The Oberleutnant in command of the Panzer III tank felt confident as he led his troop towards Piotrkow. His 1st Panzer Division had punched through a gap between the two main Polish forces, Army Lodz and Army Krakow, and was almost half way to Warsaw. The Poles were fighting furiously but most of their weapons were incapable of harming the massive new battle tanks.
The sound of firing ahead grew in intensity and the commander dropped down into the turret as bullets began ricocheting off the armour. As he did so he spotted the compact shapes of tanks ahead and to one side. He shouted a command to his gunner and felt the turret traverse; the long 5 cm gun muzzle seeking its target. An earsplitting clang signalled a hit by one of the Polish tanks, but a shouted enquiry determined that his crew were unharmed; the shot had failed to penetrate. His own gun barked in reply and he could see through his periscope the Polish tank lurch to a halt, smoke pouring from the hatches. Through the dust another shape emerged. ‘Right, aim right!’ he shouted and the gunner responded.
Half a kilometre away, the crews of the Marder SPGs in a Panzerjäger unit observed the battle with interest, picking out with some difficulty the small Polish tanks from the big Panzers as they manoeuvred in the smoke and dust. Suddenly, the Oberleutnant spotted a column of the Polish 7TPs approaching the battle and gave a quick order. The long barrels of the 7,5 cm guns in the Marders tracked their distant targets. At a range of one kilometre, the Panzerjägers opened fire. Less than one minute later, there were no Polish tanks remaining.
Dunning was grim faced. ‘It was Helmsford,’ he said. ‘He warned the Poles in enough time for them to be able to smuggle a couple of torpedoes and their firing mechanisms, probably dismantled, into the Westerplatte.’
‘Helmsford?’ Don was aghast, ‘surely it could be a leak from the German side?’
Dunning shook his head. ‘It turns out that Helmsford’s wife has Polish relatives. He admitted passing on the warning about the Schleswig-Holstein.’
‘What’s happened to him?’ Don had come to like and admire the dour sailor.
‘Don’t ask, but you won’t be seeing him again.’ Dunning looked tired. ‘Just to be on the safe side, we’ve run a detailed security check on all those with inside knowledge. I think he’s the only weakness.’
‘I didn’t think there were that many. I thought I was the number one top secret.’
‘You are, but the knowledge you brought is too valuable to too many people to keep it entirely under cover. That little computer of yours, for instance. The boffins were absolutely ecstatic once they found out how to use it. The Royal Aircraft Establishment has been using it to speed airframe and engine design work – it’s like magic after relying on log tables and slide rules. Now the intelligence people have sorted out code-breaking programmes which will speed up cryptanalysis no end. Even your little pocket calculator is being pressed into use. The boffins have been suffering acute frustration in trying to copy them, but there are too many unknown technologies involved.’
Don shrugged. ‘I’m sorry I can’t help there, but electronics was a closed book to me. Apart from the general importance of preparing for mass production of radio and radar equipment, the only thing of importance I could remember was the resonant cavity magnetron; I know it was essential to make compact, short-wavelength radars but I’ve no idea how it was designed.’
‘They’re working on it,’ Dunning said absently. ‘Have you heard the latest news from Poland? Despite the sinking of the Schleswig-Holstein, the fighting is going more or less as you predicted. The Poles used the warning they received to mobilise fully but the Germans are of course much better equipped than they were in your time so they’re carving through them just the same.’
Don shuddered, trying not to think of the suffering being inflicted on the Poles, and changed the subject. ‘Do we have any details about the German equipment?’
Dunning opened his briefcase and took out some photographs. ‘I brought these along to show you. They’ve been collated from various sources, both Polish and German.’
Don examined them carefully. It was easy enough to tell the source of the pictures; the German ones showing triumphant soldiers, often in appropriate poses, the Polish ones snatched photos taken in battle or close-ups of wrecked equipment.
‘Apart from their use of the Czech TNHP38 tank, they appear to have standardised on one main tank,’ he noted. Dunning nodded.
‘They call it the Panzerkampfwagen Three. In comparison with the description you gave us, it seems to be bigger and the shape is clearly different, with the glacis plate and turret front being sloped, but they’ve kept the engine at the rear and the front machine-gunner next to the driver.’
‘The guns are obviously bigger as well. That looks like a long-barrelled five centimetre piece.’ He sighed. ‘That makes a mess of my plans. You’d better bring the Mark Two version of the Crusader into production as soon as possible; the Mark One will be outgunned.’
‘Already in hand. The turrets of the Mark Ones will be fitted to the Humber armoured cars and the hulls used for the Comet AA tanks – very frugal! Take a look at these.’
The next series of photographs showed self-propelled field artillery and high velocity anti-tank guns, air defence tanks with quadruple automatic cannon, and armoured personnel carriers.
‘They don’t seem to have too many of these, and have concentrated them into hard-hitting armoured divisions. The Poles have nothing that can stand up to them. The Germans also have other mobile divisions relying on wheeled vehicles which have much greater range and speed and are causing chaos in Polish rear areas.’
Don looked at the photos, feeling depressed. Even the armoured cars looked formidable in the brutally functional way that only German designers seemed able to achieve. Dunning picked out another one.
‘I’m sure you’ll recognise this.’
It showed a dead German soldier, sprawled on his back. Lying across his body was a compact, efficient-looking rifle, obviously automatic, with a long, curved magazine in front of the pistol grip. Don winced.
‘The Sturm Gewehr Fourty-four,’ he sighed, ‘four or five years early. That will cause us problems as well. What about aircraft?’
‘So far, not so very different. The Messerschmitt One-oh-nine is the main fighter and the Junkers Eighty-seven Stuka has been doing most of the tactical support, with the Junkers Eighty-eight very much in evidence too; it seems to have reached service more quickly than in your time. The main variation seems to be the adoption of the Focke-Wulf One-eight-seven instead of the Messerschmitt One-one-oh. Any ideas about that?’
‘Not really. The Messerschmitt wasn’t a particularly outstanding aircraft, as I recall, but it proved very versatile so it stayed in production for a long time. The Focke-Wulf must be something special. I seem to recall that the prototypes were fitted with rather low-powered engines, but I assume they’ve rectified that by now. It looks smaller than the One-one-oh and is probably quite a bit faster. Any sign of heavy bombers?’
‘Not in action, but there are reports of four-engined aircraft being seen near Luftwaffe bases. They seem to be working up towards operational readiness.’
Göring was not pleased. The Polish operation had come before he was ready to launch the new Heinkel bombers into battle, and although the Luftwaffe had acquitted itself well, he felt that an opportunity to demonstrate its invincible power had been missed. On top of that, this freak from the future seemed to be hiding something. If only he could get him to himself for a while at Karinhalle; but Hitler would never permit that. He kept Herrman always within reach, so Göring had had to come to Berlin.
‘You still haven’t explained to anyone how the British failed to declare war in support of the Poles,’ he remarked lazily, ‘this sanctions agreement with France is hardly the same thing, is it?’
Herrman blinked nervously. He could have speculated at some length as to the reasons, but the warning from Himmler was still fresh in his mind. Göring may be powerful, but Himm
ler was to be feared.
‘It may signify nothing. Chamberlain was out on a limb in any case when he gave that guarantee to Poland. It might have taken something very small to deter him.’
‘Ah, yes, your butterfly theory.’ Göring was amused by the notion that an apparently insignificant change could ultimately lead to major consequences. But then, Herrman was not a clear expositor of chaos theory.
Herrman decided to cover his bets. ‘Of course, one possible explanation is that the British have also received information from the future. That could affect their strategy.’
Göring was startled. ‘Is this possible? Do you have any evidence for it?’
‘Any change in predicted British policy might signify either that something we have said or done has had an effect on their thinking, or that they have a source of information of their own. There’s no knowing which is more likely in this case, but I think we should keep our options open.’
He sat, hoping that his perspiration was not evident, that he had given himself a get-out if the facts became known. Göring was not fooled. The man was clearly lying, but why? The truth slowly came to him.
‘You know, don’t you?’ He said softly. ‘They have one of you. He is guiding their thinking just as you are guiding ours.’
Herrman said nothing, but his expression revealed all.
‘Now why should you keep quiet about this? Ah yes, of course, friend Himmler. Doubtless he has had a word in your ear.’
Herrman still said nothing and Göring considered his tactics. ‘On balance, I think Himmler is right to tell you to keep quiet.’ He smiled and Herrman shivered. ‘We shall keep this to ourselves. But I expect a clear briefing from you on what the British can be expected to do next.’
Don looked over the coast from his viewpoint on the South Downs, shivering slightly in the fresh autumn breeze. Mary, Dunning and Taylor stood beside him. An ordinary tourist could be expected to enjoy the sight of the Downs sweeping down to the sea, but this group was looking with other eyes.
‘The combs you can see leading down towards the coastal railway line are essentially dry valleys.’ Taylor was in lecturing mode. ‘As you can see, we are constructing several railway spurs up them. These apparently go nowhere, but in fact are intended to be firing points for railway guns. In fact, when we were investigating possible sites, we were surprised to discover an existing section of track with a large shed at the end, which contained a nine-point-two inch gun from the Great War. Still in perfect working order, and maintained by an old guy whom everyone had forgotten about.’
Don smiled. He recalled hearing this story in his previous existence. Taylor went on.
‘We have a crash programme to produce more railway guns for coast defence purposes. The Navy have passed over all of the seven-point-five inch guns from the four Cavendish class cruisers which they’re converting to light aircraft carriers. We’ve put them into high-elevation mountings which give them considerable range.’ He turned to point to some tiny buildings almost obscured by vegetation. ‘Some of the small blockhouses for machine guns and anti-tank weapons are visible, forming a line along the coast designed to provide interlocking arcs of fire. We’re doing our best to conceal them in various ways. If you look carefully, you can also pick out some horse-shoe shaped mounds not far from the road, over there. They are intended as gun emplacements for field artillery.’
Mary was listening with interest, this tour a rare outing for her. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to have the defensive lines further back? Then you would have more time to put the guns in the right position, once you knew the direction of attack.’
Taylor did not look surprised. All of the regulars at the House had become used to her perceptive questions.
‘We do have another line, much further inland, and some armoured divisions will be held back from the coast. History tells us, however, that the best chance of thwarting a landing from the sea is to hit it as soon as possible, before the invaders have a chance to become organised and established. We hope we can rely on aerial reconnaissance and other means to give us enough warning to get the guns in place. And of course, the Air Force is practising tactical co-operation with the Army and Navy in order to ensure that the enemy are given no peace from the moment they set sail.’
They all looked at the peaceful scene for a while. Don realised that they were all probably thinking the same; trying to imagine this stretch of British countryside covered with black-crossed tanks, a scene of ferocious fighting, Luftwaffe planes dicing with the RAF overhead. They returned to their car in silence.
‘So now we have Poland, and the British and French cower behind their defences, bleating about sanctions!’ Herrman couldn’t decide whether Hitler was angry or triumphant, and decided he was both. Hitler fixed him with his stare. ‘They didn’t guarantee Poland’s safety and left me a clear field to attack. Why were you wrong?’
Herrman stammered the same sort of rationale he had used with Göring, but added, ‘there are now strong indications that they are obtaining guidance from the future in some way.’ He held his breath and waited. Hitler was silent for a moment and Herrman suddenly realised that Stadler had been right to warn him; this had come as no surprise to Hitler, so one of his sources must have informed him already. Then Hitler smiled grimly.
‘So the Gods are restaging the contest? They want us to fight again! What reason could they have, except that they were dissatisfied with the outcome last time? Very well, we will give them a battle that will gladden their hearts.’ He considered for a moment, pacing around the room. ‘The question is: do we start with Norway or with France? The British will be expecting us to attack Norway, and may be better prepared to come to its aid, especially as they won’t have most of their army locked up in France. To attack France first might surprise them.’
Herrman felt emboldened to intervene. ‘Why not ignore France and Norway, and go straight for Russia instead? Then there wouldn’t be the risk of facing a war on two fronts.’
Hitler considered this for a moment. ‘There would still be the risk of being stabbed in the back by the French if we committed our forces in Russia. Besides, I have a score to settle with France. I am very much looking forward to signing their surrender in the same railway carriage they forced us to use after the last war! And with your help, defeating the French will be even quicker and easier than it was in your time. That will show the Generals that I know what I’m doing!’
‘Well then, the British must know about me, or at least that you have someone like me. So they will be aware that we will be trying to outguess them. It is even possible that they have decided to stay out of the war altogether. There was a view held by certain postwar British historians that it was a mistake to get involved. The cost to Britain was appalling, and the Cold War outcome not much better than a Europe dominated by Germany; which will eventually happen anyway, in economic terms at least.’
Hitler considered this as he paced. ‘Given their international obligations, I don’t see how they can avoid coming to France’s assistance. They would lose too much face. But if they intend to defend France, why didn’t they declare war over Poland, which would have given them plenty of time to bring their army across the Channel? It’s possible they may be planning to strike a deal after France’s defeat; I would be generous and it would only cost them a few colonies, plus Edward back on the throne and a sympathetic government. A small price to pay in comparison with what they would lose in the war. They have no ties to Norway, though, and it need not be a causus belli. If I could take Norway first, it would be a clear warning to Britain and would still be useful later on in threatening the supply route to Russia.’
Hitler became more animated as he developed his thesis. ‘Raeder has been arguing the case for securing bases in Norway anyway, if only to keep Britain out – we can’t let them bottle up our ships in the Baltic while denying us the winter route for supplies of Swedish iron ore. We can’t trust Norwegian neutrality; the British would try to stop
the iron ore supplies anyway.’ He stopped pacing as he came to his conclusion. ‘If the British don’t want war they may ignore our move on Norway. If they do, then being tied up in Norway will keep them out of France, making our task there easier.’ He turned suddenly and faced Herrman. ‘What do you think?’
Herrman stood silently for a moment, suddenly struck with the thought that this could be one of the pivotal moments in European history. He had no doubt that Hitler still regarded him with a kind of superstitious awe, and would listen to his views.
‘Britain has been spending large sums on armaments and is clearly preparing to fight if need be. There is no indication that they are building any heavy bombers, though, of the sort they used to attack us. And they have kept their army in their own country. They may be glad of the excuse to avoid becoming entangled in France. We must remember that most of the prewar British government wanted to reach some sort of deal with us rather than go to war. They have been quick to build new battleships and aircraft carriers, but they will be more useful against Japan than us. It is possible that they would like to avoid war.’
Hitler stood in thought for a moment. ‘Very well, then. We will put them to the test. Norway it is – but we will leave the attack until just before we invade France, to give the British no time to deal with both problems!’
CHAPTER 3 - ENGAGEMENT
May 1940
The Wellington maritime reconnaissance aircraft cruised at 10,000 feet over a murky North Sea. The pilot peered through the gloom of early morning, beginning to feel stiff and tired after several hours of patrolling, a daily routine which had lasted for weeks. Behind him, the crew in the converted bomb bay were warming themselves with hot tea, feeling the cold despite their thick clothing. Suddenly, one of the crew leaned forward to look intently at the cathode ray tube in front of him.
THE FORESIGHT WAR Page 8
