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Book One World War Three 1946

Book One World War Three 1946
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Monday, July 15, 2019

The Skinny

1 December 1946
0724 hrs
US Army Headquarters
Mediterranean Theater of Operations
Cairo, Egypt

General Patrick said “Give me the skinny, Frank.”

“Yes, sir. The Soviets have crossed the Turkish Straights and have moved through Istanbul. They are now on a line extending from Izmit to Ferizli, where they are meeting some renewed resistance. Also, they have crossed the Bosporus and are moving on Balikesir from two directions. They should be there around the 15th. The Turkish forces are putting up a good fight and showing some real skill. But, they lack the equipment and supplies to stop the Soviets.“

“So, all in all, it’s looking like the Turks are right on schedule and things are going well.”

“That about sums it up, Sir, from our standpoint, although I doubt the Turks would agree.”

“Yes…I fear this will go down with the killings of the Armenians the, if historians ever find out how we did not support the Turks properly and basically let the Soviets overrun them. The critics would never understand that it was part of a greater plan to draw the Reds away from their homeland and supplies, and use up more and more fuel. It will be very hard to tell families that have seen their women raped, their homes destroyed and family members killed that they were sacrificed to win the war.”

“I certainly would not like to be sitting next to a Turk wearing a knife when, and if, they ever find out what we have done. The only saving grace will be that the Soviets should be there only a short time, and if all goes according to plan annihilated soon enough. But first the pain, before we close the trap. The Turks are the bait, or I should say the air force bases are the bait. Even the Air Force does not know that they are being used to lure in the Reds. The fly boys will be pissed as well when they find that out. Those missions never stood a chance of being completed once the Soviets had set up properly. The historians just won’t understand and don’t realize that the manned bomber is not the answer anymore. “

“It does seem like a rotten thing to do, sir, but if it is key to winning this war against the godless communists then he will understand.”

“Who will understand?”

“Why the Lord, sir!”

“Oh yeah … the lord.”

“Shall we drop on one knee and pray for those poor families, sir?”

“No, they aren’t Christian, Frank. So, praying would do no good.”

On to more practical matters Frank. Have we heard from more of the Advisor Teams? It has been 3 weeks now.”

“Team Four made it to the French lines in Syria. There is strong evidence that they had been moving towards the border since the day they got off the plane in Ankara. They apparently never had any intention of completing their mission, but that will all be sorted out when they report to US authorities. I recommend they be charged with desertion.”

The rumors are that the day they visited the front lines near… ah… Frank reaches for some papers and finally comes up with one and has to put on some glasses to read. “Canakkale … that’s the place. They were supposed to meet with their Turkish liaison and get to work, but they never showed up according to the Turks. Then, we got periodic reports of them moving towards Syria. I mean I know these guys were fuck ups, but to not even report is absurd and a clear violation of...”

“Can it, Frank. There will be no charges brought and no investigation. Can you imagine what would be revealed if a courts martial was convened? I can see the headlines now. ‘US Army orders US soldiers on a suicide mission and then arrest them when they survive’. Don’t get me wrong, Frank, I know as well as you do that these guys were real screw-ups…all 270 them but they are US Army and American citizens”.

The General continues, “We know they were sent there to show our support for the Turkish military and that we were going to great lengths to support them in their upcoming battle with the Soviet Union, etc., at least officially. But, you and I know that they were really sent to appease the Turks when we didn’t give them jack squat in real support. We grabbed a bunch of fuck-ups as you aptly described them, and sent them off to show the flag and probably get killed. How do you think that will play in the press?”

“But, Sir, you know as well as I do that the press will write and print whatever we ask.”

“I don’t know about this operation, Frank. This one might just come back to bite us in the ass. Now, I want you to do all you can to rescue those brave American fighting boys and get them home to their mothers. IS THAT CLEAR? Frank?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“All right, then. Now, on to the rest of the teams. Have we heard from anymore?”

“Surprisingly, we have, Team Six has regularly reported in and are fully integrated with their Turkish units. The men are actually doing quite well according to their CO.”

“Isn’t that the Team we sent all the way to butt-fuck Armenia?”

“That’s right, sir.”

“And, they're doing OK and obviously surviving… hummm. Get me that Cranston guy.”

“You mean the one poking around from the War Information Board. They’re a bunch of hacks, Sir.”

“Yeah, but they’re our hacks and he may be able to get me in touch with someone like that Cronkite guy.”

“With all due respect, sir, you’re shooting kind of high aren’t you, sir? Cronkite is a pretty big deal.”

“Yeah, well this is a pretty big deal as well. Plus, Cranston’s is here and is under my control. So, let’s use him while we can.”

“Yes, sir…”

Frank left the room and then the General went over to the mirror and thought, I need a shave and a trim. I’d better get a change of uniform as well. Sarah though my right side was my best. Now, how can I explain this fuck up of an Advisor program without getting in trouble…shit maybe I should call this off. Ah, what the hell.

He crosses over to the intercom and buzzes the corporal outside.

“Bring me my best uniform, corporal.”

Something is heard coming from the intercom, but is unintelligible.

“Yes, that’s right. Now snap to it! Oh, and get me that wiz kid barber that Philips always talks about. The one who used to work in Hollywood. Get him in here within the hour with his barber kit and ready to work.”

The intercom says something and the General walks back to his mirror and takes out his comb.


If you will recall, General Green was the commander of the 10th Armored Division. The Division was decimated by the General’s inept leadership near the beginning of the war.
He was tortured by Beria himself.[i]


[i] - The Red Tide – Chapter 12 – Death of a Division by Harry Kellogg III

Tuesday, June 18, 2019

Hervé's Condition

He was so bored he thought he was going to jump out the window. Luckily it was closed. His “teacher” was more like a professional circus performer past his peak. He strutted around extolling the virtues of Stalin, the Soviet system, and Communism for hours on end. His performance was always the same, as if repetition would make it better but it didn’t.

Hervé was being groomed for a high level position in the new French Communist Government once he graduated, but that was two longlong years in the future. Now, he had to memorize saying after Marxist saying and repeat them endlessly, so that they became second nature. Many of the bits of propaganda were so preposterous that it was very hard not to laugh even thinking about them much less perform them. He dreaded repeating the lines in front of the class, or god forbid the whole school on May Day, or some other ridiculous holiday. Oh merde, he thought about God and even used his name in a thought. He was backsliding into the past.

His father was a committed Communist and a Marxist scholar. Father had joined the Resistance because of his beliefs. He was overjoyed when the Soviets had come to replace Capitalism with the only true governing system that would let the common man live, truly live without the oppression of the controlling elite.

Hervé tried to avoid the clichés even when he was thinking. Words like proletariat, the bourgeoisie, Worker’s Paradise just seemed to fall flat and had no essence of what Communism was all about. He was a dedicated Marxist himself just not one who accepted the rhetoric of the current generation. Hervé’s generation would need more compelling rhetoric and not the repeated clichés his instructor was expounding upon now.

Oh merde, it was his turn to recite, and then repeat the cliché response to the quote! He stood up and pried from somewhere deep in his memory…

“Anyone who knows anything of history knows that great social changes are impossible without feminine upheaval. Social progress can be measured exactly by the social position of the fair sex, the ugly ones included...Karl Marx.”

Oh, how he hated this quote and its response. His joy of joys, the love of his life, was considered by most to be ugly. Betty was so beautiful his heart ached thinking about her. But, to the society at large she was horrid. Her ample breasts, slightly protruding teeth, large lips, and those eyes that he could look into forever were most alluring to him. Others saw something quite different.

Except for her breasts, Betty was very thin and her legs were so out of fashion as to be jeered at by many. To him, her legs were divine. They were muscular with the calves almost as wide as the thighs and slightly protruding knees. He could look at them and her walking for hours. Her stomach was amazing with the six muscles that were below the rib cage fairly well defined. He had only seen these muscles on a few occasions when they had snuck away and explored each other’s bodies. She had very un-lady like shoulders that were also quite muscular. He adored them and her very long and shapely arms. But, the defining fact was that she was from Haiti and considered colored. In fact what he loved the most about her was her skin. Skin so black, you could see stars if you looked close enough. Interesting enough her hair was naturally straight and soft. Probably some slave owner raped one of her ancestors, but he preferred not to think about that.

Hervé especially liked Stalin’s version of Communism because he preached racial equality. Not many practiced it, but it kept others from attacking him and Betty when they were in public. Oh, it still happened in private when no one else could hear. Nègre was uttered under the breath of many a good Communist student when they thought they could get away with it. It hurt. It hurt both of them a lot. But, they had each other and a society that overtly condoned their love for each other, and it was love.

They had actually had many chances to make love, but had decided to wait until they were more mature. They really wanted to do what their bodies wanted. Nevertheless, their heads and hearts stopped them from consummating their physical desires for each other. His parents loved Betty and her family. The two groups had raucous dinners together. In fact, that is how they had met, through their parents. His parents were French to the core and that was just fine with him.

Betty and Hervé were very excited about the coming summer. The Young Pioneers program had been imported to France from the Soviet Union. Technically, they were part of the Soviet Union now, but everyone knew what was meant when that term was used. The program proved wildly popular. So much so that the sons and daughters of staunch Capitalist parents were sneaking out to meetings, to the Centers for comradeship, and all that the program had to offer. The Soviet troops were building meeting halls all over France and Germany and the youth were responding. The parents were having fits, but the authorities were on the side of the youth. Those in charge even went so far as to make the clubs mandatory in areas where attendance was low. From what Hervé had seen in his area, it was very popular.

Betty and he were going to be camp counselors this summer. First, they would have to help build the camp, and then they would be on the staff. A beautiful area near their hometown had been acquired, much to the chagrin of a formerly rich family. The property had beautiful woods and a large lake. There was plenty of acreage for the camp to grow and offer a good variety of programs. It would be a summer made in heaven as far as Hervé was concerned. If he was a counselor, no one could whisper Nègre at Betty without repercussions of some sort. Repercussions he was happy to mete out. The camp gave them a chance to truly be alone.

Excitement was in the air tonight. The famous movie “Circus” was being shown at the Pioneer Center. [ii] It had French subtitles and was about a white American woman who almost gets killed in a small town when she gives birth to a half Negro baby. It is supposed to be very well done and is a heart-wrenching story about the racial problems in America. He was going to proudly hold Betty’s hand and sit next to her. Maybe, he would even put his arm around her. He would have to see what she had to say about that though.

For now, he had to recite the entire justification memory the communist cliché he had just read. The recitation was really very boring, even as he was doing the exercise and all eyes were on him. Normally he enjoyed the spotlight, but this was so mind numbing. As he slogged through it, he knew he was going to get good marks. The instructor was smiling away with each rote phrase come from somewhere in his young brain to the fore and translated into sounds others could understand. Some of the audience would never fully understand the meaning, but they would understand each word.

Hervé was so good at memorizing and regurgitating meaningless phrases that his mind started to wander. He glanced at Betty, who was sitting very properly but with a quite mischievous and exciting look on her beautiful face. Her outward show caused an uncontrollable physiological change in his teenage body that he did not want to happen as he was standing in front of the class. She knew exactly what she was doing and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

Thank goodness the time to change classes arrived before his urges became totally obvious to all his classmates. He was able to make it to his seat before being discovered by all but Betty. He waited for everyone to leave the class and pretended to rearrange his books on his lap. Just as he got up to leave, Betty, who had also been waiting for her turn to speak to him did the worst …or the best thing he had ever experienced.

She made sure they were alone and reached over and gently brushed her hand over his crotch. He thought he was going to die but was in heaven. Then she bounced everything she had and walked out of the room to leave him alone in his agony. Oh, she would pay he thought she would be so frustrated when he got done with her. He could hardly wait for tonight and this of course did not do his condition any good.

The Extraordinary Gypsies

Nebe was a product of war. It was all he knew for the last eight years. He lived in Sudetenland and had been under occupation by one enemy or another for eight of his sixteen years. He knew nothing else, but being ordered to do work here, or take your belongings and move here. All, seemingly at random. 

He and his companions were Lalleri Gypsies and were considered by to be different than the Roma, and other ethnic groups that the Nazis rounded up and exterminated by the millions. In some people’s minds, Lalleri’s difference was good, and in others, it was bad.

For almost unexplainable reasons, the Nazis had let them roam almost freely throughout the war. Himmler exempted two tribes in 1942, and his was one. It seemed that Himmler considered them good gypsies, who had Germanic traditions and would spread those traditions throughout the areas they traveled to. As long as they didn’t intermarry, they were left alone. But, due to jealousy, and scarcity of food and shelter, the Lalleri stayed very mobile and moved quite often. [i]

Their special status did not mean that they were totally left alone. They were the first to be commandeered for this or that public works project. Also, they were forced to work in all manner of factories during the war years, which ironically made them very valuable and talented. Their reputation and skills had gone so far as to reach the Soviet Union. At the end of the last war a detachment of NKVD troops had sought them out on orders of a mysterious man everyone called Sergo. Under Sergo’s orders, they were shipped by rail to St. Georgen in Austria that held the Bergkristall underground factory and concentration camp.[ii]

Everyone in his group thought the end was near. Two men from his group, of over a thousand, tried to flee and then fight back. They were not killed, however. They were just caught, punished, and put back in the group. It was understood that if they tried again, they would be killed.

When the group arrived at Bergkristall, they were met by a huge man everyone just called Georgie. Once Georgie looked at you, you did not attempt to run or cause trouble again. He didn’t even have to say anything. You knew from his gaze what would happen if you tried again. Bergkristall was where the Germans assembled the first combat jet, the Me 262.

At the end of World War Two, the Americans reached Bergkristall first, and looted all they could before the Soviets took over by a negotiated agreement after two weeks. Bergkristall was in the Soviets’ new territory as was Peenemunde, and most of the other secret Nazi weapons development sites. It turns out the Americans did not find the most important part of the complex. It was where Nebe had been sent to work along with his relatives and other tribe members.

The Lalleri Gypsies were to become the most valuable factory workers in the Soviet Union. Sergo knew this from his tests that everyone had to take. This group had scored off the charts in various and very valuable skill sets. Their spatial skills were like something no one had ever seen. To a person they had solved incredibly hard third dimensional puzzles that Sergo had designed himself. And, they had all solved them with ease.

In a world of brute strength and back breaking physical labor, these people were almost useless. In a world of science, they were worth their weight in gold. Sergo understood the extraordinary value of their skills and talents. His plan was to match them up with Alan Turing.

[i] - Gypsies Under the Swastika By Donald Kenrick, Grattan Puxon

[ii] - St. Georgen - Gusen - Mauthausen: Concentration Camp Mauthausen Reconsidered By Rudolf A. Haunschmied, Jan-Ruth Mills, Siegi Witzany-Durda

Sunday, May 19, 2019


James Cairncross followed Alan Turing to the little house near P Street. He watched as Turing went inside, and a few minutes later he had the proof he needed. He clearly saw the great Alan Turing kissing a mana very young man, which was even more damning. It meant that Turing was in a very delicate position. A position that would make it much easier to turn him into a Soviet defector.

Cairncross was one of the remaining members of the Cambridge Five Soviet Spy ring. So far he had evaded detection and was working side by side with Allan Turing on a top-secret project. Alan had made a device that cracked the German and Japanese Enigma code. The machine had been destroyed after the last war. Because of Turing’s work, the war ended two to four years earlier than anticipated.

Cairncross knew a defection by Turing would greatly enhance the progress of the Soviets in making a rival calculating machine. Alan needed an environment that was conducive to the way he worked, and in the way he behaves around other people. He was sure Beria and Stalin could provide just what was required.

Alan had all the schematics for a new device in his head. Using electronic parts that other Soviet spies had smuggled out of the United States, Turing could easily create another. Such a machine would be invaluable to the spy network of the USSR and would eventually revolutionize mathematics and the world of code breaking. Cairncross was convinced that ultimately, these machines would go on to rival human beings.

First, Cairncross had to get Turing to commit to communism, or at least to renounce his British heritage. Alan’s defection might be possible if somehow, someone turned Turing into the police and he was prosecuted for sodomy. Such behavior so upset the British authorities that they were willing to put people in jail to stop it. The British penal system even gave men convicted of buggery, drugs to control their ardor.

Cairncross knew that the other four members of The Cambridge Five were also homosexuals. Their Soviet handlers didn't seem to mind that fact, so it made sense they might overlook Turing’s choices as well. He certainly hoped this was the case, because Alan Turing was a goldmine.

The initial step was finding a policeman who could be persuaded to investigate Turing. Cairncross understood you have to do some investigating yourself to find the most likely candidate and somehow convince him to search the poor fellow’s apartment. You could easily plant some incriminating evidence to make the whole process go faster.

In talking with Alan, Cairncross determined that he was not political or a staunch nationalist. All he cared about was solving puzzles. His calculating machine would be the ultimate puzzle that would solve other ultimate puzzles. He doubted very much that Alan could resist the challenge. The choice was simple, jail and humiliation, or a lifetime of solving puzzles.

Cairncross was fairly confident Turing would make a decision that was favorable to the Communist cause. Alan Turing was the key to a communist victory. Now, all Cairncross had to do was to make Alan's past determine his future.

Patton Rides Again

They were flyingalmost literally flying in a tank over the roughest terrain they could find in Sicily. Mark, a test driver for the manufacturer, knew that the Patton was going to be one hell of a tank the first minute he saw it. But, he had no idea of how well it would perform under simulated combat conditions after being transported thousands of miles in the bottom of a LCT.

The tank was to travel from New York to the beautiful island of Sicily where the US still had a foothold in Italy. Knowing the power of the US Navy, the Reds had not even attempted to attack or even send recon flights over Sicily. The area was on the back burner as far as the Reds were concerned, so it was a perfect place to see how the new tank stood up to the conditions in the Med.

Ten tanks had been made seaworthy and shipped, like any amphibious force would be, where they were off loaded straight to the beach in a simulated assault. Eight of out the ten performed flawlessly with one needing minor repairs. The ninth was on its way in an hour, and the tenth just would not start. The tenth had a mechanical problem with the engine and was waiting for a replacement. This problem was a valuable learning tool. Mark kind of wished that other issues had shown up as well. He couldn’t believe that they were going to get a 90% effective rate right off the ship.

The point to keep in mind was that these ten were basically hand made with loving care. In reality, these tanks would be massed produced and quickly loaded into transports for the long journey to parts unknown. He had been in the service when they were testing the M26 Pershing. It seemed like a good weapon while under the ideal conditions that the army tested it, but had been found quickly wanting in many areas once they were under combat conditions.

This testing program in Sicily, and who knows where else, was an attempt to change the misstep that doomed the M26. It might have been a good tank with a better engine and transmission but the poor performance at maneuvering against even the T34 was enough to doom it. He didn’t know why the Patton, a brilliant British design had been married with the hitting power of a great American 90 mm cannon and turret. But, it had worked from all he had experienced so far.

The Patton was very quick and light on its feet for such a big tank. It was a solid and powerful engine with a relatively smooth transmission made it a breeze to drive even under horrible conditions. It was the most stable and fastest tank he had ever driven, and that was saying a lot. He had driven all the major tank designs in the world during his stint in the Army, even all the Soviet models except the IS3 and the rumored T54 coming on line.

Monday, April 22, 2019

Bird Brains

Dr. Skinner had been kept waiting by generals and admirals numerous times. This time he was particularly anxious due to the fact that every hour wasted, meant more American boys were dying. The unnecessary deaths didn’t seem to matter to these Pentagon types. Skinner had never been in the military, but even he knew that there were two kinds of soldiers, the Fighters and the Clerks. He was always being kept waiting by the Clerks. The Fighters on the other hand always got to the point, and more importantly got the point. The guy he was waiting for had to be one of the Clerks.

Finally, an aide to the Admiral motioned him into the inner sanctum of the most senior Clerk he had been privy to. The admiral was huge, both in girth and height. The Clerk introduced himself as Admiral Reinhardt. He was in a spotless uniform. Unusually, for a Clerk, he got right down to business.

He had a low voice that Skinner was sure could still be heard for blocks. “I’m going to be blunt Mr. Skinner, I was the one who pulled the plug on your bird brained idea the first time. I personally thought at the time that your proposal of pigeon guided bombs was one of the most lame brain ideas I’ve ever encountered. When the project came across my desk, I took one look at the initial proposal and immediately canned it. I never looked back.”

Skinner was about to explode on the man, but the officious Clerk held up his hand and continued. “I have since seen the error of my ways. It seems my right hand man races pigeons. When he came across your memo proposing that the Reds were using your unorthodox guidance system he became very, persuasive. Over a period of a few days, he harangued me on the virtues of your bird’s brains. He cited chapter and verse of your paper along with others, he brought to my attention, extolling the virtues of pigeons. He was certain that the Soviets had indeed taken the idea I rejected and created a “wonder weapon” that had stopped our bombers cold.”

“Quite frankly, he wore me out.” The Admiral pointed to the officer standing near the door. “Captain Claiborne this is Dr. B.F. Skinner. Dr. Skinner this is Captain Claiborne.”

Captain Claiborne rushed forward and grabbed the Doctor’s hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you finally Dr. Skinner. Your idea is brilliant and the facts all point to the Soviets using your theories” His enthusiasm went on for a good five minutes before the Admiral had had enough. Skinner himself could not get a word in edgewise and was very glad that Captain Claiborne was on his side in this discussion.

After Admiral Reinhardt put an end to the Captain’s filibuster, he once again got to the point.

“I think you can see how the Captain eventually was able to get me to take a second look at your theory, that the Reds are using your idea to shoot down our bombers and more importantly to me, how they will probably use the system to damage and sink our navy. Please arrange a demonstration for Admiral King, within a week, to assist us in convincing him to take your idea seriously. Don’t worry, Doctor, this time you will have expert assistance in exactly what you have to do in order to convince a jaded Admiral like me. Captain Claiborne will be attached to your side (and quite frankly away from mine) for the remainder of this project.

You will need to do two things. Present and then convince Admiral King of your theories and devise a way to counteract your own creation. Captain Claiborne here has assured me that this is a real and grave threat to any future and current naval operations. If the Commies are working on a guided missile that can outrange our guns and even planes we are in deep shit as you are fully aware.

For your information, we believe the Soviets’ have already tested shall we saya guided missile, on one of our ships near Sicily. Many of us thought it was a random hit from a stray Soviet SAM, but in light of your theories, we now believe it was indeed a guided missile. A guided missile that was deliberately sent to sink a freighter loaded with 7000 troops on their way to Egypt. By sheer luck, it went right through the ship and exploded after it exited the other side. 16 were killed, it should have been much worse. It would appear that the Reds have not perfected the warheadyet, but according to witnesses on the freighter it came from over the horizon and headed unerringly for their ship…‘like it was being flown’ were the exact words of the Captain of the ship and several others.”

The missile flew so fast that very few saw it or heard it until after it hit the ship, very much like the descriptions of the V2 rockets. That’s probably why it went right through the ship without exploding. Just too damn fast.”

Skinner finally got an opportunity to talk. “Admiral, may I have a copy of all the reports and testimonies of the witnesses? I will need all the information I can gather if I am going to fulfill the second part of your mandate. I will need everything pertaining to this project and access to all who have seen the weapon in action.”

“Of course, Doctor. Once again, I do not regret the decision I made the first time I laid eyes on your project. In my opinion, it was just too outlandish and too good to be true. I now admit that I was wrong and humbly ask for your help in ending this scourge of missiles. Give me a 16-inch naval shell the size of a small car and the smell of gunpowder over this guided bullet any day. That’s how a naval battle should be fought.”

Somehow, Dr. B.F. Skinner had a hard time picturing the Clerk getting anywhere near a 16-inch naval cannon or gunpowder, but left the room on a cordial note.