'He told them also that once they are fully committed beyond the canal, against us, so that they can't easily disengage, then the whole of the French Seventh Army will attack northwards across the Somme in the south, spearheaded by the Fourth Armoured Division, across their lines of communication.
And at the same time the British will launch another attack southwards from the Arras area—a bigger one than they launched yesterday, which was merely designed to draw the German armour away from the Somme. Right?'
Right? Bastable no longer knew which was right and which was wrong.
The code name for this operation is 'Dynamo'. The British originally wanted to call it 'Waterloo', but the French objected to that on historical grounds.'
'And I don't blame them,' murmured the Brigadier. 'Do you know your history, Willis?'
Bastable closed his mouth, which had fallen open.
'No? Well, the Waterloo campaign began the same way for the Allies. Napoleon humbugged them at Ligny and Quatre dummy4
Bras, just as Hitler humbugged us on the Dyle and the Meuse. But then Wellington held Napoleon at Waterloo, and the Prussians came from the flank and finished the job. And that was the end of the war.
'Until now the Hun has found it easy to advance. But that's because we've made it easy for them—because we want them to commit their armour over the Aa Canal, in the waterways there—with the rest of their army strung all the way back to the frontier. It's a trap, Willis.' The Brigadier paused. 'Do you understand?'
Harry Bastable didn't understand. He felt the weight of the Brigadier's pistol in his hand—and in his chest the greater weight of the black treachery he had been listening to.
But why were they telling him all this?
The pistol lifted to point mid-way between the Brigadier and Freddie.
'That's what the Brigadier has told the Germans,' said Freddie.
Bastable steadied the pistol.
'And there isn't a word of truth in it,' said the Brigadier.
Freddie looked sideways at the Brigadier. 'Actually there is a word or two. The Guards are in Boulogne—and the Rifles are landing in Calais today. And they'll fight there too.'
'And they'll die there, too,' said the Brigadier.
'And we did counter-attack at Arras yesterday,' said Freddie.
'But there aren't any anti-tank guns behind the Aa Canal. Or dummy4
any tanks—or any fresh divisions. At this moment there isn't a corporal's guard to stop the Germans between Calais and Dunkirk.'
'And there isn't going to be any great French counterattack across the Somme. Because there isn't any great French army to attack with—the French are finished. The Germans could be in Paris within a week,' said the Brigadier.
'And in Ostend by this weekend—which is what matters to us,' said Freddie. 'Because then the BEF will be finished—
they'll be surrounded.'
'And then we shall have lost the war,' said the Brigadier.
'No!' Bastable found his tongue. 'I don't believe it!'
'Neither do the Germans— that's the whole point, man,' said Freddie.' That's what the Brigadier and I have been doing—
trying to feed them lies to keep them from realizing it. If we can just delay them for a few days—if Gort can pull the BEF
back to form some sort of line protecting Dunkirk and Ostend . . . Then maybe the Navy can save some of them. At least if we've got our backs to the sea, we've got a chance.
Because that's what "Dynamo" is about—the real Dynamo, Willis.'
'Dynamo?'
'The evacuation of the British Army from France. We need four days to start it—and at the moment we've only got two before the Germans reach Dunkirk—three at the outside. But as we can't stop them we've got to make them stop of their dummy4
own accord.'
The Brigadier grunted. 'For sound military reasons.'
Bastable grappled With the sound military reasons, but they were too big for him. The French are finished... if Gort can pull back the BEF . . . we need four days . . .
'And we've given them some sound military reasons, by God!'
said the Brigadier. 'They've got plenty of their own, but we've given them a better one—we've warned them of a trap which doesn't exist.'
'But—' Bastable felt the sweat on his forehead.
'But why should they believe us?' Freddie's lip twisted as he looked at the Brigadier. 'Because we've been supplying them with sound military information since Czechoslovakia was occupied last year—the Brigadier and I, Willis. We've been working for them for over a year—so they think.'
'What?'
'Since they broke the Munich agreement,' said the Brigadier.
'Before that . . .'
'Before that Brigadier Carter was just a genuine practising Fascist,' said Freddie.
'No. Not practising—that's not permitted for a serving officer.' The Brigadier eyed Freddie balefully. 'Just convinced.'
'He didn't like Jews and Communists,' amended Freddie.
'And he made no secret of it.'
dummy4
'Still don't. Too many Jew-boys and Reds in high places.' The Brigadier held himself stiffly. 'But that doesn't mean that I'll betray my country to the first Hun who approaches me.'
Freddie half-smiled. 'A reasonable mistake on their part. But a mistake, nevertheless ... Because then he came to us. And now he's fighting for the Jews and the Communists instead.'
'That I'm certainly not!' snapped the Brigadier.
'Well, maybe not, sir. But you joined us—and I joined you, anyway.'
'To keep an eye on me, eh?' The bushy eyebrow on the left lifted sardonically. 'In case I was one of your "doubles"?'
'If you say so, sir. Perhaps at first.'
The Brigadier scowled at Bastable. 'They never trust anyone absolutely, his people, it's their occupational disease. And neither do the Huns, for much the same reasons, only more so. Which is where you came in, my lad!'
'Where? I beg your pardon—?'
'You may even have saved the day at that, in fact.'
Bastable stared at the Brigadier in astonishment. 'What?'
'I told you—they never trust anyone. And Obergruppenführer Keller is no exception to the rule; he simply couldn't quite bring himself to believe that we were offering him authentic information. Which is hardly to be wondered at, with their front-line commanders wanting to go hell-for-leather up the coast, and telling them there's nothing in their way ... whereas we simply couldn't give him enough dummy4
corroborating facts to back our version. Because we're not running the show, Willis. We're just mixing what little truth we've got in with a lot of damned lies.'
'The Arras attack has shaken 'em up, I think,' cut in Freddie.
'And Boulogne will help.'
'And Calais too—the Rifles'll die hard—' The Brigadier nodded and flinched. 'But there isn't enough—or there wasn't enough until you descended out of nowhere, Willis, like the wrath of God—shouting "Traitor" at the top of your voice—
and shot me!'
'And were shot in your turn, too!' supplemented Freddie.
The Brigadier just managed to stop himself nodding.
'That's right. Positively heroic ... I suppose it would have been even better if you'd actually killed me ... But you did the next best thing, Captain: you did your incompetent best, by God!'
Bastable licked his lips and looked from one to the other.
'Don't look so unhappy, my dear fellow,' said the Brigadier.
'Don't you see— you shot me as a traitor. And that does rather suggest that I am a traitor—someone worth killing.
And someone worth dying for, too, by God! And that's about the strongest corroboration you can give to a man's story, to my way of thinking.'
Freddie nodded agreement. 'Keller was certainly a lot more friendly after that.'
'And so he damn well should be!' snapped the Brigadier. 'He dummy4