John Ringo: Watch on the Rhine

“Peace, gentlemen,” calmed the chancellor. “Mühlenkampf, Günter is right to a degree. While, I assure you, there are some people, especially down in Bavaria,” — the chancellor rolled his eyes heavenward — “who would welcome the return of the SS with cheers, most of our people would turn away. Moreover, my own political support might well melt away. I cannot let you have all your symbols. Is there something else?”

Mühlenkampf considered. “Our medals? Reissue them, perhaps in a slightly different design?”

The chancellor wriggled his fingers dismissively and said, “We already are, after a fashion.” Then he thought of the casualty lists from the planet Diess, transferred his wriggling fingers to tap his lips and added, “Mostly posthumously, I’m afraid. Yes, we can do this.”

“And division names,” bargained Mühlenkampf. “Give us any numbers you want. But let us go by our old division names.”

“What?” snorted Günter. “LSSAH? Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler?”

“We had other divisions,” answered the general, coolly. “ Wiking ? No crimes to speak of to their name. Götz von Berlichingen? A clean record there, too. You said five divisions, Herr Kanzler ? Okay… Wiking, G von B… Not Hitler Jugend but just Jugend ? Hohenstauffen ? Frundsberg ? Yes, those five. No crimes there except one attributed to Jugend but as likely to have been committed by 21 st, be it noted, Wehrmacht , Panzer Division. And maybe use some of the others as independent brigades within the Korps .”

“Yes, Herr Kanzler . The medals, the names… uniforms a bit different than the norm. Maybe even the Sigrunen after we have shown what we can do? It is not much to ask for and I can build, rebuild rather, some pride with them.”

Mühlenkampf’s face lit with a sudden smile. “There is one other thing, Herr Kanzler . The SS was perhaps the most cosmopolitan armed force in history, certainly the most cosmopolitan force of its size. We had battalions, regiments, brigades and divisions of Dutch, Belgians, French, Danes, Swedes, Latvians, Estonians… damned near every nationality in Europe. We even had control for a while, though they were not part of us, of one Spanish Division, the Spanish Azul, or Blue, Division. Moslems? Lots. I have no doubt but that, had we won the war and some of the Reichsheini’s [8] A contemptuous name for Heinrich Himmler, head of all the branches of the SS, to include the Waffen, or Armed, SS. wilder schemes for a Jewish Homeland come to pass that there would eventually have been a brigade of the Waffen SS that would have sported armbands reading, ‘Judas Maccabeus.’ Yes, I am serious,” the former SS general concluded.

“Your point?” queried the chancellor.

“Just this. Put out the word. Rather, let me put out the word, and we might have a few more former SS men for cadre than you think. And perhaps some new volunteers as well.”

“What do you get out of this, Herr General ?” asked Günter querulously.

“Something you would never understand, bureaucrat.”

Not even the view of the stunning, busty and leggy blonde gracing the Tir’s [9] A Tir is a mid-level Darhel corporate executive. reception room could lift Günter’s spirits. Appalled beyond measure and beyond endurance by the chancellor’s decision to resurrect — even in muted form — the hated Waffen SS, the bureaucrat had decided to do the unthinkable, to give his support to the nominally allied but, he was sure, secretly hostile, Darhel.

Still, the SS ? It was intolerable. And that the chancellor had ignored him? Insulting.

Worse, Günter was certain, the chancellor would not stop with the SS. With the SS in hand, owing their allegiance to the Chancellor, the bureaucrat could foresee another dark age for Germany. To date, the Kanzler had depended upon a loose coalition of moderate and left political streams. With the reborn SS in hand, might he not cast aside that dependence? Günter desperately feared it might prove so.

Remilitarization was not the least of it. How Günter had fought to keep the conscription laws somewhat ineffective. Surely no threat could justify dragging unwilling and enlightened young boys from their homes and subjecting them to the brainwashing that, he had no doubt, was the military’s stock in trade. How else but through brainwashing could the military convince sensible young men to do something so plainly not in their personal interest?

Günter, himself, had done his “social year” [10] To a large degree German boys get a choice of Army or some form of alternative service. in something useful to society, assisting in a drug rehabilitation program. He had not wasted that year in some atavistic pandering to a spirit long obsolete.

The future seemed dark, dark.

Günter’s reveries were interrupted by the blond receptionist. “The Tir will see you now, mein Herr. ”

Upon entering the Tir’s office Günter was surprised to see several political allies also present, along with one soldier. Their chairs were gathered in a semicircle in front of the Darhel’s massive desk.

The Tir’s German was grammatically excellent, though tinged with a lisp caused by air passing between his sharklike teeth. Even with the lisp, Günter had no difficulty understanding the alien when he said, “Please, Herr Stössel, do sit. I am somewhat surprised to see you after you refused our last offer.”

Taking the chair indicated by the alien’s pointing finger, Günter sat silently for a long moment. When, finally, he spoke he said, “When I refused your offer it was before the chancellor decided to turn Germany into a Fascist state again. Better we should be destroyed than release that horror again upon the world.”

In a voice so tinged with vehemence and hate that he was nearly spitting, one of the other humans interjected, “Germany has always been a Fascist state.”

Günter ignored the speaker. He was himself a Green and while, yes, there was a strong leftist trend within the Green movement, the speaker, Andreas Dunkel, on the other hand, was an outright Red. Every time Günter thought upon the ten trillion marks so far spent on trying to undo the ecological damage the Communists had done to the east of the country, he bristled. Even that enormous sum was inadequate; only time could heal the wounds inflicted on Mother Earth by the Communists.

He bristled now too but, suppressing it, turned his full attention back to the Tir.

“Your species is dangerous,” the Tir said, “and among your species your people are perhaps the most dangerous of all. While the Federation needs you now, in the long run you are as much a danger to civilization as are the Posleen.”

The Tir judged his audience well. Indeed, he had a very complete file on Günter Stössel downloaded into his AID, the Artificial Intelligence Devices only the Darhel produced. Much of Günter’s wait in the reception area had been the result of the time the Tir had needed to study the file.

“The Galactic Federation is a peaceful place, or was before this invasion,” said the Tir, honestly. “Moreover, it is a place where resources are carefully guarded. We produce few goods but of high quality; this is how we keep our ecologies pure.” This last was true enough, but the truth concealed a greater falsehood. Galactic civilization kept resource expenditure low by more or less literally starving the Indowy who made up the bulk of its population, produced the bulk of its admittedly excellent products, and had the least share of its power.