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government.  Did something change while I was sleeping?”
     
    “Of course not,” Holliston said.
     
    “Then perhaps you can explain to me,” Hans pressed, “why supporting the local government requires executing its members and installing a set of puppets?”
     
    “The current government is unable to fight the war effectively,” Holliston snapped.  “I...”
     
    Hans took a long breath.  “Whatever we may think of the government of South Africa, the fact remains that it holds legitimacy in the eyes of the South Africans themselves,” he said, coldly.  “They will not take calmly to us stepping in and removing their government.  I dare say, given that they are of good racial stock, that they will not accept whatever government we install in its place.  We will be forced to occupy South Africa ourselves, to disarm the local military and fight a multi-sided war against two sets of insurgents.
     
    “Furthermore, our logistics are already problematic,” he added.  “Our supply lines from the Reich to Germany South are poor and road and rail links between Germany South and South Africa are worse, even without the insurgents taking pot-shots at our convoys...”
     
    “We could drive the attackers away from the roads if we didn't have to humour the local government,” Holliston hissed. 
     
    “And we would find it hard to make use of the local logistics network,” Hans added, relentlessly.  The South Africans, damn them, had chosen to licence American or British weapons rather than German, a decision that had come back to haunt them when the war began in earnest.  “Indeed, the white flight from South Africa will only get worse as the war spreads into formerly safe areas.  Or have you not realised just how dependent South Africa is on black labour?”
     
    He allowed his voice to rise.  “They use black labour everywhere, even in the military,” he reminded the table.  “What happens if - when - those blacks become convinced that they’re ultimately doomed to go into the gas chambers anyway?”
     
    “They’re of inferior stock,” Holliston snapped.
     
    “And if they’re so inferior,” Hans said, “why do you need an extra 200,000 troops to fight the war?”
     
    He kept the smirk that threatened to appear off his face with an effort.  He’d argued against becoming involved in South Africa, only to be overruled by the military and the SS.  Now, the SS looked grossly incompetent, grasping at straws rather than swallowing their pride and admitting they’d made a mistake, while the military were concerned about ever-increasing casualty figures.  Doubling the troops in South Africa, if they could be supported, might end the war, but it was equally possible that it would only increase the number of dead or wounded soldiers.  And who knew what would happen when that little fact got out?
     
    Holliston glared at him.  “And you would propose ending the war?”
     
    “I would propose that we find a way to avoid wasting blood and treasure on a petty pointless war,” Hans said.  “It will not be long before the chaos starts making its way up into Germany South or French North Africa.”
     
    “The frogs can take care of themselves,” Holliston growled.
     
    “They might have some problems,” Hans observed.  “We place some pretty strict limits on their military, don’t we?”
     
    “Yes,” Voss said, flatly.  “The last thing we want is a modern tank force within striking distance of Germany.”
     
    Hans nodded in agreement.  The terrain between Vichy France and Berlin was not conductive to deep strikes, but giving Vichy the power to stand up for itself would have dangerous implications.  France had been in the economic doldrums for decades, despite a slow and steady advance into North Africa.  The French Government might be more than willing to bend over and take whatever Berlin chose to dish out, but the French population loathed the Germans with a fiery passion.