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"Wiff reshpect, cap'n, I can't help it. Muh ballsh are so huge I needsh a battlesh-ship to carry them anywhere." *hic*
-- Dr. Morsky, Chief Medical Officer, HMS Venus
I'd hazard a guess that most of those are apocryphal "FWD:FWD:FWD: Hilarious!"-style jokes, probably descended from some mimeographed office joke from 1973. Still, funny.
Next update should be fun, too, what with everyone's favourite moustachioed toff playing amateur dictator.
Chapter 109, Boodle’s, London, 24 January 1941
Halifax froze into a forced smile as he, Walter Elliot, Lord Derby, the Duke of Gloucester and Joe Kennedy had their photograph taken. Derby, presiding over this dinner to bid farewell to one American Ambassador and to welcome another, chuckled in good humour at one of Kennedy’s wise-cracks and nodded amiably at Butler as the Foreign Secretary, keen to be in the ‘thick of the action’, closed in on the Prime Minister. Halifax didn’t feel up to this dinner; he had found Kennedy a tiresome envoy whose controversial statements (gleefully made, Halifax felt, to raise eyebrows in the British political establishment) had given Halifax much to worry about. This tiresome showman will be soon be gone; I for one will not miss his probing of my tolerances, Halifax thought ruefully, then looked at the cheerful Harry Hopkins, Roosevelt’s personal choice to represent his views in London, and struggled to make an impression on the man. He seems an astute observer, content to watch and wait. A cunning hunter indeed, though as a man he is unimpressive. As the Ambassador, lank hair and bow tie not quite right, and drawing heavily upon a cigarette nodded politely to the Prime Minister, Halifax withdrew from Kennedy and his group, so desperate was he to avoid Kennedy’s usual sparring debates. Kennedy, shrugging at the Prime Ministerial weariness, turned instead to tease Butler.
“Well Rab, what’s up with Hal?”
Butler raised a hand in frustration, as if to stave off an attack before it came. “Dammed if I know, Joe. Our gallant Viscount has been sombre of late. I think he’s worried about Europe, as usual.”
“What’s wrong with Europe. You’ve given the Germans the nod to rampage throughout the place, let ‘em get on with it. Even Eden realised that you couldn’t beat them. Not your fight, anyway. Everybody knows that!”
“Ah, but that’s just it. Rumour has it,” Butler said this with relish, enjoying the gossip, “that our good peer has been summoned by HM to fully brief him on the world situation.”
“But I thought the King was still in Sandringham? You mean I went all the way up there for nothing?” Kennedy, who had hated the drive from London to rural Norfolk, scowled.
“He’ll be back in London next week. And he has told the PM that he expects a full briefing. Rumour has it that the King is unhappy.”
“What with?”
Butler sighed; the storyteller had come to the end of his tale and had no more gossip to offer. “I don’t know, probably the Army expansion.”
“Well he’s got a point,” Kennedy agreed, apparently possessing an opinion on every subject. “How many divisions y’got? The Germans have got-”
“I’m not sure it’s how many, it’s what type,” Butler said tartly, pulling a pile of newspapers from a bureau table. He flicked through the pages of The Times, found the article he was looking for and thrust it at Kennedy. “Motorised divisions, man and machine riding to war together, Dominion and Briton alike. HM is apparently very concerned.”
Kennedy squinted through his spectacles. “Why?”
“He feels we’re narrowing ourselves to Europe. This is a very heavy force.”
Kennedy was incredulous. “Alright, Rab, even if he is right you should have had this conversation ten years ago. Who is his source?”
“You mean, apart from Leslie bloody Hore-Belisha? Probably Anthony, for he’s fed up of Dill’s focus on the European theatre.”
“Wow,” said Kennedy, whistling softly. “I never thought that I would agree with Anthony Eden!”
“You forget, Joe, that Anthony is obsessed with the Mediterranean. He has nightmares of Mussolini’s hordes overrunning the desert.”
Kennedy chuckled. Walter Elliot, MP a known Halifax loyalist (and bearing a passable resemblance to that other Walter, Walter Monckton) breezed by. “You two look very controversial, conspiring here.” He spoke with a soft, lilting Scottish accent. “What do you make of Ambassador Hopkins?” He asked the question slightly cheekily, playing Kennedy at his own game.
Kennedy was about to make a comment when Butler chimed in. “I’m sure Ambassador Hopkins will be a success,” Butler said carefully, jealously aware that Elliot had the ear of the Prime Minister. Kennedy swore, directly, bluntly and effectively, causing Butler to cough in surprise. Elliot beamed and moved on.
“I tell you Joe, you’re leaving at the right time. I’m not all together sure that we’re in good shape. That creeping little turd is tipped to join me in the FO,” he gestured with a thumb to Elliot. “I don’t know what game the PM is playing but I deserve better than that.”
“He’s an Empire man isn’t he?”
“Elliot, oh yes undoubtedly. Full of hope for the Commonwealth. He keeps badgering us about Canada and South Africa, saying we should listen to their views. And after Winston and this Commonwealth Fleet nonsense,” Butler wearily shook his head. Churchill had recently spoken in the Commons in favour of moving the Pacific squadrons of Britain, Australia, New Zealand and Canada under one unified command in Hong Kong. He had also argued for an American ‘squadron of communication’, a clever ploy that would ensure that should Japan attack the Fleet, she would also be attacking ships flying the flag of the USN. It had immediately drawn a panicked denunciation from Butler and swift letters of correction to the Dominion High Commissioners.
“Maybe you should,” Kennedy said pointedly. “Beaverbrook and his gang are looking to Washington not Whitehall,” he smiled, pleased at the alliteration.
“Yes, but regardless of Winston and his hyperbole if a war broke out the fleets would work together anyway. Of course we want the Canadians working with us. And you Americans should keep your noses out.”
“Hey, Canada’s yours, of course. But we understandably have an interest into everything that goes on there. But maybe Beaverbrook has a point. I’ve heard more from him than I have from Woolton.”
“It’s early days yet, Wooly will pull through,” Butler replied, not sounding as if he cared.
“If I can help, Rab, you can always count on my support.”
It was so generous, so unhesitant, that Butler looked to see whether Kennedy was jesting. His earnest expression convinced Butler that he was not. “Kind of you, Joe,” he offered with his hand. The two men shook hands.
“And watch Hopkins. He has a direct line to FDR,” Kennedy said as the two men proceeded to dinner, a wistful tone in his voice.
“So do you Joe, and from what our Embassy sends us your eldest son has done well out of it, or rather he will do. What did the President want?”
“My support,” he said bitterly. “In exchange for support to Joe.”
“Ah,” said Butler, understanding. “But has the father still an ambition?”
Kennedy’s smile said it all. Chuckling, the two men went into dinner.
[Game Effect] – One of those diplomatic-style tediums which covers a lot of ground.
I am indebted, as ever, to Nathan Madien for assisting this very English Englishman with his detailed knowledge of US politics. In the real 1940s Kennedy by late ’40 was in trouble; remarks made about democracy and the future of both Europe and the UK made his continued presence in London undesirable. With the help of Nathan Madien, who carefully steered me away from a Wendell Willkie Wonderland, Hopkins is the new US Ambassador to the Court of St James, a choice I immediately agreed upon and which no doubt will cause Halifax further grumpiness. He found Kennedy excessively ‘Tiresome’ (a word he used for pretty much anything he disliked) and will initially struggle, I think to get to grips with Hopkins. Kennedy, meanwhile, will go home and groom his eldest son (who, at the minute, is alive – and who knows whether he will survive whatever the Japs unleash) for high office whilst keeping the door open to his own career. I think that in this AAR he will be in a better position to get something for himself and his family: America is not nervously aiding Britain and his criticism of Britain and the British may actually be popular back home. Though I loath Kennedy and all that he stands for I have to be balanced I think that his assessment of the Halifax Government’s performance is unfortunately fairly accurate; Canada and South Africa have been sidelined and Beaverbrook and Mackenzie King are clearly looking, as Kennedy put it, “to Washington rather than Whitehall”. Churchill (still clearly active) and his reasonable suggestion for a united Commonwealth Naval force has met with difficulty; I doubt very much that Butler would have the interest or moral fibre to take this forward. And so another blunder is made by the FO and the Dominions (well, South Africa and Canada anyway – I think that Australia and New Zealand would actually be quite pro-Halifax) further annoyed.
Walter Elliot (another Walter!) makes his first appearance. A regular dining pal of Halifax’s, he’s not yet a minister - I’ve tried to avoid falling back on making only Halifax’s friends cabinet ministers and he is, at present, one of Halifax’s key contacts with the backbenchers (and also, conveniently, he is available for any ministerial vacancy that could offer itself). Expect to see him parachuted into a department if Halifax is forced to make an unexpected reshuffle.
I’ve mentioned the re-organisation of the British Army a number of times, and now at last we see some of its scope. Essentially I tried to be reasonably ‘in keeping’ with the spirit of the Royal Commission’s findings, and the British will go to war with a lot of ARM, MOT and eventually MEC divisions. I did spew out some INF, and of course there’s a small force of Royal Marines forming, but a future BEF will be a Eurocentric force designed to ‘britzkrieg’ the enemy. Eden’s Med obsessions aside, Dill and Gort both suffered the ignominy of the Fall of France first-hand, and both, I think, would be dominated by this experience. As has been pointed out, this is great for fighting in Europe, the Middle East (to a point) and possibly the plains of India, but for the steamy jungles of Burma Dill’s panzers are not really suitable. This may be the reason for the King’s summons to his First Minister, we’ll see if it is in the next update.
TheExecuter: The Empire will certainly be at war, in a slightly ridiculous way that I have had great fun crafting a story around. I’m trying to show how building tensions would be viewed by the British, still rather impotent but at least showing some signs of activity.
Atlantic Friend: Funnily enough, that’s the approach most Brits take abroad with English!
Trekaddict: It’s odd how education systems volte face every so often. When I was at school we studied Latin, French and (very much in third) German. Apparently they learn all sorts of languages now.
Kurt_Steiner: But will Japan go for Britain? The Dutch East Indies are arguably more tempting as they are alone in the world with their mother country overrun. The French, in Indochina are also a tempting prize. Would Tokyo view a strongly isolationist Britain as not worth the bother (Halifax’s hope) or as a rich prize easily taken (as feared by the Royal Navy?).
Trekaddict: Another oddity is how an accent in a foreign tongue (I’m of course thinking of English here) stems from one’s teacher, and how it sometimes runs deeper. At university we had a number of students from Brunei. Those learning from those bastions of Empire (the BBC, English teachers, the Oxford English Dictionary) were of course more English than the English. Those learning from US resources were very American, both in outlook and accent.
BritishImperial: And following on from that thought it is humbling and a little bizarre when native speakers slaughter our glorious tongue. Sorry to sound like such a traditionalist but that’s the National Curriculum for you!
Enewald: I think that Monckton sees Britain’s impotence in Eastern Europe – the deals will be made and broken regardless of British involvement. Whilst this was true in the real 1940 to a degree, the lack of a cohesive foreign policy is crippling the Ambassadors and it is left to individual diplomats (personified by Clark in South Africa and Monckton in Berlin) to do their best for British interests.
Atlantic Friend: I love the way in which languages reflect culture (or vice versa). I have to confess my schoolboy French is now creaking beyond hope of salvation.
Trekaddict: Oh please Lord not Harry Potter. I’m afraid it never captured my interest – though I have made a stab at one of the books and suffered the horrors of one of the films I find it hopelessly awful. I lost two hours to that film, two hours that I will never get back…
Nathan Madien: I have, perhaps, been simplistic in assuming that the Germans and Russians would plough on with the economic deal as they did in reality, certainly the question has to be asked whether Russia would want to go ahead now that she is the obvious next target for German aggression. But I actually think that at this period Moscow believes the tripe about shared co-existence and would be more, not less, eager to prop up the Reich’s economy. As for the British, at present I genuinely think that Berlin does not view Britain as a threat. Perhaps if Labour had won the election, or if Halifax steps down (which, barring a war, he probably will do) after a suitable time in office, then Germany would reassess her policy on the Empire.
Atlantic Friend: The Hobbit! Now there’s a book! Thorin Oakenshield, Smaug, MARVELLOUS! Ahem. Back to the AAR, one of the longer-term legacies of my research is that I can bore incessantly on trivia about minor British politicians. Where else but this lunacy of a story would Hankey, Monckton and co find such glory?!
Atlantic Friend: I have to confess the tapping bit was fun to craft – sneaky Germans keeping their eyes (or ears I guess) on Halifax’s man in Berlin.
Trekaddict: Really? I had no idea that globalisation had overgrown so much. I remember in Norfolk ( the Virginia one) last year, the fun I had trying to buy books on the War of 1812. The assistant (delightfully helpful, not like bloody Waterstones!), a charming girl (again, not like bloody Waterstones!) took me to a shelf that was, title for title, almost exactly the same as the books on offer in the UK. It was the same for the Napoleonics, though I have to confess that I didn’t ask for any of the Halifax biographies.
Oh yes and – the ‘book of the week’? Sharpe’s bloody Fury.
Atlantic Friend: …and clearly the situation exists in France as well.
Kurt_Steiner/BritishImperial/Enewald/Nathan Madien/Morsky: Glad you liked the 'funnies'.
Halifax froze into a forced smile as he, Walter Elliot, Lord Derby, the Duke of Gloucester and Joe Kennedy had their photograph taken. Derby, presiding over this dinner to bid farewell to one American Ambassador and to welcome another, chuckled in good humour at one of Kennedy’s wise-cracks and nodded amiably at Butler as the Foreign Secretary, keen to be in the ‘thick of the action’, closed in on the Prime Minister. Halifax didn’t feel up to this dinner; he had found Kennedy a tiresome envoy whose controversial statements (gleefully made, Halifax felt, to raise eyebrows in the British political establishment) had given Halifax much to worry about. This tiresome showman will be soon be gone; I for one will not miss his probing of my tolerances, Halifax thought ruefully, then looked at the cheerful Harry Hopkins, Roosevelt’s personal choice to represent his views in London, and struggled to make an impression on the man. He seems an astute observer, content to watch and wait. A cunning hunter indeed, though as a man he is unimpressive. As the Ambassador, lank hair and bow tie not quite right, and drawing heavily upon a cigarette nodded politely to the Prime Minister, Halifax withdrew from Kennedy and his group, so desperate was he to avoid Kennedy’s usual sparring debates. Kennedy, shrugging at the Prime Ministerial weariness, turned instead to tease Butler.
“Well Rab, what’s up with Hal?”
Butler raised a hand in frustration, as if to stave off an attack before it came. “Dammed if I know, Joe. Our gallant Viscount has been sombre of late. I think he’s worried about Europe, as usual.”
“What’s wrong with Europe. You’ve given the Germans the nod to rampage throughout the place, let ‘em get on with it. Even Eden realised that you couldn’t beat them. Not your fight, anyway. Everybody knows that!”
“Ah, but that’s just it. Rumour has it,” Butler said this with relish, enjoying the gossip, “that our good peer has been summoned by HM to fully brief him on the world situation.”
“But I thought the King was still in Sandringham? You mean I went all the way up there for nothing?” Kennedy, who had hated the drive from London to rural Norfolk, scowled.
“He’ll be back in London next week. And he has told the PM that he expects a full briefing. Rumour has it that the King is unhappy.”
“What with?”
Butler sighed; the storyteller had come to the end of his tale and had no more gossip to offer. “I don’t know, probably the Army expansion.”
“Well he’s got a point,” Kennedy agreed, apparently possessing an opinion on every subject. “How many divisions y’got? The Germans have got-”
“I’m not sure it’s how many, it’s what type,” Butler said tartly, pulling a pile of newspapers from a bureau table. He flicked through the pages of The Times, found the article he was looking for and thrust it at Kennedy. “Motorised divisions, man and machine riding to war together, Dominion and Briton alike. HM is apparently very concerned.”
Kennedy squinted through his spectacles. “Why?”
“He feels we’re narrowing ourselves to Europe. This is a very heavy force.”
Kennedy was incredulous. “Alright, Rab, even if he is right you should have had this conversation ten years ago. Who is his source?”
“You mean, apart from Leslie bloody Hore-Belisha? Probably Anthony, for he’s fed up of Dill’s focus on the European theatre.”
“Wow,” said Kennedy, whistling softly. “I never thought that I would agree with Anthony Eden!”
“You forget, Joe, that Anthony is obsessed with the Mediterranean. He has nightmares of Mussolini’s hordes overrunning the desert.”
Kennedy chuckled. Walter Elliot, MP a known Halifax loyalist (and bearing a passable resemblance to that other Walter, Walter Monckton) breezed by. “You two look very controversial, conspiring here.” He spoke with a soft, lilting Scottish accent. “What do you make of Ambassador Hopkins?” He asked the question slightly cheekily, playing Kennedy at his own game.
Kennedy was about to make a comment when Butler chimed in. “I’m sure Ambassador Hopkins will be a success,” Butler said carefully, jealously aware that Elliot had the ear of the Prime Minister. Kennedy swore, directly, bluntly and effectively, causing Butler to cough in surprise. Elliot beamed and moved on.
“I tell you Joe, you’re leaving at the right time. I’m not all together sure that we’re in good shape. That creeping little turd is tipped to join me in the FO,” he gestured with a thumb to Elliot. “I don’t know what game the PM is playing but I deserve better than that.”
“He’s an Empire man isn’t he?”
“Elliot, oh yes undoubtedly. Full of hope for the Commonwealth. He keeps badgering us about Canada and South Africa, saying we should listen to their views. And after Winston and this Commonwealth Fleet nonsense,” Butler wearily shook his head. Churchill had recently spoken in the Commons in favour of moving the Pacific squadrons of Britain, Australia, New Zealand and Canada under one unified command in Hong Kong. He had also argued for an American ‘squadron of communication’, a clever ploy that would ensure that should Japan attack the Fleet, she would also be attacking ships flying the flag of the USN. It had immediately drawn a panicked denunciation from Butler and swift letters of correction to the Dominion High Commissioners.
“Maybe you should,” Kennedy said pointedly. “Beaverbrook and his gang are looking to Washington not Whitehall,” he smiled, pleased at the alliteration.
“Yes, but regardless of Winston and his hyperbole if a war broke out the fleets would work together anyway. Of course we want the Canadians working with us. And you Americans should keep your noses out.”
“Hey, Canada’s yours, of course. But we understandably have an interest into everything that goes on there. But maybe Beaverbrook has a point. I’ve heard more from him than I have from Woolton.”
“It’s early days yet, Wooly will pull through,” Butler replied, not sounding as if he cared.
“If I can help, Rab, you can always count on my support.”
It was so generous, so unhesitant, that Butler looked to see whether Kennedy was jesting. His earnest expression convinced Butler that he was not. “Kind of you, Joe,” he offered with his hand. The two men shook hands.
“And watch Hopkins. He has a direct line to FDR,” Kennedy said as the two men proceeded to dinner, a wistful tone in his voice.
“So do you Joe, and from what our Embassy sends us your eldest son has done well out of it, or rather he will do. What did the President want?”
“My support,” he said bitterly. “In exchange for support to Joe.”
“Ah,” said Butler, understanding. “But has the father still an ambition?”
Kennedy’s smile said it all. Chuckling, the two men went into dinner.
[Game Effect] – One of those diplomatic-style tediums which covers a lot of ground.
I am indebted, as ever, to Nathan Madien for assisting this very English Englishman with his detailed knowledge of US politics. In the real 1940s Kennedy by late ’40 was in trouble; remarks made about democracy and the future of both Europe and the UK made his continued presence in London undesirable. With the help of Nathan Madien, who carefully steered me away from a Wendell Willkie Wonderland, Hopkins is the new US Ambassador to the Court of St James, a choice I immediately agreed upon and which no doubt will cause Halifax further grumpiness. He found Kennedy excessively ‘Tiresome’ (a word he used for pretty much anything he disliked) and will initially struggle, I think to get to grips with Hopkins. Kennedy, meanwhile, will go home and groom his eldest son (who, at the minute, is alive – and who knows whether he will survive whatever the Japs unleash) for high office whilst keeping the door open to his own career. I think that in this AAR he will be in a better position to get something for himself and his family: America is not nervously aiding Britain and his criticism of Britain and the British may actually be popular back home. Though I loath Kennedy and all that he stands for I have to be balanced I think that his assessment of the Halifax Government’s performance is unfortunately fairly accurate; Canada and South Africa have been sidelined and Beaverbrook and Mackenzie King are clearly looking, as Kennedy put it, “to Washington rather than Whitehall”. Churchill (still clearly active) and his reasonable suggestion for a united Commonwealth Naval force has met with difficulty; I doubt very much that Butler would have the interest or moral fibre to take this forward. And so another blunder is made by the FO and the Dominions (well, South Africa and Canada anyway – I think that Australia and New Zealand would actually be quite pro-Halifax) further annoyed.
Walter Elliot (another Walter!) makes his first appearance. A regular dining pal of Halifax’s, he’s not yet a minister - I’ve tried to avoid falling back on making only Halifax’s friends cabinet ministers and he is, at present, one of Halifax’s key contacts with the backbenchers (and also, conveniently, he is available for any ministerial vacancy that could offer itself). Expect to see him parachuted into a department if Halifax is forced to make an unexpected reshuffle.
I’ve mentioned the re-organisation of the British Army a number of times, and now at last we see some of its scope. Essentially I tried to be reasonably ‘in keeping’ with the spirit of the Royal Commission’s findings, and the British will go to war with a lot of ARM, MOT and eventually MEC divisions. I did spew out some INF, and of course there’s a small force of Royal Marines forming, but a future BEF will be a Eurocentric force designed to ‘britzkrieg’ the enemy. Eden’s Med obsessions aside, Dill and Gort both suffered the ignominy of the Fall of France first-hand, and both, I think, would be dominated by this experience. As has been pointed out, this is great for fighting in Europe, the Middle East (to a point) and possibly the plains of India, but for the steamy jungles of Burma Dill’s panzers are not really suitable. This may be the reason for the King’s summons to his First Minister, we’ll see if it is in the next update.
TheExecuter: The Empire will certainly be at war, in a slightly ridiculous way that I have had great fun crafting a story around. I’m trying to show how building tensions would be viewed by the British, still rather impotent but at least showing some signs of activity.
Atlantic Friend: Funnily enough, that’s the approach most Brits take abroad with English!
Trekaddict: It’s odd how education systems volte face every so often. When I was at school we studied Latin, French and (very much in third) German. Apparently they learn all sorts of languages now.
Kurt_Steiner: But will Japan go for Britain? The Dutch East Indies are arguably more tempting as they are alone in the world with their mother country overrun. The French, in Indochina are also a tempting prize. Would Tokyo view a strongly isolationist Britain as not worth the bother (Halifax’s hope) or as a rich prize easily taken (as feared by the Royal Navy?).
Trekaddict: Another oddity is how an accent in a foreign tongue (I’m of course thinking of English here) stems from one’s teacher, and how it sometimes runs deeper. At university we had a number of students from Brunei. Those learning from those bastions of Empire (the BBC, English teachers, the Oxford English Dictionary) were of course more English than the English. Those learning from US resources were very American, both in outlook and accent.
BritishImperial: And following on from that thought it is humbling and a little bizarre when native speakers slaughter our glorious tongue. Sorry to sound like such a traditionalist but that’s the National Curriculum for you!
Enewald: I think that Monckton sees Britain’s impotence in Eastern Europe – the deals will be made and broken regardless of British involvement. Whilst this was true in the real 1940 to a degree, the lack of a cohesive foreign policy is crippling the Ambassadors and it is left to individual diplomats (personified by Clark in South Africa and Monckton in Berlin) to do their best for British interests.
Atlantic Friend: I love the way in which languages reflect culture (or vice versa). I have to confess my schoolboy French is now creaking beyond hope of salvation.
Trekaddict: Oh please Lord not Harry Potter. I’m afraid it never captured my interest – though I have made a stab at one of the books and suffered the horrors of one of the films I find it hopelessly awful. I lost two hours to that film, two hours that I will never get back…
Nathan Madien: I have, perhaps, been simplistic in assuming that the Germans and Russians would plough on with the economic deal as they did in reality, certainly the question has to be asked whether Russia would want to go ahead now that she is the obvious next target for German aggression. But I actually think that at this period Moscow believes the tripe about shared co-existence and would be more, not less, eager to prop up the Reich’s economy. As for the British, at present I genuinely think that Berlin does not view Britain as a threat. Perhaps if Labour had won the election, or if Halifax steps down (which, barring a war, he probably will do) after a suitable time in office, then Germany would reassess her policy on the Empire.
Atlantic Friend: The Hobbit! Now there’s a book! Thorin Oakenshield, Smaug, MARVELLOUS! Ahem. Back to the AAR, one of the longer-term legacies of my research is that I can bore incessantly on trivia about minor British politicians. Where else but this lunacy of a story would Hankey, Monckton and co find such glory?!
Atlantic Friend: I have to confess the tapping bit was fun to craft – sneaky Germans keeping their eyes (or ears I guess) on Halifax’s man in Berlin.
Trekaddict: Really? I had no idea that globalisation had overgrown so much. I remember in Norfolk ( the Virginia one) last year, the fun I had trying to buy books on the War of 1812. The assistant (delightfully helpful, not like bloody Waterstones!), a charming girl (again, not like bloody Waterstones!) took me to a shelf that was, title for title, almost exactly the same as the books on offer in the UK. It was the same for the Napoleonics, though I have to confess that I didn’t ask for any of the Halifax biographies.
Oh yes and – the ‘book of the week’? Sharpe’s bloody Fury.
Atlantic Friend: …and clearly the situation exists in France as well.
Kurt_Steiner/BritishImperial/Enewald/Nathan Madien/Morsky: Glad you liked the 'funnies'.
Speaking of "my first english book", mine was Goodnight Mr. Tom Which wasn't easy I can tell, you considering the ridicilous phonetic accents.
That's what makes the AAR all the more interesting. In a way, it's like my first seeing "The Usual Suspects". I knew none of the actors, so I remained on my toes, not knowing who's the good guy, who's the bad guy, or who's going to die first.
In History also, the "supporting cast" is a treasure trove of fascinating characters, and of even more interesting what-ifs.
So - 1963 it is, for this AAR's limit. And if by the time you reach 1963 HoI4 is released with a full 1936-2020 timeline, you know what we're going to demand forcefully, don't you ?
And the commonwealth tries to pull itself together before the storm comes back...
Well, while the Wehrmacht is busy freezing in front of Moscow, the Royal Marines will have D-Day in the Baltic!
Eat that, you Fritz!
Eat that, you Fritz!
excellent. any future war is going to be conducted quite differently by the british army, it seems. at least in europe.
oh and also, sorry to carry on an off-topic discussion but i have the defend the honour of the Harry Potter books. Except the last one which wasn't brave enough to have a realistic ending.
oh and also, sorry to carry on an off-topic discussion but i have the defend the honour of the Harry Potter books. Except the last one which wasn't brave enough to have a realistic ending.
That certainly made my day.
I am glad to be of service in helping you with American politics at this time. I will be interested to see the interaction between Halifax and Hopkins - a man who has FDR's ear in a way someone like Willkie (who became one of the casualties of the Treaty of Milan by taking the momentum out of his campaign for the Republican nomination) does not have.
Then there are the Kennedys. I think it is reasonable to assume that one of them will make it to the White House. Exactly who remains to be seen.
Chapter 110, Buckingham Palace, 1 February 1941
The King and Halifax were taking tea. The King, deeply concerned over the recent news from Africa and Eastern Europe, listened intently as Halifax reeled off the latest news from Africa.
“The news is gwim, Sir. The webels continue to launch small attacks against Fwench and German installations. The latest attack, on an ammunition convoy, saw a gweat deal of bloodshed and destwuction. According to Walter Monckton the Germans have ordered another division of infantry to join the Afrika Korps.”
“Terrifying, Edward. Any d-danger to us?”
“No, Sir. Our policy of neutwality is paying off. The webels are doing surpwisingly well, but as their pocket of resistance is increasingly constricted I expect them to capitulate within two months. Anthony Eden has prepared this chart for Your Majesty’s perusal. The arrow on the left shows the webel tewwitowy.”
The King squinted at the map. “It’s still a large area, Edward. The rebels are taking a long time to be d-defeated!”
Halifax smiled softly. “The Belgians may decide the matter. The South Africans have reported that a large Belgian force, perhaps as many as sixty five thousand men, was defeated by a French and German force half their size. The Belgians, we understand, are now in full wetreat. Their cuwwent location is the arrow on the right.”
The King looked wearily at his Prime Minister. “This, Edward, is upsetting. The detritus of peace.”
“Indeed, Sir,” Halifax said, equally sombrely.
“Ah yes Edward, we t-thought that we knew everything, and yet as a result of the ceasefire the Dutch and Belgians were abandoned.” The King closed his eyes. “I sometimes feel, Edward, that I abandoned them.” He spoke with emotion, the bitter feelings that he had struggled to keep buried finally surfacing.
Halifax shook his head. “There was no other way, Sir. Without the Treaty of Milan we too would have had our homelands ovewwun. The Dutch and Belgians showed us that the war was not winnable.”
The King nodded, head sunk low. Rousing himself, he tried to look decisive, confident. “What news of the Dutch, Edward?”
“They wemain westricted to their not insubstantial Pacific holdings. A Government has been established in Batavia and they have vowed to keep fighting for the recovery of their homeland. The Dutch wemain an embawassment to the Germans. Neither side appears to have the ability or motivation to attack. Which bwings us to the Japanese.”
The King looked alarmed. “Go on.”
“There is a theory popular in some of the intelligence circles that suggests that the Germans and Japanese could form some sort of alliance. Japan could gain Dutch territowies in exchange for German technological support, and some sort of mutual defence package.”
“W-what do you think, Edward?”
“I think that the Japanese will act in their own intewests. Whilst Java and Borneo are tempting pwizes for the Japanese, I don’t see why they need an alliance with Germany to secure them. Also, the intelligence suggests that they are active, with munitions being sent from the Home Islands to their Chinese holdings, but we don’t know what they’re up to.”
“Who could s-stop them?”
“The Amewicans, in concert with the Woyal Navy. Lord Hankey wishes to deliver a brief on the Amewican Fleet to me after this audience.”
“What about the F-french?”
“Their own Pacific Empire is one of the largest. If Japan was to thweaten it then the Germans could not twy an alliance with Japan. I have to admit that I think that Herr Hitler has miscalculated the Pacific situation,” Halifax chuckled soflty.
“I am grateful, Edward, for your diligence. How is the campaigning going?”
Halifax sighed. The by-election for the Doncaster seat was becoming bitter. The Birmingham election last December (a result, of course, of Chamberlain’s death) had been an easy Tory victory, but Doncaster was looking like staying firmly Labour. “It is pwoving difficult, Sir. Attlee’s leadership depends upon him winning by-elections, captuwing seats from me as well as holding on to traditionally Labour areas.”
“Ah. Has Mosley given you any more trouble?”
Halifax looked heavenward, as if in prayer. “After their vocal support of the Tweaty with Germany I have to confess I feared that Mosley and his wather silly band would knock us off our stwide. They seem confined to twoublemaking in the East-End of London.”
The King, all honest concern and Hannoverian superiority, looked at his friend. “Do not underestimate them, Edward.”
After exchanging pleasantries Halifax walked back to Downing Street, as he liked to do when the weather was pleasant. He noted that after such a cold Christmas London was enjoying the bright weather, praying that it would continue into the Spring. After the horrors of the previous year the British were cautiously optimistic for 1941; aside from rebellion in Africa and the final embers of resistance in Europe life was tranquil. The German build-up in Russia seemed nothing more than an expansion of their existing defences. Japan, as ever, was aggressive and threatening, but for most Britons Japan was too far away to generate real fear. Halifax noted that the greetings people offered him seemed warm, even relieved. They have hope. They, like me, feel that we are over the worst of it, and that we can look forward to quieter days.
Halifax entered Downing Street and gratefully took tea from Cole. As it was a bright morning Halifax decided to move the meeting to the Cabinet Room. There they could look out over the Downing Street gardens. Hankey, similarly contented, entered with Butler and Dill. Hankey nodded cheerfully at Cole and offered Halifax the now customary ‘top secret’ folder.
“I see, Mauwice, it’s an intelligent assessment. The Amewicans have a sizeable force.”
“Indeed, My Lord. Personally I think it sells their naval capacity a wee bit short. I’d say four carriers, and a few more cruisers.”
“And their Army?”
Dill coughed, directing attention to him. “I doubt that they really can field six armoured divisions. But the industrial base of American industry does not rule this out.”
“A ha,” Halifax said softly. “What of the Japanese?”
“The next page, My Lord,” Hankey said softly.
“As you can see, Prime Minister,” Dill said, his expression one of concern, “The Japanese are a potent force”.
“However,” Hankey said quickly, “I for one am not convinced by this report. I think we need to improve our intelligence on the Japanese.”
“Agreed,” said Butler, not particularly interested in Asia, but accepting the need to beef up Britain’s efforts. “At least to give an insight into what they are up to.”
“What do we envisage as their aims?”
“Well, Prime Minister, I fear that there are so many places in which the Japanese could exert themselves.” Dill said this with wearied resignation.
“Pway, Genewal Dill, do you agwee that we need to further wefine our efforts on the Japanese.”
“I do, My Lord.”
Halifax nodded. He hated the British reliance on the Secret Services. But he trusted Dill and so with a characteristic pursing of the lips looked down at the sheets laid out before him. “Then let us focus our information gathewing to the Japanese.”
[Game Effect] – The British again have a meeting to look at the Pacific. I have to admit I find the espionage element of DD to be the least effective, but it does give a lot of scope for the writer. Here, Halifax has realised the importance of knowing, as Wellington described it, “what is on the other side of the hill”. With only a couple of effective agents in Japan (the focus in 1940, understandably, on the Germans and Italians) Britain is now struggling to get to grips with the new potential foe. Expect further naval reinforcements as well as the start of Anglo-American discussions. I’ve also tried to answer, gently, some of the questions about the Pacific. Essentially the Dutch soldier on in their huge Pacific Empire, whilst China is now under Japanese control. The options for the Japanese, as explained to the King, appear to be further consolidation of their Chinese conquests, striking south into Indochina, or the Phillipines, or the Dutch holdings. The Dutch and French are weak in the region, with minimal garrisons keeping a strained grasp on the colonies. Another option sees the Japanese striking down through Siam and Burma. But Britain, thanks to Hankey’s “Pacific First” approach, is far stronger in the Far East than she was in reality and the Japanese will have noted the huge build-up of forces in the region. The Russians, up in the far north, are still strong and as yet unhindered by war in Europe and without a German commitment to Barbarossa the Japanese will struggle.
I have mentioned some domestic matters – following Chamberlain’s death the Conservative Party held on to his seat in the Commons easily. Doncaster then will become a test for the post-election landscape, and I think that Attlee’s survival as Labour leader will depend on holding this seat.
In Africa the Belgians and French managed to make a complete and utter mess of things. The Belgians in particular managed to lose their main field army to a motley collection of French and German divisions half their size. As seen by the map, they are slowly being strangled into submission.
Arilou: At least ‘Goodnight Mister Tom’ is a WWII story!
Trekaddict: The departure of Kennedy is a huge boost to my morale! I genuinely think that his days were numbered and FDR has carefully moved him aside.
Atlantic Friend: Well, I’ve got the vague timeline sorted out and have a rough idea as to how the events will unfold into the future, so the beast will slog on...
Enewald: The Commonwealth, despite the ongoing threat in the Pacific, is of course deeply divided. Australia and New Zealand will continue to support the British, particularly as Halifax has increased the defences in the Far East, whilst Canada and South Africa will probably push for even greater autonomy, whilst beginning to actively court the Americans.
Kurt_Steiner: Kurt, Kurt, whilst the ‘booties’ would undoubtedly have fun in the Baltic, Halifax would despair at hostilities in Europe.
BritishImperial: Agreed – if a war would break out the British have a better chance, with a lot of good quality divisions forming the re-constituted BEF. But I think that Gort and Co have misjudged its application in the Med and the Far East.
Nathan Madien: I think that Halifax will be a tough nut for the Americans to crack – he was naturally disinclined to FDR’s brand ofdiplomacy and initially handled his job in Washington disastrously. Hopefully Hopkins’ skill will overcome this.
The King and Halifax were taking tea. The King, deeply concerned over the recent news from Africa and Eastern Europe, listened intently as Halifax reeled off the latest news from Africa.
“The news is gwim, Sir. The webels continue to launch small attacks against Fwench and German installations. The latest attack, on an ammunition convoy, saw a gweat deal of bloodshed and destwuction. According to Walter Monckton the Germans have ordered another division of infantry to join the Afrika Korps.”
“Terrifying, Edward. Any d-danger to us?”
“No, Sir. Our policy of neutwality is paying off. The webels are doing surpwisingly well, but as their pocket of resistance is increasingly constricted I expect them to capitulate within two months. Anthony Eden has prepared this chart for Your Majesty’s perusal. The arrow on the left shows the webel tewwitowy.”
The King squinted at the map. “It’s still a large area, Edward. The rebels are taking a long time to be d-defeated!”
Halifax smiled softly. “The Belgians may decide the matter. The South Africans have reported that a large Belgian force, perhaps as many as sixty five thousand men, was defeated by a French and German force half their size. The Belgians, we understand, are now in full wetreat. Their cuwwent location is the arrow on the right.”
The King looked wearily at his Prime Minister. “This, Edward, is upsetting. The detritus of peace.”
“Indeed, Sir,” Halifax said, equally sombrely.
“Ah yes Edward, we t-thought that we knew everything, and yet as a result of the ceasefire the Dutch and Belgians were abandoned.” The King closed his eyes. “I sometimes feel, Edward, that I abandoned them.” He spoke with emotion, the bitter feelings that he had struggled to keep buried finally surfacing.
Halifax shook his head. “There was no other way, Sir. Without the Treaty of Milan we too would have had our homelands ovewwun. The Dutch and Belgians showed us that the war was not winnable.”
The King nodded, head sunk low. Rousing himself, he tried to look decisive, confident. “What news of the Dutch, Edward?”
“They wemain westricted to their not insubstantial Pacific holdings. A Government has been established in Batavia and they have vowed to keep fighting for the recovery of their homeland. The Dutch wemain an embawassment to the Germans. Neither side appears to have the ability or motivation to attack. Which bwings us to the Japanese.”
The King looked alarmed. “Go on.”
“There is a theory popular in some of the intelligence circles that suggests that the Germans and Japanese could form some sort of alliance. Japan could gain Dutch territowies in exchange for German technological support, and some sort of mutual defence package.”
“W-what do you think, Edward?”
“I think that the Japanese will act in their own intewests. Whilst Java and Borneo are tempting pwizes for the Japanese, I don’t see why they need an alliance with Germany to secure them. Also, the intelligence suggests that they are active, with munitions being sent from the Home Islands to their Chinese holdings, but we don’t know what they’re up to.”
“Who could s-stop them?”
“The Amewicans, in concert with the Woyal Navy. Lord Hankey wishes to deliver a brief on the Amewican Fleet to me after this audience.”
“What about the F-french?”
“Their own Pacific Empire is one of the largest. If Japan was to thweaten it then the Germans could not twy an alliance with Japan. I have to admit that I think that Herr Hitler has miscalculated the Pacific situation,” Halifax chuckled soflty.
“I am grateful, Edward, for your diligence. How is the campaigning going?”
Halifax sighed. The by-election for the Doncaster seat was becoming bitter. The Birmingham election last December (a result, of course, of Chamberlain’s death) had been an easy Tory victory, but Doncaster was looking like staying firmly Labour. “It is pwoving difficult, Sir. Attlee’s leadership depends upon him winning by-elections, captuwing seats from me as well as holding on to traditionally Labour areas.”
“Ah. Has Mosley given you any more trouble?”
Halifax looked heavenward, as if in prayer. “After their vocal support of the Tweaty with Germany I have to confess I feared that Mosley and his wather silly band would knock us off our stwide. They seem confined to twoublemaking in the East-End of London.”
The King, all honest concern and Hannoverian superiority, looked at his friend. “Do not underestimate them, Edward.”
After exchanging pleasantries Halifax walked back to Downing Street, as he liked to do when the weather was pleasant. He noted that after such a cold Christmas London was enjoying the bright weather, praying that it would continue into the Spring. After the horrors of the previous year the British were cautiously optimistic for 1941; aside from rebellion in Africa and the final embers of resistance in Europe life was tranquil. The German build-up in Russia seemed nothing more than an expansion of their existing defences. Japan, as ever, was aggressive and threatening, but for most Britons Japan was too far away to generate real fear. Halifax noted that the greetings people offered him seemed warm, even relieved. They have hope. They, like me, feel that we are over the worst of it, and that we can look forward to quieter days.
Halifax entered Downing Street and gratefully took tea from Cole. As it was a bright morning Halifax decided to move the meeting to the Cabinet Room. There they could look out over the Downing Street gardens. Hankey, similarly contented, entered with Butler and Dill. Hankey nodded cheerfully at Cole and offered Halifax the now customary ‘top secret’ folder.
“I see, Mauwice, it’s an intelligent assessment. The Amewicans have a sizeable force.”
“Indeed, My Lord. Personally I think it sells their naval capacity a wee bit short. I’d say four carriers, and a few more cruisers.”
“And their Army?”
Dill coughed, directing attention to him. “I doubt that they really can field six armoured divisions. But the industrial base of American industry does not rule this out.”
“A ha,” Halifax said softly. “What of the Japanese?”
“The next page, My Lord,” Hankey said softly.
“As you can see, Prime Minister,” Dill said, his expression one of concern, “The Japanese are a potent force”.
“However,” Hankey said quickly, “I for one am not convinced by this report. I think we need to improve our intelligence on the Japanese.”
“Agreed,” said Butler, not particularly interested in Asia, but accepting the need to beef up Britain’s efforts. “At least to give an insight into what they are up to.”
“What do we envisage as their aims?”
“Well, Prime Minister, I fear that there are so many places in which the Japanese could exert themselves.” Dill said this with wearied resignation.
“Pway, Genewal Dill, do you agwee that we need to further wefine our efforts on the Japanese.”
“I do, My Lord.”
Halifax nodded. He hated the British reliance on the Secret Services. But he trusted Dill and so with a characteristic pursing of the lips looked down at the sheets laid out before him. “Then let us focus our information gathewing to the Japanese.”
[Game Effect] – The British again have a meeting to look at the Pacific. I have to admit I find the espionage element of DD to be the least effective, but it does give a lot of scope for the writer. Here, Halifax has realised the importance of knowing, as Wellington described it, “what is on the other side of the hill”. With only a couple of effective agents in Japan (the focus in 1940, understandably, on the Germans and Italians) Britain is now struggling to get to grips with the new potential foe. Expect further naval reinforcements as well as the start of Anglo-American discussions. I’ve also tried to answer, gently, some of the questions about the Pacific. Essentially the Dutch soldier on in their huge Pacific Empire, whilst China is now under Japanese control. The options for the Japanese, as explained to the King, appear to be further consolidation of their Chinese conquests, striking south into Indochina, or the Phillipines, or the Dutch holdings. The Dutch and French are weak in the region, with minimal garrisons keeping a strained grasp on the colonies. Another option sees the Japanese striking down through Siam and Burma. But Britain, thanks to Hankey’s “Pacific First” approach, is far stronger in the Far East than she was in reality and the Japanese will have noted the huge build-up of forces in the region. The Russians, up in the far north, are still strong and as yet unhindered by war in Europe and without a German commitment to Barbarossa the Japanese will struggle.
I have mentioned some domestic matters – following Chamberlain’s death the Conservative Party held on to his seat in the Commons easily. Doncaster then will become a test for the post-election landscape, and I think that Attlee’s survival as Labour leader will depend on holding this seat.
In Africa the Belgians and French managed to make a complete and utter mess of things. The Belgians in particular managed to lose their main field army to a motley collection of French and German divisions half their size. As seen by the map, they are slowly being strangled into submission.
Arilou: At least ‘Goodnight Mister Tom’ is a WWII story!
Trekaddict: The departure of Kennedy is a huge boost to my morale! I genuinely think that his days were numbered and FDR has carefully moved him aside.
Atlantic Friend: Well, I’ve got the vague timeline sorted out and have a rough idea as to how the events will unfold into the future, so the beast will slog on...
Enewald: The Commonwealth, despite the ongoing threat in the Pacific, is of course deeply divided. Australia and New Zealand will continue to support the British, particularly as Halifax has increased the defences in the Far East, whilst Canada and South Africa will probably push for even greater autonomy, whilst beginning to actively court the Americans.
Kurt_Steiner: Kurt, Kurt, whilst the ‘booties’ would undoubtedly have fun in the Baltic, Halifax would despair at hostilities in Europe.
BritishImperial: Agreed – if a war would break out the British have a better chance, with a lot of good quality divisions forming the re-constituted BEF. But I think that Gort and Co have misjudged its application in the Med and the Far East.
Nathan Madien: I think that Halifax will be a tough nut for the Americans to crack – he was naturally disinclined to FDR’s brand ofdiplomacy and initially handled his job in Washington disastrously. Hopefully Hopkins’ skill will overcome this.
Poow webels, being wepwessed... Hopefully the protracted African war in the sweltering jungles of the Congo will take its toll on ze German war machine. As for the Japanese, they look to be a credible threat. Perhapsh you should shend a shertain shecret agent to inveshtigate mattersh more thoroughly, eh?
Too wisky, I guess.
Gnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn redux here, too.
For God's sake, I, for once, I'm waiting eagerly to Tokio to strike!
Hitler, you fool, attack Russia at once!
"Keep fighting for the recovery of their homeland"...the Dutch really shouldn't hold their breath. I don't think that will happen anytime soon.
Chapter 111, Salisbury, Rhodesia, 8 February 1941
Mayne was alive, in part at least due to his ability to sense danger before it came looking for him. He therefore felt highly alert to this sudden interruption to a week’s break from the fighting. The first day he reported to the austere colonial club he just sat quietly in the non-residents’ lounge at the appointed hour waiting for something, anything to happen. He gave it two hours, but it, whatever it was, was bloody slow to reveal itself. Finally, after nearly three hours of reading the very limited selection of British periodicals, a uniformed attendant politely handed the shabbily dressed Mayne a telegraph with only a hint of disdain. Ignoring the man’s condescension, Mayne opened the message, that had come from a London club.
“From Cousin Freddie
Father in trouble with the board stop Money for your African hunting no longer forthcoming stop Request that you return home to help the firm fight its corner stop perhaps one last hunting trip could be allowed stop pass my regards on to your brother”
It was typically Neame, and Mayne immediately left the club and began to make his way back to the fighting further north.
It was two days later. Eight men ran in a low crouch, up through the scrubland of the hillside and out onto the plain at the top. It was after four in the morning, and no lights were burning in the camp. Mayne knew that between the top of the rise and the German barracks they would meet the old colonial road, and standing at the junction would be at least two palace guards. He expected he would not be able to take them both silently, and that after the firing started the others would have to crawl the last hundred yards to the camp’s wall. He was right.
Mayne and another man, a South-African, were out ahead of the other six when they made the road junction, and already both were wet with sweat. Their faces, blackened with sepia-dye, were streaked by the running perspiration. At a hundred yards Mayne could see the line of the roof against the skies, though he missed the guards until he almost stumbled over one. The man was seated on the ground, smoking. He was slow to react and Mayne made the most of the surprise. But the German was no fool and yelled in alarm, the call attracting his partner, hidden in a dip in the ground a few feet away. The second man rose, coughed once as the South-African’s knife sliced into him, and sagged slowly, joining the first guard. But, further ahead, close to the camp gates, there was a second cry, and the sounds of men rushing to their positions. It was never, at least in Mayne’s mind, very clear who fired first. A few wild shots were fired around the rise, the Germans knowing only vaguely the location of the attackers. Mayne and his squad fired equally feebly, concentrating on making a noise and directing the fire their way. It worked, and a few minutes later the first grenades from Calvert’s squad (for Mayne was of course merely a diversion) started to hit the buildings of the compound. The first grenade hit the roof, did not penetrate but instead blew the tiles off above the gutter. The second and third landed in the ammunition and fuel dumps respectively, throwing sparks, debris and boiling smoke around the cluster of buildings. After the reverberations of the final explosions died away, Mayne heard a variety of screams and shouts from inside the German facility. These were the first and last sounds the defenders made before the roar of explosions silenced everything else. Mayne nodded in an efficient, businesslike way; Calvert and his team of demolition ‘experts’ had set their explosives brilliantly and now scarpered to join to Mayne and his team.
“Covering fire, give them some support,” Mayne bellowed. In truth it was not necessary; any German survivors were content to let the British seep away in the night. Calvert, risky to the end, was dressed in identifiably British uniform. Like everyone in his squad he was unharmed and now clasped Mayne’s hand.
“We bloody did it.”
“Yes we did. Hell of a way to mark our going home.”
Calvert didn’t say much; he looked back at the column of smoke rising heavenward. The pinprick raid would help the retreating Belgians by removing German command and control in a crucial sector. But the truth was obvious to them all. The Belgians, and their motley French rebel allies, were doomed. And Neame, ever aware that his little squad had already drawn enough attention to themselves, wanted them to get out whilst they still could. After a fun few months, Mayne was going home.
[Game Effect] – And so the “dirty dozen” style squad sent to aid the French rebels enjoy a bravura swansong. I think that with the collapse of the Belgians and rebels imminent Neame would want to get his squad out as soon as possible; for them to be captured would be a diplomatic nightmare (although Halifax could probably weasel out of any governmental responsibility). And so the French rebels, along with the utterly defeated Belgians (and oh boy was it a one-sided affair) will probably run and hide until another opportunity to strike out against the Reich reveals itself.
‘Mad’ Mike Calvert, Royal Engineer and all round ‘boy’s own’ hero makes his first appearance in the AAR. Don’t worry, he’ll be back.
Trekaddict: Sorry – much as I want the British to do something honourable it’s still a wee while off.
Morsky: Well, Halifax will certainly send whomever he can! The German contribution to the Fascist victory in Africa was fairly minor (I think about four divisions in the front line at any time) but seemed to perform much better than the French armies, dealing the Belgians their humiliating defeat.
Kurt_Steiner: Agreed, only an attack by another nation can save the AAR!
Enewald: Oh yes, the Japs are in a better position than this and the British Intelligence assessment was based on overstretched resources – hence the plan to increase the British monitoring of their potential foes.
Nathan Madien: The Dutch are, unfortunately, doomed.
Mayne was alive, in part at least due to his ability to sense danger before it came looking for him. He therefore felt highly alert to this sudden interruption to a week’s break from the fighting. The first day he reported to the austere colonial club he just sat quietly in the non-residents’ lounge at the appointed hour waiting for something, anything to happen. He gave it two hours, but it, whatever it was, was bloody slow to reveal itself. Finally, after nearly three hours of reading the very limited selection of British periodicals, a uniformed attendant politely handed the shabbily dressed Mayne a telegraph with only a hint of disdain. Ignoring the man’s condescension, Mayne opened the message, that had come from a London club.
“From Cousin Freddie
Father in trouble with the board stop Money for your African hunting no longer forthcoming stop Request that you return home to help the firm fight its corner stop perhaps one last hunting trip could be allowed stop pass my regards on to your brother”
It was typically Neame, and Mayne immediately left the club and began to make his way back to the fighting further north.
It was two days later. Eight men ran in a low crouch, up through the scrubland of the hillside and out onto the plain at the top. It was after four in the morning, and no lights were burning in the camp. Mayne knew that between the top of the rise and the German barracks they would meet the old colonial road, and standing at the junction would be at least two palace guards. He expected he would not be able to take them both silently, and that after the firing started the others would have to crawl the last hundred yards to the camp’s wall. He was right.
Mayne and another man, a South-African, were out ahead of the other six when they made the road junction, and already both were wet with sweat. Their faces, blackened with sepia-dye, were streaked by the running perspiration. At a hundred yards Mayne could see the line of the roof against the skies, though he missed the guards until he almost stumbled over one. The man was seated on the ground, smoking. He was slow to react and Mayne made the most of the surprise. But the German was no fool and yelled in alarm, the call attracting his partner, hidden in a dip in the ground a few feet away. The second man rose, coughed once as the South-African’s knife sliced into him, and sagged slowly, joining the first guard. But, further ahead, close to the camp gates, there was a second cry, and the sounds of men rushing to their positions. It was never, at least in Mayne’s mind, very clear who fired first. A few wild shots were fired around the rise, the Germans knowing only vaguely the location of the attackers. Mayne and his squad fired equally feebly, concentrating on making a noise and directing the fire their way. It worked, and a few minutes later the first grenades from Calvert’s squad (for Mayne was of course merely a diversion) started to hit the buildings of the compound. The first grenade hit the roof, did not penetrate but instead blew the tiles off above the gutter. The second and third landed in the ammunition and fuel dumps respectively, throwing sparks, debris and boiling smoke around the cluster of buildings. After the reverberations of the final explosions died away, Mayne heard a variety of screams and shouts from inside the German facility. These were the first and last sounds the defenders made before the roar of explosions silenced everything else. Mayne nodded in an efficient, businesslike way; Calvert and his team of demolition ‘experts’ had set their explosives brilliantly and now scarpered to join to Mayne and his team.
“Covering fire, give them some support,” Mayne bellowed. In truth it was not necessary; any German survivors were content to let the British seep away in the night. Calvert, risky to the end, was dressed in identifiably British uniform. Like everyone in his squad he was unharmed and now clasped Mayne’s hand.
“We bloody did it.”
“Yes we did. Hell of a way to mark our going home.”
Calvert didn’t say much; he looked back at the column of smoke rising heavenward. The pinprick raid would help the retreating Belgians by removing German command and control in a crucial sector. But the truth was obvious to them all. The Belgians, and their motley French rebel allies, were doomed. And Neame, ever aware that his little squad had already drawn enough attention to themselves, wanted them to get out whilst they still could. After a fun few months, Mayne was going home.
[Game Effect] – And so the “dirty dozen” style squad sent to aid the French rebels enjoy a bravura swansong. I think that with the collapse of the Belgians and rebels imminent Neame would want to get his squad out as soon as possible; for them to be captured would be a diplomatic nightmare (although Halifax could probably weasel out of any governmental responsibility). And so the French rebels, along with the utterly defeated Belgians (and oh boy was it a one-sided affair) will probably run and hide until another opportunity to strike out against the Reich reveals itself.
‘Mad’ Mike Calvert, Royal Engineer and all round ‘boy’s own’ hero makes his first appearance in the AAR. Don’t worry, he’ll be back.
Trekaddict: Sorry – much as I want the British to do something honourable it’s still a wee while off.
Morsky: Well, Halifax will certainly send whomever he can! The German contribution to the Fascist victory in Africa was fairly minor (I think about four divisions in the front line at any time) but seemed to perform much better than the French armies, dealing the Belgians their humiliating defeat.
Kurt_Steiner: Agreed, only an attack by another nation can save the AAR!
Enewald: Oh yes, the Japs are in a better position than this and the British Intelligence assessment was based on overstretched resources – hence the plan to increase the British monitoring of their potential foes.
Nathan Madien: The Dutch are, unfortunately, doomed.