The Worst of All Possible Worlds
As Schumacher looked at the clock on the mantle in his office, he couldn't help but shake his head. "The bastards couldn't keep to a schedule in 1914, and they're late today." This was just one of their games, he knew, but the Reichswehr really needed a good, swift, talking to.
Five minutes after the appointment was supposed to begin, his secretary buzzed over the intercom. "Mr. President, General Manstein is here to see you."
"Thank you Alice." He took a copy of Signal out from his briefcase. "Tell him I need a few more minutes to finish my paperwork."
About half an hour after the meeting was supposed to begin, Schumacher put down the magazine, smirking at the article about Wallace's
troubles. "Send him in, please. And have some coffee sent up."
Manstein walked in, his face dark. "Herr President, this is a matter of utmost urgency."
"Yes, there is nothing quite so urgent for a nation at peace as the latest defensive plans of a military force stronger than any of our neighbors."
Manstein scowled. "This is a serious matter. I must urge you once again to invoke Operation Downfall. The situation in China-"
"Is tragic, but hardly surprising. Surely you've read Faulkenhasen's reports? Chiang's more incompetent than Mussolini was.
"But it shows we cannot trust Stalin. This is how he acts now. If he were to get an atomic bomb, what brinkmanship and games would he play. Would you have us live beside a madman?" His words were all the more disturbing for the calm way he said them. "Or beneath one?"
Schumacher swore beneath his breath. Stresemann had given the Reichswehr too much attention, fawning over its generals like an ugly girl who wanted to be part of the popular clique. He'd always gone to their High Command to meet with them, rarely making the generals visit him. And he'd humored their plans, until now they were detailing the designs for genocide.
"Alright, let's go over this. With the support of the League, we launch a series of atomic strikes on Russian cities. St. Petersburg, the city of Catherine and the tsars. Baku, the source of Soviet oil, and their purported Achilles heel."
Manstein nodded. "We'll minimize damage. We can't reach Moscow, since the armament treaties prohibited research into long range bombers, but we anticipate that should be enough. Simultaneously, European forces will march east. We believe the British would launch an amphibious landing in the Crimea, and the Ukraine would rise in revolt, as would the Soviet people."
"And casualty estimates?"
"Only a couple of million." Manstein's eyes narrowed. "Far fewer than we would see in a war if both forces possessed atomic weapons. The Fatherland would be unharmed, and we would end the threat posed by the Soviets."
Schumacher sighed. "How well did the Schiefflen Plan work out? And even aside from that, are you comfortable with the deaths of millions on your conscience?"[1]
"I am comfortable with the deaths of millions of Russians if it will save millions of Germans."
Schumacher leaned back in his chair. "That's the question, isn't it? Can we coexist with the Soviets, or will they toss the world onto the flames? But they know what war will bring. Do you truly think the Russians do not love their children?"
Manstein's words were as cold as the Russian winter. "I do not think that Stalin loves them."
[1] Director's cut: "Comfortable? I'm downright enthusiastic about it! And in the future, a bunch of Anglo-Saxon males will think I was awesome despite the Reichenau Order.