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Churchill seems like he has little to do anging around in train stations all the time.
But I guess being at the heart of the transportation network is also a way how to help administer your country :D

Well, he is basically on probation in politics. He's unemployed, which raises the question of what he does at the House of Commons every day...

Oh damn it, I hate state interventionism on this level!
Go back to Africa Churchill!

Bradley to Germany? Can he even speak German?

His father is a German spy (according to you). Shouldn't that answer your question. :D
 
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Part Fifteen

September 5th 1938, Dunmow, near London, England

Bradley knocked on Lillian’s door at the Winchester. He realized it was 8:45 AM, and she up at 10, but he had to say goodbye. After all, He’d spent all weekend with her. It wasn’t good to leave without a trace. Lillian opened the door, still dressed in her nightgown.

“Brad, what are you doing here at this hour?”

“I came to say goodbye. I’m going to Germany for a while”.

“Oh yeah. You talked about that with Churchill on the train”.

They stayed silent for a while. Neither one knew what to say. Bradley had never actually been in a relationship, so he was extremely awkward at moments like this. He couldn’t help but remember the utter horror of asking Lillian out at the Winchester. That same feeling was returning to his stomach.

Finally Lillian moved, putting her face close to his. It took Bradley a moment to see what she was about to do. As her lips drew closer to his, he also realized that they had never actually kissed. Lillian had pecked him on the cheek once or twice, but their lips had never come into contact. Bradley was about to pucker his lips when she locked hers onto his.

He closed his eyes as she started pushing her tongue into his mouth, almost as if searching for something. Bradley put his tongue up almost as an instinctive defensive measure against an intruder, but she started twisting her tongue around his. Eventually Bradley got the idea.

They seemed to stay kissing in the corridor forever, until Lillian pulled her lips away from Bradley’s.

He smiled awkwardly before asking “What was that tongue thing?”

“It’s called a French kiss”, Lillian answered, closing the door as she mouthed the word bye.

Bradley stood outside for a while longer. He contemplated knocking again, but decided to let Lillian sleep in peace and went down the stairs. He walked out of the Winchester, taking the time to notice Mr. Robinson setting up shop. The bartender had a knowing smile on his face.

Bradley arrived on the platform just in time, no thanks to Sammy Rogers’ leisurely pace of ticket making. He stepped onto the train and saw a familiar demoralizing sight. Winston Churchill sat in his usual place, reading his usual newspaper. Bradley tried to move to another carriage, but Churchill once again asked him to sit down. The man still wouldn’t lift his face from the newspaper to do so.

“So Bradley, you’re going to Germany today?”

“Yes Winston”, Bradley answered, letting out a deep sigh.

“Now Bradley, am I really that depressing?”

“No, of course not”.

“I’d imagine I am. I’ve been, perhaps unnecessarily, tough on you Bradley, but we live in a time when it does not pay to be soft. Tell me about the plan Bradley”.

Bradley was surprised by Churchill’s admittance, and answered as best he could.
“Well, we’re probably going to carry out the raids at night, or the very middle of the day. I don’t know much else”.

Churchill smiled slightly. Bradley noticed a picture Churchill was holding in his hand. He stretched his neck to get a better look, but could only make out a military uniform. He gave up when Churchill put the picture in his front pocket.

“I’d imagine your captain has an excellent plan, especially since I gave him all that extra equipment”.

“You gave Levinson equipment? Why would you do that?”

“I have interests of my own Bradley, and they shall stay secret for the time being. Perhaps when you come back from Germany I can trust you enough”.

The train stopped at the House of Commons, and Churchill got out. Bradley was left alone in the carriage once more. The rest of the way to Heath Row was spent in absolute silence. The only sound was the steady chugging of the train.
 
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Part Sixteen

September 5th 1938, Heath Row, near London, England

Bradley saw the small aerodrome as he reached the top of the hill. He could make out small figures rushing around a relatively large aeroplane. One of them was flailing its arms around erratically. Bradley was sure he had just spotted Levinson. He was proven right when he drew close enough to recognize faces.

Levinson ceased his shouting at the mechanic and headed toward Bradley at a brisk pace. He stopped inches from Bradley’s face. There was a moment of silence, and Bradley believed he was going to be shouted at, until Levinson broke out in a wide smile and shook Bradley’s hand.

“Ellis, I don’t care how you did it, but getting Winston Churchill to support our little endeavour is the best thing that’s happened to the SIS since its formation. Knowing Churchill, we’ll be rid of Templewood by the end of the month”.

Bradley smiled, completely at loss as to how Churchill’s support would depose Templewood. Levinson told him to put his bag into the back of the plane, and Bradley followed the order.

He took a look inside the aircraft. It had twelve seats, all of which looked very comfortable with their leather coverings, and a pile of bags at the rear end of the passenger hold. Bradley couldn’t help but notice Connor unpacking guns from the bags and stowing them in a secret compartment.

“Are we really expecting that much trouble?” he asked Connor.

Connor looked at him, the same fear in his eyes as there must have been in Bradley’s.
“Well, we’re prepared for this much trouble”.

“Hey Connor, I can do that for a while. Here, I’ve got the newest issue of the Dandy for you to read”, he said, offering the comic book from his bag.

He had used whatever was left of his money after the weekend on the issue. Connor eyed it for a while, almost as if weighing the chances of Levinson shouting at him for slacking off, before snatching the comic book from Bradley’s hand and sitting down in a seat.

Bradley put his bag down next to the others, and began unpacking guns. He quickly found it to be a surprisingly easy job, as he simply had to assemble the parts of the weapon and place it in the compartment.

He packed guns for around ten minutes before Connor finished The Dandy and joined in, just in time to avoid Levinson seeing him crouch down in front of the bags.

“Well, you kids have an excellent work ethic. It’s teamwork like that that’s going to keep us alive should things go awry in Berlin. Not that they will”.

Bradley and Connor looked at each other worriedly. Both had noticed the way in which Levinson had hastily said the last sentence. It was only there to make them feel safer. The packing of the guns took a whole new meaning as Bradley realized he might have to use them. It took them a full half-hour to place all the weapons and ammunition in the compartment. It seemed as though they were preparing to storm the Reich Chancellery instead of infiltrating it.

Once they were done, they noticed the rest of the team was already sitting down, and the pilots were in the cockpit.

“Gentlemen, you might want to sit down!” the co-pilot shouted as the rotor blades began to turn.

Bradley and Connor sat down in the closest seats, acutely aware of the fact that there was a chance, no matter how small, they might not come back.
 
What the heck are those guys doing?
Importing guns? With what permission?
Planning to start a war?

00-Levinson, License to kill. :D
 
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Part Seventeen

September 5th 1938, above Kyritz, Germany

They had been in the air for about an hour and thirty minutes when Levinson got up from his seat. He took a look out the window, as if to make sure of something, and then went to the middle of the aisle.

“Does everybody have some civilian clothes?” he asked.

Moss and Allenby answered affirmatively, but Bradley and Connor simply looked at each other. Confused as to why Levinson was asking this. Levinson walked between them. He crouched down by one of the bags and took out some clothes. They were relatively fancy compared to what Bradley normally wore.

Levinson saw the puzzled looks on their faces, and offered an explanation.
“What would it look like if five British soldiers got out of a plane in Berlin, and a few days later both they and important documents are gone? I assumed that you’d be smart enough to figure that out. You’re lucky I felt a little paranoid and brought these along. It’s my fault really, I should have told you”, he said, placing the clothes in their laps.

“Change quick boys. We’ll be in Berlin soon”.

Connor and Bradley got out of their seats and began changing. Bradley felt uncomfortable changing mid-flight, but judging from the looks on faces, so did everybody else. He couldn’t help but wonder why they hadn’t changed at the aerodrome in Heath Row. He was putting the belt on when he realized it must’ve been to prevent suspicious looking activity that Heath Row residents might have picked up on.

They all sat back in their seats when the pilot shouted that the plane was about to land. The aircraft bucked and shook as it descended. Bradley could feel his teeth clattering together, and concentrated on keeping his mouth closed to distract himself from the images of a plane crash flashing in his head.

The plane finally ground to a halt on the runway. Bradley slumped back in his seat, while Moss, Allenby and Levinson got up from their seats, unshaken. Unlike for Bradley, it was not their first flight. They went down the aisle, Levinson tapping Bradley and Connor to get them up. Once everybody had managed to leave their seats, Levinson gestured for them to take their bags.

Nobody even touched the secret compartment, which surprised Bradley. He went over to Levinson and asked why they weren’t bringing the guns with them.

“They check your baggage. We’d be in quite the pickle if they found weapons in our bags. However, they only check when you arrive, so we’ll come back for them later”.

The whole operation seemed riskier by the minute. Bradley picked up his bag and followed the team out onto the runway. They were greeted by four German soldiers. Each one had a weapon at the ready. Bradley wondered why they were receiving such a greeting. Levinson leaned over to him and whispered an answer.

“Most people still use the Zeppelin, Hindenburg or not. We came by plane, so naturally they’re a bit more suspicious of us”.

Bradley nodded his understanding as he drew closer to the first German soldier. He was about the same height, but slightly older. Bradley noticed the medal on the man’s chest, commemorating the Annexation of Austria. The soldier turned to him, stony faced.

“Gepäck, bitte”.
 
Zeppelin? Bah, planes were probably more common by 38.

Oh no, now they get caught!
GEGEN DEN MAUER UND EIN KOPFSCHUSS BITTE SCHÖN!

DU DUU DUUUU!

Two Entries? Well, the best of luck to you. I'm not sure I would do two AARs at the same time for this contest.

Things are coming along slowly, but nicely. I'll be watching!

I find your lack of faith in the amount of free time I have... disturbing. :p

Slow and steady wins the race. :D
 
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Part Eighteen

September 5th 1938, Berlin, Germany

Bradley handed over his bag to the soldier. The German unceremoniously threw it on the ground, and unzipped it in order to begin searching through it. Bradley could hear him grumbling as he surveyed the contents. The soldier shuffled the clothes around, undoing an hour of packing.

Eventually the soldier lifted up a small paperback book. He observed it for a while, flipping through the pages and shaking it. He seemed to decide there was nothing wrong with it, and placed it back in the bag, which he handed back to Bradley.

“Bewegen entlang”, the soldier said, waving Bradley to move past.

Bradley looked back and saw the soldier throw down Connor’s bag. Connor looked visibly pained by the brutal treatment his luggage was receiving. Levinson drew up to Bradley.

“This is why I’ve tried to avoid trips to Germany since ’33. I’ve been in the European Section since ’31, and I’ve never had greetings as unpleasant as the ones in Germany”, he said, sounding tired.

“Not even in Russia?” Bradley asked.

“Not even in Russia. The NKVD has the courtesy to search your bags in secret, when you leave the hotel for example”.

Bradley tried to understand Levinson’s reasoning, but was interrupted by the pat on his back that signaled it was time to leave the runway. They headed for the small group of cabs that waited near the runway for possible passengers. One of the drivers waved to them, and they headed to him.

“Herr Levinson, it’s been a while”, the man said in a heavy German accent.

“Indeed it has Dieter. I assume you know where we’re going”.

“Yes. Friedrichstrasse 7, like always”.

“Excellent. Put your bags in the back everybody, and be careful. The car might become a little crowded”.

Levinson wasn’t kidding. Only he and Dieter sat at the front, the other four men had to squeeze into the two and a half backseats. It was ridiculous, and Bradley could hardly breathe. The effect was exacerbated by the bag that was a little too big and was now pushing his head forward.

Yet, despite the situation within the car, Bradley couldn’t help but enjoy the sights of Berlin. The Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag and the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church all slid past them. It was as if Dieter was taking them on a tour of Berlin. This feeling was quickly dispelled upon arrival at Friedrichstrasse 5.

Dieter parked abruptly and got out of his seat. Levinson followed suit and began unpacking.

“Get out of the car boys. It’s time to get down to business”.
 
Berlin before Hitler must've been quite amazing. The beauty now all gone.

Indeed. Deep thoughts from Enewald.

I'd actually be interested if somebody did some literary analysis of the AAR. I'm approaching this as though it were a novel, and it might really help.
 
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Part Nineteen

September 5th 1938, Berlin, Germany

The premises at Friedrichstrasse 5 consisted of only two rooms. One of which contained a large table with a map of Berlin on it, and the other, slightly larger, room contained naught but two bunk beds. Bradley shuddered at the thought of having to sleep in them.

“Put your stuff in the other room. We shouldn’t be here long enough to sleep, and if all goes to plan, you can come get it later”.

Connor elbowed Bradley, and he went up to Levinson.

“Why did you ask us to bring these with us if we’re not going to use them?”

“It would look darn suspicious if we didn’t have any luggage, and besides, needed something to carry the guns in”.

Bradley relayed the message to Connor, and followed Moss and Allenby in dumping his stuff on one of the bunk beds. They proceeded to gather around the map of Berlin. Levinson waited impatiently until Connor had arrived.

“Okay. You all know the plan, but one more time can’t hurt. We go get the guns together, and then split up at the Reichstag. Ellis and I will go to Jungstrasse and search Brauchitsch’s archives.

Moss and Brower will go to Hitler’s office. He usually holds a speech at 4 O’clock. Use that window of opportunity. The guard uniforms are in my bag. Get dressed, and then we’ll be off. Once you’ve completed your part of the raid, return here. Allenby, get ready to leave quickly. We might have somebody coming after us”.

Levinson lifted his head and everybody nodded in response. Connor and Moss went to get dressed. Bradley stood next to Allenby and waited. After about five minutes, Bradley got bored. He turned to Allenby.

“So, James, where do you come from?”

“Me? I lived in Notley for most of my life. I joined the SIS in ’35 and moved to London a year later. My father said that if I hadn’t moved on my own, he’d have thrown me out”.

“Really, you’re from Notley? I’m from Dunmow”.

“Well colour me impressed! You’re that Ellis?”

“That Ellis? Do you know my father?”

“It’s hard to forget someone who can drink ten pints of the Notley Arms special, and still get home before the morning”.

Their conversation was cut short by Connor and Moss coming out of the bag room. Levinson got up from the chair he was sitting in, and headed outside. The rest of the team followed. Dieter was still waiting by his cab. He looked slightly surprised when he saw the uniforms, but quickly got in to the driver’s seat.

The team packed into the car once more. Dieter looked at the back seat.

“It’s good to be back there, ja?” he said, smirking.

Dieter turned to Levinson.

“Back to the airport David?”

“Yes. Right back”.

“You’ve had better plans, and you used to use the embassy”.

“I’ve also had more time to formulate those plans, and they used to be less sensitive to scrutiny. It would look very bad for the ambassador if the Germans got a whiff of our actions. Very bad indeed”.

Dieter eased his foot onto the gas pedal, and they embarked once more on a tour of Berlin.
 
Indeed. Deep thoughts from Enewald.

I'd actually be interested if somebody did some literary analysis of the AAR. I'm approaching this as though it were a novel, and it might really help.

I would do one but my absurdist approach to life wouldnt do the AAR justice. If you write something in the style of Harold Pinter or Samuel Becket I could aid you (that would be a strange AAR...)
 
Good stuff. Looking forwards for the operation :)
 
No one is shadowing a bunch of merry Englishmen that carry big baggage and look like soldiers?
Yeah right.

And when they suspiciously manage to enter the offices of the Reichskriegsministerium, that is being garrisoned probably by a lot of soldiers round the clock, entering the room of the boss and bringing something out?
WITH GUNS? IN BERLIN?

YOU DO NOT SIMPLY WALK INTO THE OFFICE OF A GERMAN GENERAL!!!
You use some secrecy for gods sake! :D