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Nice. Hitler has now more propaganda to use against GB.
He does indeed. Goebbel's is going to have a field day at Munich.
You won't believe where. Hint: it won't be Munich.
Part Twenty Nine
September 5th 1938, London, England
As they left Churchill’s office and exited the house one by one, Connor stayed behind and began talking to Churchill’s secretary again. Bradley could still hear a stutter, but the difference was that both Connor and the girl were smiling widely. Bradley turned to Allenby and tapped him on the shoulder.
“I thought you asked her out?”
Allenby grinned for a while, but then became dead serious.
“I wouldn’t snatch a girl from under a man’s nose. It would be despicable; to say nothing of the fact I’m taken myself. I simply gave her a strong hint of Brower’s feelings, and then gave Brower a good nudge in the ribs”.
Allenby grinned again and crossed the street. The team shuffled into the office corridor. Moss handed the files over to Bradley.
“Just put them in the briefing room. We’ll go over the files on Czechoslovakia tomorrow”.
“Well, what are we going to do for the next four hours?”
“What anyone does after a mission. We’re going drinking”.
Bradley smiled, and headed up the stairs. He dumped the papers on the table, and then noticed that someone had changed Hitler’s threat level when they were gone. In determined strokes, someone had drawn a large 50 all over the picture, not bothering to even erase the previous number.
“Huh”, he said to himself and went back down.
Once he arrived, he was surprised to see Connor and the secretary hand in hand. Everybody was waiting for him, even Levinson had arrived.
“How long can it take to drop off a pile of papers?” Levinson asked jokingly.
“Oh, someone had changed Hitler’s threat level while we were away”.
“That would be the new COO. Mr. Churchill decided to slightly adjust the numbers in order for us to see where our priorities lie”.
Bradley nodded as he followed the team out the door.
“Huh”, he thought to himself.
Thanks. I try to make it a story about the people.
Try to write an update where everyone is very drunk.
Maybe when things get even darker.
On the otehr hand, I guess it wouldn't be that hard.Godd-Blacked out-Woo-Blacked out-I'll fight y-Blacked out. HANGOVER.
Part Thirty
Bradley knocked on the door of Churchill’s office. The curt “enter” emanated from within, and the team followed Bradley inside. They arranged themselves in a line, Connor rushing in late from kissing Olivia. He smiled at Bradley, no doubt for giving him advice on French Kissing, on which Bradley was the closest thing to an expert Connor knew.
“I judge this is your report on the Czechoslovak situation?” Churchill asked, frantically scribbling down his signature on paper after paper.
In Levinson’s temporary absence, caused by a bout of flu, Bradley had been elected as spokesperson. He stepped forward and began his short presentation on the situation.
“Yes sir. It seems like the Germans have more than enough divisions to eliminate Czechoslovakia completely within the space of two weeks, at least according to Von Brauchitsch’s notes. However…”
Bradley’s explanation was cut short by Churchill raising his hand as a signal to stop.
“However, they do not have the power to conduct any other operations in those two weeks. This means that, should it come to war, France should move out of the Maginot immediately, and make a strike for Berlin. It would be a quick war”, Churchill finished.
“Yes. That’s right”, Bradley said.
Churchill nodded.
“I know. I have a copy of the files. I thought you might see something I couldn’t, which is why I wanted the report, but you’ve come to the same conclusion. Well, a phone call I took just twenty minutes ago has made it all for naught.
“The Prime Minister has informed me that we are no longer authorised to operate in Germany, until the Sudetenland Crisis is over and done with. Why? Chamberlain fears that our involvement may ‘aggravate’ that no-good Kraut bastard Hitler more than it already has. We’re impotent.
“Either way, even if we delivered the Prime Minister this report, it wouldn’t change the fact that there will be no war. Chamberlain is already in talks with Hitler to meet at a conference of sorts, in order to sort out the situation. He’s going to give Adolf the Czechs on a silver platter. Hitler knows it. Chamberlain knows it. The Czechs know it”.
There was a silence in the room as the meaning of Churchill’s rant set in. They had been sidelined. The whole operation, that guard’s life, had been in vain. Chamberlain instantaneously lost Bradley’s final iota of respect for him. The man had sold his soul to the devil, to the enemy.
Churchill must have known how they were feeling, and so resumed talking.
“On the other hand, he didn’t say we couldn’t operate against Germany. We’re only banned from entering the country. This is why it’s a stroke of luck for our little band of brothers that there’s a civil war going on, in Spain”.
The team’s eyes rose from their feet.
Churchill smiled mischievously, and continued; “Have you ever heard of the Condor Legion?”
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HA, Hitler was not the enemy before WW2. He was a internationally more or less positively viewed figured, admired more or less everywhere.
And then came the war...
The Germans could not breach the Sudeten fortifications, which was one of the reasons for the negotiations.
And then came the war...
The Germans could not breach the Sudeten fortifications, which was one of the reasons for the negotiations.
Still, Mein Kampf was published well before the start of the war. Some advicer must have slipped Champerlaine a 3-page summery of its contents. If so - they must how knows he was up to no good.
My dear Enewald, did I ever say anything about the world's attitude toward him? This is simply the view of Churchill, and a group of men who have just had a life and limb situation reduced to naught by Chamberlain's appeasement.
Indeed, yet I emphasize once again: The views of Churchill and the team, who are being surprisingly perceptive, do not reflect the views of the population at large.
PS. VOTE IN THE [thread=529148]AARLAND CHOICE AWARDS[/thread], GUYS! I see that Iron Cross has not yet garnered a single vote in the narrative HOI3 section. Perhaps one of you will change that.
Okay, (after a lot of nudging from RL) I've decided to put Iron Cross on a little hiatus. This'll give me time to figure out how to continue the story, sort out RL, concentrate on finishing my two other AARs, which are much, much closer to completion, and manage The Presidents, without having to churn out updates.
Remember, it's a hiatus, not a cancellation. I'll be back.
Remember, it's a hiatus, not a cancellation. I'll be back.
I hope I won't wait much longer. I should be able to get back to work by the latest in June, with the start of the summer holiday.
Guys, vote in the Writing with the StAARs competition in the general discussion forum.
Guys, vote in the Writing with the StAARs competition in the general discussion forum.
It's a-comin' baaack! Hope you guys didn't completely forget about Bradley, Connor and the gang yet.
Part Thirty One
September 23rd 1938, Heath Row, near London, England
The radio installed in the hangar continued to play “Thanks for the Memory”. Shirley Ross’ voice calmed Bradley’s errant nerves. Only moments earlier, everyone had been clustered around his personal little box of tunes to hear the latest news. Chamberlain was indeed heading for Munich.
“I tell you, that man hasn’t the slightest trace of guts in his entire body. Next thing you know, Hitler will be demanding India from us”, Levinson said to one of the mechanics behind Bradley.
“Too bad we’ll be out of country, and without radio, during the conference”.
Bradley wheeled around to face Connor. The nervousness Bradley had seen on the last mission seemed to have only intensified for the trip to Spain.
“Well, then we’ll have to find out after the fact”, Bradley said, hoping he had sounded calm.
Connor’s nervous laugh belied a very real fear. They were going into a war zone, and they would be behind enemy lines, so to speak. After all, officially the team wasn’t going to be there. Churchill’s itch to do something, anything, to hinder Hitler was almost obsessive. If he hadn’t known better, Bradley would have said the COO had lost his wits.
“Get up. Plane’s ready!” came the call from Levinson.
“Your Yank girl has some influential friends”.
Bradley attempted in vain to find the source of the statement. He was eventually saved the further embarrassment of pirouetting by Moss’ hand tapping his shoulder.
“What do you mean?” he asked, panicked that he had given away Franklin’s presence at some point in the drunken haze that was last night.
“Well, she apparently got the COO himself to reroute a call to the airfield. They asked for you, but you were so busy swooning to Miss Ross I didn’t dare bother you. I took the call, and she simply asked where we were going”.
“What did you say?”
“I said we were going up north, training”.
“Good. Good”.
“But she saw right through it. COO apparently told her everything. Condor Legion to Spanish sun”.
“What!?” was the response of everybody within earshot, which meant the team.
“Yes. Everything. Very influential friends”.
Levinson glared at Bradley. For a moment, he seemed sure to slap or otherwise maim Bradley, but Levinson’s arm flopped back to his side.
“I don’t care what girls you date, Ellis, unless they endanger us. You better hope your Yankee isn’t Mata-bloody-Hari, because if those planes know our explosives are on the way, you are in deep, deep trouble”.
“Oh, she isn’t”, was Bradley’s answer, which came out condescending as opposed to the joking dismissal Bradley had hoped.
Levinson’s nostrils flared to unbelievable proportions, and Allenby and Moss both recoiled.
“Can’t do anything about it now, can we. Get in the plane”.
Good to see you comin'... back
Well, I neglected you, but I'm back. Again. Hopefully more permanently this time.
Glad to be back. A I said, I hope this time it'll be more permanent now that the action on "The Presidents" has settled into a routine and given me some extra free time.