her mother had mentioned the importance of committed relationships, using the one between her and Marie’s father, or that of her Great Aunt Marcella and her late husband as examples within her own family. That caused several unfortunate images to come to Marie’s mind. Horrifying. It was enough to make her want to take a vow of celibacy though she wasn’t a Catholic.

Going to back school the following Monday was a profound relief compared to all of that. That was, until she had seen the syllabus for the upcoming school term. If there were one word that she would use to describe it, that word would be daunting.

“I got a letter from my brother” Zoe Brun, the girl who Marie had sat next to in the classroom for the last three years, said in a whisper. “From Argentina.”

Zoe was trying not to attract the Professor’s attention when they were supposed to be reading the syllabus. Marie remembered meeting Zoe’s brother Engel a couple years earlier and he was a few years older than Zoe, not much more than that though. He was in Argentina?

“See” Zoe whispered as she showed Marie a photograph of Engel leaning on the fender of a military vehicle. In the background was scrubby bushes and shrubs off to a very flat horizon. Marie didn’t recall thinking that he was cute when she had met him before, but he was, sort of.



Base Aérea Chabunco, Punta Arenas, Chile

His name wasn’t Reinaldo Contreras, but he had been told that it supposedly sounded enough like his actual name to not cause him any trouble. He didn’t have the first clue as to why anyone in their right mind would think that, but when he had volunteered to come here and help the Chilian Air Force the CIA working with their counterparts in Santiago had furnished him with the necessary documentation. It had included that name. It also identified him as a pilot in the FACh, which he had not liked because he was actually a Lieutenant in the U.S. Navy. That was something that he had been advised not to advertise and that he would be disavowed if he got into too much trouble down here.

Walking down the flight line, he saw the mix of airplanes mostly old Curtis Goshawk III fighters that had been kept around after having been modified for use in close air support. There was also two dozen of the airplanes that had replaced them, Grumman F-11C Super Tigers which had been sent to Chile as part of a military aid package a few years earlier. Those were the planes that Reinaldo had been sent to fly because he was already familiar with the type having flown an F-11B from Aircraft Carriers.

“Hey Jefe, got plans?” Pancho, Reinaldo’s Wingman, asked.

“Just trying to stay out of trouble” Reinaldo replied.

“You bore me Jefe” Pancho said, “A man needs a night out on the town every now and again or else he goes nuts.”

“Not much of a town” Reinaldo said, “And what’s up with this Jefe business?”

“El Jefe, you know, the Boss” Pancho said, “Would you prefer I just called you “That Yanqui” like your Crew Chief does?”

Reinaldo knew that he would need to have a word with his Crew Chief, and he would need to get a lot better at Spanish, fast. It also seemed odd to see a Chilian University Student turned Fighter Pilot using air quotes like an American would. The influence of television if Reinaldo had to guess.

“The Boss” Reinaldo said with a chuckle, “I like that.”

“So, what do you say?” Pancho asked, “A few beers, dancing with the ladies…”

“Getting into a fight with the ladies’ boyfriends” Reinaldo continued, “Getting thrown into what passes for the drunk tank.”

“The Policía here in Punta Arenas just have the one jail cell” Pancho said, “No dedicated drunk tank, this isn’t the big city.”

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Twenty



14th September 1970

Arado Aircraft Works Assembly Plant, Schönefeld, Germany

The Representative who was giving Ben and Wim a tour of the large building that housed Arado’s Schönefeld facility. There were a number of regional airliners and utility planes that were being assembled here. Those were not what they had come to see, but it was still interesting. The tour had gotten off to a rocky start when their guide had introduced them to members of Arado’s Corporate Board as Major Benjamin Burggraf von Hirsch, Consort of Princess Kristina von Preussen zu Hohenzollern and Hauptmann Wilhelm Franke. There were all sorts of things wrong with that. Ben tended to think people were talking about someone else when they referred to him that way and few people had ever called Wim by his proper name not even his family. Wim had once told Ben that it was a childhood nickname given to him by his maternal grandmother who was supposedly from the Netherlands. So, the only people in the past who had called him Wilhelm were various officials and Ben’s mother. It seemed that the bigwigs at Arado could be added to that list as well.

“Unlike our competition, we don’t get too many fighter aces in here” The Representative said as they walked down an observation gantry, “So it was a real thrill for them to meet you.”

Ben gave Wim a hard look, he could tell from the expression on Wim’s face that he was about to make a flip comment. If he had to guess, it would have something to do with how the hangers that SKG 18 was based out of were located only about a kilometer from here. So close, that when they were going to be delivered the planes were just going to be towed down the taxiway and across one of the runways, from one building to another within the larger Berlin-Brandenburg Airport complex. Of course, the Representative was referring to FW-Dornier.

“We’re the ones who actually fight when the Luftwaffe goes to war” Ben said, hopefully heading off whatever Wim was about to say. “Your competitor’s product is good for showboating. We have a different mission that is not as glamorous but every bit as important.”

“I’m sure that the Board and Advertising will be happy you said that” The Representative replied, “But that is not why we are here today. This is.”

They stopped in front of a window with an Orkan that was half assembled. The structural elements of the airframe were in place and most of the internal workings. Ben recognized the hydraulic system that moved the wings while the plane was in flight. A team of technicians were working on riveting the alloy skin onto the fuselage back around the engines that were in the process of being installed. The subassembly that made up the cockpit was complete, but the canopy and seats were still sitting in crates.

“I would like to introduce you to Black Knight 4, or whatever you might want to call it” The Representative said, “Traditionally, the leading aces of the Squadrons are allowed to choose their own paint schemes. Before we start painting it, we are interested in hearing exactly what you two would like.”

Wim looked at Ben with a slight smile on his face. They had always flown a plane that was the white color scheme with the rudder and other control surfaces painted red like the rest of the aircraft used by the Luftwaffe Reserve Airwings based in the Berlin as part of the City/State’s Landwehr Divisions. This was an incredible opportunity.



Los Angeles, California

The call came in while Ritchie was in a 7-Eleven getting coffee with the other schlubs who were dragging themselves into work on a Monday morning. There had been a feel in the air that morning as Ritchie and Wilkinson had left the garage, like winter was right around the corner. It was sort of hard to tell in Southern California, because there could easily be hundred-degree days in November. Coffee had sounded good, but when they saw that there was a line inside the store Wilkinson decided that someone needed to stay in the car.

Ritchie found himself with two paper cups of coffee in his hands waiting in line behind three men who were glancing nervously over their shoulders at Ritchie’s uniform. Wilkinson joked about how everyone had a guilty conscience, this was a perfect example of that. The truth was that Ritchie couldn’t have cared less about whatever stupid things that they might have been up to over the weekend and was more concerned about the various houses that he had looked at with Lucia. They had found one in Northeast Los Angeles near Occidental College that she had set her heart on but the problem of how they were going to pay for it remained.

As soon as Ritchie got to the front of the line, the clerk looked at him with a frown. “The company policy is that cops get free coffee” He said in a dull monotone. It was easy to see why such a policy existed. Having Police Officers in the store was an extra bit of security, however Ritchie knew that it was also one that was heavily abused. That explained the clerk’s tepid reaction.

Stepping out of the store with the coffees, Ritchie saw that Wilkinson had already started the engine. He barely gave him time to get into the passenger seat before he had the lights and sirens on. As they tore out of the 7-Eleven’s parking lot and Ritchie struggled to keep from spilling coffee on himself, Wilkinson yelled to Ritchie what was going on. “Robbery in progress, only a couple blocks from here!”

As they rounded a corner, Wilkinson slammed on the brakes and the car stopped in front of a bank. It only took seconds for Wilkinson to spot a blue Ford Maverick with its engine idling parked in front of the bank. The squad car was parked in such a way that it was blocked in. The driver of the Maverick had a look of terror on his face as he saw Wilkinson walk up to the driver’s side window with his gun drawn. He turned off the ignition, probably a smart move considering how he still had a way out if he threw his friends to the wolves by denying that he was involved. He wasn’t fooling anyone though.

“That moron’s buddies are going to come running out any second” Wilkinson said, “Once we are through with them, I want you to tell the Manager that we arrested the perps. You might finally get that loan out of this.”

“Are you nuts?” Ritchie asked, “And that might be illegal.”

Wilkinson just shrugged. “You want it or not?”

Ritchie didn’t have time to answer as two men in ski-masks ran out the front doors of the bank. The 38 Special that the Department had issued him wasn’t particularly great as a pistol, but it turned out that it made a great club as a Ritchie hit one of the bank robbers across the bridge of his nose with it as he tried to run past.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Twenty-One



25th September 1970

Tempelhof, Berlin

The schoolwork had instantly become far more difficult. The year before Sophie had been placed in classes that were meant to prepare her for this, but the expectations had risen markedly. Into this was the problem that Katherine said that Sophie needed to get past, that things had changed, and she needed to stop internalizing everything. What did the term internalizing even mean?

At any second, Sophie was expecting something to hit the back of her head. That was the way it had always played out. She would be sitting there doing her schoolwork and the instant the teacher’s back was turned a paperclip or paper ball would hit her. This was usually followed by giggling in the back of the room. There had also been other far less pleasant things thrown at her over the years. That wasn’t happening at the new school she was attending.

The other thing that didn’t materialize was the cruel comments that were spoken at her between classes. About how Sophie was the little girl that no one wanted, and they tended to repeat terrible things about her life, mother, and Katherine that they only could have learned from their parents. That was usually followed by laughing and taunting, as if the details of Sophie’s life were the funniest thing they had ever heard. Her attempts to stand up for herself had always ended in failure because they were always in groups and Sophie was easily flustered when she was upset. It always ended with her alone and crying in the hallway.

Katherine had told her that this new school was an opportunity to leave that past behind because most of her tormentors were on a different education track than she was. Years from now, they would still be locked in their small lives and would be just as vicious. The fear and anger that caused them to lash out at those they thought weaker or different would still be poisoning them because it had never really been Sophie who had been the problem. Still, Sophie found herself expecting things to be thrown at her and looked cautiously around corners. She expected that any second things would go back to how it had been regardless of what the school’s administration had told her.

Ziska had clearly taken their word for it because she had come to school without her right leg. She had said that her Doctor had told her that because she was growing fast as she approached adolescence, any prosthesis would have to be adjusted often, if not replaced outright. Having one that wasn’t fitted properly risked damaging her good leg and that was something that they were trying to avoid. For Ziska it was merely the inconvenience of having to use her crutches and that wasn’t something she would have done the year before for reasons that were too obvious to state.



Eagle Rock, Los Angeles, California

Meeting Lucia at the house after Ritchie picked up the keys from the Realtor’s office turned out to be the least interesting part of the process. When Ritchie had the message passed to him while he on duty from Dispatch saying that a call from the bank had come telling him that his mortgage application had been approved.

The bank had little choice in the matter. The bank robbery that Ritchie and Wilkinson had foiled had been at a branch of one of the banks that he had applied at. The story may have been below the fold on the third page, but when the headline read Hero Cops take down Robbery Crew and the Bank President himself was thanking Ritchie, the speed with which the previously radioactive application had been approved had been astonishing.

Wilkinson had gotten on the radio and told Dispatch that they were taking an early lunch and would be out of contact for a while. On the drive north from Downtown, he had joked about how now that Ritchie lived closer in the Brass would probably reassign him to West Hollywood or somewhere further afield in their infinite wisdom. Just to give him a horrendous commute again.

Turning onto Coringa Drive, Ritchie saw people staring as the patrol car rolled by. Yeah, there goes the neighborhood, Ritchie thought to himself with a laugh. Looking at the tree shaded street, it occurred to him that this was exactly what Lucia had wanted all along. A place in a nice neighborhood and a future for both of them.

Lucia had once told him about her past. How she had nearly seen her life narrow down to a pinpoint once with no other options. Just part of another generation living exactly as the one before it had with the only difference being that they were working menial jobs in the city as opposed to working in the fields of the San Joaquin Valley north of Bakersfield. Ritchie had done both of those things before he had joined the Army, so he understood her thinking. A house built in the 20’s with three bedrooms, two baths, and a daylight basement that was entirely theirs was far more than just the sum of its parts.

As Wilkinson parked, Ritchie saw Lucia get out of her VW Rabbit. She was still wearing the polo-shirt that was part of her uniform while working as a Cashier at a regional supermarket chain.

“Welcome home Mrs. Valenzuela” Ritchie said, tipping his hat.

Lucia just laughed at that.

They had only a short time to look at the house that afternoon so this would need to be brief. Lucia mentioned that when they held the housewarming party that weekend, they needed to invite Wilkinson and his wife Grace. Then she had mentioned that it was tradition for the husband to carry his bride across the threshold. As it turned out a fireman’s carry was not what she had in mind, so they entered their new home for the first time with her hitting his back and demanding to be put back down.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Twenty-Two



27th September 1970

Kiel

A journalist had come across the story about how a revolution in computer design had quietly occurred in the warehouse district of Kiel. Sigmund Kappel had remained in Kiel as the head of Naval Research AG working on dedicated computer systems for not just the KM’s Surface and Aviation Branches, but the rest of the Military as well as the European Space Agency. The detail that he had been working in close partnership with company that found civil applications for their products which was headed by a former Film Actress was a wrinkle that the press was astonished they had never run across before. Wendell Bratfisch was the President of the Berlin Technical University. Konteradmiral Albrecht Prinz von Richthofen had been there at the beginning but had soon departed and had gone on to play a different role in history as the first man in orbit. Presently, Albrecht was on leave to spend time with his wife and infant daughter as he waited for his next assignment.

Sigmund had looked at the whole thing with wry amusement. He had never liked the newspapers and felt they got many things wrong with little effort made to correct their errors. The fact that television and radio newscasts followed along slavishly to whatever had been printed in the last edition before broadcast just proved his point. Strangely, the paper that had run the story about the early days of Naval Research seemed to have gotten most of the details correct. Right next to that was a story about the make up of the Imperial Council that was about to have its first meeting in Berlin annoyed Sigmund. An elected Monarch? What a farce that was.



Potsdam

“Rauchbier is not a great conversationalist” Ben said.

“Are you joking?” Kiki replied, “He is great at listening.”

“Sure, but his replies leave a lot to be desired.”

“I’m glad that you have been talking to him every day” Kiki said, “You know how lonely he gets.”

“Between me and your little sisters he seldom is alone” Ben said, “I sometimes think he might enjoy a bit of quiet.”

“Glad to hear that” Kiki replied.

This was the first time that they had had a chance to talk since Kiki had left for Argentina through the miracle of satellite communications. This had not been something that Ben had planned on doing today. He received a call from his father-in-law asking if he would like to do this? As if Louis didn’t already know the answer. A couple hours later, Ben was talking to Kiki in what was admittedly a waste of Military resources, but he didn’t care. He had been told by a teenager who had been introduced to him as Funker Oberst that they would only have a few minutes, so Ben wanted to make the most of them.

“Please tell me you are taking care of yourself” Ben said, “I know how you get while you are in the field.”

“It’s sort of hard not to with a Surgical Regiment’s personnel with seemingly nothing better to do than mind my health” Kiki said with a bit of annoyance. “It seems like there is little I can do without them trying to find a diagnosis. From brushing my teeth to having breakfast disagree with me like it does for everyone else.”

“Army food still is that terrible?” Ben asked.

“Worse” Kiki replied, “At least in Korea we got a bit of variation because the Koreans like to spice things up. You don’t get that in this corner of Argentina, at least not in the wintertime. Here if powdered eggs, oatmeal, and canned sausage aren’t your thing, there is mutton. Lots and lots of mutton.”

Something about the way Kiki suggested food was a sore subject for her at the moment. He knew what it was like in the field. As a pilot, he had been far in the rear and had gotten the best of things because of that. Still when they weren’t flying, the monotony and boredom had gotten to even those in the SKG 18. When every single day played out like the one before, food became a particular form of torture.

“I’ve been spending as much time as I can out in the sheep stations and villages. I have been encouraging others to do the same well” Kiki said, “This waiting around for something to happen is a big part of why they are all in each other’s business, and mine.”

“The 18th is taking delivery new planes…” Ben started to say only to get cut off by Kiki.

“Ben, please” Kiki said, “Knowing you are far out of the way of this mess is one of the few things keeping me from going insane. So, don’t do anything stupid.”



Eagle Rock, Los Angeles, California

“Is that a joke?” Bobby asked in disbelief.

“Its true” Wilkinson said, “If the neighbors call the cops on us, dispatch knows that address and would call your brother to find out what’s going on. Of course, if he tried to bullshit them the Watch Commander would find out and he would land of Ritchie like a ton of bricks.”

“And if someone from this address called?” Bobby asked.

“Half the Central Bureau would roll up in about five minutes” Wilkinson replied.

“Shit” Bobby muttered.

“There are advantages of being inside the system” Wilkinson said, “I know that you and Ritchie were on the receiving end of the worst aspects of being on the outside, isn’t that why he joined the Army?”

That much was true, but it wasn’t something Bobby liked to talk about. Standing in Ritchie’s new house as they were assembling a table so that they would have some place to eat dinner tonight, which was apparently going to be pizza as soon as they nailed down who wanted what as toppings. Ritchie was puzzling over the instructions with Walt, one of the Davis brothers who had come from their home in South Pasadena to help out. The three of them had shown up that morning to house that belonged to Bobby and Ritchie’s in a battered old pickup truck to help with the move. The crowd who had come to the housewarming and setup was certainly eclectic.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Twenty-Three



15th October 1970

Over the Saxon-Bohemian Frontier

The new plane was almost invisible in the gathering dusk as Ben was flying through the mountains at seven hundred fifty kilometers per hour almost straight west. This was the proscribed speed that they had been told to maintain during the mission briefing. They had also been ordered to maintain radio silence during this mission because it was supposed to be a simulated combat mission and they didn’t want the enemy to know they were coming. That made things a bit hairy in that Ben knew that his wingman was only a few hundred meters away and that made coordination difficult. Two airplanes trying to occupy the same space by accident due to one of them having made a sudden turn was a bad thing.

Ben knew that the latest Black Knight was a bit livelier in flight than the Pfeil had been. A faster roll rate most certainly. What it lacked was the instant power that the later versions of the Pfeil had in abundance and the internal bomb bay made it incredibly slick even with a full load of ordnance. Ben could tell that the handling of the Black Knight was considerably altered with two drop tanks and practice bombs on all the hardpoints. He had yet to take her out over the North Sea and really seen what she could do, supposedly she could nearly match the Pfeil clean at high altitude. Ben needed to see it in order to believe it.

What Ben didn’t quibble with was the paint scheme that Arado had done for them. It was two-tone, matte black with the underside painted grey. It reminded Ben of a shark, which was entirely the intention when they had discussed it at the assembly plant. The Balkenkreuz roundels on the wings and sides of the fuselage were ghostly symbols outlined in white lines along with the Unit markings. A fiery black Pegasus, the latest representation of the winged chess piece had been painted on the side of the nose. Only the small City flag of Berlin and blue Maltese Cross that told the world that Ben had been inducted into the Order of the Pour le Mérite painted on the sides of the vertical stabilizer broke with that theme.

“Mind keeping above the tops of these mountains” Wim said over the intercom, sounding annoyed. That much was back to normal.

“If you didn’t want to have a thrill you would have stayed at your day job” Ben said as the display told him if he needed to pull up, level off, or nose down.

The radar was allowing him to stay only a hundred or so meters off the deck over rough terrain. From Wim’s perspective it was one of those sorts of things that worked until it didn’t and by the time that they figured it out, they would have already smashed into the side of a mountain. Considering that Wim worked as a Computer Programmer for the City of Berlin, his general distrust of technology was probably warranted. With the “Moving Map” used to navigate, Wim could see exactly what the elevations of the mountains were around them which probably didn’t help his sunny disposition. Still, they had been told that in the evolving combat environment they should expect to find themselves staying low and fast just to keep themselves alive.

“Whatever” Wim said, “We are coming up on our next waypoint, turn on a course of 350 when we reach it.”

Ben saw the kilometers tick down until they reached zero as he flew over the crest of a ridge, then he rolled the Orkan into a tight turn and dropped into the valley that ran more or less in the direction they wanted to go in.

They continued north as Wim guided them through the designated waypoints until they reached the target. On the outer wing pylons and the belly were a number of the practice version of the Aerodynamische Sprengbombe 500, an updated and improved version of the old SC500 that was necessitated by no longer having an internal bomb bay. It was for practice because it was filled with concrete rather than an explosive mixture. There was also a version of the AS500 that was free fall nuclear bomb, but they weren’t supposed to talk about that.

“10 kilometers to target” Wim said calmly. Once he was focused on the task at hand, he was all business. It was strange considering that with his distrust of technology, he didn’t seem to have a problem with the autopilot essentially flying the plane on an attack run.

“Do you have visual?” Ben asked, knowing that Wim would be scanning the ground ahead with a specially designed Sperber device that allowed them to see through the darkness.

“Got it” Wim said as he locked the targeting computer on the designated target. “Separation in 3… 2… 1…”

Ben felt the plane lurch slightly as the bombs automatically dropped away from the Orkan at the precise instant needed to hit the target. As they sped away from the target, gaining altitude Ben knew what would happen next. Overnight, grunts from the Luftwaffe Training Cadres would be digging the “bombs” up and sending a report to Headquarters about if they had been on target. It was the sort of thing that was done to develop character in the new recruits, both Ben and Wim had done a great deal of that years earlier before Korea.

Ben heard Wim laughing. “I think I nailed it” He said.

“We’ll know tomorrow” Ben said, “Now, do you know how to tell if we have enough fuel in this thing to get us back to Berlin-Brandenburg?”

“That isn’t funny” Wim replied.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Twenty-Four



23rd October 1970

Mitte, Berlin

Lunch at an exclusive Berlin club wasn’t how Ben had intended to spend today. He had intended to spend it getting caught up on all the things he had been neglecting while being a reserve Officer in the Luftwaffe over the prior weeks. Seeing how the club’s staff were reacting to the presence of his Father-in-Law almost made it worth it though. Still, sitting at the table with Louis Ferdinand, Crown Prince Friedrich, King Michael of Bohemia, Louis Ferdinand Junior, and Prince Franz of Bavaria, Ben wondered what he had done to find himself sitting at this table.

“I can explain how it works” Ben said, “But I know that I would bore you if I did.”

He had been asked about what he had been up to lately, but like always there were questions about just who was cleared to know what. The Brass had decided that because of the success of the 18th Fast Attack Wing and the advanced nature of their planes, they had become a part of the Archer Project which was designed to increase the survivability of aircraft in the field. Like everyone else who had been briefed about the capabilities of the Orkan, Ben had been told to speak out them with no one. The company he had found himself in pushed the very bounds of just who was considered no one though. Acting like if the whole thing was just boring seemed to be the best tact.

The two guided missiles most used by the Luftwaffe and Fleet Air Command were of the unimaginably named Lenkflugkörper series by Junkers AG. The short-ranged w-Lf “Speer” and the longer-ranged, all weather f-Lf “Hermelin” which appeared nearly identical externally, the key difference being that the Speer was heat-seeking while the Hermelin used radar guidance. The new Langstrecken Lenkflugkörper II dubbed “Sperling” was designed to be fired at targets not just well beyond visual range and was adapted specially for the Schwarm tactics of the Luftwaffe. That meant that when the Sperling was in its semi-active mode it could use the radar from any friendly aircraft for guidance. There was also a passive infrared sensor package installed on the Orkan that was a direct result of experiences over Korea and even during the Soviet War when the problems associated with powerful search radars had first made themselves clear.

“I think that Benjamin’s into things that are anything but boring” Louis Ferdinand said, “He just is using a bit of discretion. I understand that he has been shortlisted to become his Air Wing’s S2.”

Of course, Louis Ferdinand would know that detail. Ben had been offered the position of being the 18th SKG’s Intelligence Officer. It would mean that he would have an active Commission which would take him away from his career, and worst of all it would result in him not being allowed in the cockpit. What would even be the point in him being in the Luftwaffe if that happened?

“Seems to me that Ben would be good at that” Louis Junior observed. He would think that. No matter what position an Officer held aboard a ship, he would still be on said ship.

“That would take him out of the fight though” Michael said. He seemed to understand more than his brothers, even if it was for the wrong reasons. For Michael it was all about being in the middle of the action, as opposed to having a purpose or even the detail that flying a fighter plane was a whole lot of fun.

Franz and Friedrich looked amused by the whole thing. They were probably happy that the focus was elsewhere this afternoon. All morning, they had been at the proceedings of the Imperial Council. While the outcome of that was hardly in doubt, the resulting debate inside the Council had been dragging on for days over what had become serious questions. Just exactly what sort of society did they want? And what would be the role of the Emperor in the coming years? Was the position that of a figurehead, a relic of a Feudal past, or did the Emperor play a key role in the Empire? Were they even an Empire, or did they aspire to be something else? It was all being televised. In the hours that followed the debate was continuing in the newspapers, on radio and television news programs and even on the streets of the major cities. Ben had realized that this was exactly what Louis Ferdinand had intended to happen when he had announced his pending abdication and the formation of the Council. He wanted people asking these questions and he wanted this debate to take place.



Rural Santa Cruz Province

The houses were the workers lived in the Estancia were exactly what Kiki figured they would be. Indoor plumbing hadn’t arrived, and she had found herself giving lessons in basic sanitation. Being a guest meant that she needed to be gracious, but the thing she had complained to Ben about, sheep, were ever present and if she never saw or smelled another of those animals again it would be too soon. Father Lehmann took it all in stride.

“This isn’t the first time either of us have encountered this” Lehmann said as they sat in the back of the Iltis which was taking them between the sheep stations. “Nor will it be the last.”

“I guess” Kiki replied, knowing that it wasn’t the only thing she had quibbles about in this region lately. While these people lacked certain things that she might have considered basic, Kiki couldn’t help but noticing that bolt-actions rifles made by Česká zbrojovka in Bohemia were finding their way here. When they got back to Rio Gallegos, she was planning on having a word with whoever was in charge of this operation because that seemed to be at cross-purposes of why they were here.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Twenty-Five



30th October 1970

Mitte, Berlin

The spectacle of the Imperial Council had reached its final stage and the motley crowd who had made up the body were set to conduct their final, and only, vote. The television cameras were watching everything, and the entire nation was focused on what was happening today as it had all come down to this. It was not that anyone had any doubts about the outcome, but things had certainly needed to be hashed out over the prior weeks and the notes that were being kept and the conclusions that had been reached would probably find their way into legislation in the coming years.

With Louis Ferdinand’s resignation effective in only a week’s time, the time for debate had come to an end. That didn’t mean that things were going smoothly though. Manfred von Richthofen the Elder knew that the Electors of the Holy Roman Empire would have had a collective heart attack if they could see the structure of the current Imperial Council. The extensive bribery, trading of favors, and not so subtle threat of war were noticeably absent from these proceedings. Things like proportional representation and many of the topics that had been debated at length would have shocked them as would have the factions that had emerged over the prior weeks. Just the fact that a third of the Electors being women would have shocked them into incoherience.

It had been Manfred’s plan for the House of Richthofen to have this moment in the spotlight. What he hadn’t known was the fractious nature of his family and the connections with the Mischner family would define that moment. The representatives from Silesia included his daughter Helene and in a shocking twist, the mysterious Mistress of the Keys, Asia Lawniczak along with Manfred. A detail that he had not known about was that Asia was the mother of seven-year-old Heinrich von Hessen. The two of them had formed part of the leadership of the center faction, which many would argue was Langist in nature, of these proceedings. They were working alongside Katherine von Mischner zu Berlin, Sophie Scholl who had somehow found her way onto the Council by way of representing the interests of Munich, and Rhona Reise, the widow of Augustus Lang himself.

Often Manfred had found himself in opposition to them and as he had known since Helene was a child, getting into a debate with her was not for the faint of heart. She had deftly stood between the Conservative faction led by Manfred the Elder and King Albrecht of Bavaria and the Republican faction led by Helmut Schmidt and Erhard Krack. Matters weren’t helped by Schmidt and Krack clearly despising each other and the later clearly being terrified of Katherine von Mischner. It seemed that the current Matriarch of the Mischner family and Prefect of Berlin knew where a lot of the bodies were buried, probably having dug many of the graves herself, not that Manfred disapproved.

Still, Manfred could see familiar lines being drawn here. North vs. South, Protestant vs. Catholic, Rural vs. Urban, Industrial vs. Agrarian. Friedrich was going to have his work cut out for him if he were to bridge those divides. In the meantime, they were listening to testimony about what sort of Emperor Friedrich could be expected to be. Most of it was dry statistics, his education, Law practice, and family life. Exactly what everyone was expecting and was probably sleeping through. Jehane Alexandra Thomas-Romanova’s testimony about being “Freddy’s” minder when he had been a child was interesting. The shopping expedition to buy apples in Potsdam that had been featured in a column she had written for the Berliner Tageblatt was mentioned. Oddly, that was a story everyone knew; The Power of Please and Thank you. During the long period of time that the Russian Grand Duchess had spent in hiding after the first attempt on her life, with the world thinking that she had in fact died, had apparently taught her a few things and she had passed that on to Friedrich.

Everyone knew that Katherine von Mischner had been a sort of surrogate Aunt to Friedrich as well as his younger siblings. There was a famous photograph of him asleep on her lap at the funeral of Wilhelm II when he had been a small child. No one had called on her to testify though after she had asked not to speak. Princess Kristina had spoken at length over a radio link from distant Argentina, the same means by which she would cast her vote on behalf of the Hohenzollern Province. All about how the Crown Prince was her oafish older brother, teasing, pranks, and inappropriate gifts. A whippet puppy that had been collectively adopted by the Helicopter Air Wing she had been serving with at the time for example or the time he had dumped a shovel full of snow on the heads of Kristina and her eventual husband when they were stealing a private moment alone. She also described him as a loving husband and good father. It was all talked about in good humor, clearly an effort to humanize Friedrich.

It was the next bit of testimony where things got interesting though. Oberfeldwebel Knut Leichenberg was introduced. He was wearing the blue and white dress uniform of the Marine Infantry and Manfred could see that he was highly decorated. Something about the look on Friedrich’s face suggested that he was less than thrilled by the presence of the Marine who had apparently been in charge of protecting the Crown Prince when he had turned up in Poland leading a Battalion of Pioneers. It turned out that the entire advance which had been stalled by bridges dropped into the Vistula River and the timely intervention by Friedrich had put them back into the race for Warsaw. That was also the story of how Friedrich had been awarded an EK2. It was clear to Manfred that Oberfeld Leichenberg was a colorful character and that earning the respect of a man like that was difficult. As Leichenberg put it, Friedrich proved that he had balls by going to Poland like he had.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Twenty-Six



8th November 1970

Berlin-Brandenburg International Airport

With the resignation of Emperor Louis Ferdinand about to become official and the coronation of Crown Prince Friedrich pending everyone was waiting, the 18th SKG had gone on alert along with the rest of the military units in the vicinity of the Capital. It was not that anyone thought that anything would happen to such an extent that close air support from Fighter-Bombers would be necessary, just no one was taking any chances because it was well known that not everyone was thrilled by the turn of events. The Polish Nationalists and Jacobins being at the top of what was an extensive list.

Tomorrow, the Air Wing would drink a toast to the health of Emperor Friedrich IV and Empress Suga-no-miya, and hopefully that would be the end of it for now. Two planes from the 18th were supposed to be a part of festivities on Coronation Day but Black Knight hadn’t been selected. The Government wanted them to be painted in the livery of the City of Berlin for reasons that Ben didn’t quite understand and that left two of the five Orkans that were presently unclaimed with the remainder of the Wing painted some combination of black, white, and red.

Ben was finding that he had other things to contend with in his new role within the 18th as the new S9. As it had turned out, his worry about becoming the Wing’s S2 and removal from flight status had been off the mark. Instead, Ben had been made the new Civil Affairs Officer of the unit. He had swiftly learned that there was a reason it was a job no one else wanted. He had been told that the position existed to promote Civil-Military Cooperation. What that looked like in real life was answering the phone when the irate members of Municipal Councils called complaining about low flying aircraft and noise. Somehow, they knew exactly whose airplanes it had been as well, Ben just couldn’t figure out the means of how they would have figured that out though. Also, an Orkan running two Junkers Jumo 12 turbofan engines generating sixty Kilonewtons of thrust dry was not exactly being subtle, so these complaints were valid. The trouble was that nobody above him had told Ben what exactly he was supposed to do about it other than get yelled at.

Then there was the other hazard that had swiftly presented itself.

“So, this is what you do when Kiki is out of town?” Zella asked as she walked around the Black Knight. Ben knew that the double entendre of what she had just said was deliberate and he was glad that Yuri, Zella’s Cameraman wasn’t filming at this second.

“You never said Kiki’s best friend was totally hot” Wim said knowing that Zella was out of earshot. That was true enough, but Ben had known Zella for years and any consideration regarding her personal appearance were tempered by their shared history. His foot under the wheels of her motorcycle the one time he had been stupid enough to unwittingly corner her, for example.

“I told you she was the action reporter for ARD Berlin” Ben replied, “You have probably seen Zella on television dozens of times.”

Ben could already see the effect of having Zella around the hanger of the 18th SKG as pilots and aircrew, all men and even a few women were making excuses to be around as she toured the hangers, offices, and workshops that made the Air Wing’s headquarters. Zella, of course, seemed completely oblivious to this.

“And what’s the deal with her Cameraman?” Wim asked. Ben tried to hide his annoyance over the matter. It was extremely obvious to everyone that Yuri Kozlov had feelings for Zella. That was something that he had talked with Kiki about many times, and she had asked him to never bring it up with Zella because that would just be asking for trouble.

“He’s got a job to do” Ben replied as Yuri started filming Zella as she was looking at the of the Black Knight as the Mechanics were at work.

Eventually, Zella came to the fairing where the muzzle of the RK30 cannon protruded from right-hand underside of the nose. “Is this it?” She asked.

Ben gave one of the Mechanics a nod and he started opening the access panels down the fuselage below the cockpit. The cannon itself was nearly two meters in length from the muzzle back to the box that housed the revolving chamber and feed system. The feed system snaked back into the ammunition box aft of the cockpit. The row of linked 30x184mm cased mine shells meant business.

“Just one gun?” Zella asked, clarifying her previous question. “I thought there were more than that.”

“It shoots fifteen hundred rounds per minute” Ben replied, “You only need one. Not having a battery of autocannons saves weight.”

“Oh” Zella said. She wasn’t pretending that she had knowledge of any of this. Ben understood that fighter-bombers were just not her thing.

“Our primary weapons in air-to-air are missiles that can hit targets many kilometers out” Ben said, “If we get into a close in dogfight it means that we got jumped or that we have run out of better options.”

That was the official line. There had been plenty of times when Ben had used an earlier version of the RK30 over Korea. It was a good tool to have available at times. The f-LsLf II “Sperling” could easily hit targets out to a hundred and twenty kilometers and the Orkan was the first aircraft to be equipped with the radar designed to exploit that to the fullest, but that wasn’t something the Luftwaffe was advertising. They wanted it to be a surprise.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Twenty-Seven



9th November 1970

Plänterwald, Berlin

Freddy wished that he could run outside, hop in the nearest car, and just keep on going as far from here as he could get. However, duty was something that he couldn’t exactly run away from.

He was wearing the dress uniform of the Pioneer Corps, a first for the Office he was about to occupy. The Service Branch along with the Medical Service had been considered somewhat beneath the other, more established, branches. The Heer and Navy were regarded as the most senior with the Luftwaffe as something of an upstart. They counted the date of their formation as being the 1st of March 1917. That being the day that Oswald Boelcke had arrived in Berlin and demanded that Imperial Air Service be allowed to become its own Service Branch. The Joint Medical Service had emerged at the same time as the Pioneer Corps with both being made independent Branches in the reorganization that had followed the Second World War. The Luftwaffe had gained a considerable stature by having Freddy’s father be a part of it and the Pioneer Corps was clearly hoping that they would benefit this time.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Freddy saw that all signs of his former rank and unit had been removed from his uniform. He had held the held the rank of Oberst and had briefly commanded a Reserve Regiment, a position that he had earned entirely on his own merit. It was something that he knew he should be proud of. Freddy also knew that he was now the Grand Master of several Chivalrous Orders and if he wished, he could have festooned himself in a gaudy display in the manner of his ancestors. The truth was that he had come to understand why his father had never done that. Unearned Medals and Orders didn’t mean a whole lot. Instead, Freddy’s father had just worn his Flight Instructor’s Career Badge for years something that everyone who saw it understood that it was something that he had worked for it.

That was why Freddy was wearing the EK2 he had received for showing leadership in the field at his throat, the Pioneer Corps Career Badge, and finally, the gold medal with the image of Justicia, the blindfolded Goddess holding scales in one hand and a sword in the other engraved on it. That last one had been awarded to Freddy when he had passed his second State Examination earning a Doctorate in Law. In this context it had been awarded by the Military to say that he would be allowed to serve on a Court of Honor if that had ever proven necessary.

The door opened and Suga looked at Freddy’s reflection with a smile. She was wearing a dress that had been made specially for this occasion, blue with a pattern of green and purple leaves on it that was very subtle, the orange ribband of the Order of the Black Eagle which Freddy’s father had inducted her into as one of his last acts as Emperor. She also had the Grand Cross of the Order of Louise pinned to the left sleeve of her dress and the star of that Order pinned to her breast, which said that she was now the Royal Sovern and Grand Mistress of that Order. He understood that she always took care at how she was seen at public events, each fabric and color carefully selected, not a hair out of place and the cosmetics on her face artfully done. He also knew how Suga dressed and acted when she thought no one was looking, the old silk kimonos that were intended for everyday wear and plain cotton dresses. He actually preferred her when she wasn’t putting in as much effort. He wished that the people of Germany saw more of how warm and affable she was in casual settings. Suga would be crowned Empress beside Freddy as his Consort and that would make things interesting in the future, that much was certain. He also noticed that Mirai was holding her mother’s hand.

Of Freddy’s children, only six-year-old Mirai Louise was old enough to take part today. At the respective ages of two and five months, Alexandrine and Eduard would stay with their Nurses. He noticed that someone had put Mirai in a traditional green wool Dirndl with an undyed linen blouse and she looked absolutely adorable. The trouble was that Mirai and adorable were not a comfortable mix. It reminded Freddy of another girl he had known years earlier, Kiki, the Princess Royal who was halfway around the world today in Patagonia. He had seen a photograph taken just a few days earlier of her in the universal field uniform of the Military, the four-color splinter pattern, which was brown, tan, light & dark grey. She had her sleeves rolled up and she was working on suturing what looked like a nasty gash on a man’s leg. A dozen men, honest to God Cowboys, stood in the background watching. Freddy knew that Kiki was living exactly the sort of life she wanted when he saw that. However, she had told their father that she didn’t like being so far away from Benjamin for months on end. Suga had pointed out that it looked like she hadn’t lost weight this time. Freddy understood that had been a problem in the past. When Kiki was out in the field, she tended to neglect her own personal needs. Losing a bunch of weight was a problem for Kiki because she didn’t have a whole lot extra to lose. Mirai could do far worse than to turn out like her Aunt Kristine.

“Shall we?” Freddy asked as he buckled on his sword belt. The short sword of a Pioneer Officer was a part of the dress uniform that actually found its way into the field. The stout blade perfect for cutting and hacking in place of an axe.

“Yes” Suga said as she took Freddy’s arm and they walked out to the waiting cars.

In the coming minutes, they would get in a car and a motorcade would take them from Winter Residence to the Emperor Wilhelm Memorial Church. Then there would be a purposely nondenominational benediction delivered by three Church Leaders from those very denominations who would hopefully get through it without arguing like they had at the rehearsal the day before. After that, Freddy would lift the crown from the alter and place it upon his head. It was a tradition started by Wilhelm I in 1861, as he had said that he was receiving the Crown from God’s hands. He had done that to tell the members of the Prussian Landtag that he had the last word as King, and a decade later, Emperor. As Freddy had considered that, he had realized that there was a deeper meaning that Wilhelm I might not have intended. The Emperor was also the end of the line when it came to responsibility. Everything that happened during his tenure, good or bad, would be laid entirely at his doorstep.

After that, he would be part of a procession to the Reichstag where he would take his oath of allegiance, swearing to protect the unity of the Realm, the freedom of her people, and…

Freddy’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Ben standing on the side of the driveway next to the turn off that led to Kiki’s cottage with Rauchbier sitting beside him. He was wearing a tattered bathrobe, a newspaper under his arm, a coffee cup in his hand and flip-flops on his feet. As the motorcade passed, he gave Freddy a crisp military salute that came across as more than a bit sarcastic.

Freddy started laughing, that had been the perfect way to lighten the mood going into this whole thing.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Twenty-Eight



18th November 1970

Berlin-Brandenburg International Airport

For Zella, this had actually turned out to be a fun assignment. All the News Director at the ARD affiliate had cared about was that she knew Ben Hirsch and could get an interview with him. It seemed that Ben took his cues from Kiki and had been avoiding the press. She had stated plainly that they were not friends and that their past history was not altogether positive. Put someone in the hospital Emergency Department with crushed foot once and they tend to hold it against you forever. The News Director had not been put off though. It had turned out that Ben had recently been named to be the Civil Affairs Officer of the 18th Fast Attack Wing and he had been ordered assist her in the making of her latest project.

At first watching Ben grudgingly having to give her a tour of the hanger complex had been amusing. Looking at the new Orkan Fighter-Bombers had been interesting. Ben knew not just the planes, but something of their history as well. How the initial prototype had issues with wing-loading and underpowered engines. The new, much more powerful Junkers Jumo 12 engines and redesigned, somewhat enlarged wing had solved those problems. Zella knew that she would need to get more information on background. However, it was something that was never difficult because manufactures generally loved to show off when asked, Arado and Junkers were no exception. Past the first few hours though, Zella had gotten bored with the technical stuff and knew that anyone watching would as well.

Getting pulled away from that to cover the coronation of Friedrich IV had been welcome change while Zella had tried to come up with an angle she could use. Then the story of a staggering number of people drowning in a flood in India had sucked all the air out of the room for a couple of days. It had been on her return to the headquarters of the 18th SKG when she had finally seen the angle she could use.

It had been a Focke-Wulf FD121 “Steinadler” from JG 1 landing and taxying towards the hangers used by the other Luftwaffe Air Wing that was based at Berlin-Brandenburg that had caught her attention. There had been a handful of men from the 18th heckling the pilot from JG 1 as he walked from the flight line. The pilot at yelled back that they were all a bunch of amateurs and could stuff it.

Zella had learned there was a rivalry between the two Wings that went back decades. JG 1 was the original Flying Circus founded in 1917 and a regular Luftwaffe Air Wing. They still painted their planes in the vivid colors including that of Jasta 11, whose signature was the crimson nose and tail. There was only one plane allowed to be painted entirely that crimson in the whole of the Luftwaffe, that of JG 1’s legendary Commander, the current acting Commander was a suitable fill in while the “Rittmeister” was absent. The 18th Fast Attack Wing was a Landwehr Unit, which was why they had the City flag of Berlin on the rudder of their planes in the place of the Luftwaffe roundel. Zella had learned that most of the personnel of 18th did other things with their time most days. The crews were comprised largely of Tradesmen, the Command Staff and the bulk of the Pilots were University Students with a scattering of Professionals of various kinds.

The rivalry had intensified over Korea when the Fighter-Bomber Wing had managed to run up the score against the Chinese with the leading ace of the 18th only two kills behind his JG 1 counterpart. In the years since, the 18th had found new ways to embarrass the pilots of JG 1 in training exercises and mock dogfights, giving as good or better than they had gotten. Now, the Attack Wing had gotten flashy new planes and they were not shy about rubbing that in the faces of the Fighter Wing.

There was also the identity of the Attack Wing’s leading ace to consider, that was something Zella had not thought about. There was a reason why Ben Hirsch had gotten custom paint on his plane right out of the factory. He was hardly alone in that regard. Many of the Attack Wing’s planes had been painted to the crew’s personal preferences. Most notable was a plane with a galloping stag painted on the nose and another with Astrape and Bronte, the Greek Goddesses of lightening, and thunder.

The entire time she had been conducting the interviews, Zella had heard talk about how she needed to see what it was like in the cockpit. Then Ben’s Wingman, an Oberlieutenant Adam Graner who everyone called Spark, suggested that they ought to show her the introduction flight for new System Operators. Ben had been very reluctant to allow that, and Zella had demanded to know why. He had explained that it involved making the man in the back seat ill through violent maneuvers to break them in. He didn’t think it would be fair to do that to Zella as a prank, because she wasn’t a trained Systems Operator and wouldn’t be prepared for that sort of thing. Apparently, the entire Attack Wing had been taking bets as to how badly Zella would do if she found herself in that situation.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Twenty-Nine



19th November 1970

Rio Gallegos, Argentina

“He’s being completely stupid” Kiki said to herself as she reread Ben’s latest letter which had arrived that morning when she was already in a foul mood and was pointedly ignoring the unappetizing tray of food in front of her. He was excited about the new fighter plane he had been assigned to, like a child with an interesting, but fragile toy. The difference was that a child crying over a bit of broken glass or plastic might learn from the experience. The weapons of war were not toys, they broke the user instead.

“Who is being stupid?” Father Lehmann asked.

“My husband” Kiki replied, “Put a man behind the wheel of a sports car or in his case, at the controls of a jet fighter and they instantly revert to the age of four.”

“Few men are free of that sort of thing” Lehmann said, “Or many women, if you are being honest.”

Father Lehmann gave her a look that suggested that he was referring to her.

“I’ve not been reckless because I wanted to be” Kiki replied, “I have always had the public watching me, waiting for me to mess up so that they can gleefully judge my failures.”

“That isn’t entirely true” Lehmann said, “If you had really wanted everyone to think that you were pulling your weight there are many ways you could have done that without it being in the public eye.”

Kiki gave Lehmann a sour look. The migraine headaches she had endured had subsided after she had finally gotten out of Rio Gallegos and had begun doing her job as opposed to waiting around for something to happen. Then the dreams had started. Her sleep had been interrupted for weeks by vivid unsettling dreams of her teeth falling out among other things. The night before had been no exception. With that mixed with the constant smell of roasting mutton in the Mess Hall because the cooks could get it cheaply in this region of Argentina. It seemed like the world was determined to drive her insane on some days. All that was needed was a cloying sound to really drive her around the bend, but she knew she was tempting fate to even have that thought. Go to Argentina and get the full sensory experience, Kiki thought to herself. Korea had not been nearly this miserable though the situation had been far worse. Perhaps she had been too naive or something to understand that at the time?

“Vanity is hardly the worst thing that a woman in your position can fall prey to” Lehmann said, “If she is aware of it.”

“Are you suggesting that everything I’ve done is because I am vain?” Kiki asked, feeling a flash of anger.

“Yes” Father Lehmann replied, “Only to a degree though, I always got the impression that your desire to help people was genuine.”

This was the last thing on earth that Kiki wanted to listen to right that moment. God forbid that she ever spent a moment in her life being less than perfect. If she ever did than there would be a conga line several hundred kilometers long of people delighting in her “Fall from grace.” It had nothing to do with her being vain. Going back to eating her breakfast seemed to be the safest thing to do because she didn’t trust what she might say next.

“Have a good day Kristina” Lehmann said as he got up from the table.

Fat chance, Kiki thought to herself.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Walking out of the Mess Hall, Markus Lehmann regretted that he had not exactly gotten through to Kristina this time because she clearly wasn’t in a receptive frame of mind. When she was in a foul mood she leaned towards self-pity and was a bear to be around. He had been asked to speak with her because of how she was going about doing her job as the Executive Officer of the Medical Services Regiment lately. Whatever impression the public had of Princess Kristina; the actual woman had reverted to her Prussian roots when it came to the standards that she enforced among the Staff of the Field Hospital. Ruled with an iron fist were the words that were used. When she took forays out into the countryside it was often to the relief of everyone who had to deal with her. The Oberstarzt who commanded the Regiment was perfectly content to allow her to do all the heavy lifting.

“Bless me father I have sinned” Lehmann heard a voice say in Spanish to his right followed by an all too familiar asthmatic wheeze. “The world is full of women, and I want to have sex with all of them including your grandmother, well… especially your grandmother.”

“You are in for a disappointment then Ernesto” Lehmann replied turning towards the man, “My grandmother is long dead.”

“That’s why I need you to hold the flashlight while I shovel” Ernesto said with a smile. Lehmann had just walked right into that one.

“Still determined to spend all eternity burning in Hellfire?” Lehmann asked and seeing that Ernesto was wearing the uniform of a Doctor of the Argentine Navy. “And what are you playing at in that uniform?”

“The President conscripted me, and I couldn’t get out of it this time” Ernesto said.

Lehmann was familiar with Ernesto having run across him on occasion in Germany, Korea, and the Pacific Islands. He used the fact that Medical Doctors were welcome pretty much everywhere in order to travel widely. He was also something of a libertine and dabbled in radical politics. That the Argentine Government had seen fit to conscript the likes of him spoke volumes about where they saw the situation going. It was an unsettling thought and Kristina had good reason to worry about what might become of her husband.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Thirty



22nd November 1970

Berlin-Brandenburg International

“You remember how to signal if you want me to stop maneuvers?” Ben asked as he taxied the Black Knight towards the runway. “And don’t be afraid to use those bags we gave you.”

“Yeah” Zella replied. She and Yuri had worked with the crew to fit a few cameras into the cockpit. It was something that made Ben doubt that she fully understood what this involved.

The Crew Chief had been less than thrilled by the prospect of Ben taking Zella on this flight. Threatening to go home for the day if Zella got sick and spewed all over the cockpit, leaving Ben to clean up the mess himself. He had tried to warn Zella against this course of action, apparently though, she still had a lot of friends among the Luftwaffe High Command who had fond memories of her father. It seemed like at the OKL, whatever Marcella Markgräfin von Holz wanted, she tended to get.

Ben blamed Spark, who had earned that nickname after a hydraulic failure on his Pfeil had resulted in a wheels-up landing a few years earlier sent him skidding down the runway at Tegel, for this. He had put the idea into Zella’s head that she needed to have the experience of being in the cockpit to get the feel of what it was like.

Parking on the threshold, Ben looked at Zella in one of the mirrors as he tightened the oxygen mask around his face and lowered the visor. He had made sure that she was squared away back there as best he could, but he had the nagging feeling that Kiki would be furious if she knew what was about to happen.

“Ready?” Ben asked.

“Get on with it, Benjamin” Zella replied.

As was the practice, this started with the sort of take-off they would do if Berlin were under attack and there was a scramble. The Orkan launched down the runway from a standing start reaching takeoff speed in seconds at full throttle and reheat. As the plane launched itself into the sky, the only time Ben had experienced harder acceleration had involved being launched into orbit. Leveling off at six-thousand meters, Ben could tell that Zella was far from chastened.

“That was fucking awesome!” Zella exclaimed, “You made it sound like…”

Zella was cut off by Ben suddenly rolling the Orkan hard into a turn. She had no idea that this was just the beginning.



Rio Gallegos, Argentina

The sun hadn’t come up yet, but Kiki was sitting in Mess Hall working on the day’s paperwork while drinking sludge coffee. It had been another difficult night with her first having a dream set in some weird version of the Eighteenth Century watching as Ben and Freddy were dualist intent on killing one another. Kiki had retained her medical knowledge and had understood exactly what those old fashioned black-powder pistols could do to the human body. As she had begged them to stop, she had been roundly ignored. After she had woken from that one, it had taken her a considerable amount of time to get back to sleep. The next dream had been worse though she couldn’t remember any of the details. Just the lingering feeling that she had become a stranger to herself.

“Frau Oberfeldarzt” Kiki heard a voice say.

“How can I help you Herr Schmitz?” Kiki asked.

“You can’t, not at this moment” Schmitz replied as he took an orange from the basket at the end of the counter. “I think you are the one who needs help though.”

“The cheese stands alone” Kiki replied, as if that said everything.

Schmitz was something of a legend in the Medical Service. Having started out as an Enlisted Army Medic in the Soviet War and serving in every conflict since. He was credited with personally saving thousands of lives and had a reputation of being absolutely fearless. He had a wound badge in gold to go along with his other medals to prove that he had not always gotten out of every situation unscathed. As a Stabsfeldwebel-Lieutenant, which had roughly the authority of a Hauptmann, Schmitz was one of a handful of Warrant Officers in the Medical Service and he was presently managing the day-to-day operations of the non-hospital portion of the Regiment. Kiki seldom saw him because he preferred to work on the overnight shift.

“That is what comes of being the one charged with enforcing the rules” Schmitz said, “And as I am sure you are aware, being the XO is not a popularity contest.”

“I get that” Kiki replied.

“Look on the bright side Ma’am” Schmitz said, “You aren’t having to field complaints about that Argentine Surgeon they stuck us with, that one is a regular Lothario.”

“I’m surprised by that” Kiki replied, “If any of the Nurses had a problem then the individual responsible would be dealt with, harshly. They all know I take these matters seriously.”

“It’s not the problem” Schmitz said as he peeled the orange, “The Doctors and Corpsmen are finding it hard to compete with this guy.”

Kiki felt the stirrings of what she hoped would not be another migraine. The last thing she needed was drama among the Staff. “Anything else I need to be aware of?” She asked fearing the answer.

“The Marine who was brought in yesterday evening is symptomatic for hepatitis” Schmitz said, “We are waiting for the lab to get back, but I’ve seen this a million times.”

Kiki’s day had hardly started, and it was already going bad.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Thirty-One



27th November 1970

Mitte, Berlin

Zella had never been so humiliated in her life.

The video recording of her ride aboard Ben’s jet fighter was being broadcast on all the ARD affiliates as part of the Friday Evening Newscast. Sitting on the couch in her parent’s house, she listened as they laughed at the expressions on Zella’s face, the part they could see anyway, as Ben had thrown the airplane into a violent series of maneuvers. Then it caught the part where she ripped the oxygen mask off her face and threw up into one of the paper bags that had been provided to her for exactly that purpose. That was when Ben had leveled off and had spoken to her briefly, asking how she was doing in the flight so far. He had waited until she had gotten a sip of water and had secured the oxygen mask back over her mouth and nose before he had punched the throttle. What happened next… That was where it got really bad.

“They really do fly those airplanes low, don’t they” Zella’s father observed as one of the cameras aboard the plane captured sheep on the hill above as they had streaked through the valley. She remembered that part well, it was forever burned into her memory. Clutching the armrests, petrified as the landscape rushed by in a blur. There had been another plane flying in close formation and she had been too terrified to notice. It had been from the rear seat of that other plane that one of the regular Weapons Systems Operators had recorded some great external shots. The final insult came when Zella had climbed out of the cockpit and walked from the flight line to the hangers. There had been dozens of Pilots and WSOs waiting for her. The off-color jokes they had made…

“It looks like you earned a bit of respect with that crowd” Emil said as Zella wished she could fall through the couch and the floor below into oblivion.

Mercifully, the program went back to the interviews and additional footage that Zella had recorded with Yuri over the prior two weeks. The whole story had been a lot of fun, right up until she had found herself in over her head. Heaving her guts out aboard an airplane had been one of the worst moments of her career and that was saying something.

“Did you earn one of those nicknames?” Walter asked from the armchair, “Perhaps Ralph or Chuck.”

“Don’t be rude to your sister, Val” Maria said, “She went to great lengths to get that story.”

Zella was a bit annoyed by that. “Whatever became of cover the story, don’t make yourself a part of it?” She asked.

“Marcella, I can see how that doesn’t always work with your preferred medium” Maria said, “You took it and found a way to make it work for you, mostly getting good results.”

“Unless I manage to make myself the butt of someone’s joke” Zella muttered.

“That is always a risk you take” Emil said, “It’s not like you convinced a high-ranking Officer, my Executive Officer, that there was a chance that he could get a roll in the hay if he helped you get past security.”

“Emil!” Maria exclaimed.

“That also happened to be the same night I met your mother” Emil said.

Zella and Walter had heard the story about how their parents had met, with Maria following a story onto an Airfield where Emil had commanded the Security Force. They had just never heard this new detail before.



Rural Santa Cruz Province

It was either leave Rio Gallegos or else end up on murder charges. There was no middle ground this time. Oberstarzt Havelka had reacted to news that a confirmed case of Hepatitis A had turned up in the Marine Barracks in predictable fashion. In the crowded Military Barracks in and around Rio Gallegos, any communicable disease spread like wildfire. So, first had come the draconian measures carried out on the Marine Infantry as they had been quarantined. Something that was incredibly difficult to do. Then as the week had worn on, the Staff in the 34th Medical Services Regiment had been next. Once again Kiki had found herself having to enforce unpopular edicts as isolating suspected cases and testing of the personnel.

At no time had Kiki been around any one of the suspected cases, but she had been informed by Havelka that she would need to submit a blood sample to be tested. Unfortunately, Kiki knew full well that the testing wouldn’t stop there. Too many people in the Regiment saw whatever issues she had as a form of entertainment and this was a chance that she did not figure they would be able to help themselves from letting it pass. So, she had left a vial containing her blood on his desk five minutes before she left for Estancia la Lolita. The lab results would be several days old by the time she got back and by then the Staff would have gotten over whatever fun they had been having in the meantime. Kiki would hear the results and not be inclined to shoot someone immediately afterwards.

Looking out of the Iltis she was riding in at the rolling hills that eventually rose into the Andes, Kiki considered the mission ahead. Continuing the work that she had been doing in the small villages and sheep stations. Father Lehmann had stayed behind this time. He had said that there were matters in Rio Gallegos that needed to be dealt with, but he had assured her that Doctor Guevara was very capable of taking his place.

The four men from Kiki’s security detail rounded out their party, though she didn’t think that there would be any problems on this mission. She had been very welcome wherever she had gone in Patagonia with people understanding that she really was there to help.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Thirty-Two



3rd December 1970

Beagle Channel, Disputed waters, Argentine-Chilian border

In the final days of November, a tiny uninhabitable island which was home to thousands of seabirds seemed like an unlikely location to be a flashpoint. The trouble was that the island was something of a navigation hazard and the Argentine Government had decided that an automated lighthouse, just a steel tower with navigational lights and a radio beacon was something that was seen as desperately needed years earlier before the tensions had ratcheted up. The project had proceeded at the speed of bureaucracy so that when the task of actually building the tower began, the surrounding waters were patrolled by armed boats from opposing Navies. The heated missives that were flying back and forth between Santiago and Buenos Aires meant little to the local men hired to do the construction. They had a job to do, and they had lived in this region for generations. The understanding arguments between the old men who lived in the distant National Capitals were like the seasons. Things that came and went with little consequence.

That changed when the first shots were fired. No one ever found out just who was responsible, just that in a particularly tense moment someone probably panicked. The result was a sharp, inconclusive battle with both sides retreating. As they had withdrawn, boats from the Chilian Navy had shelled the island, destroying the island.

That might have been the end of the matter, except word leaked through British Military Intelligence to Santiago that two weeks earlier the tanks of German 5th Panzer Brigade, a key component of the 4th Panzer Division, had been seen being loaded onto freighters in Kiel. With the Dragoon Element of that Division was already present in Rio Gallegos. The imminent arrival of a highly mobile and potentially destructive force along what the Chilian Army considered one likely axis of advance was considered intolerable. Planned operations in Southern Patagonia had already included bottling up whatever forces were in Rio Gallegos and Tierra de Fuego, mining the harbors and approaches. This was all the casus belli that was needed.

Unlike other times in the past, the prospect of Argentina becoming a hegemonic power on the South American Continent had driven a series of unlikely events. The secret military alliance between Chile and Brazil had formed as a direct result, there were assurances that the covert pipeline of weapons and material from the North would proceed uninterrupted. That opened a window of opportunity to settle matters that had festered for more than a century. On the 1st of December, the Chilian Army attacked through the passes of the Andes Mountains, in the far South the open landscape proved just as indefensible as had been suspected.



Santa Cruz Province, Argentina

Cruising at transonic speeds while keeping an eye on the search radar, Reinaldo Contreras was understandably cautious. While the Argentine Army had melted away in the face of the initial onslaught their Airforce was a different matter. Intelligence had gotten that detail wrong. The Franco-Argentine designed Bloch Mirage III fighters that had been locally produced were not the obsolescent garbage that the CIA had assumed they would be and that had come as a rude surprise. They were more than a match for Reinaldo’s Super Tiger and engaging them in the wrong sort of fight with them got you killed in a hurry. The Super Tiger’s speed advantage had saved his life on the first encounter and that had been informative. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of them this far south.

Today, his orders were simple enough. Keep the FAA from interfering with the ground operations as the Chilian Army tightened the noose around Rio Gallegos and to dispose in any targets of opportunity as he saw fit. He understood that the idea was not to necessarily kill the Krauts dug in around that port city, but to keep them contained. Whether or not they were crazy enough to glass Santiago as an act of retaliation was an open question that no one wanted answered. Still, nothing was going to be allowed in or out until there were a lot of discussions with the German Government.

Flying on a racetrack course and keeping half an eye on the fuel gauge, knowing that there would be Hell to pay if he had to ditch on his way back to Aérea Chabunco if he ran out of fuel. Reinaldo scanned the sky. The FAA wasn’t inclined to come out and play this afternoon, which was a disappointment. The landscape below was even less interesting than the farm country of Missouri where he had grown up, something that almost defied belief.

That was when he noticed a plume of dust on the road below. Diving for the deck, Reinaldo saw that it was the local equivalent of a jeep. Whoever they were they seemed to be in a rush to get somewhere, something that struck him as being rather stupid. Where was there to go in a place like this? Lining up on the road, he flicked his finger on the trigger and watched as four streams of red tracers leaped out from the Colt autocannons tearing up the dirt road. The jeep was hit and overturned in a cloud of dust.

They weren’t going anywhere now, Reinaldo thought to himself as he climbed back up to a proper altitude. The last thing he needed was to get jumped by the FAA after finishing an attack run. The good thing about the General Electric turbojet was that it gave the Super Tiger a whole lot of thrust making rapid changes in altitude a snap.

“Good one Jefe” Reinaldo heard Pancho say over the radio.

He had gotten used to his Chilian Wingman over the last few months. Telling him about the present state of the US Navy had resulted in Pancho looking at Reinaldo in disbelief. The Super Tigers they flew were somewhat infamous in the United States for an incident where one of them managed to shoot itself down with its own guns. While Grumman had been unable to manufacture the F-11C and D models fast enough for the export market, the US Navy had turned up their nose at the plane. They wanted a “Point-Defense Interceptor” that was about as large, and maneuverable, as a city bus. Reinaldo and Pancho were doing real flying while their counterparts back in the States could only watch with envy.

“Whatever” Reinaldo replied, “That means you owe me a beer when we get back to base.”

“Ground vehicles don’t count” Pancho said.

“Says who?”

“Me.”

“You’re only saying that because you haven’t gotten anything today” Reinaldo said, “Who wrote the rules for this anyway?”

“Fuck off” Pancho said as they turned south.

 

[Peabody-Martini]

Chapter Two Thousand Thirty-Three



5th December 1970

Mitte, Berlin

Your entire job is to be calm when everyone else in the room is panicking. That was what Freddy’s father had told him before he had pointedly retired from his public role. Of course, his father had also said that his sisters and in time, his daughters, seemed to exist for no other reason than to drive him insane. He was reminded of both these things by the events of the prior days and what landed on his desk on a Friday morning.

The rapid deterioration of situation in Argentina had gotten everyone’s attention. With the Chilean Army making rapid advances, there was some question as to whether or not they had backed the right country in South America. Then the Brazilian Government announced that they were mobilizing their Army with the stated purpose of containing the conflict. Everyone knew that Brazil was a lot closer to Argentina and where any move to involve themselves in matters would fall hardest. It was a means of declaring war while keeping it palatable to bodies like the League of Nations, similar to how efforts to “contain the conflict” had played out in the Balkans a few years earlier. It was a position that was anything but neutral. Word was expected at any time that the Brazilian Army would have grabbed territory that was long disputed.

Freddy knew that he needed to look beyond what was happening at that particular moment and consider the larger picture. Both Chile and Brazil were dependent on resource extraction and agriculture. The current Government of Brazil was the latest in a long string of Military backed juntas with each having been unstable as the Officers in the Military had fought among themselves. The situation in Chile was different, with a President who had overpromised to get into office and then had been unable to deliver due to external factors like the price of metals on the world markets. Saber-rattling had been done to distract from domestic concerns but there were greater powers with interests in the region who were more than happy to lend aid to advance their own interests.

How would things play out in the long run though? That was a different picture. What happened when an agrarian nation, or even a coalition of agrarian nations, took on an emerging industrial power? History provided the answer for the typical outcome of this sort of situation. The actions of Chile and Brazil were not from a position of strength and their timing was the result of what they perceived as a closing window of opportunity. That didn’t mean that this was not going to be a protracted affair. That Alpine Troops from the Argentine Army were advancing on Tierra del Fuego, which was strategically important as opposed to a largely empty countryside said as much.

Freddy had discussed this matter with the Chancellor and had been told that Generaloberst Dietrich Schultz was being sent to Argentina along with whatever resources he needed to stabilize the situation. It was a move that Freddy fully endorsed, having served on the Marine Infantry General’s Staff in Poland.

That had been when the day had taken a sudden turn as two messages deemed personally important landed on Freddy’s desk. The first was that a blood sample taken from his sister had raised several questions and had prompted her immediate recall from the field. The head of her security detail had taken matters into hand and had radioed that he was returning to base with her. The second was that they had not arrived back in Rio Gallegos before the city had found itself encircled the next day. Presently, Kiki was considered missing along with the four men of her security detail and at least one colleague. It was a colossal mess and while Freddy knew that Kiki tended to ignore her own personal needs in the field, she was taking it to an extreme this time if what was suspected even might be true. And for Kiki’s sake, Freddy realized that not a word about this could be leaked. This was exactly the sort of situation his father warned him about.



Jade Bight

SMS Z66 “Schwertwal” was putting to sea for real this time. This was no short patrol in the North Sea trading insults with the Limeys and workers on the oil platforms as they cruised the circuit between Wilhelmshaven, Gothenburg, and Scapa Flow. Louis Junior had overseen the final preparations as crates mostly containing tins of food had been crammed into every available centimeter of space that wasn’t already occupied. It wasn’t until they had cast off from the Pier in Wilhelmshaven that Kapitan-zur-See Wruck had told the crew of their destination.

They were going to join the South Atlantic Squadron to aid their Allies in that region. This was met with raucous applause by the crew because everyone knew that was where the action was at the moment.

It gave Louis pause though.

If whatever was happening in the South Atlantic required a ship like the Schwertwal to be involved, then that meant that he could expect that they would be up to their eyeballs in it. It was part and parcel with what he had seen in the Adriatic Sea with Albanian Q-Ships and Mafia backed gunrunners. What surprises did the Chilean Navy have in store for them? And would they figure it out before it got them all killed? Louis had heard that experience gave perspective. Was this what was meant by that?