The Invasion of 1950

Chapter Twenty-Six

Felixstowe, England

“This will not stand,” SS Standartenfuhrer Ludwig Stahl said as he surveyed the burning wreckage. The sun was rising under protest, the first rays of heat burning away the early morning mist and revealing the wrecked patrol vehicles. They had been designed for service in relatively peaceful occupied France, rather than somewhere more extreme like Russia, and their design had been based around that expectation. A heavy armoured car wouldn’t have had so much trouble, or been so easy to disable…

Although heavier armour didn’t guarantee survival. It was easy to disable any vehicle, or destroy it, assuming that the person responsible had enough high explosive at their disposal. It wasn’t that hard to disable a Panther tank with a mine, although actually penetrating the crew compartment and killing the crew would be a different matter; Stahl could tell that it had been a mine that had destroyed the lead vehicle. The second one hadn’t been seriously damaged, although four of the soldiers mounted on it had been killed and two more seriously injured.

“We have swept the forest, Herr Standartenfuhrer,” Hauptsturmfuehrer Grauer Wulfenbach said, as he emerged from the trees. Stahl doubted it was thorough. The forest was large and far too easy to hide in, particularly for an experienced man. He’d seen it happen in Norway as well. The insurgents, the remains of the original Norwegian Army, had appeared, attacked, and then vanished back into the trees. “We have located no sign of the enemy.”

“Indeed,” Stahl said, examining the remains of the first armoured car. “What would you say caused this, eh?”

Wulfenbach wasn’t a particularly experienced man, as SS officers went, but he had some counterinsurgency experience, although it had been in France rather than somewhere more exciting. The French had, by and large, surrendered to the New Order. Those who wanted a life without the Germans sailed to Algeria, or tried to get to America. The Russians, who knew full well what fate the Reich had in mind for them, fought back and tried to hurt the Germans whenever they had a chance.

“It looks like a mine, Herr Standartenfuhrer,” he said. “Do you think we are dealing with an escaping Home Guard force?”

“That was my first thought as well,” Stahl said. “It was not, however, an escaping force caught behind our lines, as they set up the ambush and waited. It could have been an encounter made through sheer chance, but judging by the way they attacked and their position” — the SS team had found discarded shells where the insurgents had positioned themselves — “they wanted to head back towards Felixstowe. Why would they do that?”

Wulfenbach frowned. “Because they live there.”

“Perhaps,” Stahl said. He clicked his fingers, and his driver motored his small vehicle over to the pair of them. “I think it’s time to remind our second-class citizens that accepting citizenship in the Reich carries its obligations as well as its rights, don’t you?”

He smiled as the small convoy drove back towards Felixstowe. The attackers didn’t know it, but they had driven a knife in the SS’s back. The SS was charged with rear-area security, and that security had been very good ever since the invasion had begun… until now. The advancing German supply convoys were only lightly guarded as they advanced through occupied lands to the front. The insurgents ought to be dealt with, quickly, but how could they be found?

Felixstowe looked innocent as he drove though the town, and he felt a cold hatred shimmering in his heart. The townsfolk didn’t know what had occurred, but they knew that something had happened. He was sure that some of the men were exchanging smirks behind his back, celebrating the deaths of German soldiers. They didn’t yet know the benefits of the Third Reich, and if they weren’t as broken as they seemed, he was required to break them before the insurgency spread out of control. He had seen it happen, in Russia, where one act of desperate resistance mushroomed in a colossal disturbance and required extreme measures to quell… and Russia belonged to the Reich. The insurgents might win a few battles, from time to time, but their overall command of the country was never in question. In Britain…

His imagination filled in the details. The war for Britain was far from over, and already, he would have to assign more security forces to escorting the supply convoys as they left the docks and drove west. If the invading forces were pinned down by insurgents in the rear, they would be easy prey for the British forces when they launched their counter-attack and… the entire invasion would be on the verge of failure. If that happened, then he would be blamed for the failure. If he survived, he would end his days in a concentration camp or penal unit.

“Carola,” he barked, as he marched directly into the former Home Guard barracks. He’d thought about taking over the Town Hall, but it was better, or so he’d been told, to allow the Mayor to continue to run his town from his more normal haunt. Stahl hadn’t actually seen the Mayor do much more than chat to a few people — the town seemed almost to run itself — but the principle had seemed important. “Carola, where are you, girl?”

“Herr Standartenfuhrer,” Carola said. She was one of the SS’s ever growing army of bureaucrats, the men and women who ran the SS’s private empire, controlling the destinies of thousands upon thousands of souls caught within their grip. Her bland face, handsome rather than pretty, hid a razor-sharp mind and a devotion to duty that was fully the equal of any man. If she had been male, she would have been a threat to his position. As it was, he could use her talents to their fullest extent. “What can I do for you?”

“We have insurgent problems,” Stahl snapped, passing her his coat as he took his seat in front of his desk. It had belonged to the person who had used to use the office, but that Home Guard officer was now in a camp, until the war ended and his fate was decided. “I want a way of finding them, quickly.”

Carola was very still for a moment as her encyclopaedic mind reviewed the registered citizens in her head. She supervised the registration process and examined all of the cards as they were added to the files, cross-referencing them all to ensure that their picture of who was who was as complete as possible. The files were extensive, but thanks to the filing methods, easy for anyone to use.

“There are a handful of men in town with military experience,” she said finally. Stahl nodded. The men who had attacked the patrol had shown some training in their tactics, and they had definitely fought with modern military weapons. In his experience, insurgents tended to be armed with older weapons, or one stolen from their occupying forces. “We could start by searching their homes for weapons and ensuring that if they do have weapons, they will hang them for their crimes.”

“True,” Stahl agreed, mentally reviewing his thoughts. There might be an ammunition dump around, somewhere nearby, but if there was, it was well hidden. They would search for it, but there was no guarantee that they would find it, not with seven years or more to prepare. They’d heard rumours about stay-behind units hidden within Britain, but how could they be identified? “Find me their details.”

“Jawohl,” Carola said.

Stahl watched her leave the room, allowing his eyes to follow her rear, and then he keyed his radio. “Wulfenbach, I want you to assemble two companies of security troops,” he ordered, shortly. “I have some work for them to do.”

Carola returned with a map of the area and a set of personnel cards taken from the central registry in the barracks and pointed out a set of houses. Stahl was already starting to dislike Felixstowe and its odd layout, so different from the ordered towns that had been founded in the east. There, the towns were neat and orderly, with everything and everyone in their place.

“There,” she said. “That’s where the four men with the most recent military experience live.”

“Good,” Stahl said, hoping that they would put up a fight. “Let’s move.”

Gregory Davall had slept in late and risen at eleven o’clock. He ate a small breakfast and a made a quick check through the house for any clues of his night-time activities. The Germans would certainly react, and while he was sure that they couldn’t wipe out all the Grey Wolves, it was quite possible that they would unknowingly sweep up some of the Wolves in a random sweep of the town. He was on the way out of the house when he saw the first German military vehicle. It was an armoured car like the one he’d destroyed, followed by two lorries packed with German soldiers wearing the black uniform of the SS. He froze for a moment, wishing that he’d kept his weapon with him, but then he saw the Germans surrounding one of the houses on the other side of the street.

There was a crash as they broke down the door and ran inside. Moments later, they shoved out Mr Davidson, his grandfather and his twin daughters, both on the verge of adolescence. Davidson’s son was in the army. Davall whispered a silent prayer that he was alive and still fighting, but the Germans didn’t seem interested in the missing son. Rounding up the entire family, securing their hands, and left them kneeling in the middle of the road as they searched the house. Kate came up behind Davall and clutched his arm, watching as the Germans searched the house with a speed and brutality that impressed Davall.

“That’s horrible,” Kate whispered, too quietly for anyone but her husband to hear. He followed her gaze and saw the two crying girls as they knelt in front of the Germans, who kept their guns firmly pointed at the family’s heads. “What did they do?”

Davall knew what was happening, but said nothing as more Germans arrived, securing the area and watching the British civilians. The noise of the search was falling now, but as one of the Germans emerged, the crowd let out a loud gasp. The German was holding a Lee Enfield rifle. Davall suddenly remembered that Davidson had fought in the last war with Germany. Had he kept the weapon, despite the German demand that all weapons be surrendered, or had the Germans planted the weapon somehow?

One of the Germans stepped up to Davidson, waved the weapon under his face, and demanded something. The reply was too quiet to be heard, but the German shouted angrily and waved to two of his soldiers, who grabbed Davidson and his family and forced them into the lorry. The crowd moved forward and the German soldiers levelled their guns. There was a long tense moment before the crowd fell back, glaring malevolently at the Germans in helpless fury. Kate buried her face in Davall’s back as the lorry turned and moved off. Just then three shots brought their attention back to a German who had just fired into the air.

“The Davidson family was caught in breach of three laws relating to Occupied Territory,” the German said, calmly. There was a sense that he was neither aware of, nor cared about, the simmering hatred coming from the crowd. “He possessed a weapon he failed to declare, he listened to anti-German propaganda, and he took part in anti-German activities. As a result of his crimes, he has been charged with treason, third-class, and will be sentenced accordingly after his interrogation. The remaining members of his family will be interrogated and their fates will depend upon the information in their possession.”

He paused to allow that to sink in.

“It is impossible for you to defeat the Greater German Reich,” he said. His tone was absurdly pleasant, without any hatred or rage or even amusement at seeing Britain brought so low. “Accept your place or face the consequences.”

Davall watched as the Germans slowly loaded into their vehicles. They left the Davidson house empty and open for anyone to take what they liked. Some of the townspeople would do that, he knew, and become complicit in the German crimes. Others would try to preserve what they could for when and if the family returned.

He knew what had happened; the Germans had jumped to the wrong conclusion and arrested the wrong family… and it was all his fault. He watched as Kate went back into the house, her face streaked with tears, and then he looked back at where the family had been forced to kneel, remembering, fixing it all in his brain.

The Germans would pay for their treatment of innocent children.

“I don’t think he knew much,” Wulfenbach said as Stahl examined the body of former Sergeant Davidson. The interrogation had been brutal but the former Sergeant had been tougher than they’d expected. He’d died in the interrogation; Stahl was starting to suspect that they’d only picked up someone who’d kept his army-issue weapon, not a real insurgent at all.

“He’s dead,” Stahl confirmed, irritated. The failure would look very bad, even though it had probably intimidated the real insurgents, assuming that they had watched as the various houses had been searched. Three of them hadn’t had any weapons or anything connecting them to the insurgents. “Have the interrogator disciplined for his failure and have the dead man’s wife and grandfather transferred to a detention camp for the immediate future.”

“Jawohl, Herr Standartenfuhrer,” Wulfenbach said, snapping a perfect salute. His tone became a cross between a leer and a sneer. “What would you like done with the girls?”

Stahl considered it. One of the darker secrets of the Russian insurgency was that some truly horrible things were done to Russian women, in the name of the Reich, and some members of the extermination groups — the Einsatzgruppen — possessed tastes that could never be satisfied in a civilised society. In Russia, no one would have thought anything of him throwing the girls to the men, or at least those who had a taste for such young girls, but Stahl considered himself a civilised man. He had never been forced to use such measures in Norway, and the very thought of it made him sick.

“They’re both of sound racial stock,” he said, after a moment. “The secretaries can look after them for a few days until I can make arrangements to have them shipped back to the continent and given to a foster family to be raised as good German girls. It will give them the chance at a much better life within the Reich than they would have here and eliminate any tendencies they might have to defy us later in their lives.”

Wulfenbach protested.

“There are prostitutes here!” Stahl snapped, remembering that the prostitutes had just switched to servicing the Germans. “This is not Russia, and if anyone breaks the rules on proper conduct towards the local population, I will have him shot, understood?”

Stahl didn’t want to think about what Rommel would do to anyone stupid enough to defy the edict. The Field Marshal, for all of his military competence, had a strange idea of war as a gentlemanly sport. The British admired him as well, something that might have played a role in the Führer’s decision to order Rommel to take command of the invasion force, but that wouldn’t last if the SS carried out some real atrocities without Rommel punishing them for their crimes. If that happened, Himmler would take it out on Stahl, and his career would come to a screeching halt.

“I want additional patrols for the next week or so,” he said, forcing his mind back to the business at hand. He’d done something that would cause ill feeling within the British town, so he was pushed to capitalise on it and prevent the British from using it as either a cause for unrest or simply forgetting that it had ever happened. “I want them to know that we are here and that we are watching them, so have the soldiers politely, but firmly, check everyone’s cards when they meet them. I want them feeling that we are watching them everywhere, understand?”

He issued more orders as he sorted though his thoughts and priorities. He would need more men, but that would be a problem, even with the expanding shipping capabilities; the army had most of the shipping reserved for their use. They wouldn’t take kindly to a request for more SS security forces, or even a request that a few of their infantry battalions be added to Stahl’s forces for local security. Not with the British Army out there and still very dangerous. It would have to be handled by higher authority, and that meant Berlin… and Himmler.

“Yes, Herr Standartenfuhrer,” Wulfenbach said. He knew nothing of Stahl’s concerns. “I will issue the orders at once.”