The ensign stared back into the screen confidently, ‘I will take my leave now captain, you have just under two further days of travel before you reach us and we will be scanning deep space until we join with your relief effort. We will sustain zero communication until you enter our orbit and then only on differing frequencies. My commander wishes to catch the enemy completely by surprise.’ Raising a fist to her chest abruptly, the intelligence officer’s eyes sparkled, ‘Our time is now commander…we will not fail in our endeavours!’
The junior officers’ boots slammed together, their own fists rising to their chests as captain Dugachard replicated their actions, David’s eyes widening as he stared down at the clenched fist across his own breastplate, the senior officer opposite grinning mischievously at the lieutenant’s obvious surprise to the instinctive response.
Chapter Three: Britain and France
A World in Peril
Normandy, France
Kurt Hausser and Mitch sat back in the folding chairs, raising two bottles of beer in a toast, the middle aged men grinning at each other in relief from either side of the camping table, their wives chattering in the Mercedes camper van, two children shrieking in joy as they played in the field next to the rough car park by the side of a dual carriageway.
Mitch swigged from his bottle, lowering it onto the table top as he cleared his throat, ‘Well…I was dubious at first, but I agree now we should stay here…watch what is happening from a distance.’ He grinned ironically, raising the beer bottle once more in salute, ‘We came to Normandy to see the sights our fathers saw and ran at the earliest sign of an enemy…our ancestors did not have that option, they fought on.’ The American swigged from the bottle, chuckling, ‘You were right…we stay and watch what they do…we are still far safer than our forefathers.’
Kurt nodded, sipping from his own drink, the middle aged men turning their heads to stare northwards towards the lower coast, both drifting into their own silent thoughts as they watched further parachutes drift downwards. Heavy transport aircraft circled at high altitude, Mitch shifting forward and raising a pair of binoculars as they glimpsed the small groupings of white chutes, artillery pieces and heavy ordinance being dropped behind the French special forces personnel. Thin plumes of dark smoke rose into the clouded sky from towns all along the shore, unattended burning cars and buildings left in hamlets, lanes and farms near the deep blue lower English Channel, a dull haze spreading across the horizon.
The road to their right was busy, cars, vans and mobile homes passing in a steady two lane stream, tyres whistling on the tarmac, Kurt turning as the clattering of metal tracks began to resound across the fields, a convoy of armoured personnel carriers passing on the opposite carriageway and heading towards Caen. His body rose from the chair in curiosity as another convoy of three lorries towing several heavy artillery pieces slowed, then turned off the motorway, the cracking of gates and fence posts as they rumbled into the field opposite, turning in a wide arc to the north as the heavy vehicles bounced across the terrain, readying to position their high calibre guns.
Mitch strained his eyes, swigging from the bottle once more, ‘I guess it is going to get very loud in an hour or so…you wanna stay for the night time flashes buddy? It’ll be getting dark soon. It looks like the French are taking no chances…helicopters and hundreds of soldiers…they mean business and probably want to contain them for the night.’ He sniffed, wiping his beer drenched mouth with the back of his hand, then hesitated, grinning, ‘What would you do? Build your defences and gather your forces? Send out patrols and gauge the enemy’s strength? Call down artillery and airstrikes when you identify their positions?’
The German airport manager turned to look at his new friend, smiling grimly as he stared back towards the coast, the light slowly beginning to fade, ‘It seems little has changed in all these years…is that not what our grandfathers’ did? A game of deadly chess in the narrow hedgerows or bocage? It was a slaughter…on both sides.’ Sighing in rising despondency, he shook his head, ‘How many civilians are near the coast…even elderly and young that cannot escape the coming battle…where is the air power? We have seen a few French fighters and helicopters, but what about this enemy, what have they got?’
Mitch shrugged, glancing over towards the lorries in the field opposite, his view broken by passing vehicles, French artillery crews manhandling the long barrelled guns into position, several beginning to dig furiously across the field, beginning to prepare defensive earth walls for their pieces and slit trenches. Lifting his bottle once more, he grimaced nervously, ‘I guess they lost a lot of fighters in the aerial battles over Britain…it may be a bloodbath if the enemy have airpower.’
Both men glanced round as a shrill call came from the motorhome, Mitch’s wife giggling in relief, ‘We have a dinner for you two…this vehicle has everything hidden away…a British minced ‘Shepherd’s Pie’ and roasted vegetables…the potatoes are gorgeously fluffy! Helena is a wonderful cook!’ Mitch chuckled as Kurt grinned with relish, his stomach rumbling as he suddenly realised how hungry he was, the American female continuing in excitement, ‘There is wine too…as well as beer, they had a hidden cooler under the floor!’
Offshore, North East Scotland
Captain James Carmichael stared through binoculars across the rising and crashing surf, glimpsing several distant fishing
