Chapter 352
“What do we know,
Brigadeführer?” the German spymaster asked.
“Nothing much, Sir. The English are proving to be very adept at internal security.” the unfortunate SS Officer replied. He wasn't worried about his own skin, if there were one thing you could depend on with Heydrich he never had the messenger shot, and in this case the fault lay with someone elses department.
However a furious Heydrich was still scary and since he had a crippled leg now he was almost constantly angry. That the British had managed to destroy several caches, stay-behind hideouts and assorted secret facilities on both sides of but still close to the front and all that the RSHA knew was that it was a force of light, fast and hard-hitting soldiers that went in and out before they could be caught.
The only reason they even knew this force existed was that one time they had accidentally run into them when the British had stumbled over one cache just a tiny bit too early.
“No matter,
Brigadeführer. There is little we can do at present.”
The Offer let out a relieved breath.
“As for the Werwolf Sir, I have the report right here. If you wish me to review it for you....” he trailed off, awaiting his orders.
“Yes yes,” Heydrich waved with impatience. “Just do it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He took a deep breath.
“Within free Germany we have started building caches and the recruitment of cadres. At present the network is mostly in place in Bavaria, Württemberg and Baden, with everywhere north of those areas being available and ready within another two months. In Bavaria itself we have fifteen major caches that only Brigade leaders know about and about twice as many minor ones. Around each of these, where there are applicable settlements at least, we have cadres, all in all around a thousand trained men willing to do their duty for the Führer. Same in the other places where the network is in place.”
He cleared his throat and wished for a drink of water.
“Each brigade consists of between a hundred to a hundred and fifty men, with those brigades being sub-divided into banners and so forth down to four-men teams. They have been trained in sniping, clandestine demolition tactics and unarmed combat. Given that we get the time to implement it, they will be ready.”
Heydrich showed an almost feral grin now. He would make the British pay.
“What about
Unternehmen Südwind[1], has
Standartenführer Wendlich everything he needs?”
“Yes, Sir. He has recruited the men he needs from those sections of Italian society that still feel loyalty to our cause and when he last reported in the day before yesterday they were ready and merely awaited X-Hour.”
“Good, good.” Heydrich replied and leaned back in his chair. Anna, his white cat and his only affectation, jumped up from the ground into his lap and he stroked her back. “Very good indeed.”[2]
The
Gruppenführer watched as he waited he cold shiver ran down his spine. What about that cat made him be so scared for his own life?
“When can he strike?”
“His report states that the target has competent security and changes routines at least two times a week, though he does expect to be able to strike within three or four days.”
“Good. Dismissed.”
As the officer was gone Heydrich turned the chair and looked out the window over the roofs of Berlin.
Getting the Führer to authorize this mission had been a pain but it would teach the allies the dangers of messing with the Reich.
His parents had given him a name, but for the last year he was only known as Andretti to his men, and he'd spent so little time at home since the war had begun it never took him long to adapt to a new identity. He'd been part of the team that had assassinated the Duke of Windsor back before the war and one of the few that had come out of that mess with their careers enhanced.
Only his loyal service had made him, a career Army officer, survive the purge of the disloyal elements of the former Abwehr and it had also netted him this mission.
Unlike many of his fellows he didn't hate the Allied soldiers that shared the streets of Rome with him for what they were, they were soldiers doing their duty and that was that.
However since they fought for an enemy country thus he was doing everything he could to kill as many of them as possible.
Operation Southern Wind was one such endeavour and unlike some of his colleagues that had let themselves be swept away with hatred and forgotten that they were professionals and soldiers first.
He reached the address he knew by heart and knocked on the door. It wasn't being opened, but he didn't expect it to. Instead he turned to walk away and stepped into the small walled garden beside the ramshackle house. In it he found a tiny orchard of fruit trees but instead of admiring them as he had done a few times previously and instead performed a well-practiced series of knocks on the back door of the house that did open him the door.
No names were exchanged, there was no need for that at present, but Andretti said in flawless Italian: “Is everything ready?”
“Yes, Andretti. Our man in his Headquarters has confirmed his itinerary for the next four days and our weapons have been hidden in place as you ordered.”
Andretti nodded with satisfaction. “Good. Tomorrow we will teach the Allies not to interfere with our affairs any longer. God willing we will be able to avenge the Duce and lead Italy back to her destiny.”
He believed that as much as he thought man would ever walk on the moon but it was what these people needed to hear. Personally he didn't expect Italy to return to the fold as it were unless and until German soldiers marched through the streets of Rome again. Mussolini had been a bumbling, incompetent fool and that the Italians themselves had chased him into hell was, with hindsight, hardly surprising.
Italy had punched far above her weight and had paid the price.
And now Andretti was ordered to carry out an operation that was supposed to con the British into pushing the Italians back into the arms of the Reich.
Problem was, Andretti knew them well enough, the British and Italians alike, to know that it wouldn't work. Oh, if the British were like the Germans it would, but somehow he couldn't see the British Army burning random villages in response to what he was about to do.
Oh they would be very, very angry but whatever they did in response, if they had half a brain at least, would only shove those beyond the brink that were already there anyway.
Overall Fascist ideology was so discredited that for most, if not all, common Italians their feelings were near hatred.
The efforts to create Italian Armed Forces that were to fight beside the Allies were controversial, but those that were against Italian participation in the war had a much better chance to convince their fellows than the ultrafascists would ever have.
No, if assassinating the Allied Commander in Chief Europe would have any effect it would be one of morale and chaos on the battlefield. Andretti didn't know it but his superiors hoped that removing Field Marshal Alexander would force the British to replace him with someone not as able in the field of Diplomacy and keeping the Alliance together.
But, the Brandenburger Division had been ravaged, both by combat losses and the simple fact that the SS has purged many of it's mor prominent members. SO recruiting members of the underground Italian Fascists had been the only option. Luckily for Andretti most of them were former members of the Blackshirts so at least they knew how to follow orders and how to fire a rifle.
Their ideological fascination was a bit suspect to Andretti but it would work to his advantage.
“Tomorrow, friends.” he said with a wolfish smile, “tomorrow we shall strike.”
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Comments, questions, rotten tomatoes?
Southern Wind was originally supposed to have a far longer lead time and coincide with the Allied invasion of a certain non-surfing South-east Asian country. I screwed up the timing....
[1] Operation Southern Wind
[2] What? Ian has to get that inspiration from somewhere.
![Big Grin :D :D](data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7)
I said previously, Ian will find a lot of inspiration for those novels of his in his own work, enough to last him a few decades.