Christopher Nuttall - The Invasion of 1950

“Excellent,” Baeck said, silently thanking God that he kept all of the records in his own head. He could have given Rommel a man-by-man description if he had had to, but instead, Rommel just wanted an overview. “The unit has been training hard and is at the peak of perfection.”

“Good,” Rommel said. “ Kapitän zur See Wulff, how about your ship?”

Wulff hesitated. “The ship is in fine condition,” he said, puzzled. Baeck was equally puzzled; he could see how his unit might be involved with the Kriegsmarine , but he didn’t understand how it all fitted together, not yet. “We just returned from the Felixstowe run and unloaded the British goods; we’re not due to make the run again for three weeks.”

“Yes,” Rommel agreed. He stood up and unfolded a map. “This map was created by an intelligence officer who sailed with your ship, and examined the port and its surrounding environs carefully. The British have been building up the port over the last few years, allowing greater and greater trade with the Reich …”

Baeck spoke before realising that he had opened his mouth. “The British trade with us?”

“They send us some raw materials we cannot get for ourselves, we send them some machine tools and manufactured goods,” Rommel said, dryly. “It is not something that is widely discussed, but it forms a small, but important part of the Reich’s long term plan for dominance. This time, the Hans Bader will not be carrying machine tools, but an entire unit of German infantry, trained for operations in a port.”

“My unit,” Baeck said, understanding. He glanced over at Wulff. “How many of my men could I fit into your ship?”

“If they don’t mind being uncomfortable for a few hours, we could fit in several thousand,” Wulff said after a moment’s thought. Baeck silently took that down a few hundred; they’d have to bring in equipment and weapons as well as just the men. “The question will be when the British would want to inspect the ship.”

Baeck frowned. “When do they inspect the ship normally?”

“They normally send in a team of inspectors as soon as the ship docks,” Wulff said. His finger pointed to a docking slip on the map. “We’re a heavy ship, so we dock here for quick access and unloading, before being moved to another slip, where we are loaded up again. Once we dock here, the ship is inspected before anyone is allowed to leave, but once the ship is inspected and unloading is under way, some of the crew are allowed a brief period of shore leave.”

“It won’t matter,” Baeck said, thinking carefully. “We’ll have to move as soon as we dock and take the docks before anyone can react. What about defences?”

Wulff skimmed through the briefing notes. “They have a Home Guard barracks nearby, perhaps with at least a small regular army detachment as well, and a regular set of barracks outside the city,” he said, after a moment. “What about reinforcements Sir?”

“They’ll be on their way,” Rommel said, shortly. “At most, you’ll have to hold the port for two hours before the reinforcements arrive and start to unload.”

Baeck’s father had served with Rommel and had spoken highly of him in the past. If Rommel said that something could be done, then it could be done, but Baeck knew that it was going to be tricky; street fighting was dreaded by all soldiers just because it could cut down the advantages of training and weaponry to the bare minimum. The British Home Guard wasn’t regarded highly by German observers, but if they counter-attacked swiftly enough to keep most of his force penned up in the ship, they would be defeated rapidly enough to ensure that the British would meet the reinforcements from a position of strength. If that happened, then the invasion would almost certainly fail.

“We’re going to have to run drills,” he said, thoughtfully. “We’ll need a second ship like the Hans Bader , one with the same design, but maybe altered inside to allow for quick unloading under fire, and then run more drills on it. It’s going to be tricky, but it can be done…”

He paused. “Are you going to be coming on the mission?”

“The British will expect to see me,” Kapitän zur See Wulff said, and Baeck saw the naval officer he had once been in his stance. Hell, technically, he was still a naval officer; how long had the invasion plans been maturing? “If there was someone else in command of the ship, they might want to go through more careful checks, just in case. They know me and I bring them some smuggled goods from the continent.”

Baeck lifted an eyebrow. “French wines, mostly,” Wulff admitted. “They sell for a great deal of money in Britain and the customs inspectors have a little business going on the side.”

“Which lets you get into their confidence,” Baeck agreed, smiling. Humans, British or German, were all the same; they were always watching out for the main chance to better themselves. “Are there any other issues that we should be aware of before we start planning?”

“The timing issue,” Rommel said, shortly. “There are other operations being planned, some of them much more drastic, and if you’re not in position by the correct time, the British may refuse to allow you to dock. If that happens, the first part of the invasion plan will fall apart and we’ll have to make a landing onto a beach instead.”

Baeck shuddered. He’d taken part in a drill on several Baltic islands and discovered that landing a large force without a port was very difficult, much harder than anyone had made it seem before they had actually tried it. The results of the first drill had been disastrous, with seventeen fatal accidents in the test, even without live ammunition being issued. The idea of a forced landing under enemy fire chilled his blood; if the British had a unit dug in on the beach, they’d tear his force to ribbons.

“I understand,” Baeck said, seriously. He glanced over at Wulff; they were going to have to work together just to ensure that they got across the Channel without arousing the slightest amount of suspicion. They might have to tear the Hans Bader apart to ensure that the soldiers could disembark quickly and efficiently, but if that weren’t done perfectly, the ship would never sail again. “We won’t fail you, Herr Feldmarschall .”

London, England

Alex DeRiemer found himself distracted the moment he walked into Ten Downing Street, recognising at once that he was standing in a monument to British history. Ten Downing Street wasn’t as impressive as some of the world’s governing centres, not the White House, or the Reichstag , or the Kremlin before Hitler’s bulldozers had moved in and ground it to dust. However it was still the centre of an empire upon which the sun was supposed never to set.

But that sun was setting, DeRiemer knew. The men he was supposed to be briefing were the men who were presiding over the dissolution of the British Empire.

The pressure of having the Reich on the other side of the Channel and the growing independence movement in India had had their effects on the Prime Minister. India, in particular, would be independent in five years, maybe less.

“It strikes everyone that way,” Major-General Sir Stewart Menzies said, as they walked up the stairs and into the Cabinet Room. Menzies had asked DeRiemer to come in person to brief the Cabinet, but DeRiemer suspected that they weren’t going to listen to him; he was too junior for any of them to take seriously. “This building has never been replaced by anything else, not even abandoned for a few weeks after a bombing attack; this place is history .”