Dennis Wheatley: Black August

'At home we are faced with the tragic figures of the unemployed, while in our Dominions and dependencies there are stored enough fertility and wealth to give abundance to all the Empire's peoples. Emigration in the past has been difficult and expensive: families going out from this country have gone alone to face hardships and, in the remote parts, possible danger.

'In the early days of this crisis I used my personal influence to dispatch a number of Royal Air Force machines to various destinations, and in them sent trusted friends who knew my purpose to act as my ambassadors.

'The response to my appeal by our kindred overseas has been magnificent beyond words, and a unique example of their love for the Mother Country.

'They have agreed to open their vast territories to us, and vast tracts of fertile land, at present difficult of access, are to be brought into cultivation in many portions of the globe.

'New towns and cities are to be built which will offer employment in every type of industry. Free passage will be given to all who are willing to emigrate and accommodation on arrival in these new State owned towns at moderate rentals deducted from subsidised wages, leaving a margin sufficient to ensure a decent standard of living.

'Emigrants will be asked to sign on for three, five or seven years, and during that period they will be guaranteed a minimum wage according to their employment; special allowances in addition will be paid for wives, children and dependents. Full particulars of this great emigration scheme will be published and broadcast throughout the country.

I ask then for five million volunteers; men and women who have the courage to go upon this great adventure, and lighten the burden which is upon us at home.

'I appeal especially to the unemployed. For years now many of them have lead a tragic and humiliating existence. If they remain here their lot cannot be bettered, at least for many years to come. If they go forth in the spirit of their ancestors a useful self respecting life, in which they may once more hold up their heads, awaits them.

'I want five million volunteers, and if they will come forward they may count themselves the saviours of the country.

'And now I would urge upon every one of you, whatever your age or circumstance may be, the absolute necessity in this great crisis, the worst of which is now happily over, to stand firm in the cause of law and order. Not to do so is to betray your own family and friends to a renewed, and perhaps final, anarchy. It is therefore the duty of every freeborn man and woman in this country to obey fully and loyally such decrees as shall be issued for the protection of the State upon my Sovereign authority. God bless you all.'

There was a brief pause and then the announcer's voice came again:

'This proclamation was issued from Windsor at four o'clock this afternoon under the signature of the Prince Regent.'

'By jove, he's done it!' exclaimed Kenyon, 'and he's the only man in the kingdom who could have pulled if off.'

Silas nodded as he switched off the loud speaker: 'Five million volunteers, eh? d'you think he'll get them?'

'Why not?' Veronica laughed a little hysterically; 'they got five million volunteers to offer themselves for a killing before conscription was brought in during the Great War, and this applies to women too. He'll get them easily once it becomes the patriotic thing to do!'

'It's amazing that your Colonies should agree to this scheme, though,' Silas hazarded.

'They'll benefit too.' Kenyon began to pace up and down: 'Look at Australia, a vast continent with a population something less than that of London. They could lose a couple of million people there! Take some absorbing perhaps, but with new towns being built and Government organisation it could be done. Redistribution of population, eh? and a new bond to knit the Empire together. By God! he's cutting at the root of the trouble!'

'I wonder how many people heard the broadcast?' said Ann suddenly.

An immediate soberness descended on them all and Rudd lurched over to the window; 'Not many,' he said tersely, 'can't 'ave bin.'

'No,' Silas added, 'it was pure chance that I happened to switch it on, the damn thing's been out of action for a month, there won't be one in ten thousand listening in tonight.'

'But they can't shoot us after this!' Veronica clutched him by the arm, 'they can't!'

'They may. Ipswich is Communist still and will be perhaps until the morning.'

'It's twenty five pars' six by that there clock,' announced Rudd.

'Good God! only thirty five minutes to go.' Kenyon ran to the door and hammered on it. 'If we tell the guard what's happened he may pass on the news.'

'He won't believe you, darling,' Ann shook her head miserably.

The sentry opened the door and in a quick spate of words Kenyon poured out the news from London.

'You can tell that yarn to the marines,' said the fellow morosely, and slammed it shut again.

'What about breaking out?' cried Veronica?

'We'd all be shot, sweet, just as surely as we would have been an hour ago,' Silas told her.

'But we can't let them murder us now!'

'We'll put up a fight when they come for us,' he assured her with a quick glance at the window; 'but I only wish someone would start a riot here. Other folks besides us must have heard that radio somewhere in this town.'

'Then they'll have to make it snappy, sir,' Rudd threw over his shoulder, 'it's twenty ter seven now!'

"This is intolerable,' exclaimed Kenyon; 'to think our side is on top again yet we're to be killed off in twenty minutes' time; it's fantastic!'

'I know!' Ann's face brightened, 'let's ask to be taken before the Magistrate again.'

'That's it that's it.' Kenyon began to bang loudly on the door.

The sentry opened it a foot and thrust an angry face in; 'What the 'ell is it now?'

'We want to be taken back to the Magistrate,' Kenyon begged.

'Aw, shut up, can't you. He's busy and you've had your turn. Be quiet now!' The man jerked the door shut again with a bang.

Rudd's face was glued to the window. Orderlies on horseback and bicycles continued to arrive at the Town Hall; a little group of the new Red soldiery sat on the steps, their rifles handy, but laughing and joking over a game of cards in the late afternoon sunshine.

The gross bulky man who had made the third member of the Tribunal came hurrying out of the building; he looked furtively to right and left, then set off at a quick pace up the street. Rudd glanced at the clock again. 'It's a quarter to seven,' he said anxiously. 'We'll be for it unless someone does something pretty quick,'

As he spoke a small body of Greyshirts came round the corner, the leader held a long white paper in his hand. At their appearance the guards on the Town Hall steps grabbed their rifles and scrambled to their feet. Rudd threw up the window and leaned out, his head pressed against the barbed wire mesh.

'Silence!' cried the leader of the Greyshirts. 'If you shoot us it will be murder. I am about to read a proclamation by the Government in London.'

'Thank God!' Kenyon breathed, 'it's the message on the wireless.'

The Greyshirt held up his paper and began to read in a loud voice. The armed men on the steps shuffled uncomfortably; in some mysterious fashion news of the development had spread. A crowd of people surged out from the Town Hall, and the Square, which had been almost empty a few moments before, began to fill like magic. From every side street figures ran to block the wide open space.

'Hell!' exclaimed Veronica.

'What is it?' whispered Ann.

'That filthy woman who was on the bench.'

Then they all saw her; tall, haggard, wisps of grey hair blowing about her face, she forced her way towards the troops of the local Soviet. As they watched she issued a swift order; two men shook their heads and backed away, but the rest obediently raised their rifles., The reader of the Proclamation hesitated, faltered, stopped. For a second an unearthly silence filled the square, then the woman's voice came fierce and shrill.