It took many hours for the true state of affairs to emerge, but the Reichsfuhrer had begun to suspect that Sea Dragon might fail when his own contribution, the Sonderaktiontruppen, were shattered before they had even reached the British Isles.
Reports had to be filed via landline, because of the Allies' ability to read and decode all the Reich's radio traffic. When Himmler finally got word that over half his own airborne regiment had been annihilated in transit, the magnitude of the disaster was already coming into focus.
Nearly two hundred Allied fighter planes had drilled right through the insane confusion of the air battle over the seas around England to attack the transports carrying the SS regiment. It was as though a vengeful God had lead them there. But he knew better. The Trident had guided them onto the target. He'd known the ship had that capability. But how had it known which flight, out of the many thousands of sorties flown today, had been the crucial one? There was only one answer to that. A very old-fashioned answer.
Treachery.
"It is just not possible. How dare they, how dare they?" the fuhrer raged.
The atmosphere in the command bunker was bleak, tending toward ominous. There would be many, many people to punish for this calamitous failure. Himmler's unforgiving gaze fell upon Goring. He was drunk and blustering about the large numbers of Spitfires and Hurricanes his men had shot down. That may well be, but the RAF's air defense net was nowhere near as badly degraded as the Luftwaffe chief had insisted. And the Trident had survived every attack thrown against it with apparent ease.
Yes, it was the fuhrer himself who had downplayed the importance of the ship's electronic senses. What had he said?
What did it matter if the British had a perfect view of their doom as it came rushing at them? It was still their doom.
Well, that was hardly his fault. The fuhrer had repeatedly stated that he had no feel for naval combat. It had been Raeder's job to advise him on those matters. The senior Kriegsmarine officer hadn't spoken since news of the Tirpitz had come in via safe-hand courier. Preparing his excuses, thought Himmler.
Hitler alternated between screaming at his subordinates-ordering them to deploy units already confirmed as lost-and muttering to himself about the depth of betrayal he had been forced to endure.
Himmler kept to himself, wondering what could be salvaged.
All his hopes now lay with Skorzeny.