Re: Blood and Iron

When German troops, engineers, and factory foremen came to Russia two years prior under a two-year contract to bring the nation’s industry and production up to spec, nobody expected them to achieve so much in so little time.

But now, in the autumn of 1918, Russia was producing submarines, destroyers, aircraft, armor, and small arms — not only in line with the most advanced weaponry in the German arsenal, but also at similar production figures.

If Germany produced 100 E-25 series Panzer IIs in a month, then Russia produced 75. If Germany launched one U-boat every four months per dockyard, then Russia did the same.

And that was before one even began talking about the joint-development research the two nations had undertaken. Whether in nuclear physics, advanced chemistry, medicine, or engineering fields of all kinds, the two empires were rapidly solving their greatest challenges — and ushering in a new age of technology.

Meanwhile, railways were being reconstructed to accommodate high-speed trains, both for commercial travel and freight. Airstrips were being built across the twin empires at all strategic locations. The facilities to sustain those airfields were rising just as fast — not only for military applications, but for the growing world of civilian commerce.

The world had not even reached the 1920s. The new decade was still two years away. And yet technologically, Germany and Russia were already living in the 1930s, and in some areas, perhaps even beyond.

Currently, Bruno and his daughter Elsa were mid-flight — traveling from Germany to Russia aboard a Ju-52. Bruno made routine visits to Berlin and Saint Petersburg, not only for purposes of work but also to maintain the alliances he had fought so hard to forge between the two emperors and his own bloodline.

The best pilots the Reich could offer were at the helm, hopping between newly constructed airfields. Innsbruck to Saint Petersburg? With a military VIP flight, it was an eight-to-ten-hour journey — less than half a day compared to the two or three it would take by even the fastest trains.

Upon entering Russian airspace, the aircraft identified itself using the shared Enigma code — one of the countless innovations now standardized between the two nations. Within minutes, newly minted Russian Bf-109s intercepted them, their camouflage patterns slightly altered, their fuselages marked not with the Iron Cross, but the Russian Orthodox cross.

They didn’t come to challenge. They came to escort — a ceremonial honor guard welcoming Bruno back to the East. He was a man who had not only won the respect and admiration of the German people, but the veneration of the Russians as well. And this subtle act by the Russian Air Force was proof of such sentiment.

As the Ju-52 began its descent toward the runway outside Saint Petersburg, Elsa reached over and grasped her father’s hand — showing, for the first time in recent memory, a genuine sign of emotion in a semi-public setting.

She was panicking. Her breath grew shallow. Her posture tensed. She gripped his hand as if her life depended on it.

Bruno, immediately recognizing the signs of rising terror, responded without hesitation. He held her tight and pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead as he whispered in the most soothingly paternal voice he could muster:

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Daddy’s got you. We’ll be fine. It’s just a routine landing, is all.”

And then came the bump — the hard contact with the tarmac. Elsa jumped, burying herself into her father’s chest like an arctic rabbit diving into its burrow at the first sight of a distant wolf sprinting after its tail.

Bruno didn’t laugh. How could he? She wasn’t being dramatic. She was genuinely afraid — and to laugh at that would be cruel. It wasn’t until the aircraft came to a full stop that Elsa finally looked up at her father, tears streaking her cheeks. Only then did she realize they were perfectly safe.

But it was her father’s reaction — the way he calmly reached up and wiped the tears from her face — that reminded her she had, in fact, unraveled far more than she thought.

“You’re lucky you inherited your mother’s looks,” he said with a grin, “or else your makeup would’ve been ruined just before your date with the Tsarevich of Russia…”

Elsa’s face turned beet red — like she’d just stepped into a sauna and stayed too long. Her panic gave way to embarrassment. But for once, she didn’t rush to rebuild her usual Ice Princess façade.

Instead, she looked at her father and said something that made him break out into full laughter.

“What are you talking about, Daddy? Clearly, I inherited your looks instead of Mother’s…”

It was a wildly unexpected thing for a teenage girl to say. After all, most young women dreaded being compared to their fathers.

But Elsa wasn’t ashamed. She was proud. Her icy little eyes said it all — her father was strong, graceful, sharp-jawed and statuesque, and she saw no shame in claiming part of that for herself.

Bruno just shook his head and ran a hand through her platinum-blonde hair, grinning as he delivered one last quip:

“Oh dear Lord, baby girl… if you showed this much emotion in front of your fiancé, he’d think you were the cutest little thing in the world. Maybe you should drop the Ice Princess act… and let him see how timid and adorable you really are.”

He didn’t say another word. Rather, he stood, opened the overhead compartment, and pulled down his leather luggage.

Elsa remained seated, thinking. Watching the streets of Saint Petersburg blur by beyond the frost-dusted window. The city was already bowing to winter’s wrath, snow coating its rooftops, rivers beginning to freeze. But she barely noticed.

All she could think about was what her father had said.

Maybe… maybe he’s right.

He was old, yes — but he was still a man, wasn’t he? Didn’t that mean he understood what men and boys truly wanted in a woman? And as that thought settled in her mind, Elsa pondered something she’d never dared admit before:

Maybe I really should be myself… with Alexei. Could it possibly be worse than the eternal gridlock we’re in now?

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