Jackboot Britain: The Alternate History - Hitler's Victory & The Nazi UK! (47 page)

“Papers,” the smaller man glared; a distinctly Jewish looking weasel of a man.

The group paused. None had brought their identification, despite the strict illegality to the Germans of such a move, purely in the event that this happened, in order to plead ignorance. But while they would have been forced to face arrest at the hands of Wehrmacht or – God help them – SS, and more pertinently SD or Gestapo, they certainly couldn’t face having their plans derailed by a pair of Englishmen.

Even two English scum wielding coshes, in the employ of the Germans.

“Papers,” the weasel demanded again, more forcefully.

“Why, do you need a smoke, Jakob?” William sneered.

“Oh, a funny bugger are we?” The rat-like fascist leered at his larger, somewhat more intimidating friend. “This one’s a funny bugger, isn’t ’e.”

“Since when do we have to do what you bastards say?” Alan demanded.

Jack grinned. “Yeah, you aint ever had any say in London, guv’nor. Us three were here when your lot got your heads kicked in up the East End.”

“Yeah,” William joined in, “… and when my Geordie friend here says ‘you bastards’, I should point out that he means
fascists
, not yids.”

They all roared with laughter, despite amusement being the last thing they felt. There were Wehrmacht and SS men stood idly smoking, or alternately, patrolling across the road at the hotel. Things were going badly awry for the group.

“Well,” rat-face began, slowly, enjoying himself. “I don’t know about yids, as it should be obvious neither of us are dirty kikes. You’ll find that things are changing around here… what with the new Viceroy of ’itler being an SS and police general and all. BUF men of a
certain standing
have been asked to deputise as a sort of auxiliary
peace-keeping
security force, until things settle. So with that being said–”

He never finished his sentence. Jack feinted, pretending to crouch before head-butting the fascist would-be copper, his hard skull driving upwards and through the brittle man’s chin with all the weight and force that Jack possessed. He was unconscious before the back of his head hit the ground, blood leaking out of it onto the pavement. Alan immediately leapt in, planting a big left hook on the larger man’s chin, almost spinning him. A second punch that glanced clumsily off his boulder of a head was supplemented by William, who sprang in to stamp down hard on the disorientated fascist’s kneecap, sending him twisting to the ground. Alan kicked, and then stomped the stricken giant’s head for good measure, sending it thudding into the concrete with a horrible shudder of impact.

The whole attack lasted no longer than ten seconds.

They all heard a great shout from across the street in German, and instantly fled into the park. Two SS men with the SD sleeve diamond sprinted across Park Lane, with the shouts of Wehrmacht laughter ringing out behind them.

“Bayswater Road,” Alan shouted, in a great pant. “Get to the Tube.”

The only German they could now hear behind them were guttural, threatening yells.

Fleeing across the grass past the first row of yellowing trees, Mary began to sprint out into the open expanse of grass, westwards into the heart of the park.

“
Mary
!” William yelled in high panic.

Thankfully the cry registered even in flight, and with the nimble feet of a girl whose childhood was spent outdoors, Mary turned on her heel and darted back into the tree-lined route along which they sprinted northwards towards Speaker’s Corner. There was no noise behind them, but from the stares of the park stragglers they passed, all were sure that the chase was still ongoing.

They cut northwest, navigating the northeast park lanes at Cumberland Gate and to their relief, found themselves on the main road which was near-empty, and free of German patrols. Disregarding their safety, they unhesitatingly tore across the lanes without checking for traffic, and having made it across to the cobbled pavements north, they turned east, passing the Marble Arch junction at the northeast corner of the park. The tube station was in sight.

A warning shout in German rang out behind them, guttural and harsh.

“Hurry,” Alan urged, and they sprinted across, bitterly regretting their tobacco habits.

They all rounded the corner and in to the station, slipping on the shiny floor as they cut in from the street, and hurled themselves down the stairs three at a time, William falling at the bottom. There was a train at the platform heading eastwards – three stops to Tottenham Court Road, from whence they could walk – its grimy white side had opened its doors, and confused passengers were staring out.

Jack and Alan reached the train with a final burst of energy, and almost fell through its doors in relief. But Mary stopped at the door, in horror.

“William,” she screamed.

The young Scot had badly twisted his ankle in the fall, and was limping along painfully towards the open doors.

Frantically, Mary ran back to her lover, and dragged him along furiously. The bemused conductor, for whom people running to catch trains was no uncommon sight, had dismissed both the sight of Jack and Alan tearing across the platform, and the spectacle of the young man’s fall, but the shrill Latin scream of Mary had been too much for him. It was too panicked and emotional to be related to the train, which in any case would be followed in ten minutes by another. The old conductor didn’t know
why
she screamed, but his curiosity was tempered as he knew that he didn’t
want
to know.

His whistle blew, and the doors began to close.

~

Heydrich gazed around a room of men who were still stunned by his far-reaching proclamations regarding the further power bestowed on him, this time by Hermann Göring. And none were more amazed than the putative master of the SS himself, in Reichsführer Himmler.

“Gentlemen,” he said gruffly, minimising the nasal qualities of his high voice. “
This
is the directive, and that which the Reichsführer-SS has himself discussed with our Führer and briefly explained to you, is clear – in Germany itself, we will soon began major resettlement operations, and at present, here in England and the British Isles… which are to be cleared of undesirable elements in order to procure peace in a German Europe, and for the British Empire to become our allies and partners in the great racial struggle of our people against ideological and racial enemies in the East, and elsewhere.”

His eyes bored into the men seated on either side of the great table. The silence was deafening.

“This is to be achieved by
force
if necessary – it likely will be – and with all the experience our Gestapo and SD have earned within Germany itself, for that to be turned on England in order to set the course for a New European Order in the world.”

The ensuing silence was broken by Eichmann and Müller.

“
Jawohl
, Reichsprotektor!”

All others apart from Himmler and the Austrian followed suit, banging the table in support. The Reichsführer-SS took the liberty of interjecting, anxious to rein Heydrich in and assert his own supreme SS authority.

“Very well said, Herr Obergruppenführer. As to the removal of those threats, you have all done a fine job thus far, a
fine job
thus far. Herr Schellenberg has provided exceptionally clear details in the books that show how to appropriately deal with
all manner
of issues pertaining to gaining control over Great Britain. They are quite thorough and include lists of prominent Jews and freemasons, all masonic lodges and those within the nobility who are involved in that criminal organisation, as well as fugitives from Germany…”

Heydrich himself interjected, as the little speech of Himmler’s paused momentarily.

“
Indeed
, Reichsführer, perhaps the finest work of the SD thus far; it will provide all necessary and relevant information. Masonic lodges to be crushed as and where they crop up in their new form, this dangerous Hydra. Like Vishnu, one hundred arms and limbs to this beast. I want them smashed,
defiled
,
ransacked
and their members hauled in for Gestapo questioning and subsequent execution, regardless of rank!” Heydrich’s voice rose to a high-pitched cry of excitement, and he rose to his feet, aware of his voice, and quickly composing himself. “They will be hung publicly, with piano wire like
cattle
, as something of a deterrent and a just punishment.”

Heydrich gazed at them each in turn.

“And with the meeting that myself, the Reichsführer and Herr Göring are to have tomorrow, it is
paramount
that each
Einsatzgruppe
speeds up the departure of many enemies of National Socialism that we would first like to acquaint with Gestapo hospitality, or SS bullets.”

Again, the Einsatzgruppe commanders nodded their assent. Heydrich paced, calmly.

“Moving on; beyond freemasons and prominent Jews – the two are often the same – we have listed the believed whereabouts of influential financiers, and while I doubt we’ll find Mayor Rothschild or his close family on this side of the world, it should be expressed to the men of our action groups – as in Poland – any key figures who have or had any control over economy or string-pulling on Downing Street must be captured and hung from meat-hooks as a matter of the most urgent priority of Germany.”

Himmler nodded gravely from his seat.

“Absolute top priority, yes… absolute top priority… prominent Jews and communist party members, freemasons and influential financiers.”

“There are also subversive writers and so-called scientists, political thinkers and others of some prominence; Jew and human alike…”

Heydrich’s voice trailed, and some sycophantic laughter pealed out from his obedient acolytes.

“… and while unfortunately Sigmund Freud is no longer in the land of the living, many more remain here who it could be said, should not be. I should like to add that, if Eric Blair, better known as
George Orwell
, or Aldous Huxley be discovered in England, that they be held free of special interrogation. I would like to deal with them myself.”

He turned to Dr Six. “No sign, I assume?”

The
Einsatzgruppen Britain
commander shook his bald head gravely.

“There is no word or sign of either Orwell or Huxley, Herr Reichsprotektor.”

Himmler’s adjutant, Waffen-SS captain Joachim Peiper enquired of Heydrich; “Are there any new additions to the list, Herr Obergruppenführer, or Herr Schellenberg?”

“No, on the contrary the list was significantly shortened at the highest levels of government,” Heydrich quickly answered, lowering himself back into his seat. “Some key ministers smoothened the process of the move towards a new order, and the overthrow of the old. Thus, I spared them.”

Himmler interjected; quite unnecessarily, Schellenberg thought.

“Captain Peiper here will liaise between myself and the Obergruppenführer, and through him I will keep abreast of your actions, gentlemen, for my reports to the Führer. As Reichsführer-SS
I
am here on the Führer’s orders to ensure these visions of Saxon order come to fruition. Reich Security Chief Heydrich is tasked with accomplishing the racial and political cleansing of undesirable elements, and it is vital that such work is successful.”

Himmler looked extremely satisfied as he concluded his pronouncement. Heydrich exchanged a quick glance with his Gestapo chief Heinrich Müller, knowing the Bavarian would be struggling to contain his derision, before resuming the lead.

“At Prinz-Albrecht Strasse I along with Gestapo Müller here, laid out the foundations of this operation. Now, it must be escalated, in each sector. There is a meeting arranged later this week, based on the Reichsmarschall’s directive to combine the efforts of all necessary executive agencies of the Party and State to consolidate SS power over matters of the Jewish Question, social cleansing and occupational policy; fittingly the conference will be held at Downing Street. Several of you will be in attendance; a strong SS presence will help show our friends in the Party bureaucracy the direction from which power emanates.”

“Here, here,” Müller said approvingly in his coarse rasp, banging his fist on the table, to which the others followed suit.

“Herr General,” Dr Six began in a clipped, slightly reedy voice, “what levels of continued partisan action do you personally expect from Great Britain as a whole, given that resistance thus far has been less than anticipated…”

But Heydrich brushed him aside.

“On the contrary, Six; England’s system of resistance was far more sophisticated and planned out than had been expected, up until the reports stemming from SD infiltration of the organised resistance in late spring. The Reich would have encountered many more serious and severe difficulties in England had our agentur not come through. Our favourite freemason and agentur of international
Jewry,
Winston
Churchill
is somewhat cunning, for an obnoxious old drunk.”

The men laughed, even Himmler, the grim Gestapo pair, and the brutal Austrian SS and Police Leader.

“Do elaborate, my dear Herr Heydrich,” Himmler asked.

“Certainly Reichsführer; auxiliary partisan units were arranged across villages and towns the length and breadth of South and SouthEast England; churches with cellars were fitted with radio equipment with which to communicate with other villages and the underground in London, Leeds, Birmingham, Manchester and Edinburgh…”

Heydrich rose from his seat, and began pacing. The Führer’s gaze bore down on his back, from the painting behind him. Schellenberg wondered if it was intended.
Probably
, he decided.

“… Villages in the south, and the larger towns and cities such as Portsmouth, Brighton, Southampton and Exeter, were equipped with radios and caches of weapons and ammunition, smaller villages had trained weapons and intelligence experts planted amongst the villagers to observe and report German troops movements, convey numbers and armour, identify any high ranking officers, et cetera…”

Peiper whistled. “More than we can say for France and the rest.”