Post by simon darkshade on Jul 21, 2023 15:08:55 GMT
Part 2
June 15 1940
Cap Griz Nez, Pas de Calais
Leutnant Unglücklichesziel stood back with no small sense of satisfaction. His men had finished digging in their 10.5cm howitzer and machine guns; only a shadow of what be coming if the English chose to foolishly fight on now that the French were as good as beaten. The ruins of the old Blackness fort added to the strength of the position, a strength that was not needed when they had the might of the victorious German Army!
There was a rumble of sound from out across the Channel, distant yet very loud, followed by a ripping sound, strangely like a train.
Artillery fire
“Take cover!”
The sound of the shells screaming overhead was overwhelming, but was as nothing compared to the impact. He could only huddle as low as possible in his slit trench and pray for it to be over. When the titanic barrage finally came to an end, the Leutnant crept up to see what had been hit. The village of Audinghen behind them was intact, but the main encampment beyond and the gun positions being dug there were a scene of complete ruin. He raised up his powerful German binoculars and gazed through them.
Gruss Gott! Those craters must be ten metres across!
....................
The last day had not been at all combobulated for Ambassador Joseph Kennedy. On the morning of the 14th, he had awoken at his official residence at Prince’s Gate and driven to the Embassy in Grosvenor Square as usual, but shortly before midday, he had come over quite faint in a most uncharacteristic manner. That was when whatever happened had occurred, he had now decided.
The early afternoon had seen a flurry of issues with embassy telephones and telegraph connections and a great deal of activity on the other side of the square at Number 20 for some reason. Then the British came calling and the world had turned upside down. After a lot of work, he had spoken with Sir Anthony Eden, or this version of him. The attitude of the man had changed; the British position had changed from falling over backwards to get whatever possible from the USA to…something different.
The explanation they had given was plain crazy, Kennedy had thought - a ruse by a government on the edge of being made to say uncle by Hitler. Then he had driven home that evening and seen the tanks on the streets and guns in Hyde Park unlike any others, not to mention a different skyline, with a tower and statue off in the distance! In the skies above there had been planes moving impossibly fast and…other things…
He had read his papers, many of which had been delivered by this ‘new’ English government, late into the night. He had also been drafting what would be one hell of a cable back to Washington; the brief telephone connections had been quite garbled. These English seemed determined to go on and not come to sensible terms with Germany, that was for sure. There was something very, very wrong going on as well, what with them referring to Ireland as part of their country.
Now, on the new morning of the 15th, after a fitful and failed attempt at sleep, he was in the waiting room at Number 10 Downing Street. Some crazy fool in robes and a stupid hat had been at the door, like some stage magician in an obvious attempt to put him off!
”The Prime Minister will see you now, Ambassador.”
Churchill sat behind an expansive desk and rose as his guest entered.
”Mr. Kennedy. We meet again, as it were. A long time for me, but not, I think, quite so long for you. There is much for us to discuss. You have, I trust, acquainted yourself with the information we provided?”
”I have, Prime Minister. I must say -“
”There is much we both must say, Mr. Ambassador, much indeed, but for now, I fear I must prevail upon you to permit me to speak.”
Kennedy nodded. What other choice did he have?
”Your staff has been most efficient in appraising us of the general situation insofar as they understood it. I shall endeavour to speak with President Roosevelt at the earliest possible opportunity to assuage his willingness to accept a direct mission from us to work towards what needs to be done in the war and the postwar world.”
Postwar world? Was he that delusional?
”Before that, though, it would be best if certain matters could be broached with your government in an expedited fashion. We will have no need for the arms or planes that apparently are currently on order in the United States, nor do we require the mooted transfer of surplus rifles, small arms and artillery. I am given to understand that there has been some correspondence regarding the transfer of destroyers; that too is quite unnecessary for our requirements. In the words of an acquaintance of mine, we have been given the tools; now we will finish the job.”
”I will of course relay whatever you wish me to my Government.”
“Excellent. Matters are going to be moving quite quickly, Mr. Ambassador. By this afternoon, we will be beginning our aerial strikes against the Germans in Northern France and rescuing a division of our men from the talons of the Nazis. By tomorrow, should the French be in agreement, we will begin moving our armies back to France, and sinking the German fleet in Norway. But tonight, Mr. Kennedy…tonight will be something that will give the Nazis pause.
For we go to Berlin and burn his black heart out.”
.........................................
7th Panzer Division HQ, Dieppe, Normandy
"Herr General!"
"What is it, Hauptman?"
"All of our radios have gone dead and none of the vehicles will start. And there is a man in the air.”
"What?! What nonsense is this?”
”Look, Herr General. There!”
General Erwin Rommel pushed past his aide to see what Hauptman Von Köpenick was raving about. There, fifty metres up above them in midair was a robed man, pointing some sort of staff down at them.
One of the guards went to level his rifles at the impossible sight, but as he did, he was distracted by a strange approaching skirl.
Bagpipes.
”Achtung! Tommies!”
Yet even as the warning cry rang out, Rommel could see the guards keeling over with arrows jutting out of their eyes before he was pushed bodily back under cover by the blast of a fireball.
”On them lads!” roared Colonel Jack Churchill, leveling his broadsword at the command tents as he charged forward at the head of his Commando platoon.
A few bloody minutes later, the erstwhile commanding general was escorted at bayonet point to where the commander of the special assault company stood, legs akimbo and hands on his hips.
”General Rommel, this is Brigadier the Lord Flashheart.”
“General! All deine Stützpunkt sind gehören uns! For you, the war is over! Soon, you will be back in England; I daresay Mr Churchill will be interested to see you!”
Rommel said nothing, still groggy from the effects of the magic.
Flashheart rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Bloody Fritz. They don’t like it up ‘em. How long until Rimmer is here with the dragons?”
“Another two minutes, My Lord.”
“Woof woof!”
……………….
Having never traveled by dragon before, General Rommel was perhaps understandably preoccupied by the experience and did not look up as they sped back across the Channel at only a few scant yards above the waves.
If he had, he would have seen a small number of the fighter-bombers unleashed upon his Panzer division. Hundreds of Typhoons, Thunderbolts, Beaufighters, Hurricanes and Tempests sped their way over the narrow sea, their wings heavy with rockets, napalm and cluster bombs. Throughout the day, nine separate waves of attacks and were to strike the 7th Panzer, inflicting sufficient damage to render it distinctly combat ineffective.
In another world, another time, another place, they had earned themselves the name of the Ghost Division.
Now, they were just ghosts.
.................
German submarine U-47
"Report, Leutnant!"
"Herr Kapitan..." How could he put this... "We are grounded. Atop a hill, by the look of it. No ocean in sight."
"What?!" Korvettenkapitan Gunther Prien rushed to the periscope, pushing aside the clearly delusional Leutnant.
Apparently not so delusional...
They were stranded atop a small green hillock amid fields of wheat. A short way off, several farmers looked up at the U-Boat, quite astonished.
...............
German submarine U-38
"Why have we stopped?"
"We appear to have run out of water in front of us, Herr Kapitan. From what I can see, we are in some sort of duck pond. And the ducks don't seem to be too happy."
....................
"And two further German submarines, identified as U-30 and U-51, have similarly ended up in the middle of Lyonesse, the latter in the middle of a Home Guard exercise."
"Casualties?"
"Five of the German sailors were killed by machine gun and anti-tank rifle fire before their captain gave them up."
"Anything else?"
"Home Fleet are reporting two definite U-Boat contacts in the Hebrides detected by land, sea and air forces. A full search is currently underway."
Commodore Jonathan Shepherd nodded with satisfaction. At least there was some good news amid the rush of madness today.
"Well, Lieutenant More, whatever has happened, that is at least four of the blighters we don't have to worry about. Hopefully six."
...................................
Bordeaux
2230 June 15 1940
Prime Minister Paul Reynaud was a troubled man with much to be troubled about. Paris had fallen to the Boche just yesterday morning, but now...now this news from Britain could change so many things. If it were true. If it were true. Could it be true?
"I tell you, it is a trick, a damned English trick!" raged Weygand. "A ruse to seize our Empire. We must make peace! It is the only way."
"It must be admitted that seemed utterly beyond belief. Yet the telephone calls we have had from General de Gaulle and his delegation just before confirm it, or large part of it. The English have thousands of tanks and aircraft and hundreds of thousands of men that he has seen." And other...things...but one step at a time. Reynauld responded carefully.
"Previous to yesterday, had General Brooke ever seemed mad to you?"
"No, Prime Minister."
"We have also all seen the photographs of the new island."
"That is beside the point. We must act to save France from destruction. This talk is just fantastic - the English have lost their minds." Marshal Petain spoke with a quiet dignity and resignation, having already surrendered to the only solution he could see.
There was an almost imperceptible knock on the door of the ad hoc Cabinet room.
"Enter!"
"Prime Minister, it is General de Gaulle - he has returned! General Brooke and Monsieur Eden are with him and..."
The aide never got the chance to finish before the door was pushed open by de Gaulle. He was followed through by the British officials and his staff and another. He was an old figure in an old uniform, yet his stride was strong and his eyes afire.
"Mon centre cède, ma droite recule, situation excellente, j'attaque. J'attaque, gentlemen. They were dark hours twenty six years ago, but it is always darkest before the dawn."
"But Maréchal...you're dead!"
"Do I look dead, Maréchal Petain? Is this what you have become after Verdun?"
"We are defeated."
"No longer. Where I am from, the Boche had overran and conquered the whole of France, but we still fight on. Here, that may no longer happen - will no longer happen! However it has come, our deliverance is here." said Marshal Ferdinand Foch fiercly.
"Monsieur le Prime Minister, I am come from England. It is as they say. They have the armies and planes to turn the tide, even now." de Gaulle spoke slowly, as if relishing each word.
"Prime Minister Churchill has instructed me to offer an expeditionary force of at least 100 divisions and 6,000 aircraft and the full resources of the British Empire to carry on the war until we achieve final victory over Germany and Italy. Should this be sufficient, we can begin landing the first divisions in Britanny and Normandy tomorrow and begin operations to sweep the Luftwaffe from the skies of France. As a further sign of our intents and capabilities, RAF Bomber Command will be attacking Berlin tonight with 2500 heavy bombers." Eden paused, not for dramatic effect, but as the sound of a very loud aircraft overhead made conversation difficult. "That is one of our eight engined bombers on its way to Rome."
"Within two weeks, we can establish an impenetrable bastion in Britanny and the north west. Once we have built up sufficient materiel, we can begin a full scale counterattack against the Germans." General Brooke, himself still getting used to the incredible shift of fortunes, said softly.
"What about their Panzer divisions? They have cut through our lines like knives through butter!" Weygand sounded hollow, like a broken man, yet somehow, somehow, there seemed to be flicker of flame within him, rekindled.
"We've been dealing with the two within immediate range earlier today. The others can wait."
.................
Northern France
The men of the 152nd and 153rd Brigades had been force marched for the better part of three days now. They were driven at a relentless pace by their German captors , who had beat them with rifle butts and kicked and abused the stragglers, whilst some who had fallen behind the column had been picked up and never seen again. The harsh summer sun beat down upon them and the Germans did not deem to supply them water.
Now, however, the column came to a halt. Some of their escort had driven past them to investigate the hold up over the crest of the next hill. There, they discovered something they did not expect.
Arrayed across the road in front of them and stretching out into the fields on either side were two dozen strange tanks, bigger than any of the familiar Panzers, and artillery pieces between them. Holding the shocked German reconnaissance troops and others at gunpoint were dozens of Tommies, whilst hundreds more rose up out of the fields on both sides, along with strange hovering autogyros that made no sound. Oberst Bauernknopfer blanched at the sight before him.
”Resistance is useless, Herr Oberst. We have you under our guns and your troops are are surrounded by a crack airborne division and a tank brigade.” said a British general atop one of the tanks, his voice impossibly loud and strangely overwhelming. “We have come for our men and mean to have them. It is up to you to prevent any unnecessary bloodshed.”
”Very well. May I have the privilege of knowing to whom I am surrendering?”
“Major General George Hopkinson, 1st Airborne Division. You and your men are to be gathered over there in the field, whilst we look to our men and get them loaded on our transport.”
”What transport?”
”That transport.” indicated General Hopkinson as a shadow covered them both.
Bauernknopfer looked up to see an enormous shape bearing down upon them, like a ship in the sky.
”Don’t worry. We’ve got room enough for guests.”
........................
At airfields all across East Anglia, as the late afternoon began to creep into evening, the hum of frenetic activity gave way to the first squadrons of four engined Vickers Wellington heavy bombers taking off for the night’s flight to the enemy capital. The 780 Wellingtons would be followed by the larger Handley Page Halifaxes, a mere 726 of them, from their bases in Bedfordshire, Rutland and Northamptonshire, and 1052 of the great Avro Lancasters from Lincolnshire and Yorkshire. Ten squadrons of de Havilland Mosquito night fighters were to provide the vanguard and flanking escort of the bomber stream, whilst three of the precious skyships would provide airborne radar, command and control from over the North Sea.
This was to be their largest muster for over a year, after the hammer blows of last May and June, as their force had been divided by the necessary exigencies of war. Now, however, the enemy’s defences were far, far less deadly and their night fighter force was as presumed to be a shadow of what their foes had been. Neither Kammhuber’s vaunted line, which had been smashed the year before, nor the network of radar stations in the Netherlands that might have later provided early warning were present.
Forming up into the bomber stream was a delicate dance that would have been far more arduous without the aerial command ships and the careful plotting put together by Bomber Command’s operational planning wizards and their Super Analytical Engines. If everything went to plan, then there would be over 50 bombers a minute hitting Berlin from 2236. Their route was direct - straight over Alkmaar and north of Hannover to Berlin.
Operation Whirlwind had begun.
…………
The first German warnings came from Army and Luftwaffe ground units in the Netherlands, reporting hundreds of English bombers flying at perhaps 8000 metres. These began to be echoed by frantic telephone reports over Western Germany and the aerial armada was picked up by the Freya stations along the border, but to little end. The Luftwaffe’s fighters were at the front, leaving almost all of the Reich’s defences to the guns.
…………
Major Brandt had just landed at Staaken Airfield with his assistant Oberleutnant Froedl for a meeting at the Air Ministry. The lights and charm of the city were a world away from the front.
“Would you believe it? Don’t they know there’s a blackout?” said Froedl.
”You know what Goering said: If ever a bomb falls on Berlin, you can call me Meier.”
”Hmm.”
As they drove along the Brunsbütteler Damm and marvelled at the bustling atmosphere of peace and normality, the street lights suddenly went out. A few seconds later, amid the confused tumult of the crowds, Berlin’s air raid sirens began their unmistakeable drone.
“As from today, we are called Meier.”
…………
Whirlwind struck the centre of Berlin along a a path several miles wide south of the Spree and nominally guided by the grand central boulevard of the Heerstrasse and the Kaiserdamm. Adolf Hitler Platz was hit by two errant 4000lb ‘cookies’, but this was merely the beginning. The bombers came on and with them cane destruction, fire and ruin, the like of which the world had not seen before this night.
Over ten thousand tons of high explosive and incendiaries had been dropped a little more than an hour, blasting through the historic centre of the city and the government quarters. The devastation was imprecise but, even with the huge volume of bombs, no firestorm like that in Hamburg was ignited. Wilhelmstrasse, the Gestapo headquarters on Prinz Albrechtstrasse and the new Reichskanzlei were smashed to shattered ruins, whilst the Reichstag itself was not spared another fire. The Brandenburg Gate yet stood, damaged but still intact amidst the rubble and bomb blasted buildings and the US Embassy in the Blucher Palace adjacent had been mostly spared by the vagaries of fortune. The death toll would not be known for days to some. The missing included Reinhard Heydrich, Martin Bormann and Fritz Todt, whilst Joseph Goebbels suffered a freak groin injury from falling masonry.
Hermann Meier, at his estate at Carinhall, was silent.
June 15 1940
Cap Griz Nez, Pas de Calais
Leutnant Unglücklichesziel stood back with no small sense of satisfaction. His men had finished digging in their 10.5cm howitzer and machine guns; only a shadow of what be coming if the English chose to foolishly fight on now that the French were as good as beaten. The ruins of the old Blackness fort added to the strength of the position, a strength that was not needed when they had the might of the victorious German Army!
There was a rumble of sound from out across the Channel, distant yet very loud, followed by a ripping sound, strangely like a train.
Artillery fire
“Take cover!”
The sound of the shells screaming overhead was overwhelming, but was as nothing compared to the impact. He could only huddle as low as possible in his slit trench and pray for it to be over. When the titanic barrage finally came to an end, the Leutnant crept up to see what had been hit. The village of Audinghen behind them was intact, but the main encampment beyond and the gun positions being dug there were a scene of complete ruin. He raised up his powerful German binoculars and gazed through them.
Gruss Gott! Those craters must be ten metres across!
....................
The last day had not been at all combobulated for Ambassador Joseph Kennedy. On the morning of the 14th, he had awoken at his official residence at Prince’s Gate and driven to the Embassy in Grosvenor Square as usual, but shortly before midday, he had come over quite faint in a most uncharacteristic manner. That was when whatever happened had occurred, he had now decided.
The early afternoon had seen a flurry of issues with embassy telephones and telegraph connections and a great deal of activity on the other side of the square at Number 20 for some reason. Then the British came calling and the world had turned upside down. After a lot of work, he had spoken with Sir Anthony Eden, or this version of him. The attitude of the man had changed; the British position had changed from falling over backwards to get whatever possible from the USA to…something different.
The explanation they had given was plain crazy, Kennedy had thought - a ruse by a government on the edge of being made to say uncle by Hitler. Then he had driven home that evening and seen the tanks on the streets and guns in Hyde Park unlike any others, not to mention a different skyline, with a tower and statue off in the distance! In the skies above there had been planes moving impossibly fast and…other things…
He had read his papers, many of which had been delivered by this ‘new’ English government, late into the night. He had also been drafting what would be one hell of a cable back to Washington; the brief telephone connections had been quite garbled. These English seemed determined to go on and not come to sensible terms with Germany, that was for sure. There was something very, very wrong going on as well, what with them referring to Ireland as part of their country.
Now, on the new morning of the 15th, after a fitful and failed attempt at sleep, he was in the waiting room at Number 10 Downing Street. Some crazy fool in robes and a stupid hat had been at the door, like some stage magician in an obvious attempt to put him off!
”The Prime Minister will see you now, Ambassador.”
Churchill sat behind an expansive desk and rose as his guest entered.
”Mr. Kennedy. We meet again, as it were. A long time for me, but not, I think, quite so long for you. There is much for us to discuss. You have, I trust, acquainted yourself with the information we provided?”
”I have, Prime Minister. I must say -“
”There is much we both must say, Mr. Ambassador, much indeed, but for now, I fear I must prevail upon you to permit me to speak.”
Kennedy nodded. What other choice did he have?
”Your staff has been most efficient in appraising us of the general situation insofar as they understood it. I shall endeavour to speak with President Roosevelt at the earliest possible opportunity to assuage his willingness to accept a direct mission from us to work towards what needs to be done in the war and the postwar world.”
Postwar world? Was he that delusional?
”Before that, though, it would be best if certain matters could be broached with your government in an expedited fashion. We will have no need for the arms or planes that apparently are currently on order in the United States, nor do we require the mooted transfer of surplus rifles, small arms and artillery. I am given to understand that there has been some correspondence regarding the transfer of destroyers; that too is quite unnecessary for our requirements. In the words of an acquaintance of mine, we have been given the tools; now we will finish the job.”
”I will of course relay whatever you wish me to my Government.”
“Excellent. Matters are going to be moving quite quickly, Mr. Ambassador. By this afternoon, we will be beginning our aerial strikes against the Germans in Northern France and rescuing a division of our men from the talons of the Nazis. By tomorrow, should the French be in agreement, we will begin moving our armies back to France, and sinking the German fleet in Norway. But tonight, Mr. Kennedy…tonight will be something that will give the Nazis pause.
For we go to Berlin and burn his black heart out.”
.........................................
7th Panzer Division HQ, Dieppe, Normandy
"Herr General!"
"What is it, Hauptman?"
"All of our radios have gone dead and none of the vehicles will start. And there is a man in the air.”
"What?! What nonsense is this?”
”Look, Herr General. There!”
General Erwin Rommel pushed past his aide to see what Hauptman Von Köpenick was raving about. There, fifty metres up above them in midair was a robed man, pointing some sort of staff down at them.
One of the guards went to level his rifles at the impossible sight, but as he did, he was distracted by a strange approaching skirl.
Bagpipes.
”Achtung! Tommies!”
Yet even as the warning cry rang out, Rommel could see the guards keeling over with arrows jutting out of their eyes before he was pushed bodily back under cover by the blast of a fireball.
”On them lads!” roared Colonel Jack Churchill, leveling his broadsword at the command tents as he charged forward at the head of his Commando platoon.
A few bloody minutes later, the erstwhile commanding general was escorted at bayonet point to where the commander of the special assault company stood, legs akimbo and hands on his hips.
”General Rommel, this is Brigadier the Lord Flashheart.”
“General! All deine Stützpunkt sind gehören uns! For you, the war is over! Soon, you will be back in England; I daresay Mr Churchill will be interested to see you!”
Rommel said nothing, still groggy from the effects of the magic.
Flashheart rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Bloody Fritz. They don’t like it up ‘em. How long until Rimmer is here with the dragons?”
“Another two minutes, My Lord.”
“Woof woof!”
……………….
Having never traveled by dragon before, General Rommel was perhaps understandably preoccupied by the experience and did not look up as they sped back across the Channel at only a few scant yards above the waves.
If he had, he would have seen a small number of the fighter-bombers unleashed upon his Panzer division. Hundreds of Typhoons, Thunderbolts, Beaufighters, Hurricanes and Tempests sped their way over the narrow sea, their wings heavy with rockets, napalm and cluster bombs. Throughout the day, nine separate waves of attacks and were to strike the 7th Panzer, inflicting sufficient damage to render it distinctly combat ineffective.
In another world, another time, another place, they had earned themselves the name of the Ghost Division.
Now, they were just ghosts.
.................
German submarine U-47
"Report, Leutnant!"
"Herr Kapitan..." How could he put this... "We are grounded. Atop a hill, by the look of it. No ocean in sight."
"What?!" Korvettenkapitan Gunther Prien rushed to the periscope, pushing aside the clearly delusional Leutnant.
Apparently not so delusional...
They were stranded atop a small green hillock amid fields of wheat. A short way off, several farmers looked up at the U-Boat, quite astonished.
...............
German submarine U-38
"Why have we stopped?"
"We appear to have run out of water in front of us, Herr Kapitan. From what I can see, we are in some sort of duck pond. And the ducks don't seem to be too happy."
....................
"And two further German submarines, identified as U-30 and U-51, have similarly ended up in the middle of Lyonesse, the latter in the middle of a Home Guard exercise."
"Casualties?"
"Five of the German sailors were killed by machine gun and anti-tank rifle fire before their captain gave them up."
"Anything else?"
"Home Fleet are reporting two definite U-Boat contacts in the Hebrides detected by land, sea and air forces. A full search is currently underway."
Commodore Jonathan Shepherd nodded with satisfaction. At least there was some good news amid the rush of madness today.
"Well, Lieutenant More, whatever has happened, that is at least four of the blighters we don't have to worry about. Hopefully six."
...................................
Bordeaux
2230 June 15 1940
Prime Minister Paul Reynaud was a troubled man with much to be troubled about. Paris had fallen to the Boche just yesterday morning, but now...now this news from Britain could change so many things. If it were true. If it were true. Could it be true?
"I tell you, it is a trick, a damned English trick!" raged Weygand. "A ruse to seize our Empire. We must make peace! It is the only way."
"It must be admitted that seemed utterly beyond belief. Yet the telephone calls we have had from General de Gaulle and his delegation just before confirm it, or large part of it. The English have thousands of tanks and aircraft and hundreds of thousands of men that he has seen." And other...things...but one step at a time. Reynauld responded carefully.
"Previous to yesterday, had General Brooke ever seemed mad to you?"
"No, Prime Minister."
"We have also all seen the photographs of the new island."
"That is beside the point. We must act to save France from destruction. This talk is just fantastic - the English have lost their minds." Marshal Petain spoke with a quiet dignity and resignation, having already surrendered to the only solution he could see.
There was an almost imperceptible knock on the door of the ad hoc Cabinet room.
"Enter!"
"Prime Minister, it is General de Gaulle - he has returned! General Brooke and Monsieur Eden are with him and..."
The aide never got the chance to finish before the door was pushed open by de Gaulle. He was followed through by the British officials and his staff and another. He was an old figure in an old uniform, yet his stride was strong and his eyes afire.
"Mon centre cède, ma droite recule, situation excellente, j'attaque. J'attaque, gentlemen. They were dark hours twenty six years ago, but it is always darkest before the dawn."
"But Maréchal...you're dead!"
"Do I look dead, Maréchal Petain? Is this what you have become after Verdun?"
"We are defeated."
"No longer. Where I am from, the Boche had overran and conquered the whole of France, but we still fight on. Here, that may no longer happen - will no longer happen! However it has come, our deliverance is here." said Marshal Ferdinand Foch fiercly.
"Monsieur le Prime Minister, I am come from England. It is as they say. They have the armies and planes to turn the tide, even now." de Gaulle spoke slowly, as if relishing each word.
"Prime Minister Churchill has instructed me to offer an expeditionary force of at least 100 divisions and 6,000 aircraft and the full resources of the British Empire to carry on the war until we achieve final victory over Germany and Italy. Should this be sufficient, we can begin landing the first divisions in Britanny and Normandy tomorrow and begin operations to sweep the Luftwaffe from the skies of France. As a further sign of our intents and capabilities, RAF Bomber Command will be attacking Berlin tonight with 2500 heavy bombers." Eden paused, not for dramatic effect, but as the sound of a very loud aircraft overhead made conversation difficult. "That is one of our eight engined bombers on its way to Rome."
"Within two weeks, we can establish an impenetrable bastion in Britanny and the north west. Once we have built up sufficient materiel, we can begin a full scale counterattack against the Germans." General Brooke, himself still getting used to the incredible shift of fortunes, said softly.
"What about their Panzer divisions? They have cut through our lines like knives through butter!" Weygand sounded hollow, like a broken man, yet somehow, somehow, there seemed to be flicker of flame within him, rekindled.
"We've been dealing with the two within immediate range earlier today. The others can wait."
.................
Northern France
The men of the 152nd and 153rd Brigades had been force marched for the better part of three days now. They were driven at a relentless pace by their German captors , who had beat them with rifle butts and kicked and abused the stragglers, whilst some who had fallen behind the column had been picked up and never seen again. The harsh summer sun beat down upon them and the Germans did not deem to supply them water.
Now, however, the column came to a halt. Some of their escort had driven past them to investigate the hold up over the crest of the next hill. There, they discovered something they did not expect.
Arrayed across the road in front of them and stretching out into the fields on either side were two dozen strange tanks, bigger than any of the familiar Panzers, and artillery pieces between them. Holding the shocked German reconnaissance troops and others at gunpoint were dozens of Tommies, whilst hundreds more rose up out of the fields on both sides, along with strange hovering autogyros that made no sound. Oberst Bauernknopfer blanched at the sight before him.
”Resistance is useless, Herr Oberst. We have you under our guns and your troops are are surrounded by a crack airborne division and a tank brigade.” said a British general atop one of the tanks, his voice impossibly loud and strangely overwhelming. “We have come for our men and mean to have them. It is up to you to prevent any unnecessary bloodshed.”
”Very well. May I have the privilege of knowing to whom I am surrendering?”
“Major General George Hopkinson, 1st Airborne Division. You and your men are to be gathered over there in the field, whilst we look to our men and get them loaded on our transport.”
”What transport?”
”That transport.” indicated General Hopkinson as a shadow covered them both.
Bauernknopfer looked up to see an enormous shape bearing down upon them, like a ship in the sky.
”Don’t worry. We’ve got room enough for guests.”
........................
At airfields all across East Anglia, as the late afternoon began to creep into evening, the hum of frenetic activity gave way to the first squadrons of four engined Vickers Wellington heavy bombers taking off for the night’s flight to the enemy capital. The 780 Wellingtons would be followed by the larger Handley Page Halifaxes, a mere 726 of them, from their bases in Bedfordshire, Rutland and Northamptonshire, and 1052 of the great Avro Lancasters from Lincolnshire and Yorkshire. Ten squadrons of de Havilland Mosquito night fighters were to provide the vanguard and flanking escort of the bomber stream, whilst three of the precious skyships would provide airborne radar, command and control from over the North Sea.
This was to be their largest muster for over a year, after the hammer blows of last May and June, as their force had been divided by the necessary exigencies of war. Now, however, the enemy’s defences were far, far less deadly and their night fighter force was as presumed to be a shadow of what their foes had been. Neither Kammhuber’s vaunted line, which had been smashed the year before, nor the network of radar stations in the Netherlands that might have later provided early warning were present.
Forming up into the bomber stream was a delicate dance that would have been far more arduous without the aerial command ships and the careful plotting put together by Bomber Command’s operational planning wizards and their Super Analytical Engines. If everything went to plan, then there would be over 50 bombers a minute hitting Berlin from 2236. Their route was direct - straight over Alkmaar and north of Hannover to Berlin.
Operation Whirlwind had begun.
…………
The first German warnings came from Army and Luftwaffe ground units in the Netherlands, reporting hundreds of English bombers flying at perhaps 8000 metres. These began to be echoed by frantic telephone reports over Western Germany and the aerial armada was picked up by the Freya stations along the border, but to little end. The Luftwaffe’s fighters were at the front, leaving almost all of the Reich’s defences to the guns.
…………
Major Brandt had just landed at Staaken Airfield with his assistant Oberleutnant Froedl for a meeting at the Air Ministry. The lights and charm of the city were a world away from the front.
“Would you believe it? Don’t they know there’s a blackout?” said Froedl.
”You know what Goering said: If ever a bomb falls on Berlin, you can call me Meier.”
”Hmm.”
As they drove along the Brunsbütteler Damm and marvelled at the bustling atmosphere of peace and normality, the street lights suddenly went out. A few seconds later, amid the confused tumult of the crowds, Berlin’s air raid sirens began their unmistakeable drone.
“As from today, we are called Meier.”
…………
Whirlwind struck the centre of Berlin along a a path several miles wide south of the Spree and nominally guided by the grand central boulevard of the Heerstrasse and the Kaiserdamm. Adolf Hitler Platz was hit by two errant 4000lb ‘cookies’, but this was merely the beginning. The bombers came on and with them cane destruction, fire and ruin, the like of which the world had not seen before this night.
Over ten thousand tons of high explosive and incendiaries had been dropped a little more than an hour, blasting through the historic centre of the city and the government quarters. The devastation was imprecise but, even with the huge volume of bombs, no firestorm like that in Hamburg was ignited. Wilhelmstrasse, the Gestapo headquarters on Prinz Albrechtstrasse and the new Reichskanzlei were smashed to shattered ruins, whilst the Reichstag itself was not spared another fire. The Brandenburg Gate yet stood, damaged but still intact amidst the rubble and bomb blasted buildings and the US Embassy in the Blucher Palace adjacent had been mostly spared by the vagaries of fortune. The death toll would not be known for days to some. The missing included Reinhard Heydrich, Martin Bormann and Fritz Todt, whilst Joseph Goebbels suffered a freak groin injury from falling masonry.
Hermann Meier, at his estate at Carinhall, was silent.
