of Labour. Clearly, Lloyd thought, Churchill intended to have a genuine cross-party government.
Lloyd packed his case ready to catch the train back to Aberowen. Once there, he expected to be quickly redeployed, probably to France. But he only needed an hour or two. He was desperate to learn the explanation of Daisy’s behaviour last Tuesday. Knowing he was going to see her soon increased his impatience to understand.
Meanwhile, the German army rolled across Holland and Belgium, overcoming spirited opposition with a speed that shocked Lloyd. On Sunday evening Billy spoke on the phone to a contact in the War Office, and afterwards he and Lloyd borrowed an old school atlas from the boarding-house proprietress and studied the map of north-west Europe.
Billy’s forefinger drew an east–west line from Dusseldorf through Brussels to Lille. ‘The Germans are thrusting at the softest part of the French defences, the northern section of the border with Belgium.’ His finger moved down the page. ‘Southern Belgium is bordered by the Ardennes Forest, a huge strip of hilly, wooded terrain virtually impassable to modern motorized armies. So my friend in the War Office says.’ His finger moved on. ‘Yet farther south, the French– German border is defended by a series of heavy fortifications called the Maginot Line, stretching all the way to Switzerland.’ His finger returned up the page. ‘But there are no fortifications between Belgium and northern France.’
Lloyd was puzzled. ‘Did no one think of this until now?’
‘Of course we did. And we have a strategy to deal with it.’ Billy lowered his voice. ‘Called Plan D. It can’t be a secret any more, since we’re already implementing it. The best part of the French army, plus all of the British Expeditionary Force already over there, are pouring across the border into Belgium. They will form a solid line of defence at the Dyle River. That will stop the German advance.’
Lloyd was not much reassured. ‘So we’re committing half our forces to Plan D?’
‘We need to make sure it works.’
‘It better.’
They were interrupted by the proprietress, who brought Lloyd a telegram.
It had to be from the army. He had given Colonel Ellis-Jones this address before going on leave. He was surprised he had not heard sooner. He ripped open the envelope. The cable said:
DO NOT RETURN ABEROWEN STOP REPORT SOUTHAMPTON DOCKS IMMEDIATELY STOP A BIENTOT SIGNED ELLISJONES
He was not going back to Ty Gwyn. Southampton was one of Britain’s largest ports, a common embarkation point for the Continent, and it was located just a few miles along the coast from Bournemouth, an hour perhaps by train or bus.
Lloyd would not be seeing Daisy tomorrow, he realized with an ache in his heart. Perhaps he might never learn what she had wanted to tell him.
Colonel Ellis-Jones’s
Lloyd was going to France.
7
1940 (II)
Erik von Ulrich spent the first three days of the Battle of France in a traffic jam.
Erik and his friend Hermann Braun were part of a medical unit attached to the 2nd Panzer Division. They saw no action as they passed through southern Belgium, just mile after mile of hills and trees. They were in the Ardennes Forest, they reckoned. They travelled on narrow roads, many not even paved, and a broken-down tank could cause a fifty-mile tailback in no time. They were stationary, stuck in queues, more than they were moving.
Hermann’s freckled face was set in a grimace of anxiety, and he muttered to Erik in an undertone no one else could hear: ‘This is stupid!’
‘You should know better than to say that – you were in the Hitler Youth,’ said Erik quietly. ‘Have faith in the Fuhrer.’ But he was not angry enough to denounce his friend.
When they did move it was painfully uncomfortable. They sat on the hard wooden floor of an army truck as it bounced over tree roots and swerved around potholes. Erik longed for battle just so that he could get out of the damn truck.
Hermann said more loudly: ‘What are we doing here?’
Their boss, Dr Rainer Weiss, was sitting on a real seat beside the driver. ‘We are following the orders of the Fuhrer, which are of course always correct.’ He said it straight-faced, but Erik felt sure he was being sarcastic. Major Weiss, a thin man with black hair and spectacles, often spoke cynically about the government and the military, but always in this enigmatic way, so that nothing could be proved against him. Anyway, the army could not afford to get rid of a good doctor at this point.
There were two other medical orderlies in the truck, both older than Erik and Hermann. One of them, Christof, had a better answer to Hermann’s question. ‘Perhaps the French aren’t expecting us to attack here, because the terrain is so difficult.’
His friend Manfred said: ‘We will have the advantage of surprise, and will encounter light defences.’
Weiss said sarcastically: ‘Thanks for that lesson in tactics, you two – most enlightening.’ But he did not say they were wrong.
Despite all that had happened there were still people who lacked faith in the Fuhrer, to Erik’s amazement. His own family continued to close their eyes to the triumphs of the Nazis.
