The Invasion of 1950

Chapter Forty

London, England

Winston Churchill approached the Houses of Parliament with more trepidation that he was normally willing to admit to feeling. The population of London was restive; they could hear, in the distance, the sound of guns. The Germans might still be many miles away, but an unopposed charge could bring them to the gates of London in less than a day. The entire governing centre of Britain had been sealed and secured by hundreds of soldiers, including the two who were escorting Churchill personally. The Germans would not be allowed to launch a second surprise assault on the very heart of British power.

He allowed himself a brief moment of reflection. He had gone to see the King back in 1940, after becoming Prime Minister for the first time, and again in 1943 when his own party had removed him from power. Then, he had been full of fear for the future and yet convinced that Hitler and his thugs needed to be stopped whatever the price. Almost alone in political Britain, Winston Churchill had known that Hitler could never be reasoned with, never be convinced to accept what he had and seek no more territory; it was, more than ever before, him or the rest of the world. That truth had driven Churchill for years, from his hopes that the Allies might stop him, to his desperate faith in the French Army, to the point where it looked as if German soldiers were going to set foot on Britain itself.

Instead, Hitler had gone east and so pleased the anti-communist side of the British Establishment that it had been surprisingly easy to get them to go along with a peace treaty, even such a grievously flawed treaty that played to Hitler’s advantage. It was something that bothered Churchill during his lone years as an MP and persistent critic of the government. Would it have made any difference if he had fought them instead of standing down? Would the war have raged on until Hitler landed anyway?

There was no way of knowing, not now. Churchill knew that with the Germans on British soil, all of the gathered might of Britain would be focused on driving them back into the sea. The events of the next few days would decide the fate of the British Empire, and indeed Britain’s very survival as an independent state; British Intelligence had picked up enough clues as to Hitler’s plans for the country to know that they didn’t dare lose. Not for Britain the happy state of Vichy, with Mosley and the former King Edward as German puppets; Britain would be controlled by a German governor and the establishment would be purged. That had sent fire burning down the spines of a few hundred members of the establishment, including, to Churchill’s private amusement, some members who were inclined to make peace with Germany, and the country was united behind him. The only worry in his mind, now, was simple; was it too late?

Sounds of gunfire rose in the air again as the battle raged in the distance. Churchill had seen, in the darkness, flashes and flickers of light, but now, in daytime, all they could sense of the battle was the noise. Churchill had seen the charts in the War Office, heard the reports as they came in, and knew that the fighting wasn’t necessarily going well. The Germans had the advantage of greater mobility and the ability to bring all of their fire-power to bear on a single point; the British had the advantage of being determined to win and well dug into British soil. The Germans had learned, time and time again, that British towns and cities were hard targets; they’d simply enveloped many of them and concentrated on driving onwards towards London. The die was cast…

Churchill could sense the mood of Parliament as he entered, a mixture of fear and grim determination. England hadn’t been invaded for centuries; even during her darkest moments, Napoleon hadn’t been able to land on her soil. The French had failed, the Spanish had failed… and, back during the last two wars, the Germans had failed. Now, he knew, they had landed, but they would not succeed in taking Britain. They would do it over his dead body, something that was very likely; he had already decided that, whatever happened, he would not leave Downing Street. The Germans would have to take it from him.

They gathered in their rows, looking for hope and a promise that there was a future. Churchill despised many of them. They were small men, in their way, throwing away the core of Britain’s greatness for their own private dreams. The Empire was crumbling, the very soul of Britain was imperilled, and yet they saw fit to try to enhance their own positions at the expense of the country. Where would the Empire have been if men like them had been allowed to rule? Where were the Pitts, the Wellingtons, even the Gladstones and the Parmerstrongs? Churchill looked upon the Members of Parliament and swore a silent oath that if Britain survived her darkest hour, the country itself would be reshaped and recast in the image that had served Britain so well in the past. He knew what he believed in, and he was determined to fight for it.

The Speaker spoke into the silence. “I call upon the Prime Minister to speak to us about the progress of the war,” he said, his voice betraying not a hint of concern or fear. “I ask the Honourable Member to address us now.”

Churchill pasted a suitably grave expression on his face and stood up. “Honourable Members, I speak not only to you, but to the millions of Britons who are listening, and to Hitler himself, skulking in his bunker while his forces fight and die to take an island that will never surrender,” he intoned. “I speak to them all, and I ask them to hear my words and listen, for Britain is indefatigable and will never be defeated.

He allowed his voice to quieten. “We face our darkest hour,” he said. “Last night, the Germans launched their offensive against our lines, spearheaded by units that we know and have learned to dread. We know that the 7th Panzer leads one of the attacking prongs, and we know that Das Reich leads the other, both units that have achieved a enviable reputation on the battlefield. We know that within the next few days, the fate of England will be determined… and the Nazis shall never win! They must be made to understand that one fact, above all others; Britain has never been a victim, but a country that can and will fight to defend its hallowed freedoms!

“Out there, the men of the British Army, the Home Guard, and even brave British citizens caught behind enemy lines are fighting to stem the tide,” he proclaimed. “Out there, they are fighting desperately to save us all from Hitler’s hordes, and they will succeed! The Germans think they’re winning, they think that because some lines have proven themselves weaker than others, they can punch through and win. We have had years to prepare for the day when the Germans came, and our tactics have been prepared well in advance. The Germans will be beaten!” Applause from the MPs caused him to pause.

He’d given them hope. Now he would confirm it. “And it is my pleasure to announce to the House that the units of the Royal Navy, the Mediterranean Fleet, and the Eastern Fleet, have united and have started to prepare for an all-out offensive to crush the German Navy once and for all. That force will retake the English Channel and break the German supply lines, leaving them with no option but to surrender. Britain will be free!” The gathered officials vociferously applauded.

“And so I speak now to the Germans who are currently occupying our fair lands,” he said, softly. “We are watching you. Any act committed against British citizens will be repaid tenfold. We will find the guilty and we will punish them. Your position in our land is temporary and we will recover it, taking back what you stole from us. Your days are numbered… and, just as you have refused to behave in a decent manner towards the citizens of Britain, we shall refuse to behave in a decent manner towards you. Act now, or face the consequences of not acting; the justice of a strong and democratic nation.”

He stood and stared around the chamber. His eyes lit on faces he knew and faces that were barely familiar to him. All of them, for the moment, were united. If the Germans broke through, whatever else happened, that would change but for the moment they were his, and he knew it. “We will fight them, if we must, even through the streets of London itself, but we will never be defeated.” The walls shook as the thunder of the standing ovation washed over the chamber.

The Speaker coughed as Churchill resumed his seat. “Under the circumstances, it has been agreed that the new Leader of the Opposition will forsake his speech,” he said. Churchill smiled to himself. Labour was in disarray following Atlee’s death and facing the rage of a public that blamed them for the invasion. “I ask all members of the House, now, to join me in a prayer for those fighting on the front lines and asking God for his help in defeating the scourge of Nazism.”

Alex DeRiemer had listened to the speech from the public balcony and felt his chest swell with pride when Churchill finished his words. He joined in the brief prayer and then ran down to meet up with the Prime Minister as he emerged from the chambers. They headed at once to the tunnel system that linked the House of Commons to the War Office. It had surprised DeRiemer when he’d first seen it — a person could walk from one end of London to the other without ever stepping above ground — but it made a certain kind of sense. These days, the tunnels were hardly secret; there were squads of soldiers at every possible location, desperately preparing in case the Germans managed to break into Central London.

“That was a good speech, sir,” he said as Churchill climbed the steps into the War Office. It was impossible to put his feelings into words. “Do you think they bought it?”

Churchill gave him a reproving look. DeRiemer realised, in a flash of sudden understanding, that Churchill believed every word he had said. DeRiemer had regarded intelligence work as a puzzle that needed to be solved, with no real hatred for the Germans; for Churchill, the fight against Hitler and his men was something very emotional. He would have fought beside the soldiers to prevent Hitler and his men from profaning the very core of Britain, and he would have refused to bend until they burst through and killed him. Hitler wanted him alive for a show trial, like he had done with Stalin, but Churchill had no intention of being taken alive.

“The Members of Parliament do not often understand military realities,” Churchill rumbled, after a long moment. “They see disaster and fail to understand how even disaster can be turned to Britain’s advantage.”

DeRiemer nodded, with the private thought that sometimes Churchill didn’t understand military realities as well. He’d started life as a reporter and had picked up a romantic idea of war that had never quite faded, despite knowing more about the barbarities of Hitler’s men than most Britons. He had liked Rommel, because Rommel suited Churchill’s idea of a good and honourable General.

“Yes, Prime Minister,” he said, after a long moment. “The field marshal is ready to brief you on the progress of the war.”

The massive chart on the table was being updated rapidly by a small army of female assistants; Churchill peered down at it and allowed his mouth to tighten in displeasure. It did look bad, DeRiemer agreed. Hitler’s forces had enveloped Colchester and were heading south, trying to punch through the secondary lines and hit London itself. The German positions weren’t as permanent as they were hoping, he saw. They’d trapped thousands of dug-in British soldiers behind their lines, and those soldiers were proving nearly impossible for the Germans to dig out quickly.

The air battle was raging backwards and forwards with no clear winner, but both sides were throwing everything they had into air supremacy missions. The issue of supporting the troops was starting to take a back-seat to just keeping the other side’s aircraft off the bombers and attack aircraft. Monty had said that that would be a good thing; the Germans relied more on their aircraft as flying artillery than the British. He hoped that Monty was right.

Field Marshall Alexander conducted the briefing. “Prime Minister,” he said. “The Germans attacked late last night and punched through the first defence lines at their weakest spot, as we anticipated. Colchester itself is under siege, but we have thousands of men dug into the city and have left them plenty of supplies, so they can hopefully hold the Germans for weeks. The Germans mounted a pair of infantry attacks, which were slapped back with very heavy losses, and have since grown more circumspect about operating near our forces.”

Churchill smiled. “How long can the cities hold out?”

“Weeks if the Germans commit everything to attacking them,” Alexander said. He smiled grimly. DeRiemer had a mental vision of civilians caught in the middle of burning cities, trying to flee as two rival armies battered away at each other. “The handful of panzers the Germans tried to send into the city were destroyed within minutes, so they’ll have to clear them all house by house, while we know everything about the city and the ways of moving through it. Eventually, they’ll fall, but they’ll bleed the Germans white as they do.”

That’s if the Germans are stupid enough to attack them directly, DeRiemer thought coldly, and looked up at Churchill. The Prime Minister was standing there, looking more confident than DeRiemer had expected; did he know something that DeRiemer hadn’t been told? The losses would be appalling, but if he was reading the map properly, the German army was on the verge of bogging down.

“Excellent,” Churchill said finally. He peered down at the map. “What are the Germans going to do now?”

“General Montgomery believes that the Germans will endeavour to clear enough space to allow themselves to reinforce and march on London,” Alexander said. “That’s not going to be easy, as we have men prepared to sneak out of the cities and hit the German supply lines, but they have no choice. If they can punch through and take London, they might be able to win the war even with the fleet taking back the Channel or inflict enough damage on the army that we have to make a compromise peace.”

“There will be no compromises,” Churchill stated flatly. “How long until we know, one way or the other?”

“I’m not certain,” Alexander admitted. “The Germans are currently pushing hard against the defences here, which are currently holding firm, but once they break through, they’ll be facing the might of 1st Armoured, under the direct command of Montgomery himself. If they break through those lines, their advance will still stall until they can handle their rear area, and that won’t be easy at all. That gives us time to bring up the reserves and execute Montgomery’s counter-attack plan.”

“Very good,” Churchill said. “I expect every man to be reminded that the fate of England herself depends upon them.”

He strode away into a side room before Alexander could say anything, and DeRiemer followed in his wake, unsurprised to see Major-General Sir Stewart Menzies and Sir Percy Joseph Sillitoe waiting for the Prime Minister. He nodded once to Menzies, his former boss, and stood well behind Churchill, wondering what was about to happen. Churchill had been organising the meeting well before the German offensive had begun, and he was hardly going to allow a little thing like a German assault to prevent him from holding the meeting. Churchill was personally fearless and respected that same lack of fear in others.

“Gentlemen,” he said shortly. “What progress have you made towards identifying the worm at the core of our apple?”

“Not enough,” Sillitoe admitted, after a brief pause. “We reviewed the files of all possible figures who were in a position to know information, but we failed to locate any real suspects. If it’s someone who was unknown to us and never worked for us, we don’t know anything about them. People who were known to be sympathetic to Nazi Germany, or were associated with Nazi Germany in some way, have been rounded up and a handful of them were indeed spies, but none of them led us to Skorzeny. I think we’re looking for a very deep cover agent indeed.”

Churchill rumbled his displeasure. “We have the most dangerous man in Europe somewhere within London,” he said. “I want him found and incarcerated, quickly!”

“London is a vast city,” Sillitoe said sharply. He wasn’t that fond of Churchill. “Unless we get lucky, Skorzeny can remain hidden for weeks, maybe even months, until he either escapes or tries to hurt us in some way. We do not have the manpower to search the entire city for him. All we can do is cover the areas he is most likely to attack.”

In the distance, the guns boomed.