Read Online Jackboot Britain: The Alternate History - Hitler's Victory & The Nazi UK! by Daniel S. Fletcher - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Daniel S. Fletcher
Tags: Fiction, Science-Fiction, Fantasy, Classics, kindle, British, Germany, Nazi, Novel, alternate history, UK, hitler, Fletcher, alternative, fletcher writer, daniel s. fletcher, fletcher author, daniel fletcher, fletcher novel, 5*, jackboot britain
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you’re mute. And Jewish.”
Mary prodded him again, in tolerant disapproval. Alan winked at her.
“ Shalom , sister.”
“Beso mi culo, mariquita,” she replied, smiling sweetly as the others snickered.
At that, Alan’s jollity gave way. He cleared his throat.
“The next year…”
“So what have you heard?” William urged him, leaning in.
The good mood rapidly evaporated, and a sense of purpose was restored. Alan sighed, emptying his glass with huge gulps, pouring the dark frothy ale down his throat with indecent gusto. Jack slid his own, barely touched pint over to him – anything to hasten the process of news on which they’d all keenly waited.
Alan was a well-connected radical figure; it had been he who’d arranged the Spain travel, he who encouraged the defection from the International Brigade of Communist Party members to the POUM militia, upon meeting Mary in Barcelona; he, or so he claimed, was responsible for their being recruited as Auxiliaries. On the latter point, William knew otherwise but he had no intention of revealing it. Loyal, clever – despite an infuriating lack of tact and diplomacy – and a passionate fighter for the cause; in intrigue and action alike, Alan was worth his weight in gold.
He cleared his throat.
“Not good. German Army all over London –”
“–are they?” William interjected. “Excellent work. I knew you’d know.”
He smirked, flicking his hair out of his eyes, and tipped his glass to Alan before swigging from it. Mary sarcastically applauded, and they silently toasted him, feigning admiration and reverence. The Geordie returned a baleful stare, his bright eyes narrowed crossly.
Jack’s objection died in his throat, and he chuckled. Good spirits were essential in dark times. Morale in all forms was to be cherished.
Alan continued, pokerfaced; “Anyway, with the agreement of William Wallace over here, Wehrmacht is crawling all over London… obviously occupied Whitehall and… everywhere that matters, really.”
“And their operational base?” Jack enquired. “We’ve all heard conflicting reports, most of it pure rumour, and they’re a bloody bureaucratic lot these Jerries. Wehrmacht, SS. SD and Gestapo.”
Alan nodded. “SD were…” but before he finished the sentence, he hesitated, and glanced at Jack, who guessed what he might be about to say. Hurriedly continuing, Alan explained, “… Wehrmacht have jurisdiction, and Hitler named a General von Brauchitsch as commander. Nice name, eh? Just some lapdog, but he’s in command of the ongoing battles in the northern zone.”
This really piqued their interest.
“So what exactly is going on outside this city?” Jack asked.
“It was as we expected. What passed for a home defence army; stragglers, Great War vets and odds and sods from all over were forced north as the front line spread. Government capitulated with the army proper captured en masse in France, but there were still plenty of fighters on the home front. They were forced north with the German advance, and have banded together with the resistance in the northern zone and who came down from Scotland.”
“So what’s going on in Scotland? Where are the front lines, and where are they occupying?” William asked, his voice betraying concern.
Mary glanced at the worried face of her lover. His family still lived in Edinburgh. His mother’s letter from weeks ago had just gotten to him; she was in hospital but assured him it was nothing. She’d wanted to pass on her best wishes to Jack and Mary. She had mentioned neither Germans nor Scotland.
Alan considered. “Well, that’s where the line becomes blurry. The government imploded, and capitulated with no army – only auxiliaries, as we well know – and then radio operators went down…” He looked at Jack again. “I’m sorry, but I have to say it. I think Fifth Columnists are the reason the radio stuff didn’t work.”
“Preposterous,” William immediately interjected,
Mary prodded him again, in tolerant disapproval. Alan winked at her.
“ Shalom , sister.”
“Beso mi culo, mariquita,” she replied, smiling sweetly as the others snickered.
At that, Alan’s jollity gave way. He cleared his throat.
“The next year…”
“So what have you heard?” William urged him, leaning in.
The good mood rapidly evaporated, and a sense of purpose was restored. Alan sighed, emptying his glass with huge gulps, pouring the dark frothy ale down his throat with indecent gusto. Jack slid his own, barely touched pint over to him – anything to hasten the process of news on which they’d all keenly waited.
Alan was a well-connected radical figure; it had been he who’d arranged the Spain travel, he who encouraged the defection from the International Brigade of Communist Party members to the POUM militia, upon meeting Mary in Barcelona; he, or so he claimed, was responsible for their being recruited as Auxiliaries. On the latter point, William knew otherwise but he had no intention of revealing it. Loyal, clever – despite an infuriating lack of tact and diplomacy – and a passionate fighter for the cause; in intrigue and action alike, Alan was worth his weight in gold.
He cleared his throat.
“Not good. German Army all over London –”
“–are they?” William interjected. “Excellent work. I knew you’d know.”
He smirked, flicking his hair out of his eyes, and tipped his glass to Alan before swigging from it. Mary sarcastically applauded, and they silently toasted him, feigning admiration and reverence. The Geordie returned a baleful stare, his bright eyes narrowed crossly.
Jack’s objection died in his throat, and he chuckled. Good spirits were essential in dark times. Morale in all forms was to be cherished.
Alan continued, pokerfaced; “Anyway, with the agreement of William Wallace over here, Wehrmacht is crawling all over London… obviously occupied Whitehall and… everywhere that matters, really.”
“And their operational base?” Jack enquired. “We’ve all heard conflicting reports, most of it pure rumour, and they’re a bloody bureaucratic lot these Jerries. Wehrmacht, SS. SD and Gestapo.”
Alan nodded. “SD were…” but before he finished the sentence, he hesitated, and glanced at Jack, who guessed what he might be about to say. Hurriedly continuing, Alan explained, “… Wehrmacht have jurisdiction, and Hitler named a General von Brauchitsch as commander. Nice name, eh? Just some lapdog, but he’s in command of the ongoing battles in the northern zone.”
This really piqued their interest.
“So what exactly is going on outside this city?” Jack asked.
“It was as we expected. What passed for a home defence army; stragglers, Great War vets and odds and sods from all over were forced north as the front line spread. Government capitulated with the army proper captured en masse in France, but there were still plenty of fighters on the home front. They were forced north with the German advance, and have banded together with the resistance in the northern zone and who came down from Scotland.”
“So what’s going on in Scotland? Where are the front lines, and where are they occupying?” William asked, his voice betraying concern.
Mary glanced at the worried face of her lover. His family still lived in Edinburgh. His mother’s letter from weeks ago had just gotten to him; she was in hospital but assured him it was nothing. She’d wanted to pass on her best wishes to Jack and Mary. She had mentioned neither Germans nor Scotland.
Alan considered. “Well, that’s where the line becomes blurry. The government imploded, and capitulated with no army – only auxiliaries, as we well know – and then radio operators went down…” He looked at Jack again. “I’m sorry, but I have to say it. I think Fifth Columnists are the reason the radio stuff didn’t work.”
“Preposterous,” William immediately interjected,
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