Chapter 31
The barrage roars and lifts. Then, clumsily bowed
With bombs and guns and shovels and battle-gear,
Men jostle and climb to meet the bristling fire.
Lines of grey, muttering faces, masked with fear,
They leave their trenches, going over the top,
While time ticks blank and busy on their wrists,
And hope, with furtive eyes and grappling fists,
Flounders in mud. O Jesus, make it stop!
- Siegfried Sassoon, 1918
Our northern offensive begins with an intense barrage, delivering tens of thousands of high explosive and gas shells onto the surprised British defenders. This time, we experiment with a new technique. After pulverising the enemy front line for two hours, the gunners lift their sights and begin shelling the second line and communication trenches. Whilst the bombardment is still in progress, our storm units cross No Man’s Land and are in amongst the British strongpoints before their defenders can recover from the shock of the shelling. Obedient to their new training and doctrine, the infantry do not stop to mop up every single pocket of resistance but press on into the enemy rear. The barrage precedes them, creeping forward at walking pace a few hundred metres ahead of the advancing spearheads to pulverise the helpless defenders. Occasionally a shell falls short, and German soldiers are smashed to pieces by German-made artillery fired by their own comrades; but such regrettable accidents cannot slow down the attack. The British defensive line is broken, and our forces flood through into the green fields beyond.
The proclaimed objectives of this assault are the industrial centres of Birmingham and Coventry – but this is deliberate disinformation spread to confuse the enemy. In fact, Falkenhayn turns his army eastwards and heads for the flat lands of East Anglia. (After the war, a mischievous rumour will spread that the maps used by 6. Armee – which had been purchased from neutral Sweden just before the invasion – had mistakenly put Coventry where Cambridge actually is, causing Falkenhayn’s men to march in the wrong direction. However, this story appears to be unfounded). By 5 January, our forces have crossed the River Cherwell near Banbury – after a brief rearguard action by the British at the old Civil War battlefield of Edgehill - and are sweeping in a broad arc through the landbridge between the Chiltern Hills and the Fens. Their aim – to cut off London from supply, so the city can be invested from all sides.
Unfortunately, the British have other plans. The main bulk of the British Army under Field Marshal Sir John French is assembled between Luton and Bedford, and this time they are determined to resist to the end – ‘with our backs to the wall and believing in the justice of our cause’, as one of French’s army commanders puts it in a memorable address to his men. Before long, the two armies are locked in brutal combat.
With the sea route between Britain and the Continent now open, however, German reinforcements are free to flood into the island. We even have enough troops to spare to send a column northwards into the West Midlands. Although this is only a reconnaissance in force, it encounters minimal resistance. A brief artillery duel wrecks the centre of Birmingham – although many of our captured prisoners claim that this is actually an improvement – and by 12 January all of the Black Country is in our hands.
Meanwhile, 3. Armee is preparing to cross the River Thames downstream of London in order to link up with Falkenhayn’s men and catch the British in a pincer movement. However, Field Marshall French has anticipated this, and detached his own 3rd Army under General Edmund 'Bull' Allenby to hold the crossings. For over a week, the skilful British defence along the Woolwich-Gravesend front holds back our advancing troops. As the appeals for assistance from General Falkenhayn to the north become ever more forceful, the commander of the assault force is forced to appeal to Feldmarschall Hindenburg for reinforcements.
When this request for help reaches him, Hindenburg is visiting a military hospital to hand out decorations for bravery to the wounded soldiers. This is one of the elderly Field Marshall’s favourite occupations – as he remarks to the aide accompanying him: “Fine body of men, eh! Set a good example to us all. Duty and sacrifice, that’s what the Fatherland needs more of. Now, who’s next?” The aide passes him a manila folder and a medal case, and points out a young corporal lying in bed further down the ward. A light gauze bandage covers his eyes and – like many of the soldiers bedridden in the hospital – he has let the beginnings of a moustache straggle across his face. “Iron Cross First Class, eh? Good show, what! You’re a hero, young man, you know that? Says here you twice risked enemy fire to bring help to your comrades pinned down by enemy machine guns. Excellent, excellent! You should be jolly proud of yourself.”
“Sir.”
“Eh – er – well. The report here tell me the damage to your eyes is only temporary, you’ll soon have the bandage off. Then you can go and rejoin your comrades at the front! Bet a young fire-eater like you can’t wait to have another crack at the enemy, eh?”
“Sir.”
Gad, this is a miserable one. thinks Hindenburg. Definitely not officer material; he’ll never be a real leader. Probably end up after the war as a sub-postmaster or something, licking stamps for a living.” But with the iron Prussian discipline that rules his life, Hindenburg lets no trace of his emotions show on his face. Even so, he feels a sense of relief when a messenger comes rushing in with a decrypted telegram from the front line, and he is forced to cut short the medal presentation to deal with urgent military business.
“Stiff enemy resistance, eh? All right, 3. Armee’s heavy artillery is available, and we should be able to borrow a regiment or two from 6. Armee as well. Tell Oberstleutnant Bruchmüller with my compliments I’ll need a plan to assemble and use it on my desk before supper. I’ll speak to Erich myself about prying lose his guns. Let’s be about it!”
Two days later, the greatest artillery bombardment the world has yet seen strikes the British positions. The heaviest fire is concentrated on Dartford, in the centre of the British lines, and within hours the town has effectively ceased to exist. To the advancing German soldiers, it seems that no human life could have survived in the shattered moonscape of rubble that is all that remains. Certainly no trace of Allenby is ever found, except for an army-issue left boot – with a foot still inside it – discovered some 30 metres from the site of his command post. With their high command obliterated and the centre of their line broken, the British 3rd Army disintegrates; and their counterparts in the German 3. Armee are free to secure the crossings over the Thames.
By noon on the 16 January, our forces have crossed the river and are advancing through Essex upon the rear of the main British lines. Unwilling to be caught between the jaws of our trap, French reluctantly orders a withdrawal. The British forces pull back towards London, their journey hindered by the streams of refugees fleeing from the metropolis in anticipation of the battle to come. On 17 January the lead elements of 3. Armee make contact with patrols from 6. Armee. The capital of the British Empire is surrounded.
Throughout the preparation for the invasion, the thought of the battle for London has made our planners nervous. The Siege of Paris in 1870 tied up most of the Prussian Army for months; and London is even larger and more densely urbanised. However, we have massive superiority in artillery, greater numbers, and the new advantage of airpower: Siegert’s Luftarmeen have now redeployed to the airfields of Kent and Berkshire and are bombarding the retreating British columns all through the hours of daylight. Unlike the French capital, too, London has few fixed fortifications – although the British are doing their best to hastily rectify this, dynamiting houses to clear fire lanes and siting artillery and machine guns among the rubble.
It is too little, too late, however. The main German attack comes in from the north, and by 19 January we have secured the hills around Hampstead Heath and Highgate. The famous cemetery is churned up by the constant shelling, unearthing long-dead bodies which mingle in a macabre fashion with the freshly-killed corpses of British and German soldiers. However, from the commanding heights we can dominate the rest of London, and soon artillery is stationed on the Heath. The final British line of defence is drawn up along the line of the Marylebone, Euston and Pentonville Roads, anchored on the great railway stations.
Meanwhile, a fresh assault is being launched from the south, in the region around Croydon and Sutton where our previous attack on the capital had stalled. This time, though, we have artillery in plenty to support the attack. The suspected British gun positions around Crystal Palace are heavily shelled – although this proves somewhat controversial. The famous glass building from the 1851 Exhibition is caught in the bombardment and burns to the ground, and the British will later claim that their troops were stationed well away from it – accusing us of deliberate cultural vandalism. However, such quibbles mean little to the soldiers on the ground, who are only happy to be moving forward once again. By the evening of the following day they are advancing through Wandsworth and Lambeth towards the river.
Shock troops of 3. Armee advancing across Westminster Bridge
The men of 6. Armee are advancing too. Instead of a direct assault on the British lines, they embark on a turning movement from the direction of Hangar Lane towards Notting Hill, and by 21 January are fighting their way across Hyde Park. Immobilised by constant shelling from our artillery, the British are unable to shift their reserves westwards fast enough, and our Stosstruppen soon break through into the heart of the capital. At 14:32 hours, a detachment from the 42nd Hannover Regiment forces its way into Buckingham Palace, to find it empty – the Royal Family having evidently evacuated some days previously. Moving quickly forward, they soon reach Whitehall, and link up with the advance patrols of the southern attack force which are even now crossing Westminster Bridge. It turns out that the British Cabinet, like its King, has also fled the capital already; but a small token group of ministers and MPs has remained behind to encourage the defending troops. Led by the flamboyant figure of the Minister of Munitions, an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth and one of the new experimental sub-machine guns in his hands, these politicians and their bodyguards put up a spirited resistance to our troops. However, such amateur heroics are no match for trained and disciplined infantry, and before long these government ministers are all dead or captured. At 16:27, the flag of the Reich is raised over the Palace of Westminster, and the order is transmitted to remaining British forces to lay down their arms.
London has fallen.
For the fourth time in the war, German troops have occupied the capital of a Great Power. More than this, we have captured the world’s largest city, the centre of its greatest empire – and succeeded where every previous would-be conqueror for 850 years has failed.
However, the war is by no means over. The British monarch and his Prime Minister have escaped to an unknown location, and their armies and fleets continue to fight. Even more threateningly, anti-European rhetoric in the United States is rising to new heights. After the fall of London, for the first time voices in Congress and the American press are openly calling for a declaration of war on the Reich: and this is something for us to fear. Due to the new draft law (introduced by the Wilson Administration as its first act following the 1916 election), the US Army is now three times larger than our own and still growing. Furthermore, after the devastation of the Battle of the Channel, the US Navy now has 17 times as many dreadnoughts as we do. In fact, they have almost twice as many battleships as every other navy in the world, including the British, combined!
Even if we finally win this war - after all the great European powers, including ourselves, have torn themselves apart in internecine warfare - which country stands to benefit most from the wreckage?
To be continued…
The barrage roars and lifts. Then, clumsily bowed
With bombs and guns and shovels and battle-gear,
Men jostle and climb to meet the bristling fire.
Lines of grey, muttering faces, masked with fear,
They leave their trenches, going over the top,
While time ticks blank and busy on their wrists,
And hope, with furtive eyes and grappling fists,
Flounders in mud. O Jesus, make it stop!
- Siegfried Sassoon, 1918
Our northern offensive begins with an intense barrage, delivering tens of thousands of high explosive and gas shells onto the surprised British defenders. This time, we experiment with a new technique. After pulverising the enemy front line for two hours, the gunners lift their sights and begin shelling the second line and communication trenches. Whilst the bombardment is still in progress, our storm units cross No Man’s Land and are in amongst the British strongpoints before their defenders can recover from the shock of the shelling. Obedient to their new training and doctrine, the infantry do not stop to mop up every single pocket of resistance but press on into the enemy rear. The barrage precedes them, creeping forward at walking pace a few hundred metres ahead of the advancing spearheads to pulverise the helpless defenders. Occasionally a shell falls short, and German soldiers are smashed to pieces by German-made artillery fired by their own comrades; but such regrettable accidents cannot slow down the attack. The British defensive line is broken, and our forces flood through into the green fields beyond.
The proclaimed objectives of this assault are the industrial centres of Birmingham and Coventry – but this is deliberate disinformation spread to confuse the enemy. In fact, Falkenhayn turns his army eastwards and heads for the flat lands of East Anglia. (After the war, a mischievous rumour will spread that the maps used by 6. Armee – which had been purchased from neutral Sweden just before the invasion – had mistakenly put Coventry where Cambridge actually is, causing Falkenhayn’s men to march in the wrong direction. However, this story appears to be unfounded). By 5 January, our forces have crossed the River Cherwell near Banbury – after a brief rearguard action by the British at the old Civil War battlefield of Edgehill - and are sweeping in a broad arc through the landbridge between the Chiltern Hills and the Fens. Their aim – to cut off London from supply, so the city can be invested from all sides.
Unfortunately, the British have other plans. The main bulk of the British Army under Field Marshal Sir John French is assembled between Luton and Bedford, and this time they are determined to resist to the end – ‘with our backs to the wall and believing in the justice of our cause’, as one of French’s army commanders puts it in a memorable address to his men. Before long, the two armies are locked in brutal combat.
With the sea route between Britain and the Continent now open, however, German reinforcements are free to flood into the island. We even have enough troops to spare to send a column northwards into the West Midlands. Although this is only a reconnaissance in force, it encounters minimal resistance. A brief artillery duel wrecks the centre of Birmingham – although many of our captured prisoners claim that this is actually an improvement – and by 12 January all of the Black Country is in our hands.
Meanwhile, 3. Armee is preparing to cross the River Thames downstream of London in order to link up with Falkenhayn’s men and catch the British in a pincer movement. However, Field Marshall French has anticipated this, and detached his own 3rd Army under General Edmund 'Bull' Allenby to hold the crossings. For over a week, the skilful British defence along the Woolwich-Gravesend front holds back our advancing troops. As the appeals for assistance from General Falkenhayn to the north become ever more forceful, the commander of the assault force is forced to appeal to Feldmarschall Hindenburg for reinforcements.
When this request for help reaches him, Hindenburg is visiting a military hospital to hand out decorations for bravery to the wounded soldiers. This is one of the elderly Field Marshall’s favourite occupations – as he remarks to the aide accompanying him: “Fine body of men, eh! Set a good example to us all. Duty and sacrifice, that’s what the Fatherland needs more of. Now, who’s next?” The aide passes him a manila folder and a medal case, and points out a young corporal lying in bed further down the ward. A light gauze bandage covers his eyes and – like many of the soldiers bedridden in the hospital – he has let the beginnings of a moustache straggle across his face. “Iron Cross First Class, eh? Good show, what! You’re a hero, young man, you know that? Says here you twice risked enemy fire to bring help to your comrades pinned down by enemy machine guns. Excellent, excellent! You should be jolly proud of yourself.”
“Sir.”
“Eh – er – well. The report here tell me the damage to your eyes is only temporary, you’ll soon have the bandage off. Then you can go and rejoin your comrades at the front! Bet a young fire-eater like you can’t wait to have another crack at the enemy, eh?”
“Sir.”
Gad, this is a miserable one. thinks Hindenburg. Definitely not officer material; he’ll never be a real leader. Probably end up after the war as a sub-postmaster or something, licking stamps for a living.” But with the iron Prussian discipline that rules his life, Hindenburg lets no trace of his emotions show on his face. Even so, he feels a sense of relief when a messenger comes rushing in with a decrypted telegram from the front line, and he is forced to cut short the medal presentation to deal with urgent military business.
“Stiff enemy resistance, eh? All right, 3. Armee’s heavy artillery is available, and we should be able to borrow a regiment or two from 6. Armee as well. Tell Oberstleutnant Bruchmüller with my compliments I’ll need a plan to assemble and use it on my desk before supper. I’ll speak to Erich myself about prying lose his guns. Let’s be about it!”
Two days later, the greatest artillery bombardment the world has yet seen strikes the British positions. The heaviest fire is concentrated on Dartford, in the centre of the British lines, and within hours the town has effectively ceased to exist. To the advancing German soldiers, it seems that no human life could have survived in the shattered moonscape of rubble that is all that remains. Certainly no trace of Allenby is ever found, except for an army-issue left boot – with a foot still inside it – discovered some 30 metres from the site of his command post. With their high command obliterated and the centre of their line broken, the British 3rd Army disintegrates; and their counterparts in the German 3. Armee are free to secure the crossings over the Thames.
By noon on the 16 January, our forces have crossed the river and are advancing through Essex upon the rear of the main British lines. Unwilling to be caught between the jaws of our trap, French reluctantly orders a withdrawal. The British forces pull back towards London, their journey hindered by the streams of refugees fleeing from the metropolis in anticipation of the battle to come. On 17 January the lead elements of 3. Armee make contact with patrols from 6. Armee. The capital of the British Empire is surrounded.
Throughout the preparation for the invasion, the thought of the battle for London has made our planners nervous. The Siege of Paris in 1870 tied up most of the Prussian Army for months; and London is even larger and more densely urbanised. However, we have massive superiority in artillery, greater numbers, and the new advantage of airpower: Siegert’s Luftarmeen have now redeployed to the airfields of Kent and Berkshire and are bombarding the retreating British columns all through the hours of daylight. Unlike the French capital, too, London has few fixed fortifications – although the British are doing their best to hastily rectify this, dynamiting houses to clear fire lanes and siting artillery and machine guns among the rubble.
It is too little, too late, however. The main German attack comes in from the north, and by 19 January we have secured the hills around Hampstead Heath and Highgate. The famous cemetery is churned up by the constant shelling, unearthing long-dead bodies which mingle in a macabre fashion with the freshly-killed corpses of British and German soldiers. However, from the commanding heights we can dominate the rest of London, and soon artillery is stationed on the Heath. The final British line of defence is drawn up along the line of the Marylebone, Euston and Pentonville Roads, anchored on the great railway stations.
Meanwhile, a fresh assault is being launched from the south, in the region around Croydon and Sutton where our previous attack on the capital had stalled. This time, though, we have artillery in plenty to support the attack. The suspected British gun positions around Crystal Palace are heavily shelled – although this proves somewhat controversial. The famous glass building from the 1851 Exhibition is caught in the bombardment and burns to the ground, and the British will later claim that their troops were stationed well away from it – accusing us of deliberate cultural vandalism. However, such quibbles mean little to the soldiers on the ground, who are only happy to be moving forward once again. By the evening of the following day they are advancing through Wandsworth and Lambeth towards the river.
Shock troops of 3. Armee advancing across Westminster Bridge
The men of 6. Armee are advancing too. Instead of a direct assault on the British lines, they embark on a turning movement from the direction of Hangar Lane towards Notting Hill, and by 21 January are fighting their way across Hyde Park. Immobilised by constant shelling from our artillery, the British are unable to shift their reserves westwards fast enough, and our Stosstruppen soon break through into the heart of the capital. At 14:32 hours, a detachment from the 42nd Hannover Regiment forces its way into Buckingham Palace, to find it empty – the Royal Family having evidently evacuated some days previously. Moving quickly forward, they soon reach Whitehall, and link up with the advance patrols of the southern attack force which are even now crossing Westminster Bridge. It turns out that the British Cabinet, like its King, has also fled the capital already; but a small token group of ministers and MPs has remained behind to encourage the defending troops. Led by the flamboyant figure of the Minister of Munitions, an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth and one of the new experimental sub-machine guns in his hands, these politicians and their bodyguards put up a spirited resistance to our troops. However, such amateur heroics are no match for trained and disciplined infantry, and before long these government ministers are all dead or captured. At 16:27, the flag of the Reich is raised over the Palace of Westminster, and the order is transmitted to remaining British forces to lay down their arms.
London has fallen.
For the fourth time in the war, German troops have occupied the capital of a Great Power. More than this, we have captured the world’s largest city, the centre of its greatest empire – and succeeded where every previous would-be conqueror for 850 years has failed.
However, the war is by no means over. The British monarch and his Prime Minister have escaped to an unknown location, and their armies and fleets continue to fight. Even more threateningly, anti-European rhetoric in the United States is rising to new heights. After the fall of London, for the first time voices in Congress and the American press are openly calling for a declaration of war on the Reich: and this is something for us to fear. Due to the new draft law (introduced by the Wilson Administration as its first act following the 1916 election), the US Army is now three times larger than our own and still growing. Furthermore, after the devastation of the Battle of the Channel, the US Navy now has 17 times as many dreadnoughts as we do. In fact, they have almost twice as many battleships as every other navy in the world, including the British, combined!
Even if we finally win this war - after all the great European powers, including ourselves, have torn themselves apart in internecine warfare - which country stands to benefit most from the wreckage?
To be continued…
