“That’s all we’ve got at the moment other than what you all already know — a more detailed report will be provided once we’ve had time to disseminate more information.” He nodded toward the mess entrance where a lone guard waited patiently. “Right now however, I believe the rest of the enlisted men of Lyness are waiting to come in and have a few drinks, and the mess staff have been kind enough to invite all of us — officers included — to stay with them and spend an hour or two trying to take our minds off what’s been going on elsewhere, if that’s at all possible. I, for one, think it’s an excellent idea.” He turned his attention toward the man at the door. “Seaman: would you be so kind as to allow the rest of your fellows in… we’re finished here.”
HQ Army Group A
Dover Castle, Kent
Standing atop the heights that towered over East Cliff and Marine Parade, Dover Castle rose above the city to the east of its centre, keeping watch over The Channel and Dover’s eastern docks. A Norman fortification constructed during the 12th century, Dover castle stood on the site of an earlier stronghold that had been set to the torch during the invasion of 1066, only to be rebuilt by William the Conqueror himself following its surrender. The existing structure however had begun to take shape under Henry II, and had been improved several times over the intervening years, particularly during the reign of Henry VIII. This was followed by another huge reconstruction and rebuilding program at the time of the Napoleonic Wars, at which time a complex series of tunnels were dug beneath the castle and cliff tops to provide room for a two-thousand man garrison. After the cessation of hostilities, the tunnels were used against smugglers for a short period by the Coastal Blockade Service, the network then falling into disrepair and left abandoned for over a century.
The outbreak of the Second World War changed all of that, with the tunnels being reopened and refurbished, initially for use as air raid shelters, and then converted soon after into a field hospital and a military command centre. There were five levels to the tunnel system, and each had been given a codename beginning with letters running in sequence from ‘A’ to ‘E’: Annexe, Bastion, Casemate, DUMPY and Esplanade (‘DUMPY’ was taken from an acronym that translated into ‘Deep Underground Military Position Yellow’).
SS Fliegertruppen had been landed directly onto the castle grounds by helicopter during the initial phases of the invasion, and with complete surprise on their side, they’d made short work of rounding up the British HQ and the small garrison of troops within. Their work had been made substantially easier by detailed, accurate plans of the entire tunnel complex, provided by Reichsmarschall Reuters himself. Most assumed the information had been acquired through spies of fifth columnist traitors, although that was of no interest to the troopers themselves: they were content with taking the installation with negligible losses on either side, and had no interest in asking academic questions for which there was no likelihood of an honest answer.
Generalfeldmarschall Gerd Von Rundstedt had moved his staff into those same tunnels by the evening of that first day. The castle’s capture had been completed so efficiently and quickly that there’d been no time for the incumbent British troops to do much by way of sabotage to the facilities, and as such, the place now seemed a perfect choice for Army Group A’s forward HQ. Generalleutnant Albert Schiller’s helicopter had landed in the castle grounds just before sunset, and he’d disembarked escorted by a trio of armed guards. Kurt Reuters was still recovering in the field hospital at Amiens but remained in constant contact, and it was an indication of the confidence Reuters displayed in his aide that he’d sent the man as his personal proxy at the front line. It was under those circumstances that Albert Schiller found himself walking upon English soil as part of the first successful conquering force since William, at the Battle of Hastings in 1066AD.
The ‘Casemate’ network had been the original barracks tunnel system built during the Napoleonic Wars, and opened out onto a narrow but quite wide balcony perhaps two-thirds of the way up the cliffs, below the castle itself. With no easy access to the cliff tops or the ground below, there was little need for guards, but a pair of privates attached to the observation corps stood duty there anyway, more as a cursory attempt to keep an eye on the sea traffic pouring into the port below than any real attempt at keeping lookout for enemy activity that was never likely to eventuate. They went about their duties in the same spirit with which they’d been assigned, and had secured some chairs from somewhere inside so the pair could sit, talk and smoke as they waited out their time on watch.
Standing a few metres away at the iron railings of that same balcony, Albert Schiller had made his way down through the tunnel complex in search of somewhere out in the open that was relatively private, where he and his entourage of escorts could have a quiet cigarette. Of course, there was no need to go outside for a smoke, but the activity’s indoor prohibition was so heavily ingrained in Schiller’s psyche after so many Realtime years in a non-smoking environment, that he’d found that he couldn’t comfortably enjoy a cigarette unless he was out in the open air. The irony of that fact wasn’t lost on him, particularly when one considered he’d actually only developed the habit since his arrival in the thirties, but the conditioning of his youth died hard, and in any case he also found being outdoors far more conducive to deeper thought… far more so than smoking indoors.
Schiller sighed deeply as he took a long drag on the cigarette and blew the smoke back out into the chilly air a moment later, the whole time standing silent as he stared out over The Channel and the brightly lit docks below. From that balcony, one could look out over the entire Port of Dover and take in the constant and frenetic activity below as dozens of transports and supply ships were being simultaneously unloaded all around, with still more standing off outside the breakwater, waiting for clearance to come in as soon as a free berth became available. Schiller was normally a friendly and talkative man when taking a break, but the men had been assigned to him long enough to read the signs and recognise that he was troubled by something, and all three knew him well enough to understand that at such times, the generalleutnant was best left to his own devices.
Schiller knew he should be filled with feelings of satisfaction, optimism or even something as simple as smug confidence… filled with the sort of emotions that naturally followed the resounding success of such an important operation. Taking into account the years of planning he and Kurt and all the others had put in, both before and after their return to that era, it should’ve been outright elation coursing through him as he stood there in that moment. Instead, the reality was that pleasant sensations of that nature were in fact the furthest things from his mind. Instead, he was feeling almost the exact opposite: sensations of despondency and dread that he couldn’t dispel, that each further notification of continued success served only to increase rather than dissipate.