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Book One World War Three 1946

Book One World War Three 1946
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Saturday, October 19, 2013

Her Story by Tallthinkev

Fitters had already started to take panels of the Yak-15. The engine was almost fully exposed, as were the guns. They could, now, see the reason why the pilot has landed in Cambridge. Both cannons had jammed. Better to be taken prisoner or land at the home airfield and face a courts martial? Or worse? Either way Arthur Marshall didn't know and didn't want to find out, first hand anyway.

'Arthur.' he turned and saw Jack 'here they come.'

Arthur looked a bit confused for a second, glanced up a saw a group of men walking towards them both. 'I see.'

The delegation was lead by the Chief of the Air Staff, Marshall of the Royal Air Force Sir Arthur Tedder himself, who made the introductions.

Jack knew some of the names, and had indeed met some of them before. After a few minutes of small talk they got to work.

The first thing Air Commodore Frank Whittle did was head to the engine 'As we thought.'

Nods from the other men present 'just a poorly made Jumo 4. Wouldn't last more than, what?' he looked to Willy Messerschmidt for an answer.

Ernst Heinkel replied 'Out engines would last up to thirty hours if we were very lucky. That was only because of the lack of materials we needed. If the Russians make their engines like this they lack the same materials we did or they are doing it in a rush. Look here you can see fatigue already. Very poorly made indeed.'

'So one mission for each engine?' asked one of the other men.
'I should think so.'
'Look at this' came call from an officer in a RN uniform. He had not joined the others in inspecting the engine.
'What do you mean Eric?' said Whittle
'You can see some distortion under the rear of the fuselage, this can't be the first engine fitted to this plane.'

After about half an hour Arthur and Jack left them to it. They started to walk away when they were stopped by the Royal Navy man. 'Is the pilot still here?'

'I think so.' said Jack
'Could you take me to him please?'
'Her, we can certainly take you to her.'

The Russian pilot was sitting in the Leper Chapel which was less than a mile form the airport.
She looked a little sullen, thought Lt Brown, was she praying, he don't know. Maybe? A Russian pilot with a conscience? He signalled the two RAF policeman to stand easy. He took the pew which was nearest, and glanced at the interpreter who had accompanied him.
'Could you ask her why she landed?'
'You do not need him to be here I speak English.'
Thirty seconds later they were alone.
'I'm Lt Brown and you are?'

'You can call me,' she thought for a few seconds, 'you can call me Ludmilla, yes Ludmilla. And I am dead now.'
'What do you mean by that, we are not going to shoot you.'
'It is better for my family that I am dead. If the NKVD think I still live, my family will not.'
'Is that what Stalin wants?'
'Maybe he does, but he never know. If I dead now am now a hero in his eyes. Beria would kill everyone. He find out. My whole village is gone.'

Brown was taken aback by this. He had heard of the purges of the 1930's but it had never crossed his mind that one person could be worth so much, and so little.

'I'll ask you again, why did you land?'
'We fought the fascists together and now we fight each other. I not understand this. I flew Hurricane, now I fly Yak against friends. It is not right.'
'Are there many who think like you?'
'It is better not to know what others think, The commissars find out you are shot and the rest of your fellows as well and officers as well, also.'
'I see' said Brown 'are you going to help us? I need to know how to fly your Yak.'
'I help you with that. But not fight those from the Motherland. You understand?'
'Yes I understand, I am not French.' He laughed.

This was lost on Ludmilla.

They talked for sometime. About flying only.

'What will happen now?' she asked.
'I don't know, but you will not be harmed. You have my word on that.'
'You officer, how do I know. Officers say things and then change mind. How do I know?'
'As I said no harm will come to you. Are you hungry?'
'You have food for me?'
'Of course, we have food for everyone.'
'You must wrong. We were told no one here has food.'
'We have food, not as much as we would like. We get it from the United States and Canada. There are no longer the U boats that sink our ships and since your army has taken Europe we no longer have to send food there.' he paused 'anyway, I'll see if I can get you some soon.'
'Were will this be, at airfield?'

It was Lt Brown's turn to pause 'That may be not the best idea, too many people could see you, and we know there are spies around. There are some pubs and hotels near they may be able to get us both something to eat. First we have to get you some different clothes.'

'In pub they will hurt me?'
'We'll just say you are from, where are you from?'
'I am from Ukraine, not a Russian. Will be just two of us?'
'Probably not the best idea, The gentlemen outside will have to accompany us.'

It was a nice evening, ahead of 'Ludmilla' and Brown walked the two RAF police. A little too rigid and military looking for the Eric's liking. Just the wrong kind of thing to draw attention to themselves.
They had been to the British Restaurant in Petty Cury. Now they were heading up Newmarket Road.

Ludmilla stopped, and pointed further up the street. 'Is that a pub?'
'I believe so, well it looks like one.' The Blackout had returned so it was a bit hard to make out. 'Would you like to go in?'
'Please, is it nice? Do they have vodka?'
'I wouldn't think so, even if they have they won't serve it now.'
'Stalin is killing us, just like Hitler did, they didn't serve schnapps then.' Brown stopped himself he had got a little angry with the young lady.
Yes, she was a young lady.
That came as a surprise to him.

So very, very very different than Irma Grese. Both once his country's enemy. One fooled, one that had done the fooling. That bitch, so many men would have done nothing so bad. No evil. So much evil to others let alone what that woman had done. He snapped himself out of it.
'Shall we go in?'
'Please. That nice. Thank you.'

Rudel Response by Tallthinkev

Rudel, was seated, almost alone, along other high ranking German pilots in a large church hall just outside Oxford. He was still a Nazi at heart, however his mind was beginning see the truth of what Hitler had done to Germany.
That was unforgivable, the Fatherland destroyed by one man.
The Fatherland he loved, the man he once loved. It was now all gone. He had heard that Speer had not followed orders the destroy all that Germany had left in last year. That, now, was a double edged sword, he could see why he had disobeyed orders, Germany had to survive after war but now the Russians had it and was using German factories against Germans.

He looked up when President Galland rose from his seat and began to speak.
Galland. Yes he had respect for him as a pilot, and, maybe, even as a man now.


Who had made him that, not him. Then again there were some elections coming up so maybe he will be President in more than just name.President of a country that no longer existed, how many times had Poland been, then not been a country? He didn't know. In any case it wasn't any more, just another part of the Russian Empire.

That big nosed fool De Gaul, look what had happened to him, a man in charge of a country that was no longer there. Yes it had been under German control, and for the most part it was still a country then, what had happened he took power after we had been forced back, and for that power he had died.There is always a difference between being brave and being stupid. He, himself had been both, but above all he had been lucky.

A closer look at those behind the table. Members from both the Luftwaffe. Herman Bar seated to right of Galland and to his left was Gunter Rall. Some of those from the Heer he hadn't met before like Franz Halder. Halder as far as he knew didn't get along with these in the old higher ups, even being one himself, too much of a old time solider?

Who knew? The more he thought about it, the more his thinking came round to fact that the war had been lost by those who didn't take notice of the old guard, real men who had joined up before the Party had taken charge. The more he thought about it, well, best not.

'Gentlemen, as you know, we, and when I say we, I mean everyone on this island, are face to face with a enemy that hates us. A man that hates us that has a heart so black the devil himself will not touch him.'

Nods of agreement from those within the room. Rudel took a better look around the hall no SS, them and the Heer had never got along. He was knocked from his thoughts when he heard his name.

'Oberst? Oberst Rudel!'

   He stood. 'Sir.'

'Are you still with us, or still dreaming of you past glories.' That was Bar.
Garland shot Bar a look, but let him carry on 'Oberst, could you please tell us of your latest 'glories?''

He outlined the operation he had in the New Forest, more for the benefit of the other men present, rather than those on the dais, he had already reported to them. It took sometime, after all he had been making sortie after sortie. travelling over the Channel, shooting and bombing what ever he could see.

Sometimes just for the hell of it.

Mostly going after targets that gave the best opportunities to hurt the enemy the hardest. He told them of his respect for those under him, the men he served with, the aircraft he had flown. How the weather would be a problem in the coming months and the ideas that they had all had to put them right before they went wrong. At least the Reds would have the same problem.

But the same problem didn't seem to bother them that much though. So what if they lost man after man, plenty more where they came from. Same went for the loss of their machines didn't bother them.
Just make another.

'Very good Oberst. Is there anything that would make your operations more easy?' asked Bar.
'No Russians would help.' Now that did get a laugh, much to his surprise.

Galland took over and with more serious tone. 'Yes Oberst, I get the joke, what do you need?'

Rudel thought for, more than could have been good for him a year or so earlier.

'As I have said I have a lot of respect for those men I command. That said, I want an all German wing.'
'Why would that be?'
'There can be things that do not translate well, things that can get mixed up. I say I want 500kg bombs and they give me 500lb. A wing of all Germans, real Germans, Germans that are loyal to the Fatherland.' He winced he knew then he had said a little too much. Not by saying what he had but by his tone.

The look on the faces of many others there did not, or never had the type of love he had for his country.
Shit, don't be a Nazi.
Be a German.
'If I may?' asked Halder, Galland nodded.
'I can appreciate your zeal, you had more than your fair share of, shall we say, of run ins with the Reds. After all you have more medals than nearly all of us put together. You must put you mind forward and not think of the past. This is a different war, a war that is not of Hitler’s making and that fat fool is no longer in our way. It is to our shame of what happened in the last ten years, that is a burden that we all must share. We have to show the world we have put that part of our history behind us. It falls to us to make amends for those wrongs, even if we have to die doing it.'

Many there did hang their heads. Most Germans didn't know of the fate of the Jews, or if they did not to the extension it went to.

'We were soldiers, we are soldiers again, NOT murderers. Continue, please, Oberst.'

Rudel did. He outlined what he wanted. No needed, to take to fight to the hated enemy. More men, more machines, more bombs, more guns and the atomic bomb.

He went on about his now almost contempt of the American’s. Where were they, yes for sure there were some still here.
Not flying?
Ordered not to fly? He didn't know.
The meeting went on.

When it was finish he was pulled aside.
'I'll see what I can do about your idea for an all German wing. As you said it would make life easier. Have you thought about the maintenance of the aircraft you, and others are now flying?'

Rudel was about to speak.
General Gunther Rall held up his hand. 'Please let me finish. We had a number of good German planes. As you know they are getting less and less each day. How many are you now operating. Five, six?'

He nodded. 'Five sir. Two 190's a D and an A, and three 109's.'

'And how many could be left in a week from now? Two? And spares, have you any? The only ones you can fly are British and American, they must, for the moment, be fixed and kept flying by men who know how they work? Better to have the British with you for now, until new German ground crew can be trained, on the British aircraft.'

He could see the logic and had to, however reluctantly, agree. 'Sir there is a problem. We have so many different types even the Empire crew cannot keep up. Sometimes I have some grounded because, well you know.'
'I'm not so sure that I do. Can you tell me more.'
'There are problem with even Merlin engines. Some were made by the American company Packard.

Parts do not match the ones made by Rolls Royce. Something to do with the different measurements they use. They should have made them all metric. It all seems that I am stuck with aircraft that on one else wants. I have flown all types from all countries. Britain, American, Italy I need something better, something that the Russians have not.'

Other pilots told their stories and then some from the Heer. The Heer seemed to have the better of it. Not so much to do, reform, or form new commands even. Train with new weapons, both small arms and tanks.
Rall smiled. 'I maybe able to help.'
'Anything that could help. Sir.'
'How about if I can get some Meteors for you?'

Rudels face lit up. 'I do not know how you can do that sir. Maybe, I don't want to know. If you can when, how many?'
'Enough. At least for now and soon, very soon. You know they are better, in some ways, than our 262's. There will still have to be air cover over your fields. We can sort that out as well.'

They talked for a little while more. Rall turned, something had caught his eye. He waved a tall lady over to them.Rudel had seen her before, didn't know from where, she was familiar in some way.

'Oberst, may I introduce Miss Leni Riefenstahl.'
He came to attention. He bowed. 'Miss Riefenstahl.'
'I forgot to tell you, Miss Riefenstahl will be with you for a few weeks.'
'Sir?' 'Miss Riefenstahl will make a film about the brave pilots we have. Those who will not give in.'
'What about the British? Will they not be upset?'
'Not at all. They will have their director, very nice man David Lean making their films from now on. And the American film unit will have that Howard Hawks, I don't know if he will be coming to Britain or he will make his films safely at home.'
'Didn't he make that silly film “Air Force”?'
'He did. I do not know if it was true, or anywhere near the truth.' Said Riefenstahl 'However it was very well made. I don't know why they have not chosen Mr Ford to do it. After all he did film a real battle.'
'That, Miss Riefenstahl, is not my area. I only fly, well flew, that is. Oberst any thoughts?'

Rudel answered 'As long as nobody films me being shot down, I do not mind.'