Fall and Rise: A WW2 ISOT

June 25th
Cape Gris-Nez

The night was silent, yet although all was dark, all was certainly not calm. Leutnant Unglücklichesziel sat huddled in his latest foxhole and tried to will himself to sleep. Every hour for the last ten days, there had been the guns, the awful, huge Tommy guns. Sometimes the shells fell just short, causing enormous explosions out in the surf, just beyond the rocky beaches, and sometimes too long, creating fresh craters that had turned the green, green grass of this hellish home of his into a blasted hellscape or something from the moon. Yet the awful guns were the least of it all, really. The Tommy planes came over without the metronymic regularity of the artillery, but through the day and night, screaming along far too quickly at low level or droning far too high above in their hundreds, never destroying the constantly bleeding German troops at Calais, yet always inflicting just another cut, just a few more deaths, or just a few more supply trucks blasted with their infernal rockets and liquid fire. Every effort to bring up new vehicles, new guns or any meaningful supplies, or to establish more than perfunctory defences met with the same response, almost as if they were being watched.

For tonight, though, the Dover Guns had not spoken since sunset, and after being pushed to near breaking point, any respite for the unlucky and effectively helpless targets that were him and his men was most welcome indeed. It was strange, really, to have silence after so long. It even made the summer night air smell pleasantly sweet, like home.

It was a much discommoded Leutnant Manfred Unglücklichesziel who was prodded awake, almost apologetically, by the point of a British bayonet less than half an hour later. As he blinked blearily at the Commandos surrounding him, his heart leapt at the thought that he'd finally be able to get some proper sleep.

"Awfully sorry to wake you there, old crocus. We had to put your lot out to the land of nod so we could get ashore safely, what, but now we're here, we can go about getting your lot over to Blightly and a nice quiet camp. I say, they might even put you up in that new place in Steeple Bumpleigh for a bit. Anyway, I'm forgetting my manners. Captain Bertram Wooster, 8 Commando. Would you mind awfully if we took you prisoner?"

"Anything, anything." muttered the Leutnant. Anything to stop the way this Englisch schweinhund mangled German.

As he was marched away down to the beach, where dozens of LCAs had disgorged their loads of assault troops under cover of a wave of sleep spells, he looked out to the Channel. The clouds that had enshrouded the moon now parted, revealing an armada of landing ships coming in silently and steadily towards the shore. 

High above at 40,000ft, the RAF skyship assigned to aerial control of Operation Dirk, the Eighth Army's landings at the Channel Ports, had a rather better view of the goings on, thanks to her darkvision equipped arcanocameras. The 29th Infantry Division of XIV Corps was landing at Dunkirk, the 50th (Northumbrian) Infantry Division of XXI Corps at Gravelines, the 52nd (Lowland) Infantry Division of XX Corps around Calais and 43rd (Wessex) Infantry Division of XVIII Corps south of Boulogne. Some of the beaches selected would be less than optimal for conventional operations, but in the apparent absence of any German arcane capabilities, certain measures had been deemed possible, and the sorcerous ramps developed under Project Masada now stretched up from the sandy beaches to the clifftops above, allowing jeeps, Landies, lorries, carriers and tanks to drive up with consumate ease. What was not visible from above were the three other brigades of Commandos already pushing inland to link up with the units of the SAS Brigade and Special Raiding Squadrons previously airdropped or inserted into the porous Pas de Calais over the last 48 hours, nor indeed the Rifle brigade poised in Dover to be flown across the Channel in waves by the new helicopters once the order was given.

Aerial reconnaissance had identified only two German infantry divisions in the Pas de Calais as of last week, as most of Army Group B's strength had been drawn south to the Seine, where twenty divisions held the river line and half a dozen were held in reserve around Paris. Their transport, command, artillery and supplies had been mercilessly targeted by the fighter-bombers, attack planes and light bombers of the RAF. In the absence of organised German opposition, ensured by the continual artillery and air attacks since The Event, it was hoped that the assault divisions of the Eighth Army would be able to push inland and create a contiguous beachhead as soon as possible. Another four infantry divisions would be landed in the morning, and then the airlanding of three British armoured divisions by skyships was scheduled to begin.

General O'Connor's main objective was the same as that of Broadsword - Amiens. They would strike at the enemy like the Highlanders of old, with dirk and claymore, splitting both their attention and their fire and moving to pocket the German frontline forces. Very soon, after the quiet beginnings of the unnaturally sleepy night, Dirk would begin to draw blood.

But while both are related by blood, they are as different as can be, one comes from a world with magic and the other not.

I assume they also look different.

So has he ore his son ever tried after they fled to reclaim the throne.

But what about now, DE Britain is the most powerfull nation in OTL Earth.

Priorities: At this time, Britain is at war with Germany, not the USSR. Business first.