Nottingham, Occupied Britain
Ronald Byng's music faded away to be replaced by the clipped English accent of the announcer. “And as we go 'Sailing By' the BBC in exile completes tonight's broadcast from Quebec. But, before we close down, some messages for our friends in the occupied territories.
Summer is a season for colds. Summer is a season for colds.
John has gone for a walk,. John has gone for a walk.
Xavier needs a present. Xavier needs a present.
Alice has a new cat. Alice has a new cat.
The clock strikes seven. The clock strikes seven.
The dog has puppies. The dog has puppies.
David Newton tilted his chair back on its rear legs. His radio operator was taking down any messages that applied to his cell or its sub-cells. The British Resistance was organized on triangular lines; each cell had a leader and three members, each of whom was the leader of a cell of his or her own. Newton had no idea who the members of his people's sub-cells were and his cell members didn't know who was part of Newton's higher-level cell. The whole operation was coordinated by the radio messages they were listening to. Newton took quiet pride in the fact that the British Resistance was the most feared and effective in Europe. It hadn't always been that way; a few years earlier Newton had been a university student fed up with the Germans throwing their weight around. The bungling, amateurish American OSS hadn't helped much. Then when President Zhukov had taken over in Russia, he'd sent some Russian “operators” over to help the Americans get their act together. The combination of Russian political conspiratorial ism, American management expertise and British bloody-mindedness had proved to have synergies undreamed of by the planners.
Things were different now. A year earlier Newton's cell had taken part in an ambush. The radio messages had steered him to a codebook and an instruction drop. That gave him his instructions and the locations of the weapons. That cache had contained some of the new RPG-2s - another example of co-operation. The Germans had designed a good, but over complex and over-expensive, anti-tank weapon called the panzerfaust. Its great virtue was it was small enough to be carried and operated by one man yet could kill a tank. The Russians had captured it and re-engineered the design with the large number of small parts replaced by a small number of large ones. That had been the RPG-1. When the Americans had sent their army to Russia, they'd seen the RPG-1 and liked it. So they'd redesigned it for real mass production as the RPG-2. Now everybody had them. Thousands were in UK and had become the symbol of resistance. Along with the American submachine gun everybody called the greasegun of course.
Anyway, Newton's group had picked up the RPGs and gone to the designated spot and time. Sure enough, a convoy had arrived, two small trucks, a black luxury car, an armored car and another truck. Newton's orders were to hit the car. He still remembered the thrill of seeing “RAB” Butler in the limousine and watching his rocket smash into the car right beside the traitor's head There had been five separate cells in that ambush and to this day Newton had no idea who they were. They'd come by different routes. Left by different routes and the only signs left were the dead escort and one dead British traitor.
If only Halifax had been in that car as well, Newton thought. He still bitterly remembered the coup on the 18th of June 1940. The day before, RAB Butler had visited Bjom Prytz, the Swedish Minister in London with a message to be transmitted to Germany. That message promised that any reasonable terms extended by the Germans to the UK would be accepted and that no diehards would be allowed to stand in the way. By midnight, a reply, offering “reasonable terms” was received.
On the 18th, a cabinet meeting to deal with a mass of routine administration was due. Churchill, ever impatient with administrivia was in Windsor, preparing a speech and wouldn't be back until the meetings end. Halifax and Butler had presented the German terms to the rump Cabinet meeting they'd stacked with their supporters and gained a vote in favor of the armistice. The instruction went out to put Churchill into 'protective custody'. Fortunately for the PM, Alexander Cadogan, Head of the Foreign Office got a warning out in time and Churchill had escaped. First to Portsmouth then out on a small aircraft to Ireland. From there, he'd been picked up by an American submarine and taken to Canada, the first of a long line of escapees to follow that route.
The German terms had been reasonable all right. An armistice and ceasefire, an agreement for peaceful co-existence and non-belligerency, the Royal Navy to be restricted to port, the Army to be returned to a peacetime establishment and the RAF restricted to defensive fighters only. The Empire was to be bound by the same terms.
When the treaty Halifax had signed arrived in Australia a few days later, Prime Minister Locock had read it aloud in the Australian Parliament, then ostentatiously torn the document in half. His unusual approach to international communications had caused mild diplomatic confusion at the time. His lead had been followed by the rest of the Empire but that hadn't helped the UK. Being kicked out of the Empire and with the troops stationed abroad joining the Colonial forces, the British government had lost what few bargaining cards it had left. Non-belligerency had become collaboration, eventually peaceful co-existence had become military occupation. Military occupation had been followed by guerilla warfare. Eventually, the Royal Navy had broken out and found its way to Canada. The British Resistance had got its start, helping scientists escape to the US. Newton's first mission had been to use his group to assist a scientist called Whittle on his way out of the country.
“'Jennifer wants a Turkey. Jennifer wants a Turkey.”
Newton leapt forward to pay attention. Jennifer, that meant the message was for his group. It was the alert, warning his group to be ready to help shot-down allied air-crews escape capture. Chickens were carrier pilots, Ducks were the special force teams who landed sometimes. But turkeys were heavy bombers. Newton had never heard that codeword used before. The Germans had claimed the American B-29 bombers had been driven from the skies by their fighters. It could be so, Newton had never heard of any such bomber raids in Europe. And what he knew of the B-29, it couldn't get anywhere significant in Europe. Just didn't have the range. So what the.. Never mind.
“OK We're on.” Get to your cells give them a heads up and tell them we might have customers. Sally, start listening to everything that's said.” Sally was the one woman member of his cell, a prostitute whose work took her into intimate proximity to many of the German garrison troops. They talked and everything she heard went back to the resistance. It was desperately dangerous work, not least because most of the population saw her as a “jerrybag”, a fit subject for some brutal retaliation. Some had tried, once a couple of men had wanted to end her commercial career with a broken bottle. Fortunately, she'd been meeting another member of the cell and he'd scared them off, pretending to be her pimp.
Sally had reported the attack; she'd had to in order to keep her cover going. The men had been caught and the German had hanged them in the street. From a streetlight, using piano wire and a fixed noose. The Resistance could have warned them or helped them escape but Sally's work was more important than they were. After a due delay, an instruction had come down from high up telling the population that collaborators were not to be attacked or molested; the Resistance would see they would get what was coming to them when the time was right. If Newton had anything to do with it, what Sally had coming was a George Cross. This time, her warnings that sweeps or kettles were about to take place, could make the difference between success and failure.